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dandelioncrownns · 3 years

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random grishaverse facts/trivia (mostly tgt/kos, tbh), because i love useless details. Also, attempted organisation, because i like order too. + ft. my unwanted commentary

the darkling

has a sweet tooth

loves animals and nature in general

for those of you who have read demon in the woods, he got to meet the white tigers :)

his bedchamber walls are carved into trees bc he loves the woods

his favourite trees in particular are pine trees (or just evergreen trees in general)

he used to be afraid of the dark (many possibly worrying? interesting? implications to this; i won’t get into it here tho)

he likes bright colours, but wears black all the time basically for the aesthetic

he met his younger half-sister, Ulla, when he was a seer’s apprentice in Fjerda

the darkling is a musician! He plays the fiddle, and growing up, he played the balalaika and oud (i wonder if he can read tablature,,)

His father was a very powerful heartrender (maybe this is why the corporalki are valued so highly by him?)

genya

she got an amplifier between the end of R+R and the start of KoS (kestrel bones)

Genya used Dekora Nevich, the Ornamental Blade, to poison the King

It smells like cinnamon and is a warm golden colour

the royal family / nikolai’s bio family

the King once cut himself on his own sword

genya named the queen’s dog

until she was like 11, Genya was like the daughter the queen never had (omg i really wonder how Nikolai and Vasily felt about that? ik it’s not really mentioned, and Nik kinda acts like he just met Genya is S+S, but they must have been a lot closer, right?? I mean genya was almost always at the grand palace with Queen Tatiana, and nikolai just really wanted his parents’ attention, there must have been some kind of maybe one-sided jealousy/sibling rivalry thing, right?? I digress- for now)

also the queen in a dog person

p. sure Nikolai is a mommy’s boy

(possible explanation:) he looks exactly like his real father (except for his eyes). Nikolai even has the same laugh as Magnus

the queen was also fed up with Vasily and his horses

Vasily rides a white gelding horse and Nikolai rides a speckled grey horse (called Punchline)

speaking of, vasily is definitely a horse girl, but like... just the worst (darkling 🤝vasily)

Queen Tatiana’s letters to Magnus Opjer were “very racy”

She doesn’t approve of women in trousers

Linnea is ~1 year younger than Nikolai

she is good at math + studies engineering at ketterdam (I wonder if maybe she and Nikolai crossed paths when he was at uni- they’re around the same age, so maybe?)

The King and Queen hired a clown for nikolai’s 10th birthday (the worst birthday party he’d been to, inclusive of the night Vasily died, according to Nikolai)

Nikolai is afraid of spiders (and also clowns???)

nikolai:

he can juggle

Nikolai sucks at learning languages

he once spoke Fjerdan so badly a man named Knut offered him a ruby to stop

his Kerch seems pretty good tho

Nikolai met The Darkling when he was 14

Nikolai is a baritone (as is Jesper!)

In his free time, Nikolai writes bad poetry (remember that time he got stabbed w/ a letter opener bc his poetry sucked?)

he went through an emo phase/ existential crisis before becoming sturmhond.

during said emo phase, he wrote rhyming poetry pretty much exclusively

He also took philosophy classes at uni (PPE?)

alina:

alina tried on the same rose dress that the Queen watched vasily die in

Nikolai gifted Alina a VERY low-cut cobalt lace gown (In the words of Nadia, “The bodice might as well be cut to the navel.” )

Alina hates herring, but Zoya and Nikolai love it

She is VERY sarcastic and snarky!! I feel like this gets glossed over so much in the fandom, and just why?? (she’s so gloomy and over everything 90% of the time, i love it so much)

So this isn’t technically a fact-fact, but there is no way Alina wasn’t at least a little bit into women. Did you read how she talked abt genya? Zoya? there’s no way she wasn’t into them

Alina doesn’t really like hard cheese

zoya + zoyalai:

Zoya’s horse is called Serebrine

Zoya can use her lightning as a defibrillator (I’m sure other squallers can do this too with the right training)

Zoya likes Nikolai’s hands (and Nikolai likes Zoya’s feet lmao)

she has ‘weird (long?) incisors’

she definitely had a crush on Nikolai since Ruin and Rising

kaz:

Kaz grew up on a farm in Southern Kerch, in Lij

Kaz is a both a cat and a dog person (he just likes strays)

Matthias is a dog person, obviously

All the other crows are cat people

He likes hot chocolate

both he and nikolai like brandy

hates cereal

Kaz is obsessed with magic + likes puzzles

actually very funny if he wasn’t terrifying (honestly?? at leat 70% of his dialogue is just witty quips/jokes)

Kaz’s right leg is the one he broke, and the dregs usually get their tattoo on their right forearm

the other crows:

Jesper has been known to go line-dancing (and would like country music)

Mal and Jesper were friends in S+S!! (Probably) Jesper has a not-really-secret crush on sturmhond.

He also had a VERY not secret crush on Kaz before wylan, ofc

Matthias’ middle name is Benedik

Nina would win in an arm wrestling contest against Jesper

Inej has a thing for Kaz’s eyes

Nina was at the orphanage with the other grisha kids in R+R

In the opening scene of CK, Jesper was wearing a navy waistcoat with little gold stars (his fashion is just top tier honestly)

grisha- powers, etc.:

A solar eclipse would have no effect on the Darkling’s powers, but it would make it harder for Alina to summon.

Fabrikators can make flowers bloom

The twins have shark teeth amplifiers

Adrik and Leoni are saints

general world stuff:

Gay marriage is legal in Kerch!

there was a landbridge connecting Shu Han and Kerch but the council of tides covered it

Antimony is used as mascara

kruge is pale purple paper currency

ravkan currency has Nikolai’s face on it (ig not anymore tho?)

Hringkälla is celebrated on March 20th

the distance between Ivets and Os Alta is only about 100 miles? (i’m just going to willfully ignore this, because thats,, so small?)

Mermaids and dragons exist(ed) in the grishaverse

misc:

the daughter of the duke of ivets has a daughter who can play the harp

there is not fourth tale of krigi

The baroness Natasha Beritrova is fifty (as of KoS) and has lands near caryeva

Elke Marie Smit is from one of the most powerful Kerch families and is just 16 in KoS

Oncat is an orange tabby

Anya liked Joost a lot :( (I got way too attached to them at the start of SoC and was so sad + confused when they died lol)

david eats hard boiled eggs for his working days in the shops

‘Malyen’ is the Ravkan version of ‘Malcolm’ (very fitting)

Nikolai brought the kids at Keramzin toy boats + frequently sends Alina and Mal gifts

The triumvirate would also visit them every feast of Sankt Nikolai too :)

star signs / birthdays (ik the gv constellations aren’t the same as ours, but idc):

Inej: Cancer (june 21st - july 22nd)

Kaz: Capricorn (december 22nd - january 19th)

Nina: Leo (july 23rd - august 22nd)

Jesper: Gemini (may 21st - june 20th)

Matthias: Taurus (april 20th - may 20th)

Wylan: virgo (august 23rd - september 22nd)

Kuwei: aries (march 21st - april 19th)

Darkling: aries

Nikolai is most likely either a gemini or cancer (but he could also be a Leo or Taurus). Whatever it is, he is a summer baby.

Alina and Mal have the same birthday (they were given the Duke’s birthday when they came to the orphanage)

heights:

Jesper is 6’2” - 6’3”

Kaz is 6′

Matthias is 6’4

Nina is 5’9”-5’10”

Inej is 5’3” - 5’4”

Alina is ’short’ (5’3”?)

Mal and the Darkling are ‘tall’ (tbf, like all the characters are tall >:( I want my short people rights)

Nikolai (well, stumhond, but i think they’re the same height) is described by Jesper as tall (so 6’2”+?? why is everyone so tall??? I-)

Zoya is several inches shorter than nina (zoyalai height difference lets go)

Kuwei is slightly shorter than Wylan (who is about 5’8”?)

there’s definitely more, so if you made it this far and have any more, pls add to the list!

#grishaverse #six of crows #the grisha trilogy #the darkling #nikolai lantsov #alina starkov #king of scars #rule of wolves #<< mild spoilers #zoyalai #kanej #etc. lol #brain dump

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maybe-itll-be-someday · 3 years

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After The Rain

For my beautifully bright friend, @sequinsmile-x.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl. I’d only ever be able to pull 2.5k words out of my math riddled brain for you.

Read on AO3

Aaron always did hate the rain.

The rain always meant that he would have no choice but to stay inside, a witness to the bottles of whiskey that his father would consume and his mother’s indifference to the situation. The rain meant that he’d have to stay home from the library, where he spent hours perusing through books and living in between worn out spines. Instead, he’d stay holed up in his room until his father’s booming voice beckoned him out, the rain aggravating his already delicate temper another notch.

It drizzled the day that they lowered his mother into the ground. Barely 25, his only suit hanging off his shoulders and circles under his eyes from nights he spent reading through cases and making his life more than his father’s ever was. He doesn’t cry as her casket gets lowered six feet beneath them, so the sky softly weeps on his behalf.

It rains the day that Haley leaves him. He comes home to their apartment, a light smattering of rain drops on their window as he takes in the empty space of their living room. Jack’s favorite toys are gone from the living room floor, where he spent hours stacking blocks and attempting to shove shapes into the wrong holes. The clothes she left in their closet were non-essentials - not anything they needed to live their everyday lives.

(It’s only fitting that he gets left behind too.)

It storms the day he makes the decision to send Emily off to Paris, his heart in his throat when he tells their superiors that the only way they could keep her safe is by letting everyone think that she was dead. Tears sting in his eyes and his fingers cramp from the intensity in which he’s holding the pen as he signs away to her new life, one that just recently slotted him in like a neat puzzle piece.

Thunder rumbles above them when he squeezes her hand, promising her that he would find Doyle and that he would bring her home. The skies crack open and the rain starts to fall when he gets to stamp his affection for her on her lips, sealing whispered promises he had no idea if he could keep.

So he takes the assignment in Pakistan, because when the sky splits open on a Wednesday night, he feels like he’s drowning.

At least it didn’t rain in the desert.

It rains on their third date, much to his dismay.

He should’ve checked the weather forecast before committing to taking her on a picnic in the park on a rare weekday off. He even goes to a boutique wine store in DC, asking for advice on what kind of wines would go best with which cheese because he wants to impress her. He wants the flavours to melt on her tongue to be the same sharp contrast of salty and sweet that lingered on his tongue when he tasted her. He buys her favorite wine, wrapped in a label that’s worn with time, because he wants to show

He just wants to tell her how he feels, but it’s way too soon. She’s only been back in the States for a few months, their romance rekindled in the past few weeks.

So instead, he tries to plan every moment of their date to the perfection she deserved.

If only he had checked the weather.

Emily had shown up at his door, white linen flowing down from thin straps and cinching around her waist, delicately draping right above her knees and his mouth going dry at the sight of her. She wrapped her fingers around his neck and kissed him in greeting, his own hands greedily grabbing the fabric under his hands and internally debated if they could forgo the picnic and instead eat the overpriced cheese he bought off of her skin.

But her eyes brightened when she saw the picnic basket he had prepared, running a finger and reading the labels of everything he bought in perfect intonation to their native languages.

“Where did you get all of this?” She had asked, cheeks dusted in a light pink at the realization that he had done this all for her.

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll tell you.” He’s always been attuned to her movements - a careful eye thrown in her direction. It had started just as a precaution, his opinions on her joining the BAU still up for debate.

It had slowly and too easily transformed into something else completely. It was probably the reason why he had gone to four different delis in DC, tracking down cheese he couldn’t pronounce the names of and two bottles of wine that he thinks cost him more than all the wine he’s ever bought in his life.

He remembers the first time he caught it. Reading a report from over her shoulder, their relationship refining its rough edges as they slipped closer and closer together. He remembers the smell of her perfume, the soft scent of something floral in his nose as he read through her report.

“Good.” He had said, a soft hand on her shoulder in approval when her shoulders tightened ever so slightly. Not in annoyance, or in anger, but in a frustration that he thinks had to do with the way her hips shifted in her seat. He was just starting to learn about her, of the mole that was tucked on her collarbone, of the small rose tattoo on her ribs and the dove that flew across her hip bone.

He spent his time exploring which patches of skin produced which noises, which angle of his caused her to grip whichever part of him she was holding tighter, and which words caused his name to roll off of her tongue in a sweet cacophony of moans.

Her pupils darkened at his approval, his touch igniting something under her skin that when he said it later that night, wrapped in her silk sheets - the words good girl dropped in the middle of unintelligible mutters - she had arched into him and her thighs clamped down around his hips as she urged him to go deeper and faster, chasing her release by embedding him under her skin.

Another button he’s learned how to press and his delight grew as her pupils widened at his words.

“As long as I can hold you to that.” He wanted to tug her back into his bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that his apartment was kid-free for once but she just cackled and tugged on his hand, telling him to grab the picnic basket because she was starving .

They find a secluded area of Potomac park and he asks her to explain whatever it is he bought, because he really was only working off of the recommendations of the elderly Italian woman at the first deli who had written down all the cured meats and cheeses that he should buy when he mentioned it would be for his girlfriend.

Emily tells him which wine would go best with which cheese and he feeds her grapes and cherries that stained her lips in a soft pink, stealing soft kisses when he lingers close enough and enjoying the blush that spreads on her skin when his hand draws soft circles on the inside of her knee.

The dark, grey sky looms over them without warning, the clouds splitting open to let fat drops of rain land on the very expensive cheese that he thinks is an absurd amount for pressed curds of milk. Aaron starts to quickly pack their picnic, calculating the amount of time that it’s going to take to get to the car that they’ve parked on the other side of the road and wonders why the rain was determined to ruin what was going to be one of his favorite memories.

“Aaron.” She says, chuckling and running a hand down his back. “It’s only the rain.”

But she also notices the way his body has gone rigid, jaw set in a tight line as he continues to pack the food back into the basket. He flinches when a particularly fat raindrop hits the back of his neck and she frowns at his reaction.

But she doesn’t press, instead helping him pack away all of their food and letting him coral her under a nearby tree just as the rain pelts the ground in heavy, loud waves. The rain was torrential, their visibility limited to the first twenty feet in front of them and Aaron already knows that they won’t make it back to the car without getting soaked, if they could find it in the downpour.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He mutters, fists curled tightly and Emily pushes the wet curls across his forehead and brushes off his apology.

“It’s not like you can control the weather.”

“I should’ve checked--” He protests.

“It’s okay, I actually like the rain.” Her head cocks, appraising him with a careful eye and Aaron knows that he doesn’t have to tell her that he isn’t a big fan of the rain. She stares at him for a moment longer and as he is about to suggest they sprint back to the car, her hand slips into his and she tugs him out from under the shade of the tree and right into the downpour.

“Emily, what are you doing ?” He asks, his voice loud to try and compete with the rain that was battering the ground beneath them. Emily doesn’t respond, instead keeping a firm grip on his hand as the drops of water soaked her skin, causing the white fabric around her to cling to her skin.

“Dance with me.” She says, a gentle tug on his hand pulling him closer.

“There’s no music.” He says and she just laughs, his pedantics having the opposite effect on her as she steps closer to him, lifting the hand in hers as his arm loops instinctively around her waist. He’s about to protest again, because they really should be getting back to the car because the food is in a wooden basket under a tree, but she tips her lips on his and effectively stops his protests before they begin.

Her temple brushes against his cheek, and the taut pull of his muscles releasing slightly. She curls into him, her hand resting on the small of his back as his palm flattens across her shoulders, his thumb edging the outline of its blade. A shiver runs up her spine at the contact, the warmth of his fingers a sharp contrast to the rain that slid on their skin. She starts leading him in a gentle sway, their movements oddly on beat with the beating of the rain.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never danced in the rain, Hotchner.” He shrugs, a playful smile gracing his lips.

“I’m not in the habit of catching a cold or freezing in wet clothes.” Emily laughs, the soft lilt of it wrapping his heart in a warmth that causes those three words to curl dangerously at the end of his lips.

“The rain isn’t all bad.” She says, glancing up towards the dark sky as she lets the rain pound on her skin. “It brings the flowers. It cleans the air. It helps us savor the sunshine just a little bit more.”

Her fingers twine around a damp strand of his hair at the base of his neck, the scrape of her nails eliciting the release of the tension in his shoulders. He pulls her a little closer, taking the lead her in a soft shuffle

“The rain brings the rainbows.” She says, a soft smile curling at the edge of her lips, as if she was telling him a secret he wasn’t supposed to know about.

He didn’t think he’d ever find himself dancing in the rain. The torrential background of some of his more unpleasant memories is the same background that makes his chest want to split open to let all the light that was building inside of him out. To let the three words that curl dangerously at the edge of his lips to tumble out laced in a million promises and praises he wanted to give to her.

He didn’t think he’d find himself here, her soft figure pressed against his as the rain soaked their skin. He didn’t think he’d get to imprint his affection for her against her lips, tasting the sweet tartness of the cherries that stained her lips. He didn’t think he’d ever get to have her.

The words slip from his lips, his affection for her pouring from him with no warning or forethought. He just needs to tell her because he’s happy, and he doesn’t think he’d ever be this happy in the rain .

“I love you.” He says breathlessly, panic rising in him as she stiffens in his arms. “You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know.”

But she giggles, bright and brilliantly, and tugs his lips right onto hers and says that she loves him too.

If this was his rainbow, he’d happily let it storm for the rest of his life.

The next time it rains, he is the one to tug her into the park across the street. He takes her hand and leads her in a waltz he definitely doesn’t know, the cadence of her laugh sweet and light in the air. He sings Blackbird in her ear, low and whispered, because she’s always brought out a side of him that he thought he could keep buried under steel-reinforced walls.

He’d give every side of him to her, if she asked.

Maybe they’d make enough of these memories, of the rain soaking them to the bone but they would laugh and he’d make her hot chocolate after and he’d peel the heavy fabric of her dress off of her skin as she laughed and tell him to hurry up because Emily Prentiss was anything but patient.

Maybe they’d make enough memories to clean the stained ones that followed him whenever it rained.

Aaron always did hate the rain.

But with her, he hated it a little bit less.

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron x emily #ckbwrites

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cloud-9ine · 3 years

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Roses are pretty cliché, don't you think? (pt 1)

⤷ pairing - bakugo katsuki x (fem) reader

⤷ fandom - bnha

⤷ warnings - swearing, very slight angst

⤷ summary - bakugo was already out of his element when he went to buy flowers; so he didn’t take kindly to you criticising his preference for roses

⤷ word count - 2.2k+

⤷ notes - i have never written bakugo before and GOD is this hard. i imagine older him would be a lot calmer and a lot less quick to blowing something up but he still feels ooc. tell me what you think!

⤷ pt 1, pt 2

The card Bakugo held was slightly crumpled within his clenched fist. The pretty pastels evidently not enough to calm his fired nerves. It was Mina’s idea, he reasoned, she was the one that knew what girls liked. If anything went wrong, then it was her fault.

Although, if it was up to him, he probably would never apologise.

Bakugo knew he was an asshole. He knew he fucked up. He also knew he would sooner die than admit it. It was a fatal flaw that he never fully grew out of, much to the chagrin of both himself and his friends. The self-loathing was hard to ignore in the dark veil of the night, nor the quiet light of the morning, when the tension lay as thick as the pillows that separated them.

“Pfft, you look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

He huffed at the words from the man next to him, the snicker that left his lips only serving to spike his emotions further.

“Shut it, sparky.” Denki only regarded his insult with a small laugh, shaking his head lightly.

“Come on, you don’t have to look so scared. (Y/N)’s super nice, not to mention cute as a button too!” he grinned, clapping a couple times out of excitement. Bakugo sighed, cramming the business card in his front pocket without care.

“I don’t think Kyoka would be too happy to hear that.” Denki sniggered, waving a hand around dismissively.

“If I didn’t know my wife any better, I would say the same, but you and me both know that she’d agree with me.” The impish grin on his lips was enough to make Bakugo roll his eyes.

“Where is this place?” Denki didn’t fail to notice the way he changed the subject, but for concern of his own safety, he didn’t draw attention to it.

“It’s literally right there,” vermillion eyes landed on the building in front of him, a quaint shop tucked in between two office buildings. The outside was a remarkable shade of lavender, with a small chalk-board sign outside painted with bluebells woven between opening times.

“Oh.” A light tinkle of a bell rang out from the door as Denki pushed inside the shop, a quirk that wasn’t commonly seen with more modern establishments. Immediately upon entering the threshold into the store, Bakugo was pummelled with the overwhelmingly cloying scent of pollen.

Resisting the urge to cough out of a begrudging politeness, he looked around. It was a small place, with bouquets of all different colours and types jumping from the tables in a dazzling a bounty of delight. In the centre of the back wall protruded the front desk, attached to the left of which was a small glass case filled with sweet-looking pastries and cakes. There was a small table in front of it, lined with a chequered table cloth, and two beautifully crafted wooden chairs tucked underneath the table with care.

“Long time no see, Denki,” Bakugo’s attention snapped to the presence behind the counter, where you leaned on your elbows with an easy smile on your face. Muted pink blouse tucked into a high-waist black skirt partnered with a cute little bow wrapped underneath your collar of a similar colour and you were already beginning to remind Bakugo of someone he knew quite well. It looked like a uniform, but it was informal enough to appear flattering.

“(Y/N)! How have you been?” Denki cried, sauntering over to the counter with his arms thrown wide in the expectance of a hug. You laughed, accepting the gesture with little hesitation.

“You here to pick up your little birthday gift for Kyoka?” you questioned once pulling away, eyes darting over to Bakugo and narrowing for a second before quickly returning to the other costumer. He nodded exuberantly, bright beam on his face.

“Of course! I’m excited to see what you thought up,” you grinned with a small nod of acknowledgement.

“Great, I’ll be right back.” With that, you shuffled to a door behind the counter, swiftly stealing away to the small room at the back of the store.

“She has more flowers in there?” Bakugo muttered, brows furrowing. Denki hummed, leaning on the counter whilst idly tapping his cheek.

“Yep. Flowers everywhere here.” He only nodded, eyes returning back to his surroundings. In less than a minute you had returned, clasped in your hands a beautiful bouquet with the stalks wrapped in brown paper. All Bakugo could see was a mess of purple and white with an air of coordination that tied it together, but it was enough to make Denki squeal.

“Oh, that’s stunning! What flowers are they?” you smiled, placing down the bouquet on the counter in front of him.

“Well, Kyoka’s a simple lady, so I used purple irises as the centre piece-”

“That’s her favourite flower!” you snickered, rolling your eyes at the blonde’s words..

“Well, duh? Are you really surprised that I remembered?” you shook your head before continuing, “It’s hard to find colours that go well with purple without it looking too unconventional, so I complimented them with baby breaths and white jasmines, and magnolias in the middle to bring out a contrast in the yellow.” Denki was already pulling out his wallet before you had even finished.

“This is perfect, thank you so much! She’s gonna love them!” your smile turned smug.

“Of course she is, there’s no way I could disappoint a costumer,” Bakugo didn’t fail to notice the teasing coo in your voice, a proud glow on your face that he recognised was often replicated on his own expression, “will that be all?” Denki shook his head, handing you an indiscernible amount of money which you accepted before pushing half back. It seemed not even years on Denki was able to do simple math.

“Not all! I want some cake and my friend Katsuki here needs his own flowers!” Bakugo lurched forward from the rough shove from Denki, sending him a venomous glare with a small growl. Your eyes were amused as they landed on him, a smirk pulling on your lips.

“Hey, nice to meet you, Mr. Bakugo.” Bakugo wasn’t surprised you knew of him (being an incredibly successful pro hero and all) but the lilt to your voice as you drawled his name didn’t sit right, as if you were goading him in to ridicule.

“Likewise.” You delicately pushed aside Denki’s bouquet to fully face Bakugo, the former having already been distracted by the sweet treats in the case.

“What can I do for you?” He straightened his back, shoulders tensing. He didn’t exactly know what he needed, having only bought flowers once or twice before for his mum. It was an underlying itch of feeling out of place that brought his next words forth, an urge to leave as soon as he could.

“Roses, I guess. Red.” You snickered, and Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, “What?” You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Roses are pretty cliché, don’t you think?”

What.

Bakugo could feel the snarl that worked it’s way onto his face, a familiar tick of irritation welling up in his chest, only exacerbated by the mocking expression painted on your face.

“She’s right.” Denki called from his position crouched on the floor, gaze not even on him as he eagerly eyed a strawberry shortcake.

“Didn’t need your input, dumbass!” He snapped, face heating at the bemused look on your face. It wasn’t often he felt embarrassed, and it was even less common that Denki would have a part to play in it.

“I’m just saying it’s better just to let her have free reign, that’s what I do.” Bakugo considered the words of his friend for a moment, before letting out a begrudging sigh, eyebrow twitching as he turned back to you.

“Fine.” You tilted your head, leaning forward, similar to how his friend had stood earlier.

“So, why are you buying flowers?” Bakugo grunted, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his gaze.

“An apology gift. For my girlfriend.” You whistled, the noise pounding at the front of his skull.

“Damn, okay, how long have you guys been together?” Denki pulled out a chair, allowing Bakugo to sit down in front of the table as you pulled out a small notebook.

“Since just after high school,” he muttered, resting his chin on his palm as he fiddled with the end of the table cloth, “it was great at the start but now we seem to be arguing more and more.”

He shut his mouth. He wasn’t quite sure why he started to talk- it wasn’t like him to indulge a stranger in his life story. He bristled, resolve hardening.

“Why does it matter, anyway?” you hummed, looking around thoughtfully.

“Just trust the process. Describe this girl.”

“She would love this place.” Bakugo responded earnestly, a hollow laugh pushing past his lips as you nodded. It didn’t seem like much, but you got to work.

“Denki, pass me that bundle of tulips, please,” Denki nodded, obediently standing and pulling the tulips from one of the stands at the side of the room and pushing it towards you. You nodded your thanks, gaze returning back to Bakugo, who was watching you with a gaze eerily akin to suspicion.

“Look, this is gonna be a lot more awkward if you keep staring at me,” you grinned as he tutted, looking away.

“I want that strawberry shortcake,” Denki exclaimed once you had settled again. Bakugo resisted the urge to roll his eyes while you just smiled.

“Sure, let me get that for you,” you crouched down behind the glass case, “anything for you, Bakugo?”

“No.” he responded, eyes narrowing at the cheeky smirk Denki shot at him. You pulled out the cake, rested delicately on a china plate with raspberry patterns coiled around the edge.

“Let me give you a drink, at least,” you offered, moving to the back room without giving him a moment to respond, and quickly reappearing with a teacup and saucer, “I had some lavender tea brewing. It soothes anxiety,” you passed the tea alongside the cake to Denki, who brought it back to their table with a grateful nod.

Bakugo sighed as Denki placed the saucer down in front of him, a look of disdain on his face.

“Sugar’s on the table,” you called, snickering as you saw the small look of surprise on his face as he tasted the drink. Returning back to your work station, you fiddled with the tulips, taking some out and placing them in a glass vase. You moved out from behind the counter, flitting around the room and mulling over each flower.

Bakugo watched you with subtle interest, eyes narrowing when you shook your head or made a small noise of disdain. It was a fitting distraction from the loud mouthed Denki across from him, who was relentlessly chatting in between bites.

Seemingly having settled on several flowers, you moved back over to the tulips, weaving them together with pink and white bows in a way that Bakugo couldn’t begin to understand.

The explosive blonde tended to pride himself on his achievements- his ability to become skilled in anything and everything carrying him through his life. But apparently flower arranging was where he fell short, and the annoyance of this fact making his nerves tick.

It wasn’t clear how much time had passed until you were done, hands never relenting even for a second as you worked, but it was evident that your project was finished when you took a step back to admire the bouquet. Your eyes flashed to him for a second, scouring his face for approval.

Again, Bakugo didn’t really understand the big deal about flowers, but the passion in which you conducted yourself when producing them was something that he could respect. He stood, moving to get a closer look at what you had made.

“What’s in it?” you grinned, seemingly pleased at his fairly lackadaisical reaction.

“Well, I used pink tulips as the base, and then I complimented them with white carnations and freesia. I didn’t want to add a contrast because if this is an apology, I wanted it to be fairly low-key, but still pretty. Do you like it?” He nodded, listening to the way you huffed in pride.

“Cool! Since it’s your first time, and because I like you, it’s free of charge, but just this once,” you gave him a pointed look, as if you were expecting to see him again.

“Thank you, I’m sure she’ll love them.” You nodded in acknowledgement, wrapping both bouquets in a protective layer before handing them out. Denki appeared beside you, accepting the flowers with a large grin.

“I’ll see you later, (Y/N)! You’re coming, right?”

“Yep, I’ll see you then,” you turned to Bakugo, eyes flashing with something he couldn’t discern, “I’ll see you later, too.” He huffed out something similar to an agreement, still unsure of his standing within your views.

“Sure. Thanks again for the flowers.” Another grin.

“You’re welcome. Hope she likes them.”

“Me too.”

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skieswords · 3 years

Text

Pull Through Part 1

Warnings for this book: Mentions of depression, alcohol and drugs, abuse and self-harming behaviours. Please do not read if any of these things will affect you, I have plenty of other stories on my page that are free from potential triggers❤️

Summary: Alex’s little sister Becca, is Sunset Curve’s number 1 fan. After her 16th birthday, her relationship with the lead guitarist becomes questionable, and she’s left trying to decide between following her heart, and respecting her brother’s wishes. Starts in November 1994.

Friday afternoons were always dull. Everyone's eyes were glued to the clock on the wall, heads slumped in hands, with the back row asleep save for one person. The only person paying any attention to the lesson was Gina in the front row, her comically large glasses falling down her nose as she scribbled notes from the board furiously. Becca tapped her foot absentmindedly, drumming her fingers on the desk as she stared out of the window. Her thoughts were on the essay she'd been issued last period, that she had no idea where to even start with. Was it on Shakespeare? Or the flaws in capitalism? Oh wait- that was what Mr Malcolm had told her would get her suspended again. She was jerked out of her thoughts by the scraping of chairs on the floor, and rustling papers as the class packed up and made their way out of the door. She sighed and pushed back in her seat, slinging her bag over her shoulder and trying her hardest to slink out of the room. 'Don't see me, don't see me, don't see me.' She crossed her fingers and prayed silently, ducking behind a group of girls, but her attempt to leave unnoticed failed miserably. "Rebecca, hold on a moment please." Becca cringed at her full name and turned to face her math teacher, false grin planted, eyes wide and innocent. "I wanted to talk to you about your math homework- or more accurately, the absence of it?" With an internal groan and a brief eye roll, Becca tried to formulate an excuse in her head, but failed. "Can I give it to you on monday morning?" Mrs Jacob, the math teacher, sighed, but nodded, a grim expression on her face as she turned back to her desk, waving Becca away. Breathing out in relief, she legged it out of the classroom. The corridor was basically empty now, with only a handful of stragglers hanging around, either for detention, or waiting for extra credit opportunities.

"Hey stranger, you coming?" Reggie appeared in front of her, guitar case slung over his shoulder, and hands in his jean pockets. Becca grinned at him, and searched her pocket for her locker key. "Two secs, got to grab my stuff." Reggie followed her to her locker and laughed as she opened it, revealing at least half a foot of paper sitting in a heap at the bottom. Becca shrugged and reached in, pulling out her skateboard. "Homework?" She scowled at him, shoving some paper into her backpack carelessly, and zipping it shut. "Alex told me to ask." Becca groaned and reached in to the warzone once more, pulling out her math textbook, before slamming her locker shut and stalking down the hall, Reggie following closely behind. "Who's driving today?" She turned to face him as they walked down the front steps of the school, face falling at his expression. "No, I'll get the bus." Reggie grabbed her arm as she tried to walk away, dragging her back to his side and shrugging. " He's not that bad. He needs practice, his test is next week." Becca groaned loudly, but continued down the sidewalk to where her brother's beaten up 1993 mustang sat, one headlight cracked, and scratches covering the doors. Alex had been given the car for his 16th birthday, and Becca suspected she would get something similar for hers. Although god knows she'd take better care of it than Alex did- his could easily pass as being 10 years old, not 2. "Hey trouble." His voice came from the driver's seat, and Becca bent down to lean on the window frame, her face blank. "Crash and I'll kill you." Luke grinned up at her, that ridiculous smirk that hadn't changed since elementary school, and she reached through to pull his beanie off his head. His smirk turned into a scowl, and Becca laughed at him, walking around to the rear of the car. The trunk was already sitting open, the boys guitars and school bags dumped among the empty water bottles and crisp packets. Becca dropped her own belongings in and slammed the trunk shut, taking her seat in the back beside Reggie. Alex turned to face her, pushing his fringe off his face. "How was math?" Becca shrugged and pulled one knee up to her chest, looking out of the window. "Bex. Math?" She rolled her eyes at him and groaned, throwing her head back against the seat. "It was fine. I've got homework." Alex nodded and reached into the footwell, tossing a can of juice at her. "I'll help you with it tomorrow?" Becca smiled and cracked open her can, taking a gulp and kicking the back of Luke's seat. He turned and glared at her, grabbing her shoe and tugging her forward, causing juice to splash up onto her face. They launched into a game of tug of war with Becca's leg, until Reggie leaned forward, and interrupted, pulling Luke's hand off Becca. "Is Bobby coming over tonight?" Luke shrugged and and turned back to the wheel, the car shuddering to life a moment later. Becca put on her seat belt and crossed her arms. "Hold on boys. This could get messy." She caught Luke's eye in the mirror and winked at him as he gave her the finger, before resting her head back on the seat, and tapping her fingers to the rhythm in her head, on the windowpane. He noticed, and smirked to himself, reaching over to turn up the volume on the radio.

When they pulled up to Luke's house, Becca noticed his knuckles turn white, as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. Opening the door and pulling his seat forward to let Becca out, he walked toward the rear end of the car and opened the trunk, frowning slightly. "Hey Alex? Could you uh, take my guitar to Reggie's tonight?" Alex sighed and nodded, taking Luke's place in the driver seat. Becca walked past Luke, who slammed the trunk shut a little too hard, making her jump. "Sorry Bex. See you tonight?" Becca smiled, waving over her shoulder at him. He smirked and bit his bottom lip, nodding his head before turning on his heel, and heading into the house. Alex started driving back to their house, tapping his fingers to the beat of the song on the radio. Becca started humming along, and he cranked it up a bit, whistling the tune through his teeth as they drove through their neighbourhood. Alex and Becca's dad was a lawyer, and their mom was a doctor, so they lived in a very nice area. They constantly made jokes about how their incredibly academic parents, a lawyer and a doctor, produced two delinquents. The gay drummer of a rock band, and a skater daughter, who flunked all but two of her classes. It was clear they were still hoping for clones of themselves, through their ridiculous insistance that they be called Rebecca and Alexander, names that both siblings despised greatly. This, and the constant pressure about college. They'd given up on Alex, because he'd already been contacted by a number of schools, wanting him for their music program, and he'd made it very clear that was what he was going to do. However, Graham, their dad, was currently on Becca's back because she was failing math, reminding her daily that she'd never make it to medical school with her current grades. "Ready?" Alex turned the engine off and got out of the car, walking around to the trunk. Becca followed him, picking up her school bag, and reaching out for her skateboard. She'd just grabbed the edge when the front door opened, and Graham appeared. Alex smacked her hand, making her drop it, and pushed the trunk shut quickly, stepping away from the car. He placed a hand on Becca's shoulder and gave her a push, sending her inside. "Rebecca, good day?" Becca nodded, and ran past her dad, head down. Alex watched her go and resisted the urge to punch the eldest member of the Mercer family, before locking the car and following her in. He heard her bedroom door slam shut upstairs, and sighed internally. "Hey sweetheart, how was school?" Alex walked into the kitchen and dropped his keys on the work top, running a hand through his hair. "It was good, mom. It still okay if I take Bex over to Reggie's tonight?" Julia smiled softly and walked over to Alex, reaching up to stroke the hair off his face. He towered over her tiny frame, 6 foot of blonde hair, sarcastic comments, and brightly coloured t-shirts. "Rebecca should study. You can go, but she's behind in school." Alex rolled his eyes subtly and nodded. "She won't study if I leave her. If I take her with me she can sit with Reggie's mom?" Julia considered this, and glanced around with a worried expression. "I have a shift tonight, and your father's gone out for a bit. Leave now, and as long as your both back by 10, you can take her. Make sure she works." Alex smirked, and grabbed his keys, before kissing her swiftly on the cheek and running up the stairs.

Becca's room was a soft grey, with one orange wall that had a large desk leaning against it, littered with sheets of paper. A black acoustic guitar, with a light coating of dust, sat in the corner, a red electric on a stand beside it. Another empty stand sat nearby. A Sunset Curve flyer hung above her bed frame, pride of place. Her built in closet hung open, clothes spilling out over the floor, and more hanging on the chair of her desk. Paper was scattered across her bed, Becca sitting up in the middle of it all, chewing her pencil. Her light brown hair sat in a bun at the nape of her neck, tendrils falling around her face. A knock on the door made her look up, and a pair of bright blue eyes met her own, as Alex stepped through the doorframe. "Leaving for Reggie's in 5, you ready?" Becca grinned, jumping up and grabbing one of Alex's old hoodies from her closet. Slipping her feet into her converse, she looked up at her big brother, an innocent smile on her face. "Can you drop me off at the skate park?" Alex snorted and pointed to her school bag. "Not a chance. Grab that, I told mom you'd study." Becca rolled her eyes, but swung her backpack over her shoulder, throwing some of the paper from her bed into it. "Oh shit." Alex turned back to her with his eyebrows raised. Becca was pulling her glasses off her face, tucking the large black frames into her pocket. "Sorry. Now we can go." They headed out the door and down the stairs, Becca jumping on Alex's back when they reached the bottom. "Why don't you wear your glasses out? No-one minds them." Becca shrugged and rested her head on Alex's shoulder, only jumping down when they reached the car. "I dunno. They make me look dorky. Bobby's going tonight isn't he?" Alex nodded and turned the keys, the car giving a few shudders until it jumped to life with a roar. Becca groaned and threw her head against the head rest. "But he always flirts with me! It's so gross." With a surprised laugh and slight smirk, Alex started the well-known route to Reggie's. "He's been warned, but he tries to sleep with anything that moves." Becca raised her eyebrows silently, but snorted, and Alex realised what he said, his face flushing red with embarrassment and fear. "Uhhhh I mean, flirt. Yup. Totally didn't just make a sex joke to my baby sister." Becca laughed and punched his arm gently, kicking her feet up on the dash. "I'm not a baby- I'm sixteen in 4 days. And I'm only like a year younger than you." Alex rolled his eyes. "Maybe you need more help with math than we thought." Becca looked at him questioningly, as he turned left, away from Reggie's. "Got to check Luke's not still at home. His folks won't have taken him." Nodding, Becca started chewing her lip and looked out the window. Luke was the youngest of the band, only turning 17 a few months ago, and was the only one who couldn't drive yet. The sun was setting, the November chill drifting through the cracks in the car. When they reached Luke's house, the front porch light was on, and they could see into the living room. The Pattersons were all there, Luke's arms outstretched. They couldn't quite see his face, but by the looks of things, they were arguing again. Alex honked once, and Luke glanced out the window. He seemed to shout one last thing, before running out of the room appearing at the front door moments later, that ridiculous grey jacket thrown over his arm. As he stalked towards the car, Becca noticed his tearstreaked face, and felt something wrench in her chest. She clambered into the back seat without argument, pulling her bag with her. "Hey man, you alright?" Luke sniffed and rolled his eyes, nodding at Becca in the rearview. "Hey Bex." She didn't say anything, smiling weakly and watching his reflection in the wing mirror. He rubbed his eyes fiercely with his fists, and started to bite the little nails he did have, his eyes wraught with pain and anger. Becca wanted to say something, but didn't know what would make him feel better. "Hey guys, can we get ice cream?" She leaned through the gap and rested her elbows on the seats. Luke turned to look at her, his green eyes rimmed with red. They made brief eye contact, and she gave him a soft smile, tilting her head slightly towards him. "We have to get to Reggie's though..." Becca looked at Alex with puppy dog eyes, and Luke leant forward to join her, sticking out his bottom lip. "You two will be the death of me. Fine, but we're getting for everyone." Becca and Luke's fists connected, and Becca felt a shiver go down her spine as a deep chuckle erupted from Luke's throat. She sat back, and watched out of the window as Alex drove further and further away from Reggie's.

"We brought ice-cream!" Alex came barging through the door of Reggie's garage, where Bobby was in the corner tuning his guitar, and Reggie was sitting on the couch, feet on the coffee table. "Hey man, running late?" Luke came through after Alex, dumping his guitar case on top of the piano and starting to unpack it. Reggie sat up and leant towards the ice cream bag, picking a tub out. "I thought Bex was coming?" Alex turned round and looked about him in confusion, rolling his eyes with a smile when she came through the doors dramatically. "She is and she did. Reg is your mom in? Or should I chill in the loft?" Becca came strolling towards the boys, empty handed, school bag abandoned in the car. "Mom's in, you can choose." Bobby put down his guitar, ran his hands through his hair, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey gorgeous." Alex stepped in front of him, pushing him back gently. "Hey. She's still underage, still my sister, and still totally off limits." Becca laughed and walked over to the piano, leaving Bobby to groan at Alex's insistance that Becca would never date. "Hey, can I take this?" Luke looked down to her, and the pile of paper in her hand. "Uh sure, what's it for?" Becca shrugged and disappeared up the ladder, leaving Luke watching her with a raised eyebrow. But he didn't have long to ponder what she was doing, as Reggie started tuning his bass, and Bobby sat back on the couch, still pouting after Alex's telling off. Becca took her seat in the loft, settling into a beanbag with her stash of paper. The loft was small, but she hung out here most nights of the week, so she'd made it comfy. One wall had a few shelves on it, with her favourite books and a few blankets stacked on them. A large stack of Sunset Curve CD cases were piled up in the corner, t-shirt designs crammed in a box next to them. And in another corner, tucked behind her beanbag, was her guitar. Becca unclipped the case and slipped the strap over her head, strumming quietly. The boys made enough noise that they wouldn't be able to hear her in the loft, but she was careful anyways. It was a secret, that she played. Alex knew the black Martin was a gift from someone, so just presumed his little sister was too polite to give it back, or sell it. The electric was Luke's, left there years ago, and never retrieved. She adored the beaten up Fender Reggie's mom had given her when she was 12, and didn't have any plans to exchange it. It was covered in stickers, and she'd re-strung it so many times the tuning pegs were worn. There was an entire corner dedicated to vans stickers, collected from the 4 billion pairs Luke seemed to own. Becca and her guitar had been through everything together. She'd fought with her dad just after Alex's birthday last year, and after ignoring her for a week, she'd found a gorgeous black Martin resting on her bed. It remained untouched, as she felt like it would be an insult to Reggie if she accepted it. Besides, her old one was perfectly broken in, and felt familiar and heavy in her hand. She noticed the floor of the loft was vibrating beneath her, Luke's chords biting through the air forcefully. He was clearly upset. Becca sighed, slipped her glasses on, and picked up the sheets of paper in front of her, scribbling furiously.

And you use your pain 'Cause it makes you you Though I wish I could hold you through it

She picked through a couple of chords gently, frowning when she couldn't quite work it out. It must've been hours, because the boys had stopped playing. Tucking her guitar back into it's hiding place, Becca reached for a notebook sitting on the shelf, and pulled it into her lap, rewriting the words next to some verses she'd come up with in the past. "Hey Bex, Alex wants to go, you ready?" Becca jumped at the sound of Luke's voice, scrambling to hide the sheets of paper sitting in her lap. She must have lost track of time, or reality, because the garage was silent, and Luke's watch said it was 9.30. "Uh, yeh, two seconds." She stuffed it into her hoodie pocket, and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Nice glasses." Becca's eyes widened, and she pulled the offending articles off her face, stuffing them in her pocket alongside her music . Luke came all the way up the ladder, and crouched opposite her, looking over the various sheets of paper. An orange notebook lay open on the floor, and he picked it up, scanning the page. "Damn, Bex, you write?" Becca jumped up and grabbed the book, dropping it onto the beanbag and sitting back down. "No. I just get bored listening to your guys stuff, it's poems and stuff for school." Luke appeared to be holding back a laugh, and was looking at her in utter disbelief. He knew she was lying through her teeth, but decided not to say anything, choosing to sit cross legged and continue flicking through the assortment of pages laying on the floor. Becca watched anxiously, and started putting stuff away, making sure her notebook was tucked away safely on the shelf where he couldn't see. "Some of these poems are really good. You should try putting them to music." Becca snorted and snatched the sheets out of his hand. "Fat chance, I don't sing, and I don't play." Luke appeared skeptical, but he stayed silent, frowning slightly as he started to pile up the loose paper. "Anyway, as I was saying, your brother wants to go. And I'm staying with you guys tonight." Becca nodded, and climbed to her feet, brushing down her jeans. Luke started climbing down the ladder, smirking up at her. She rolled her eyes, and followed him down, hugging Reggie before walking out to the car behind all the guys. Bobby took the front, leaving Luke and Becca in the backseat together. It wasn't late, but she felt her eyelids drooping as the car purred along the darkened streets, and with the boys all totally silent, it didn't take long for her to drop off to sleep. Luke glanced down at her head on his shoulder and smiled softly. His jacket was sitting in his lap, and he gently swung it over her, before turning his head to face out the window, watching the houses in Bobby's neighbourhood flit by. When they reached his house, he turned to say goodnight to Luke and Becca, frowning when he found them both asleep, Luke's head now resting on top of Becca's. Alex turned round, and rolled his eyes, giving Bobby a light shove to get him out of the car. "Sorry dude, I gotta have her home by 10." Bobby sighed, but fist bumped Alex and got out. "Thanks for the lift bro, catch you later." Alex waved at him and drove off, heading over three neighbourhoods to his place. The driveway was dark, and he let out a disappointed sigh as he realised his dad was still out. Oh well, at least they could go in undisturbed. Luke apparently was awake, sitting up gently so as to not disturb Becca. "Wake her if you want, she'll fall straight back asleep when she gets upstairs. "Nah I feel bad. Want me to carry her up?" Alex raised his eyebrows but shrugged, pulling his chair forward to let them out. Luke slipped one arm under Becca's knees, and pulled her head into his chest gently, letting it fall onto him as he climbed out of the car. His jacket still draped over her, he carried her through the door, slipping his shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. "Where's her room again?" Alex locked the front door and came up the stairs behind them, his fluorescent pink socks padding quietly on the cream carpet. "Opposite mine, up the stairs." Luke nodded and turned left on the landing, knocking her door open with his knee. "Liar." He scoffed when he saw the silhouettes of the guitars in the corner, and set her down on the bed gently, pulling a blanket over her. Curiousity got the better of him, and with a glance at her sleeping form, he couldn't help but move to the desk in the corner, picking up a couple of the loose sheets sitting there. Pages and pages of writing stared back at him, clearly the work of an extremely talented writer. He peered over his shoulder at her, smiling when he caught sight of the moon lighting up her face. "Hey man, you coming?" Alex appeared at the door, jeans swapped for a pair of sweats and a sunset curve t-shirt. Luke nodded, and grabbed his jacket off the end of Becca's bed before pulling her bedroom door closed gently, and walking past Alex to his room. Alex came into his little sister's bedroom, and pulled off her shoes gently, closing her curtains so she wouldn't be woken up too early. If dad was out, chances are he wouldn't be back til tomorrow evening. She deserved some extra rest. Becca listened as the door clicked shut, and smiled to herself. The weak scent of Luke's cheap ass cologne, and something that was unarguably boy, remained on her shirt, and she breathed it in, closing her eyes, and drifting back off to sleep.

89 notes · View notes

shipersanonymous · 3 years

Text

One Hit West

Chapter 7

Author’s Note

Ok so like its late (I’m sorry) but its here, I pray its not underwhelming. Its quite a nasty cliffhanger so I’m sorry about that. And now I’ll leave you to it.

xoxo

…………………...

“Welcome home honey.” Barry says as he looks at her over his shoulder. She smiles sweetly, relieved to be back home. Where she belongs.

She walks over to Barry who tilts his head up to give her full access to his waiting lips. She leans over and pecks him, her high pony falling to the side. On his lap, Nora closes her eyes behind her toddler fingers and chuckles as she says:

“Ewwwww.”

The two can’t help but laugh and turn their attention onto her with mischievous (yet loved filled – always love filled) eyes.

“What’s so funny little missy?” Iris asks and Nora shyly replies:

“Noooottthhhiiinnnggg?”

“Mm I don’t know mama bear. I don’t think this cute little cub is telling the truth.” Barry plays along.

“I think you’re right papa bear. What should we do with her?”

Barry pretends to think really hard then answers:

“I think… we should… TICKLE IT OUT OF HER!”

“Daddy no!” Nora yells in-between laughs as both her parents attack her with tickles, filling the house with their favourite sound, the sound of her laughter.

That’s the scene Iris has dreamed about for years. Coming home to Barry and Nora, hearing her baby laugh, hearing her call him “daddy”, parenting with the man she loves.

“Mommy, you’re home!” Nora yells excitedly and the look of dissapointment in Barry’s eyes slams Iris right back into her reality. The two people looking back at her have no idea of the secret she carries.

And she plans to keep it that way.

At least until she’s sure she can trust him.

Barry stands, carrying Nora in his arms and Iris’s heart skips a beat when Nora leans her head into his shoulder and smiles.

“Thank you mommy.” She says and Iris smiles, trying to hide the hurricane of emotions rattling through her.

Confusion.

Relief.

Anxiety.

Happiness.

All of them rambling into each other inside her like waves during a storm.

“Thank you for what baby?” she asks.

“For my birthday present! I get to call Barry Allen, uncle Barry!”

Barry chuckles.

“Am I the best birthday present ever?” he asks her with squinted eyes and she nods with a bright smile on her face.

“Prove it,” he challenges.

“How?” she asks, her little eyes widening behind her glasses.

“Mmmm…give me a kiss.” Barry answers, turning his cheek towards her. Nora pecks her father without hesitation and Barry closes his eyes dramatically.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“That was the best kiss I’ve ever gotten.” He says and she chuckles.

“What you don’t believe me? I’ll prove it.” he says and plants a kiss on her cheek.

“Do you believe me now?” he asks and plants one on her other cheek.

“How bout now?” this one is on her forehead.

Each kiss sparks another round of laughter from the little girl and Iris’s heart warms up, it’s been a while since she last saw her daughter this happy and care free. For a moment, a split second, Iris considers giving in. She considers telling him the truth. She considers apologising and making her family work.

Then flashes of her baby boy’s innocent little face breeze through her mind and her broken heart cries louder.

She can’t give in.

“Alright baby, come on. Time to go home.” She says with a smile.

“Awwww. But you just got here. Plus, uncle Barry and I…” Nora stops mid sentence and the blank look in her eyes sends Iris into autopilot.

“Barry, lay her down. Keep her head raised.”

No sooner had she finished giving the instruction, Nora’s eyes rolled back and she began to convulse. To Iris’s surprise Barry was calm in that moment he laid Nora down on her side and kept her head up.

“Aren’t you gonna call 911?” he asks when he notices that she’s simply still, looking down as their daughter seizes. Iris doesn’t answer, she simply kneels down in front of him and watches.

Her heart constricts and her eyes fill with tears that she struggles with all her might to hold back. She can’t call the hospital, not without risking exposing her daughter. All she can do is watch and helplessly wait for Nora’s fit to end.

In these moments, she feels like a complete failure. A mother powerless to help her child. Without the ability to take her baby’s pain away. It shatters her, and still all she can do is watch.

[Barry]

He’s never seen her look so defeated.

As he leans against the wall next to Nora’s bedroom door, Barry can’t shake the depression he saw in her eyes. He’s never seen her stare look so hopeless.

The ruffling of sheets sparks his attention and he stands back up and peers into the room. Iris leans in and gives their daughter a kiss on the head. After the seizure, Nora passed out and Iris, almost as if possessed, picked her up out of Barry’s arms and took her to her bedroom. She’s been in there for almost half an hour and every so often a sigh of exhaustion echo’s from inside the dark room.

Barry’s heart hurts. This seems almost routine. How long has it been going on for? Has she had to endure all this on her own?

As unbelievable as it may be, a wave of guilt flows through him. He should have been there to help her in moments like these. Maybe she wouldn’t have been so tired. Maybe the pained look of helplessness wouldn’t have tainted her eyes like it had just a few moments ago. If only he’d been there to bare the load with her.

If only he knew.

Iris walks out of the room looking as lifeless as she had when she walked in with their daughter in her arms. She’s about to walk past him without so much as nod in his direction when Barry holds onto her upper arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Can we talk?” he asks, concerned about her state of mind.

“She’s not yours Barry.” She says simply, like a sleepwalker trapped in a dream.

He stops short, her denial only conforming his suspicions. He let’s out an incredulous breath.

“That just told me that she is.”

Iris turns to him annoyed, her exhaustion clear in her sigh.

“Barry, just stop…”

“No Iris. You stop it. Stop lying to me. You know how you gave yourself away? When I said let’s talk, I wanted to know if you’re OK cause our daughter just had a seizure and you looked like someone hit you in the gut with car. Your automatic assumption that I’d want to confront you about whether or not she’s mine, tells me that you’re trying to keep up a lie.”

Iris looks up at him startled, like a deer caught in headlights and Barry feels his heart beat out a painful note. It is true.

Nora is his daughter.

She has to be.

He decides to push his luck in hopes that she’ll break and tell him the truth.

“After the day I spent with her, I wouldn’t even need a DNA test to know that I’m her father Iris. She’s an exact replica of the both of us. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I saw you in her smile, her kindness, her sense of humour. I saw me in her eyes, her mind, her incredible ability to dream. I felt a connection with her Iris, something I can’t explain. So you can lie to me all you want. I know she’s mine.”

“She’s…not,” Iris persists with her lie, swallowing down the tears he can see in her eyes. Barry struggles to hold back his own tears as he whispers:

“Then why did you name her Nora?”

Iris’s eyes widen and for the second time in the span of five minutes she looks like someone who’s been caught red handed.

“Why Iris? Why did you name your daughter after my mother if she’s not mine? The math adds up, her features and personality are like neon signs and she has my mother’s name, do you really expect me to believe she’s not my daughter? Our daughter? After all that?”

Her eyes meet his with a plea and he softens his attack.

“I’m sorry I…”

Before he can finish talking she turns around and speed walks into her room, slamming the door behind her. Barry stares at the empty hallway uncertain how to feel. Iris’s behaviour seemed to have given him the confirmation he wanted.

She’s mine.

She has to be mine.

So why does he feel so broken?

[Iris]

She flops onto her bed expressionless and a split second later, tears stream down her face. It’s been a while since her last cry but she can’t help it.

He knows. He can’t know!

She feels like a double failure. First she couldn’t help her daughter with her seizure and now she can’t protect her either. She feels a scream bubbling up the back of her throat and hides her face in a pillow to let it out. She wants to choke on the sound. She wants the pillow to strangle the air out of her and just take her away.

Nora.

Her baby’s name pops into her head and suddenly she remembers what’s kept her going all these years. Despite the trauma and the heartache and the difficulties. Her baby’s smile, her laugh, the warmth of her hug. All that and more are like fuel to Iris. They keep her going further.

So the thought of having her baby snatched away from her….

The tears stream down her cheeks with increased vigour and the sobs that shake through her become more violent. She clutches at her heart as the familiar sting of loss pierces through her. Iris drops onto her side and curls into the fetal position.

Can I please just wake up from this nightmare.

She begs in her mind as her cries lull her to sleep. Exhausted, her eyes droop closed and she drifts off, hiccupping silently…

The alarm rang and she opened her sleep heavy eyes, blinking away the slight sting of exhaustion. As her body slowly woke up, the aches and pains worked their way through her limbs. The creaky old couch she’d been using as a bed squealed in protest as she got up and tried to work some of the stiffness from her neck.

Then the nausea hit.

Her eyes shot open and Iris ran to the bathroom with her hand firmly pressed over her mouth.

Morning sickness was a bitch.

Out of breath and partially shaky, she flushed out last nights dinner and made her way back to the staff break room (that she’s been using as a bedroom) to get her tooth brush from her suitcase. She was only on her second month and not really sure how much more of this morning routine she could handle. Sleeping on an old couch was miserable enough without the sudden sprints to the bathroom at six in the morning.

With her teeth brushed, she then used a face towel and a small bucket of lukewarm water to freshen up as best as she could before heading out to open the café. As she made herself busy, cleaning out the coffee machine, the bell above the door rang and she turned around, expecting to see her colleagues but was met instead with the suspicious sight of four men in suits and sunglasses.

Being the daughter of a (then) cop, being skilled at detecting danger was basically a calling and all her inner buzzers were going off.

“I’m sorry gentleman but we’re not open yet.” She explains but that bit of information is received as invalid.

Three of the men formed a straight line and the fourth, supposedly the leader, stepped forward.

“Iris West?” he asked and for a minute she was hesitant to answer but saw no way out so decided to buy herself some time.

“Who’s asking?” she tried on her bravest tone, praying to God that someone would walk in and interrupt this unwanted meeting. In her mind all she can think about is keeping her babies safe.

“You need to come with us.” He says taking a step forward and she takes a step back, despite the counter between them.

“And why is that?”

“That’s classified information.”

She let’s out a nervous chuckle.

“Considering you want me to leave my work place during my shift with four complete strangers, I think the least you can do is tell me why.”

“I’m sorry Ms West but my orders were clear. Now you can cooperate or we can force you to cooperate. Either way, you’re leaving with us.”

The men began to approach and she held out her hands to halt them.

“OK, OK. I’ll go. Just let me get my stuff ready.” She succumbed and they stopped in their tracks and gave her room to walk and get to her room in the back. Surprisingly enough, neither of them followed her in.

Idiots.

She thought as she made her way to the bathroom and forced the miniscule window opened. It was wide enough for her to slip out of so she used all her strength to climb out of it into freedom.

She landed in an empty alley behind the building with a soft thump and bent knees. A quick glance around told her she was clear and that’s when she made a break for it, running as fast her legs would let her.

But she didn’t make it very far.

Strong hands pulled her into stronger arms just as she stepped out of the alley into the street. Her mouth and nose were covered before she could scream and she felt a sting on her neck just before she slipped out of consciousness.

Needles.

IV drips.

Chemicals.

Pain.

Needles.

IV drips.

Chemicals.

Pain.

Needles.

IV….

A familiar face.

She screams.

[Barry]

He stands frozen in the hallway for what feels like an eternity and as reality begins to sink in he turns his head towards Nora’s bedroom.

He’s a father. He’s been a father for the past five years and he didn’t know it.

The shame, the betrayal, the fear of what his little girl might think about him all cut through him like a knife. Who does she think he is? What does she think happened? What does she think is the reason why he hasn’t been with her and her mother all this time?

He takes shaky breaths as he walks towards her room. Slow steps that contrast against his rapid beating heart. At the door, he hesitates. Going in feels like crossing a life changing barrier into a whole new world of experiences.

Barry wants to go in but something holds him back. Doubt. He can feel it in his heart and in his mind he knows that she is his daughter. Yet he can’t trust his own instincts because the last time he was led by intuition he got his heart broken. The memory of that pain, of losing the woman he loved (loves), plants a seedling of fear in his confident heart.

He could never survive losing Nora. Not after forming a bond with her and seeing her as a daughter. That’s a pain that might destroy him once and for all.

Despite the uncertainty and the possibility of heartbreak, his hand still itches to caress her to sleep. His arms still want to hold her and protect her. His heart still wants to hear her call him “dad”.

Deciding to take that leap, he pushes his fears aside and decides to take that leap. Even if she turns out not to be his, even if he loses more than he gains, even if he’ll never see her again after this, he wants to at least try.

He wants to believe for five minutes that the incredible little girl he spent the day with is half of him and half of his soul mate. Even if it only lasts a second, he wants to look at her with a father’s eyes and claim responsibility for her existence.

He wants a taste of paternal pride, no matter how selfish that wish may be.

As he’s about to take that leap, his heart stops, his hairs stand on end, his eyes widen, his blood freezes and his breath gets caught in his throat.

#fanfiction #fanfic #flash fanfiction #The Flash #iris west #barry allen #barry and iris #Nora West-Allen #west-allen #One Hit West

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Ms. California - Chapter Two (Crygi) - Mik

AN: I have way too much free time on my hands and absolutely no drive to do my college coursework with everything that’s going on because of COVID-19, so here’s chapter two. Feedback is greatly appreciated, especially since it’s my first fic! :-) Hope you all enjoy!

Summary: Crystal moves to Los Angeles from Missouri and meets GiGi Goode, captain of the varsity cheer squad. Queue the 1990s lesbian high school AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

Crystal elects to walk home after school, waving goodbye to Jackie and Jan as they drive past her on the sidewalk. She needs time to think; to think about what to say to GiGi, to think about what Jackie told her, to think about her own intentions. She wonders when she should call, and what she should do if someone other than GiGi picks up the phone. Calling immediately after arriving home would be too soon, Crystal decides. Calling between the hours of five and six wouldn’t work either, she thinks, because most people are eating dinner. So, she decides to call at seven. Crystal doesn’t understand why she’s overthinking this. It’s a phone call - it’s not like she’s never made a call to a friend’s house before.

But, Jackie did say that GiGi might have given Crystal her number on the premise of setting up a date. It all feels very overwhelming to Crystal; a few boys she considered friends were interested in her back home, and every time she found out about it, she would cease contact. Their interest made her uncomfortable, so why didn’t she feel like that about GiGi? Shouldn’t she feel the same level of discomfort towards the situation? Maybe it’s because Crystal doesn’t know for sure that GiGi is into her like that - GiGi could just want a friend in art class, but be too concerned with her self-image to hang out with Crystal at school. The strangest thing about the situation, however, is that even if it was a date, Crystal realizes she still wants to go hang out with GiGi. She tells herself it’s because she can always just say she didn’t know, and that she just wants to stay friends. That leads her back to square one: why doesn’t the idea of GiGi liking her make her uncomfortable?

She arrives home at three thirty. Both of her parents are still at work, so she pulls her house key out of her backpack and unlocks the door. She’s somewhat thankful that both of her parents are gone; as close as she is with them, she needs space to think. And aside from that, like most of the people from her hometown, her parents aren’t wildly accepting of gay people. Thankfully, there is one person she knows she can get her thoughts out to.

Crystal walks up the stairs and opens the door to her bedroom. It’s still filled with boxes yet to be unpacked, and her walls are a pasty yellow color; the previous inhabitant clearly didn’t have much of an eye for interior design. She knows she needs to unpack to make the room feel like home, but she hasn’t been able to bring herself to do much other than tack up a few pictures of her best friends to her wall and place her white bedspread - adorned with geometric shapes and squiggles - on her mattress.

She grabs the bright purple cordless phone her parents gifted her for her eighteenth birthday and flops down onto her bed. She begins dialing her best friend’s number. She has it memorized; she’s been calling her every day since she moved.

“Hello?” Crystal recognizes her best friend’s light, airy voice on the other side of the line.

“Hey, Heidi!” Crystal smiles.

“Hey, girl! How are you?”

“Good! Well, for the most part, I’m good. I miss you!” Crystal says.

“I miss you too! School sucks without you, there’s nobody to pass notes with in math anymore,” Heidi jokes.

“I wish I was back home,” Crystal mutters. “Everything is weird here and I feel so out of my element.”

“What’s going on, girl?” Heidi asks.

“Oh… I don’t know. You know Jackie, my friend from art that I told you about?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, she told me she has a girlfriend -”

“She has a girlfriend?! As in, she’s gay?!” Heidi interrupts.

“Yeah, but that’s not really the point, I mean, I don’t care about that. Anyways,” Crystal continues, “she was telling me about how her girlfriend is on the cheer team with GiGi, the one that helped me find my art class.”

“Okay, yeah…” Heidi says curiously.

“Well, GiGi is like, apparently not just into guys, she’s into girls.”

“Is that all?” Heidi asks.

“Well, no, not really…” Crystal trails off.

“What is it?”

“Uh, Jackie seems to think that GiGi thinks I asked her on a date,” Crystal explains.

“Seriously?! Did you?! Oh my lord!” Heidi exclaims.

“No, I definitely did not!” Crystal counters, defending herself. “I asked if she wanted to eat lunch with me, and she said no because she’s popular or whatever. But then, she was like, ‘We should hang out tomorrow, ask Jackie for my number’”, Crystal mimics GiGi’s somewhat monotone voice.

“And you did?”

“And I did,” Crystal confirms. “So now, I guess I might be going on a maybe-date with the head cheerleader tomorrow.”

“So, you’re gay now?” Heidi questions. Crystal knows that she doesn’t mean anything rude by it, but she can’t help but roll her eyes.

“No, I’m not. I just want to be her friend. I think she’s cool. She’s kind of an enigma - she’s this cold, popular cheer girl, she’s in advanced art, she dresses like a supermodel - and she looks like one - and she’s gay.”

“She sounds interesting,” Heidi comments.

“Right?! This is why I’m feeling perplexed. I don’t know for a fact that it’s a date, and I don’t think I’ll know if it is until it’s too late, but I really want to go. Like, even if it’s a date, I want to go and then just try to be friends?” Crystal says, unsure of herself.

“Okay, yeah, that’s… something.”

“Yep,” sighs Crystal. “You think I should go?”

“If you want to,” Heidi responds passively, “but girl, it sounds like you’re infatuated with her - you barely know her and you’re going on and on about her.”

“I’m not, I’m just… interested.”

“Whatever you say, Crys, whatever you say.”

Crystal hangs up the phone, somewhat frustrated with Heidi. She needed clarity, not more confusion. Was she infatuated with GiGi? No, infatuation implied some level of attraction, and Crystal was not attracted to girls.

Crystal feels like she’s trying to convince herself of something now. She’d said some variation of “I’m not gay” five times in less than three hours, both to herself and to other people.

Crystal tries to take her mind off of the situation by doing homework. That’s how she knows she’s stressed - she usually saves homework for six in the morning before she leaves for school. Procrastination is her modus operandi; now she’s just procrastinating on something else.

She’s writing an English essay in her living room when she hears her garage door open - her mom must be home. Crystal puts down her pencil and stands up from the table, ready to help her mom make dinner before her dad gets home.

“Hi mom!” Crystal greets her as she walks in the door.

“Hey sweetie,” her mom hugs her, “How was school today?

“It was fine,” Crystal says, “Nothing spectacular, but it was a good day!”

“Well, fine is better than bad!” Crystal’s mom shares her daughter’s positivity. “Ready to help with dinner?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Crystal grins, following her mom into the kitchen.

Crystal loves cooking - she’s not very good at it, but it’s fun. It’s always been her and her mom’s “thing”.

Tonight, they’re making chicken tacos and grilled veggies. Crystal is in charge of chopping up the carrots and bell peppers - a difficult task to complicate.

Crystal gets lost in her own thoughts as she chops and slices. She looks at her mother - a spitting image of herself. It’s like looking in a mirror that ages you twenty five years, Crystal thinks to herself. Her mom has the same long, dark, curly hair and thick eyebrows. They both have chocolate-brown eyes and the same goofy smile. They’re even the same height, both standing just above 5’5. They’re practically the same person - and Crystal is fine with that. Her mom is her favorite person, her best friend (though she’d never tell Heidi that), and her role model..

That’s why she decides to test the waters with the GiGi situation, struggling to push her thoughts about the younger girl out of her head.

“So,” Crystal begins, “I think I’m going to hang out with a friend tomorrow night.”

Her mom turns away from the stove, shifting to look at Crystal from across the small kitchen. “Oh honey, that’s wonderful! You’re making friends already!”

“Yeah, I am,” Crystal tentatively starts. “Well…”

“Well what?” her mom asks, sensing the hesitancy in her voice.

“I don’t know. I think the friend I’m hanging out with might think it’s a date, or something,” Crystal explains.

“A date!” her mom beams. “Is he cute? Do you like him?”

“Um…” Crystal pauses, unsure of what to say next. She could tell her GiGi is a girl - it would take three seconds. She plays the conversation in her head, and it doesn’t go well. “No, I don’t think so. Not like that at least. But as a friend, they’re fascinating.”

“Hm. Are you still going to hang out with him?”

“Yeah, I think so - I don’t know, what would you do?” she asks.

“I’d hang out with him,” her mom says decidedly as she spins back around to continue cooking the chicken.

“Yeah?” Crystal questions.

“I mean, your dad and I were friends before we fell in love,” Crystal can hear the smile in her mom’s voice. Crystal feigns a throwing up noise, eliciting a loud laugh from her mother. “How old are you again?”

Crystal giggles in response. “I don’t think it’s that kind of situation, mom. I don’t know.”

“Either way, honey, I don’t think it could hurt. Put your feelers out there! You might have a fun time as friends, or maybe,” she turns around again, and wiggles her eyebrows, “you’ll realize he’s Mr. Right.”

Crystal giggles and rolls her eyes at her mom.

They continue cooking, making small talk about her mom’s day at work - she’s an elementary school teacher - or what classes Crystal hates - calculus, physics, and economics. They finish cooking around six, and her dad arrives home almost immediately after.

“Hey dad,” Crystal smiles, greeting him with a hug.

“Hi,” he greets her as he moves to kiss her mom on the cheek. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” Crystal responds, “What about yours?”

“Same old, same old,” he shrugs. Crystal is close with her dad - not as close as she is with her mom, but close nonetheless. He’s quiet compared to the two women he lives with, but his silence is kind and warm.

“Crystal has a date!” her mom blurts, jokingly.

“Mom, oh my god!” Crystal groans. She looks at her dad with an annoyed expression. “It’s not a date. We’re hanging out - as friends.”

Her dad guffaws as Crystal sticks her tongue out at her mom, and lets out a snort when her mom sticks her tongue out back at her.

“Well, I’m hungry,” her dad claps his hands. “What’s for dinner?”

The family settles down shortly after, falling into a comfortable silence as they eat. The tacos, in Crystal’s opinion, are divine. The three of them all but shovel the food down.

“Dinner was amazing - thank you both,” Crystal’s dad stands, clearing the plates off of the table.

“It was all Crystal,” her mom jokes.

“Well, I’m on dish duty tonight,” her dad says. “Great,” Crystal says. “I need to make a phone call, like right now.” It’s nearing seven thirty, and if it gets to be too late, Crystal worries GiGi will think she forgot or won’t pick up because she’s busy.

“Calling your date, Crys?” her dad pokes fun at her affectionately.

“Maybe I am,” she turns and walks upstairs.

Crystal inhales and exhales ten times in a row, trying to calm her nerves as she paces around her crowded little room. She’s staring at the piece of paper she wrote down GiGi’s number on like it’s going to burst into flames at any given moment. She bites her bottom lip, inhales deeply once more, and picks up the phone. Her fingers clammily press into the keypad, slowly but surely. Crystal puts the phone to her ear, hearing the dial tone. The anticipation is killing her - she begins counting the seconds it takes for GiGi to answer.

She’s terrified.

One.

What if someone else picks up?

Two.

What if this is a huge joke?

Three.

Why would she even want to hang out with me?

Four.

Let alone date me…

Five.

Why do I want her to want this to be a date?

Six.

This is too much.

Seven.

“Hello?” GiGi’s voice rings through the line.

Crystal hangs up suddenly, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She curses herself silently - what was that about? She couldn’t call back now, and she definitely couldn’t count on hanging out with GiGi anymore after that move.

And then her phone rings.

“I GOT IT!” Crystal screams, hoping her parents don’t pick up the phone before she can collect herself. She lets it ring four times, and then picks up, still pacing.

“Hello?”

“Hi… Crystal?” GiGi asks.

Crystal nods her head before realizing GiGi can’t actually see her.

“Yep! It’s me, Crystal,” she stammers. She can feel her face turning bright red.

“How’s your night going?” GiGi asks, making small talk.

“Oh, good. I did homework and made dinner with my mom, nothing much. How’s yours?”

“Good,” GiGi says, “I just got home from cheer practice a few minutes ago.”

An image of GiGi wearing her cheer uniform - the little skirt and tight crop top - floods her mind. Her face heats up, and she tries to push the thought away.

“Good timing, I’m glad I didn’t call earlier” Crystal remarks. “How was cheer practice?”

“It was fun. Coach is cracking down on us pretty hard, but I guess that’s to be expected.”

The line goes silent. Crystal counts to herself again - the two remain speechless for fifteen seconds until Crystal finds her voice.

“So, Friday? Tomorrow?”

“What about Friday?” GiGi counters coyly.

Crystal takes the opportunity to make a joke.“Come on. Don’t play dumb, please,” she says the pharse in the same, high-pitched voice GiGi used earlier that afternoon.

“Very funny,” GiGi giggles. “But seriously, what about tomorrow?”

GiGi clearly wants Crystal to initiate the discussion and Crystal realizes that the cheerleader may be just as nervous as she is.

That thought calms her - kind of.

“Um, do you wanna hang out?” Crystal questions, her breath hitching in her throat.

GiGi takes a moment to respond - she says yes, resoundingly - and Crystal almost audibly sighs with relief.

“I can pick you up at five, if that works for you?” GiGi says.

“Yeah,” Crystal replies, thankful that the blonde can’t see what Crystal is sure is a huge, dorky smile on her face, “that sounds perfect.”

“Are you a fan of sushi?” GiGi asks.

“I’ve never had it,” Crystal admits.

“You’ve never had sushi?!” GiGi sounds shocked. “Well, that’s that, then! We’ll get sushi.”

“I can’t wait,” Crystal tries to keep the excitement in her voice to a minimum.

“See you tomorrow, Crystal.”

“Bye, GiGi!”

Crystal hangs up the phone, staring down at her hands. She should not have butterflies in her stomach right now - but there they are, fluttering around anyways, making Crystal feel like a hopeless mess.

Maybe she was infatuated with GiGi, afterall. But that didn’t make her gay or anything. She admires GiGi because she’s pretty, because she’s nice (sometimes), because she’s popular, because she has the body of a goddess…

Crystal exhales, falling face down onto her bed. “What am I doing?” she wonders aloud to herself.

Crystal thinks she’s answered her own question. It’s Friday morning and Crystal is waiting for Jackie and Jan to pick her up. She sits on her porch steps, pondering last night’s conversation with GiGi - more specifically, her feelings about said conversation.

She’s attracted to a girl.

She’s never even been attracted to a boy. How is that supposed to work? She feels completely and utterly lost. She doesn’t have any issues with gay people, but she admits to herself that being gay was a far-off, foreign concept; Crystal thought gay people were bad punch lines, characters in movies, lessons to learn from in church - they never actually existed.

Well, until she met Jackie. And Jan. And GiGi.

Crystal sees Jackie’s car - a red Volkswagen - pull up into her driveway. She stands up from the porch and makes her way over, opening the back door. The sound of Ani DiFranco and Jan fill her ears - Crystal finds out quickly that Jan’s a theatre kid, so she loves singing, and that Jackie is obsessed with any and all queer female musicians. The melody of voices that she’s hearing is the result.

“Hey guys!” Crystal says, smiling.

“Hey!” they say in unison, turning down the radio.

“So, I hear a certain someone was given the number of one of my squad sisters?” Jan raises her eyebrows expectantly at Crystal.

Crystal is shooting daggers into the back of Jackie’s head; she figured Jackie would tell Jan, but now she’s embarrassed.

“Yeah…” Crystal trails off.

“And? What happened?!” Jan exclaims. She’s excitable; Crystal would usually admire her exuberance, but right now, it’s overwhelming.

“We’re getting sushi tonight.”

“Oh, it’s a date-date,” Jan muses. “Jackie says you’re not into girls?”

“Um…” Crystal smacks her lips.

“What do you mean, “um”? You told me you weren’t gay yesterday!” Jackie jumps in.

“I don’t know… Guys, I really don’t know. This is so far out of my comfort zone,” Crystal explains, “I haven’t ever been interested in boys. I haven’t been interested in girls either, though - I guess because I didn’t think it was something I could do?” Crystal feels her stomach drop - she realizes there’s a very real possibility that she is, in fact, attracted to GiGi - that she’s not straight.

“Oh, Crystal,” Jan looks at her sympathetically, “I understand, I felt the same way when I met Jackie last year.”

“Yeah, and I felt the same way when I kissed a girl when I was ten,” Jackie half jokes.

Crystal wishes she could be as positive about this as Jan, or as self-assured as Jackie.

“I mean, I called her last night and hung up when she answered, and then she called back and it was like planes were taking off in my stomach. Fuck butterflies, it felt like I was going to explode for the whole conversation,” Crystal expresses her innermost thoughts to the couple, hoping for some kind of guidance.

“I know it doesn’t help much, but we’re here,” Jan assures her.

“It does help. It’s just weird, I think I’m going on a date - the first date I’ve ever been on - with a girl. With GiGi. It makes me nervous,” Crystal sighs.

“That’s normal!” Jackie and Jan respond in unison.

Crystal is suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for the two - she’s known them both for less than five days, but she’s baring her soul and they’re being more compassionate than she would’ve ever asked for.

“Thank you both, so much,” Crystal says. “I really appreciate it. I have no idea why this is so hard for me.”

They ride the rest of the way to school with the music blasting, and Jackie makes a joke that if Crystal is going to be gay, she’s going to have to learn the lyrics to at least three Indigo Girls songs and every single Ani DiFranco song. It makes Crystal laugh, and she hums along to the music, feeling content.

The school day is a blur. Crystal steps out of the car, and Jackie and Jan both hug her, promising that she’ll be okay and telling her how much fun she’ll have with GiGi.

Jackie and Jan kiss quickly before they part ways, and Crystal and Jackie walk to class, where GiGi is already sitting in the front row - a welcomed surprise.

“Hey GiGi,” Crystal smiles, forcing her anxiety down. She has to pretend to be calm; she doesn’t want to scare the girl off.

“Hi!” GiGi grins at Crystal. “Hey, Jackie.”

Jackie looks up from a book she’s already buried her nose in and looks absolutely shocked. “Oh, um hey, Gi.”

“Crystal, I need to uh, grab your address,” GiGi hushes her voice, “for tonight.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Crystal agrees, reaching into her backpack for a piece of paper. She tears one out of her notebook, and scribbles down her address. For a split second, she considers drawing a little heart below it - her hands are faster than her thoughts, and she does it. She hands the paper over to GiGi, turning pink.

“Thanks,” GiGi smiles, stuffing the paper into the pocket of her jacket.

She looks amazing today - as she has every day that Crystal has seen her. She’s wearing a short, white dress, a washed out denim jacket, and a pair of strappy, light brown sandals. Her make-up is lighter than it has been before; her lips are painted a peachy pink color and she’s not wearing eyeshadow.

Crystal is thankful she decided to wear something other than her usual plaid pants and t-shirt; she’s wearing a black mini-skirt with a tight purple t-shirt and a pair of Doc Martens. Her curly hair hangs just below her shoulders.

Crystal can’t comprehend anything Ms. Velour says all class; she’s too busy stealing glances at GiGi and glaring at Jackie for making fun of her.

GiGi actually says goodbye to Crystal - and Jackie - before she’s out the door this time, and Jackie tells Crystal that GiGi was looking at her all class long, too.

Crystal blushes.

AP English flies by, Crystal nearly falls asleep in calculus, doodles her way through physics, and zones out during economics.

And then, the day is gone.

Jackie drives her home, leaving Jan behind for a rehearsal.

“Are you nervous?” Jackie asks.

“Is that even a question?” Crystal chuckles.

“You’ll be fine - she’s clearly pretty into you!”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Crystal remains hopeful.

They drive in silence, and when Jackie drops Crystal off, she hugs her again, reminding her that if she needs anything at all to call her or Jan.

Crystal nods, promising that she will. She waves at Jackie as the dark haired girl drives away, and walks up her porch.

It’s three thirty - she has an hour and a half.

She showers quickly, washing her hair with the shampoo that smells like lavender and honey. She dries off and stares into her closet, trying to piece together an outfit. She decides on a patterned dress - something she’d never usually elect to wear - and slips it on. It’s a cute dress; it’s mostly blue, but it’s checkered with red and black lines. The dress clings to her breasts and hips, to Crystal’s satisfaction. She decides to wear the same pair of boots she wore to school - Jackie did say that they were the gayest thing you could wear, minus a flannel. She brushes out her hair, knowing there’s no point in trying to style it - it’s thick and curly and won’t hold, no matter what she does.

She spends the next thirty minutes on her make-up. She applies a light layer of foundation, curls her eyelashes (and puts on mascara for an extra touch), brushes on a smidge of dark blue eyeshadow, and chooses to wear a sparkly, clear-pink lipgloss. She’s satisfied with her appearance, and makes her way to her room. She writes a note to her parents, reminding them that she’s going out and will be back later. As she places the note on the kitchen counter, the doorbell rings.

Crystal walks towards the door, and inhales shakily.

Here goes.

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #gigi goode #crystal methyd #high school au #lesbian au #ms california #mik #concrit welcome #submission #s12

60 notes · View notes

ftb-writes · 3 years

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And the truth is revealed! I was waiting to post the Marvel fic for Captain Steve Rogers's birthday! Happy Birthday, OG Cap! And the next fic will be Skyrim!

No, but in all actuality, everyone. This was a really difficult fic for me to write, purely because it dealt with some darker themes, and very heavy-handedly. I had trouble writing this 'What if?' fic because it was so dark, and right from the get go. I had to put it down for a couple days at a time as I was writing. So, before you go into this, a few warnings. There is a bit of body horror, though I tried not to get too detailed. There is child death. There is implied (though not *directly* witnessed by the characters) torture. Of both adults and children. Admittance to suicide ideation. Implied cannibalism, and something that ended up sounding like a weird, pseudo-magical prion disease. Implied (though not stated) sexual torture/abuse. This fic is very dark. Please, proceed with caution.

*Please. Please, sir; kill me.

** Thank you.

It is dank in the cramped cellar-turned-laboratory of the crumbling Erskine estate. The age of the damp air hits Steven like a steam train. He chokes on the smell of death and rot wrapping cloyingly around him and the other Avengers. Next to him, Sam and Bucky are gagging, and he hears Tony curse quietly. For once, Steve lets the foul-mouthed inventor be -- the stench is bringing bile to the back of his throat.

The lights don't flick on, despite all the others in the abandoned estate working, and Steve sighs as he flicks the switch up and down a few times ineffectually. The agents with them silently pull out torches. Steve feels his mouth from a grim line as the artificial light washes away the perceived innocence of his old friend.

Abraham had shelves of jars lining the walls, all filled with formaldehyde and bits of human tissue, organs, even a whole fetus suspended in one. The cells on the other side of the ring of light the agents wield are rusty and blood-stained, and have rotting remains still trapped inside. Steve can't bring himself to look at the rib bones jutting up.

As they make their way deeper, the team quickly discovers that the celler opens up into a much larger space -- larger than was reported. They split up and begin to look around, and both the Avengers and the agents accompanying them are horrified by some of the remains they are finding. No one comments on how young the victims all are.

Steve steps around a shelf and notices another victim, this one tacked to the wall and opened up like an anatomical doll. He feels himself heave, and only just avoids puking. There's still some form, but she's mostly sludge by this point. It would have been a gruesome way to go.

To his horror, the girl lifts her head, and Steve chokes on a scream that threatens to tear out of him.

"Bitte," the little girl wheezes. "Bitte, Herr; Töte mich."*

Steve doesn't realize he's crying until after he's fired. He hears one of the nearby agents uttering a prayer for her. "This was a mistake," he tells the team. "We shouldn't be here. This place should have been left to hell."

No one responds.

A few minutes later -- and Steve's morbidly relieved none of the other victims still live -- Bucky mutters a curse of his own. "Stevie, you'll want to see this. Can I get a medic over here?"

Steve weaves his way around shelves, cells, and even a chain-covered operating table. Bucky motions him over to one of the cells, and Sam is just breaking the lock.

Inside the cage is Johann Schmidt, bound, bloodied, and bare. He barely reacts to their presence, but Steve can still see the small flinch. The German isn't looking at any of them, staring out the opposite side of the cell into the dark.

It's Steve's turn to swear. "Get a blanket," he tells the medic that's arrived. As they hurry off, Steve cautiously climbs in with Schmidt and starts cutting away the ropes.

"He's still alive," the German whispers. "Erskine. The fools used the wrong bullet."

"He's delirious," Sam huffs.

"That monster did all this," Schmidt continues, as if Sam hadn't spoken. "And now he's going to do it all to you, Rogers. You should not have come."

The medic returns at that moment, and Steve takes the offered blanket and wraps Schmidt up, before carefully lifting him. "What do you mean?"

"He's still down here," Schmidt breathes.

All the torches go out simultaneously. One of the agents yelps, and then gurgles. Schmidt begins to shiver.

"Please," he whispers. "Shoot me. I can't-"

Steve sets the German on his feet and draws his gun, but catches Schmidt as his legs give out. To see the once proud founder of HYDRA helpless -- Steve doesn't dare think what must have happened to him down here, alone and in the dark.

"Can you walk?" Steve asks, and Schmidt shakes his head.

"Can't feel my legs," Schmidt grunts, and Steve hates the spike of pity and fear that lurches through him.

"I'm going to get you out of here," Steve murmurs.

"I'm a dead man, Rogers. Finish the job and save yourselves. He's not even human anymore."

"What-" Steve starts to ask, and a massive black shape lurches out of the darkness and sinks long claws into the flesh of Schmidt's thigh.

The German screams, and as Steve empties the rest of the magazine into the thing's face, Schmidt pulls the shield free and slams it into the beast's chest. Sam and Bucky are shouting.

"I don't want to be hurt again," Schmidt wimpers, just loud enough for Steve to hear.

He reloads as best as he can one handed -- there's no way he's letting Schmidt go now -- and fires directly into the thing's wrist. It howls, but releases Schmidt and Steve scoops the German up and runs.

He can hear the thing barreling along behind him, whatever it is. Steve hadn't gotten a good look at it, but it reeks of decay, with a bleached skull for a face, and thick, dark fur. It looks like something out of a bad horror film, only real, and Steve can hear agents behind him screaming, and his team calling directions to the exit. Schmidt is sobbing like a child in his arms.

Somehow, in the dark, Steve manages to find the doorway, stumbles up the stairs, out of the cellar. Peter is right behind him, no doubt shoved ahead by Tony, and right behind Peter is the inventor himself. The rest of the Avengers make it out all right, but they've lost most of the agents, and the medic that had brought Steve the blanket. Thor slams the door shut, and the silence is deafening. The group slowly makes their way out to the trucks, stumbling over their own feet as the adrenaline wears off.

In the bright, summer light, Dr. Banner begins to look over Schmidt's wounds, and Steve asks about that beast.

"They have many names; none should be spoken aloud. They eat us mortals, Rogers. Erskine is a monster now. I came -- I was looking for signs of my son. For his sake, I hope the boy's long dead. I -- He-"

Bruce shushes him gently. "Once we get Erskine cleared out, you can search for his remains."

"Danke," Schmidt murmurs, "but he's probably been eaten."**

Steve shakes his head. "I'm so sorry," he tells Schmidt, and means it. "How long had Erskine been torturing people? When he-?"

"Even before he left Germany," Schmidt whispers. "That's why -- I wanted everyone to see what me and the others saw. They're all buried around out here, now. I'm the only one left."

"The others?" Steve prompts.

Schmidt swallows thickly. "When the Nazis were financing the super soldier program, and they had just signed Erskine on, there were about fifty-seven other kids that had been shipped out here. For… experimentation. I happened to be the most fitting candidate. So he didn't kill me, but I wish he had. I suffered so much under his thumb. Am still suffering."

"Other kids," Sam asks. "What do you mean, other kids?"

Schmidt looks at them in shock. "You mean, you didn't know? No one over there knew?"

"Knew what?" Steve hands him a bottle of water, and Schmidt sips from it before he answers.

"Rogers, I was only fifteen during the war. Three years younger than you. I was selected because I'd been an orphan for most of my life by that point. I arrived when I was, I'm not sure, maybe eight? By twelve, I already wanted to die." Schmidt seems concerned. "Did none of SHIELD really know how old I was?"

"No," Steve sighs, and he feels guilty now. If he'd known all of this during the war, he would have tried at least a little bit harder to de-escalate things between him and Schmidt. Maybe, the German might have been talked out of world domination. But then again, if he'd known all this during the war, a lot of things would have been different.

"I can see those sad puppy dog eyes from over here, Rogers. I assure you, nothing you could have said at that point would have stopped me. As I said, I wanted to die. At least as the Red Skull, no one would hurt me."

Before Steve can think of a response, Schmidt clears his throat. "We should come up with a plan. Before it gets dark. Things like that can't come out during the day. However, once it gets dark…"

Peter raises his hand quietly, as if trying to ask a question in school. "I'd rather not be eaten thanks," he admits, "I have a math test next week."

Schmidt laughs, surprisingly. "A good head on his shoulders, Junior," he says to Tony. "Now, do any of you have silver bullets?"

One of the remaining agents laughs, but as Schmidt silently turns his attention toward the agent, they realize no one else is laughing. The chuckles awkwardly trail off. No one actually answers Schmidt.

"Well then, the best thing we can do is leave to get some, and try to make it back before sundown. Otherwise he might just run off, and we'll never see him again."

"I'll go," Steve offers. "The rest of you, stay here and make sure he doesn't leave. Schmidt, you want to come with me?"

Schmidt hesitates, obviously a bit uncomfortable, but he shrugs and nods. "I'd rather be as far away from -- the thing Erskine has become as possible."

"We'll take care of it," Steve promises Schmidt, as the two climb into one of the trucks. "That thing, whatever it is, isn't natural. That's for sure."

"No." Schmidt shifts in the seat, clearly trying to get more comfortable while also favoring his injured leg. "No, it's not."

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junidrabbles · 4 years

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Everyone in my family has a soulmate

One of my earliest memories is sitting on my mother’s lap as she brushed my long, dark hair. I couldn’t have been older than four or five, but I remember staring into the mirror and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I was beautiful. The bright blue-green color of my eyes stood out against my honey skin and I remember looking up to my mother’s reflection above me. We looked so similar, even though I was young. Her eyes were a bit more green than mine, but other than that, I was almost a spitting image of her.

“Don’t stare in the mirror too long, sladkaya,” she chided gently, running the brush through my hair in another long stroke. “You could fall in love with your own reflection. It has happened to many a Yakhontova woman who was not careful.”

I remember nodding and turning my gaze down. Even at such a young age, I knew the power the women in my family had. Yakhontova women were known for their beauty and the intensity of their love. It is a point of pride within my family that no Yakhontova woman has ever had a divorce. It simply isn’t done. The love of a Yakhontova was so deep and passionate that each woman always knew their soulmate the day they laid eyes on them, and they were never wrong.

I was fourteen the first time I fell in love. That was the first year I wasn’t homeschooled. It was tradition for Yakhontova women to be kept at home until they were old enough, otherwise they may find their soulmate, their vozlublenniy, too early. She said the love would grow too intense too quickly if found too young, and it would dwarf every love around it. The world would become cold and jealous. That was why it was important to give other women a chance first.

I realized what she meant the first day I went to school. People stared at me, boys and girls alike. I saw jealousy, admiration, lust, and it all made me realize how special I was, and how lucky I was to have been born a Yakhontova. I felt bad for all the regular girls who had clearly dressed up and put on makeup and were trying so hard to flirt. Mama was right; it wasn’t fair. I could turn the head of anyone I wanted. Of course, I wouldn’t. It wasn’t the Yakhontova way. We never wanted to steal a man from another, we only wanted to search for our true partner, our vozlublenniy.

I found mine in second period. We were supposed to be learning math, but the minute our eyes met he was transfixed, and so was I. His name was Daniel, and he was beautiful. He had chiseled features, but his eyes were soft. They were a darker blue than my own, and so kind. His hazel hair swept over his forehead and, to this day, I can remember every detail of his expression as our gazes met. I knew then he was my vozlublenniy and I stared into his soul, trying to let him know. He seemed to understand, because he asked me out immediately after class.

He proposed to me two years later, though he had wanted to earlier. He told me time and time again that he had wanted to marry me the day we met, but I told him it was improper. Yakhontova women did not wed until after their sixteenth birthdays.

He respected my wishes. His present for my sixteenth birthday was a ring, and we were wed the next year.

Our marriage was beautiful, magical, just like my mother had described. Our passion for each other was always present, a constant force between us, pulling us together like a magnet. We could hardly stand to not be by each other’s sides, always touching, always staring, so enamored, so in love. To be apart was torture. Every second we were away was absolutely excruciating, like part of my soul was being torn from my chest.

This feeling was part of what made the week my grandmother died one of the worst of my life. I had to leave him, to go abroad, back to our homeland for our funeral. Her death was painful on its own. Only eighteen, I was lucky to have never experienced such loss before, but the fact that our matriarch was the first was all the more horrible. My grandmother had always been such a role model for me, even though she was very far away.

As hard as being apart was for that week, coming home was worse, because of what I found when I got there.

My vozlublenniy was in our bed on top of another woman. When I walked in, he startled and looked at me with eyes that I had never seen before. At that moment, he was a stranger, someone I had never met, someone who had never met me.

He opened his mouth to speak: “Who—”

But as our eyes met, his whole face changed to become the one I knew and he immediately pulled away from the girl on the bed and walked toward me.

“Lada!” he greeted warmly, as if he hadn’t just been having sex with another. “I missed you so much.”

I glared at him. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. It was unheard of for a Yakhontova to be cheated on, and after we were already married. I was full of emotions: shame, fury, despair. I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I ran from the room and grabbed the suitcase I had brought back in with me. I threw it into the backseat of the car and scream-cried all the way to my mother’s house.

“I don’t know what to do, Mamochka,” I told her as I sat on her couch, my face slick with tears. I buried my head in my hands, trying to hide my face. I didn’t want her to see me like this. With my eyes swollen and my cheeks puffy, I looked nothing like the beautiful Yakhontova woman I was supposed to be. “I thought he was my vozlublenniy, I felt it, just like you described, but just now, I-I walked into our bedroom and he… he was…” I choked on my own sobs, unable to continue.

My mother finished my sentence, her tone neutral. “With another woman.”

Surprised, I looked up and nodded searching her face for the disgust she had to feel for me. I was waiting for her to chastise me for choosing the wrong man, to call me a sorry excuse for a Yakhontova.

Instead she shook her head. “So he has soured. I am sorry, sladkaya, I was hoping you would never have to deal with this. I thought you two had been together long enough that a week away would not turn him rotten, but it seems I was wrong.”

“What do I do, Mama? I don’t want to stay with him, I can hardly look at him.”

She frowned deeply. “Oh no, stchastye moyo,” she asserted. “A Yakhontova woman is the greatest honor, and those who do not treasure it do not get to keep that honor.”

“But… but we’re married,” I reminded her helplessly. “And I can’t be the first Yakhontova woman to get a divorce, I would be humiliated, and I would bring shame to you…”

She laughed, though there was little feeling in it. “Oh, there will be no divorce. Of course not. But really, sladkaya, did you think no Yakhontova has ever had their vozlublenniy sour before? No, it happens. Sometimes our loves are corrupted, our souls torn apart, and we must find our new vozlublenniy. Of course, we can’t do that until we are completely free from the one who has spoiled. We must remove the roots of darkness from our heart so it can find its new, true vozlublenniy.”

“But I thought there was only one vozlublenniy per Yakhontova.” I stared at my mother, always my greatest confidant and ally, and for a second, among all the despair, I felt a sliver of hope.

“Da,” she agreed. “One at a time. But as soon as old is gone, the universe will create a new.”

“So is he gone now, now that he has broken our bond? He is no longer my vozlublenniy?”

She tilted her head. “He is not, but we must make sure energy you put into him is set free, returned to universe.”

“How do we do that?”

She smiled and it was breathtaking. Her eyes gleamed. “I will show you, stchastye, do not worry. I will show you. It is a long family secret, a tradition spanning back thousands of years, and I will teach you like my Mamulya taught me, many years ago.”

That night, she accompanied me back to my house. The girl was long gone, but Daniel still seemed different. Once again, he was a stranger, until he spotted me.

“Lada—” he started toward me.

I looked at my mother for guidance and she nodded encouragingly. I took a deep breath, and I embraced him. I kissed him, and the passion between us ignited a fire, like it always did. That fire was consuming, white hot flames encapsulating us. But I did not let it take me away like I usually would. I let it build and build and build and when it was finally at its peak, I drove a knife into the back of my former husband.

He tried to pull away, to scream, but I pulled him back to me, continuing to kiss him. I stabbed him again, and I would stab him three more times as I kissed him, not letting go until he slumped in my arms.

“Good, sladkaya!” my mother praised. “You did so well. We are halfway done. I will dispose of this for you, do not worry, but you still have one more thing you must do.”

I looked at her, confused, but as our eyes met I understood.

As she took care of what had once been my lover, I snuck into the house of the girl he had cheated on me with. Somehow, with the energy I had regained flowing through me, I could feel where she was. A white hot ray of fury, of vengeance, drove me toward her.

I slit her throat as she slept. There was no intimacy in it, no ritual. She was not special to me, she was just a lecher that had to be removed. I could not have her darkness tainting my new vozlublenniy.

She died quickly. I left just as quickly.

That was ten years ago. The next decade would teach me how fickle love was, how cruel the universe could be. I found my vozlublenniy three more times, just to have him snatched from me each time.

The first time I found him again, he was a beautiful dark-skinned man named Henry. We were married within weeks of having met, and I was sure it would work this time. But Henry was different than Daniel had been. He was less compliant, less agreeable, and frequently when I left for work, he would run away. He always acted like he didn’t appreciate our love the second I was away, but I felt his passion when we were together. I knew the love he had for me, but he wouldn’t stop denying it. It just wouldn’t do. I had to free him to the universe.

The next time he was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and cunning eyes. His name was Jackson. We stayed together for almost five years before I had to return to the homeland with my mother for a month, as an aunt had fallen ill. When I returned, I found he had cheated on me twice, with two different women. I gave him to the universe, and I found the lechers and returned them as well.

It would be a year before I found him again, a muscular man named Allen. We wed quickly, but I soon learned that Allen was violent. In the times where our passion wasn’t its most active, he would hurt me. He would lash out at me, call me awful, awful names. I know my vozlublenniy would never do that, and I knew his most recent rebirth must have addled him. I had to give him back.

However, it didn’t go as well this time. He survived my attempt to return him, and he escaped and contacted the police. He went to them, as if what had happened was my fault. As if I were not trying to help him by doing what I had done. But it was okay. After I had been taken into custody, I learned that he had succumbed to his injuries, and his energy had been freed.

This is my plea. They say they have sentenced me to death, as if it is something I have earned. They call me awful names, a criminal, a murderer, a serial killer. But I am no such thing. Everything I did, I did for love. I hurt no one who hadn’t hurt me first. All I asked for was loyalty, for love, and don’t I deserve those things? I deserve someone who would never cheat on me, never raise a hand to me, or run away from me. Would you do something like that?

You know, I don’t think you would. You have lovely, kind eyes. Why don’t you get a little closer, let me look at you. And you can look at me.

Do you believe in love at first sight, vozlublenniy?

#horror #writing #short story #juni's drabbles #tw: death #tw: murder #everyone in my family has a soulmate #long post

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youarejesting · 4 years

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BTS365 Prompts.Week 23

[Full Masterlist] [Prompt Masterlist]

Beta: @lunarlxve

Please tag me in your work if you use my prompts. I want to see your work. Ever your Jester.

Tell me your birthday and I will tag you on your special day!

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June 4th - 10th

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Kim Seokjin - hug

Kim Seokjin had never been hugged. He didn’t know what it felt like, but it always looked nice in movies and dramas. Why has he never been hugged? Well, he was an only child, and his parents went on a lot of overseas work trips. The nanny was an older woman and very stern. He wondered why she was a nanny when she hated children. She hated when they were too loud, hated when they got grubby or ran around, and hated when they talked or asked questions.

Soon he was a teen, a handsome one but home schooled. Seokjin’s Tutor was an older man who only knew how to read a textbook and scold him. He never got hurt to warrant a hug, was never praised with a hug. Until he bumped into you. No literally bumped into you. The two of you toppled over, chest to chest. The warmth and physical connection sent a spark down his spine. He felt for the first time that he wasn’t alone. Even if it was a mistake that you fell against him.

Min Yoongi - cat

“Hey, Lil meow meow,” You grinned stepping into the studio. You were rival producers, and it amused you how easily you could get under his skin. You really meant no harm by it, and you hoped it came across that way. Sometimes he would do the same to you by making fun of the bags under your eyes or something as trivial. It had gotten simultaneously worse and better due to renovations, you were sharing a studio. Both agreeing to leave each other’s music and equipment alone.

“So how long did it take for your date to run away this time?” He sighed, taking the coffee from your hand, freeing it so you could count his change and place the small pile of coins onto his desk.

“He said his boss called him thirty seconds into the movie. The opening credits hadn’t even finished Min” You hissed sipping your coffee “I was so excited to see the movie.”

“What a prick, did he really?” Yoongi hissed, turning in his seat, pulling his headphones down so they would hang around his neck.

“Yes, he really did” you turned to face your computer, turning it on and setting everything up. “I don’t understand Min. Am I really that bad?”

“No you're not, as much as we joke you are cute” He grinned turning your seat around, so you were left with no choice but to look at him “Sometimes you act like a big cat all feisty and claws and teeth, but you forget you are actually a cute little kitten.”

Jung Hoseok - doughnut

“Welcome to the Doughnut Drive- thru. How may I help you?” You asked, trying to sound cheerful after a long shift.

“Hey, can I get twelve assorted iced doughnuts with sprinkles?” The voice was muffled through the drive-thru, but you knew exactly who it was.

You tapped the button on the sales machine. Waiting for his car to arrive. It was a red 1973 Mercedes 450SL. A beautiful piece of machinery. He smiled up at you and handed you the money as he did every time, brushing his fingers against your palm, making you feel warm in your pretty pastel blue uniform dress and apron.

In the middle of the Money was a piece of paper that said ‘Hoseok xxxx-xxx-xxx call me.’ This wasn’t the first time he had handed you a note with his number. You felt your face flush, wondering if you looked like a tomato at this point.

“Here is your change sir, I will just get them now” You walked off and grabbed the assorted donuts and handed them over. Watching his car drive off.

It was when you heard his voice again through your headset from the drive-thru speaker that you grew confused. Have you made a mistake? “Miss y/n, I come around every Friday after work, hoping I might get the chance to talk to you. I have given you my number almost thirty times now, and you never text, never call. Just let me know before I die of a heart attack or diabetes from eating 12 donuts a week. Would you be interested in going on a date with me?”

Kim Namjoon - drive-in

Namjoon had asked you out a few days ago after school, he seemed confident and kind of cocky in front of his friends. You almost thought it was a joke; that is until he arrived at your house, his usually disheveled hair combed down. He was no longer in his leather jacket but a nice button up. He shook hands with your father, talking to him with a smile while you went to fetch your purse.

“Sir, I have plans to watch a movie with your daughter and then to eat at the diner. I thought I should let you know in case you wish to know her whereabouts.” Namjoon said, trying to be courteous to your parents. “The movie finishes at eight, and we should finish dinner by nine, so we shouldn’t be out too late.”

“You aren’t planning to do anything at the drive-in, are you?” Your father said sternly, “I know where you live mister Kim.”

“No, sir, we aren’t going to do anything except watch a movie,” Namjoon said, rubbing his palms on his trousers looking towards the stairs hoping you were ready to leave. “And perhaps I could hold her hand.”

“Alright, Mum, Dad, don’t scare the poor boy” You sighed, gesturing Namjoon over; he got up grateful that you had saved him from your father's intense stare.

“I will wait up,” Your father said, walking you both to the door catching Namjoon’s arm. “You may hold her hand, and I will allow one kiss goodnight if she wishes, but otherwise, keep your hands to yourself, buddy.”

“Yes, Sir. I will have her home by nine.”

Park Jimin - VCR

“Hey Jimin, did you record the show last night? I was so busy with my Aunty’s 45th birthday that I was unable to watch it” You grabbed your friend's arm in the school hall. “Please, PLEASE tell me you recorded it.”

“Yeah I got it recorded, you can come over later and watch it with me after dance practice” He smiled giving you a perfect spin. “You will watch me, right?”

“Of course, Chim.” You stopped at your adjacent lockers, taking out your books, remembering the math pop quiz. It was going to be a long day.

You weren’t wrong, the day was slow and tedious. Your only saving grace was when you hopped into Jimin’s bright yellow buggy and took off to his dance class. You sat in the corner watching him dance. He was one of two boys who danced in his age group. The girls moved so delicately, their bodies were as light as air. It made you self conscious even Jimin in his sweats and singlet was more agile and graceful then you could ever dream of being.

He drove you both home, asking if he did well and telling you how he thinks he is ready for the upcoming performance. The Park family home was a single story. Jimin called it small and old, but you thought it was homely and cozy. The two of you sat in his room; you snuggled into his blankets while putting the old tape in the VCR machine. It was nice being with your best friend, but you wanted to be something more for some reason.

You just wish you had the courage to tell him.

Kim Taehyung - BFF

It was a Friday night; you were in the basement lying on your stomach on the plush rug; your legs swinging back and forth as you slowly threaded beads onto a clear fishing line. Threading Taehyung’s favorite color beads in a simple, alternate pattern. You were able to fasten the bracelet when the door to the basement swung open.

“You got it, Mrs. L/N, I will let her know for you” Taehyung’s voice called up to your mother as he hopped down the stairs enthusiastically. “Sup?”

“Just chilling Tae” The evidence of your craft pushed under the couch.

“I just wanted to let you know, your mum says I can stay for dinner, if you want me to that is?”

“No duh, Tae, you’re my BFF.”

Taehyung laughed sitting on the two-seater sofa, his long legs hanging over the side. “We should do something fun” You hummed the BFF bracelet in your pocket felt heavy.

“Like what?” Taehyung asks, earning a shrug from you. He ponders for a moment before continuing, “We could play truth or dare.”

“Will it work with just the two of us?”

“Sure, let me go first,” he smiled, sitting up and crossing his legs on the couch, patting the second cushion, and you sat across from him. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth”

“Do you have anyone you like?” He peeked at you from under his shaggy bangs, and you felt your cheeks grow pink.

“Yes,” your giggle was nervous, and you tried to quickly move on, “truth or dare?”

“Truth?” He smiled, moving the hair out of his eyes with his fingers.

“Do you have anyone you like?” He nodded, his face turned away, and your mother took this moment to bring you a plate of orange soda and biscuits.

The two of you chorused your thanks, and when the door was shut, you were left alone once more. One more round and Tae asked if you had ever kissed anyone, and you dared him to dunk his biscuit in his soda before eating it.

“Truth or dare?” He asked, seemingly determined to get you back for the horrific snack you had created. And you thought it only fair that he had the chance.

“Dare,” you smiled, downing your soda so he couldn’t ruin it for you.

“I dare you to kiss me,” you sprayed him completely, choking on the carbonated beverage.

Jeon Jungkook - Iced tea

Jungkook was contracted to paint the outside of your family home. You were back home from University and house sitting for your parents while they were on a cruise. Laying out on a sun chair in your bikini, trying to enjoy the warmth of the sun, you started to get thirsty. Walking inside to your parent’s indoor bar, you began preparing some ice tea. It was when you saw him on a ladder painting above the window all shirtless and sweaty, that you decided to prepare a second beverage.

You turned to the mirror fixing your hair, applying a tinted lip gloss, and readjusting your bikini top to accentuate your cleavage. You carried both drinks out and smiled, “Jungkook, was it? Would you like some ice tea, you look a bit thirsty.”

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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

Text

Harry Hook x reader - exchange

Harry stared at the beautiful necklace in the window, hands in his pockets. The sapphire and ruby-encrusted jewelry staring mockingly at him.

All he wanted to do this year, was get his amazing girlfriend of 3 months her first Christmas gift from him, it had to be good or else!

‘all guys know, if a girl doesn’t get a good and expensive present for her birthday or Christmas, or an anniversary from their significant other, they'll dump ‘em flat, it's just the facts Hook’ Chad Charming had said that to him a little while after he and (y/n) had gotten serious.

Harry pulled out his phone, opening his bank account app.

$496.56 available in your account.

glancing back up, he grimaced at the price tag of the necklace

$2,000.99

“ugg, I'm never gonna be able to get ‘er a present worthy of ‘er”

shaking his head, he sulked down the street, making his way back to auradon prep. shivering as he made it inside, just in time for curfew, rubbing his hands together to gather warmth, and shaking off the cold snow from his shoulders.

“Harry~!” he felt a smile bloom on his face as he locked eyes on you, (short/long/mid-length) (h/c) hair gleaming under the lights, bright (e/c) eyes happy to see him, and a bright gorgeous smile.

god, he had gotten the most beautiful girl in auradon hadn’t he? that’s why he had to get the most beautiful present for her.

“bonnie lass~” he cooed, catching you with his arms and hips, spinning you around slightly as you jumped on him. “hehe, I was only gone for 20 minutes~”

“I know~ but I missed you” you mumbled into his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

“Alright, alright little koala, let’s go”

you giggled as harry carried you back to your dorm, letting you drop yourself back onto your feet.

“Thanks, hooky” you smiled, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek, which was still red from the cold.

“yer welcome love, now get some sleep” you nodded, pulling him into a quick hug before sliding back into your dorm.

“good night Harry ”

“goodnight (y/n)”

you sighed as the door closed, god you were falling in love with that boy, and hard too.

“so what are you getting him for Christmas (y/n)?” Jane spoke up from her bed, smiling at the stupid grin on your face, but frowning when your smile dropped.

“shit! I don’t know! he's so perfect, so I have to get him something perfect!!” Jane found herself laughing.

“what- why are you laughing?!” Jane stifled her giggling, smiling at you “because the gift value doesn’t matter, it's the person it’s coming from that matters~!”

you sighed “I know but...Harry-Harry is my first boyfriend, so the first Christmas gift has to be perfect! and if it’s not perfect, Harry will think I'm not worth it and then he’ll leave me!!!!” Jane sighed and stood from her bed, walking over to you and gripping your shoulders

“if I help you find something, will you chill for at least a couple days about a gift for Harry?” you nodded vigorously, grabbing Jane's hands

“yes of course! thank you Jane!!”

Jane nodded, grinning “you’re welcome, now go to bed!”

you laughed, releasing Jane and heading over to your dresser to grab your sweat pants and a Harry hoodie.

“Alright, see you in the morning jane”

“see you in the morning (y/n)”

“christ Harry 2,000 dollars for a necklace? you sure about it?”

Harry nodded, looking intently at his phone at the photo he took.

“it’s perfect for ‘er Uma, I have ta get this one”

“Harry, I'm pretty sure you can just get her a 25 dollar crystal necklace and she’d never take it off till it broke, and then she would go crazy over fixing it because you gave it to her”

Harry shook his head, messing with his mother’s old ruby ring, “no Uma, I have ta get this one, it's the only thing worthy of ‘er” Uma rolled her eyes. she would never understand Harry’s obsession to please whoever he was with, it was the same with his dad.

and then Uma, and now (y/n), with him wanting to make her happy with lavishing her with expensive gifts when she would be happy with a well-worn hoodie or jacket.

“Okay so it’s perfect for her, but it's 2,000 DOLLARS you can’t afford it!!” Harry’s shoulders slumped, feeling that pressing feeling on his back.

“I know, what am I goin’ ta do?” Harry locked eyes on his ring, ripping it off his pinkie finger he turned to Uma with a giant grin.

“I'll sell my ring!!’ Uma's eyes widened and she shook her head

“what no! that’s the only thing you have of your mom left!!” Harry’s face dimmed slightly “I-I know but, if it’s for (y/n)-”

Uma groaned, standing “alright whatever, do what you want, but I'm warning you, (y/n) would be happy with just a bracelet or something”

Uma walked off, leaving Harry to stare at his mother’s ring.

“no, no, no, no, nope, nah, no, uggg there’s nothing!!”

you flopped back into your chair, there was nothing online for harry, and going to the mall had proved fruitless.

“come on (y/n), let’s go to the mall one last time, maybe you’ll find a cool jacket?” you sighed, shrugging.

“yeah, we have to go later though, I have winter break homework to do” Jane nodded, putting on her coat.

“Alright, I'm going to go to lunch with Lonnie and Evie alright?”

“kay have fun”

Harry rushed through the streets, skidding to a stop at the jewelry shop, smiling as he spotted the necklace, glancing at his hand, he played with the ruby ring.

“Hopefully it's enough for an exchange” he muttered, pushing through the shop doors.

“Hello, welcome to the miner’s jewelry shop, I'm Doc, how can I help ya?” Harry took a deep breath holding out the ring.

“is it possible I can exchange this for that ruby and sapphire necklace in the window?” Doc blinked, taking the ring carefully and examining it.

“well my boy, the necklace retails for $2,000, and this...wow this would go for $5,000 easily, are you sure about this?” Harry blinked surprised, 5,000? wow, but he had already made up his mind.

“I'm sure, its, the necklace is important to meh”

doc smiled, eyes twinking “whos the girl son?” Harry felt his face heat up, and he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

“that easy to figure it out? well, her name is (y/n) and...she's really important to meh, and I need the first Christmas gift I get ‘er to be perfect.”

Doc nodded, glancing back at the ruby, “alright, I’ll take this, and you can take the necklace, sound good?” Harry nodded, grinning widely.

“yes! that sounds perfect!”

Doc smiled, placing the ring on the counter, getting up from behind the counter to retrieve the necklace.

“I’ll tell ya something else, if she doesn’t like it, you can return that and I’ll give you back your ring” Harry nodded, watching as Doc unclipped the necklace and walked back to the counter to place it in a box.

“Thank yeh”

as he left Harry couldn’t help the sinking pit that formed in his stomach as he walked away from the last thing he had ever gotten from his mother.

you groaned, closing the math book, and face slamming into the cover.

“you good love?” you jumped out of your skin, whirling around to see Harry grinning devilishly at you.

“Harry you ass” you laughed, standing and walking over to him for a hug. he hugged you tightly, rocking you slightly.

“Sorry love”

you sighed, pulling back and grasping his hands, brows furrowing when you noticed something missing from his right-hand pinkie.

“Harry?” you questioned, bringing up the aforementioned hand “where's your ring? you never take it off?”

Harry shrugged “im havin’ it polished”

you didn’t believe him, he never trusted anyone with it.

you narrowed your eyes but let the matter go, not wanting to start a fight.

“alright whatever you say hooky”

your jaw dropped as you passed by a jewelry shop, Harry’s ruby ring sitting inside a box in the window, you could tell it was it due to the specific scratch on the band on the left side, no price listed, instead it said.

not for sale till 1/30/2020

pushing open the door you walked right up to the man at the desk, pointing back at the ring.

“how much is that ruby ring in the window”

doc smiled, he could hear the anger and confusion in your voice.

“(y/n) I presume?”

your arm dropped to your side, and you balked, jaw-dropping and eyes widening, looking confused “wha- how do you know my name?”

“your boyfriend came in about two days ago, traded in that ring to get something for you”

your jaw dropped, “but-it- its important to him, I wouldn’t want him to give it up just to get me something”

doc chuckled “tell you what darling, I'll give it to you for free, so you can give it back, and you’ll be able to keep your present from him”

you balked “but-but-free?! you’re going to give me it for free?!”

“why it's Christmas! and I have plenty of rubies to spare, I don’t need one with precious sentimental value”

you felt tears burn at your eyes, and you nodded “thank you, thank you so much”

“of course, now let me go fetch it and I’ll wrap it up for you too”

“at least let me pay for the wrapping?”

“oh alright”

“I still can’t believe you gave it up Harry, you know when she finds out she’s going to be pissed”

Harry shrugged, tying the ribbon on the wrapped box “not when she sees ‘er present I bet” Uma made a face, yeah right, she’s just going to storm right over to the store and demand the ring back.

“whatever Harry, she's going to be pissed at you” Uma stood and walked out of the room, leaving Harry behind with the pit in his stomach growing bigger and sinking deeper.

"I'm doin’ this fo’r ‘er." Harry stated to himself, looking down at the semi-neatly wrapped present. "Ma would've liked ‘er…."

~~~

"I can't believe he traded his ring for a present for me! This ring is way too important to him!" You exclaimed, pacing your room.

"He must've gotten you something expensive." Jane stated, watching you pace.

"But this is the last thing his mother gave him! Why on earth-"

"Bonnie lass?" Harry's voice came from the other side of the door.

You ran to the door, shoving the wrapped up ring box behind ur back as you opened the door.

"Harry!" You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Merry Christmas love!" Harry exclaimed, hugging you back.

Jane coughed, causing you to release Harry and glare at her.

"Jane, don't you have your gift exchange with Carlos?" You stated.

Jane went wide-eyed, grabbing her present and rushing past the both of you with a quick "bye!"

You laughed before pulling Harry into your room, closing the door behind you. When you turned around, Harry was holding out his gift to you.

"Harry, I want you to open yours first." You stated, holding out your smaller gift to him. He looked confused for a second, but nodded, taking the box.

You took yours, watching as he walked to your bed, sat down, and began to open it. You smiled as he opened the ring box.

"But how?" Harry questioned as he held up his mother's ruby ring. he looked to you, his eyes were shining with tears.

You smirked. "I saw it in the window at the jewelry shop you traded it at. Doc was very kind even though I basically threw open the door and demanded to know the price of it. Although he knew right away who I was." You rambled on.

"But now I have to return your gift…." Harry frowned.

You smiled. "Nope! Doc said I could keep it."

"Really? Well open it lass!" Harry exclaimed, sliding his mother's ring back onto his finger, where it belongs.

You sat down next to Harry and began to untie the ribbons on your present. Unwrapping became a bit of a struggle when you realized Harry has never done this kind of thing before.

Finally, you managed to get to the box inside. You opened it up and gasped. The ruby and sapphire encrusted necklace shined up at you.

(imagine the diamonds are sapphires)

"Do ye like it?" Harry asked as you held up the necklace.

"I absolutely love it! But Harry, don't ever think about giving up something of yours just for me, legit i would have been happy with one of your old hoodies" You exclaimed, putting on the necklace.

Harry snickered, shaking his head. "Alright Love. I won't try tha’ again."

Harry leaned forward, kissing your forehead. "Merry Christmas my love"

You smiled, laying back into Harry's chest. "Merry Christmas my pirate"

~The End~

thank you to @marichat4lyf who both beta read and wrote the last half of this fic!!

#descendants #Descendents #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #christmas fic

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sumeshi-t · 4 years

Text

the idea of making hc’s of children is sosososo cute. i’ll follow ur steps chloe @akaashit-baeji lolol this is gonna be really self-indulgent buuut my excuse is that it’s my birthday so here it goes... i'm writing the last half of this with a hangover and a bad case of dysmenorrhea... sucks 2 be me

Oikawa Teru (及川輝)

his name “輝“ means “bright”, and this boi lives up to it because, let’s face it, he’s gonna be like his dad. he embodies this “brightness”, in a way that he’s smart, and he makes sure he and his team’s (or whichever team he’s going to be in) will shine on the court

wavy/curly hair and a victim of my and his dad’s astigmatism. always has this cheeky smile, and he gets my brimming energy so he’s really approachable and charming

very��good with words; it’s like he always knows what to say

when he plays he also wears contact lenses

but don’t be fooled. in their generation, it’s him who has to put iwaizumi’s son in check. he knows everything about his teammates too, he knows more than what he lets on (which sometimes, they find creepy, but they all know he means well)

anyway, unlike his dad, he doesn’t really mind having geniuses around. instead, he watches them very closely; something like “mutualism”. he knows what he lacks and he knows he can learn from them too, vice versa.

is into horror games. in his free time, he and his sister take turns playing. and they decide it by seeing who can last the longest without flinching/screaming. he’s annoyed because his sister’s better at it

has fans, ngl. i mean look at him. however, the female fans especially, are pretty on guard. he’s approachable, but anytime they see him with his sister... they back out. he doesn’t mind, he loves his sister and it actually amuses him. he’s the same when it comes to the boys who hang around her too!

basically protective siblings who are always there for eo

is very neat. can’t concentrate when something is out of place. he keeps his nails short, has a somewhat flowery scent. yes, he uses female perfumes because he despises strong smells.

bug-catching was his childhood hobby just like mine’s was. used to sneak beetles in iwaizumi’s son’s backpack back then

he will never admit it but he actually asks his sister for fashion tips because his taste sucks ass so bad

basically his major problem or issue in life is getting compared to his father (he’s also a setter). he hates that so much, being hidden in the shadow of his dad, and when people just recognize him for being oikawa tooru’s son.

something he and ushijima’s child relate to so strongly. they’re friendly rivals; might end up being teammates in their career hmm

so when he’s the one stressed, he skips practice for a day just so he could recollect his thoughts. usually stays in the library to read books he picked up based on the titles; might either open up to iwa or his sister later on, it depends. then when he’s okay, he doubles the amount of training

Oikawa Rie (及川麗恵) it’s /ri-ye/ oki

so the kanjis are: "麗" meaning, beautiful and "恵" is blessed. tooru thought of this name obviously

also has curly hair like mine. has that tiny mole below her eye just like i do. actually has lots of moles over her body; one time she fell asleep on the couch her brother drew connecting lines between the moles on her arm and called them constellations. it was nice she thought but still, the next day, teru had to wear a band-aid over his nose bridge.

she’s just a year younger. is less “vibrant” than her brother, a bit more serious. has a resting bitch face and she’s not even sorry about it and i love her for that

she’s actually relieved she looks like that, or else she knows the girls in her class would flock to her just to get in her brother’s pants. usually brushes them off with “ask him, not me” or “do you think that’s any of my concern?”

her tongue her words damn never get to this baby girl’s bad side she’s gonna burn you alive. like fr when she’s angry, oh she’s gonna show you that she’s angry. but tbh she's very sweet, leaves little notes or little gifts to her friends every now and then

she just doesn’t want her brother’s heart to be broken (she’s heard stories from her mom about her dad’s many hs exes), and she knows teru’s struggles

therefore

doesn’t really like volleyball that much. it’s because she didn’t get to grow up with her dad around, she felt like it separated her from him. she’s not mad at him though. she’s very supportive of him and her brother.

used to play vb though when they were kids. but that’s all it was for her

she’s the team’s honorary manager lol the occasional “i brought you guys sumn” or “something-kun, a girl from my class says she likes you so do your best” etc

the team’s lil sister how bout that

despite being tolerant of horror games, this girl is vvvv squeamish. she cries at the sight of internal organs or blood. biology lab was the worst time of her life

when she dug up my hs videos she was shook to discover i once did theater. and thus begins her interest in theater too

and??? baby girl is actually???? really really good????

the girls she used to shut down nicknamed her “prima”, short for “prima donna” she hates it. hates it more when her closest theater buddy was the one who spread that around

immediately went to the gym to spike some balls from her brother. baby girl was crying because she was just so pissed.

she was given ice cream and sweets afterwards. ugh it’s so cute idk she’s baby to the team skksksk they protecc

in that upcoming play, her first ever performance, the whole team got front row seats and howled when she came on during curtain call; it was vvv sweet and memorable even if the guys were kinda reprimanded afterwards lmao

which is why, in return, boiis also have a hard time approaching her because damn??? the vb team as your knights???? excuse me???

oh have i mentioned she has a sweet tooth? mygod. she has a stash of sweets in her room. teru has had to sneak some away because she might get tooth aches or diabetes

her pastel nail polish is arranged by shade, her body clock is fucked up lmao she hates the mornings; has succulents by her window which she names after various characters from books/plays etc she’s for sure gonna be a theater actress tho

asks help from iwa’s son for math. even her brother’s 0% help. teru is smart but a terrible teacher. she’s an above-average student and that’s all that matters for her. she can leave the spotlight to her brother because she only craves one type of spotlight

Miya Seiichi (宮聖一) and Miya Seiji (宮聖二)

their names literally mean “聖” sacred then “一” is one, and “二” is two

atsumu thought it was funny. when they were kids, seiichi’s nickname was “juan” and seiji’s was “tutu” (i gave them the nicknames)

when the twins discovered the meaning behind the nicknames, they hated it. especially seiji, he despises it vvv much

so when they were hs, seiichi = chi, seiji = ji for the people they're close with

as we can see here, the twins unfortunately got my curls. seiichi likes his hair as is. he doesn’t like the thought of dyeing his hair just to be differentiated from his twin. in fact he enjoys twin jokes, enjoys tripping people up about it. seiji on the other hand, grew tired of his brother’s jokes and by the time hs started, he sacrifices his soft hair.

between the two, seiji is the one who has my ugly eyesight. add to the fact that he reads a lot (once he starts he can’t put it down. so he reads in the dark, in a moving car etc)

the piercings was a thing that happened between them, and their cousins (which were also twins wtf)–it was a 2v2 vb thing and they lost

surprisingly, the cousins weren't pleased bc atsumu didn't scold them for getting piercings (but for playing half-heartedly). seiichi wanted the piercings tho tbh it was the perfect excuse. ngl, seiji also wanted them.

first let's talk abt seiichi, aside from the fact he also got my mole (he feels it makes him look cuter tho)

seiichi's into vb, but not a setter. he's the ace. may or may not push through with it as a career. he hasn't decided yet. is actually a bit sad that seiji didn't join the vb club in hs, he wanted them to be like his dad and uncle.

seiichi doesn't have any uh, quirks like shutting the whole cheer squad up like his dad does. but he usually dribbles the ball five times before any serve (this is something i did before) and he likes the 'ooooh hey' thing the crowd does when he goes for a serve

his side of the room doesn't have much stuff going on except workout equipment. he follows what exercise plan i give him as da PT mom that i am, and he is very strict with his diet and with what he eats–he's close to not needing a calorie counter anymore; but not a picky eater. he loves his uncle's cooking very much and he is jealous he can't cook even if he tries

he can do beatboxing, he learned it through youtube lmao his spotify playlists are da bombest; he learns a lot in youtube tho in his free time. his current interest is magic tricks and french (he thinks he can use it to woo that girl from class 4)

he hates insects, and hates mess. he has had to scold his twin about it that it escalated to them having this imaginary line in the middle of the room

anyway, he's straightforward. but not rude. he just doesn't like any pretenses so he says what he thinks or feels is right. may or may not have led to some misunderstandings, but he owns up to his mistakes if he crossed a line

next, seiji

even if he looks like a nerd with his glasses tbh he is not he actually hates studying. you can love reading without having to love studying right? he's that dude

the only time that he regrets dyeing his hair was when he realizes couldn't change identities so his brother could take his exam for him

his side of the room is littered with his sketches, notes from books, pencils everywhere – he drew a bunch of ants one time on a paper and made it look like they're real ass ants and placed it on seiichi's pillow

to solve this problem, atsumu has planned to give him a tablet for his next birthday

quits vb in hs because he kinda lost interest? he still finds it fun but he doesn't wanna be put under the pressure that his dad and uncle left for them lmao

he's in art clubs tho

he designs banners/posters for the team anyway. they use his strategic mind from the shit he's read for any plays and stuff so when he's not drawing, he's thinking

he might look like he has no emotions, but tbh he is more emotional and empathetic than his brother. he cries easily over the simplest things, like those grandparents vids, or rescuing animals and stuff

and thats why he doesn't let people in too much bc he knows he'll be hurt (dw seiichi knows this vvv well, and even if they do have arguments, he loves his lil bro and helps him about this)

has once begged to have a cat at home–seiichi didn't want bc he knows his twin is gonna leave him for clean up lmao

he can cook period.

he's gonna either be an architect or an animator, still hasn't decided.

his music taste sucks lmao. his youtube recents are filled with cooking stuff; in constant conversation with his uncle abt cooking lol it be cute sometimes atsumu is jealous bc he feels his son is closer to his brother than with him

he is forgetful that's why his stuff is messy lol he keeps misplacing stuff, sometimes it's literally in front of him and he's just 'where????'

but remembers dates well, remembers plays well. he's good at nitpicking tiny nearly insignificant details. just anything outside studying? he's good. dw he passes his classes but he hates giving effort for that shit lololol

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #saleeta

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baekuaena · 4 years

Text

Shadows

Zoe and Baekhyun have known each other since they were childs. Brother and sister, best friends, lovers. Shadows

Destiny is not etched in stone. Fate doesn't exist.

And sometimes the shadow must be set free

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You are sitting on this comfortable chair, made of red velvet and wood. In any other occasion, you would take some time to appreciate the caress of velvet on your skin and how the cushion you are sitting on seems to conform to the shape of your body; But your muscles are tense and your mind is only concentrated on one idea.

You glance nervously to your left. He is standing by the window, his arms to the sides, staring at you as if he is waiting for you to say something, but it would be too risky to talk to him right now.

- Do you know why you are here?

You turn your head toward the doctor. He is quite old, in his fifties as the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes can attest. His hair is white, and his eyes are light blue, like the color of a blue lagoon on which the sun is mirrored on a hot day of summer. His entire person seems to have been through some bleaching process that wiped every bright color out of him. He looks like a living ghost.

- My mother asked me to come to this appointment, Doctor, you answer vaguely.

- Do you know why? The doctor insists.

You look to your left again. He is smiling at you and, in his crescent eyes, you can read love and support. He mouths “I love you” slowly and distinctly and you feel your heart getting warmer in your chest.

You are not alone in this.

- I do not know Doctor, you lie.

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

Little Zoe is playing on the playground. There is this big sandpit, but it has been raining for a week and her mother forbid her to go in it. Instead of digging into the sand, she has set her eyes on the swings and is now moving her legs backward and forward in order to move a bit. Sadly, she is a little thing, and the wind is blowing. Despite all the efforts she puts in, she does not swing much.

- Mom! Please push me!

Her mom is reading a book, sitting on a bench. As usual when she reads, Zoe’s voice doesn’t distract her from her reading and the little girl sighs. She hopes her mother will find her a dad someday and that the two of them will give her a little sister or a little brother so that she would have a playmate at last.

- Do you want me to push you?

Zoe jumps out of the swing with fright and turns over quickly, ready to defend herself like her mother has taught her.

It is with her two hands raised in front of her face in a defensive position and fright into her green eyes that she meets Baekhyun for the first time.

Zoe and Baekhyun are eight.

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

- As you probably already know, I have been talking with your mother. You know she is genuinely concerned about you.

You roll your eyes. When will that old hag finally let you go and let you live your life on your own?

- To be honest Doctor, I’m only here to please my mother. I don’t really know what she has told you but I’m a hundred percent sure that everything is fine with me. I should apologize for wasting your time.

You smile and behind the frowning doctor, he raises his thumb into the air in sign of encouragement.

The doctor writes something down on his papers and you sigh. Outside, the sun is shining. You and Baekhyun should be having a picnic by now and not being trapped in this rathole.

- She told me you have a friend, the doctor says. I think she mentioned his name. Does the name Baekhyun ring any bell?

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

Zoe is in mathematics class. She hates maths. Everybody hate maths, why do they need to know about stupid Pythagoras and Thales; the men have been dead for centuries.

The teacher is rambling on and Zoe is not paying any attention. Three tables away from her, Baekhyun is half asleep, his hand supporting his head, but he is placed in such a way that the teacher can’t tell if he is asleep or studying ardently.

You little sh-, she thinks

She grabs the handmade peashooter she has made from a ballpoint pen and hasten to insert a tiny ball of paper in it. From the way Baekhyun’s head is turned, she is sure she can hit him in the eye and wake him up. She approaches the peashooter to her lips, takes a deep breath and blows.

The insult that comes out of Baekhyun’s mouth when the paper ball hits him is covered by the school bell ringing and Zoe laughs out loud.

- The fuck you’re doing Zoe, grouches Baekhyun as they both meet outside of the class. You know that the peashooter wasn’t supposed to be used on you or me!

He rubs his right eye and moan in pain.

- Did I really hurt you?

Zoe is not laughing anymore. She just wanted to wake her best friend up because she was bored, not make him a one-eyed man.

Baekhyun is still rubbing his eye and Zoe can’t tell yet but he’s smiling.

- No you didn’t, you idiot, Baekhyun exclaims suddenly as he opens his arms and imprisons his friend with them.

He passes one arm around her neck and rubs the top her head with his fist. She screams, outraged by the little game of her friend and yells at him to let her go. He laughs.

Zoe and Baekhyun are thirteen.

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

- Zoe, do you know who I am? Do you recognize me?

You frown. The doctor is looking at you as if you were some kind of freak.

- I’ve never seen you before, how the hell am I supposed to recognize you?

The doctor writes something down on his papers again. The friction of the fountain pen on the paper is the only sound in this cold wooden room. Why do doctors always have wooden rooms to receive patients? It doesn’t feel warm or comfortable, it just feels intimidating.

By the window, Baekhyun finally moves and places himself just behind the doctor to read over his shoulder. From the look on his face, you are guessing that what the doctor is writing is not a delightful novel and your heart is tightening into your chest.

- Zoe, if you don’t remember me, do you remember Baekhyun?

- What an odd question, of course I do.

The doctor writes something again and you stretch your neck to read some of it, in vain.

- Who is Baekhyun then?

Behind the doctor, Baekhyun looks up and stares at you. You blush slightly. You have confessed to Baekhyun years ago but having to do it again all of a sudden because of the doctor pressuring you is not that easy. Nevertheless, the words come out of your mouth without you really thinking about them beforehand.

- He is the love of my life and my soulmate.

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

It is a Saturday afternoon and Zoe and Baekhyun are walking on the coastal path. The sea is calm, the wind is playing gently with their hair and some seagulls are flying in the sky.

- There, says Baekhyun while pointing to a dirt road. Follow me.

Zoe is a little nervous but the excitation she feels surpasses her apprehensions.

- You’re sure we’re not gonna get caught? She asked while going deeper into the dirt path.

The tall grasses are whipping her cheeks and one tickles her nose. She sneezes and Baekhyun turns around.

- You’re not a baby anymore Zoe, he says while imprisoning her head between his hands. We are sixteen now, you need to act like an adult!

Usually she would have made a face or spit on his face as a joke, but his eyes buried into hers are making her fuzzy, her legs are weak, and her heart skipped a beat.

Baekhyun and Zoe have been best friends for years now. They don’t have any squad like the other kids, they’re not invited to birthday parties or class gatherings. They only have each other and they have never needed a third person.

Zoe and Baekhyun. Baekhyun and Zoe. Each other's shadows.

But lately, Baekhyun is different. He is taller, his jawline is showing, his shoulders are broader and his arms stronger. The other day when they went to the beach, Zoe noticed Baekhyun’s body for the very first time while he was running to the sea. His back is muscular now and so are his abbs.

- Let me go, grunts Zoe.

The two of them continue their way into the tall grass and finally reach an area clear of any plants.

- We can sit there!

Baekhyun sits cross-legged and looks up at Zoe, still standing up.

- What are you doing, wuss, sit down! Do you have the lighter?

Zoe sits next to her friend and hands over the lighter to him . Baekhyun seizes it, smiling, before taking the cigarette they stole from Baekhyun’s father out of his pocket. He puts the cigarette in his mouth and Zoe’s gaze lingers over his pink wave-shaped lips.

She thinks it would be nice to kiss them.

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

Baekhyun is smiling at you now.

- I love you too, he says.

You know the doctor can’t hear the voice of your beloved, so you just remain quiet. You will talk to Baekhyun once you are out of this consulting room. You can’t wait to kiss him, to feel his breath on your skin and his warmth surrounding you. This room is cold and unwelcoming.

- Your mother says she often hears you talking to Baekhyun? Continues the doctor. Is it true?

You deny it. No good would come from saying the truth, the doctor would just think you are crazy and send you to the mental hospital.

- So you know that Baekhyun is no longer with us?

You chuckle. Nothing they can say could change the only fact that will always remain true as long as you will be alive. Baekhyun is your shadow. You are his shadow.

They will never be able to understand.

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

It’s prom night. Zoe is eighteen.

She is wearing a long red dress and high heels that hurt her feet. She tied her hair into a complicated bun and some strands of hair are stuck into her earrings.

She is not used to be dressed like this. She never wears heels, she prefers sneakers, and she thinks dresses are not as comfortable as the old pair of jeans she always wears.

But tonight is prom night. Tonight, Baekhyun is taking her to prom and she can’t wait to see him all dressed up in his suit.

It is 7pm. The doorbell rings.

Zoe is sitting on a chair in the kitchen and she doesn’t stand up right away. She is nervous and her head aches a little. Tonight, is the big night. Tonight, she is going to confess to Baekhyun. Tonight, she is going to tell him that she is in love with him.

Tonight, she wants to finally taste these lips she has been dreaming about for two years.

The doorbell rings again and she finally opens the door.

- Hello Darling, says Baekhyun in a weird British accent.

Perched on her high heels, Zoe loses her balance for half a second. He has never looked more handsome. His dark hair, usually done coconut style, are styled and revealing his forehead. His white shirt fits closely to his chest and Zoe can easily guess the pectorals underneath.

When Baekhyun’s eye fall on Zoe, they open wide and his jaw drops.

They face themselves for a couple of seconds without exchanging any words. Outside, the night has fallen, and they can hear the kids playing from the playground. The same playground where they met each other for the first time ten years ago.

- You are breathtaking, Baekhyun whispers .

His voice is so low Zoe is not sure if he is speaking to her or to himself., but the compliment warms her heart and she feels like she could take wings.

- Do you want to drink something? She asked shyly.

Her hands are moisty, and her heart is racing into her chest, echoing into her ears. She would not be surprised if Baekhyun could hear it as well.

- No it’s ok.

Baekhyun clears his throat, finally taking his eyes off Zoe. He seems agitated.

“No it’s ok”.

Those are the last words Zoe will ever hear from Baekhyun’s living mouth.

They go into the car together, both of them awkward for the other look astonishing and they both can’t think straight anymore.

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

Zoe was in love with Baekhyun since she was sixteen. Baekhyun realized he was in love with her best friend when she opened that door and appeared looking like a princess in that long red dress.

Prom night was written in their history. This night was supposed to be their first dance, their first awkward smiles, their first kiss.

Zoe knew she has met the one she would share her life with. She knew Baekhyun was her soulmate.

Somehow, they both knew it from the moment they met in the playground.

They would have shared a beautiful life together. Baekhyun wanted two kids, she would have given them to him. She wanted to be a writer; she would have written novels for kids. He wanted to be a lawyer; he would have been the best lawyer of the State.

Even destiny can be changed. Even what seems to be etched in stone can be erased. Fate doesn’t exist.

Unless fate is that green car and this old drunk man that collided with Baekhyun’s car.

Unless fate is that green car and this old drunk man that broke eleven bones in Zoe’s body.

Unless fate is that green car and this old drunk man that took Baekhyun’s life.

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

There is a tear on Baekhyun’s cheek, and you can’t understand why. He smiles, but you can tell from the look in his eyes that his heart is aching.

- Zoe, the doctor sighs… I need you to come back to reality now….

You frown. Baekhyun wipes the tear out of his face.

The doctor opens a drawer of his desk and gets a piece of paper out of it. He puts it in front of you.

The page is damaged and crinkles as if someone’s tears fell on it. You come closer to it, intrigued as you recognize your own handwriting.

- What is this? you ask.

The doctor stands up. He seems sad somehow.

- You should read this… This is a letter you wrote in this office a week ago, in front of me. You made me promise to show it to you if your delirium comes back…. I don’t have any other choice.

Without any further explanation, he leaves the room.

- What the fuck is going on?

You look at Baekhyun, searching for any kind of explanation. He is silently crying, and you feel like your heart is falling into an abyss.

- Baekhyun, what’s going on?

He avoids the desk and gets closer to you. You don’t really know why but your throat is choked up and some tears are already spilling down your cheeks.

He kneels down next to you and take your hand in his. The warmth of his skin reassures you for a moment, but the expression of sadness on his face just makes you want to run away forever.

- It’s going to be ok my love, he murmurs.

He kisses you slowly on the lips. Your kiss is wet and salty from all the tears and the taste of iodine reminds you of the beach Baekhyun and you used to go to as teenagers.

- Read the letter baby, he says while caressing your cheeks.

You are afraid. You don’t know what is on that paper, but you are aware that it contains a horrible truth you don’t want to know.

Or maybe deep inside you, you already know.

Your hands are shaking when you take the paper. This is your handwriting indeed.

And as the reading goes, you realize the paper crinkles from the tears you shed on it a week ago.

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

Hello Zoe

This is Zoe. Your lucid self.

If you read this, it is because doctor Zelner’s treatment didn’t work, and your delirium has come back. I am so sorry for you. I am so sorry for myself for failing on doing better.

I am sure you remember the car accident. The one when you were eighteen and heading to the prom with Baekhyun. Your knee still hurts when it’s raining outside.

On that day, Baekhyun died.

I don’t know how deep in your delirium you are. Sometimes, you know that Baekhyun is just a ghost and you are just convinced he came back to live by your side forever as a spirit. Sometimes, you don’t remember his death and think you two are married and have kids. One day, you tried to drive them to school and scared a poor teacher.

You tried to cope in your own way. You are still trying.

I know how painful it is. I know you love him. I know you miss him. I know it because I love and miss him too.

Please Zoe, you have to let him go. It’s been twenty years. He has been gone for twenty years…

I think he loved us. He never had the chance to told us but I’m certain he did. He has been a brother and a best friend to us. He would have been a boyfriend, a husband and a father if life wasn’t that cruel.

You will always love him, but you have to let him go.

You are not his shadow anymore. Don’t let him be yours.

I love you Zoe. Take care of us.

And be brave.

#baekhyun #oneshot #exo #baekhyun fanfic

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bnhaimaginesandocs · 4 years

Photo

OK!! So I’ve been getting a lot of requests about my OCs and I decided I was gonna go ahead and start sharing them!! This is my Main OC, Ruby Sorin!! I also gave her some headcanons about her family and herself below and I hope you guys like her!!! Also here you go @just-maria

Also If you like them please let me know!!! It’s gonna be a long post ya’ll so General Headcanons are under the cut!!

TW: Mentions of Parental death briefly.

FAMILY HEADCANONS

Ruby is actually not from Japan; She is from Romania. But her father, who is one of the top support engineers in the country was offered his dream position to work with Tea Idaten as their main support engineer and he took it. Moving his youngest children with him at around the end of their middle school year (so about 14/15) and encouraged them to enroll in UA.

Their mother, Alessia Castillo-Sorin, passed away when Ruby and her triplets were around 8. She passed from ovarian cancer.

Before she passed, she was a retired side kick from one of the top hero agencies in Romania; her hero name was Shimmer.

Her father, Marcus Sorin, is Quirkless; As is her Three eldest brothers; Dimitri, Jullian and Luciano.

She has 7 brothers. Only five of them are biological, her brothers Henric and Alfonso are adopted.

She’s the only girl in her family.

Her family is extremely tight knit and they all try to keep in contact with one another at least once a day. They have a family group chat. It gets a little difficult with the time zone differences but they make it work.

Most of her older brothers live in Romania still; some are scattered across Europe. Her second oldest brother; Luciano is a tattoo artist in Barcelona. The oldest twins; Dimitri and Jullian, are detectives in Bucharest who work along Henric and Alfonso’s hero agency.

Ruby is 1/3 of the Sorin Triplets. Her other Triplets are Lance and Leon; Leon is in Class 1-B and Lance is in the support course. The three of them are triple trouble and are extremely close with one another.

Her brothers visit Japan as often as possible to see their youngest siblings. There was at one point in time when they all showed up to the dorms to surprise the triplets. Their tears could have rivaled Izuku’s.

She grew up in a Pagan household!! She can read tarot cards insanely well and it’s something that’s helped her come up with her hero name.

Out of all the older siblings; Ruby is closest to Luciano and Dimitri.

QUIRK HEADCANONS

Her Quirk is called Shine!! It was her mother’s quirk and she was so happy when she got it. Basically with Shine she can manipulate the light particles around her’s and other’s body! (so long as she is touching them; like holding onto their hand and it has to be skin on skin or it won’t work with another person.) due to this; Ruby’s skin seems to always have a luminescent glow around her skin that she can amp up or tone down. Her brothers like to call her a walking flashlight.

With her quirk she can move faster than the average person, traveling at short, instantaneous bursts. She can only do this around 10-12 times. And it can only be to a predetermined location. It has been theorized by her and others that she could travel at the speed of light but she refuses to entertain the idea as it could rip apart every atom in her body.

She can also shoot light in concentrated beams from any point in her body. Mainly her hands and feet. She calls it her Lumi-Shoot.

Her hero name is The Scarlet Witch; mainly because when she uses her lumi shot, it looks almost scarlet in color. Also because of her hair.

Due to her quirk’s main thing of being blinding enemies doesn’t mean Ruby is immune to the effects of the brightness; She actually has to have custom contacts made to help protect her eyes along with her contacts.

Out of all of her brothers; she was the only one to fully inherit her mothers’ quirk. Her brother Lance can only illuminate his hands which is useful for working support; Her brother Leon however inherited their maternal grandmother’s quirk which is manipulating water.

She considered using her mom’s hero name but decided against it. Opting to make her own.

GENERAL HEADCANONS

Ruby’s birthday is May 25th, making her and her brothers Gemini.

She Placed in the top 30 of her entrance exam.

Her hair is extremely curly and unruly; she has a lot of trouble taming it and it sometimes looks like a “lion’s mane” as her brothers call it.

She is Bisexual and not scared to admit it. Her first crush when she came to UA was Uraraka; she literally couldn’t speak to her with out blushing and it was adorable. Her brothers didn’t let her live it down for a month.

She’s a naturally sweet and very warm person; the kind that you look at and think “oh they can’t possibly have a mean bone in their body” but actually Ruby is extremely sassy and sarcastic; she just tends to keep it to herself and her close friends more often than not. She finds it hilarious when people realize she isn’t as innocent as she seems.

Also growing up with 7 brothers she learned how to stand up for herself pretty early on so she doesn’t take shit from anyone.

Her favorite colors are Green, Red and Blue. Specifically Emerald, Wine Red and Cobalt Blue.

Her nicknames from her family are Little Lion and Sunshine.

She has a little black cat named Salem and she loves him more than life itself. He moves into the dorms with her and becomes something of Class 1-A’s Mascot along with Koda’s bunny.

She has Anxiety, Depression and PTSD (the last one mainly from the training camp incident where she was seriously injured); she’s on medication for anxiety and depression but meets with a counselor every other week for therapy.

She reads tarot cards on the side to make some pocket money, but she always gives them for free to her classmates.

She’s Hellenistic Pagan specifically; a fact she somewhat keeps to herself, but will gladly discuss her religion with anyone if they broach the subject first. Her deities are Aphrodite, Persephone and Hades. She’s even let some people in the class see the altar she has set up in her room when they move into the dorms.

Her favorite teachers are Midnight, Eraserhead and Present Mic in that order. She loves Midnights confidence and fun loving attitude. With Mic it’s because he always makes an effort to help her. And with Eraserhead; it’s because he’s saved her life and also because she can tell he cares deeply for his students.

She’s typically with her brother’s most lunch periods in the support room since Lance is a workaholic and doesn’t know when to stop and take a break.

Ruby actually gets along pretty well with the Bakusquad and the Dekusquad. Although she’s seen hanging out with the Bakusquad more often than not since she’s super close with Mina.

Her and Mina get along like a house on fire. And when those two are together they’re bound to get in trouble. She also gets along well with Aoyama, finding him to be smarter and more insightful than people really give him credit for.

She has a small crush on Shinsou

And on Kaminari.

She’s having a dilemma someone help her.

She and Kaminari also get along super well and she finds him to be hilarious. He also has the same taste in books as her.

She finds Bakugou more funny than anything else and just laughs at him when he threatens to blow her up. She’s spent years dealing with Jullian, Bakugou is nothing.

She also likes Tokoyami a lot; she finds him to be intriguing.

She has a box full of Polaroid pictures that she took when everyone moved into the dorms and she typically takes a lot of them still. She also owns a record player with a crap ton of records she got from her mom and dad.

She loves vintage things and punk things so her wardrobe can go from cottage core to punk/emo there is no in between.

Her room is very cozy and always smelling of whatever incense she burned that day; most of the time it’s peach and sage. She also has a ton of fairy lights hanging around the room and it’s always just very soothing. She also has a lot of candles. Like a lot. She has a problem.

She smells like pomegranate a lot of the time due to her body spray and sometime really warm like sunlight.

She’s scary good at Hero History and Hero Law. But she sucks absolute ass at Math.

I’ll add more to her soon!

PEOPLE I SHIP HER WITH

I typically ship her with Denki or Shinsou; Sometimes even as a poly ship.

But i’m open to shipping her with just about everyone.

But Mainly Denki and Shinsou. Because I just think they would be adorable together you know? Purple Emo Boy dating not one bu two Balls of Sunshine? Yes please. Sign me UP!

#my oc #my bnha oc #ruby sorin #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bnha oc #my oc headcanons #my bnha oc headcanons

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

Text

No more math and history, summer time has set us free ch1

Ao3 link

Camp Durrandon was the same as it had always been. Two lines of sixteen cabins, separated by gender and age, and two more lines of staff cabins in behind. The mess hall, the showers, the sports field, the drama barn, the campfire circle, the stables. They were all the same. The lake gleamed in the summer sunshine, the canoes tied and floating. The trees spring up behind the camp buildings, the forest the same as it had been for a hundred years, as it would be for a hundred more.

Even as she climbs out of the bus, Arya can’t believe it’s been four years.

The three buses pull into the front, in order of the distance of their departure; King’s Landing, Old Town, White Harbour. Standing around, Arya feels like a tree rooted in place. The majority of the children milling around her are in camper yellow, their names and cabin numbers currently being written on their backs by the blue clad unit counselors. Arya spies her brother Bran, carefully guiding his wheelchair down the bus ramp, in his CIT red.

Arya feels somehow both perfectly in place and out of place. Sixteen years old, despite her small size, her jean shorts and purple shirt mark her for what she is this year, a junior counselor. The picture on it, of the horses below the seven pointed star, tells of what. Horseback riding this year.

On one side is her sister Sansa, seventeen and in purple like her. Her shirt, unlike Arya’s, bears an image of mummer’s masks, she’s teaching drama this summer. On her other side is Meera Reed, an old friend. Eighteen and in the green worn only by senior counselors, she puts her hands on her hips and addresses Arya.

“I can’t believe you betrayed me. You always said when you could come back to camp, you’d teach archery with me. I’m stuck with another Mormont this year!”

Arya smiles.

“Lyra had a foot in ahead of me, the Mormonts have run archery here since we were campers. And there's another one after her, so there might be another coming too.”

Meera still looks miffed, but they drag their bags to check the list for which staff cabin is theirs this year.

Sansa’s going to be in Cabin 2 with Margaery, the drama senior counselor, and the aforementioned Mormont. Arya feels a pinch of heartache. When she was younger, she always shared a cabin with her sister, even when they should have been in separate age groups. Meera’s finger spots their names, they’re in Cabin 3, right next door.

“At least we’re in the same cabin,” Arya wheedles, “Who’s our third?”

Meera runs a finger down the list.

“Ygritte.”

Arya’s surprised. She had heard from Jon that she was planning to return to camp that year, but she still hadn’t been sure if she would get to see her at all.

Well, since it turns out the list says Ygritte’s the senior riding counselor, she’ll get to see her a lot.

Cabin 3 is a short walk up a hill, under a tree.

“I don’t remember the staff cabins being this far from the mess hall,” Arya complains.

Meera laughs.

“It’s been four years Arya, you might have forgotten a lot of things.”

The cabin contains three cots with trunks, a table, and a small bathroom. Arya throws her duffel on her cot and starts unpacking as fast as she can. She cringes at the sight of her two pairs of jeans. The Stormlands are extremely hot and humid in the summer, but you can’t ride horses in shorts, so she’s stuck.

“I’m going to go check on things in the stables,” she tells Meera, “And then down to the waterfront.”

“Will you make it to orientation?”

“I’ll try, but it’s not like Brienne can send me home if I don’t.”

“Don’t test her, she might,” Meera warns.

With a laugh, Arya leaves the cabin. The stables are in back of the camp, next to a trail that leads into the Mistwood National Park that the campgrounds are a part of.

They are much as she remembers. Dusty wood and the ever present smell of animal and leather. She stops to pet Nan, the old mare she had learned to ride on all those summers ago, on the nose, before she continues her search.

She doesn’t find what she’s looking for, but before she leaves, she runs into Ygritte, literally. The senior green pairs well with her flaming red hair.

“Didn’t see you there, sorry,” Arya’s voice rushes, as her breathing returns to normal.

Ygritte raises an eyebrow.

“So I take it I get you as my underling this year?”

Arya laughs. Ygritte’s only twenty, but always seemed to Arya like she was so much older than her.

“And cabin mate too. Don’t worry, we gave you the bunk closest to the bathroom. “

“I’ll be up there, I just had to come down and see old Crow here for a bit,” she tells her, rubbing the old black gelding on the nose.

There’s a long silence, which Arya breaks with a cough.

“Has Jon written to you since he shipped out?” she asks. There’s no reason to beat around the bush.

Ygritte smiles sadly and shakes her head.

“He hasn’t written us either,” she assures her. Arya’s memory of Jon leaving home in his uniform, promising to write them all about training and what he’s being taught. He’d enlisted the day of his eighteenth birthday, and had been gone since.

“I wouldn’t expect him to,” Ygritte admits, “I know the WAF takes training seriously, we used to go past the airfields all the time on long rides.”

Ygritte was from the north like them, but the far north. The far, far north. The part where you could ride on a road for hours and hours and never pass a single town. She lived on a sheep station. Arya still wasn’t sure why she even came to summer camp, it seemed to her like her normal life was like camp.

It’s with a curt nod that Arya leaves Ygritte to whatever it is she was doing.

The waterfront remains the same, the rocky shore and the dock, the lines of canoes. The posted signs every few feet, of the strictly enforced rules.

Arya steps in the lake, just far enough to get her feet wet. The feeling of the cool water and algae collecting on her toes is one she’s missed terribly. It had been far too long.

Her reminiscing is interrupted by a whistle that makes her jump and trip onto the ground.

“No swimming!” a voice behind her yells.

She stands back up, rubbing her bruised backside.

“I wasn’t swimming, I was standing-”

She turns to where the other voice is coming from, her own freezing up in her chest.

Taller than before, and broader than ever. His hair wasn’t quite as long, but his blue eyes are just as bright.

Completely unbidden, Arya feels a smile sprout upon her face.

“Gendry Waters,” she says, sauntering towards him. Her insides are doing an energetic dance, but she’s always been strangely confident around him. He’s wearing the red and white t-shirt and trunks marking him as a lifeguard, the ultimate authority over the waterfront. “This place must be hard up if they gave you gainful employment.”

He grins, wolfishly, and her stomach does a series of increasingly acrobatic flips

“Arry,” he says, his voice disbelieving, “Never thought I’d see you back here. You look-”

“The same?”

Arya knows that’s not completely the truth. She was a skinny little shrimp at twelve, and had been the victim of an utterly terrible haircut earlier that summer. She still wasn’t exactly tall or womanly, but she thinks she looks less like a little homeless boy than before. Shirt color aside, she’s even dressed exactly the same.

“I finally started showering regularly and brushing my hair of my own accord. Sansa was so pleased.”

She eyes the whistle and shirt, and whistles herself.

“You’re the lifeguard now? What happened to Anguy?”

Gendry chuckles, and Arya feels the memory of the goofy old lifeguard, the one who so often looked the other way for their group’s little pranks.

“Anguy got the boot last summer when he got caught with a girl in his cabin.”

Arya raised an eyebrow. Anguy was charming and decently looking, he’d always had girls all over him.

“How was that strange, it can’t have been the first time?”

Gendry inhales roughly.

“It’s been a few years since you were here Arya, Anguy was twenty-two last summer...the girl he got caught with was only seventeen.”

Arya feels her lungs deflate.

“Classy as always I guess.”

There’s another pause, but it’s a comfortable one. She was always so comfortable around him, despite the reminder of how many years it had been.

“What else have I missed?” she asks.

Gendry puts his hands behind his head, chewing on his lip while he thought it over.

“Lommy and Weasel haven’t come back for a few years. Hot Pie skipped a year, but he’s working in the kitchen this summer.”

“Really?” Arya asked, surprised. Hot Pie had always been large and very fond of food.

“I worked in the same restaurant he did in King’s Landing this past year, and I let him know there was an opening here and he jumped at it. Wants to go to culinary school after he graduates.”

Arya laughs, thinking of the boy who’s greatest asset to their group being his ability to sneak them all extra snacks working in a loud kitchen.

“What about you?” Gendry asks.

Arya feels her stomach drop.

“What about me?”

“Have all of the illustrious Starks returned to camp for real this year?”

Arya pauses too, and hugs her middle.

“Sansa and I are junior counselors- she’s in the drama barn, I’m at the stables. Bran’s a CIT, Rickon’s the only of us who’s still an actual camper.”

Gendry’s eyes fade for a moment, so she continues.

“Jon joined the WAF as soon as he finished school, they haven’t even given him leave. And Robb is trying to work out the mess that is Dad’s company…”

Her voice trails off. Talk of the company always meant having to talk about Mum and Dad being gone, and she’s not ready to repeat all of that, not even to Gendry.

“Seven hells,” Gendry curses, “They’ve really got Jon up there flying planes?”

Arya smiles.

“We don’t know yet, he might end up a navigator or a mechanic or something. Not all of them can be pilots.”

Arya’s chest is warm. It’s such a pleasant feeling, and like being back at camp, it feels like it’s been too long since she’s felt this way.

“Gendry!” a voice says. Arya turns, and sees the source, a girl perhaps a year her junior with dark hair in CIT red, “We’re going to be late for orientation.”

“I’ll catch up to you, Shireen!” He yells after her. He turns and points down the path, and the two of them begin to walk side by side.

“Who’s she?” Arya asks. She doesn’t recognize her. And after attending Camp Durrandon from the ages of eight to twelve, she expects to.

“My foster sister, she’s never been here before.” Gendry replies. His eyes look a little haunted at the words, and Arya’s heart aches, remembering his stories of having to spend his childhood being bounced around like a pinball. It was only through an outreach ministry that he had even been able to attend camp.

When they speed up, Arya’s eyes go wide seeing the side of Shireen’s face which is angry pink and puckered, as though she had been burned.

Her mouth starts to open involuntarily, but Gendry grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“Don’t say anything. Please.”

And with a deep breath, Arya keeps her words to herself. Gendry looks surprised, she understands. She could never do that before.

They file in among the crowd for orientation, colorful dots among a sea of yellow. Up front, at the flagpole stands Beric Dondarrion, the camp owner, and Brienne, in Arya’s childhood the indomitable head girl’s counselor, now the activities director.

She’s got a clipboard and her whistle, and she’s making the same announcements that precede every camp session. Arya knows them by heart: no wandering outside camp by yourself, no going into the forest, no screwing around at the waterfront, lights out at 9. As an activity counselor, Arya has extra responsibilities, namely the upkeep of all the horses and the stables themselves, but also extra perks. Among them, better pay, and that once lights out came, no one much cared where they stayed.

Brienne leads the group around camp, showing them the cabins, the waterfront, all the activity areas. The tuck shop selling overpriced candy and t-shirts. The bathrooms, showers and laundry.

Orientation ends at the mess hall, a glorious smell emanating from within. Only the kitchen is actually inside, the line moving past several service windows ending in the open salad bar. The rest of the hall is long wooden tables under the cover of a white canopy, printed with the seven pointed star.

Fried chicken on the first night appears to still be the tradition. Arya plunks two drumsticks on her tray along with a heap of potatoes, before moving along the line and joining the others at the staff table.

Gendry’s barely poking at his food as he keeps turning to where Shireen sits. The CITs sit out among campers, they’re being trained on making sure they behave. Arya’s eyes follow his, and when they recite the grace of the seven before eating, Shireen looks completely bewildered.

Arya catches Gendry’s eye curiously. He reaches under the table and squeezes her hand.

“Please don’t ask here, I’ll tell you later.”

Later, when the welcome sundae bar comes out, she returns the words. They stand to get in line, when Bran rolls in front of them, leading his cabin to the line.

“I’ll tell you later too.”

Once the meal has winded down, Brienne stands and leads everyone to first-night campfire.

The smell of the wood smoke fills Arya’s nose, and she breathes it in. It smells like burned marshmallows and coming home.

Missandei has apparently become the campfire leader, sitting at the microphone holding her guitar. Arya is pleased. Missandei speaks five languages and knows lots of songs in all of them, not just the goofy ones about the Maiden and the Smith.

Arya spares a glance across the fire to where Gendry has sat down next to Shireen. It suddenly occurs to Arya where Shireen’s confusion might come from. If it weren’t for the grace before meals and the silly songs at campfire, you could forget quite easily that Camp Dundarron was run by the United Westerosi Church of the Seven. Arya frowns. Even in the north, where more than half the population attended other churches, most people still recognized the symbols and prayers.

Eventually, Missandei’s voice quiets, and Brienne claps to alert time to return to units.

When they make it up the hill toward cabin 3, Ygritte takes off. She’s on first patrol that night, and gets to walk around shining flashlights into each cabin to ensure lights out is being followed. Arya changes into her pajamas, sweat shorts and a t-shirt with the logo of the White Harbour Direwolves, a local baseball team. It used to be Jon’s, and nearly comes down to where Arya’s shorts end. Laying back on her bunk, Arya asks Meera,

“Do you think Brienne still has that weird saddle Jojen used to have to use?”

“The one with the seat belt and the extra straps? Probably, they didn’t have to get it special or anything, I think it’s been around since the older Tyrell’s were here.”

That makes sense. Margaery’s older brothers both had been to camp years before any of them, and she’d heard that Willas kept riding years after he’d been thrown from a horse. Arya’s face turns pensive. She wonders where it’s ended up.

“Trying to get Bran riding again?” Meera asks.

Arya nods.

“There’s a ranch that does therapeutic riding up further north from us, but we haven’t been able to work out the logistics of getting him there yet. I thought maybe if I could get him excited about it again, he would push us more at home to figure it out.”

There’s a pause, and Arya asks something that’s been bugging her since they got off the bus.

“Why didn’t Jojen come back this summer? You said you’ve been here every year.”

Meera’s quiet for a minute.

“He ended up in A&E at the end of the school year. He’s on a clinical trial now to see if a new anti-seizure medication works for him, and can’t be too far from a hospital for monitoring. He was so upset when I left.”

Arya’s chest tightens. She hadn’t meant to poke a wound.

Once Ygritte returns and flops onto her bunk, Arya stands.

“I’m going out for a bit.”

“Heading to the kissing tree?” Ygritte asks with a smirk.

Arya snorts, and ignores the fluttering in her chest. She’s referring to the tree behind the stables, next to the sign where Mistwood Park starts, and the property line ends. It’s one of the only parts of the camp that can give you a modicum of privacy.

“Just to the pier.”

Ygritte's rolled onto her stomach and is out already. Meera shrugs. She’s pulled out a book and has it open against her knees.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll make it to the kissing tree eventually.”

Arya leaves the cabin, huffing, and wishing she had never confided in Meera years ago about the last time she had snuck out the pier.

It was an easy enough walk. Their little crew, the Brotherhood Gendry had called it once, would sneak out after lights out. Hot Pie would sneak them all extra snacks, and they would plot itching powder revenge and sprees of short sheeting.

The last time they had done it, it had just been the two of them.

Halfway there, she wonders if Gendry will even be here. It’s been four years, they can’t have kept it up that long, really?

But there he sits, at the end of the pier, feet dangling in the water. Arya’s chest tightens at the sight, the moon is reflecting off his dark hair, shorter than he used to wear it.

She tries not to think too hard about the last time they’d come out here, that night that it had been just them. “Sansa’s gone off to the kissing tree with Joffrey,” she had told him, huffing. “She won’t shut up about it, and won’t believe me that he’s mean to all the other kids.”

“Let that be her problem. I’ll help you sneak into his cabin and drop stink bugs in his clothes.”

Arya had giggled at that. It seemed appropriate. She had still felt huffy though. Ever since Sansa had met Joffrey that summer, she hadn’t wanted to spend any time at all with her.

There’s something else too.

“Why does everyone make such a fuss about kissing anyway?”

Arya had gotten her period earlier that summer, and questions like that had started coming to her more and more. Most of the other girls, even Sansa and her friends, had been so nice about it too, actually answering her questions instead of laughing and leaving her behind. It had been a change, like those silly pamphlets they got in school had described, but Arya, somehow, didn’t feel any different at all. Most of the time.

Gendry had shrugged at that.

“Cause it’s fun, I ‘spose.”

Arya had pouted. Not that she’d assumed he’d never kissed a girl, he was fourteen after all, and that seemed so much older than twelve.

“If it’s so fun...can you show me?”

Gendry was taken aback.

“How come?”

Arya huffed even further.

“Cause I want to know!”

Gendry had looked back and forth, half looking like he was worried someone was going to sneak up on them, half like he was certain this was a prank.

“Promise you won’t push me in the lake?”

Arya thought from the outside it must have looked like a first kiss from the movies, with the clear blue lake in the background and the moon hanging overhead. It made her feel that way too, giddy, warm, her heart racing.

That was the last time she saw Gendry. All of the Starks were gone from camp in the morning. Arya sits beside him at the end of the pier, tucking her knees up to her chest.

“Which of us should go first?”

After a moment of silence, they both stick out their fists.

“Dragon, wolf, stag!”

Arya wins, though she still doesn’t understand how stag beats dragon.

Gendry leans back against the pier, face staring upward at the stars.

“The day I got home from camp, my foster dad kicked me out. I was just glad my things were already packed and I didn’t have to throw everything in a bin bag. The woman I was sent to next was...the worst one yet. There’s still an active court case ongoing because of her. After that, I got sent to live with Mr. Davos, and him, me and Shireen have been together for three years.”

Arya nods. She’s still sitting with her knees pulled up against her. She can’t see his face.

“That was one, now it’s your turn.”

One. She only has to tell one story, or one secret. That was how these always went.

“We all left camp that morning because Beric got a call that my father had died of a heart attack.”

Gendry bolts upright.

“Life went to chaos after that. There’s more...a lot more...but that’s just my one for tonight.”

Gendry starts to lean forward. Arya’s still hunched over. His hand reaches out to rest on her back, but hesitates. Arya pushes herself back ever so slightly and his hands lingers softly against her back, the warmth going through straight to her skin. She swallows roughly, a single tear running down her cheek.

“It’s late,” she says. “We should be getting back.”

Gendry nods, though she can’t see him.

“Yeah. Swim tests are in the morning.”

Arya chuckles.

“I almost forgot about swim tests.”

“So you’re just going sleep in tomorrow, not get your clip and then spend the whole summer in a life jacket at the waterfront?”

Arya sticks one foot in the lake and uses it to fling a bit of algae at Gendry’s face.

“Your name may be Waters, but if you think I’m going to give up the title of summer-wide lake zombie hunt queen, you’ve got something else coming.”

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #fic #gendrya #summer camp au!

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hyungsnkisses · 4 years

Text

Tattoos

( ~ o l d r e q u e s t ~ )

♡ contains fluff and angst, viewer discretion is advised

♡ word count: 6.6k

♡ Describing how a soulmate makes you feel is difficult. It’s a tenacious, profound and lingering emotion which no words can encompass. Why did it have to be Min Fucking Yoongi?

♡ ♡ ♡

If you had a dollar for every time someone had asked you if you were okay today, you’d be rich beyond your wildest dreams. The deep set scowl adorning your face was very out of character for you. In fact, it gave you the opposite effect of what you had hoped to achieve.

You could tell why your parents were soulmates - they were perfect for each other. They both laughed at the same TV commercial with the dog that sang about a cleaning product, they both shared an interest in baking and classical music, they even finished each others sentences sometimes. Why did your soulmate have to be the polar opposite to you?

Your parents had given you “the talk” when you were sixteen, sitting you down with a hot chocolate and a box of tissues - both of which ended up being unnecessary. For being honest, you have completely forgotten that on your 18th birthday a name would appear engraved in silver script on your wrist to signify whom you should seek to live forever with. Until the clock struck midnight last night and a searing pain in your right arm brought you out of slumber. It was like no other pain you had ever felt before, like tiny needles were jabbing at your arteries and your flesh was being burned with a red hot poker. You imagined this was what getting a real tattoo felt like, but it didn’t ease your racing mind and your churning stomach. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours, but once it was over it was as if nothing happened. There was no blood, no bruising, and you were returned to the silence of your darkened room. You pulled at the curtain to offer some light from the full moon onto your view and stared at the simple name in shiny silver lettering written on your wrist.

Min Yoongi.

Gasping in shock, your first thought was to try and scrub your skin raw in hope that it would disappear, but you remember your mother telling you from experience. “All it did was make me more miserable,” she had told you. Your second thought was to cut your arm off, but that would have caused a far bigger mess than the one you were currently in. So, while lying on your back in a starfish shape staring up at the glow-in-the-dark planets attached to your ceiling, you did the last option.

You self-consciously tugged at your long sleeves for the millionth time this lesson, struggling to focus on the whiteboard with lots of equations you didn’t understand, taunting at you for not accepting the offer of a tutor. Math was not your strong point, but today it felt as if your brain had melted from your ears and pooled on the floor around you. Why on earth did Min Yoongi have to be your soulmate? You were polar opposites.

Min Yoongi was barely at school, occasionally dropping in on his exceptionally loud motorcycle and attending one or two classes per week. His presence was like that of a really bad car accident; you couldn’t help but stare at him even though you didn’t want to. When he pulled his helmet away from his head, the bleach blonde locks that he shook gently fell into the perfect place. Some days he tucked a headband under his choppy bangs, and some days he opted for a baseball cap that pulled the hair flush to expose his forehead. He was the definition of a college frat boy without the obnoxiously arrogant personality. You had watched from afar many times as he rejected yet another girl whom confessed their love to him - what they saw in him you had no idea - with a firm shake of his head and a tug on his backpack. When he graced the hallways of your school he kept his head down despite everyone staring at him, but caused a scene during breaks where he would harass freshmen for answers to the next classes pop quiz or for their lunch money. He was an odd fellow that you couldn’t put your finger on.

You were so distracted by thoughts of your ‘soulmate’ that you had completely forgotten it was your birthday. You were soon reminded when you were finally free from your lesson to find a birthday banner hanging from your locker. You sighed, twisting the dial to unlock the container. You were immediately hit in the face with helium balloons.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” Your best friend, Seoyun, called from down the hall, her dark curly hair cascading down her back. You had always been envious of her, ever since the day you were seated next to each other in Health, and today you wished she wasn’t her usual bubbly self.

“Please don’t remind me.” You huffed, wading through the streamers and balloons to fish out your music book. You had barely touched the corner of it before bolts of electricity spiked through your lower arm and caused you to whip away in excruciating pain. You put it down to heightened sensitivity due to the name reveal and that it was just a regular electric shock, as when you tentatively grabbed the book a second time you were fine. Weird.

“What’s got you so down in the dumps?” She asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes at her. “Oh! You got your name!”

“Do you want to scream that any louder?” You hissed in annoyance, walking towards the cafeteria to grab a coffee. You needed something to keep you going for the rest of the day.

“So... Who did you get?” Seojun pressed, poking your sides. You swatted her away, requesting an iced americano with an extra shot and moving to the collection area.

“I’m already embarrassed enough, I don’t want you to laugh at me as well.” You sighed, looking over the cafeteria. There was a 15 minute break between period 2 and 3, then lunch was an hour long. You looked over all the tired seniors desperately studying for finals that were a couple of months away, their tired forms slumped over a laptop or a mountain of books. You empathised with them as you were doing the exact same, just not during school hours. You couldn’t possibly study as well as learn new things, that didn’t compute in your brain.

“One iced americano with an extra shot for Y/N?” The barista called and you collected your drink, feeling a warm buzz of energy from the cup. What was going on with you today? The cup felt as if it was vibrating in your hand, the dull thrum jolting throughout your entire right arm.

“Come on, Y/N. It can’t be as bad as not having one, tell me!” Seojun pressed one final time and you huffed, switching your coffee in your hands. You sympathised with Seojun, as she was probably the most excited person for her 18th birthday. It meant she was able to find the one she would spend her life with, and sadly she wasn’t blessed with a name. You felt guilty for being so embarrassed with your mate; Seojun would kill to be in your shoes, even if it was Min Yoongi. The buzzing of your coffee was still present in your other hand, although not as strong, so it couldn’t just be the effects of the name reveal process last night. Seojun gasped audibly as she looked at your rolled up sleeve, her eyes wide like saucers. You simply nodded in an ‘I told you so’ type of way.

“I told you it was bad. Anyway, I’ll see you later.” You waved at her as you parted ways down the corridor, making your way to your music class. You took a sip of the strong substance in your hands, the taste hitting you like a truck. Your vision blurred and you suddenly felt dizzy. What the hell is going on? Your mouth had become dry and you couldn’t see straight, the corridor moving in ways that only happen in those stupid American comedies. There was a brightness from the high windows that caused a headache to sear through your eyes, the situation becoming so overwhelming that your legs buckled underneath you. All it took was a blink, and you were transported into a different part of the school. It took you a few seconds to place where you were, registering the principal’s office from the large green potted plant in the corner and the family photo on the desk in front of you.

“Your grades are dropping dangerously low. Myself and your teachers are concerned that you may have to retake your last year of school again.” The principal was looking at you with sympathy in your eyes. What? This can’t be right, you thought, my grades are near enough perfect.

“Sir, with all due respect, I have a lot happening in my home life, so it’s difficult for me to come into school every day.” A raspy voice that didn’t belong to you spoke, sounding very familiar. There was a dull haze in the corners of your line of vision, registering that you weren’t the one in the principal’s office. You felt like you were in a daydream, but you knew for a fact it wasn’t your own.

“We can put procedures in place to help you, Yoongi. That’s what we’ve been telling you for the last six months.” The principal spoke again. Did he say Yoongi? Were you trapped in Yoongi’s mind somehow?

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need your help. What I need to do is go home.” Yoongi politely declined and left the principal’s office. You watched through the fog and brightened scene before you as Yoongi made his way through the corridors and into the parking lot of the school, seating himself on the back of his motorcycle. He sighed, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. The smell filled your nostrils and you contained the reflex to cough up your lungs. While you knew that it was a daydream and not real, you were unsure if Yoongi would be able to hear you if you uttered even a single sound. He took a sip of the drink he had been carrying, and soon the bitter liquid flooded your tongue. Americano.

“Y/N? Y/N, wake up.” Someone was smacking your cheeks and you sat up abruptly, swallowing your mouthful of coffee. “Good, you’re awake, are you alright?”

“I... I think so.” You mumbled, looking at your surroundings. Quite the crowd had gathered in the hallway to gawk at your confusion, your coffee spilled on the floor in front of you. You could practically hear the tutting from the janitor already. The school nurse crouched in front of you and helped you to your feet, gave you a brush down and asked if you wanted to call your parents, which you refused. All you wanted to do was go to your class and get the hell out of there. You straightened your skirt and made your way down the corridor, all the while question flooded your mind. Did Yoongi know that you had seen his private conversation with the principal through his eyes? Had Yoongi experienced the same with you? You wondered if he felt the same as you today, the weird electric shocks and buzzing. You wondered if your name was etched into his skin with the same silver script, and if he detested the knowledge as much as you did. You wondered if he was suffering as much as you.

“Y/N! So nice of you to finally join us.” Your music teacher, Mr. Kwon, snarled at you. He already took a disliking to you because you had undermined him as a musician more than once with your piano skills, but your tardiness seemed to add to the pile.

“Sorry, Sir, I fainted in the corridor.” You placed the pink illness slip onto his desk and his hard stare softened for the smallest of moments.

“Very well, be seated please.” You took your seat at the keyboard in front of you, logging into the computer and loading the recording software. For your final piece of coursework, you had been assigned to compose an original song that had personal meaning. While you had been toying with a few idea, you were supposed to be completing the task with a partner and, up until today, your partner had been skipping class. You sighed, slipping on your headphones and listening to what you currently had. You hated to admit it, but writing sad songs was probably the only thing you’re good at. You were usually a very bright and bubbly person, but as of late you had been feeling miserable. Maybe it was because you hadn’t even thought about going to college despite the application deadlines being months ago, and you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life. All you know is you loved the piano. The track that you’d started was a slow song, focused on the higher notes as the main melody. It was a good start and, while you were good at the piano, you had no idea where to start with percussion and even writing the lyrics. That’s why you were hoping your partner would be good at those things, but they are still a no show. You sighed, knowing you’ll have to accept failing your best subject.

“Miss, Y/L/N.” Mr. Kwon’s voice brought you out of your thoughts and you slipped off your headphones, shifting your body to look at him. His face was as stern as always. “Just so you’re aware, I’ve contacted your partner and explained to him that as this is an extension class and attendance is compulsory, he will be joining us next lesson even if it kills me.”

“Okay, thank you, Sir.” You offered a weak smile and he returned that was much warmer than he had ever been since you started at this school.

“Are you getting on okay at the moment?” He asked sincerely and you nodded.

“I’ve gotten the basics down, I just need to figure out what kind of percus-”

“No, Y/N, I mean in general. You seem a lot... quieter today.”

“Oh.” His statement takes you aback, you weren’t expecting to have a heart-to-heart with the teacher that hates your guts. “I’m going to be honest, Sir, not really.”

“My door is always open if you need to chat.” He smiled warmly at you once more before returning to his desk, the dull tapping of your classmates’ keyboards becoming the backing track as your thoughts clouded over once again.

Your next music lesson seemed to come in a flash, despite your birthday celebrations separating you from your endless studying. There was an odd sensation that had settled deep in your stomach right after you ate breakfast. Was it nerves? Was it something bad that you’d eaten? The bread you toasted certainly wasn’t mouldy, and the strawberry milk tasted alright, you just couldn’t pinpoint it. But when the butterflies began fluttering in your abdomen, you knew it was anxiety for something. Perhaps because in a few minutes you would meet your mystery partner and be able to finally finish your assignment with a reasonably good grade. You arrived to class a little earlier than usual, skipping your regular americano break, though you could still taste the strong coffee on your tongue. It was odd; recently you could taste tings in the back of your throat that you don’t remember eating. Take last night, your mother had made a delicious beef casserole, yet you went to bed tasting instant noodles and Pepsi. And right now, there were hints of a powdered donut to accompany the bitterness of coffee. You were too scared to speak to anyone about it in case you were going crazy.

“Okay class, pop your headphones on and get to work please.” Mr Kwon announced when walking into the room, seating himself at his desk. A dull heat pooled in your feet and spread up to your calves, twinkling its way around your nervous system. You felt like you were on fire yet freezing cold at the same time. You daren’t roll your sleeves in fear of someone catching a glimpse of your name. You knew it was nothing to be embarrassed about as 80% of 18 year olds receive their name the night of their birthday, but you wished your name was anyone else. Literally anyone else.

“You’re working with Y/N.” You heard Mr Kwon’s faint voice through the noise-cancelling headphones, and the butterflies increased and fluttered dangerously in your chest. You wondered if Yoongi was feeling how you were feeling as well. You snorted at the potentiality of Yoongi, the school’s bad boy, getting nervous. The heat seemed to rush to your head and you felt as though hot lave was about to pour from your nose and mouth.

“Hi.” A faint yet familiar husky voice spoke and you turned your head slowly to look at your partner. You felt as if the wind had been taken from your chest as you finally made eye contact. Time seemed to stop still as you took in every detail of his features: the dark brown eyes set deep into his socket, with eyelashes that fanned out over the tops of his cheeks when he blinked. The dip in the middle of his petite nose that centred his face. The faint acne scar on his right cheek, paired with a light graze accentuating the angle of his chin. His chapped bottom lip that was encased by his pearly white teeth. His blonde locks that fell into his eyes, with a beanie pulled over his ears. He waved his hand in front of your eyes and you blinked rapidly, regaining the moisture you’d lost from staring.

“I-I’m sorry, how rude of me to stare, I’m Y/N.” You cleared your throat a little, holding your hand out but struggling to meet his gaze. When his hand touched yours it was like someone had let off tiny fireworks in your brain, the popping and pinging sounds paired with bright colours seemed to put your reality into HD. You adjusted your glasses and finally brought your gaze back to him. He was grinning at you. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” He stated, finally letting your sweaty hand go and watching it fall back into your lap. “Yoongi.”

“Yoongi.” You repeated, smiling to yourself. It sounded even better when he said it. You shook your head a little, opening the software and loading the file you had previously recorded. “So, this is what I’ve come up with so far. You can change it if you want, but to be honest we don’t have much time left to re-compose...”

“No, it’s fine, it’s my fault for not turning up so we’ll go from here.” He nodded, pulling the headphones over his small ears and listening to your track. You studied his face while he listened intently, his fingers tapping to the rhythm you created, a smirk tugging at the side of his lips. Once the recording had come to it’s end, he slipped the headphones off and looked at you, smiling.

“So what do you think?” You asked sheepishly, trying to ignore the warm feeling that had settled into your stomach.

“Did you record this yourself?” He asked. You nodded.

“Wow, you’re very talented, Y/N. All we need to do is add some bass and vocals and you’ve got yourself a song.” He praised. You could feel heat spreading to your cheeks and forming a blush. You had never been complimented on your instrumental work before and it was definitely something you wanted to hear more often. Yoongi rid himself of the same black zip up sports jacket he wore almost every day, leaving him in a white long sleeved shirt, which his rolled his sleeves up. He seemed like he knew what he was doing from the way he was flicking the cursor all over the computer screen, bringing up tabs with long names you’d never seen before a tapping keys. You put your own headphones on to hear what he was doing, listening to the individual beats as he tried pairing them with the piano accompaniment. You admired his skill, being able to work a programme you still hadn’t got your head around, and you couldn’t help but wander your eyes to his wrist. You were curious, was he feeling the same things you were? Did he even have a name on his wrist? You unconsciously tugged at your own long sleeves, afraid of what he might think to know he’s potentially stuck with you as a soulmate. You even hated the word ‘soulmate’. It just all sounded so made up to you, and now that it’s happened it felt even more made up. But the head moving to your hands that were dangerously close to his made you think otherwise.

“So I’ve got a couple of beats that I’ve been working on at home that we can layer underneath - nothing too heavy, the piano you’d created sounds pretty so I don’t want to drown that out.” Then he pointed towards the monitor, and you saw it. Clear as day. How could you have missed that?

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Which one do you want to do?”

“Oh... Whichever you prefer.” You smiled, but inside your heart was doing somersaults in your chest. Min Yoongi had your name on his wrist.

The next couple of weeks had you actually looking forward to your music class and spending time with Yoongi. The school knew him as a bad boy that rarely turned up to school and smoked in the non-smoking areas, but you were getting to know a different side of him. A side that you liked, and could potentially fall in love with. Now that was moving too fast, but your entire being buzzed with excitement every time he was even near you. During break, you went to grab your usual iced american and without even looking up you could sense he was already at the counter ordering the same as you. It’s like your father had said, “once you know who it is you will feel connected to them, like a little piece of elastic tying the two of you together”. And it was, because as soon as the warm feeling radiating your stomach travelled to him, he’d look up in search of you. Once his chocolate eyes laid on your dull green ones, he smiled. Grabbing two americanos and taking a sip of one, he handed the other to you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Yoongi... You know my coffee order?” You took the cup from his outstretched hand.

“I guess my lucky hunch was right.” He shrugged, flashing his teeth in a cheeky grin. “I was wondering if you wanted to work on the music project during study break? I’ve booked the recording room so we can get some vocals down if you like.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” Yoongi smiled, letting his hand linger on your shoulder for just a little bit too long before walking in the opposite direction to you, your gaze absentmindedly following him along with the inferno he created on your skin. Thank god you decided to wear a t-shirt today, or there would be a literal fire on your shoulder. Time seemed to move slowly as he waltzed through the cafeteria, stopping only to turn back and flash a gummy grin at you, sending waves of warmth across your forehead and down your throat. While you had accepted his offer of working on your song, you were shitting yourself. You and Yoongi, alone, together. That was one sandwich away from a picnic disaster.

For once, the school day seemed to drive by faster than a formula 1 car, and before you knew it the last bell had sounded in the corridors and you were anxiously awaiting the school bell to signal the beginning of study break. You rushed to your locker and stuffed your music notes and any other books needed for homework into your backpack and hastily pulled the straps up your shoulders. You walked reasonably faster than usual to the recording studio located at the back of the music building, peering through the small glass window in the door. Your eyes fell on the back of his signature black zip up jacket and watched as he busied himself with scrolling through instagram, but as the familiar warmth bubbled in your toes he looked over towards the door, locking eyes with you and a smile growing on his face. You waved gently at him, pushing open the heavy soundproofed door and entering the room.

“Hey.” He said when you sat yourself down on the wheeled chair next to him, your arms so close that he could touch you if he wanted.

“Hey-Yoongi? What happened to your face?” You gasped, eyes darting from the bloody gash on his cheekbone, the gentle graze on his nose and the dried cut on the left hand side of his lip. You wanted to cup his cheek and take a proper look at them, but you feared he would misunderstand your intentions or slap your hand away. His eyes softened and his brows furrowed as he handed you a set of headphones.

“Oh, just something at home. Let’s get this song finished.” He offered you a final sheepish smiled and watched intently as you pulled your hair away from your shoulders into a ponytail and slipped the headphones over your ears. “I’ve been playing around with some lyrics and did a few recordings before you arrived, did you want to have a listen?”

“Sure.” You watched as Yoongi darted the cursor over the two connecting screens and pressed play on the current recording. Your soft piano melody filled your ears sweet as honey, complimenting Yoongi’s rough growl and melancholic lyrics perfectly.

“That’s right, I live because I can’t die But I don’t have anything I want to do I’m in so much pain and loneliness but people around me Keep telling me to regain my consciousness I try to vent my anger but I only got myself So what’s the point of venting my anger I’m scared to open my eyes every day and start breathing”

You gently tugged the headphones from your ears and placed them on the desk in front of you, rushing over to the recording booth and telling Yoongi to hit the red button. Your inspiration was suddenly flowing through you like the first drop of water after a drought; Yoongi’s words were so perfect and so relatable that at that moment you truly felt like his soulmate. Like you were two pieces of a messed up puzzle that fit perfectly. You cleared your throat and listened to the piano melody filling your eardrums and began singing the word exploding in your thoughts.

“So far away, if I had a dream If only I had a flying dream Don’t fall away, if I had a dream If only I had a flying dream”

“W-wow, Y/N... Your voice...” Yoongi’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish gasping for air, and you felt your face flush with embarrassment.

“Was it really that bad?” You mumbled, kicking at the scuff on the front of your new white shoes.

“Let me take you on a date.” Yoongi blurted, eyes wider than saucers. Your gaze shot up to meet his in shock. Now it was your turn to be the goldfish.

“What?”

“Please.” Yoongi got up from his seat and joined you in the recording booth, at least a head taller than you. “Those lyrics, that voice... I think I just fell in love with you.” He cracked a grin and you couldn’t help but smile back. You didn’t expect this at all from Yoongi. In fact, you don’t think you’d ever seen him smile that big before, and your heart was beating so fast you were sure it was about to explode. Your head was nodding before your thoughts had registered what nodding would actually mean for you. It means you just agreed to go on a date with Min Yoongi. Your soulmate.

“Pick me up at seven.”

You heard the familiar rumble of his motorbike and felt a warmth in your lower legs before you saw him, shouting to your mum that you’d be back late and dashing outside to greet Yoongi. As he pulled up to your front door and hushed the engine, you took a minute to take in his appearance. He was dressed in ripped black skinny jeans and combat boots, paired with a white button down shirt and a leather jacket. He looked nothing but delicious, and you had to fight the urge to salivate at the sight.

“You ready?” He grinned, holding his spare helmet in your direction. It was a soft lavender colour and had a butterfly sticker on the front. You offered a confused expression and waited for the explanation. “Oh, it’s my sisters.”

“Ah that makes sense, I don’t think lavender is your usual colour.” You giggled, slipping the helmet over your head and clipping the clasp under your chin. Yoongi held his hand out to help you climb behind him, and you gripped his shoulder for support while trying to ignore the electricity zapping into your fingers. Your inner thighs made contact with his lower back and a dull vibration spread through your upper legs, becoming more intense when Yoongi started up the bike and you wrapped your arms around his waist. You felt him let out a shaky sigh before revving on the engine and zooming out of your driveway.

The ride ended far too soon for either of you likings, the vibration dulling from the lack of contact as you hopped off the bike and took in your surroundings. Yoongi had taken you to a quaint little pasta restaurant close to campus, the menu carefully placed in between ivy and beautiful flowers. There was a soft romantic ambience about the place as you were shown to your table (in the far corner of the restaurant where barely any people would disturb you, no less) and a basket of bread with dipping oil was waiting for you to devour.

“I picked from the menu in advance, I hope that’s okay?” Yoongi spoke in a much softer voice, and your sudden increase in heart rate made you question what this man was doing to you.

“No, that’s okay.” You smiled, peering around at the soft candlelit glow and the delicate table decorations. “This place is beautiful, how did you find it?”

“One of my friends told me about this place, about how romantic and special it was... I wanted to bring someone special here one day.”

“Oh...” You felt your cheeks heat up at the sentiment, tucking your feet under your chair and sitting comfortably. Yoongi did the same, watching you gaze around the restaurant in awe once again. He couldn’t help but smile at you fondly.

The date went as smooth as you had predicted; you had spilled water on the table cloth before your starters had arrived and when you excused yourself to go to the bathroom you noticed a piece of herb stuck in your tooth. How long was that in there?! you wailed, picking at it before fixing your gloss. The bubbly warmth in the pit of your stomach was itching for you to hold Yoongi’s hand, or something, you didn’t know how long you could stand it anymore. So when he invited you back to his place to finish the music assignment your heart jumped at the opportunity.

When you pulled up to Yoongi’s house you were almost overwhelmed; it was a lot bigger than your own, with a double front door and neatly trimmed hedges lining the plot of land. Yoongi led the way, unlocking the right hand door and walking into the large hallway. He tossed his shoes on the rack and replaced them with black slippers, offering a pair for you to do the same. You slipped on the purple fluffy slippers - his sister’s, you presumed - and followed Yoongi up the large staircase and into a small room to the left of the bathroom. The walls were a bright white, the various units littered with recording equipment and all sorts of trackboards. You were in absolute awe, the amount of branded equipment in this room alone must be worth the same as what your entire house cost.

“Wow.” Was all you could manage, taking a seat in the spare desk chair and wheeling yourself towards the large monitor behind an 88 key grand piano keyboard. Yoongi flitted from place to place on the monitor just like he did at school, pulling up your assignment and opening various other files and layering them with your own.

“I’ve been working on a couple of things to make the track stand out a little better. So there’s a couple of bass notes that can be in the background, and...” Yoongi spoke a lot softer in the comfort of his own home, his deep voice causing your mind to wander. You wondered how soft his hands felt when they touched your own, what kind of shampoo he used to keep his hair so vibrant all the time, what detergent he used to keep his clothes smelling fresh all day long...

“Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” He scolded, but he was grinning. You shook your head, looking at his amused expression.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t.” You admitted. “I’m just... Wow, Yoongi, your house is incredible.”

“Yeah.” He deadpanned, looking back at the monitor. “Perks of divorced parents.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to-”

“It’s fine. Really.” Yoongi reassured, but you knew you had pried too much. You retracted your hands from on the desk in front of you and placed them in your lap, picking at your cuticles.

“Hey, it’s fine, I promise.” Yoongi’s voice was softer again, his attention completely focused on you. You looked up at him, focusing on the bruising around his eye that was fading.

“What happened to your face?” You spoke after a while, your throat hoarse.

“M-my stepdad... He’s not exactly the nicest.” Yoongi chuckled out of awkwardness, scratching at the back of his neck. “I wish life was normal sometimes, you know? I’ve been so miserable recently... Trying to keep that bastard away from my mum, and taking the brunt of his fists.”]

“I get that, I’ve been miserable recently too.”

“That’s only because I’ve been miserable.” Yoongi chuckled, turning his chair to you. You didn’t quite follow, so you furrowed your brows in question. “You think I don’t know who’s name you’ve got on your wrist?”

“I-”

“All those times you’ve been feeling miserable, or weird, or how fucking warm it is whenever we’re around each other...” He took your right wrist in his hand, tiny flames licking over his fingers, and rolled up your sleeve to reveal his name in the same silver lettering. He held his own wrist next to yours, finally showing Y/N Y/L/N in all it’s glory. “We’re connected. I didn’t believe in all the soulmate bullshit before, but now I know who my mystery girl is, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

“But Yoongi.” This was all too much for you, too much to comprehend. Min Yoongi was dangerous, he was renowned for fucking with girls then never speaking to them again. You didn’t want to be another one to add to his collection. “You’re... You’re the ‘bad boy’, you’re not supposed to be kind and sweet and all these things. You’re supposed to be the guy that all the magazines tell you not to fall for.”

“What makes you think I’m bad?” Yoongi leans his face closer to yours, the invisible elastic pulling you closer to him.

“Everyone say you are.”

“And since when do you believe what everyone says?” He asked, and he was right. You were the last person to believe what anyone said. You preferred to find things out for yourself rather than conforming to the masses, yet... How did Yoongi know that?

“How long have you known about me?” Your voice was a lot quieter now, scared that he was only going along with the soulmate idea because it’s what is supposed to happen.

“2 years.” His hand reached out and tentatively touched the skin where his name was place. It was a simple gesture, barely even touching you, but the sensations filled your very soul with warmth and you closed your eyes to revel in the feeling.

“And you didn’t speak to me once.” You sighed, your free hand placing over his to halt the motions. His eyes bored into yours.

“Well I couldn’t exactly go up to you and say “Hey, I’m your soulmate, we should date”, could I?” He chuckled, a deep hearty noise that had your eardrums ringing with joy. You smiled.

“That’s true, I probably would have told you where to shove it.” You giggled, raising a hand and gently swiping the hair from his eyes, reaching down to cup his cheek. You were right before, his skin was softer than anything you had ever imagined. “So, does this mean...”

“Yes, god yes, absolutely yes because I think I’m about to explode.” He laughed once again, using his hand to keep yours firmly pressed to his cheek, continuing his gentle strokes to your wrists. You closed your eyes as he leaned his face closer to yours, your lips barely touching. “But only if you want it too.”

“Please just kiss me, Yoongi.” You murmured near his lips, the vibrations from your voice and the sound of his name rolling off your tongue turning his brain into soup as he closed the space between you. Once your lips were pressed together, it was like the world had stopped spinning. Never in your life had you felt this euphoric, this connected, this real to someone. Yoongi’s lips were like a long lasting candy that no matter how much you sucked it would stay the same size. It didn’t matter that you were inexperienced because you melted straight into Yoongi like a stick of butter in a frying pan. You moved your other hand to his available cheek and pulled his body closer to you, if that was even possible. His free hand placed gently on your thigh caused warmth to collect, as if his hand was being stitched to you forever. His tongue felt moist and warm against your lower lip and you sighed into his mouth. He delicately explored, moving his tongue carefully with your own, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible. You were the first to pull away, your eyes still closed and your forehead resting against his, soft pants blowing against his chin.

“Why d’you stop?” Hi whimpered, brushing your hair out of your face. Your hands were still clamped to his cheeks, and you dragged them down his jaw, neck and rested them on his chest, trying to regain your thoughts.

“I- We need to get this project finished.” You whispered, grabbing his shirt in fistfuls. You desperately wanted to feel his lips on your again, almost as much as you wanted a good grade on this assignment.

“Well, you need to let go of me if we’re going to finish it.” He chuckled once more, causing you to smile. You looked back into his eyes, the hooded gaze he was giving you all too enticing.

“Fuck it.” You leaned forward into him once again, seating yourself in his lap. He leaned back in his chair as your lips connected once again, his thumbs making small circles in your hip bones. The project could wait another hour or two...

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