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wizkiddx · 3 years

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supercluster

this is my entry for @hollandsrecs 'toms birthday fanfic fest' event - go check it out!!! I know its a early but im v bored so have it now. also im acc kinda really proud of this one, any feedback would be v appreciated 🤍

the prompt was: 'you and tom are best friends and you tell him that you love him on his birthday'

summary: its toms birthday but he has a few things to get off his chest and into the night sky, y/n joins in with a bit of a revelation too

best friends -> lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit angsty but promise ends all fluffy and a shit tonne of dialogue

wc: 3.5k ishhh

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Everything got a little too wild and stuffy in the living area, Haz and Harry screaming sweet caroline, whilst Greg (Tom’s stunt man) was pouring *another* round of shots. The sweatiness and clamminess of the room meant Y/n took a moment to escape, sliding out the double doors, and closing them softly behind her to ensure no one would notice her little escape. Something about the midnight air, the slightly dewy smell of the neighbouring fields, felt like it was refreshing Y/n from the inside out. When she turned around, back facing the fancy rented house, she was slightly shocked by Tom standing in the garden. It was his birthday party after all. In all honesty, Y/n felt a bit guilty she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in the thick of it with his brothers and castmates.

His silhouette was set against the clear night sky, the stars extra prominent this evening and the moon casting a soft glow off the left side of his face, exaggerating the natural contours of his jawline and cheekbones. Clearly, he was enraptured by the sky, staring up at it with a thoughtful look on his face.

And Y/n recognised that look instantly; she knew what he was doing.

In fact, he had taught her to do precisely the same thing. As kids, the Hollands, Y/n’s family and another two families from the local area all went camping together. It was an annual event, ‘the Kingston collective camping adventure’ as Dom had named it. Y/n couldn’t remember a year when they hadn’t gone actually - it was that much of a tradition.

One year, though, when she and Tom were about 9, her mothers’ due date coincided with the camping dates. So, sensibly, the decision had been made that Y/n and her brother would just be looked after by the Hollands - whilst her mum and dad were safely tucked up in bed at home, awaiting the arrival of her littlest brother.

Y/n, her brother Alex, and Tom were all sharing a tent, and it must’ve been at least midnight that Tom was awoken by shuffling and zipping up of the tent. He’d realised she was gone through sleepy eyes and, without a second thought, went to go find her. Sure enough, she wasn’t far away, not even 50 metres from the tent, crouched on the grass. Immediately Tom’s presence had been noticed, making Y/m quickly snivel and wipe her face.

“Are you upset?”

“Go away Tom.” The comment didn’t do a lot, though; instead, 9-year-old Tom had planted himself down next to her - his pyjamas getting wet on the moist grass floor.

“Are you missing Auntie Sarah and Uncle Mike?” In the same way that Y/n called Nikki and Dom auntie and uncle, the Holland boys mirrored the nicknames for her parents. Y/n replied with a long sigh before hiccuping, failing to control the stream of tears. Yes, he was right - this was her first night away from her parents- but she wasn't about to spill her heart out to the 'stupid boy' who had stolen one of her marshmallows that evening. Tom’s little brown eyes swelled, looking slightly terrified and out of his depth, whilst with all his 9 years of wisdom, trying to come up with an answer.

“Do you want to play football to forget about it?”

Unsurprisingly Y/n shook her head violently. Tom cursed inwardly at himself for saying the wrong thing, apparently football wasn't the answer to everything. The two children went back to silence until Tom had the metaphorical light bulb moment. “My mum told me something for when I got to sleepovers? Look!” He grabbed Y/n’s little hand, extending it upwards towards the night sky.

“No matter where you are, you’re all looking at the same stars too, right?”

Tom jumped a little before looking over his shoulder and recognising Y/n with the softest smile that grew across his face. Y/n slowly walked to his side, arms crossed over her chest to try and keep the cold at bay, joining Tom in staring up at the starry expanse.

“How do you always know?” Tom spoke in a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. It was true, she did always know - but his question was somewhat irrelevant. They'd spent most their childhood together, they were as easy to read as a children’s book to each other.

“Missing home?”

“Sort of, I got my own slice of home with the boys and-and you but… pads, mum dad yeh, feel like on your birthday your always supposed to see your family.”

Although Harry, Harrison, Sam and Y/n had managed to fly out to surprise Tom on his birthday- prior commitments meant his parents and youngest brother hadn’t been able to make it. They four arrived yesterday, greeted by a very shocked and pretty emotional Tom - who had clearly been missing the sense of home somewhat. He’d been away shooting a film, then straight away launching into press for the next spiderman movie. It had been a long while since he’d been in London - half a year in fact.

This time too, he’d been away without a single family member or friend - that was another truth he’d learnt about growing up. Your friends and family, they all get lives of their own. Tom used to be a trailblazer, the first to get a job, the one everyone was super proud of. They still were, of course, but didn’t dote on him in quite the same way - everyone had their own shit to deal with. It was yet another reason Tom wasn’t welcoming his birthday as much as he usually would.

“Your parents did always spoil you rotten.”

“They spoilt you worst and you’re not technically their kid.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even if it might slightly true - muttering a ‘touche’ at the brown-haired boy next to her. Their families had always been close; naturally the adults seemed to gravitate more to the kids that weren’t their own. The ones who you could ‘give back’ at the end of the day. It just so happened Nikki and Dom had always loved having Y/n around, maybe a bit more than anyone else.

“Have you had a good birthday then? You should be in there with Greg pouring that shitty vodka down your throat.” Y/n questioned, whilst shrugging back toward the house, the dull thump of Jacob's playlist just audible. Still, both stared upwards, standing close enough that their upper arms were both pressed up against each other. She expected a jovial answer, but even from his tone, it was evident there was something up. He sounded…weary?

“I’m bloody glad you all came...don’t get me wrong, I love Z and Jacob and everyone but….”

“Shitty week?”

“Shitty birthday week of promo and press.” Tom scathed, and Y/n nodded. Even if she couldn’t understand what was so bad about press, she knew that Tom hated it passionately. And in the same way, he loved all his castmates dearly, but they hadn’t known him his whole life. They didn’t understand why he did every little thing; their values lay just that bit apart. It just wasn’t the same as being surrounded with his family - you and Harrison adopted Hollands too.

“I just feel like I’ve spent all week trapped in a room answering the most stupid, irrelevant and inconsequential questions... Everything’s just so surface level and fake and, and I-“He cut himself off, for the first time meeting Y/n’s eyes. In all honesty, Tom got a bit caught up in the stars reflecting off her piercing y/e/c eyes before changing tack.

“Will you do me a favour?”

This wasn’t spoken with the normal Tom tone. It wasn’t joking or jovial; it wasn’t an ‘off the tongue’ thing. This was spoken with such seriousness and gravitas coming from his deep voice that Y/n replied equally truthfully.

“Always T, you know that.”

“Will you please ask me a personal and serious and deep question?”

She got where he was coming from too.

Clearly, even though the evening was supposed to be a light piss up in celebration, it had instead unearthed some darker thoughts that Tom had been harbouring away. Perhaps he never even realised he needed such seriousness, or perhaps with his castmates he hadn’t felt comfortable exposing himself like that. Either way, Y/n was going to respect him now. It was technically his birthday, too; the clocks had already struck 12 - it was now his day.

It wasn’t tricky to think of one; she’d often wondered the same question of him - never with the opportunity to ask. The question popped into her head again, almost as soon as Tom asked for one.

“Okay…. What’s your deepest regret that makes you feel guilty for feeling because in the grand scheme of things, it minor? Like such a 'first world problem'." What do you regret that’s just completely selfish?”

Tom immediately stiffened, his jaw tensing as he worked through his thoughts in his head. Scared she’d pushed it too far, Y/n averted her gaze back to the sky, chewing her bottom lip slightly. It took a moment, but then she saw Tom turn towards her, in the peripheries of her vision. With a tightly closed-lip smirk on his face he joked “If your gonna ask questions like that, we better sit down.”

And so they did, both sitting crossed legged on the ground, knees brushing against each other. Just on the grass lawn, almost mirroring themselves all those years ago as kids in that camping site. Y/n wondered if she should offer to play football instead - to cheer him up.

“Missing out. I miss out months at a time. Miss out on seeing mum and dad, miss out on the pub quizzes with the boys, miss out seeing you… I mean, I didn’t even know you had a new job until you mentioned it this morning. I miss out on time with nana Tess and all my grandparents, and that’s scary cos… well, every time I go, it could be the last time… I don’t know, I just… I get so much, get to travel, to see the world, but… sometimes it feels like I’m sacrificing the foundations. And without the foundations….”

“The walls come crumbling down.” Y/n finished off his sentence quietly, barely whispering the words - but from Tom’s nod of agreement, it seemed like she’d hit the nail on the head. There was silence for a beat till Y/n whispered to him.

“Well, happy birthday to you” Trying to bring the mood up a little, she bumped his shoulder, and Tom chuckled breathily.

“Seriously! This is helping me out. I-I just need to get everything out and start my 25th year fresh.”

“Hey, if that’s all you want, I’m getting a refund on my present- we can just get deep and interview each other.”

“I’m game, except I’m keeping the present too.”

“Just because it’s your birthday and I’m a bit tipsy, I’ll allow it.”

“Okay, well then, Y/n L/n”, He spoke formally, leaning in closer and making her giggle a little. “What’s your biggest regret?”

“Honestly?” Tom just repeated her in reply, but this time it was a statement.

"Honestly."

He really was going deep too. No holding back now. Y/n sucked on her cheek before replying. “Not travelling with you when we were 19… I was just so determined to get to uni and start grown-up life, but… well, grown-up life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I should’ve tried to stay a kid longer, messing about on your film sets and pretending it was work. I think I would’ve learnt more from seeing the world with you.”

“Well, I am very knowledgable.”

“Shut up, you drop out- who didn't know what a drag race was.” She wasn’t wrong, and whilst yes, he had dropped out to be a film star - he was still a dropout. (with exceptionally poor knowledge of RuPaul) He scowled, then leaning back on his hands, so he was half reclined on the grass as Y/n thought of her next question.

“Whats your biggest worry?”

“Easy.” He chuffed, making Y/n furrow her brows at him. Clearly, he’d already thought of this. “That I finally settle down with the love of my life, and then the fans or press or paps ruin it.”

It made sense; every time Tom had gone public with a relationship, it had ended in a minor car crash. Typically it was also the girl who got hurt; she was the ‘victim’ in everything. Though Y/n had seen first hand the effect it had had on Tom - he never made it out damage-free.

“You make it sound like you’ve already got this dream girl queued and waiting.”

“I wish”, Tom sighed, as Y/n took the opportunity to completely lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark abyss. She’d always loved the stars and had become a bit of a geek on them as they’d grown up too- and maybe it was all down to Tom on that camping trip. Following suit, Tom copied her, his head resting on his hands that were crossed behind his head, taking in the moment of pure peace as they lay on the grass.

“You see that bright one there?” Pointing up, Y/n shimmied closer to him so that he definitely saw the same thing as her. “It’s actually not one. Look closer.” Humming, Tom shifted a bit closer, so her shoulder slotted under the side of his body just the teeniest bit. It meant he could follow her direction and squinted up at the little patch of the sky.

“ 5…maybe 6? What is it?”

“The pliedes supercluster…. basically a big group of stars that all were born from the same place- the same stellar nursery.”

“But they’re moving now?” She hummed in confirmation to his question, briefly glancing at the way his eyes were fixed on the sky. For the first time he seemed genuinely interested in hearing her stories of the stars. It usually was an eye roll and ‘you’re so lame’.

“They’re called the sibling stars… like everything in life, as they get older they drift apart but…. but to us down here? They’ll always be associated together because they have a gravitational effect on each other. They’ll always have their thing tying them together. Like an invisible string.”

“Sounds like you’re being metaphorical.” Tom chuckled, expecting a taunt back but receiving nothing except a gentle agreement.

“Theres also actually 7. The last one people can only sometimes see… it’s a pulsing star, so comes and goes.”

“They do that?”

“Yeh, and no matter what… if you can see it or not, it’s always there. Always having an impact on its family.”

Biting his lower lip slightly, Tom repositioned his head slightly, Y/n’s words taking time to be fully absorbed. He was sure she was making parallels to him. Barely there, appearing and disappearing, but always a part of the family.

“You are being metaphorical.”

“Maybe.” She whispered shortly. “Metaphors depend on who’s listening and if they draw parallels to their own life. It’s subjective. You can’t tell anyone what is and isn’t metaphor…. it takes the beauty out of it.”

“Right, sure... But if you were…. me, harry, Sam, pads, you, Haz, Tuwaine? That the 7?” Y/n held back the little smile at his words. Tom wasn’t as ‘head in the clouds’ as she was- he was literal. Also, he was bloody stubborn when he wanted to be.

“I wasn’t being metaphorical T.” He knew she was lying. She knew that he knew. But it still helped him, made him feel a bit better. That he was always, in some way, having some effect... lives always intertwined with the people he cared about the most.

“Tell me another story about another star.”

Time for the rest of the night kind of got lost. The two young adults just lay on the grass, entirely in their own little world, using each others body heat to keep themselves warm through the early hours. Neither felt remotely tired, Y/n whispering her little stories of both the myths and science of the old stars, pointing out each planet. Meanwhile, Tom listened in awe, for once not taking the mick out of her incredibly geeky hobby. Instead, he found himself getting fascinated by all the little intricacies Y/n was so passionate about.

It was only when the stars began to fade, as orangey-red hue started to seep up from the horizon the either noticed the time. It was now the morning of the next day, the house long since had turned silent behind them - presumably, everyone finally passing out shit faced.

As the stars’ light was overtaken by the rising sun, Y/n ran out of stories; the two settled into silence - neither quite ready to go to bed yet.

“It’s still my turn,” Tom spoke into the sky before pivoting his head to look Y/n in the eye, seeing the confusion in her furrowed brows. “It’s my question to ask. My turn.”

“Aren’t you sick of my voice yet?” There was absolutely no reason that they were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone was trying to listen or that they’d disturb anyone else my talking normally. But it was nicer that way. It felt calming... intimate even.

“One more. And then you get one more… and then we really should probably go to bed.” He didn’t want the night to end; he was immensely enjoying this weird grey time between being 25 and 26. But it was cold, Tom could tell Y/n had started to feel it a little more. To be fair, she was only in a floral day dress, not much in the way of warmth. With a hum of agreement, Y/n smiled lightly at him, urging his question.

“Whats the biggest secret you’ve kept from me?”

With a bit of a scoff, Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, trying to draw some strength she wasn’t sure she had. It wasn’t like she needed to wrack her brains to come up with it - she knew instantly. Almost painfully too.

“Uhm, honestly?” Now even more intrigued, Tom nodded, using his foot for nudge hers - encouraging her to speak. “Probably how much you mean to me.”

“Oh” He couldn’t help it; the sound just slipped out his mouth without checking with his brain first. That answer had just been so unexpected. He had honestly been thinking that it would be something about how ‘fame had changed him’. After hearing that, Y/n turned her head up the sky again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire with embarrassed heat. Tom knew he had fucked up.

“No, I… I didn’t mean- just just ask me too.” With a sigh, Y/n waved off his stumbled answer as he tried to cover himself.

“This is stup-“

“Ask me!” For the first time in 5 hours, Tom spoke at an normal volume - but it felt painfully loud, like a shout.

“What’s the biggest secret you kept from me?” Her tone was defeated, but nevertheless, he answered.

“How upset I was when you didn’t come when we were 19. I got why, but it was still annoying. Felt like you were picking uni friends over me-“ At this point on any other evening, Y/n would have interjected and argued. None of this situation was normal, though, so she chose to hear him out. “- I know it’s stupid, but…. I guess that’s how much you meant an-and still mean to me too.”

There was silence for a couple minutes, waiting whilst the sun started to peep over the horizon, the lone witness to an otherwise very private conversation. That was until Y/n barely spoke, more like mouthed 2 simple words.

“I lied.” The intensity of the way Tom stared at her made Y/n wish that the sun hadn’t been so bright, that they were back in the darkness that hid her face more. “Biggest lie I’ve told you … that I’m not in love with you.”

Y/n didn’t see because she couldn’t face looking at him, but Tom’s face erupted into the most prominent, toothiest smile. Whilst Tom was enjoying the moment of being absolutely ecstatic, Y/n was waiting for a response- feeling her world come crashing in. That she'd just destroyed one of the most important friendships in her life too.

But then he said the opposite of what she thought he would.

“I lied too.”

That had her attention, whipping her head toward him as Tom rolled onto his side on the lawn, balancing with his head resting on one hand. “I lied that I’ve not been completely under your spell since we were kids at that campsite, and you were homesick.”

Y/n’s heart was literally in her mouth, brain overwhelmed but one overriding thought oh so bloody clear.

She’d lost control of everything, arching up to mirror Tom. Using one hand, she reached out to cup Tom’s jaw, to which he instinctively leant toward - until their lips were mere centimetres apart, hot breath fanning over each other.

Y/n no control as she whispered those 3 words against his lips. No control at how immediately after he pressed his to hers; no control as Tom guided her to roll on top of him, knees either side of his torso as his strong arms wrapped around her back.

Once again, time was lost between the two, only pulling apart when their lungs burned for oxygen.

“For the record, I love you too.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom used one hand to gently stroke his thumb across her cheek, switching his focus from her left to right eye - in wonder at how the early morning sun reflected from her y/e/c irises. He’d always thought she was beyond beautiful, but when she was this close to him, with the sun rising behind her in such a way - she looked damn ethereal.

“Happy birthday T.” Nodding in agreement, Tom chuckled before finding her lips once again, whispering against them.

“Yeh, happy damn birthday to me.”

~~~~let me know what you think ;) ~~~~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter

#tom Holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #writing challenge #tbff21 #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #harry Holland

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jiminrings · 3 years

Note

I REQUEST A SOFT BADBOY DRABBLE WITH SHY READER AND HES TEASING HER BUT SOMEONE ELSE JOIMS IN AND THEYRE DOING IT TO BE MEAN BUT HES LIKE STFU BEFORE I PUMCH UR FACE ONLY IM ALLOWED TO BULLY SHY READER GRR 😡😡😡😡 and soft readers like 0.o but *squeals incoherently* 😭😭😭😭

last name, jeon.

drabble week: day two

drabble week masterlist

pairing: badboy!jungkook x shy!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "can't you tell that i really don't want you to be here?"

notes: a tiny change on the plot!! also: frat boy!jimin from day four makes an appearance :D

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

“do you wanna form-“

... yes

you DO have an alliance with jungkook

it's a very fair trade honestly

he pretends to be your boyfriend!! there's no specific boundaries to it, but he springs into action as soon as you're put into an inconvenience

in exchange, you whore him out to your friends!!! :D

no but literally that's how he called it

the whole reason this came to be in the first place is because you hATE confrontation with a burning passion

especially when it comes to those "i have a crush on you" moments that people spring on you all of a sudden

you don't like them back!!! that's the truth!!! but the problem is that you aLWAYS feel guilty letting people down

you obviously don't have the obligation to like someone back just because you sit next to them in class :// IT'S JUST IN YOUR NATURE TO FEEL THAT WAY

you wouldn't get into a relationship with said confessor to ease your guilt, clearly

do you plan on denying their advances? yes

but hOW????

you always take the passive-aggressive approach

you get jungkook to carry your bag and hold your hand, walk in front of said person and pretend not to see them, jungkook makes sURE to put some snide eye contact in there aaaaand the whole ordeal is finished :D

you've managed to let someone down slowly without having to speak to them in-person!!!

jungkook comes more handy than that too

you take him when you want to eat out because you're too anxious to eat alone

you take him when you want to go somewhere in which lining up is essential and you're also too anxious to stand by yourself

you take him when you want to go shopping when there's a sale but you're almost always intimidated by the barrage of people and salespeople so he asks and answers the questions for you

jungkook, in hindsight, is the perfect fake boyfriend for you <3

ALSO jungkook wants something from you

"whore me out to the girls from the families your family's friends with, and it's a deal :D"

that alliance and exchange is going pretty well so far

you mAY be on the more-reserved side but that doesn't mean you're self-aware!!!

you know that your parents are loaded and your shy nature could be somehow chalked to that since you didn't really have anyone that wasn't as non-superficial as you'd like, since they were the overprotective helicopter two-rotor seven-blade parents :(((

jungkook, however, is the only constant you have in your formula

you've known him since childhood and have been friends ever since

his mom's your mom's personal assistant, and one day when mrs. jeon couldn't find a babysitter for jungkook, your mom didn't hesitate to let four-year old jungkook come with her to work

jungkook's your fIRST actual friend that hates gold spoons with you because of how tacky they look :-) he's your emotional support person basically

your emotional support person who was sO close to running late from picking you up during his free day >:( you were about to break into a sprint if he arrived a second later, because you managed to spot a jock coming to you from the corner of your eye awhile ago

You Do Not Like Him <3

"and i even changed into a short-sleeved shirt to ward off your suitors. how romantic of me, don't you think?"

now that he mentions it, it's only now when you can drink him in in full-display

... wow

his right arm's the only one with his tattoos while his left's completely blank, but something about the balance just makes you !!!!!!!! even more

his arm's not completely covered but it was coming to be, something about the blank spaces of skin that are yet to be inked being a nice touch

"very romantic, kook."

now tHAT'S the answer he wanted to hear

he forcibly on your helmet for you to showcase, your grunts of annoyance being drowned out by whistling

(he's even looking left and right and making eye contact with anyone who has their eyes landing on you!!!!)

your cheeks smushed is a look he'll never be tired being in awe of, but he'll never tell you that, of course

"do you ever wonder if your parents would kill me if i misplace even a single hair on you?" jungkook thinks out loud and you don't even flinch with how sudden his thoughts could be, sitting on his seat first so it'd already be balanced when you do, "you sure you’re okay riding with me?? on a motorcycle????"

he usually uses yOUR family's vehicles (they let him and insisted he just takes one at this point) but when you called him, he was en route to kim kradle (it's a one-stop vehicle shop apparently) to get new rims for his motorcycle, bUT NOT ANYMORE HE GUESSES????

you come first compared to the booking he's waited on for three weeks

"i have insurance, i think."

no that's the wrong answer

why did you even bother.,,.,

jungkook flicks your nose because your forehead's protected by the helmet, his face contorted in half faux frustration

"you were supposed to be mad at me for asking that — not logical!! don't even joke about that."

"... my life insurance? like, in the instance that i-"

oW THAT HURT

he flicked even harder this time!!!

you roll your eyes at him and it doesn't go unnoticed, a hand outstretching instead of his fingers flexing

“wallet, please.”

????

jungkook's surprised that you even look confused, this time rolling his eyes at you

“you rolled your eyes at me. you need to bribe me so i won’t rat you out.”

right

he has a never-ending knack for the you're rich jokes

you also know that he likes the cold and would turn the fan on even if it's too hot for a blanket, just because he wants to feel cocooned

you also know that he picks from the fourth row of drinks from the front because it's always been a habit

("the germs cling on to the first row!!!")

you also know that maybe, just maybe, you can't stand it tonight when he's putting himself out there instead of being your faux boyfriend

you keep on zoning out and hoseok, perhaps the only tolerable fellow rich kid you can tolerate within your circle, finally connects the dots in his head and snickers

he's been talking about finding the vintage sneakers he's always wanted on depop and how he almost got scammed for like tWENTY minutes already

in reality, all your nods and scowls aren't towards his story

it's to jungkook and... who's that? jihye whose dad is so colossally shitty, that this one rapper wrote a diss song for him? oh yeah, that jihye

"you like him. like actually 'lose your virginity to him' love him."

WHAT???

there's no way

"how did you-"

"you blush like one."

alright that answer was too quick

hoseok should've ATLEAST tried to wait for a few seconds before answering

"a-and the love part?"

"babe, jungkook may not be the richest one here and that should say a lot," you peer up at him nervously and he actually chuckles, peering to everyone at this function, "dude's humble — he could also just be dense to not see you love him."

okay very true

hobi's making a dig rn at how jungkook coinicidentaally happens to be blonde and maybe this is your cue to leave

hobi does not realize that his hair is aLSO dyed blonde while talking shit about jungkook and his hari

okay this is it

once again, you are NOT listening to hoseok and he's figured out what you're doing by now

you're psyching yourself up with a couple of shots and your heels are digging on the carpeted ballroom

MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY TO BE MORE OUTGOING!!

"pretend to wobble. it doesn't help that nothing can sink you."

oh okay makes sense

if you're gonna try and charm jungkook while trying to play it off as just being tipsy playfulness, atleast make it believable

hoseok snickers because this is just A+ content with the things that you choose to do in your way

shy girl with high alcohol tolerance mannn coming of age film writers would LOVE you ://

you're about to cross the distance between you and jungkook, but something knocks you on your shoulder with a gentle force that seemed intentional

is that-

hold on a second

"what a coincidence :O"

jimin?

jimin???

as in, wholesome yet slightly fuckboy-ish frat guy jimin???

he looks dashing and composed, meeting your eyes perfectly and he doesn't let your confusion startle him

"i know that look. what am i doing here?"

he says it eloquently as if he's practiced it

AND HE DID!!!

you must've looked so shocked that you immediately apologized, shaking your head no

"i-i didn’t mean-..."

you're confused, sure, but that doesn't mean you're immediately judging

it's just that you never saw jimin here or any function of the like, but you wouldn't put it past him if he does go to these things!!! he looks like a million dollars anyways

"relax, doll. you’re so far the only other person i know that i've seen in these type of things."

he looks calm and collected, but maybe that's just because he spent the last five minutes waiting for you to stand so he could bump into you

this place is just sO suffocating and a familiar face is gonna be his relief from something so fancy that it became mundane

"have we been in the same event before this?"

"not that i recall, no. i get invited but this is only the first time after awhile that i went."

jimin drinks from his champagne flute, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, "wanna know why i'm here?"

you're curious!!! what can you say!!!!

you never really interacted with jimin at all before this, but a familiar face like his is comforting

because hoseok's already engaged in another conversation and jungkook's,,,, being jungkook and is fawning all over jihye

jimin chuckles at your insistent nodding, leaning closer to whisper to your ear

"my stepdad’s loaded as fuck."

oh so that's why

he tugs you down to sit at the nearest possible empty chairs, all its occupants gone anyways because they're in the dancefloor busting tRULY horrendous moves

maybe it's because jimin feels lonely too like you are, and it's him feeling comfortable because he's pulled you like ten seconds ago and not once asked him anything out of bounds

maybe that's why he fell into conversation with you easily because you're always intently listening

"might love me as a real son too. maybe that’s a bonus? you don’t really expect that shit in the things you see."

this situation is actually pretty cute

you snort because maybe you’re nOT that shy when you drink,, that’s the only thing that changes in you probably

this whole conversation that sprung from boredom was unknowingly the subject of many stares, including jungkook who you were initially supposed to go to

“you’re worthy of love, jimin.”

jimin sPITS his drink because where the fuck did THAT come from???

why did you say that and why does he feel that he needed to hear that

“i-i think — i think you need more,” he raises his own glass to your lips hurriedly, caught in surprise but you still gulp nonetheless

“you’re-“ you keep sputtering as he keeps making you drink, but he rubs circles on your back at the same time and it's when you realize that jimin the frat guy may not be that bad, “what??? don’t think you’re not the only one with daddy issues! shouldn’t we have like, a radar for each other?”

jimin snorts at your counter and his eyes crinkle to the point where he can't see anything, not being able to see how you're still trying to recover with all that fizz down your throat

wow ur really enjoyable to talk to

“you’re insane and i think-“

listen

you're not really big on feeling beyond a sense and all that stuff, but you feel as if the aura around you just got dark all of a sudden

"who are you calling insane?"

jungkook appears at your side in an instant, hands wrapped around your shoulders while you remain seated

you've honestly forgotten that you were supposed to go to jungkook, but you're reminded of that vERY clearly now

"go away, jimin," he mutters through his teeth, looking at him dead in the eye

hold on

wait

THAT'S JIMIN???

okay now he's confused

sometimes jungkook's mouth just moves on its own without loading the thought process

"why are YOU here?"

jimin furrows his brows, shocked that he'd even see jungkook here out of all people

the guy barely even attends classes!!! and that's coming from him!!

"why’s he here?"

he crouches to your ear, eyes still furrowed at the younger guy

"long story."

nO???

jungkook scowls bitterly because jesus fuck

YOU’RE ON WHISPERING TERMS NOW????

he left for one second, and the moment he comes back, that's when this fucking frat guy approaches you?? was he waiting on him to leave??

you and jungkook only act as a couple when the need arises, and even if you don't feel it, hE feels that this is the need!!! this is the need and it is arising!!!

"get back to uh, alpha bravo charlie or something, park. beat it."

why’s he reciting the nato phonetic alphabet???

jungkook sounds half-angry and half-sad at the same time, and you don't know which side should you focus on

“move,” he repeats this time again but more sternly, making jimin much more confused since jungkook's trying to pull him away from his seat

jimin doesn't budge and it makes the frown even more evident in jungkook's face

what is he FEELING

“can’t you tell that i really don’t want you to be here?”

“i’m not here for you, though. i’m here for y/n.”

he answers honestly, shis gut telling him that there's definitely something going on between the two of you

“y/n doesn’t want you here," kook argues back surely, only noticing your bitten lips now that makes him realize that you're not exactly sober; just a happy kind of rush

he sees you raise your hand timidly, an equally cheeky smile on your face that's only directed to jungkook like it's meant for him

"i-i actually don’t mind."

you don't,,,

you don't mind?

HOW'S THAT POSSIBLE

WHAT ARE YOU DOING

why aren't you signaling him to commence the faux boyfriend act!!

"y/n has a boyfriend."

“... i’m not hitting on her.”

alright this is more than the entertainment that jimin wished for lol

“yeah, well she has a boyfriend still so beat it.”

you do??

the last time you checked, jihye's gonna have jungkook as her boyfriend within the night!!

“i don-“

ALRIGHT THEN

jimin decides to indulge jungkook, knocking his knee with yours as he winks slyly, urging you silently to watch on, turning to look at you and ask

“what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

you don't answer.

that gives him all the more reason to do so.

“last name, jeon.”

jungkook looks the most determined you've ever seen him, eyes characteristically angry with his arms across his chest that his suit tightens, “first name, me.”

....

......

the three of you know that’s not the truth

jimin takes it in, sighing when he sense that something else is about to be unfold and he does noT want to be a part of it

not before whispering to your ear again for the last time, of course

“pretty weird name if you ask me,” you laugh automatically, momentarily forgetting that jungkook's standing by you on just your opposite side and could hear you

he leaves and that only leaves you with jungkook, looking up at him as he's too frantic to even sit

“what are you doing?”

“being a social butterfly," you quip just as fast, drinking your water afterwards

jungkook only clenches his jaw by then, being taken-aback when you speak again

“who are you doing?”

://

“i’m busy being mad at- wait a minute, WHO???”

who instead of what??

the short-lived enthusiasm you had with jimin left with him, crashing just as hard when you're reminded of jungkook's presence

“jihye’s a pretty nice girl. you should go home early tonight.”

his brows furrow, trying to get you to look at him but you avoid his gaze insistently, “what? what are you talking about?”

“she’s not my girlfriend though.”

you're not at all satisfied with the answer because it sounds so wrong, knowing that jungkook's a handsome guy and everyone wants to be with him!!!

and he probably wants to be with everyone else besides you.

“then who-...”

“don’t know yourself anymore? jimin must’ve really swept you off your feet, huh?”

jungkook huffs as he qualifies for a rebutt, your internal wallowing being cut short

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

...

....

“well would you look at that,” jungkook snickers, sighing through his nose as your eyes finally meet his, directly stubborn yet soft around the edges

“she’s not my girlfriend, and he’s not your boyfriend. what a coincidence.”

god did he feel so threatened the moment his eyes couldn't find you besides hobi and instead next to jimin, eyes crinkled in laughter without hesitation

have you been chasing after one another this whole time?

jungkook silently grabs you by the hand and you wave no opposition to it

maybe it's your liquor-influenced vision or maybe it's you hyperfixating on such a warm moment, but your eyes immediately lock to see the matching red thread bracelet he wore like yours

you're dressed in next year's spring collection line, and the structured silk black gown that has a train behind it doesn't exactly scream to have a simple red thread bracelet as its accessory according to your mom's designer and everyone else —

but you don't have the heart to take it off

there's no need to take it off

jungkook drives your car and no one says a single thing about anything

his hand’s on your thigh and you don’t question it, eyes locking into the way his hand looks perfect and the way the bracelet looks meant to be wrapped in his wrist in the first place

you're sure this time that it's not the newfound courage you have, but rather the need to do it

you kiss jungkook's cheek on a red light.

it's on a red light that jungkook realizes he could fit the visage of his world within one hand, finally kissing you like he's always wanted to

“yeah. what a coincidence.”

#drabble week #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook headcanons #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook oneshots

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t00turnttrauma · 2 years

Text

museum-jtk

I remember working at an event like this and a man- like at least 45- was hitting on me. I was barely 16 and cried in the bathroom afterward

word count: 2102

The yearly event was not usually how you wanted to spend the weekend. While you would have rather spent the weekend sitting at home and binge-watching Celebrity Roasts, it was two days of making appearances at the annual Garfield University Golf Outing. Of course, rich donors and alumni came from across the country, coming back to their alma mater. The weekend doubled as a weekend long reunion full of booze, old people, and sitting in the background.

You spent the day out on the course, mainly just following the women around and listening for new drama. While you were careful with your words, you leaned a lot about them. This was the first year the women talked in front of you uncensored. Forget periods, this was the true coming of age for a woman in these parts. It was easy following along, hearing drama from last years event from your mother. Learning about Mr. Birmingham’s affair was something that you were extremely shocked to hear about. Her husband, Dr. Birmingham, was a handsome man. The silver fox was worth the risk. Sadly though, he was older than your father and faithful to his unfaithful wife. Another highlight of your day was hearing about the way that Nancy, Norman Stonewell’s wife, went to Europe a B cup and came back with double D’s and a new nose but was still a chairwoman on the panel against plastic surgery for young adults.

By the end of the actual golfing portion of the day, your skin was slightly burnt, a light sting if you pressed too hard. The annual golf outing was always nice to observe. Sitting back and people watching was always a fun past time. There were so many things happening at once that sitting back to watch was entertaining for you. For example, Mr. Birmingham would have never noticed his wife at the open bar trying to find her missing earring and crawling under the table. No one would have seen Mrs. Amelia City hanging on the shoulders of one of the board members, even though her terminally ill husband was at home hooked up to his breathing machine, relying on it to stay healthy.

You turned your attention back to the table of snarky women. Labeled as “The Women’s Table”, a very derogatory name in your opinion, it was getting boring. You were getting bored with the constant chattering about growing and grown children, what Sarah said at the PTA meeting last week, and the chatter about your college plans.

“Go talk to Danny,” your mother whispered, tapping your leg with hers.

You followed her gaze to the double doors. Danny Wagner walked in, laughing with your dad and a few other guys. You sauntered over, greeting your dad with a kiss on the cheek. Brian Kenneth wrapped his arm around you, kissing your cheek. Seeing as the first two men did it, Maxwell Jeffry and Vincent Taylor did the same. Danny only gave you a hug, bidding goodbyes to the older men and escorting you away.

You knew him well but haven’t seen him in a long time. His golf coach was a good friend of your father’s, spending almost their entire lives on the course, Danny joined them. Your mother constantly invited him over after playing, trying to play matchmaker. While he was sweet and the ideal man, there was that spark missing. Instead, a friendship bloomed. Despite knowing him for ages, you never had the chance to meet his band mates, though you’d heard plenty about them.

“What’s up?” He asked, excited to hear about your life.

“Same old, same old,” you said. You went in, talking about your shitty college experience so far. In return, he gave a half playful offer to spend some time with him and the band. “I’m surprised to see you here. I mean, touring the world and all, but you came to Golf-Union weekend.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I got an invitation.”

“What about your friends? Are they sad that you ditched them for the weekend?” You teased, leaning on one of the tall tables.

“They’re actually on the way,” Danny said, looking back at the double doors.

You instinctively stood up straighter, trying to look as good as possible. As much as you hated falling into the cliche, that’s all every single girl did at these events: husband hunt. Now, you had made it clear to everyone, especially yourself, that a man did not dictate your happiness. But that isn’t without the teeny tiny asterisk with the necessity for love, the human need to share that warmth with someone.

As if on cue. Three young men appeared in the doorway, obviously out of place. Only one of them looked dressed for the summer outside, wearing shorts, t-shirt, and a visor. The second was wearing a white top, khaki shorts, and sandals with socks. The last of them wore black jeans, a barely buttoned shirt, and a jacket with an ungodly number of necklaces. They truly were dressed for anything other than a golf outing. Danny waved them over, to which they collectively smiled, quickly making their way through the tables and “This is Sam, Josh, and Jake,” Danny said, pointing to each of them when giving their names.

Sam, who had been between the other two, shook your hand first. You smiled, impressed with his manners. Josh did the same, somehow flashing an even cheekier grin and a very formal hello. Jake took it one step further. He took your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles. He looked up at you, winking as he pulled away. Josh scoffed, mumbling about his behavior. Jake only smirked, claiming himself as a proper gentleman. You laughed, causing Danny to look at you quizzically. At that moment, the blush on your cheeks and heat on your ears became obvious.

“How about we get a table,” you offered, looking around for a big enough table. Finding one that had enough chairs and was empty was hard. Most of them had purses or other belongings on them. After finally finding one that was completely empty, you took a seat. Danny sat on your left, Jake on your right. Josh sat beside Jake, Sam on the other side of him. The conversation was interesting, unable to stay on one subject for very long. The five of you were not enough to have one table to your own. The three extra chairs were taken over by three people you didn’t know but gave a warm greeting to anyway. Image is important at these things. Anything and everything you did would somehow become the talk of the town, especially as a local and having a mother who was one of the organizers.

Josh was a very big hand talker. As he told a story, his hands were sure to go everywhere. The amazing part was that even if he had a drink in his hand, not a single drop would be spilled. He was telling a story about a road rage incident, motioning with his hands on the wheel and pretending to shift gears as the story went on. Despite being the center of attention, you couldn’t help but notice Jake. He was smiling at his brother. He’d probably already heard the story before, knowing what details were coming next, but you couldn’t help but notice how he nodded, actively listening. Or when Josh would say something funny and he would tip his head back slightly, letting a breathy chuckle run past his lips.

Danny took notice. He watched how your eyes would dart to Josh when the rest of the table laughed then went back to staring right past him. Following your eyeline, an idea popped into his head. He tapped your wrist lightly, swiftly motioning to the bar. You followed him, silently excusing yourself from the table.

“He’s single, you know,” he said, gauging your reaction.

Completely against giving him the satisfaction of the excitement running through your veins and squealing like a twelve-year-old girl, you scoffed instead. “After hearing Josh and that story, I’m not surprised he’s single,” you joked.

Danny gave you the classic Danny Look. The one that says he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and he knows that you know mixed with a touch of judgement. “Jake, I mean. And he’s looking.” Seeing as you were barely reacting, he knew exactly what to say next. “And I think he’s your type.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, turning to the bartender, and asking for your drink. He poked at you, teasing that you had a crush on Jake. You scoffed, the blush on your face and the heat on your neck fighting against you. “Do not.”

Jake walked up, asking what you two were laughing about a moment ago. You looked up at the taller of the two, knowing that he would do it. In return, a smirk landed on Danny’s lips. “We were talking about how Y/N really likes you, Jake.” Your face burned with embarrassment. What made it worse was that the escape plan forming in your mind was foiled by Danny’s arm around your shoulders.

“Really?” Jake asked, making eye contact.

You looked away quickly, trying to find another familiar face. Any other time, people would be practically begging to talk to you. Now, when you really needed an interruption, there was not a single person in sight. Danny squeezed you closer. “I’ll leave you two to talk it over.”

The silence between you and Jake was awkward. Without Danny there to push the conversation, you were unsure of what to say. Jake must have been in the same boat, his hands going into his pockets.

“I don’t know why Danny would say that,” you said, swirling your drink.

He shrugged. “And here I thought I was making you nervous.” The butterflies returned. He must have noticed the shift in your posture. “I guess I am, Y/N.”

You blushed, quite literally speechless. Mr. Birmingham came out of nowhere, informing you of the main event that was beginning. Jake looked around. Everyone had begun settling into their chairs, no longer mingling. Unable to sit through one more year of hour long talks with numerous golf jokes that you didn’t understand sprinkled in, you made another escape plan, but this time with Jake in mind.

“Why don’t we ditch this place?” You offered, raising your eyebrows, hoping to convince him. “There’s a museum upstairs and I know where they hide the keys.”

Jake nodded. “You go first, and I’ll meet you in the lobby in five.”

You did as told, swiping the key from above the trophy cases. Just as you were jumping down from the bench, Jake walked through the doors, stepping over the curtains that were hung on the wall to cover the other doors and concessions window. Perks of having the event in a college gymnasium is the privacy that comes with the museum.

You walked with Jake, telling him tidbits about the items on the shelves. He listened intently, asking questions, and nodding as you explained something.

“And this is my favorite piece,” you said, motioning to a gold necklace on the wall. The plaque had fallen off long ago. “The story behind this is so romantic.”

You spun a a story about lovers who were never able to marry. Intricate details provided by the numerous cheesy novels you’d read over the years. At the end of your story, Jake looked amazed. “Really?”

You shook your head. “I’m kidding. I hung that on the wall as a joke and now every tour guide tells a different story.”

He laughed along, looking at the necklace. “You seem to know so much about this place.”

“I was practically raised here. My first gift was a onesie of Paulo the Penguin, which is our mascot.”

It was true. Garfield U was a constant figure in your life. Your mother planned the entire event, pretty much single-handedly. Your father was a successful businessman. He was also on the board, making decisions for the school itself. The school pretty much fueled the local economy, everyone practically dying to be part of the school. A silence settled in the room, attention now on more displays.

“Do you want to go out sometime?” You asked, linking your hands together. With the exit sign to your left, you could make a swift exit if needed.

“What are they having for dinner down there?” He asked, a smile on his lips. “I heard there was seafood or-“

“There’s a burger joint up the street.”

“Lead the way, Y/N.”

#gvf #josh gvf #greta van fleet #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka #danny gvf #sam gvf #xreader #danny wagner #gvf imagine

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im-in-vin-ci-ble · 3 years

Note

Heyy could I possibly request f!OC x Mark, in which the OC is Red Rush’s daughter who also inherited his powers. Set before the events of episode one maybe at a Guardian’s work party or smth. Mark and OC are hitting it off in a ‘Idk what’s going on my dad just works here’ solidarity during the party; while her doting and protective father Josef is keeping an eye on them, unsure about how he feels about his favorite sidekick growing up on him. Maybe Olga and Debbie try to be matchmakers too lol

A/N: okay well this is CUTE AF, I love this sm thank u for requesting <3 also josef and olga are married here, no one dies (yet) and everyone is happy!!!

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!OC

Rating: T

Warnings: mild swearing

The annual Guardians of the Globe Founder's Day party was never really Zasha's scene. It mainly consisted of the Guardians and the Global Defense Agency's families, and more often than not, she was the only one in her age group. Her true purpose there was to really just pay her respects to the people — including her father, who people knew as Red Rush — who protected the planet.

This year's Founder's Day event was different, however, as Omni-Man finally accepted the party invitations he'd been ignoring for years. Although there were jokes that he had accidentally RSVP'd to the party, or that his wife had accepted the invite behind his back, everyone seemed happy, and still pleasantly surprised, when he and his family walked in.

Sitting down with a non-alcoholic beverage in her hand, she watched as everyone shook hands with the powerful Nolan Grayson and his loving family. Zasha's mom, Olga, walked over to say hello and immediately dragged the three to where Zasha and Josef were. The two male superheroes first exchanged pleasantries, followed by Olga forcing her daughter to get up so she can properly be introduced to the teenage boy standing across from her.

"Zasha, hi," Debbie said with a wide smile as she gave you a warm hug. "This is my son, Mark. I don't think you two have properly met yet."

He extended his arm, "Oh, hi, uh, I'm Mark," he replied with a sheepish smile.

"Hi, I'm Z," she said as Olga gave her a soft push to move her forward. The young girl's eyes threw daggers at her mom before politely shaking his hand, "Nice to meet you."

"Are you all hungry? They've got a lot of food," Olga told the Graysons, leading them and Josef, who squinted his eyes at Zasha and Mark, over to the buffet table.

Zasha and Mark looked at each other awkwardly and exchanged nervous smiles. He began to rock back and forth on his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets as he attempted to think of what to say.

"So uh, how's... superhero training?" he asked.

"Uh, good," Zasha answered, nodding her head. "We managed to take down Titan yesterday so that was pretty cool."

"Oh yeah? That's great," Mark exclaimed. "How about, um..." he scratched the back of his head, "Is the, i-is the drink... good?"

She looked down at her cup and clicked her tongue, "You know for a party that's sponsored by the government, you'd think they'd have better catering."

He chuckled, "If I knew this was going to be a boring party with adults and toddlers and no good food, I would have at least brought a snack and some comic books."

Zasha sat back down and looked up at him with a smile, "Well you better take a seat, buddy, because the next few hours are going to make you wish you were being hurled at buildings instead."

She gently patted the seat next to her and Mark accepted the offer. "Do you go to these things a lot?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Zasha replied. "You are so damn lucky your dad never wants to come to a Guardians event."

Mark laughed, "You know what, I used to be really jealous of all the families who got together during these events but right now, I'd do anything to just go home." He looked around and sighed, "I don't even know most of these people."

"Me too, and I've seen their faces at least thrice a year ever since I could remember," she agreed. "Actually, I think this is the first solid conversation I've had with someone at these things."

"Really?" he asked in shock.

"Really," she answered, taking a sip of the bland orange juice that now mostly tastes like water. "Most of the guys who are my age that have attended aren't really cute, nor are they interesting, so meh."

Mark's head snapped up at that remark and he felt the warmth rush up to his cheeks. "The other guys aren’t... cute and not... interesting?"

"Hell no," Zasha laughed. "Have you ever tried connecting with a person who has no special abilities but know you're a superhero? It feels like talking to a wall."

He crossed his brows, "What do you mean?"

She sighed and leaned forward, "They usually ask me what being a superhero is like, but when I tell them that I managed to take down a man with rock for skin, it's like I'm a freak."

"You're not a freak, Zasha," he replied. "And any guy who feels that way about a girl who's trying to save others sounds like a shitty person."

"And they're not even cute!" she added.

"And they're not even cute," he repeated after her with a laugh.

Zasha sighed again and sat back up. She looked over at him and briefly examined his face, "Well it's a good thing you are."

Josef turned around and watched as the 17-year-old boy chatted up his daughter, as well as literally take his seat at the table.

He held on to Olga's arm and leaned in, "I don't like what I'm seeing over there."

Olga turned to look then laughed at her overbearing husband. "They're just talking, Josef," she said. "It's not Zasha's fault she can enjoy a pleasant conversation and you can't."

"Mm..." Josef groaned, "I don't like it."

"Don't like what?" Debbie asked from behind.

Olga walked over to her and excitingly yet subtly pointed at Zasha and Mark, who were now facing each other now laughing. "Josef's worried that Zasha won't have time to be his daughter anymore if she ever started dating boys," she explained to Debbie. "You know he scares off every single boy Zasha introduces to us? I'm worried she'll never have a boyfriend!"

"She doesn't need a boyfriend, Olga," Josef chimed in grumpily, crossing his arms as he watched the two like a hawk. "No one will be good enough for Zasha anyway. She can literally outrun all the boys she dates."

"So are you saying that my Mark isn't good enough for Zasha?" Debbie asked with half a smile, momentarily shutting Josef up before he nervously tried to form a sentence. "I'm just teasing, Josef," she followed, winking at him and almost warning him not to underestimate her son.

Olga chuckled, "It's good for them to bond. They're both teenagers and superheroes, if they ever date at least they won't have to worry about keeping secrets."

"Whoa, wait," Josef exclaimed. "They just met, who said anything about dating?"

His wife rolled her eyes at his remark. "We should, what's the term... hook them up," Olga said. "Debbie, ask Mark what's going on and I'll ask Zasha."

Debbie agreed to the plan and walked over to Mark and Zasha while Josef huffed in annoyance but stayed in his position; there was no way in hell he was going to keep his eyes off of them.

Debbie offered Mark some food from her plate but he kindly declined. "Good choice," she said. "For a party paid for by the government, you'd think they'd have better food."

Mark laughed and nodded in agreement, "That's what Z said!"

"Oh really?" Debbie replied with a playful smirk.

Mark and Zasha looked at each other as if they were sharing an inside joke before Olga called her daughter over.

"Sorry, mama is calling me," she told the Graysons as she excused herself.

"So..." Debbie trailed off, raising her eyebrow at her son whose cheeks were rosy red.

"Mom, please don't make it weird," Mark begged.

"You and Zasha seem to be hitting it off."

"I begged you not to make it weird," he groaned, covering his face.

"I was just asking!" Debbie said with a giggle. "Why are you being so offensive?"

"I'm not, mom, I'm just... ugh," he groaned again. "Please don't say anything to Josef and Olga. Don't make it weird."

"I won't, I won't," Debbie reassured him. "Are you gonna ask her out though?"

"Mom!"

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving," she said with a hearty laugh, nodding at Zasha who was walking back to her seat.

"Sorry about that, my mom was being strange," Zasha said. "Everything okay?" she asked Mark, who now looked like he'd been slapped over and over again.

"Yeah, yeah! Great! Everything's great!"

She smiled at him but Mark leaned over and kept his head down. Another moment of awkward silence fell upon the two; Zasha looked around while tapping her toes and Mark's sight was glued to the floor. From the corner of his eye, he could see his mom and Olga delicately signalling at him to make his move. He covered the sides of his face and continuously mouthed "No," but the two were unrelenting. He took a deep breath and finally sat back up, and looked over at Zasha who was still pretending to casually look around.

"Hey, uh, Z?"

She quickly looked over at him with wide eyes, "Yes?"

Mark looked behind her head and watched as Olga and Debbie were giggling and whispering to each other, like a bunch of high school girls who just saw their best friend talking to their crush.

"Uh, I'm hungry."

The smile on Zasha's face was quickly replaced with a look of confusion. "Okay... and?"

"Oh! Um," he cleared his throat, "do you... like burgers?"

Zasha giggled and nodded, "I do like burgers."

Controlling his urge to fist pump, Mark cheekily bit his lower lip and moved a little closer, "You wanna head out and grab a bite?"

"Uh..." she turned around and watched as Olga and Debbie quickly nodded their heads, her mom giving her a sign of approval to leave the party. "Sure, I'm starving."

Josef looked on as the two of them stood up and began to make their way to the exit. Sighing in defeat and sadness, he called them over to the place where he's been stationed at since the Graysons arrived.

"Papa, we're just gonna get something to eat," she informed him nervously, knowing his scare tactics when it came to the guys she introduced him to.

Josef's eyes softened as the sight of his little girl, who he knew and finally accepted was growing up. She was making her way into the world and as much as he wanted to always protect her, he knew that she was just as smart and as capable to start doing it herself.

He took his daughter's hand and held it tight, "Okay, call me if you need a ride home."

"I will," Zasha said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Love you, papa."

"I love you too," he replied with a smile that was immediately erased when he focused his attention to Mark. "Bring her home by 11:30, and no sneaking into her room by the window," he ordered the teenage boy sternly.

Caught by surprise by the sudden formality, Mark straightened his back and nodded. "Uh yes, y-yes sir, Red Rush, sir."

"Papa!" she exclaimed. "No more scare tactics."

"I'm sorry," he chuckled, "that was the last one, I promise."

#damn my daddy issues came out here #HARD #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #invincible fanfic

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livingasaghost · 3 years

Text

okay so i always see a bunch of ridiculous aftg headcanons soooo i decided to put my hat in the ring and try it out

this is all about the foxes and their chaotic as hell groupchats

so let’s imagine for a second that this series doesn’t take place in the early 2000s so smart phones exist

periodically the foxes have exchanged numbers with each other - obviously each of the cliques can contact each other, but then throughout that first year there are little things that cause people to give out their numbers

like at some point nicky lets it slip that he’s having trouble with his stats class and out of the blue allison offers to meet up with him because she’s surprisingly like really great at math? so the two of them start up a little text chain where they just shit talk everyone and start a few random bets

and then dan gets katelyn’s number from one of the other vixens and the two of them initially just start texting about game details...which turns into bonding over make-up and girl talk and eventually dan starts inviting katelyn to hang out with her and the fox girls

at first renee is the only one who has everyone’s number because she’s the only one who everyone likes

but then after their big win, renee just puts everyone in one massive groupchat so no one gets left out and they can all bond and it’s just as chaotic as one would expect

at first everyone’s just trying to figure out who’s who, but not everyone has an iphone so all the iphone users are really pissed off at the green bubbles

aaron’s the only one with an android because of course he is

he refuses to switch to an iphone even when the rest of the team BEGS him to bc he “doesn’t see the point”

for the whole summer after neil’s first year, the team keeps trying to pressure him and andrew into upgrading their phones because the team is so sick of what it’s doing to the groupchat

neil doesn’t really know how it all works because he’s still getting used to having a phone and having friends to text, but then everyone starts sending him emojis that don’t show up properly and his phone won’t load any photos they send and the rest of the foxes are so FRUSTRATED bc neil doesn’t seem to notice

eventually, in a shocking turn of events, andrew gets so fed up with the chaos of everyone texting his flip phone that he’s the one who gives in

he shows up at the dorm one day and just hands neil a little baggie with his new iphone

they’re just starting to get it set up when nicky strolls in and IMMEDIATELY takes over, showing neil all about emojis and changing your phone background and saving all the fox contacts

neil is, unsurprisingly, very overwhelmed and slightly terrified, so andrew reaches over and does it all for him, and nicky just looks put out

it takes neil like six months to change any of his contacts or backgrounds or settings because he just doesn’t care

eventually he does manage to set his lockscreen to a really bad photo he took of andrew when he wasn’t paying attention

andrew notices it one day and chooses not to say anything

(he secretly loves it)

when the groupchats start heating up.......neil realizes it’s kind of fun to have a smart phone because it feels like the foxes are with him all the time

after neil and andrew get iphones, the rest of the team decide to make a separate groupchat for just apple users bc no one really texts aaron regularly anyway

at first it’s just a place where people drop details about practices

dan shares news from wymack and abby and then kevin starts giving orders about what the foxes can do better

and somehow that is the tipping point

because everyone hates when kevin starts talking exy

(except neil)

so everyone jumps on him and it’s the perfect icebreaker

nicky is the obnoxious one who sends a ridiculous amount of emojis and gifs and reaction images (neil never knows where he finds them all) - he also sends the most tiktoks. usually ones that are super inappropriate or just plain stupid.

allison texts a lot because she’s always attached to her phone ready for the tea and sometimes she’ll send a really raunchy meme just to spice things up

neil doesn’t really know what’s going on half the time - and he never really scrolls up to see what he’s missed - so if and when he does respond, it’s usually just to ask clarifying questions or give a thumbs up

matt is the one who always checks in to make sure everyone’s doing okay - he’ll send really encouraging texts that people like andrew shit on

one time matt sends everyone a really sweet text over the holidays about how much they mean to him....and then dan just kicks him out of the gc and goes “okay enough of that bullshit i hate u guys xoxo” and andrew gives it a thumbs up

sometimes when he’s bored andrew will just kick out everyone but renee and neil bc why not

kevin is the one who gets kicked out the most

sometimes it’s because he texts about exy, but eventually it just becomes a running joke that they’ll kick him out randomly

like they’ll be in the middle of a conversation and then allison will just boot him out of the gc just to see what he’ll do

usually when this happens kevin will just send an angry message in one of the other gcs telling neil to add him back

it’s usually neil or renee who adds someone back bc they feel bad that people get left out of the gc

renee has this weird obsession with tiktok and she sends them CONSTANTLY like usually they remind her of certain teammates

she’ll send these at all hours of the night bc she has trouble sleeping and that means more time to scroll through the app from hell

and even though it gets on everyone’s nerves, no one can hate renee so they all just kind of....watch the videos and then everyone’s obsessed with tiktok

dan will send memes and things but only when they’re like so ridiculously funny that they get the whole gc wheezing at midnight on a school night

and usually they’re SO ridiculous that they only make sense to dan

“Dan you do realize we have practice tomorrow?”

“matt shut up this girl is talking like MARGE SIMPSON I CANT BREATHE”

most of the foxes text without proper capitalization or punctuation but matt and kevin and neil (and aaron) are all very proper with their texting

dan makes fun of matt all the time bc he doesn’t seem like the kind of person to Use Proper English but matt doesn’t understand why everyone can’t just use capitals when it’s automatic (he doesn’t know how to turn it off)

neil uses proper grammar just bc it doesn’t occur to him to do anything else

andrew uses lowercase bc it reads like a monotone to him and he thinks it’s ~cool~ and he also likes making kevin mad

sometimes he’ll use the wrong punctuation and grammar on purpose just to get kevin to reply to his texts

eventually nicky realizes he can change the group name and the group photo so he starts the most chaotic conversation by dramatically changing it to a snapchat screenshot of neil asleep on andrew’s lap and calling the gc SEXY EXY BESTIES 👅💦

it stays like that for all of two minutes before kevin notices and quickly changes the name to The Foxes

and then it becomes a free for all as everyone tries to be smart and snarky and ridiculous

stans of kevin’s left hand

the foxwhore court

🧡 Neil Josten Fanclub 🧡

life’s like a game of exy🥍

periodically throughout the week someone will change the name as they see fit - normally it’s something stupid but sometimes they’ll start an actual conversation by changing the group name

The Ungrateful Foxes

fuck you kevin

Guys plz be nice to Kevin

YOU KNOW, I GET IT—

The Worst Team in the NCAA

fuck you kevin

GO TO SLEEP NEIL!!!

one time after they’d spent like two weeks being called wymack’s whores, andrew decided he’d had enough of that so he just renamed it 🖕🏻🦊

and they do have a separate gc with wymack (they just don’t need to bother him with all their shitty commentary)

but funny enough, they’re almost worse in the wymack gc

at first wymack tried to control everyone by kicking people out who misbehaved, but then it just kept happening until it was him, kevin and renee left and he had to let it go

now all the foxes will text him at the most random times with the most random of questions

they also have a running joke where they all call him dad

kevin hates it, but wymack secretly thinks it’s hilarious and sweet

“hey dad can we get pizza after practice tomorrow???”

“dad nicky’s being a bitch can you make him run extra laps”

“WAIT DID YOU GUYS KNOW THAT WYMACK IS KEVIN’S ACTUAL DAD??? *blinking man gif*”

kevin starts leaving the gc instead of waiting to be kicked out

#should i do another one of these #this was SO FUCKING FUN #aftg #aftg headcanon #aftg hc #tfc #headcanon #mine #personal

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skellebonez · 3 years

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So apparently in JTTW, Baije kept trying to get the monk to say the thing that would activate the torture headband? According to a post I just saw anyway. So I'd like to prompt something where Monkie Kid era Monkey King and Pigsy are arguing, and Monkey King brings that up, because it's kind of /messed up/. Preferably with prompts 25 or 47 because those seem vaguely fluffy and I don't want it to end /sad/ plz?

There are multiple times in the book (though it happened more often early on) where Zhu Bajie took full advantage of how much Tripitaka trusted him and made Wukong’s day miserable because of it, he isn’t the middle brother for nothing! The two have a better relationship as the book goes on, but as an eldest sibling I can tell you... even if you're on good terms later, sometimes you still remember the ways they used to mess with you... also I went overboard. Very overboard. This is really long.

"You have until the count of three to remove your arms from my person, or so help me…!"/ “Tell me what you want me to do."

Things had been going so well... at least as well as could be expected given they had only really seen each other twice after 500 years of Sun Wukong vanishing.

Their first meeting, their initial reunion, wasn't so much a meeting and more "hey I'm here to help MK fight because things are actually really bad and I totally don't already know who two of you are" and then lots of saving the world without the time to talk to or call out his once elder brother before he ran off. Their second meeting was not long after, Wukong coming to check up on MK at the shop and "oh yeah uh I kinda know your boss Bud". Which. Nice job revealing his secret Wukong.

That was a very interesting conversation, explaining to MK that he was indeed The Zhu Bajie from the stories and yes Tang knew and no only Tang knew and no he did not want to talk about why this was kept secret. Then it devolved into MK insisting the two of them needed to hang out together and then questions about Sandy and then how it was so cool that his dad was friends with his mentor. The at first befuddled and then completely shocked expression on Wukong's face as he finally put two and two together made agreeing to MK's insistence so much easier.

Easier than being pogo'd to Flower Fruit Mountain and then being stuck there as MK ran off to do "hero stuff" with Mei, anyway. At first it was awkward, being shown around the mountain by a man who he had spent years of his life with and was clearly trying to not look uncomfortable at the time lost between them.

Then the monkeys attacked. Well. Less attacked, more jumped on Pigsy in sheer excitement. It only took a few seconds for Wukong to cackle and pull them off him with the care of a roughhouseing father. Some of them were just little ones barely new to the world (he didn't miss how much more careful Wukong was with them), but Pigsy recognized a few of the elder ones from the time he had come here to bring Wukong back after the... WBS and Wood Wolf... event.

He also didn't expect any of them to actually remember him or to see Wukong acting so positively parental in comparison to how he acted the last time he was here. It was strange, he knew the Monkey King could be caring and that he had changed on their journey and must have become different over their time apart, but this was a side he had never truely thought he would see from him ever before. And he couldn't help but chuckle a bit at that.

It was like a tension line was finally let slack. They didn't simply slide back into banter, but they were much more relaxed. Wukong pointed out where he had been training MK, showed him to where his house stood (Pigsy wondered if he ever tried to rebuild the palace that had burnt down long before he visited all those years ago, but did not dare to bring that up either). The house was much more modern than he had expected, even having full internet access and TV and a kitchen.

He would never tell anyone about the passionate 1 hour conversation they had about cooking when he realized Wukong picked it up as a hobby. No one will ever know their debate/rant on how to properly prepare dough for steaming and how so many people do it wrong.

At some point they ate a lunch Wukong had prepared, much better than Pigsy expected, and that's probably when it went downhill.

He'd made an offhanded joke about people who use too much seasoning. Wukong joked back, asking if his underseasoned cooking was up to Pigsy's standards. Pigsy had shoved the monkey on old reflex, not hard and not nearly enough to move him, saying if he wanted him to compliment his cooking he could have just asked like a good big brother.

That had started a friendly wrestling match, not unlike ones they had had before and that drew a crowed of monkeys excited to watch. That wrestling match turned more violent before Pigsy had realized it and somehow, some way, they started actually fighting. He yelled about how Wukong had no right to just make MK his sucessor. Wukong yelled about how he chose MK because he was the most qualified and capable person he found. Pigsy shot back that he barely knew him before training him and if he had even bothered to try knowing him he would have known he was Pigsy's kid and he was a shitty mentor. Wukong screamed at that, scaring off most of their audience with the volume, picking Pigsy up off the ground entirely with his arms pinned down.

"You take that back right now, Bajie!" Wukong hissed out in a dangerous tone, one Pigsy didn't give a single damn about heeding in his anger.

"You have until the count of three to remove your arms from my person, or so help me...!" Pigsy fought against Wukong's hold, scrambling for any kind of purchase he could get with his feet dangling off the ground.

"Or what, Bajie? What!? Are you going to find another fillet and tell MK the sutra for it this time!? Are you going to make him not trust me like you did Tripitaka!? ARE YOU!?"

The words made Pigsy stop, but it was Wukong's tone that made him try to turn back to look at him. He'd sounded angry before but now he sounded... genuinely upset. Not angry upset. Sad upset. "I wouldn't do that."

"You did before." Damn it. He really was sad upset...

"Yeah... Yeah, I did." Pigsy admitted with only slight hesitation as he looked at the ground beneath him. "I'm sorry. About how I acted back then. I made everything harder than needed. I made Master hurt you and you didn't deserve it. More often than I'd like to admit..." There was a beat of silence before he decided to take a chace with a question that would probably upset Wukong more. But he had to ask. "How... how painful was it?"

The two of them didn't move for a while, Pigsy just hanging limply until Wukong slowly leaned down and set his feet back on ground. His grip losened slighly, but he didn't let Pigsy go as he rested his forehead against the back of Pigsy's head with a sigh. "Very. Very painful. It... the way it... Bajie, I don't want to-"

"You don't have to," Pigsy interrupted, raising one of his arms now that he could move to grab and squeeze his wrist. "If 'very' is all you want to say, I get it. I'm sorry."

"You already said that."

"And I'll say it again because I mean it." Pigsy pulled away, Wukong’s grip weakened enough for him to without even the smallest fight, and turned around to face him.

He reached up, Wukong giving him an odd confused look as he placed his hands over and around his forehead. Realization dawned quickly and he tensed as Pigsy felt the almost imperceptible scars hidden under his well groomed fur. For the band to have been impactful enough to leave marks at all, let alone after all this time... some didn't feel like cuts or stretches, more like burns almost.

"I'm sorry too," Wukong said suddenly. "For being an ass. I wasn't exactly the greatest travel companion myself at times. And for... for disappearing."

"I already forgave ya for the stuff on the journey long ago," Pigsy said as he pulled his hands back and crossed his arms. "Couldn't sit right with myself if I held a grudge for what you did after the shit I pulled. But I appreciate the apology for up and vanishing. And uh, I'm sorry for calling you a shitty mentor."

"You better be!" Wukong chuckled, standing up straight with an awkward crooked smile. "But, you know, I could stand to be a better teacher. You weren't wrong when I said I don’t know enough about MK."

"I could tell you a few things," Pigsy offered. "Nothing personal, just like how we met and what his job is like. To make up for the. Everything."

"Hmn..." Wukong made a point to rub his chin in thought, clearly about to do something Pigsy wondered if they would both regret. "On one condition."

"Tell me what you want me to do," Pigsy sighed out, fully resigned for whatever the Monkey King was going to ask.

"Cook me dinner."

... that... was not what he expected at all. "That's it?"

"That's it!"

That wasn't near enough to make up for anything in Pigsy's mind... but if that’s what Wukong wanted he supposed that was a start.

#im rereading the book and rewatching osps videos #i added in enough references to a particular story i think #i know it 99.99% unlikely the fillet left any marks #let me have this for one fill #pigsy #monkey king #sun wukong #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #prompt fill

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

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So, I had this idea for a harry imagine where they met during the 1D days and they took a trip for the summer alone and Harry wrote 'Summer love' for the reader. Then the reader got famous with a solo album and they never saw each other after that summer besides award shows and stuff. But then the reader puts out a song 'Summer by Kesha' which is a response to Summer love and Harry approaches the reader after the Brits (where she preformed) and wants to reconnect. You can end it yourself ❤️.

A/N: First Imagine after having covid. I’ve been trying to write this for weeks and my head was stuffy half the time, so I hope this turned out okay. Sorry it took so long. <3

Word Count: 4,378

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Summer Love

It was always there; that weird underlying tension that fizzled in the air after releasing a particularly personal song. It was easy to write about, and even to perform in front of thousands of strangers, but when it came to interviews it seemed more difficult. Doubts started to settle in and you’d start to kick yourself about releasing something so obvious.

Y/N should be used to the feeling by now. She’s been doing this, professionally, for nearly six years now, and although she quickly and easily built thick skin, always pulling herself out of potentially awkward questions without getting too in-depth about personal meanings of songs and whom they might be about, always handling it with the right amount of grit and edge, to be performing at an award show in front of hundreds of fellow musicians whom she’s looked up to for years was a terrifying prospect. Especially considering he would be watching from the audience as she performed a song written about him.

She didn’t intend for this to happen. She didn’t even want to perform that song. But when she tried to fight against it, they almost pulled her out of performing and it wasn’t worth being cut. It was her first year performing at the Brits and her third year attending. She was still fairly new on the scene despite the amount of time she had been recording, and this was her biggest year in her career so far since the release of her new single. It was mostly due to the rumors behind the song, though the rumors did hold some truth.

She wrote it in response to a song He released about her years ago, but she’d been thinking of the right words to say and the perfect song to write for so long that she was sure people had forgotten by now. Back then, Y/N was too afraid to sing in front of people. But her stage fright didn’t affect her ability to make new friends. She was a wild child at heart and could make friends anywhere she went. She just happened to meet all the right friends in all the right places and it worked out in her favor. It’s how she met him in the first place. Y/N was lucky, and she knew it.

It was about ten years ago, now, when One Direction was dominating the scene. They had just finished their first tour and were on a short break for the summer when some of the boys attended a little party of a mutual friend of Y/N’s. She remembered the first time she saw him. His curly hair unruly and his dimples dreamy. It was at that party that she and Harry exchanged numbers. That was the start of it all.

They had spent nearly every day that summer together. Their differences in behavior would have a huge impact on each other and would set a tone in their own personalities for years to come. Y/N’s wild spirit and carefree energy was something Harry tried to implement in his life as often as he could. It was because of Y/N that he took more risks and started living increasingly by his own rules where he could. And Harry showed her peace. His calm and acceptance taught her how to take a step back and relax. They were yin and yang.

That summer was one they’d never forget and would find themselves randomly thinking about for years after, Getting high, drunk, hanging with friends, kissing until their lips hurt, sex whenever they could get an ounce of privacy, laughing until they cried. Two stupid teenagers having the time of their lives.

The thing about spending so much intimate time with someone for nearly two months was that you’d start to actually fall for them. Harry was the first to say the words ‘I love you’. Their friends would joke and make fun of them for thinking it would be anything more than a summer fling. How could it? They were having too much fun together. All of Harry’s friends loved Y/N, and Harry was the first person outside of her immediate family to hear her sing and encourage her to pursue music. Neither of them wanted it to end. But as August turned to September they both knew. They were young and naive to think it could last.

Y/N remembered the last time they saw each other. She found herself often thinking about it when she was sad and alone. They were at a private beach and the water was too rough to swim in so they stayed on the sand and talked. Harry was about to leave for London the next day and Y/N would be starting back at school soon. They whined about how they didn’t want summer to end. Y/N started getting emotional and Harry began to cry, too. They kissed and cuddled, crying to each other. They told each other that they’d try to keep in touch, but they both knew this was goodbye.

Pictures of them together leaked of that day and rumors began to spread like wildfire. It got even crazier when their next album came out and they released a song called ‘Summer Love’. Fans immediately linked it to the leaked pictures of her and Harry at the beach and her social media blew up with people in her DMs asking for details and stories that she never entertained.

She got angry. How could he write a song about her but not keep in contact? She started pouring herself into her music. It was barely two years later that one of her friends introduced her to a producer and she began to make music. No one expected her career to gain momentum so quickly. Her, least of all. She had no clue what it took to be famous and the first year was the hardest. Especially the interviews.

It was difficult, at first, figuring out how to navigate her ‘girl next door’ image when she couldn’t seem to break free from the narrative of being one of Harry Styles's ex-girlfriends. It would be brought up in nearly every interview and it got tiring. That’s when Y/N made the decision to stop caring about her ‘image’ and to be true to herself. She started shutting down questions related to her personal relationships and showed more of her goofy and real side. Eventually, it became less about Harry and more about how people connected with her as a person. Y/N was refreshing to see amongst all the same talent that’s been on the scene for a while.

There were times where Y/N and Harry would attend the same events and cross paths. He definitely remembered her and they’d share a quick nod or wave in passing, but they’d always be whistles in different directions, unable to speak. Until one event, in particular, last year.

Nothing crazy happened. It was just a fundraiser dinner and a lot of celebrities were in attendance. There were theatrical performances and a few bands playing while they ate, along with intermittent speeches and auctions. Photographers and videographers circled the hundreds in attendance, getting some behind the scene shots, but for the most part, everyone just mingled.

Y/N brought her manager and boyfriend at the time, and she sat at a table with James Corden, his wife, and manager, as well as a few other lesser-known celebs that were more into the business aspect of things. Everyone was talking. She found out that James’s wife was a big fan of hers and they were all laughing at something Y/N said, making promises to be on his show again soon, when a figure loomed behind them, tapping James on the shoulder but getting everyone’s attention, turning to see Harry.

“Oh, Harry! Hello mate! How are you doing?” James asked, attempting to hug him from his seat.

“Alright, man, how are you?” Harry asked, grinning coyly and awkwardly, waving at the rest of the table, “Hello!” and then he looked at Y/N, eyes glistening and nodding, “Hi.”

“Hey,” she grinned back nicely, tight-lipped, as her boyfriend’s arms snaked around her waist, pulling her just a little closer to him.

Her boyfriend, well-known for having a famous dad, had no clue of the history between Y/N and Harry but was a fairly jealous guy. He didn’t trust anyone around Y/N and it was something she resented in their relationship.

Harry turned his attention back to James after eyeing the couple, “I was just checking to see if you’d be performing tonight, too?” Harry joked, “Maybe a little number from Into The Woods?” he smirked, earning a laugh from the table and roars from James.

“No, no. They can’t afford me,” James played along.

“It’s a charity, James,” Harry shot back, “Or maybe they were worried people would walk out.”

“Excuse you! That musical had eleven nominations and three awards, thank you very much!” James laughed, pointing out the empty seat across from him and Y/N, “Would you like to join us?”

Harry agreed, taking the seat, and he stayed there for the rest of the night. He talked with everyone at the table, watched the speeches, and listened to bands play. Eventually, he got enough courage to start conversing more with Y/N, shocked to find that, although she’s grown in the last several years and had a pretty shitty boyfriend, she was still relatively the same carefree, wild spirit he met at that party.

They talked about the release of his first solo album and his time on his first solo tour. They talked about how she was working on a new album herself and the recent interview she had with James that seemed to be a contender for most-viewed. Harry had seen it, as well. He was enjoying being in her company again but could do without her boyfriend that seemed to butt-in at every chance he could. And from the looks of it, Y/N was annoyed about it, as well.

By the end of the night, Harry was kicking himself for not getting her number. As he lay alone in bed, those memories of that summer began flooding back as it did every few months since, and speaking with her today struck him. He felt nostalgic, missing their sandy kisses and midnight strolls. How they used to stay up all night talking on the phone just to see each other again when the sun rose. He contemplated reaching out via Instagram or Twitter but ultimately decided that she had long since gotten over him and that there was no point considering she had a boyfriend.

Except that wasn’t true. The whole car journey back to her hotel, Y/N sat in silence recalling every moment of the night and longing for that old connection for Harry back. The second she and her boyfriend got back to her room, she grabbed her notebook, ignoring her boyfriend’s beckons to join him in bed, and went to work. It was the fastest song she had ever written, taking a total of two hours. And she broke things off with her boyfriend not two weeks later. The news broke in less than twenty-four hours and it was the top story for weeks.

She almost didn’t include the song in her album, but at the last minute, she decided to add it. She figured enough time had passed where people wouldn’t know who it was about. She was wrong. Big time.

Her impending performance at the Brits was all anyone could talk about, and now that the day was here, Y/N’s nerves were reeling. The thought of singing this song and knowing Harry was here watching was enough to make her want to throw up. Every time the camera panned to Harry during the awards with his face plastered on a large screen off to the side, Y/N was certain she’d pass out. Luckily they were on separate ends of the stage and she couldn’t really see him from where she sat, so she just avoided the screen. Her normal ‘don’t care’ attitude was gone.

Soon, she was taken backstage to get wired and ready for her performance. She bounced up and down in her heels trying to summon some energy and shake the nerves, messing with the dangling strands of hair that framed her face and wiping her sweaty palms on her sleek, satin red dress with one off-the-shoulder draping sleeve and a long side-slit.

She was led out to a pitch dark stage and was positioned in the center, hands gripping tightly on her mic as a presenter on another stage finished a short speech and introduced the next act. Y/N looked down at her feet, listening, waiting for her queue, afraid to look up amongst the crowd of very talented, very famous peers.

“The incredible Y/F/N Y/L/N, with her new single, SUMMER!”

The lights shone brightly on Y/N and she began to sing, followed by the sounds of piano.

“I haven’t seen you since the summer

But you feel just like I remember…..”

Her heart pounded as she walked towards the edge of the stage, finally getting the courage to look up and into their faces, everyone smiling, bobbing their heads, and most even singing along. She scanned the audience, her mind racing, terrified and shocked that she had even found the courage to go through with singing this song here. And then she saw him. He sat towards the left of the stage at a circular table, close to the front, looking up at her, listening intently, with a lopsided smile, and their eyes locked.

That’s when something weird happened. The anxiety she felt just seconds before had washed away. For weeks, this had been her worst nightmare; having to sing this song to his face. She had given herself countless pep talks and dozens of plans to avoid eye contact with anyone in the audience while she sang just in case she ended up looking at Harry. But now that it’s happened, a sense of relief has washed over her. There were so many things she wanted to say to him over the past few years, but for some reason, singing this song at him seemed like enough for the time being. It summed it all up.

He could feel eyes on him, not just from Y/N, but from his table and those around him, as well. Everyone knew of the rumors about this song. Everyone assumed it was about him. Honestly, he figured it was about him, too. Some of the lyrics seemed to point to that summer. But assuming he meant enough to her, especially enough to write a song after all this time, seemed extremely arrogant of him, so he avoided vocalizing his thoughts on the topic and always pushed it aside when it was brought to his attention.

When he heard that she would be performing the song at the Brits, a part of him was scared. He didn’t know how he should react. Should he play it cool? Should he sing along? Should he ignore her performance? But when he saw her on the stage in front of him, he couldn’t take his eyes away. A smile formed on his face and all he could feel was pride. He was proud that he got to know her before all of the fame and got to see the talent before she blew up. He was proud that she worked so hard to get to where she was.

And then they locked eyes.

He was speechless. It wasn’t a particularly heart-wrenching song in its own right, but he could feel the meaning behind the lyrics deep in his chest. Harry could see the tension fading from Y/N’s eyes, something that would barely be noticed unless you were looking for it. And he laughed as she bounced and skipped around the stage. She kicked her heels off which earned an outrageous amount of screams and claps and he laughed as she spun around the stage, barefoot. There she was; that beautiful, carefree girl he’d known when they were just teenagers. And as the song ended and she began to slow down, they caught eyes once more and they smiled before the lights began to dim and everyone in the audience stood, clapping. Harry among them.

“Wow. That was incredible,” his sister, Gemma, awed beside him.

They shared a look; one of both knowing and apprehension. He never told Gemma about Y/N. Sure, she knew of the rumors and saw the pictures, but they never went into detail about their love lives with each other. She didn’t want to push anything out of her brother, but she was a fan of Y/N’s and didn’t want to make her brother feel uncomfortable if she was supporting an artist whom he had any sort of resentment about. But by the look of his smile and nod of agreeance, she knew that it was no trouble.

He found himself often peaking over the heads of the crowd in an attempt to steal a glance at her. And whenever he stood to clap, or collect an award, no matter how hard he tried to conceal his curiosity, he would always end up locking eyes. When she won the first award of her career, he clapped louder and longer than anyone else, and he knew that he was giving himself away. Everyone who had come with him had realized that he was increasingly becoming more interested in her as the night progressed.

When the award show was finally over, he attempted to shuffle amongst the crowd, hoping to catch her before she left, but that proved difficult as he kept getting stopped by other friends and celebrities wanting to congratulate him on his winnings and aiming to have a conversation with him. By the time he had reached her table, she had already gone.

The afterparty was brimming with people, with both celebrities who had gone to the awards, and some who hadn’t. The music was so loud in areas that you could hardly hear others speak. Servers were weaving in and out of people with trays of food and drinks while people talked, danced, and consorted. He was always surprised by the mix of people he saw at afterparties and the friendships he had never expected.

He was in the middle of a conversation with his sister, Alexa Chung, and a few others, when a reflection of glistening light just beyond their group caught his eye, and he looked past his friends to see Y/N standing towards the other end of the room laughing with James Corden, just like she had been the last time he saw her. He had made up his mind in an instant and politely excused himself, making his way over.

“Hello,” he dragged, cautiously edging up towards the two.

They both looked up and he noticed the surprise in Y/N’s eyes before James exclaimed, “Harry! How’s it going, mate?”

“I’m alright, James. And you?” He asked, and before James could respond he turned towards Y/N and muttered, “Hey.”

“Jesus Christ, Harold, you’re not very subtle, are you?” he joked.

It was only a joke, but both Y/N and Harry began to blush. James, too, knew of the rumors and even pressed his friend, off the record, about his brief encounter with Y/N. He knew that there were some reserved emotions between the two old lovers, but by the look of their reaction, it seemed to be a bit greater than he had anticipated and he knew he might have just inadvertently created a bit of tension between the two.

“Well, it was nice to see you both, but I’ve got to go look for my wife before she leaves me for Shawn Mendes,” James lied, giving both of them a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek, “Have a good night.”

They watched as James snuck off and stood there in a moment of silence as the room around them only got louder. Y/N smirked, waiting for Harry to say something. Years, she had pictured this moment. Years she had imagined having a conversation as more than just a passing node or group discussion. Still, if he didn’t get a move on, someone could interrupt them and it’d be just another fleeting moment in their years worth of run-ins.

“You look lovely,” he finally noted, motioning towards her dress.

Y/N snorted, raising an eyebrow, “Come on, Harry, what’d you really want to say?”

Harry grinned nervously, shaking his head, she could see right through him, “Could never get anything past you, could I?”

“Never,” she smiled, crossing her arms.

He looked at her a moment, scanning her eyes before his face turned more serious, “...I missed you.”

“Oh? Did you?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, teasingly jutting his head forward matter-of-factly, “I did.”

“I guess I missed you, too. If you couldn’t tell by the song,” she added, giggling.

“Oh, was that about me?” he asked sarcastically.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Nah, couldn’t be. Some other bloke, some other summer.”

Harry laughed, astounded. So much time had passed and Y/N was seldom not on his mind. Sure, he had seen her in passing at the many award shows and alongside him on the internet, but he always wondered what time had done to her. He, himself, had learned and evolved with time and with knowledge. He hadn’t considered himself a ‘changed’ man, like so many that had gained money and an ounce of power, but rather he considered himself just grown. He wondered if she would be the same and often worried that the lifestyle would have sucked her dry. He sees it time and time again, lively people turning into shells of their past while trying to keep up with the scene.

But seeing her here, now, he knew that not to be true. She seemed every bit herself, just….grown. More confident, smarter, but just as playful and beautiful as ever. The nerves he was feeling before had gone, replaced with the silliness that he remembered always feeling when he was around her.

“So, we’ve established that I missed you and you missed me. What should we do about that?” he asked, rather flirtatiously.

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side and as if it was the simplest answer said, “Well, I suppose that means you should ask me out to dinner.”

Harry smiled wider, “So no boyfriend, then?”

She shook her head, a playful smirk forming on her face, “Not unless you’re asking.”

His mouth fell open slightly. Her forwardness was always something he fawned over, and before he could speak, a dark-haired girl slunk up to the two of them and they turned to see Gemma. Y/N had never met Gemma before and only knew of her from the stories Harry told her when they were younger. Of course, she’s seen pictures of his older sister, but seeing them side-by-side she could see the similarities between the two siblings.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt…” Gemma started.

Y/N shook her head, “No, you’re not. It’s Gemma, right? I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Harry watched as his sister attempted to stop ogling and accepted Y/N’s offer for a hug and polite kiss on either cheek. He knew Gemma must be internally freaking out as she admitted, “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan.”

“Thank you. You look gorgeous, by the way. I can tell who got the good genes,” Y/N smiled, poking fun at Harry.

He feigned hurt and elongated, “Heeeeyyyyy.”

“Hush, now. The girls are talking,” Y/N winked.

The three spent most of the night together, conversing with dozens of other celebrities who approached them, but they hadn’t strayed from each other all night. Their conversation seemed endless and never ran out of things to say. They even started getting a little childish and would sneak off and explore the hotel in which the party was held. Harry was happy to see that his sister and Y/N had quickly become friends, even if it was at the expense of his ego. But as the night continued and the three fought to hide their exhaustion, it had gotten too late and Y/N’s manager had finally found them.

“Come on, Y/N, we should get going,” the blonde tugged at Y/N’s arm.

Y/N nodded, “Yeah, alright.”

They all stood up and gave each other hugs goodbye, “It was nice to see you again,” Y/N whispered into Harry’s ear, lingering in his embrace just a second longer before pulling away, smiling, and following her manager towards the exit.

Harry watched after her, sad to see her walking away again. Why was sleep even a thing? He could spend hours more talking to her about utter nonsense, filling in the gaps of all of their missed time together. He felt a nudge to the left of him from Gemma and he turned to see her urging eyes. He knew what she meant. And he didn’t need another nudge. In seconds, he bolted up and jogged ahead, catching up with them. Y/N must have heard his footsteps, because she turned, amused to see Harry yielding, out of breath.

“Forget something?” she joked, crossing her arms with a smile.

He grinned, nodding, “Your number.”

She smiled wider, holding her hand out for his phone and when he passed it to her, she quickly inputted her number and saved it, handing it back. “Please pass my number along to your sister, too.”

“Are you just using me to get to Gemma?” Harry joked.

“Of course I am,” Y/N laughed. There was a moment of silence before Y/N leaned in, kissing him softly on the cheek before stepping back towards her manager, “Don’t lose my number this time, yeah?”

Harry shook his head, lips twitching, “Never. I won’t make that mistake again.”

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

Taglist:

@odetostep @mylittleangel9403 @thurhomish @fallingfordolans

206 notes · View notes

teenwolffan-with-nolife · 3 years

Text

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.33

Word Count: 2,353

Characters: Derek Hale (brief), Isaac Lahey, Cora Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall (mentioned), Allison Argent (mentioned), Ethan Steiner, Aiden Steiner, Kali, Deucalion, Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: shitty writing, small fluff, angst, character death(s)

A/N: thanks to everyone who’s binged this series in the past few days, this part will let you all down majorly with it’s bad writing so sorry in advance

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Dad? No!” you fell to your knees, your hands shaking as you pulled out the glass shard from his chest. You could see the blood spilling out as you put your hands on it, putting pressure to stop the blood.

“S-Say something,” you said shakily, pressing onto his wound.

His eyes were closed, you could see more and more blood spilling.

“Oh, god! Dad, please, please don’t die,” you cried as his body laid in front of you.

You could tell he was already gone, his body was limp as he laid in front of you. He wasn't breathing.

“(Y/N), what's going on… holy shit!” Isaac stood in front of you, looking down in shock.

Your eyes were red as you looked up at him, drenched in your dad’s blood.

“I-I killed him,” you stuttered, gasping for air.

“What happened?” Isaac ran to you.

“I-I….” you could feel your head pounding as you wheezed, trying to breathe.

“I-I need to…. his body,” you cried.

“Shit! O-Okay, this is what we're gonna do. I-I’ll get rid of his body. Y-You need to clean up the blood a-and the glass and anything that shows he was here,” Isaac said, sitting next to you.

“I killed him, Isaac! I-I killed…” you sobbed loudly, as you looked at your hands, covered in blood.

“(Y/N)! You need to get it together. We need to do this now! What if someone heard you? What if someone comes? We need to do this now,” Isaac yelled. standing up.

“I-Isaac, I-I killed him,” you cried.

“(Y/N),” he grabbed your arm, pulling you up roughly.

“We need to do this now. Go!” he yelled as you nodded your head, running to your bathroom, gathering cleaning supplies.

---

You held your head in your hands, shaking as you took deep breaths, remembering the event from the previous night.

Isaac disappeared, you hadn't seen him since then. He must've spent the night someplace else.

Flashes of images. Blood on your hands and clothes. Blood spilled on your floor. A body. A dead body. Your father’s body.

You felt shivers go down your spine as you gripped your head, rocking slightly.

You couldn't hear the noise of someone knocking on your door, too preoccupied with your thoughts.

“(Y/N),” you jumped as Cora walked to you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“What happened? What's wrong?” she asked.

You wiped your face, standing up.

“N-Nothing’s wrong,” you shook your head.

She looked at you, raising an eyebrow. She always knew when you were lying.

“What happened?” she asked again.

“Nothing happened,” you said again.

“Just tell me,” she said.

“D-Don’t worry about it,” you replied softly.

“(Y/N)...” she started.

“What are you doing here?” you tried to change the topic.

She gave you a look, before sighing.

“I’m going to Beacon Hills, I need Isaac and Boyd,” Cora explained.

“Why?” you asked.

“The alpha pack is coming after Derek tonight. He needs help, even if he won’t admit it,” you bit your lip softly, taking a deep breath.

“Oh,” you replied.

“Okay, seriously? What’s going on?” Cora asked.

“Why do you think something's going on?” you asked softly.

“Because I know you,” she shrugged.

“Please, Cora, I’m fine. Just stop asking me,” you rubbed your head.

“If you’re fine, then spend the day with me. We’re going to Beacon Hills,” Cora shrugged.

“I-I can’t. I have to go to my actual school,” you replied.

“Now that's a lie. You don't care about college. Just drop out already,” she said.

“I do care, I want to do something in my life, not be a 20-year-old who runs after teenagers who don't know how to do anything in life,” you said.

Cora laughed loudly, leaning onto you.

“That is what he does. Oh, come on, (Y/N), please?” she begged.

“I can’t even get into the school, I’m not a student anymore,” you said.

“They have no security at the school. Come on,” she linked arms with you, pulling you with her.

The real reason was that you didn’t want to see Isaac. Not after last night. He was very clearly trying to keep his distance, as well as you.

“What happened to that glass vase thingy?” Cora asked, you could feel your heart racing.

“It broke,” you said softly.

“Okay, then. Come on, let's go,” she kept pulling

you until you agreed to go.

---

“Cora? What are you doing here?” you heard Isaac say, calling from behind the two of you.

You turned around, as his eyes went wide, looking at you. You bit your lip, looking down.

Cora eyed the two of you.

“I need you to go to Derek. You and Boyd. The alpha pack is going to go after him and he needs help,” Cora said.

“Yeah, of course. Uhm, we’ll go now,” he said, nodding softly as he took a step back.

Don't do it, (Y/N)

You found yourself running to Isaac, pulling him aside.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“I’m okay. Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Just… be careful,” he said softly.

You hugged him softly, as he rested his chin on your head.

“Crap, I have to go now. I’ll see you,” he waved at you, walking away.

“What happened? You have to tell me,” Cora said.

“Let’s go,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Did you see that?” Cora said, looking behind you.

“What was it?” you asked, turning around to see an empty hallway.

“Oh hell no,” she ran to the fire alarm, pulling it.

“Cora, what the hell-” she held your hand, pulling you outside of Coach’s office.

Aiden ran out of the office as you raised an eyebrow, eyes dropping as you saw Lydia standing in front of you.

Your jaw dropped as you stared at her.

“What are you two doing here?!” she exclaimed.

“Next time I catch the two of you together, I won't just pull the fire alarm,” Cora threatened.

You stood quietly, watching the two of them talking while your mind drifted away.

Not now

You turned your back to them, rubbing your fingers through your hair.

“(Y/N),” Cora called.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” you wiped your eyes as you made your way through the hallway, going to the bathroom.

---

You could see your hands shaking, your teeth chattering as you leaned on the sink, closing your eyes.

You heard the door creak, as your head shot up, looking around.

You immediately recognized the sound of a walking cane tapping the tiles.

You turned around, clenching your jaw as you watched Deucalion walk into the bathroom.

You stepped back, away from him.

“I’m not here to hurt you, (Y/N),” he said.

“Get away from me,” you spat.

“How did it feel?” he asked you.

“What are you talking about?” you paused, looking at him cautiously.

“Killing him,” he replied.

You felt your spine shiver as your heart began to race.

“I-I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stuttered.

“It must've felt amazing. Killing him. He tried to kill you twice, didn’t he?” Deucalion stepped closer to you, while you felt your back hit the wall.

You remained quiet, taking a deep breath as you looked down.

“You watched him bleed out. You watched him suffering. It made you feel good,” he said.

“What do you want?” you spat.

“I want to help you,” he said.

“I don't need your help. You almost killed…” you started.

“Derek doesn't care about you anymore. He made that clear. Look at your eyes, (Y/N). You’ll need my help,” he lowered his glasses, his eyes flashing red before he walked away from you.

You exhaled sharply, leaning against the sink as you looked at your eyes in the mirror. You gasped softly, looking at your eyes, which were pitch-black.

You shit your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath as you get your heart stop. You whimpered softly, opening your eyes slowly, as they reverted to their normal color.

“(Y/N),” you jumped as Cora stood by the door, crossing her arms.

“Y-Yeah,” you turned to her.

“What is up with you? Something clearly happened,” Cora crossed her arms, giving you a look.

“Nothing happened. What is it?” you wiped your face, walking to her.

“The vet was taken. Stiles thinks Lydia can help,” Cora explained, giving you a look.

“Well then let’s go,” your voice was barely above a whisper as you walked past her, walking away.

---

“Hey, is it too much to ask you guys to get off your phones?! We need help here!” Stiles exclaimed grumpily while you put your phone down, getting a look from Cora.

“What are we doing?” you asked.

“We’re trying to get Lydia to tell us where Deaton is,” you raised an eyebrow as Stiles put a ouija board in front of the four of you.

“Stiles, her powers don’t work like that,” you started.

“Shhh, c’mon it's worth a try,” you sighed, rubbing your head before placing your hands on the board.

“Where is Deaton?” Stiles asked aloud.

The three of you looked at Lydia, who raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, me?” she said.

“Yes, you,” Stiles replied.

You turned your head to Cora, who continued to give you a look.

You knew you had to tell her eventually, but you couldn't bring yourself to say the words.

“Okay, how about a break, and then we come back, yeah? (Y/N),” Cora grabbed your arm, pulling you out the door before you had a chance to reply.

You heard Stiles’ frustrated groans as the two of you left.

“Cora,” you started.

“I know we haven't seen each other for a long time. But you’re still my best friend and I still care about you. I'm here for you, (Y/N),” she started.

You could feel your body getting warmer as you rubbed your neck.

“I know that, but,” you tried to speak.

“So do you just not trust me anymore? Is that it?” she asked softly.

You wiped your face nervously, rubbing your fingers through your hair.

“I trust you, Cora. O-Of course I trust you. B-But this is….” your voice broke as you took a deep breath.

“(Y/N), there’s nothing that can happen, that you can do, that will change anything between us,” she held your hand softly as you sniffled.

“I-I….” you stopped as your voice broke, unable to say the words.

“(Y/N),” she said softly.

“I killed… I killed someone,” you saw her entire body tense up as her hand dropped from yours.

“I-I didn’t mean to. I-I lost control… and,” you stuttered as tears fell from your face.

“Okay, hey, it’s okay,” Cora wrapped her arms around you tightly.

“I’m a terrible person, I-I…” you held your cries in as you held onto her.

“It’s not… It’s okay. We’ll figure this out,” she cooed softly.

“Isaac got rid of his body and that’s why I-I didn't tell you. I-I lost control and I-I killed him and I didn't mean to, I was just so mad and…” you continued crying while Cora wrapped her arms around you.

“It's okay, I understand,” she said softly, holding onto you.

---

You, Stiles, Lydia, and Cora made your way to the loft. After the day’s unsuccessfulness with trying to help figure out where Deaton was, Scott and Allison found a way to find him. For whatever reason, they all lied to you about what it was, and Cora said she’d tell you later.

Isaac texted you, saying they needed help. Kali and the other alphas somehow figured out Boyd’s plan of stopping Kali from killing Derek.

“What do we have to do?” Stiles whispered as the four of you made your way to the electric room.

“When Isaac texts me, start flipping all these switches. It’ll get the power back on, and shock Kali,” you explained.

You waited for a minute, before hearing your phone buzz. Isaac texted you.

“Now,” the four of you quickly flipped on the switches.

“Now what?” Cora asked.

“Let’s go,” you motioned up, as the four of you ran to the loft.

---

You and Cora ran in first, pushing Ethan and Aiden into the water, as Isaac ran, holding Jennifer back.

You looked down at her, as she gave you a look.

You took a deep breath, turning away from her.

“I-It’s off,” Cora gasped.

“What do you mean?” you exclaimed.

“Power. Look,” she said.

You saw as Ethan and Aiden wrapped their arms around Boyd, holding him up.

“W-What are they doing to him?” you said nervously.

Kali held Derek’s hands up, his claws coming out of his fingers, as he tried to fight her grip.

You gasped loudly, as tears instantly came to your eyes, watching as Derek’s class went into Boyd’s chest.

“N-No,” you pulled Cora’s arm, holding her back as she tried to run to him.

You watched as Kali, Ethan and Aiden walked past all of you, leaving Derek’s loft. Kali looked at you, winking before walking out. Cora pushed away from you, running to Boyd’s body as she cried. Your eyes were red as you looked at Derek, tears falling from his eyes. Boyd laid on the floor, lifeless while Cora held him.

“Boyd…” you looked at Isaac, who wrapped his arms around you tightly, burying his face.

You felt your tears fall freely, as you held onto Isaac tightly.

---

“Why does everyone around me keep dying?” you stroked Isaac's hair softly as he laid in your lap, on your bed.

“My mom’s dead, my brother's dead. My dad’s dead, and now Boyd too. D-Derek…. you’re the only person I have, (Y/N),” he shifted his position, laying down next to you.

“It’s gonna be okay, Isaac,” you said softly.

“I-It’s not. I-I’m scared to have people around me now. I can’t keep…” you wiped his tears softly, looking at him.

“You’re always going to have me,” you whispered.

More tears rushed to his eyes as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, while he buried his face in your chest, holding onto you.

97 notes · View notes

domesticmail · 3 years

Text

happy new year || vince dunn

AUTHOR’S NOTE: happy new year to everyone!!! i hope you’re all ringing in this year with love & kindness! this is a fic for @hockeynetwork ‘s fic exchange, particularly for @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys !!

i think you’re officially the last fic recipient of 2020, so congratulations!! i hope you like the fic <33

lots of thanks to @makarsy for beta-ing this for me!! <3

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: dysfunctional family, divorce, alcohol !

SUMMARY: going back to your hometown to visit your family for the holidays is supposed to be fun. accidentally running into your childhood best friend is supposed to be nostalgic. love is supposed to have a happy ending. nothing disappoints more than high expectations.

She’d hung the mistletoe right under the hallway arch. The gray-green leaves, attached to stems that seemed to sink with the gravity, dangled from the red ribbon holding them together, tied to a hook hanging from the highest point of the arch. Small berries, white in color, caught your eye as you stood, frozen, in the living room.

The familiar feeling of dread and terror floods your veins. Your chest begins to freeze over as your heart picks up pace. It’s like someone lit a bonfire in the middle of a glacier, and it’s melting you. If you were a little less aware, you’d think you were sinking to your knees, weakness invading and settling deep in the bones of your legs like the mere memory of him saps you of all your willpower.

There’s a strange floating feeling in the gravity you feel. It’s like you’re being pulled up and down simultaneously, and for a moment you feel so confused, and it scares you, this feeling of anxiety and fear.

A familiar hand settles on your shoulder, pulling you out of the spiral. “I thought maybe it’d be a...cute little touch.” From the way the deep voice is straining to hit a higher octave, you’re guessing it’s your brother, mimicking your mom.

You turn, and you’re right. He’s rolling his eyes, saying some smartass comment or another. Something about how she has no regard for anyone but herself. You nod noncommittally as he downs a glass of champagne. You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you should pace yourself? It’s just more fuel for Aunt Cindy.”

“Y/N, I’ve never cared about what she thinks, and I sure as hell am not gonna start now.”

You shrug as he looks you up and down. Your shitty christmas sweater is the only one you own, but it’s the perfect mixture of funny and definitely going to offend Mom. It’s a knitted, ugly green, and the front has Jesus with a party blower in his mouth. He’s wearing a birthday hat, one of the pointy cone ones, and is holding a white, circular balloon that has “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” written on it in red. He’s wearing a shirt that says “BIRTHDAY BOY”.

She nearly had a heart attack when she saw you wearing it last week. The mistletoe, then, is payback, presumably.

“Danny?”

He turns back to you, eyebrows raised.

“Are you getting more champagne?” You ask. He nods. “I want some too,” you sigh, joining him at the kitchen island. He smiles conspiratorially.

While he pours you a glass, you inquire about his life. You don’t see each other often, with you up in New York and him traveling over 300 days out of the year. “It’s a miracle you’re even here,” you joke.

Danny snorts, taking a sip of his own drink. “Couldn’t miss another family event, especially not since last month.”

Last month was his 10-year anniversary of joining the Bureau, a week after he turned 33. Your mother’s pride and joy, she’d gone all out, and had been infuriated when an hour into the party he’d been called to the office. And even while she was annoyed with his duties, she still took the time to go out of her way and inform both you and your sister, Jo, that “at least he has an important job.”

You laugh. “She was pissed.”

“Yeah, she called me later that day.”

“She called you? While you were at work?”

“Do you think she has any respect for my time?”

You raised your eyebrows, eyes wide in shock. “How can she possibly be so….not self-aware?”

“I have no clue.”

As though summoned by the mention of your mother, Jo enters the room, long blonde hair a mess around her face, red and puffy. She takes the spot next to you, grabs your champagne glass, and downs it.

“Hi, Jo,” you and Danny say in unison, neither of you surprised.

“Mom’s being such a bitch,” she spits, wiping her eyes. On her left hand, you spot something shiny, and it takes a moment for you to register the huge diamond ring on her finger. Like you can read each other’s minds, you and Danny look at each other, back to the ring, and then back to each other. Danny’s mouth is wide open in an ‘O’, and Jo squints at him. “What, Danny?”

She notices you staring at her, too. “Guys. What? Can’t you see I’m obviously in distress?”

“With that ring? You should be the happiest woman on the planet, Jo,” Danny replies.

“Ugh.” Jo sniffles aggressively. “I can’t be happy when Mom is being so...judgemental! I mean, can’t she just be happy for me?”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupt, hands up in a ‘slow down’ motion. “Who gave you that ring?”

Your sister looks at you like that’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard. Her face in this expression looks almost exactly like your mother’s, and it strikes a nerve deep down. “You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“Peter. From - “

“The guy from the coffee shop?” You’re completely surprised. Jo makes impulsive decisions, yes, but getting engaged to a guy she’s been on four dates with? That’s just plain reckless.

“Yes. He proposed last week.” She sniffles again, this time trying to seem at least a little more dignified. Chin high, she proclaims, “We’re in love.”

Danny sips his champagne, still completely caught off-guard. He has a small smile as he watches you say, “Jo, that’s fucking insane.”

Jo rolls her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re too young.”

Your brother laughs. “She’s only two years younger than you.”

“That’s two whole years of experience she doesn’t have.”

“You realize I’m not seventeen anymore, right, Jo? I’m an actual adult.”

“An adult with an actual job,” Danny points out.

“I have a job!” Your sister protests.

“What job? Oh, wait, you mean being a sugar baby, right? That’s your job?”

Jo glares at you. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

You shrug and drink some more champagne. “I’m being honest.”

“You’re being mean.” “Oh my god, Jo. You’re the one getting married to a guy you’ve known for two months.”

“We’re in love!”

“You can’t possibly be in love!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was talking to the expert of all things romantic! Please, O Great One, give me your opinion!”

You pressed your lips together tightly. “You’re not funny.”

“Oh, wait! I forgot,” Jo continues. “The Master of Love has a boyfriend.”

Your face heats up. You’d only told your mom you had a boyfriend so she would stop badgering you with questions about your love life. You hadn’t been thinking about the consequences, you’d just wanted to stop the questioning, and that had clearly backfired. “Mom told you that?”

Your sister smiles, seemingly satisfied with this secret knowledge. Danny, who’s been listening to the conversation with wide eyes, is grinning like a maniac behind his champagne flute.

“Yes,” Jo says. “So, where is he?”

Scrambling internally, you frown. “He’s busy.”

“Probably spending Christmas with his family,” Danny cuts in. That is surprising - usually he’ll let Jo beat you down, and then show support later. And anyway, he doesn’t even know you’re lying about the boyfriend. “They’re probably ten times less dysfunctional.”

At the last word, Jo switches gears completely, snapping her head to look at Danny. “We’re not dysfunctional,” she hisses.

Your brother laughs in her face. “Yes, we are.”

As they begin to argue, you take this as your chance to escape. You leave your champagne on the island - alcohol will only make this worse, and you want to be somewhat lucid for dinner. On the bright side, the less you drink now, the more you can drink later. You make your way down the hall, stopping to look at the photos framed on the walls in a remarkably perfect design. Every Christmas card photo meticulously arranged from oldest to newest, below the childhood pictures. There are a few of Jo, with her beautiful curls and pearly-white teeth, playing lacrosse. Everyone’s high school graduation photos. Lots of photos of Danny, the eldest and golden child. His first birthday, his eighteenth birthday, first day in college, first Christmas back home, various pictures of him and your parents. Any picture including your dad is small and inconspicuously placed, so as not to draw attention to it.

Scattered between pictures of your siblings are the ones of you. They’re all smaller; the only large one is your high school cap and gown picture. And the others aren’t of your accomplishments - they’re of you at home, smiling, with a book, or building a snowman with your dad in the backyard. Tucked below a picture of Danny and one of his ex-girlfriends (Sandy, your mother’s favorite) and above Jo’s first varsity photo is your favorite. Your dad took it when you were fourteen, on an old camera, one that used film, and had developed it himself. You had gone to visit him in Oregon, the only one who’d wanted to go, and as a surprise, he’d taken you to the beach. Your hair is wet and sticking to your face, and you’re making a silly face - lips puckered, eyes crossed, hands at either side of your face like fish gills. It’s a decade old, and the memory has faded a bit in your mind, but you can still remember the way he laughed at you when he took the photo. “That’ll be a good one,” he’d proclaimed. “I’ll send it to you.”

That’s how it was every summer since then. You went off to stay with him in Oregon, and Jo stayed at home with your mother. Danny, seven years older than Jo and nine older than you, wasn’t involved, at that point - he was just joining the bureau. Nobody had batted an eye when your dad didn’t show up to the party last month. Him and Danny had never quite gotten along.So you spend June through August with him at Gold Beach. Just the picture brings to mind memories from the cottage; the summer your dad grew a beard; him bringing you to the touristy area, to a struggling record shop to let you pick out your first album. You still had it, tucked away in an old box of vinyls in the back of your closet at home. The Chain, Fleetwood Mac.

There was something surprising about your mom keeping this picture. She hated that you spent your summers with him. It wasn’t uncommon for her to blame your personality as an adult on those vacations with your dad, as though he was the reason you were a journalist, and not that he’d simply loved you for who you were, and given you the love and affection you’d needed. So the picture here, that was confusing. In fact, you’d thought for years she’d thrown it out, because she talked so often about how deeply she wishes she’d fought for full custody in the divorce. Why would she keep the picture?

There’s no way she kept it as a reminder of him. She’d never voluntarily keep something like that around.

So then, why does she have it?

“Do you have to wear that horribly offensive sweater?”

And there she is, the devil herself, shrill as ever. You turn to the end of the hall and find your mother there, in her favorite cream-colored dress. Her hair was in a bun, and you knew without even being close to her that she had wasted an incredible amount of hairspray on keeping it in place. She’s wearing the pearl earrings and necklace set Danny gave her for her birthday last year, and on her wrist was a surprise - the white watch you’d gifted her.

“Hey to you too, Mom,” you greet, not dignifying the question with an answer. The best way to deal with her was to pretend you didn’t hear her little jabs.

“Honestly, Y/N, how do you expect us to have a peaceful dinner with my family when you’re wearing such blatantly tasteless clothing?” She approaches you and seems to be picking apart your appearance piece by piece. You expected no different. “Our family. And I know Leah and Mark will think it’s funny.” The only two cousins of thirteen that you can stand, Leah is Aunt Cindy’s only daughter, and Mark is her eldest son.

“What?” Genuine confusion etches itself into her features.

You raise an eyebrow. “Our family. I’m related to them, too.”

She snorts. “No, you take too much after Ryan’s family to be a Benson.” The mention of her last name, once her maiden name, presses a button for you. When they got divorced, Danny took your mom’s last name, and when Jo asked, she took her to city hall so she could change it back to Benson.You were the only child who kept your father’s last name.

“Technically, I’m half Benson, half L/N.”

“Mmm,” she hums noncommittally. “Sure. If that’s what you believe.”

You furrow your brows. “You gave birth to me.”

Smiling tightly, she says, “Babies have been switched at hospitals before.”

Completely taken aback, your jaw drops open, and she takes this chance to survey your teeth. “I see you’ve had dental work done since last month.”

You close your mouth tightly and frown. “Just a cleaning.”

She looks you up and down and once again offers nothing but a disingenuous “Sure.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before your mother inhales sharply and asks, “Has Jo told you yet?”

“About the engagement?”

“Yes.” She is gritting her teeth so hard you’re sure she’s going to crack a molar.

“Yeah.”

“And your opinion?”

You shrug. “I think it’s royally stupid, but it’s her decision.”

This seems to satisfy her, because she nods and, after looking you up and down once more and confirming that you are not going to change your outfit, she heads past you, her heels clicking forcibly against the hardwood.

You exhale audibly when she is gone, the tension in your chest and back releasing slowly. Conversations with her are so tense you can hardly breathe, she takes up so much air.

Raised voices echo down the hall from the kitchen. You look uncomfortably in the direction the chaos is coming from. Forcing yourself to walk towards the room, you find yourself standing quietly in the entryway to the kitchen.

Jo and your mother are going at it again. Your sister’s face is red and puffy, she’s clearly been crying the entire time. Danny is sitting down at the dining room table, pouring himself yet another glass. You sigh, and there’s only one thing that comes to mind as you watch this scene unfold, your mother talking loudly and sternly to Jo, who is yelling and sobbing.

God, you hate it here.

---

You’ve been banished (read: released) to the store, to pick up eggs. And milk. But only almond milk, the soy kind. You’re not sure that exists, but whatever. Any chance to escape your mother’s house is a chance you’ll take.

This grocery store has been standing since before you were born. Your parents went to it, their parents went to it, and even their parents went to it. O’Malley’s General is over five decades old, and even worse -

As you enter through the old wooden door, you peer around at the inside of the store. Fruit and veggies are still on your left, the over-the-counter pharmaceuticals to your right. No different from when you were five.

“Y/N!” The man sitting at one of the two checkout desks to your left offers you a wide grin.

- it’s a family business. When you were younger, it was run by Dennis O’Malley, a charmer in every sense of the word. You, Danny, and Jo used to make fun of your mother every time she blushed at one of Dennis’ not-quite-well-meaning flirts.In the time you’ve been gone, Dennis must’ve died, because his usual spot at the foremost checkout counter, his rickety metal stool, is occupied by his son, Ryan. He’s your age, and it appears he never grew into his big front teeth. You offer him a wave as he sets down his magazine and makes his way over to you.

“Hi, Ryan,” you say, picking up a basket from the stack near the door.

He takes a place next to you as you head for the small refrigerators at the back of the produce section, where you know the milk and eggs are. “How are you? Feels like I haven’t seen you in years!”

You laugh politely, smile stretching thin. “Yeah, it’s been a little bit. I’m good.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

The awkward quiet stretches on. You open the glass door and look for the milk your mom asked for, almond soy milk, you’re sure that isn’t real but nonetheless -

“You look just as pretty as when I last saw you,” Ryan compliments, and you feel your stomach turn at the words. Even in high school he’d been this way, interested in you, watching you from across the cafeteria and sticking notes to your locker in passing periods. He’s a little too close, you realize as you turn to him. You can feel his hot breath on your face, and instantly you smell that he didn’t brush his teeth this morning. Your flesh crawls as you meet his eyes. “Thanks,” you offer slowly. Your eyes dart to find a way around him as you say, “Ryan, you’re a little too close to me.”

He doesn’t make an effort to give you any space - in fact, quite the opposite. He steps his right foot forward, moving at nearly the pace of molasses, and you feel your adrenaline spike when he reaches his hand out to feel the cloth of your ugly sweater, his touch suddenly turning to a death grip on the cotton. “We’ve been this close before,” he murmurs, and you panic.

Your hands come up to his shoulders and shove him away as hard as you possibly can. You succeed in pushing him away, partly, but his right hand is still gripping your sweater, anchoring him to you. His quiet demeanor dissolves into something resembling hurt as he pulls you closer to him, grabbing your other shoulder with his free hand -

The front door squeaks open. Ryan, distracted, turns to look at the door. You take this moment to finally shove him off of you, running around him. There’s another man standing at the front door, eyes flicking back and forth from you and Ryan. When you move to get past him, he appears to regain his senses, following you out of the store.

“Wait! Are you okay?” He yells, and the sound of his voice stops you in your tracks.

You freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. There’s no way. There’s no way. You’re delusional. “Excuse me?” He asks again.

You turn slowly on your heels. He looks so concerned, his face contorted in the same way he used to frown when you’d fail a turn on the ice while practicing your routine. That worry, reminiscent of how he’d skate over and offer you a hand, pulling you up with a simple “Are you alright?”

You exhale, hard. There’s no sign of recognition on his face, no nostalgia, no recovered memories of an old friend. You’re having a freak coincidence right now, and the only other person who would understand has no idea who you are.

He walks over, his boots crunching rock salt as he surveys your face for wounds. “Can you hear me?”

Snap out of it.

You blink a couple times. Nod. Twice. “Yes, I’m sorry, yes, I’m okay.”

The friend smiles, but it’s confused, worried. “Do you need me to call 911, or…?”

“No,” you laugh. The noise catches both of you by surprise, but you can’t stop, dropping the basket, giggles shaking your body. The situation is a little comical, in all honesty - you’re stuck in your hometown with your dysfunctional family, you were practically just assaulted by someone who’s been in love with you since the eighth grade, and the boy you were once in love with doesn’t remember you. It’s like the plot of a Hallmark movie, if Hallmark movies were written by whoever writes Grey’s Anatomy.

You look up at him, and there’s that little chuckle of his, the one that lights up his whole face. He’s confused, yeah, but he’s got the right spirit. You clear your throat and extend your hand to him. “Thank you, really.”

He takes it gently. “Sure. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, definitely, thank you.” Releasing his hand, you pick up the basket from the ground. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m good.”

“Okay.” He’s still watching your face carefully. “You know what? Why don’t I accompany you home?”

Oh, no. No thank you. Not today. Not in my Hallmark movie.

“No thanks. I’ll be fine.”“Can I at least give you my number?”

You look at him incredulously. “Why?”

He shrugs. “So you can text me to make sure you got home okay.”

Your laugh is cold, abrupt. “Why would you care?”

“Because I just saw you get assaulted! Is it a crime to care about people?”

“No, but it’s weird to give your number to a stranger.”

“People do it all the time.”

“Oh, do they, really? Where?”

“Bars. Clubs. Parties.”

“We’re not in any of those places.”

He rolls his eyes with a smile, already whipping out his phone. “I’m Vince. Dunn.”

You laugh a little self-consciously. “Yeah, I know.”

Vince looks up from tapping his screen to raise his eyebrow at you. “You’re into hockey?”

“No. We went to school together.”

His eyes widen, first with shock. You see the initial confusion pass and become replaced by intense, sudden recognition. “Y/N?”

You grin broadly. “Long time no see.”

---

This absolutely wasn’t your fault.

You hadn’t ever expected him to go along with it, let alone offer himself up to help you. You’d merely been commiserating. Right, sharing your troubles with a friend.

Vince takes you to brunch the next day, a welcome reprieve from your family. Your mother protests, but you’re only half-listening to her while you watch the read 9:13 am appear below your most recent text to him.

vince

La Fontaine is way overpriced. Let me show you a place

You smile and type back, what? so you can get me alone?

vince

Is it really so bad to want to spend time alone with an old friend?

vince

We haven’t seen each other in years, there’s no way you know any good breakfast places here

you

you remember that i grew up here, right?

vince

Sorry, how long’s it been since you’ve been here?

you

touche

you

bastard

Vince

It’s within walking distance. I’ll meet you at Bailey’s at 10?

you

sounds like a plan

It’s good, to see him again. Your breath fogs the space in front of you, dissipating when you walk through it, your steps in perfect synchronization with Vince’s. He leads you down a back road that hadn’t existed when you were little and entertains you the whole walk with tales of his hockey shenanigans. You find yourself shocked that the Vince you knew as a child, the goofy kid that never quite fit in, is now a famous professional athlete. Time has changed him, too; he’s so mature now, with his good posture and manners. He holds the door open to a small diner off Quincy and Arlette, and you find yourself wondering if an alien kidnapped your childhood best friend and possessed his body.

When he starts talking is when you feel your heart begin to slip. The way he grins when he’s talking about his friends or his family or something stupid he’s done is breathtaking, his lips reaching his eyes. The way he throws his head back when he laughs, a deep, shaky noise, like if he’s too loud he’s going to break something.

So when he asks about your love life, you can’t help it. You open your mouth and words materialize on your lips without you even consciously forming them. You tell him everything, about your tragic love history and the way you felt when your mother asked snidely if you were going to bring a boy home for Christmas and the panic in your chest when you blurted “yes.”

And when your lip wobbles after you finish, he swears he can see tears beginning to prick at your eyes. Baby, he thinks - no, he feels the word in his heart, looking at you like this.It’s not your fault he offered himself up. He’s a grown man, he makes his own decisions, and he is the one who decided to pretend to be your boyfriend at Christmastime. In front of your family.

You’re just the one who’s going along with it.

---

“We should probably hold hands.”

The skin of his hands is rough, calloused, a sharp contrast to your soft touch. His palm feels so big against yours, the flat surface nearly dwarfing your whole hand, long fingers enclosed around yours. He bites his nails - you know from one glance at the chewed nubs of calcium.

“And hug,” he adds. “Couples hug.”

“Okay, fine, hugging, too.”

When his arms snake their way around your torso from behind, you become acutely aware of just how touch-starved you are. Every nerve ending is on fire, rocketing signals lightning-fast to your brain, adrenaline flooding your system. Your heartbeat quickens, and you know he feels it, the bastard, because your mother asks him what he’s smiling about, and he says “Nothing.”

You turn in his arms when she leaves, taking a step away from him. He looks mildly dismayed at the loss of your warmth but doesn’t comment on it. You lead the topic of conversation away from the hug.

“What about kissing?” Vince points out. “Couples kiss.”

Five.

That line has been ringing through his head all night. Every glimpse he catches of you, every tiny little look, makes the phrase rattle around his skull like a maraca of that one phrase.

When you catch his eye across the kitchen and make a funny face at him, a small gesture of togetherness in an atmosphere so cold and distancing.

“Couples kiss.”

Four.

When he rounds the corner to find the bathroom. You come around the opposite side at the same time and smack your face right against his chest, and when you pull back frantically you look up at Vince with a look of such pure apology he can’t help it.

“Couples kiss.”

Three.

You take his hand under the table at dinner. You don’t even really know why - it’s a strangely intimate gesture - but you see it through, your small hand resting gently on top of his.He flips his hand over so you can lace your fingers through his.

“Couples kiss.”

Two.

You huff, considering him.

“Only if it’s an absolute emergency.”

New Year’s isn’t an emergency, Vince knows. He knows New Year’s is actually the exact opposite of an emergency, nothing important, and if he could, he’d walk away. At least, he pretends he would.

But he can’t, because your siblings are egging him on, face-to-face with you.

“Couples kiss.”

“Only if it’s an absolute emergency.”

“An absolute emergency.”

“Couples kiss.”

“Emergency.”

“Only if it’s an absolute emergency.”

He knows New Year’s isn’t an emergency and he knows he could just brush Danny and Jo off but the light is framing you so perfectly, and the way you smile at him so earnestly - his brain is shaking like a pinball machine but he doesn’t have time to consider that so he kisses you.

One.

He kisses you.

Your lips are sweet against his. You taste like sugar, he notices.

And then you pull away and make an excuse to use the restroom again and while Jo and Danny screech congratulations and celebrations at him. The champagne glass in his hand feels empty, and the hand he had tangled in your hair only seconds ago feels like it’s burning.

Couples kiss.

---

When you press the hastily-wrapped present into his hands, you won’t meet his eyes. It’s days after that kiss, that goddamned mistake, and you’re so shaky you can barely keep it together. The sight of you in such an uncomfortable state in Vince’s presence hits him in the heart and causes a deep knot to settle in his stomach.

Idiot.

“I know we said no presents,”

“We’re not a couple,” you said. “You don’t have to get me anything.”

“But I think you deserve at least one. For putting up with my family.”

“What if I want to get you something? As friends?”

He offers his best normal smile. “You didn’t have to,” he says. A car horn blasts from somewhere near.

You scowled at him, but he just continued. “I can get presents for my friends.”

It’s ironic that he’s the one who asked to give presents but here you are, with a present, and here he is, empty-handed.

The silence is awkward.“Well,” you say. “Have a good trip.”

You’re turning to leave when his hand grips your upper arm, holding you in place. You move your gaze to meet his, and before you can say anything, he says,

“Hey.” His eyes are boring holes into yours. You feel goosebumps litter your skin when he says, “Happy New Year.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, and he lets you go.

He lets you go.

---

The box weighs heavy in his lap. The car moves with every bump in the road, and with each jolt he feels the cardboard corners, wrapped in patterns of reindeer faces and Santa’s smile, pressing into his legs. The sharp, quick pain is a constant reminder, and it makes him think of you. Even the wrapping paper is so stereotypically you, obviously something you grabbed from the back of your closet or (more likely) borrowed from a neighbor or classmate. He could see it now, the way you asked with a smile if they had any ugly wrapping paper, the confusion on their face as you lit up when they said, yeah, why? You delighted in the stupid pattern, so busy that he could barely focus on just one aspect. And you’d certainly picked a black Sharpie to write his name, knowing full well it’d easily be lost in the mottled colors and insane patterns. The way you wrote Vince, in that unique combination of print and cursive, like you couldn’t decide - again, so predictably you. He traces the big V with his index finger, picturing you in your apartment, on the floor, taking special care to write his name this way, on the top where he would at least have a chance of seeing it. Your hair falling into your face, hand gripping the pen and being oh-so-meticulous about the way you wrote it, his name, not wanting it to be too big, but not too small either. Just the right size to grab his attention.

Of course you would.

And you’d have known that he would hate to tear open the paper, to rip something with so much significance to him. He flips the box over and finds the taped-over seam. There has to be a way to undo this without ruining the wrapping, he knows, so he picks at the tape gently, taking care not to destroy the delicate paper. The taping is perfect, because you, obviously, couldn’t handle anything else. It spans the exact length of the box, no more, no less; you’ve always been a perfectionist.

He manages to unwrap the box with only one or two tiny tears and feels a tiny moment of pride immediately eclipsed by the desire to know what, exactly, you’ve given him for Christmas. He flips it over to find the top once more and does so successfully. The top flaps of cardboard are folded over each other without any tape, and he remembers begging you to teach him how to do this when you were kids, making presents for the teachers at your school. You never did.

He pulls one of the tabs and, like magic, the whole top undoes itself. Inside, there’s another small box with what he assumes are polaroids, two tiny boxes next to each other, a wrapped present in the shape of a book, all placed meticulously on shredded filler paper. Delicately taped on top of the book-shaped item is an envelope.

On the front, Vince, in your script. Of course.

Something about the box smells familiar, so he brings the envelope to his nose, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. The scent of your favorite perfume, the one you wear constantly, your lucky charm (as you’ve informed him several times), floods his senses, and he nearly cries at the nostalgia that fills his heart. His whole body aches with pain, begging him, make the Uber driver turn the car around, run back.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he opens the envelope carefully. Inside is a stack of papers folded together several times, small enough to fit the package. He can’t help but smile at the long, flowing script you use when you write on loose-leaf, when you’re feeling emotional. Again the way you write has his heartstrings tugging. He isn’t a crier, usually, but for you he makes an exception. For you tears gather in his eyes, threatening to break and bury him. For you he feels, feels so deeply and painfully he doesn’t know if he can manage to read more than Dear Vince because it might kill him, the aching in his heart and the begging in his hands. The memory of you is poised for destruction in his mind and he can’t help but wonder if you’d known this is what you could do to him, this was the power you held over his life.

Dear Vince, that fatal first line reads.

Dear Vince.

#vince dunn fic

56 notes · View notes

starrybethany · 4 years

Text

Maybe Someday - Matthew Tkachuk Imagine

Part 2

Word count: 4.5K

He’s kissing on my neck but it’s like I can’t feel it. I fake a moan, I close my eyes. He doesn’t realize that I close my eyes to imagine that he’s someone else. Like I always do.

His lips were always on mine. And when they weren’t, he was talking- talking about how his team is playing Brady’s next week or how Taryn is preparing for college or how his dad chirped him on the phone last night.

“Y/N, you’re hurting me,” he murmurs. My eyes snap open. This isn’t Matthew, it’s Curtis. Curtis from the bar- good Curtis, who scared off the douchebag who was hitting on me and carried a respectful conversation with me. That’s when I decided to go home and sleep with him. I release my grip on his hair and my knuckles turn from white to red.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“No, it’s okay,” he reassures, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Not really.”

Curtis looks surprised to see me, and I’m just as surprised as him, but I hide my shock better.

“Do you two know each other?” My manager asks, eyes sliding between me and the boy across from me.

“No,” I quickly say, eyes connecting to Curtis’ bowtie. Matthew would never wear a bowtie- he always said that ties were more professional, people took you more seriously. A fun suit, though. He liked to switch it up once and a while.

My boss doesn’t believe me but brushes it off, leaving me with Curtis to train him.

“Do you, uh, do you want to talk about the other night?” He coughs awkwardly.

“No.”

He stands dumbly beside me, watching as I organize the money drawer, quickly counting the bills and coins and making sure everything is there.

“Oh, um. Do you just want to put everything behind us then? Start new?” He questions.

“I don’t believe in starting new,” I admit strongly, tensing then relaxing when the next words leave my lips. “Even if I was the one to give off a shitty impression. I do, though, believe in growth and moving on. And if you’re willing to move on, I’m willing to move on.”

He nods quickly, eyes glimmering. Clearly, there’s still some interest there despite the fact that I made him feel like an awful partner in the bedroom. “I’m willing to move on.”

I wonder what Matthew would think if he knew I was doing this right now. Curtis leaves gentle kisses on my jaw and I try my best to focus on that, but I can’t help to think of Matthew’s face when he realized what I was doing.

Those pained green eyes haunt me in my sleep. I wake up every night in a sweat, wishing I would’ve focused all of my love and attention on him like he did for me.

I see the whitened fists from him clenching his hands so tight when I brush my teeth, and I remember his curly hair swaying as he shook his head while I pleaded for him to stay as I wash my dinner plate.

I’m sorry. Please stay, Matthew, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.

But how do you explain that you’re afraid to commit to the one person who would give up the entire world for you?

“Hey, uh, I think I’m bleeding.” My eyes snap to Curtis’ but he’s looking down at his arm, where my fingernails are digging deep into his skin.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” I mumble, nudging his body off of me and standing up.

I clean the marks for him.

“I’m outside,” I tell Curtis, staring up at his brick apartment.

It’s been two months since we started dating. I guess you could call it dating. I mean, we kiss and make out and talk and cuddle, but it doesn’t go much beyond that. Every time it starts to I think about Matthew.

Matthew’s breath on my lips, his fingers gliding over my soft skin, the words of worship leaving his mouth. Really, just anything about Matthew. I always feel like I’m thinking about him, and I know that I should get over it by now, since it’s been three months since he ended things with me, but I can’t.

Something’s holding me back. The feeling of losing the best thing that ever happened to me and forgetting that it ever happened is holding me back.

“I can’t stay long,” I remind him for the millionth time. Curtis pleaded with me to hang out tonight and I reluctantly gave in, wanting to get home in time to watch the entirety of the Flames vs. Blue Jackets game by myself.

My feet carry me up the brick stairs to my partner’s apartment and he’s waiting at the door for me, a bright smile on his face. He’s always smiling when he sees me.

Matthew would always give me a mischievous look that let me know he was up to no good. Then I would find a toy spider in my underwear drawer or my shoelaces would be pulled out of my running shoes.

“Oh, hello,” I greet the group of five people as Curtis welcomes me into his apartment. I was unaware that this would be a group event- Matthew would always ask me before inviting people over, even though we mainly hung over at his apartment.

My eyes move between the three guys and two ladies, my heart dropping as I recognize one of the girls. My heart beats faster and I pray to God that she doesn’t say anything.

“Hey, I know you, you were dating my neighbor, right?” She asks.

I nod wordlessly, afraid of what would happen if I were to open my mouth. I’m not sure if I would vomit or if I would vomit words.

“What happened? You two were so cute together.”

How do I tell this woman that I ruined it all? That I completely fucked up and Matthew will never forgive me, and you know what, no one can blame him.

“Just didn’t work out.”

They drop it but my brain doesn’t. My brain never forgets Matthew. I want to leave as soon as my plate was empty, but one of the guys turns on the Flames game and my mouth gets dry when I see that mouthguard hanging out of the side of his mouth.

I always used to tease him about that and he would just smile, telling me it’s a habit that he doesn’t want to fix.

Ruining my relationship with him is something I wish I could fix.

“I have to go.” My voice cracks and I hate it. Curtis looks concerned and his friends share glances, but I ignore it, hurrying to put my shoes and coat on and get out before I’m sobbing into the fabric of Curtis’ couch.

“Is something wrong?” He questions, resting a hand on my lower back.

I almost shudder at the contact.

“See you Monday.” His front door slams shut behind me and I hurry down the stairs to my car, tears streaming down my berry-colored cheeks as soon as I close the door.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Matthew deserves better than anything I could ever give him. That thought alone makes my chest heave and my vision starts to blacken as my breathing gets shallower. The realization of the situation hits me.

But I did this to myself. So I have to pay the consequences.

Once a cheater always a cheater.

I guess I never learn my lesson, right? I guess waking up tomorrow in this stranger’s bed with guilt filling me from head to toe isn’t enough torture, right? I need to live with that guilt and agony every time I see Curtis or hear Matthew’s name.

The liquor running through my veins thinks it’s a good idea.

It welcomes me to accept the fear that I’m holding. The fear of being connected to one person for the rest of my life, the fear that the person I decide to stay with may not actually be the one for me.

And is it bad that I feel worse for cheating on Matthew than I do for cheating on Curtis? I see a future with Matthew, not with Curtis.

My arms tangle around this stranger’s neck, allowing him to kiss softly down my throat. Matthew was always good at this. It somehow turned me on yet made me feel loved at the same time.

“My place or yours?” He breathes into my skin.

“Yours,” my eyes remain closed. I don’t want my home to be tinted from the memories of Matt.

He told me that his parents were coming to Calgary. They were coming to watch a game and spend the weekend with him and he wanted me to join them. He joked that I couldn’t say no because he already told them about me, but the look in his eye told me that he would respect it if I did say no.

I said yes. And I had the best weekend with Matt, Keith, and Chantal going to the Calgary Tower and the zoo and acting like a tourist in the city I’ve grown up in. We watched Matt’s game together and cheered at the win and during breaks in the play, Keith would give us updates on the Senators game against the Islanders.

Chantal told me about how much Brady likes playing for the Senators and how Taryn really wanted to come with, how she really wanted to meet me after how much Matt has talked about me, but she couldn’t leave school.

And I was on a high the whole week after their visit. I was so pleased that our relationship was going so well.

I could spend all of the time in the world with Matt without getting sick of him and I met his parents and hell, it seemed like everything was going in the right direction.

Then I went out to the bar with my friends. I gushed about my perfect hockey-player-boyfriend and our incredible relationship and they approached the situation with hesitance.

“Have you checked his phone lately? What do you mean he has a passcode, what is he trying to hide?”

“How do you know he doesn’t have girls in other cities when he leaves? He could easily hide it and you know his teammates would defend him.”

“He’d probably hold his salary over your head at the end of the day, Y/N. He’d use it as a way to control you.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting too serious with him right now? You’re so young.”

With shot after shot, glass of wine after a margarita, their words sunk under my skin. It cemented the doubts I already had, yet had forgotten about for the past week. Matt was in Anaheim at the time, they had a game the next morning, and I convinced myself that he was screwing another girl all throughout the night.

So I decided to do the same.

My fingernails dig into the side of the Styrofoam cup, causing a dent. I know what I need to do but that doesn’t make this any easier.

“Curtis, we need to end this. End this, thing, whatever we have,” I stutter through, running a hand through my hair. I hadn’t planned what I wanted to say in my head at all. I just know I needed to say it, needed to do something to become better.

To heal, to process.

He looks up from his phone, a shocked expression on his face. “What? Why?”

“It’s just, we need to, Curtis,” I insist. The chair scrapes against the dirty café tiles as I rise, rushing out the front door.

“Wait, talk to me, Y/N,” he pleads, catching up to me on the way to my car. He shuts the door as I begin to open it. “Just tell me, please. I can handle it.”

I turn around, tears already welling in my eyes. I shouldn’t be crying, I’m the one who did this to him. I’m the one who hurt him. “I cheated on you.”

I watch his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “Why?”

“I have so much pain inside-“”No,” he stops me sternly, “Why wasn’t I enough?”

“Because you’re not him!” I yell, exasperated. No one will ever be Matthew. And Matthew won’t even be the Matthew I had when he was mine. I broke his trust; I broke his belief in love and that’s the worst thing that you can do to someone.

“You’re not him,” I repeat in a raspy voice, letting the tears flow down my cheeks at the realization. I fuck everyone over. And I’m trying to do better, hell I’m telling Curtis instead of letting him find out like Matt did, but Curtis had to chase me to get me to do that.

For some reason, Curtis pulls me into his chest, taking the cup from my shaky hands and resting it on the hood of my car. My chest rises and falls with the loud thumping of my heart as I wind my arms around him, gripping him as tight as I can. I know it probably hurts.

But I have a feeling it can’t hurt more than the aching feeling in my chest, the longing for the love that I once had.

And I have no one to blame but myself.

I knew that he was suspicious. He was suspecting something. I could feel his eyes on me longer than he usually stared, his eyes would gaze at my phone whenever it would light up, he would ask me more and more questions every time I went out with my friends.

I told myself even before taking the first guy to bed that I would have two rules during my affairs. The first rule would be that we could never go back to my place.

Matt and I never moved in together. We planned on revisiting the topic after a year together. We would probably have moved in together in my apartment since he always said that it was more comfortable and he felt more at home than his apartment, but we never got to the one year. We were two months away.

The second rule would be that my new partner for the night had to use protection. I didn’t want to risk any STIs and even though I’m on birth control, any babies. I’m a horrible enough person, me raising a baby wouldn’t be fair for anyone.

Matt had gone to one of his teammate’s friends for a movie night. I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening. All I could think was ‘how pretty is this girl that he’s cheating on me with?’ I had called my friends and we got ready together in my apartment. I listened as they talked about their plans to get all of us laid tonight, and that includes you, Y/N. If your boyfriend is having fun, you can too.

Matt had found me in a gender-neutral bathroom that night, panties down to my ankles and dress pulled up to my belly button. The guy was buried inside of me. All of the desire and lust I had vanished when I saw his face.

Oh gosh. His face.

I dream about his face every night, the smiles, the funny faces, the laughs. But this face is in all of my nightmares.

Pain came first. Pain came in the form of tight lips and closed eyes. Hurt followed. His eyes widened and his lips went down. The bathroom door closed behind him.

I remember hurrying to push the guy away from me, bile and the alcohol I had drank rising in my throat as I pulled up my panties and yanked down my dress.

I caught him in the parking lot.

“He said so much to me, yet it’s etched into every corner of my brain. Y/N, I gave you everything I had. I gave you my heart, body, and soul. I was willing to put everything on the line for you. I saw a future with you and somehow, even though my heart is breaking into two, I still do. You met my friends- fuck- you met my family and none of that means anything to you, does it? I tried to disagree, but he wouldn’t hear me. I don’t blame him.” I pause the story to wipe a tear from my eye, ignoring the concerned looks from people wondering why I’m crying in this café. “He told me that I broke his heart and that he’ll never be able to love again. And that, clearly, we were over.”

Curtis watches as I stare at the table in shame. I don’t know what else to say. I haven’t tried to contact him at all. It seems disrespectful to him and his healing process.

“It’s been four months,” I grab a napkin to blow my nose, enjoying the burn of the harsh fabric on my skin. “And my friends tell me I shouldn’t still be heartbroken, he was probably cheating on me too, but I don’t know. I’m still in love with that man.”

“You remember his neighbor? The one that I’m friends with?” He speaks, pushing my story to the side. I nod, briefly remembering the girl from when I went to his apartment. “She says he’s much different now that you’ve ended things. He doesn’t leave his apartment except for work, he avoids eye contact with everyone in the hallways, and apparently he looks like he’s in rough shape.”

I bite my lip, processing his words. That’s not the Matt that I remember. Matt loved talking sports with the elderly man next door, he paid attention to his physique to remain in shape for the season, and if he wasn’t watching a movie at home, he was spending time with one of his friends.

Guilt bubbles in my chest. I fucked him up. And it did heavy damage. I bury my head in my hands, wanting to reverse the past seven months to take back what I did to him.

“How do I fix this?”

“You can’t,” Curtis responds quietly, watching as I take the information in. “But you can make it better.”

“How?”

“Talk to him. That’s what he needs.”

Hi Matthew,

I don’t even know how to start this. I’m sorry for writing this, I’m sorry for having to write this in the first place. And I’m sorry that I’m too much of a little bitch to tell you this myself. And I’m sorry if this brings up old shit that you’re trying to heal from or you’re already over everything and your new girlfriend is reading this over your shoulder going, “Oh, is this the slut you were telling me about?”

And I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m really, really sorry. No words can express how apologetic I am and how much I regret putting you through the pain that I put you through. You treated me like I walked on water. You bought me souvenirs from the cities that you played in and spent days off buried in bed with me, laughing over stupid TikToks.

I destroyed that for us. For you. And I am so sorry.

Love,

Y/N

I realize that I put love while folding the laundry two days after putting the letter in the mailbox. I freeze with the movement, blood running cold.

I mean, it’s true. I still do love him. But he doesn’t care, he hates me. That ‘love’ probably felt like a punch in the gut. I bet he feels like I never loved him because of what I did to him. How can you say you love someone and then turn around and completely betray them?

That night I dream of two kids, a mini him and a mini me, running around a kitchen. He’s standing beside me, an arm wrapped around my waist and a smile just as big as the one he had the day we first met.

Matthew texts me a couple days later. The few days that I waited I switched between nervously anticipating his response and never expecting it to come. He texts me at night, asking me to meet him for coffee the next morning.

I can’t sleep that night. A million and one thoughts run through my head. When did he unblock my number? It’s not like I tried to contact him after the breakup, but I almost did on multiple nights after one too many drinks.

How will he react when seeing me? Will it be like when he saw me for the first time, or will he immediately visualize some other dude inside of me? I can’t help but think of how he’ll look. I always liked his hair more grown out, so that’s how he left it a lot.

I wonder if he cut it, the length reminding him too much of me.

I get there twenty minutes early. I want him to know that this is important to me. That he’s important to me, as shitty as I may show it. I twirl the coffee cup in my hands, taking off the protective holder to let the hotness burn the palm of my hands.

I know it as soon as he enters. My eyes lift from the lid of my cup to meet his. He hasn’t changed a bit; he looks just the way that I remember. His scruff is longer than I ever remember it getting, but it looks nice.

It suits him.

He slides into the seat across from me, leaning back in the wire chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He stares at me with a blank expression, daring me to say the first word. I know he won’t- he shouldn’t have to, I’m the one who messed everything up.

“Um, did you want to get something? They have really good steamers here,” I begin, weakly motioning towards the order station.

He shakes his head silently, staring me down.

“Thank you for, uh, coming, and um, hearing me out,” I stutter through, practically shaking under his intense gaze.

“Why’d you do it?”

I knew the question would come. And he deserves to know the answer, too. It’s just- the reasons are stupid, beyond pathetic reasons. And if I tell him, he can never unhear it. And knowing Matt, I don’t know if he’ll feel comfortable living with this thought for the rest of his life. I take a deep breath. “Well, um, I guess it was to get back at you, really. My friends convinced me that you were cheating on me.”

He raises his eyebrows. “And you believed them? And cheated on me instead of talking to me about it?”

“It’s stupid, I know.” I bite my lip, brushing a stray hair out of my face. His eyes follow the action.

“How many times?”

I wince at the question. If he didn’t like the answer to the last question, he definitely won’t like the answer to this one. And even though I was the one who was doing it, I don’t like the answers either. “Three.”

“Three times?” I can feel the bite in his voice, and I sink down in my seat, ashamed and humiliated because of my actions. I can’t even make eye contact with him, but I can feel him practically burying me into the ground with his eyes. “With the same person or different people?”

“Different people,” my voice is barely over a whisper.

“I don’t know what would be better,” he retorts. I watch his arms drop to his sides in disbelief at the answer. “The fact that you would sleep with other men and then with me-“”I made them use condoms,” I quickly interrupt, cringing as soon as I do it.

I probably shouldn’t be interrupting him right now or trying to defend myself. I need to take this time to take responsibility for my actions and beg for forgiveness.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long were you cheating on me?” He demands.

“A month and a half,” I answer shyly.

“You cheated on me three times over a month and a half?” He confirms.

I nod, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. When he turns his head to the side, I can see the tears glistening his eyes over.

I’ve never seen Matthew cry. He never wanted to cry in front of me- I could cry in front of him at anything but he would never cry in front of me. When I asked him about it one time, he told me that it’s because he needs to be strong and be able to protect me.

I was supposed to do that too. Not by not crying, but by faithful and giving him all of my love. Instead, I’m bringing him to the point of tears by telling him all about my infidelity.

“Matthew, I know it doesn’t mean anything, but I’m sorry,” I breathe out.

“You could say that a hundred times and I still wouldn’t care,” he shakes his head.

Hurt flashes through my body at his words, but my brain forces me to understand. He doesn’t need to care about me anymore, I hurt him as bad as you can hurt a person. I should just be grateful enough that he’s still with me right now.

“Thank you for being the best boyfriend I could ever have. You did so much for me and I, I never appreciated it as much as I should have,” I speak slowly, knowing that we have a limited amount of time left. It’s clear by the way that he can’t even look at me right now that we aren’t meant to be with one another right now.

He wipes at the tears, blinking his eyes to get them to disappear. “You shouldn’t be the one to get the final word, I should.”

“Okay,” I nod. “Go ahead.”

“You really messed me up. You fucked me up for my next relationship,” he gives a watery chuckle, “But you also taught me a lot and we had a good ten months and four days together. Fuck what you did to me. That was awful. But the worst part is that I know you, and I know that you’ll grow from this experience and you’ll be even better for the next guy. I love you. Or, um, I loved you.”

It’s my turn to wipe the tears from my cheeks, biting my cheek to hold back the sob that wants to be released.

“Maybe someday, Matthew,” I give him a weak smile.

He knows what I mean. Even though he doesn’t smile back, I can he returns the emotion by the glimmer in his eye and the “Someday, Y/N” when he thinks I’m far enough away.

#NHL imagines #Matthew tkachuk imagine #Calgary flames imagine #hockey imagines #Matthew tkachuk x reader #bmsomeday

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Photo

richboy!seonghwa (part 28)

word count: 6k

angst

(part 27) (series masterlist)

you took the news of seonghwa's abroad opportunity as one would expect. with a sense of blame and guilt and overwhelming accountability. because you can't help but think that if you had never moved here in the first place, seonghwa wouldn't have considered it. he would've laughed in his dad's face at the prospect of going all the way to paris to end his senior year of high school.

yeosang informed you of the news the day after he found out, making you promise you wouldn't approach the boy or let him know that you knew. "he's telling the guys this weekend," he told you in the car, your hands intertwined as you stare at them sadly. "and he just told me to tell you, privately."

your eyes widen when you hear that, feeling a pang of hurt you know you don't deserve to feel in your chest. does that mean he doesn't even wanna say goodbye to you?

"w-when is he leaving?" you asked quietly, trying to contain the emotion in your voice. yeosang watches your lips tremble when he tells you next week, biting at your soft skin and squeaking out an "oh," that has his stomach sinking. because it's just a shitty situation all together, the both of you knowing you two have played a role in the boy moving away.

he told you how seonghwa had said his parents and family life had a big part to do with it, that he missed their company and wanted them to see him graduate high school. but the underlying sadness and tension that came from that dreadful night everything was revealed just gives everyone the sense that there's a little bit more to it.

"what?! is this because of yeosang and y/n?!" wooyoung boldly asked seonghwa over the weekend. he had gathered the loud mouth himself along with hongjoong and san to break the news, telling the three boys he wanted to talk to them about something.

"that's really the first thing you wanna ask, you idiot?" san whisper-yelled, smacking the boy upside the head.

"it's awfully suspicious timing, okay, he breaks down to y/n in a drunken stupor and-"

"wooyoung," seonghwa's deep voice says, his tone tight and serious but eyes dancing with the slightest bit of amusement; he could never genuinely be upset with the boy but fuck, does he never know when to shut his mouth. "thank you but shut the fuck up."

hongjoong snorts before he looks over the boy, asking him if that wasn't it, what were the other reasons? because leaving at this time seems like it had to have been something big. and seonghwa eventually told them the same thing he said to yeosang, about being lonely in his house and wanting to see his parents and thinking that a change in environment might be good for him overall.

"so it does have something to do with....everything that happened?" hongjoong asks lowly, not wanting to upset the boy but feeling something tight pulling in his gut; he hates to think that something as juvenile as that could've pushed the boy away. but he insists that there's more to it, that you, him and yeosang are on good terms and that he doesn't want any shit being talked to them when he leaves.

"we wouldn't do that," san assures quietly, liking you from the start but even more when you asked him to stay with seonghwa that night. it showed that you cared and were really looking out for him.

"yeah, no way," wooyoung agrees, doubtful looks from everyone being thrown his way. "what?!"

"anyway," hongjoong says with a smirk. "you'll need a going away party then, yeah?"

"this is it," seonghwa hums, gesturing to their four bodies in the living room. and after asking him one hundred times if he didn't wanna do anything more grand, before becoming a fancy european boy, they settled for pizza and video games and staying up until four o'clock in the morning the way they always did.

that next week of school, even given everything you'd been through, had been one of the hardest. because now, in a shocking turn of events, you were the one avoiding seonghwa. you kept your head down going to and from 4th period, kept your eyes trained on the board or notebook despite feeling his gaze on you at times; the one time he almost got you, you saved yourself with a tight-lipped smile and nod before awkwardly scurrying away.

"you're being a coward," mingi tells you at lunch that wednesday, watching your head snap back again at the sound of the library door opening.

you had told the boys of the newest seonghwa updates shortly after yeosang told you, both of them sad to hear seonghwa would be leaving; and bless their hearts, they hadn't even accused the reasons behind it on you. they wondered what could make seonghwa leave in the middle of his senior year, assuming his parents had something to do with it.

"according to yeosang, seonghwa said...we're a small part of the reason. but that he mostly wants to be with his parents and stuff." and whether the boys believed that or not, they'd never tell. but they would tell you that now, avoiding seonghwa before he leaves in three days, is-

"absolutely ridiculous, y/n, i have to agree," yunho says with a soft smile, blowing you a kiss when you pout at him.

"what am i even supposed to say?" you squeak, "happy travels, seonghwa! sorry my whoreish ways had to contribute to you moving all the way to france. but au revoir! enjoy the macaroons!" the blonde boy narrows his eyes at your self-deprecation, kicking you under the table harshly while the redhead shrugs his shoulder, lips quirked to the side almost like he's agreeing with everything you've just said.

"or maybe just like...thanks for being my first friend. hope to see you soon. good luck in a new country. if i don't talk to you, happy graduation. or maybe-"

"okay, i get it," you whine at yunho, knowing in your gut you're being stupid and annoying and very much like a coward, as mingi pointed out. but you know saying goodbye to him will absolutely end in tears and sorrow and you don't think he deserves to deal with anymore of that.

but he also doesn't deserve to start his new life with unresolved business. and maybe talking to him and saying a final goodbye could give you both the closure that you need. because through this all, you've realized just how much you pushed down your feelings for seonghwa. it doesn't take away or negate what you feel for yeosang, either, it's just something that you feel.

it's in the pit of your stomach and the center of your chest, how when you look at seonghwa you're reminded of how much he helped you. how he guided you and protected you and would've made you feel like you needed him to survive if you didn't have yeosang and the others to completely ground you.

these thoughts swirl through your mind for the rest of the week, friday night being one the worst. yeosang can tell you're distracted all night, eyes trained on the tv and food in front of you but just blankly staring. you smiled and laughed and kissed him but there wasn't your usual spark behind it.

your smile was dim and your laugh was forced and it was in the kiss he knew you weren't feeling right.

"baby, it's not your fault," he finally mumbled against your head, your cheek on his chest as you lay in between his legs. and stupidly enough, like this boy hasn't learned everything about you in these past seven months, you try to play dumb.

"what?" you mumble, not being able to see the way he rolls his eyes.

"you've been quiet tonight," he says, trying a different approach. but you only shrug your shoulders, nuzzling your face further into him as you inhale his scent. he places his lips on your head, humming against them and knowing exactly why you've been so out of it tonight.

because if seonghwa leaving wasn't enough, you refusing to talk to him was only making it worse. your boyfriend knows you want to, knows you're gonna need it to feel better about his departure and that you want to wish him well. he watched all week you become more and more tense and sad, the light in your eyes dimming every day.

"you didn't get a chance to talk to him, i'm assuming."

you only hum against his chest and it's taking everything in him not to be his harsh self and call you out on your shit. but he's allowing you to wallow tonight, for the next two minutes at least, because the news is hard for everyone. no one wants seonghwa to leave and live out the rest of his senior year with a group of strangers.

"did you plan too?"

you bite your lip so you don't snap at him to stop asking you so many questions, simply mumbling "i don't know," as you turn your head back to the tv. and with a hidden smirk, yeosang nods his head.

"hmmm. well he's leaving tonight."

"what?!" you squeak immediately, flying up from his chest to look at him with wide eyes. the amount of panic and regret that floods into your veins is almost all consuming. "i-i thought he was leaving tomorrow."

"parents changed his flight last minute," he tells you, "should've left an hour ago."

and then without much of a thought, tears start burning at the back of your eyes and you open your mouth but can't seem to find the words to come out. because you fucked up. you fucked everything up in the beginning and you fucked the ending up as well. you didn't get to thank him or see him or talk to him one last time.

"why didn't you tell me?" you ask him weakly, hoping the crack in your voice isn't as obvious to him as it is to your own ears.

"would it have mattered?" yeosang asks, "would you have gone and actually talked to him?" and with the sad look in your glossy eyes, teeth in your lip as regret and shame crosses your face, it appears you both know the answer.

you fall against his chest so he doesn't see your tear fall, his stomach knotting and heart sinking when he feels a wet spot on his shirt; now he feels bad.

"then how 'bout you go over to his house tomorrow, baby?" you hear him say, eyebrows narrowing at his suggestion; what use would that do? saying goodbye to an empty house would hardly help the pit in your stomach.

"why would i do that?" you sniffle against him.

he presses his lips into a firm line, bringing his hand up to run it through your hand gently like he's trying to lessen the blow of his next words. "because he'll be there. the flight wasn't changed."

you pull back to look at him again, the angry face you're wearing with tears in your eyes making him wanna laugh. because you look pissed but still so, so sad and he thinks maybe you'll find the humor in this one day.

"what is wrong with you!" you squeal, hitting him roughly in the chest before scooting over on the couch. "you're such an asshole sometimes!"

and because those are words that leave your mouth once a day, he scoots over and throws his arm around you. "but you felt pretty shitty thinking you didn't say goodbye to him, right?"

you shake your head as your eyes stay narrowed at your boyfriend, his eyebrow raised curiously only making your brows furrow more; because how is he always right? how does he always get you to crack?

(and once you're in the right frame of mind, you'll look back and be able to see how much your boyfriend had grown in only a few weeks. a blow out fight happening that almost had you breaking up, to him convincing you to go say goodbye to the boy he once felt so threatened by).

"you're mean," you eventually mumble, letting out an annoyed huff but leaning your head against him; it really did feel shitty thinking that. "you could've just told me to go see him tomorrow."

a tiny snort leaves his mouth as his lips quirk into a smirk, knowing yeah, he probably could've, but that making you see it yourself probably would've been more effective. "well yeah but when i told you not to see him, you went and did it anyway," he teases, pecking a kiss to the side of your head. "so you had to see for yourself anyway. cry baby."

you pinch at his sides roughly and mock his "cry baby," when he yelps out, pushing you on your back to tickle and really get you back. it's the first time your laugh tonight sounds genuine and for that he's grateful. because he really doesn't know how tomorrow's gonna go.

luna's tail smacking you in the face wakes you bright and early the next morning, a delicate meow followed by her purr successfully rousing you from sleep. you pad downstairs with her trailing behind, giving her food before stretching out your body as you watch her eat.

"did you really have to embarrass me like that!?" you exclaim to her, throwing her down the second you get in the house. "you know today is a big day for me, luna, i'm starting a new school with snobby rich kids and what do you do! you run out of the house and into the yard of the most beautiful man i've ever seen!"

and if cats could talk and make human like gestures, the look in her eyes just tells you she'd stick her tongue out at you and say "too bad!" she even looked proud of herself back there, wrapping her trail around the boy's pajama clad leg like he'd done something so special and unique to get her over to him.

"you're lucky i'll probably never see him again," you say, walking over and bending down to the cat's eye level. "because i don't know if my heart could handle it. did you see him!"

she meows at you in a way that makes you think she's actually responding, rendering you an official crazy cat lady who's first interaction with a person here was nothing short of a disaster. but then you realize her food bowl is empty and it's almost an hour past her normal breakfast time.

"oh, you're hungry?" you sarcastically whine to her. "maybe you should've asked that hot pajama model for some food." but then you realize the way you're babbling to your cat is gonna make you even more late for your first day of school, running around the kitchen before up the stairs to get ready. you slip your feet into your black flats, not realizing at the time just how much grief they'd give you throughout your high school career.

you shake your head from the memory, watching luna eat as you lean your head against the wall. your feelings that day were so strong and new, that sweet excited but nervous twinge in your chest that flutters around a boy you're convinced you love at first sight.

because when you see someone and they're so unbearably attractive, you think it's only natural to feel like that. but then once you learn how nice and caring and good they are, if they are, that feeling only gets stronger.

and that's exactly what happened to you.

so what happened then? when did everything change and when did you start straying away from seonghwa? because on paper, thinking back and laying everything out in the open, you really can't help but feel like it should've been him.

you push that feeling in the very back of your mind, knowing in your heart that you made the right choice. that you can't go say goodbye to seonghwa with these frazzled, rambled thoughts in your mind and risk blurting out something you know isn't fair.

his flight isn't until later tonight but your fingers start to itch to text him around 11, distracting yourself by doing homework and cleaning your room until all of the anxious energy is about to make you explode.

he answers your text after ten minutes with an apology, saying that he was in the shower and of course you could come see him. you borrow your moms car again and take the longest route possible to his house without getting lost. but it's not long enough because then you're sitting in front of his house and your heart is nearly about to burst out of your chest.

what are you gonna say? what are the odds you don't cry the second you see him? very low, you think, given your track record. but you're gonna try your hardest, nonetheless. goodbyes are hard though and you've always sucked at them.

so after a few deep breaths, you turn off your car and put on a brave face. you stand up on shaky legs and make your way up the stairs, looking up at the chandelier and smirking when you remember how confused you were to see one outside.

you knock on the door lightly and find yourself counting in your head, getting to 12 before you see him standing there; and just like always, he makes your heart stop. because he's just that handsome all the time, something as simple as his natural dark hair and a black sweatshirt looking exquisite on him.

"hi," you both say at the same time. awkward, choked out giggles follow and immediately the air is charged with an awkwardness. it's not tense or overwhelming but the hint of it is there. buzzing between the both of you with the knowing fact that there's a lot of things you have to say to each other.

but even with that fact, when you're sitting in his kitchen and he's over by the sink with his toiletries laid out, you find that words are caught in your throat.

"sorry about the mess, i still needed this shit so i'm rushing to pack it now."

"oh no," you giggle, looking at the expensive face washes and lotions and not all that surprised he has a skin care routine; you suppose you have to in order to look like these absurdly beautiful people. "it's okay."

he smiles softly at you, organizing them on the side when he asks if you wanna drink. you decline with a shake of the head, your quiet "no thank you," the only sound in the mansion.

neither of you know where to start or how to begin. he doesn't know exactly why you asked to come here, just that he was really happy and surprised to see your name on his phone screen. you don't know how to approach the topic, wondering if you should beat around the bush or just come right out and say it.

and after a few moments, you decide that you've wasted enough of this boy's time.

"so..." you hear your voice squeak, shaky and scratchy but at least you got the word out. "paris?" you look up when you hear seonghwa chuckle, smiling to himself as he continues to arrange his toiletries.

you and yeosang are similar in many ways. vulnerable and guarded but also extremely strong and blunt. it's what he admires in both of you, even though it's made him feel more inclined to protect and shield both of you. yeosang from his parents and you from...everyone, really.

"paris," he confirms before casually stating, "five thousand miles away, didn't know it was that far."

and for whatever reason, hearing it in those numbers makes your heart pang with hurt. how is it fair that he has to go thousands of miles away? away from his friends and classmates he's known his whole life while you get to stay here? you can't help the tears you knew would surface from stinging your eyes, the whole morning not being able to put off the sadness and anxiousness within you.

"but it'll be good. my dad's friend has a son named yeonjun and he seems pretty cool."

"oh..." you finally push out, wincing when you hear your voice starting to break already. "t-that's nice."

but it's not nice, it's so not nice. this is all so fucking weird and this is all your fault. he took you in, welcomed you into his life and friend group with open arms, defended you and helped you and proved time and time again he would've probably done anything for you.

but you did nothing for him, nothing but almost destroy a friendship and break him down to the point that he now has to go thousands of miles away. five thousand miles away with this yeonjun boy who's supposed to fill in for san and hongjoong and wooyoung and yeosang.

he looks up upon hearing your voice and his whole face drops when he sees you. because he's all too familiar with the look you get before you're about to cry, glossy eyes and trembling lips, and he hates that it's what he's seeing ten minutes into this conversation.

"why do you look like you're about to cry?" seonghwa asks, immediately moving his products aside. "i...hate seeing you cry, y/n." because he's lost count of how many times he's had to watch it happen.

"i'm sorry, seonghwa," you respond immediately, overwhelmed by how fast and hard the emotions are hitting you. but the talk of the distance and the new friends, it's quickly bringing all the reasons why this is fucking horrible to the surface. how thinking about all of this makes you want to ask him to stay. because you know things aren't gonna be the same for anyone. not for you or yeosang or the group as a whole.

"what are you sorry for?" seonghwa asks softly, eyes narrowed in confusion but also desperate to figure out what's gotten you so upset so quickly. and maybe it's because you knew from the second you walked in, the horribly selfish question was gonna leave your mouth and briefly make you hate yourself.

"i just-i shouldn't even ask this but-" your shaky breaths cut you off and you can tell even through your teary eyes that he's, both, genuinely confused and concerned.

"what?" he asks softly, moving around the sink and about to make his way over to you.

"i...do you have to go?" you squeak out quietly. and the second you say it, just like you knew you would, you know it's wrong.

his feet immediately stop, his sharp inhale going completely unheard due to the voice in your head screaming at you. he adverts his gaze to the floor, swallowing the lump in his throat. because of all the things he thought you were gonna say, it wasn't that. he was hoping that was the one thing you wouldn't say to him or ask.

"i..can't help but feel like.....this is all my fault. you helped me so much when i first started and were always there for me but...i don't want you to go." tears prick his eyes at seeing you so raw and honest, seeing you cry and ask him to stay but then not be with you. "you should still be here with everyone. with san and yeosang and hongjoong and wooyoung. you should be able to graduate with them and walk with them and have a big, expensive, stupid rich person party."

he's surprised to find himself letting out a short laugh, always impressed by your way to make him find something funny even when his heart is hurting. because that's always what he thought was gonna happen. he thought he was gonna have that very big, expensive, stupid rich person graduation party.

"it's so selfish, seonghwa," you say and he can hear the frustration and regret in your voice. "i really shouldn't even be saying this to you."

he allows the silence to linger before saying, the way he's clarified ten times this week, "that's not the only reason i'm going, y/n." because even though it's one of the reasons, yes, a slightly bigger reason than he's letting on to everyone, it's genuinely not the only one. "i could've been going regardless of any...circumstance."

you sniffle, wiping the tip of your nose with your sleeve and you hate that all of those words just poured out of you immediately. but it's like seeing him, talking to him so openly about it is bringing back every and any emotion you had during these past months. that you were both avoiding in the form of tight smiles and polite nods.

"i'm still sorry," you mumble out and he shakes his head at your apology

"it's okay," he says, a humorless laugh leaving his mouth because he can't believe you guys are really here, having this conversation. a silence stretches between you both for the next few moments, your sniffling and his fingers tapping on the counter anxiously as his body rocks slightly.

but then your next words, or the words you attempt, have him complete stiffening. because you knew the stupid, reckless thoughts you had when feeding your damn cat were gonna come back to haunt you. because on paper, thinking back and laying everything out in the open like how you are now, you really can't help but feel like it was gonna be-

"i-i just... i really thought...it seems like it should've been-"

you can't even get the last word out, lips trembling and voice breaking because everything about saying that is wrong. but the environment and feeling between you two is too much, knowing there's been so much left unsaid and that there's only a few hours left to get it all out.

it's why he doesn't think twice about walking over and wrapping his arms around you. and it's then that you lose your composure completely, slumping against him as tears leak from your eyes. your face is pressed into his shirt with a scent that seems so foreign invading your nose, something like a distant memory. something that brought you such comfort and warmth at one point, remembering the way you used to bask in this. but now it just feels like it's breaking your heart, reminding you of what you once could've had and wanted.

"it's okay," he mumbles against your head, his hand rubbing your back gently.

but it's not. he's not okay. he can tell in the way holding you like this is making him revert back to how things were before that movie night. how if you finished that sentence, he really wouldn't have been okay and all the progress he made in accepting your decision would be erased.

and that's why he has to go.

he's still not okay being around you, not okay seeing you with yeosang. not because it's his friend, it makes him happy he knows the man you're with and that you're in good hands; it's simply due to the fact it's not him. because he had pined and pictured it and also really thought it was gonna him, too, at one point.

"it's not, seonghwa," you cry against him, "this wasn't fair to you. we weren't fair to you and-"

"stop," he says softly against your head, letting his lips linger on you, his nose softly inhaling the scent of your hair, before he finally pulls back. he places his hands on your cheeks, wiping at your tears with the pads of his thumbs and you sharply inhale at the gentleness and familiarity; he's still so gentle and soft after all of this. "it's not about what's fair or unfair. stuff just...happened. and it all worked out the way it should."

"but you got hurt because of it," you whimper, "i hate that i hurt you, seonghwa."

"someone was gonna get hurt eventually, y/n," he says to you calmly, surely, because he's gone over this reasoning again and again these past few weeks as he contemplated everything. "and i'm glad it was me."

when you look up at him with a broken expression, like you think he's just saying this to make you feel better, he continues. "yeosang...needs someone like you. someone to tell him when he's being an asshole, which is more often than not."

he's happy to hear a short laugh leave your mouth, watching as you wipe at your wet face and he thinks, hopes, that the worst of this breakdown might be over.

"and he's good for you also," he adds quietly. "he always told me you were able to take care of yourself, that i never gave you the chance to."

you lick over your dry lips, tasting the salt from your tears and looking up at him. you can't remember the last time you guys were this close, just looking right into each other's eyes and seeing a flicker of every emotion in them. because it's so obvious right now that this is hard for both of you. but that it's also a necessary evil.

"and we probably wouldn't have worked anyway," he hums lowly, his eyes roaming your wet face.

that was the fact that probably took him the longest to deal with. because he thought his love for you was enough, the love that had such an unnatural abrupt start and only continued to escalate. "he brings out something different in you. i was always so desperate to help and protect you. but you're obviously more than capable of doing it for yourself."

you think over his words and find that perhaps he has a point. he did always save you and help you before you were able to build up the courage to snap and do it yourself. but of course you were gonna accept his help - who wouldn't? it made you feel cared for and doted on and loved.

"so you're saying you made me a damsel in distress?" you ask, humor managing to lace in your shaky tone.

he smirks at words, remembering all the times you two used that term. whether it was you knocking stuff down or getting stupidly bullied or getting lost in his backyard, it really had seemed as if that were the case.

"nah," he mumbles and his smile makes your pained heart lift. "but i liked saving you and you gave me a lot of opportunity."

another wet giggle leaves your mouth as you nod, wiping at your face before gathering the strength to look at him. your glossy eyes roam his face and his eyes could make you burst into tears again, soft and caring and maybe even a little sad himself. with a frown on his face, he lifts his hand to your cheek and rubs over the red skin softly.

"so we're okay, yeah?" seonghwa asks gently, an eyebrow quirked up. "no more ignoring each other? or...?" he mimics the tight, fake smile you guys have been throwing each other for month, a laugh bubbling out of your mouth that causes a real smile to spread on his face.

"please no," you say with a giggle, watching as his head falls from your face. "it's been so awful."

"yeosang kept calling me a pussy and i guess he's right," seonghwa says, narrowing his eyes when you bite your bottom lip to not laugh. "'cause moving my seat was a bit of bitch move."

"especially after you forced me to sit there!" you squeak, poking his chest lightly as you remember the way his deep voice demanded for you to sit in the back left corner. "and were soooo cryptic about your name."

a chuckle leaves his mouth as he shrugs, his soft eyes lit up with amusement before he makes his way over to the sink again. he insists that he had to keep up a cool image in front of the new girl, knowing full well his true self would show in a matter of days. you giggle as you watch him fumble with his toiletries, asking if he needs your help packing.

and thank god he accepted because what a mess his suitcase was. clothes thrown in and folded messily, soaps thrown in with his chargers as that thought of them exploding put you into a frenzy. he tells you the boys are coming over in an hour and asks you to stay, nodding at him with a smile before you two completely rearrange his suitcase.

the way you're talking and laughing now is how you wish you guys would've been these past few months. it's all so natural and easy, no hints of awkwardness or discomfort making you both weird around one another. maybe it's easier knowing you won't have to see each other again or knowing that you'll have some months to recover from everything.

but you hope that good things wait for him and that when he does come back, you'll be able to continue your friendship.

the boys come barreling through the door as you're sitting atop the suitcase, seonghwa pulling at the zipper and visibly stressed that you might fall over. "it's literally fine, just zip it!" you squeal, throwing your head back in laughter watching him tug with all his strength.

"i'm trying! it's harder than it looks!"

"oh my gosh, they're actually talking," wooyoung whispers to san.

"i know," san whispers back, feeling his heart lift at seeing you guys interacting so easily again.

"i think they would've been cute if it wasn't for-"

a smack on the back of his head causes a yelp to leave his mouth instead. "wasn't for who?" he hears yeosang ask, voice deep but filled with amusement. wooyoung turns to look at the boy, a guilty expression on his face the second he sees yeosang eye's narrowed sarcastically.

"well don't not finish the sentence on my account," he says when wooyoung just continues to stare guiltily.

"yay! we got it!" you squeal, clapping your hands before your head snaps toward the boys. you smile upon seeing them, waving happily and making sure seonghwa does in fact have it zipped before going over to say hi.

the six of you move into the living room, plopping down on the couch as you all enjoy the last few moments with seonghwa. they tell you about their first day of high school, what a complete and utter disaster it was because san and wooyoung had almost gotten kicked out before fourth period.

you text mingi and yunho to come over and say their goodbyes before he has to leave, the two boys barreling in twenty minutes later. you smirk at close their arms are pressed together, yeosang craning his neck so his mouth is right by your ear.

"they tell you they're together yet?"

"not yet," you say, watching mingi's tall frame wrap his arms around seonghwa; he had been his biggest supporter.

"wonder when they will," yeosang mumbles, pulling his head back to yelp "hi pretty boy!" across the room. yunho smirks seeing mingi's head snap up and turn into a sneer, throwing up a middle finger that the boy throws right back. "because it's so obvious they are."

the group gathered in the living room eventually travels out to the front, the feeling that everyone knew was coming hitting them the second they see the car pull up for seonghwa. you lean into yunho watching the boy's saying goodbye, san and wooyoung clinging to him tightly and whining. seonghwa looks like he's in pain as he stares at hongjoong and yeosang, the boy's shrugging and just telling the boy to endure it.

but when they don't let go, the two boys pry them off and give him a much less dramatic, parting hug. because while it fucking sucks, they're not overly concerned. they know they're still gonna talk to him everyday and that soon enough, they'll see him again.

yeosang turns to see your teary self leaning into yunho, walking over and placing his hand on your shoulder. "are you okay?" you ask him quietly, knowing that when he nods and looks at you, that he's not. but that's something for you to deal with when you get back to his house, for now taking a deep breath and walking over to seonghwa.

you can only look at him as more tears burn behind your eyes and he immediately shakes his head. "no more crying," he says, a frown on his face despite the amusement in his eyes. you let out a chuckle, nodding your head as you two share a gaze that says it all. that maybe under different circumstances, you would've loved each other the same way and the time after the ski trip could've gone completely different. that you're sorry for everything that happened but know it'll all be in the past soon, because you know the boy behind you is watching somehow came to be the one for you.

even with park seonghwa being a person who is as close to perfect as someone could be.

"make sure you keep yeosang in line, yeah?" he mumbles, looking at his friend who only rolls his eyes. and when you nod, he pulls you into one last hug that you immediately reciprocate. you rest your head on his chest as his arms wrap around your body, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your head before they brush your ear.

"he's gonna miss me, he told me himself. so if he cries, you gotta let me know, okay? i need something against him."

you giggle again at his teasing, smacking him on the back lightly before pulling back. "have a good trip," you tell him softly "and don't end up in anyone's backyard!"

a chuckle leaves his mouth as he shakes his head. "think that's only your thing."

you smile again, your eyes no longer teary as you look into his and it's something strange that calms him. that you guys have said goodbye and you're on good terms and that you walk back to yeosang who's still gonna have someone while he's gone.

and then with one last round of goodbyes, san and wooyoung being held back from attacking the boy again, seonghwa gets in the car and waves goodbye. tears pricks your eyes watching his friends look at the departing car, your stomach twisting in pain for them.

you smile sadly when hongjoong, san and wooyoung finally turn around, half expecting them to start reaming into you and blaming you. but they only walk toward you, yeosang and the two giant boys, all eight of you now standing outside of seonghwa's empty house. a house that holds a lot of memories for everyone that they hope, soon enough, they'll be back to.

"so..." san says, rocking back and forth on his feet at the sad, empty silence stretching between everyone. "now what?"

(part 29)

#luna is team seonghwa #thats all i gots 2 say #seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa series #ateez #ateez angst #ateez series

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hotpinkhoshi · 4 years

Text

the pact (4)

pairing: jinyoung x reader

genre: romance, smut, a lil angst

warnings: explicit sex, cursing, unprotected sex, dirty talk, spanking, orgasm denial

word count: 6.3k

summary: you desperately need to get over your decade-long crush on lim jaebeom, and your close friend jinyoung needs to get over his ex—so the two of you make an arrangement: just sex, no feelings. what could go wrong?

a/n: first of all i hope everyone had a great holiday and a happy new year 😘 i was verrrry busy which is why this update is a bit delayed. thank you guys for being patient with me while i get my shit together! i hope you enjoy this part because i loved writing it. also please check out the playlist i made for parts 1-4 right here :)

↳ index here

Jinyoung: Y/N Jinyoung: I need you to come over immediately Jinyoung: It’s an emergency

You: what?? what’s wrong??? You: …. You: this isn’t like a sex emergency right

Jinyoung: No. Please just come over.

“What’s wrong? What’s the emergency?” you asked urgently as you slipped inside of Jinyoung’s apartment.

Jinyoung welcomed you in, and the first thing you noticed was his casual attire—gray joggers, a hunter green hoodie, and a pair of wire rimmed glasses you hadn’t seen him wear since high school. It also looked like he’d just recently gotten out of the shower, judging by the damp locks of hair clinging to his temples.

Funny enough, your own outfit mirrored his. A gray sweatshirt and black joggers. After all, you had been halfway ready for bed by the time he texted you, even though it wasn’t really that late. It was Sunday night, you’d spent all weekend working and you weren’t ashamed to call it a night before ten o’clock.

“I have… two hours,” Jinyoung started, glancing at his watch and then back at you, “to pack for a week and a half in New York.”

You blinked at him. “You what?”

Jinyoung let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed your hand, tugging you back towards his bedroom. You nearly passed out from shock at the state of disarray that greeted you; suitcase wide open on the floor, piles of clothes everywhere, shampoo bottles laying around haphazardly. Never, in all the years you’d known him, had you seen his room anything but spotless—not even in that shitty third floor walk up he and Jackson lived in before they both got grown up jobs.

“Why does it look the toiletries aisle threw up all over your room, Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung, frazzled as you’d ever seen him, ruffled the back of his own hair harshly. “My boss called me an hour ago asking if I’d go to this convention because the girl that was meant to do it got mono. So now I’m flying to New York in four hours.”

Your eyes lit up as you smacked his chest excitedly. “That’s great!”

He’d mentioned the convention a few times in the last few weeks. He was excited about it, you knew that much, but that was when his responsibility was to organize the event from afar. In your opinion, it sounded like your personal heaven. Thousands of avid book readers came from all over the world, just to share their excitement over books. You couldn’t imagine anything better.

He groaned, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “It’s terrible. You know I hate unexpected surprises, Y/N. What if I screw it up?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not going to happen. They probably asked you to do it because they know you’re capable. You’re basically the head of your department, right?”

Jinyoung shrugged modestly. “I mean, yeah. I’ve been in charge of planning the entire thing for the last two months.”

“Exactly. So it’ll be fine—you worry far too much. Now, how can I help with… all of this?” You looked around at the chaos dispersed throughout his bedroom, not sure where to start.

Jinyoung took in a deep, calming breath, then pointed to the pile of clean clothes on the floor next to the suitcase. “If you can put those clothes in the packing cubes and get them into the suitcase—why are you laughing?”

You covered your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laugh as you sat in front of his pile of clothing. “Nothing. I just… of course you use packing cubes.”

Jinyoung pursed his lips—giving you his trademark unamused look. “Don’t make fun of me, I’m in a crisis.”

“You’re so dramatic. I swear.” You rolled your eyes at him, lips forming a smirk. “Stop scowling at me and get to packing, mister.”

Jinyoung mumbled something under his breath, which sounded a lot like not the boss of me, and they’re practical but you couldn’t be too sure. Still, he settled on his bed, picking out items from the massive pile of mini sized hair and skin products and stuffing them into a travel bag.

Comfortable silence filled the room as you two focused on your separate tasks, but you could practically hear Jinyoung’s racing thoughts from across the room. It was almost annoying how well you could read his emotions, which you chalked up to your many years of friendship.

But you knew he’d feel better once the daunting task of packing was done with, so you sorted his clothing as he asked. Once the cubes were full of his clothes, folded and organized into his suitcase, you stood from the floor and crawled onto the bed.

You perched on your knees behind him, leaning your chin onto his shoulder. He smelled nice, you noticed. Like fresh linen. “Are you done yet?”

He grunted, shaking his head as he tossed a bottle of face moisturizer into his bag with more force than necessary.

You hummed, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Can I interest you in a short distraction? Since you’ll be gone for… how long again?”

Jinyoung didn’t respond, just continued stuffing items into travel sized bags as if he didn’t hear you. You pouted, squeezing him tighter. His entire body was tense, from his shoulders down to his abs.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching for his hands to pull them into his lap. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?”

He just lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Just don’t want to screw it up,” he mumbled.

You sighed and shifted next to him, crawling into his lap to straddle his waist. Reaching for his chin, you lifted his eyes to yours. You would’ve had to be blind not to see how nervous he was about this.

“Hey,” you said again. “That’s not going to happen. Trust me. Remember that time, in college, we both wrote down the wrong date for our European Lit exam and we were completely blindsided when we walked into class? You passed with a 96. You’re great under pressure, Jinyoung. You’re smart, you work hard, and you’re quick on your feet.”

Jinyoung’s features, ever so slightly, softened as he listened to you. He knew you were right. You had seen him come out on top of so many stressful situations, and you knew this time was no different.

“What’d you get on that exam? I don’t think you ever told me.”

You cringed at the memory. The big, fat red marker the teacher had used to scribble your nearly failing grade across your test flashed in your mind. “65. Dad lectured me for about three hours about that one.”

“Ouch,” Jinyoung began, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. It seemed he was already feeling better. “Maybe I should have tutored you. I could have gotten you some extra credit…”

Though it was his attempt at trying to sound sexy, it just came off cheesy and you couldn’t help but snort. “You’re lucky you’re really good in bed, because your pillow talk leaves something to be desired.”

Jinyoung grinned, leaning in to nip at your neck. “Hmm,” he hummed against your skin, hands slipping up the back of your hoodie. “All I heard was really good in bed.”

“Mm,” you tilted your head, allowing him more space to kiss your neck. You didn’t even care about the marks he could leave. “Did I say that? I meant terrible in bed. Like, so bad.” You smiled at the laugh he pressed into your skin.

You shivered as he grazed his fingertips up and down your spine, goosebumps forming wherever he touched. No matter how many times he put his hands on you, it never stopped having such an effect on you.

The last month, after Bambam’s party, you’d set out three rules for yourself: no cuddling, no sleeping over, and no unnecessary kissing. So far, you’d held your ground. If Jinyoung noticed anything weird, he didn’t show it. Just nodded and walked you to the door each time you chose not to sleep over.

But the sex was still worth keeping your arrangement. Jinyoung had shown you a side of yourself you weren’t aware of until now, and you couldn’t deny he made you feel desirable in a way that was totally new. You had no hesitation telling him what you wanted or needed in order to feel good—unlike how you’d been in past relationships.

“So how about that distraction?” you whispered, threading your fingers through Jinyoung’s hair and pushing it away from his face.

He laughed again. “We don’t have time.”

You stuck your lip out, pulling back enough to look at him. “Yes we do. I’m not going to see you for almost two weeks, can’t I just… have something to remember you by?”

Jinyoung glanced at the clock on his wall, then back at you. The clock, then you again. “Alright, fine. You’re lucky you’re really good in bed.”

Your pout turned into a pleased grin. “I know.”

To shut you up, he reached for your sweatshirt to pull off, throwing the material to the floor. He cursed under his breath when he saw you were completely bare under your hoodie. “God. I swear you live to drive me insane.”

“Hmm, maybe, maybe not,” you said, as you slipped your hands back into his hair and gave the strands a firm tug.

“Fuck,” he started, hands squeezing your hips. “Want to come to New York with me? Just curl up in my suitcase?”

You laughed, hips rolling down against him almost instinctively, craving more contact. “Sounds uncomfortable.”

“Mm,” he shook his head and leaned in, kissing across your chest. “Don’t know how I’ll live without these.”

“By ‘these’ do you mean my boobs?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“You’re dumb,” you replied with a laugh, hands traveling down his torso until you could tug his sweatshirt off of him. “I’ll send you a picture every day, just so you don’t miss them too much.”

Jinyoung flipped you over onto your back, kicking his pile of toiletries out of the way and cringing at the sound of about a thousand lotion bottles falling to the floor. “You’re too good to me.”

“I know,” you responded, quick to remove his shirt as well, revealing the toned torso you never got sick of seeing. “You’re so lucky to have me.”

“Something like that,” he said as he looked down at you, eyes shining with desire. His hips were grinding into yours so perfectly, the bulge in his sweats pressing into your center just right.

Your eyes fell shut as you groaned, only encouraging him to push into you with more force. He could bring you to the edge just like this, and you made a mental note to test that theory someday. Tonight, though, you wanted him inside of you.

Jinyoung leaned down, closing his mouth around one of your nipples and rolling his tongue over the hardened peak, over and over. You arched into him, wanting more. In a matter of minutes, he’d already reduced you to a pliant mess underneath of him.

His mouth traveled downwards and more bottles were knocked to the floor, though you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You’d clean up the mess later. He sucked a hickey into your hip as he pulled off your joggers, making you shiver when the cold air hit your skin.

“The snowmen underwear,” Jinyoung mused, a smirk on his lips. You’d forgotten you had grabbed those from your drawer today--the same pair you’d worn the first night you slept together. At this point, you’d given up trying to always be wearing sexy underwear when you’d see Jinyoung. He truly did not care what you had under your clothes, as he reminded you so many times.

“Shut up,” you told him, squirming your hips as he stared up at you.

“They’re cute,” he said, just as he did that first night. “I might rip them off you, though. Wanna fuck you so bad.” He leaned down, licking right up the line of your covered slit.

You bit back a moan and gripped the sheets underneath of you, already feeling restless with need.

“It’s a shame we’re tight on time,” he muttered, nose nudging against your clit. “I’d love to spend the whole night between your thighs. Just tasting you, making you crazy…”

You wouldn’t have minded that at all. Jinyoung was a perfectionist, and it was never more apparent than when he had his mouth on you, determined to make you feel good. It was an experience, every single time.

When he finally pulled your underwear off, he glanced up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Your panties dangled off his index finger. “Want to give me something to remember you by?”

You stared down at him, skeptical. “Yes…?”

Jinyoung sat up on his knees, balling up your underwear and tossing it into his opened suitcase. You gaped up at him, reaching to hit his arm. “Jinyoung! You can’t steal my underwear!”

He laughed, leaning back down to hover over you. “I didn’t steal them. You said yes. Come on, please?”

“You’re so weird,” you told him, relenting. As shocked as you were, you couldn’t deny that it was hot, him wanting to take your panties along across the world just to remember you by. Whatever that meant.

“Shh, tight on time, remember?” he dipped down to kiss you, smiling against your lips and causing you to do the same.

Your hands roamed his body, trying to memorize the lines and curves of his skin just so that you wouldn’t forget. It would be the longest you’d gone without seeing Jinyoung since you started sleeping together two months ago. At this point, you knew his body better than your own. You were going to miss it.

“Hey,” you spoke against his lips, pulling away to push his hair away from his eyes. “This is the first time you’ve fucked me with glasses on.”

“And?” he asked, thick brows pushed together.

You shrugged. “And I think you look hot. You’re like my sexy, visually impaired teacher.”

Jinyoung’s eyes narrowed slightly just before he rolled them. “Oh, I see, you think you’re special because you have perfect vision.”

You grinned up at him. “At least I said you were sexy.”

He grumbled, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip. “Careful, or you’ll get detention.”

You stifled a laugh, which further annoyed him. “Sorry. Not funny.”

Jinyoung hated to be teased, and you knew it, but you couldn’t help getting a kick out of it. You loved that grumpy, unamused frown he threw at you whenever you challenged him.

“Turn over.”

You raised your brows, smile dropping from your lips. Oh. He looked down at you, eyes darkening with that familiar lustful glare. Your breath hitched in your chest as you flipped over onto your stomach, laying sideways on the bed with your ankles dangling off one end.

When you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, he pressed down onto your shoulders with a light pressure to keep you down. “Face down.”

A tingle spread down your body, right to your core. What had started as a playful joke was quickly turning into something more, something you’d only fantasized about late at night when you were alone.

Jinyoung sat on his knees, straddling your thighs, his weight just barely resting on you. Your heart was pounding in anticipation. His fingertips grazed down your back, starting between your shoulder blades until he was brushing against the curve of your lower back.

“I thought we didn’t have much time?” you asked, turning your head to look back at him with one cheek pressed into his blankets.

He glared down at you. “Every time you talk back to me, that’s one.”

You gulped. “One what?”

He barely hesitated before his hand came down against the center of your ass cheek. You whimpered, pressing your face into the blankets. The sting only lasted for a moment before you felt a pulse of pleasure low in your stomach.

“Now,” Jinyoung started, his hand massaging the area where he’d just smacked. You took a deep breath in, desperately trying to keep your hips from squirming. “Are you going to be good for me?”

You nodded vigorously, stealing a glance behind you. The look on his face reminded you of how he’d looked after Bambam’s party, demanding you to touch yourself. A look you’d thought about many, many times since.

He shocked you when he smacked your ass again, your back arching involuntarily. “Use your words, angel.”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good.”

You were certain if his hand drifted down the few inches away from your ass to your entrance, he would feel just how wet he’d made you already.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I believe you. You don’t always listen. Always trying to make it difficult for me, aren’t you?”

You shook your head. “N-no. I wanna be good for you, Jinyoung.”

His tongue ran over his bottom lip slowly, giving you that familiar predatory gaze. “You’re gonna have to prove it to me.” His hands were massaging your ass again, stopping to squeeze the soft flesh every now and then.

“How?” You asked, fear and arousal blooming in your chest. You knew whatever he had in store for you wouldn’t be easy.

Jinyoung trailed his right hand up your back again, pushing your hair aside so that you could see him without any obstruction. “Don’t come. No matter what.”

Again, you swallowed hard. You wouldn’t be good at this game and you both knew it. He got you so hot so fast that you could never hold back, which wasn’t usually a problem, until now.

His hand traveled down your back, fingers grazing over the curve of your ass until they slipped down to your entrance. You watched his face, enthralled, as he gathered the wetness that had already dripped out of you and brought it to his lips to taste. You moaned.

Jinyoung looked down at you, smirking. “Oh, that’s not a good sign. I barely even touched you. Try to control yourself, okay, baby? You can do it.”

You bit down onto your lip again, nodding at him as you slid your hands up underneath of your head, gripping his blankets. “Okay.”

When he finally slipped his fingers inside of you, your eyes fell shut. Only two fingers and you could tell you were squeezing around him, your current position doing nothing to give him easier access.

He began a slow, torturous pace inside of you with his two fingers, scissoring them inside of you every few thrusts. You were whining and moaning into the blankets, your fingernails digging into the fabric.

“So fucking tight. I wish you could see what I’m seeing right now—it’s heavenly.”

You pressed your forehead into the blankets, teeth pressed hard into your lower lip as he twisted his fingers, turning his hand so that his thumb could massage your clit. You couldn’t help rolling your hips towards his fingers, wanting him deeper inside.

“Jinyoung, please...” you whispered.

“Hm? What was that?” he asked, squeezing your ass with his free hand. “You want more?”

You opened your eyes to look back at him again and nodded. “Please.”

The sight of him was enough to have your walls clenching on his fingers again. Eyebrows knitted together, completely focused on fucking into you with the perfect pace. The glasses were really just an added bonus.

With no warning, he slipped a third finger inside of you.

“Fuck,” you groaned loudly, arching your back and fighting to spread your legs, even though they were caged in by Jinyoung’s thighs.

This earned you another smack, followed by a gentle caress.

“You’re not controlling yourself very well, are you, angel?”

You fought back a sob and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry, I just-” you couldn’t finish your sentence, because Jinyoung had curled his fingers inside of you on his next thrust, pressing into your g-spot.

Then he did it again. And again.

You had never tried for anything as hard as you were now, desperately trying to keep your orgasm at bay. Heat spread through your entire body but you fought it, even though it made tears form in the corners of your eyes, even though it felt like you were about to explode.

Jinyoung was receptive, he knew your body well enough that he knew just how close you were and how much effort you were putting into denying your body what it wanted so badly.

He finally withdrew his fingers from you, but not without another harsh spank. His hands immediately soothed your skin, gently massaging your flesh as he leaned down over your back, kissing the spot between your shoulder blades.

“Such a good girl. You did so good.”

You melted under his touch as your orgasm retreated. It had been so close, you wouldn’t have lasted much longer if he’d continued. Your skin burned where his hand had made contact and you knew it would hurt to sit tomorrow.

“Want to stay like this, baby? Looks like it hurts.”

You nodded with a pout, unfolding your arms from under your chest and stretching them above your head, relieving some of the tension from clenching the sheets in your fists.

Jinyoung didn’t waste much time, pushing his sweatpants and underwear to his thighs. He looked hard as a rock, and you cursed the fact that you didn’t have enough time to give him a goodbye blowjob. The sight practically had your mouth watering.

Then he was scooting up your legs, until the head of his cock nudged in between your thighs. He slid between your flesh a few times easily, as your skin was covered with the juices that had dripped out of you.

You both let out satisfied moans once he slid inside your heat, already wet and beyond ready for him as you always were.

Jinyoung leaned over you, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of your shoulders. With the rest of his weight resting on his knees, he rolled his hips towards you, pushing his length inside of you to the hilt.

“Oh my God,” you moaned. It felt new, this depth that he’d reached inside of you. You leaned up on your forearms to arch yourself to a better angle, hips lifting up slightly.

You were grateful he wasn’t gentle with you, you couldn’t handle that right now. You needed him, quick and deep, and that’s exactly the pace he began inside of you. The only sound in the room was his skin slapping yours and the desperate, throaty moans and pleas for more, more, more.

Jinyoung ducked his head down to press kisses to your shoulder. It was the affection you needed, suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that he was leaving you. Only for a week and a half, but at the moment you couldn’t imagine living without him inside of you for one minute. That was how crazy he made you.

“Jinyoung,” you begged, bending onto your elbow so that you could grip a hold of his arm next to you. Your name fell from his lips in response, over and over. You craned your neck to find his lips for a messy kiss, somewhat awkward from the angle, but it brought you even closer to the edge.

“Close?” he asked against your lips before pulling away to press kisses against your jaw. You nodded, squeezing his arm tightly until your fingernails dug into his skin.

Your nerves were on fire as the familiar tension built inside of you, beginning at your rib cage until it spread lower and lower. Jinyoung lowered onto his elbows until his front was pressed to your back, his hips never slowing or relenting.

“Gonna come,” Jinyoung said with a groan, digging his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder, the sharp pain sending a wave of electricity right to your clit.

As the tension in your body snapped, you finally allowed yourself to tip over the edge, made more intense by the sensation of Jinyoung reaching his orgasm as well. Your thighs shook as you took every drop from him, letting him fill you. Your own climax hit you like a ton of bricks, fast and hard, your body quivering underneath of him in waves.

Your body fell limp under his as you finally relaxed, absolutely exhausted from your orgasm. Jinyoung panted behind you, his lips still kissing your skin and whispering how good you were for him, how you fit him perfectly. You wished you weren’t in a daze, or you would have been able to focus on the husky, fucked out tone of his voice.

Finally, he rolled off to the side, pulling his sweatpants back up over his hips. You were too worn out to move yet, so you just laid there on your stomach while you heard Jinyoung get up for a washcloth. He was always quick to clean you up and you were eternally grateful, especially now. You were pretty sure he’d just taken years off of your life.

You let him move you however he needed in order to clean you up, and as Jinyoung tossed the washcloth to the side, he stared down at you with raised brows.

“You okay?” he asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Mm,” you replied, arms unwinding from underneath yourself again to stretch them out, wiggling your fingers. “You just fucked the life out of me. Officially.”

Jinyoung chuckled, a hand caressing your back as he laid on his side next to you. “Do you think it was the glasses?” he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You opened your eyes to look at him, your lips spreading into a grin. “Probably.”

Even though you had a no cuddling rule, and a no unnecessary kissing rule, you didn’t fight it when Jinyoung brought you into his arms and melted your lips together.

You blamed it on your exhausted state.

~~~

“Forrest Gump! Forrest Gump!” Sana whisper-shouted, slapping her pencil down on the restaurant table. “Why isn’t anyone listening to me?!”

“Because you’re wrong,” Yugyeom replied. “It’s Shawshank Redemption.”

You sat between Bambam and Jackson in the crowded diner booth as Sana and Yugyeom argued across from you. This was how it’d gone all night. It had been Yugyeom’s bright idea to participate in a trivia night instead of your usual movie night for the month and you were quickly regretting it.

Jinyoung hated trivia games and never wanted to go when it was suggested, which you suspected was because he hated being wrong. Now that he was away on business, you’d decided to give it a try. It had been a mistake.

Yugyeom was, apparently, fiercely competitive, which would have been okay if Sana wasn’t exactly the same way. You wanted to win, sure, but your two friends were starting to get out of hand with their arguing and butting heads.

“Okay, okay,” you said, trying to get them to simmer down. People had been staring at you all night, clearly bothered by the constant bickering. “Someone just write down an answer because he’s coming around to get our sheets!”

Yugyeom snatched the pencil from Sana, scribbling down his favored answer just in time for the host to collect your papers. It was the last round, and you had been in first place the last time they’d checked scores.

“I hope you’re happy,” Sana sneered, crossing her arms.

“Oh my God, stop,” you told her, slapping her arm lightly. “It’s just a game! And here we thought Jinyoung would be the problem.”

The familiar fluttering bloomed in your heart as you spoke his name, which you did your best to shove down just as you had for the last five days since Jinyoung had been gone. You tried to convince yourself your body missed him, not you specifically.

You pulled out your phone as soon as the host announced you were free to do so, scrolling through your texts until you found your message with Jinyoung. You’d been talking a lot this last week. The convention was this weekend, and in New York it was about time for him to be waking up to get ready.

You: so… we decided to go to trivia tonight You: it’s a blood bath in here

Jinyoung: Ugh. Trivia.

You: yeah yeah. good morning, by the way :)

Jinyoung: Good morning. How was your day?

You: good. busy, but in a good way You: are you excited for today??

Jinyoung: Excited? No. Prepared? Also no. But I’m ready to just get on with it already.

You: it’s gonna be so much fun!!! you get to talk about books all day!!!!!

Jinyoung: Ugh. It’s way too early in my day for all those exclamation points

You: soooo dramaticcccccccc

Jinyoung: Hey, be nice to me, I’m nervous

You: okay okay. you’re going to do great today you know

Jinyoung: I’ll do my best.

You: shhh. it’ll be great. i’ll stay up late tonight in case you need to call me.

Jinyoung: Good. I miss you.

“Why are you making that face?” Sana asked, snapping you out of your text trance.

Your head shot up and you looked around with wide eyes. You’d literally forgotten where you were in the last five minutes.

“Huh? What face?”

“Are you… blushing?” Sana replied. “Who are you texting?! It better not be-”

“It’s not Jaebeom!” you said, defensively.

You hadn’t even talked to him since Bambam’s party when you’d left him on the dance floor. You still felt guilty, but couldn’t bring yourself to reach out to him and open that can of worms.

“Who is it?”

You brought your phone to your chest, hiding the screen from your friends. Yugyeom looked confused, Bambam looked mildly amused, and Jackson was eating cheese fries. It truly summed up your friendship.

“No one.”

A look of hurt flashed in Sana’s eyes. “Why won’t you tell me who it is?”

You deflated a bit. It had been difficult in more ways than one having to keep your arrangement with Jinyoung a secret from Sana and the rest of your friends. You hated lying, period, but especially to your best friend.

“Because it’s…” you looked around at the rest of the table, then down at your phone. “It’s not, like… a real thing.”

“She’s texting Jinyoung!”

Your head whipped in Jackson’s direction. He had blurted the words out like word vomit, and now looked as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders.

“Were you looking at my phone?!” you asked, feeling somewhat violated.

“No!” he replied. “I’ve known for…” his eyes looked upward as he counted on his fingers. “Six weeks.”

“Six weeks?! You’ve been dating Jinyoung for six weeks?” Sana asked, her jaw practically dropping to the table.

You cleared your throat. “Two months. And we’re not dating! We’re just having sex.”

Sana stared blankly at you, not even noticing when the trivia hosts began going over the correct answers. “I knew you were seeing someone, I just thought it was Jaebeom. What… how…?”

“Wait, when did you find out?” you asked Jackson.

“Well…” he looked down, heaving a deep breath. “At Bambam’s party, he chewed me out in the bathroom for dancing with you and being, you know, touchy. I feared for my life, but also figured something had to be going on for him to get jealous like that. I asked him the next day and he spilled everything.”

You had no idea he’d gotten angry with Jackson. If anything, you’d assumed all his anger had been directed at you. And, besides, you’d settled it later on at his apartment.

“Hold on,” Yugyeom cut in. “You’re not dating Jinyoung, you’re just sleeping together? Like… friends with benefits?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. We were both lonely and trying to get over feelings for other people, so we figured…”

Sana was rubbing her temples, clearly having a tough time coming to terms with this revelation. “Just sleeping together?”

“Yeah. Why is that so hard to believe? People do it all the time.”

“Uh, no. I don’t know anyone that started sleeping with their friend of ten years so they can get over their crush, also of ten years. This is possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

You furrowed your eyebrows together. “Okay, it’s really not that bad. It’s casual, we're just having fun.”

“Are you telling her that or yourself?” Jackson interrupted.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You held your hands up. “This is exactly why we didn’t tell anyone. We knew you’d all be judgmental and worry that I’m going to get hurt-“

“Maybe you aren’t the one we’re worried about!”

The entire table fell silent, all eyes on Sana. Including the trivia host, who’d just announced that the correct answer to the last question had been Forrest Gump.

When the chatter started to pick up again and another team was crowned the winner, you shook your head, confused.

“What do you mean? Why would you be worried about Jinyoung?”

You looked around at your friends, but nobody would meet your eyes. Jackson looked especially tortured, clearly conflicted with his loyalty to you and Jinyoung separately.

Finally, Sana sighed, relaxing back into her seat. “A few years ago, when you had gone home for your mom’s birthday, we all went out one night. The four of us, Jinyoung, and Yeri. Those two started bickering about an hour in, and Yeri ended up leaving. So Jinyoung got absolutely hammered, and we went to some shady pizza place to sober up. Before we even got our pizza, he told us how he’d liked you since middle school, but was ready to finally give up because you were obsessed with Jaebeom and you’d never see him that way. He vowed to get over you if it was the last thing he did.”

You could only blink at your friend. It all sounded… not right. How could he have liked you without your knowledge? When had he stopped liking you? It made no sense.

“But he was with Yeri then,” was all you could say.

“Yes, he was,” Jackson replied. “And he’d been texting you all night before she got pissed off and left.”

It had never, not even once, occurred to you that Jinyoung had feelings for you. Certainly not before you started having sex. You’d been friends, and he had never crossed any lines with you, even after he and Yeri broke up.

“I don’t…” you shook your head, staring down at Jinyoung’s last message.

I miss you.

“Listen, I don’t know when he stopped liking you, but this just… doesn’t seem like a good idea.” Sana reached for your hand across the table and gave it a squeeze. “Is it worth risking your friendship?”

The question had entered your mind more times than you could count in the last two months. But after a while, you’d just gotten used to it. You liked the bubble you lived in, where you could just enjoy the present without worrying about the consequences.

Your heart felt like it was going to drop into your stomach.

“If it helps,” Bambam said, placing a comforting hand on your wrist. “I was blacked out that night and had no fucking clue until just now.”

It didn’t help. You just shook your head again, reaching down between your feet for your purse. “I need to go. Sorry. I just need…”

You never finished your sentence. Jackson let you out of the booth and you rushed out of the diner, greeted by the warm summer air. You placed your hand between your ribs, willing your heart to slow its pounding.

So, he’d liked you. For a while. At least until a few years ago—while he was with Yeri. Why hadn’t he ever said anything?

Would it have mattered? You had tunnel vision for Jaebeom until this whole arrangement had begun, and you’d never seen Jinyoung in that way before that first night. You knew yourself, you would have let him down easy and continued chasing after Jaebeom.

You started to walk in the direction of your apartment. It was a long walk, but it was doable. You needed the time to clear your head.

More puzzle pieces started to fall into place the more you thought about it.

He and Jaebeom had been so close, like brothers, until you graduated high school. Then Jinyoung started getting a sour look whenever you asked about the other boy and you learned to avoid the topic.

Yeri had never liked you. It hurt your feelings the entire span of their relationship, because you couldn’t figure out why. If she knew how Jinyoung felt, or even suspected it... of course she wouldn’t like you.

As much as you wanted to believe it was all a misunderstanding, you couldn’t deny the truth staring you in the face. Jinyoung had liked you for years, and you had no idea.

You needed to figure out your own heart. You didn’t have feelings for him, you were sure of it. It was just biological—good sex messed with your head, that’s all.

And yet…

The only thing that made sense was that Jinyoung no longer felt this way about you. He’d decided to get over you, and you knew he accomplished any goal he set his mind to.

You should have felt relief, but you didn’t. You couldn’t quite identify the sadness in your heart, the utter hollowness at missing something you never knew you could’ve had.

When you finally got back to your apartment, both your mind and your feet were tired. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, wiping off your makeup and brushing your hair into a ponytail.

Maybe it was your exhaustion. Maybe you were tired, in general, of holding that barrier up. The one thing separating you from what could either be the best thing that ever happened to you, or soul crushing heartbreak.

As you crawled into bed and pulled your knees up to your chest, you finally let the wall come down and held the feeling that fell into your palms safe and close to your heart like a firefly. Just this once, you recognized the terrifying truth you’d been denying for weeks.

You were falling in love.

#writing #got7 #park jinyoung #jinyoung #got7 fic #got7 fanfic #jinyoung fic #jinyoung fanfic #got7 smut #jinyoung smut #got7 scenario #got7 reaction #jinyoung imagine #prettywordsyouleft #travelleratheart101 #peayourdailysoftie #nosnakeuthankyou

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grownups-are-the-real-monsters · 3 years

Text

This is The Time

Summary: The dead silence lasted for about another twenty minutes. Roland was an absolute master at refusing to give in first. He’d sit and wait for hours which was arguably a terrible trait. But sometimes---‘No just bad.’ He thought. To pass that time, he found himself staring at a tiny family of frogs resting by the water. Wet and a shiny green color, they glimmered. Their black eyes stared back up at him...

Word Count: 3,002

Ships: Roland Deschain/Cuthbert Allgood

He is falling...

Roland’s heavy black boot caught the tip of an up facing rock nestled nicely in the field of wood. There was a cool breeze which came with one’s body launching forward, it was a juvenile way of falling Roland wasn’t used to anymore. Arms flailing about without grace while his hands flicked forward to brace himself and ruin his skin. Though, the right hand managed to slot itself comfortably into the blood-sticky palm belonging to good ol’ Cuthbert Allgood.

“Stand tall, Roland.” He chuckled, pulling him back to safety.

Young Deschain hiked himself back up but found it almost intoxicating that he could remain palm-to-palm with the Allgood boy. “Keep me balanced then.” He gripped his friend a little tighter before habitually holding on a bit too loosely.

He could feel the grotesquely open skin-scratch on Cuthbert’s left hand, the reason for the squelching puddle of blood between them. Those soft sucking sounds accompanied them throughout most of their walk to the deepest part of the wooded area just a short drive from their town.

Cuthbert squished the blood-puddle even more to squeeze Roland’s hand back to a tight position. Both boys had the rough skin of their fathers, hard work rewarded them with such a gift, but they were soft for each other.

“I brought the hammock.”

Roland looked to Cuthbert with gentle amusement. “We could’ve just roughed it.” He winked but he was almost sure it did not work on him. There was no way he pulled it off. Which rang true when Cuthbert began to heave in laughter. That boy was a sight for sore eyes and he never shied away from laughing his ass off.

The woods around them grew taller and more luscious with every twenty steps or so. The earth-y smell overcame them long ago but now the distant...wet scent of water traveled closer. Cuthbert was taking the lead on this little trip because Roland barely had half-the-mind he usually owned.

For Mr. Deschain had plenty to say about the courtship of his son and the laughing boy. None of this speech was warm or fuzzy. Rather as tough as the skin which wrapped around his palms. Roland wanted-ached-to rip the speech apart to it’s bare bones. He’d begun to do just that. But Cuthbert, smart as a whip, dragged him out of the house...to the woods before events he’d regret later could transpire.

Together since they were young pups and together now, Roland and Cuthbert journeyed to a small cliff above the water. It was a place they came to often enough to miss when absent. Their legs always aching to walk and make some sort of journey whenever life just got too disappointing.

The Allgood boy set aside the red hammock for later and plopped down onto the dirt, waiting to be joined by his best friend in already dirty jeans. Splotches of older memories littered the fading blue fabric. It was a good luck. Common for most of the boys in town.

“You got your reasons to go against him, Roland.” Cuthbert drew his first card in the game of tough conversation. He kept his face locked onto the ripples in the water which Roland found interesting. “They’re true and worth standing by. Don’t let your dad make them seem shitty.” He finally turned with that lovely little smirk on his face.

“You being the most important reason.” He tipped his chin. “If I was born without the ability to love you, my life would be bleak.” Roland smiled softly. He noticed the way Cuthbert looked away when his cheeks burned crimson. “But I could love him not and still have a full life, I think.” He mumbled, kicking at his boots.

Cuthbert looked off as if he knew Roland wasn’t being entirely realistic. He didn’t seem all that confident in his next move which was to wipe his blood covered hand down the leg of his jeans and gently grip Roland’s thigh. “If you love me so much...” He shuffled closer and enjoyed the way Roland hung on his words like he never did with anyone else. “Feel me up, Buttercup.” He winked because he could pull that off.

Roland smirked, laying his hot-hand atop Cuthbert’s. He leaned in just close enough for their lips to drag against each other. “I crave nothing more.” Those words basically shot down Cuthbert’s throat with how close they were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t mistake this lump for me being ready for round two, Roland. I think I just have a stick in my pants.” Cuthbert wined, shaking out his leg momentarily as Roland tied up the right end of the hammock to a tree. The air was still quiet and no company had yet to cross their path.

Roland let out a hum of reserved laughter. He found the space in his mind for moments spent being shocked at their own intimate relationship was not bare yet. He may never hit the capacity considering who he was.

Cuthbert slipped a long stick out from underneath his pant-leg and sighed with relief before hopping onto the swinging hammock, nearly killing himself in the process.

“Watch yourself, asshole.” Roland rolled his eyes but went into the seat without much more grace than his friend. They were just idiotic boys after all. He took to laying with his feet pointing down at the water, Cuthbert between his legs and resting his back to his chest. With some lingering hesitation, Roland wrapped his arms around him. There would always be a part of him that was unsure of how to act in their relationship. He figured Cuthbert, smart and so true to himself, wouldn’t understand. But ask not, know not.

Cuthbert nuzzled even closer and played with Roland’s hands. He almost resembled a giant cat. “You like sneaking out here with me?” He attempted to look back at his partner but found it to be a difficult task.

“Of course.” Roland nodded and habitually squeezed him a little.

To that, his partner just hummed and kicked off his boots (revealing a cowboy sock on one foot, the other was bare). It wasn’t entirely what Roland had expected from him but Cuthbert was a mystery sometimes. “Why do you ask?”

Cuthbert shrugged, body rubbing up against him. He gazed up at the clouds without a doubt, something was weighing on his mind. If Alain were here, he’d have it figured out already. But their best friend didn’t often want to accompany them on things which seemed so close to ‘dates’. No matter how many times Cuthbert invited him to observe...Roland’s thoughts digressed.

“Sorry your dad found out about us that way.” He winced at the memory from their afternoon. Roland wanted to heave up his lunch just at the idea of thinking more about that situation. “It was not a turn-on to have him walk in your room...” Cuthbert winked, Roland felt sick to his stomach but wished dearly for the boy never to change. He was entirely too amusing.

“Thanks for reminding me.” He chuckled but reached over to rub circles on Cuthbert’s hands with his thumb. The disgust on his father’s face was too much to think about. Roland had never wanted to see his father looking so...disappointed with me. It struck something deep.

He laughed. “His eyes nearly popped out of his head.” He flicked his hands outwards. “You’re just lucky you weren’t the one standing there with your pants basically at your ankles-”

“You really don’t know when to shut-up, do you?” Roland gagged and slapped his friend gently. Cuthbert merely smirked, playing with the miniature Rook Skull he wore on a chain. His real one was sitting atop his messy childhood dresser still filled with Garfield sweatshirts ten times too small for him now.

“Oh I do.” Cuthbert playfully pushed Roland’s face away. “But it’s just not fun that way, Roland. You know that.” He pinched him then and turned back to look down at the water. “Open your mouth and try it sometime.” He leaned all the way back, resting his head on Roland’s chest.

Another breeze rolled over their trembling shoulders, Cuthbert’s exposed toes wiggled either from the pleasure or chill. Maybe both. Roland watched him shove about half his right-foot onto the top side of the other so that his feet were swaddled in one oddly stretched warm cowboy sock. He actually did that pretty often. A fondness special only to his closest friends fell to the pit of Roland’s stomach.

“Bert?” He nudged him softly. His friend turned, best he could, looking somewhat pensive. “Do you think about the future at all?” He wasn’t sure where the question was coming from but it spilled from his lips nonetheless.

Cuthbert pulled back suddenly but shared not his laughter rather, an extension of that contemplative look. Narrowed eyes covered by his loose and long hair. “I imagine the flying car business is complete bullshit but I do like to think I die at the hands of a worthy enemy.”

He smirked, expecting to be smacked but Roland just frowned. Some of his energy deflated a little. “I don’t think that I have, Roland. Not like you.” He shook his head. “Once my thoughts hit the sight of me at the legal drinking age...it gets all fuzzy. Kind of always thought that meant I’d die before seeing twenty-two.” He glanced back to gauge Roland’s response but found that to be too unsettling.

“Not in any special way that I know about yet-” He shrugged.

“You speak nonsense.” Roland finally interrupted, knowing Cuthbert would just start rambling if he didn’t stop him and he didn’t want to hear any more of the speech.

Cuthbert rolled his eyes, pulling his foot free from it’s sock cage. “Always do.” He smirked but not that happy kind. It made Roland a bit angry.

“You actually believe this?”

Cuthbert laughed like the whole situation was ridiculous. “Yeah. I do.”

Roland felt another wave of frustration roll over him but he didn’t really care for the idea of showing it. He was excellent at fighting and so was Cuthbert. But he didn’t wish to get into that. The day needn’t get worse.

“I’m not trying to upset you, Roland.” He added with earnest eyes looking down at his lap. “It’s just the way I’ve always thought, huh?” He bumped their arms together with a gentle grin but his friend would have none of it. He sighed. “You could live without me, couldn’t you?” He teased but turned away to add. “I know you could, Roland-”

“Just the same as you could without me, Cuthbert.” He interrupted in a dominantly upset voice. It sent a horrible chill down his friend’s back. “We are strong-willed men, like our fathers before.” He sounded incredibly similar to a scalding parent. “But I don’t wish to live without you. I don’t dare think about such a thing like that, why do you?”

The laughing boy rolled those big eyes of his again. “I don’t know. I think that was my point.” He shook his head. Roland felt a strong pang of guilt mix with his previous annoyance.

Dead silence lasted for about another twenty minutes. Roland was an absolute master at refusing to give in first. He’d sit and wait for hours which was arguably a terrible trait. But sometimes---‘No just bad.’ He thought. To pass that time, he found himself staring at a tiny family of frogs resting by the water. Wet and a shiny green color, they glimmered. Their black eyes stared back up at him...

“I might be able to live without you. But I would not love again.” Roland spoke first. He actually managed to do it. He blinked down as if to thank the shiny frogs for boring him so much. They were however gone.

Cuthbert considered that, looking bemused before turning back and planting a wet kiss to Roland’s cheek. “That’s cute.”

“I mean it, asshole.” He wiped his sleeve against the spit on his face. At this point in his life, he could hardly be grossed out to the max by his boyfriend’s spit.

Cuthbert nodded. “I know. You always mean what you say. I like that about you, Roland. No one would believe how sweet you are with me.” He helped his friend wipe his face before planting a much softer kiss to his nose. Sweet yet so pleasurable. Roland felt his reaction deep in his gut and found himself to be glad that his father knew of their courtship. It was embarrassing and awful considering Mr. Deschain was steamed. But at least there’d be no more of their silly pretend game of being ‘just friends’.

Roland smiled, grabbing Cuthbert’s chin to initiate some real kissing. They chuckled against each-other’s warm mouths. “You make me too soft.” He winced at the pathetic way he’d given his anger away just so he could lovingly make-out with him.

“I hope I make you hard.”

Roland’s mouth watered. He’d be getting a round two after all...

: : : : : : : :

“Can you zip up my jeans, I literally can’t. It’s stuck.” Cuthbert approached Roland, crotch first. He really had no shame. His friend came forth and tugged the tiny metal zipper for him with an amused smile.

As Roland worked on clothing his boyfriend, Cuthbert took the secret time to admire him. “So, what do you see...in the future, I mean?” He asked, staring down at the top of his boyfriend’s head.

Roland hummed, finally managing to slide the gadget up and moving to get the button closed for him. “I’d like to get far from here.” He looked around with thought. “Maybe a road-trip with you?” He smiled.

“That’s it! That’d be what kills me. Traveling with you.” Cuthbert teased and was rewarded with a hard-slap on the arm. “Sorry, sorry. What else?”

Roland pursed his lips like he might refrain from speaking any more. “A house. Even for a couple of drifters like us.” He gestured between them with a smirk.

"Any kiddies?”

Roland shot his head up with puzzled eyes. “How would that-?”

"Adoption, Dumbass.” Cuthbert soaked up this rare moment of Roland being an absolute moron.

His boyfriend looked down again, looking younger than ever before. “I don’t know about that, Bert. I’m not the nurturing type-”

“Bullshit!” Cuthbert laughed. “You always say that but it’s not true. You’ve proven me right a bunch of times.” He lifted Roland’s hands from his pants and pulled them back down the dirt, towards the water. “Who knows what’s gonna happen? Maybe we will get to have a kid and that house, you and me.” He hopped down to the edge and chuckled.

Roland admired his wild spirit and held on strongly to his hand. “What will we name this child?”

Cuthbert widened his eyes which filled up with new life. As if he’d never even thought of such an idea. It both filled Roland with joy and sadness. His best friend truly did believe he was to die young. “Oh, what an exciting task!” He swung their grip over the water.

“We’ve got a lot of time to think about it.” Roland added, with a bit of genuine encouragement. He ached to see Cuthbert so happy.

“Something stupid and original.” He continued with blazing joy. He might’ve begun to list his thousands of ideas had he not glanced at his boyfriend with such enthusiasm that it made him irresistible.

Roland had to kiss him just a few more times, wanting the moment to last forever even though it was impossible. He hoped to remember it fondly in that future of theirs...he was sure of it even if Cuthbert wasn’t. “I got you wrapped around my finger, huh?” Cuthbert wiggled his brows when they pulled apart.

Roland blushed a little. “You like to think so.” He rolled his eyes but felt his chest tighten when his boyfriend stuck his tongue out at him. It was juvenile and very akin to puppy-love but...it was intoxicating.

“I’m glad we found each other, y’know?” Cuthbert looked off towards the ripples in what was seemingly just still-water.

Roland came closer and pulled Cuthbert’s arm so they could both rest on the dirt. “Something willed us together. I think.” He threw a rock into the water and smiled like a little boy.

Cuthbert raised his brow. “Like...the Force?” He giggled, taking up his own little rock-pile. Roland rolled his eyes but found a smirk crawling over his face. He hoped the tiny frog family wasn’t anywhere near their throwing party. “I don’t know about Star Wars, Roland.”

Instead of replying, Roland pushed him back with a hand to the face, ignoring Cuthbert’s licks to his palm. The oozing blood of the past briefly popped into his brain. The hot-red which had been pouring from Cuthbert’s own palm...It’d almost certainly paused and dried to a crunchy crust.

Roland was in an odd state of complete bliss which was a refreshing change from just a couple hours ago. He owed the mood boost to the man who was just beginning to thwack the open water with dirty rocks. His aim was perfect. He hit nothing but clear water and made excellent splashing distance.

Roland loved him with all his being. Cuthbert was just about the best-

He burst into a round of hearty laughter at the sight of Cuthbert’s Garfield the Cat underwear sticking out of his pants...the zipper now broken and fly-open.

It didn’t take long for his boyfriend to realize just what he was laughing at. Maybe it was the breeze...Roland laughed even harder. Cuthbert smirked and leaned back on his palms. “Jokes on you. I like the look.” He shrugged.

They fell silent again as the daylight bled from a yellow to a dark orange. Signaling the day turning from life to still-memory. Both boys sighed, leaning closer.

Maybe tomorrow would be just as good...

#idk #i just love them #roland deschain #cuthbert allgood #The Dark Tower #my fanfiction #roland/cuthbert #stephen king #textpost

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your-denki-kun · 3 years

Text

Devils Son

A/N: Okay, I don’t know what this is, but I had a lot of fun writing this. Basically a crack fic. Requests are welcome but no smut. Also sorry for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language and I have dyslexia. Also, don’t try to do any of the events that are mentioned in this one-shot.

What: Funny, suicide warning, confusing af, badly written

Word count: 2291

~Izuku pov.~

Why did I agree to this again? I ask myself as I stare at the demon summoning circle on the floor of Tokoyami's dorm. Kirishima, Tokoyami, Jirou, Sero and Shouji are here as well. We're all seated around the circle that's drawn with a red crayon on the wooden floor.

''Are you sure this is the smartest idea Tokoyami-kun?'' I ask nervously, hoping to talk him out of this.

''Yes. This should strengthen my quirk. It's a family tradition to summon a demon so I can strengthen the bond with dark shadow, seeing demons are associated with darkness and dark shadow is the darkness.'' Tokoyami explains as he looks up from the ancient looking book.

''No need to be scared Midobro! We're all strong, so if the demon tries something we will stop him.'' Kirishima beams with his toothy smile.

''Yeah, Kirishima is right.'' Sero reassures as he pats my back.

That's not what I'm worried about though. I sigh and nod as I look at the ground. We sit in silence for a bit longer until Tokoyami starts talking.

''Okay, we all need to hold hands and stare at the middle of the circle after I light the candles. I'll do the talking and we will see if it works.''

We all nod and Tokoyami gets up to light all the candles and once they're all lit he sits back down and holds out his hands. We all follow his action and hold one another's hand before staring at the middle of the circle with symbols drawn all over it. Tokoyami starts mumbling in what would be gibberish to everyone else, but I understand every single word.

He's calling for the demon closest, that's bad. It'll most likely be a high ranking one. This is bad, really bad. I internally freak out. Sero notices this and squeezes my hand in silent reassurance, but it doesn't work seeing Tokoyami is starting to talk louder.

I feel a presence enter the room, a dark one and sigh as I just give up and completely relax. It's for Tokoyami. It's to strengthen his quirk. I keep telling myself as I feel the presence grow stronger and stronger.

Tokoyami stops talking out of nowhere and smoke starts appearing in the circle, blowing out the candles that are on the edge of the circle. Slowly a demon becomes clear. He is wearing a black suit with blood red accents and four lines on each shoulder, black dress shoes and his hair in a bun on the back of his head.

A commander, great. They all know me. I groan as the demons eyes widen before he kneels down, head bowed to the ground. Everyone looks at him shocked while I look at the ground as well, really hating this situation right now.

''That was easier than I thought.'' Tokoyami mumbles, causing me to grimace.

''Yeah, no. You can rise now Rayden.'' I sigh as I look back up again, an awkward smile on my face.

The demon nods and stands up, standing straight and in the pose he is supposed to stand in when around higher ups. My classmates look at me shocked as I get up and walk into the circle, something everyone knows you should not do, well, the people in this room do. I pat Rayden’s shoulder and he looks at me.

''Loosen up will ya?'' I chuckle softly and he nods. ''Man it's been a while, hasn't it?''

''It has been indeed.''

''I said to loosen up. Dad ain't here. If you won't tell neither will I.'' He nods and stand comfortably while I turn to look at my friends shocked faces.

''Midoriya! You know not to go inside the circle while the ritual is still going!'' Tokoyami exclaims in shock. ''I told you that before we started and you said you understood.''

''I do understand. If a human steps inside the circle while the ritual is still going they will be the slave of the demon who's summoned.'' I say while I nod my head.

''Oi, is Deku here?'' Kacchan's voice sounds as he opens the door and looks at me for a few seconds before sighing and walking inside and closing the door behind him. ''Really? I leave you out of my fucking sight for ten minutes and this is what fucking happens?''

''Hihi, Yeeeaaah.'' I nervously chuckle as I rub the back of my neck and avoid eye contact.

''Ah, Bakugou. How are you?'' Rayden asks, straightening his posture once again.

''Fucking fine, how bout you?''

''I'm doing great. I'm at a bit of a lose why exactly I am here, I thought it was for a deal.''

''Well, yeah. You are here for a deal. Tokoyami wants to make a deal with you to strengthen his quirk.'' I explain as I turn to Rayden.

''I see, who is Tokoyami?''

''That would be me?'' Tokoyami says as he raises his hand, eyes still wider than usual.

''Well, if Midoriya is here you must be important to him, so what is this deal?''

''I want to be one with the darkness in exchange for a part of my soul.''

''That's a high exchange.'' Rayden states bluntly.

''It's what all my family members did.''

''Get me some pocky and good quality food and we have a deal.''

''You and your pocky.'' I mumble as I walk over to Kacchan.

''I'll make the fucking food, nerd grab your fucking pocky.'' He sighs as he walks out of the room.

''Hey! I wanted to eat my pocky!'' I pout as I walk out of my room and go to get in nonetheless.

As I reach my room I walk over to my nightstand and grab the pack of pocky before walking back to Tokoyami's room. I enter and walk over to Rayden handing him my pocky with a pout as I sit back down and cross my arms in front of my chest, glaring at the ground with my cheeks puffed out. It must look ridiculous, but I don't care.

''What the hell is happening?'' Jirou asks after a few moments of silent.

''Kacchan is cooking Rayden’s favorite meal so Tokoyami can get this deal over with and he can scold me.'' I grumble as I don't look up.

''Yeah, Bakugou will scold you.'' Rayden hums with a faint grin.

''Shush, I know. No need to remind me.''

''I'm back. Here's your fucking food. Now make this shitty deal and go back to fucking hell so I can scold this stupid fucking idiot.'' Kacchan growls as he glares at me.

''Well, now that I have good food and pocky, I'll let you be one with the darkness. Bye.'' And with that Rayden is gone.

''Now, WHAT THE FUCK NERD!! YOU HAD ONE FUCKING JOB!!'' Kacchan yells as he grabs me by the collar and lifts me up.

''I was just trying to help Tokoyami! I didn't think someone that high up would come!''

''YOU LITERALLY FUCKING ATTRACT HIGH RANKED FUCKING DEMONS FUCKING IDIOT!!''

''I was hoping it was a low classed one and that I would be lucky!''

''YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD IF HE FINDS OUT!! AND SO WILL I BE!!''

''Can't kill somethings that's already dead.'' I mumble softly.

''Ugh! You're going to be the fucking death of me once, you fucking know?'' He growls as he lets go of my collar.

''Well, then you can just join me and be by my side. We both know you'll be super high ranking.'' I grin as I move closer to the door.

''YOU LITTLE FCUKING SHIT!!'' He howlers as I sprint out the door and he runs after me. ''I AIN'T GOING TO FUCKING HELL YOU DUMB ASS!! I'LL FUCKING GO TO FUCKING HEAVEN!!''

''WE BOTH KNOW YOU WON'T!!'' I laugh as I speed up.

''YOU FUCKING LITTLE DEMON!!!''

''How original!'' I call as I roll my eyes and change my course so I'm heading to the rooftop.

''YOU LITTLE SHIT GET BACK HERE!!'' Kacchan calls as he follows after me.

I can faintly hear classmates call after the both of us as I finally reach the door leading to the rooftop. Slamming open the door I run over to the edge and stand on it, turning around to face my classmates as I spread my arms wide and smile sweetly at them.

''DEKU YOU MOTHERFUCKER GET OFF THE FUCKING EDGE!!'' Kacchan yells as he steps closer.

''Deku-kun! Get off the edge please!''

''Come on Midobro, get down please. I'm sure Bakubro isn't that mad and if you just explain what just happened we can figure this all out!'' Kirishima pleads with desperate eyes.

As more and more beg me to get down from the edge I lock eyes with Kacchan and smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief. He growls and faintly nods, giving me silent permission to do as I please. And that's exactly what I do, I lean back and let myself fall as I close my eyes.

Once I'm two feet above the ground I grow my wings and shoot up as I hear my classmates yelling my name. I fly up to the roof and see their terrified looks while Kacchan shakes his head and walks over to me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me onto the roof. Even though he gave me permission he looks pissed.

''Come on Kacchan, we both know that I won't die from that.'' I smile sweetly as he keeps dragging me to the door, tail and horns sprouting as I tuck my wings.

''Fucking dumbass. I swear if your old man finds out you're so fucking dead.''

''I already am, but dad won't kill me. He will praise me for scaring them. We both know how he is.'' I chuckle as we walk down the stairs.

''Fucking spoiled ass fucker.''

''I'm not spoiled Kacchan.''

We reach the common room and he forces me to sit down on the couch as the class slowly walks down the stairs and sit around me while Kacchan stands behind the couch so he's right behind me. I smirk and move my tail so it almost pokes him, but he simply grabs it and I whimper softly. Smirking he lets go and looks at our classmates.

''Since when do you have wings, horns and a tail?'' Jirou asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

''Since...About ten months before the entrance exam I think. Yeah, sounds about right.'' I hum with a smile.

''When we summoned the demon he knew you, how?'' Tokoyami asks, causing the class to look at us shocked.

''You can't do such things in the dorms. It's dangerous.'' Iida scolds while chopping his hands up and down.

''It's not dangerous for me and seeing they were with me nothing could go wrong. Kacchan can vouch for that.''

''Fucker is fucking right. Summoning demons won't go wrong as long as he's fucking there.'' Kacchan sighs when everyone looks at him.

''And why is that?'' Momo asks with confused eyes.

''Because if they try something while I'm there they're in trouble. Big trouble.'' I smile as I feel Kacchan shiver behind me.

''God he's scary.'' He whispers under his breath.

''Dad is not scary Kacchan.....Well, not around me.'' I awkwardly chuckle at the end.

''Exactly. That fucker almost fucking killed me when he found out why your fucking quirk activated.'' Kacchan states with a scowl.

''Well, you kinda deserved that, but you also didn't. And don't get mad at me, I stopped him before he could do anything serious.''

''What are you two talking about?'' Todoroki asks in his usual monotone voice.

''Ah, well. When I died and dad found out why he was mad at Kacchan, but it wasn't Kacchan's fault. Others made him do it and if he bullied me than my beatings wouldn’t be as bad and stuff so he did it to protect me. Dad didn't know that though so he almost killed Kacchan, but I got him to stop.'' I explain with a smile.

''You....Died?'' Ojiro asks with wide eyes.

''Yeah. I jumped off the roof of the school after Kacchan told me to because people told him to do it and after All Might said I could never be a hero. And all because everyone thought I was quirkless because my quirk wouldn't activate until I died.'' I slightly pout.

''Quit your fucking whining.'' Kacchan grumbles behind me.

''Yeah, yeah.''

''Who is your dad?'' Todoroki asks, seems he's the first to recover.

''Ah, my dad is Lucifer, the king of hell.'' I smile brightly.

''WHAT?!?!''

''How?! You're so sweet and pure and innocent!''

''I almost killed Overhaul, I almost killed Stain and you should've seen me when I fought that villain on Nabu island.''

''How does Bakugou know?'' Jirou asks as she looks from Kacchan to me and back.

''Ah, well. He was walking past the school when I jumped and kinda cradled my body and then dad came and I got revived and shit and yeah. Kacchan was also assigned to keep an eye on me seeing I can be reckless sometimes.''

''Sometimes my fucking ass.''

''Oh hush. You're reckless as well. Plus I can't die anymore, I'm practically immortal. The only thing that can 'kill' me is when I 'die' of old age.'' I huff as I cross my arms in front of my chest.

''I.....Wow.''

''Yeah. Well, I'll give you guys some time to let this sink in. I'm going to get new pocky and Kacchan is going to pay.'' I smile as my tail fishes Kacchan's wallet from his pocket and I grab it, waving it around.

''FUCKER COME BACK HERE?!?!'' Kacchan yells as he runs after me, but I'm already flying in the sky towards the supermarket.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku #midoriya #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #katsuki #class 1-A #funny #this sucks #what even is this

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