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#so now she’s just using this fake petty ass voice and it makes me wanna SCREAM
2manytabsopen · 3 years
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Me: my head hurts
Mom: might be your allergies
Me *who had just hit my head multiple times against a window an hour ago*: oh yeah that might be it
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ceruleanchillin · 3 years
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When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)
Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting
Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ
A:
You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.
Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.
Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.
Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.
Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.
“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.
Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”
You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.
He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.
Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.
The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.
“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.
“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.
“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”
Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.
“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.
“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”
Petty by Angel Reyes.
“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.
“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”
“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.
“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”
“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.
Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”
“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.
Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.
“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”
You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.
“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.
He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”
“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.
His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.
He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.
“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.
You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.
“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.
He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”
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C:
It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.
Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.
It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.
You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.
Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.
You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.
“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”
You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”
“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”
She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.
“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.
“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.
It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.
Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.
All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???
He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.
The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.
His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.
You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.
He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.
“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.
The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.
You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.
“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.
He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”
“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.
“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.
Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”
“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.
Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.
“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”
“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.
You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.
He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.
“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”
He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-
“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”
“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.
“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.
“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”
It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.
“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.
He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.
“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.
“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”
“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”
You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”
“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.
Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.
You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”
You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.
He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”
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E:
It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.
As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.
That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.
“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.
“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”
“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”
EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.
Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.
“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”
“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.
EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”
Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.
“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”
EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.
You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.
“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.
“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”
You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”
“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”
“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.
He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.
“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”
You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.
“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”
They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.
Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.
Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.
Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.
He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.
“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”
He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.
The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.
He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.
“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.
“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”
“I don’t mind, I know clu-“
Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”
“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.
“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.
In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.
Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.
Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.
It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.
His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.
His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?
He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.
He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.
He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.
“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”
“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”
You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”
He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.
You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”
“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.
“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”
He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”
AN:
I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.
1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️
2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.
3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.
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I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 1
Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader
Word count: 3,666
Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, and drug abuse. 
Summary: What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone?
You can find Part 2 here.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.
A/N: So, this is my first Harvey Specter fic and I’m obviously quite unsure about it, lol. This might’ve ended up like one big mess, cause I tried to combine a bunch of Harveys I wanted to see. The perfect recipe for disaster, right? Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!
(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)
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You’d barely stepped out of the elevator when you were met by your secretary that morning. That couldn’t mean anything good.
“Morning, (y/n/n). You’ve got an emergency meeting with Jessica today. Gonna give you the schedule on the way there.” Lucy stated, leading you on the opposite way to Jessica’s office.
“Oh, I got the memo; company’s under attack again. She wants me on the frontlines this time. Louis is probably running around saying ‘We’re at war, people, war!!!’, or something like that. But why aren’t we headed towards the boss’ office?”
“Apparently, uh, she wants y’all to convey at Harvey’s office.” She said hesitantly, as if afraid of your reaction.
“Are you kidding me? It’s the first hour of the morning and she wants me to go see that smug face of his?” You pouted childishly.
“Smug and hot, you mean.” Lucy corrected you, getting an outraged look from you in response, as she usually would by saying anything positive about Specter.
“Shush,” You said, motioning for her to stop talking, “ one shall not praise Harvey Annoying Specter around me.” You stated full of obstination, but the younger woman just laughed you off and said:
“Well, here we are. I guess I’ll just have to send you an e-mail with your schedule, since, once again, we spent our schedule minutes of the day talking about “the enemy”.” She mocked with gestures and everything this time. That Lucy really was a piece of work, she timed the whole thing perfectly, in a way that you couldn’t even repudiate her insinuations because you were already standing in front of Specter’s office door.
Not long after you had entered and Jessica had officially started the strategy-meeting, though, all eyes in the room turned to you, as your phone started ringing in your back pocket. "Shit! I'm- I'm so sorry, guys, I guess I-"
"Can you please take your job seriously for once in your life, (y/l/n)?" You heard Harvey Pain-In-The-Ass Specter rudely remark, as you tried to swallow your embarrassment.
“Well, like I was trying to say, I’m sorry. Gonna turn it off right now, won’t happen again.” You said, directing your apologetic look to Jessica.
“You should just go ahead and answer it, could be something important.” She calmly told you.
“Especially now that you’ve already interrupted our work.” Specter chipped in again, which just gave you more fuel to answer the goddamn phone.
“Hello, yeah this is her.” You confirmed to the man on the phone, while taking a few steps towards the corner of the room. “What??? Are you sure? Oh my God! O- okay, just tell me which one and I’ll be there as soon as possible! Right, thank you.” Everyone’s eyes were on you, trying to understand what made you look so distressed. Except his, of course.
“Wait a second. Are you leaving right now?” He asked with a mix of annoyance and irritation in his voice.
“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Jessica, but this is a family emergency. I have to go.”
“Well, I just hope you know that this doesn’t look good for you, (y/n).” She said, voice inexpressive.
“I do and, honestly? I couldn’t care less about that right now.” You firmly told her, while hoping your career wasn’t over by the next morning.
“I hope everything goes well for you and your family, (y/n). If you need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know.” Louis told you with that childish smile of his. Jesus, even in a moment like this, he tried to flirt with you.
“Thank you, Louis. That’s very kind.” You faked a tiny smile.
“Unbelievable.” 
“What?” You asked, turning back to face Harvey.
“Your firm is under attack and you’re leaving because of some stupid family crap?” Was he even serious?
“Precisely. And I don’t really care what your thoughts are on it. Our priorities are clearly very different.” Who the hell did he think he was to say anything about your family’s issues?
“Well, that shouldn’t matter because, the minute you walk in here, through those elevators out there, you’re supposed to leave all things personal behind.”
“Oh, right. I’m so sorry that I’m not some heartless lawyer like you, who’s just in it for the petty fights in the name of money-making.” Shit. You needed to get the hell out of there before you said something else to make Specter wanna kick you out himself. So you did. Stormed out like there was no tomorrow, leaving nothing but the very shocked Donna, Jessica, Louis, Mike, and Rachel behind. Oh, yeah, and a very pissed-off Harvey Specter.
Okay, maybe you were a little too harsh, but given the place you needed to go, to do what you needed to do, you didn't care about Harvey, your job, or anything else.
---
It was much later on that same day, around dinner time, that you heard a soft knock on your door. But how could someone be at your door, if the doorman downstairs hadn't announced any visitors? Were you dreaming? Well, the day had been so tiring that that wasn't exactly impossible… Nonetheless, you made your way to the door, whilst holding your very needy three-year-old nephew in your arms. Not that you could blame Henry after the day he’d had.
Since you weren’t expecting anyone, it was reasonable to believe that, whoever it was, was going to be a surprise. But not in a million years would have you ever guessed that Harvey Specter was the one knocking at your door. Especially considering what had happened at the firm earlier. How did he even know your address?
“Hi, (y/l/n). I didn’t know you had a kid.” He stated with a bit of surprise of his own, pointing to the little boy you were carrying.
“No, uh, I don’t have any.” You managed to say, trying to control your shocked expression. “This is my nephew.” You clarified again, a little more at ease this time.
“My name’s Henry. What’s yours?” You heard your nephew ask with his cute child-voice.
“Harvey. It’s, uh, it’s very nice to meet you, Henry.” Harvey told the boy, holding out his hand for him to shake, as a sweet smile came to his lips.
“Is he your friend, auntie (y/n/n)?” Henry asked you hesitantly, before making a move. The Don’t Talk to Strangers Rule must’ve kicked in his mind. 
Before answering him, you hesitated a little bit yourself, though. Was Harvey your friend? Obviously not, but if he came to your apartment in the middle of the night like this, it was probably because of something important. Work-related, of course. Which meant you’d have to let him in, so you settled for what would be the easiest classification for a three-year-old.
“Yeah, bud, he is my friend from work.” Hearing that, something in Specter’s eyes changed, you didn’t really know what, though.
“Well, then, can he come play with us?” He gave you such a cute look, that you almost said yes right on cue. But you obviously couldn’t. 
“You’d have to ask him, but I’m sure he has a lot of other, more important, things to do now.” You tried to explain to the little boy, giving Harvey a look. But you didn’t get too far, as the lawyer quickly said:
“Of course I wanna go play with you! That is if your auntie’s okay with that…” Now he was mocking you, that was the only explanation.
“Can we play with him, then, auntie (y/n/n)? Please, please, please?” God, what horrible thing could’ve you possibly done to deserve this particular punishment?
“Um, I guess... If he really has nothing better to do-” Harvey didn’t even let you finish your sentence.
“I really don’t.” He said, shooting you and Henry a bright smile that you’d never seen before.
“Okay, then, come in. Please disregard the mess, I got this stuff to make dinner, but someone just won’t detach, right, mister?” You asked your nephew with fake annoyance in your voice, as you tickled his sides a little bit. He just laughed at you. Though what really caught your attention was the fact that Harvey, too, was chuckling lightly at the scene, as he started picking up your groceries’ bags from the floor. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you, what else?” You gave him a weird look because, well, it was a weird situation. Maybe he noticed your discomfort because he added: “You look tired, so I’ll help you by making dinner and putting the rest of these away.”
“You’re kidding, right?” There was no way in hell that the All-Mighty Harvey Specter was gonna get domestic for you, of all people. Since he didn’t bother to answer, you went on: “First of all, what was it that you really came here to do, hum? And, second, I don’t need your help with anything.” Normally you tried to be kind to everyone, but, then again, Specter wasn’t exactly your normal kind of guy.
“Well, first of all,” he started in a tone of mockery, “that was rude! Look at the example you’re setting for little Henry!” Oh God, as much as you hated to admit it, he was kinda right, because you had completely forgotten about the little boy still cradled in your arms. “Second, we can talk about the reason why I came here later,” after your nephew’s asleep, was implicit in his speech, “third, it looks like you do need some help. And, for your luck, I happen to be a very good cook when I want to.”
“But-” You could barely begin your sentence, as Harvey sharply cut you off:
“You see, buddy,” he started, motioning to Henry this time, “the quicker we get your auntie on board with the game plan, the quicker we’ll get to eat and go play together!” Son of a bitch! Using a child to get to you…
“Can we please, auntie? Please?” How could you not crack after that pleading?
“Fine, but I swear I’ll make you pay if we wake up with food poisoning tomorrow, Specter.” You told him playfully, trying to lighten the mood after all of your bluntness.
“Oh, trust me, (y/l/n), you won’t. This will be the best meal you and the young man here will ever have in your entire lives.” He said cockily, but without the usual arrogance level, if that even makes sense.
A few hours and a really great dinner later, you and Henry couldn’t help but snicker shamelessly at Harvey’s ridiculous faces, as the three of you played a game on your living room’s floor. Trying to catch your breath from your giggles, you glanced up at the clock and realized that it was way too late for your nephew to be out of bed like that. So you broke up the game, announcing:
“It’s bedtime for you, Mr. Henry.” You watched the faces of the pair turn into ones of pure disappointment, as they prepared to pout.
“Just a little longer, auntie (y/n/n)! please!” The little boy started.
“Yeah, auntie, just a little longer! Please?” This time it was the grown man, one of the toughest Wall Street lawyers.
“As moved as I am by your synchrony, guys, the answer is a big no. C’mon, bud, let’s go brush your teeth. And then straight to bed. So say bye to Harvey, and thank him for being so nice to us tonight.” He looked between you and Specter as if still hoping for a hail Mary of some sort.
“Bye, Harvey.” He sounded so sad, but then he smiled brightly again, as he repeated what you’d told him to say word by word: “And thank you for being so nice to us tonight.” Hearing that, both you and Harvey chuckled lightly at the young boy, who quickly added: “Will you come see us tomorrow too?”
“Uh, we’ll, uh, we’ll see about that, okay, little man?” He tried to let Henry down slowly but, watching the boy’s expression become a sad one instantly, he added: “It’s just because both your auntie and I have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow, but I’ll do my best, okay?” That was definitely a side of Harvey you’d never seen before, he had even bent down to be on your nephew’s level.
“Okay.” Henry said quietly, seeming to be a little happier, too.
“Okay, then let’s just go upstairs already.” You took the boy’s hand to guide him towards the spare bedroom’s bathroom, all the while shooting Specter a look that told him to wait for you a little longer.
“I’ll wait for you down here.” He said, proving he understood what your eyes tried to transmit.
So you headed upstairs with your nephew and, after a good fifteen minutes of brushing Henry’s teeth, helping him into his PJs, and tucking him in, you finally managed to come back to the living room, where you found Harvey looking through some of your photos displayed on the sideboard. For a minute or two, you just watched him. It wasn’t that you liked what you saw or anything. It wasn’t. It was more like postponing the weird conversation you two were bound to have, because, after all that had happened in those few hours, the atmosphere was, at very least, a strange one. But, almost as if he’d felt your gaze on his back, the lawyer in him was switched on, and he interrupted your thoughts by saying:
“Ah, you’re back. Good, because we need to talk.” You just motioned for him to follow you into your home office. But both you and Harvey looked so informal to be in that kind of environment, that you just indicated the small couch on the wall opposite to your desk for you to take your seats in.
“So, uh, before you even say anything, I wanna thank you for being so kind tonight,” a small smile came to your lips, as you remembered, not only the evening but how your nephew had used almost those exact same words, already imitating you, a little earlier. Specter smiled too, you noticed. “and I also wanna apologize. If you came here to talk to me… I must’ve made you waste a lot of time, huh?” You tried with a half-smile this time, as embarrassment started taking over you.
“What? No, of course not! I'm pretty sure that I told you I didn't have anything better to do, didn't I?" He calmly asked with a smile.
"Yeah, but I'm not buying it. You're Harvey Specter, isn't that what you're always saying? And Harvey Specter always has something better to do, isn't that right?" You shot back in a mockery tone, regaining your confidence.
"Well, maybe. But, not today. So don't apologize, and don't thank me. I'm the one who should be thanking you, I had a really good time tonight." Okay, now you were shocked. He had a good time?
"Uh, okay, um, so... What was so urgent that you had to come here in the middle of the night?" You nervously ranted, while tugging your hair behind your ears. He just stared at you, so much so that you almost repeated your question.
"Um, yeah, about this morning… That's why I came here…" You were already guessing that that would come up eventually, but it was the topic of your conversation? "I know that you and I always had our differences, and maybe even some rivalry-"
"Some rivalry? Dude, I'm just a junior partner, and ever since I started on that firm you've been persecuting me-"
"I wouldn't say persecuting…"
"Oh, you wouldn't?"
"Not since you made junior partner anyways. Now it's just a healthy rivalry between work friends…" He tried to use what you’d told your nephew earlier. 
"Oh, so you do admit you were persecuting me when I was an associate, huh?"
"Shit." He muttered quietly, as you watched him with a victory smile on your lips. "You know what? Hell yeah, I did persecute you when you were an associate." Hearing that blunt admission of guilt, you just couldn't find anything to say. “You wanna know why? I did that because, from the first time I saw you doing your job, I saw this very thing that I see now: you kicking ass, you think I wanted to admit this to you? I’ll answer it myself: no, I didn’t. The only reason why it happened is that you led me to it.” He blurted out, completely knocking you off your socks.
“So, um, you treated, you treat me like shit because, um, because I’m good?” You asked, still unsure of what to think about his confession.
“Well, that was part of it, sure. So, you see, I could understand it when you weren’t particularly thrilled at the perspective of working with me. But, this morning, you said that I’m a heartless guy who only cares about money… Is that really what you think of me?” This time he sounded genuinely sad? When Harvey said that he’d come to your apartment to talk about that morning, you thought he was gonna reprimand the shit out of you for disrespecting him ⎯ your sort of boss, a senior partner ⎯, but, apparently, he was asking about it on a more personal level. A level you’d never really thought played a part in your relationship with him.
“Oh, Harvey…”
“Be honest, please. I don’t want your pity. You don’t even know me all that well, so don’t try to minimize anything. I can take it.”
“That’s not what I was gonna do. And, trust me, you’re probably the last person in the world I’d pity.” You told him with a sly smile. “You’re right. I don’t know you all that well. Or, at least, I didn’t this morning. But I do know that you’re not heartless. Also, I was really out of line then, I’ve seen you fighting tooth and nail for a lot more than just money in that firm. You’re loyal to your firm and friends like no one else and, tonight, I watched you sitting on the floor and playing with a little boy. And, trust me, that meant more to him than you’d ever know, especially after today… Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I was so damn wrong and that I’m sorry. I’d gotten some pretty nerve-racking news beforehand, not that that’s an excuse but...” You told him, meaning every word and trying hard to show how much you regretted your previous actions.
“Wait, what news?”
“Ah, it’s nothing for you to worry about, really.” You tried to brush him off.
“Oh, c’mon! You said all those nice things about me, but when it comes to your life and your problems you still don’t trust me, isn’t that right?” His tone was sharply inexpressive, but his eyes showed he was actually hurt.
“What are you talking about? Oh my God, Harvey! I’ve relied on you for a number of cases that I really cared about! I let you in on my apartment! I let you spend an entire night around my nephew! Of course, I trust you!”
“Then what the hell is the problem? You think I’m not gonna give a damn about your family issues? Is that it? Because I am literally begging you to tell me about them!”
“I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t want you, or anyone else on the firm, to think that I’m some pathetic little girl who uses her family issues as an excuse to get out of a tough fight.” You confessed in a lower tone, slightly embarrassed, just hoping he would understand and stop poking. “Things are very different when you’re a woman, you know…”
“I would never think that about you. Family is important. Especially if it’s made of people like Henry…” He said, reassuring you, even though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “Besides, you said you trust me, so you need to trust me when I say that I wouldn’t betray you by telling people about your problems. I’m not here as your boss, (y/n). I just wanna help you.” He sounded so sincere and, if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda really needed to vent.
“Okay, um, where to start? I have two sisters: Henry’s mother, Kat, and a fifteen-year-old, Lisa. I’m the older one of all three of us. Lisa’s sick, like very sick, so my parents, who are both retired, are with her at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, to try and get her better. In the meantime, Kat was supposed to go to college, as well as care for her son, between my parents and me, she wouldn’t even need to provide for them or anything. But, a while ago, she overdosed for the first time. That’s when we found out about her addiction. We’ve already tried a million different things but nothing works. So, my parents and I threatened to make her lose her parental rights over Henry, hoping that it’d be a wake-up call for her, but it backfired. She just took the boy and disappeared, then today I get that call, from the police department, saying that she was in custody for drug distribution and endangering the well-fare of a minor. They asked me to go pick my nephew and, maybe, get Kat a lawyer.” And, just like that, you’d told Harvey Specter, of all people, everything. Tears rolling down your cheeks and him pulling you into a hug.
If anyone had told you that that was how your night was gonna go, you would have definitely laughed them out of the room. But now, just sitting there, being held and caressed by Harvey, as you let your armor down, it was finally beginning to look like things were gonna be okay. 
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kuroos-moon · 4 years
Text
xvii. “Oikawa’s Worst Nightmare” • Two
Smau Masterlist
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Written Part
Wc: 2.2 k words
7:43 PM 
“I am so sorry love, wake up for me, yeah?” He puts on a sad smile, he wanted to hold your hand but he felt too undeserving to do so. How could he hold you when he caused this? “I’ll be better next time, I’ll be my best, I’ll do anything for you,” he promises, his eyes holding so much pain as they looked at you, he just felt so responsible for what happened to you.
Oikawa sat on a not so comfortable chair beside your bed, scanning the bandage on your head, the light purple bruise on your right cheekbone and the slight scratches on your arms. He could never forgive himself, not that he wanted for that to happen to you, but he really could’ve tried harder or did something better in order to prevent this right? 
“Y/n,” he mutters under his breath, his voice hoarse from the crying after the match ended. The entire match, he held it in, he held it all in- the pain, his worry, the suffocating guilt, it all made his hands shake and his mind a mess, he knew he sucked so bad during the game. He didn’t care that he looked so pathetic, he didn’t care who had seen his tear stained eyes and heard his sobs- he just bolted, leaving his bag, because he just had to see you. 
He was about to caress your cheek, his fingertips almost touching your skin when he hears someone scoff behind him. Turning around, he sees Kageyama with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face as his eyes sharply glare at Oikawa. 
“I’ll take it from here,” he says, “go home or whatever,” he adds, his tone icy as he approaches Oikawa and stands beside him, waiting for him to get up from the chair. “I’m not going anywhere, Tobio-chan,” he responds without looking away from you, his voice devoid of its usual liveliness. 
“I’ll stay with her,” Oikawa says more firmly when Kageyamas huffs at him. “You have no right to!” He slightly races his voice and immediately winces as he receives a kick on the shin from Oikawa. “I understand the resentment but shut the fuck up Tobio-chan, she’s resting,” he says with a fake sweet smile as he looks up at him. 
“You don’t deserve to be by her side,” he scoffs and Oikawa stands up from his chair to be on eye-level with him. “It’s not like you do either,” Oikawa bites back, his childishness getting the best of him. “If you wanna say something then let’s take this outside, you’ve been enough of a pain for her already,” Kageyama sneers and when Oikawa chuckles at him, he felt like he could punch your boyfriend right there on the spot. 
“If you wanna go outside, do so on your own Tobio-chan, I’ll stay here with y/n,” he says with a sigh, remembering where he was- in your hospital room- he had to be at his best and most mature behavior. He was supposedly done with arguing with the fuming boy but he was caught in surprise when he was yanked by his collar. 
“Drop the act, let me see you crumble Oikawa-san,” he says and Oikawa knew exactly what he was talking about. Tobio saw right through his pretending, there was no way in hell he was okay enough to exchange some petty comebacks with his junior because at any moment he was gonna have a breakdown from all his emotions. “You know you’re not good enough for her, no matter how serious you are with her right now, no matter how much you care, you’ve been really shitty in the past right? You really didn’t approach her with good intentions at first, y/n knew that and accepted you but look at where that got her, Oikawa-san,” he spitefully says in a low voice, “all because of you.” 
Oikawas eyes were slightly wide, Tobio was right, spot-on correct. He was tongue-tied, he knew he couldn’t argue back at that at all. “If you care about her like you say you do, then leave her alone, break up with her or whatever,” but that just drove Oikawa over the edge. Yes he was still unworthy of you, but he knew how much you loved each other and leaving you was totally not the answer. 
“I’ll marry y/n Tobio-chan, I already bought a ring so shut up about it,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance, he understood why Kageyama was mad at him, he was thankful you had such a friend, but to tell him to break up with you? “Face it Tobio, you’re just pathetically using this as an excuse to a drive a wedge between us but that would only make my princess unhappy, I couldn’t possibly do that now can I?” He knew just what to say to piss off the boy.
Blinded by anger, he was about to throw a punch right across Oikawa’s jaw but a firm tug at the back of his collar pulls him away from Toru. “I will throw your asses right out that window,” Iwaizumi glares at the both of them. “If you wanna kill each other then do it outside, I’ll watch over y/n,” he says and the two setters just stand there in silence. “Oh, and Tobio, Hinata’s outside.” 
They both look at Iwaizumi as he approaches you, placing a gentle hand on the top of your head as he shows a soft smile. “I’m sorry you have to be with these idiots,” he mutters and Oikawa could be heard scoffing childishly at the background. They all still when you slowly squint your eyes a few times before they open. 
Oikawa just stares at you with wide eyes, feeling his chest lighten at the sight of you finally waking up. “Iwa,” you say with a smile and you may or may not have seen Iwaizumi’s eyes get glossy as he says, “y/n ever so dramatic, what took you so long to wake up.” And you just chuckle at him. 
You try to push yourself up and instantly grip your head as a short but painful throbbing appears at the area you fell on. Kageyama was quick to move to your side and Iwa respectfully gives space for your best friend. “Tobio!” You say with so much enthusiasm that he just felt so happy. 
“Y/n are you okay? Does it hurt? Should I-” but you cut him off as you wrap your arms around his neck, ignoring the pain at your sides. “Don’t get so worried now, bakaa!” You grin at him as you pull away. You cup his cheeks in your hands and scan his eyes, and as you do so, you feel how hot his skin was against yours. 
“Hey you’re burning up,” you scold as you put your hand on his forehead and he just pulls your hands away and holds them in his. “You feeling okay? Does it hurt anywhere?” He asks and you just shake your head and suddenly remember the events of a while ago- more importantly your beloved Toru’s match. 
“Tobio what time is it? Oh crap the match! Wait Iwa’s here! Where’s Toru?” You panic and immediately go quiet when your eyes land on him. He was standing a few feet behind Iwa, he didn’t know how to react. He may also have felt so small when he saw how happy you were to see Tobio, you both looked too close and familiar with each other that he actually wonders for a second how you managed to choose him. 
“Toru,” you pout as your bottom lip quivers and the three of them immediately panic as you were about to cry. Iwaizumi clears his throat before resting a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder, lightly pushing him outside with him. He wanted to oppose but he’d rather not be here either because he didn’t want to see the both of you together anyway. 
So now you were both alone and he still does not take a step towards you, he didn’t understand himself either. Was it the guilt? Or was it the indescribable feeling he felt as he saw how at home you looked with Kageyama? All thoughts were diminished when he sees you bury you face in your hands.
“Y/n, baby, what’s wrong?” He asks as he swiftly makes it to your side, sitting beside you on the bed. His tenses when you hug his waist, burying your face against his chest; he was surprised, but he soon recovers and hugs you back carefully after that. You both held each other, and he patiently waited for you to finish crying as he strokes your hair. 
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your match,” you sniffle, pulling away from him and he was left speechless. You were crying about that?! “Y/n what- that’s okay, it doesn’t matter, I was so worried about you,” he tells you and you could hear the pain in his voice. Observing him closely, you notice his puffy eyes and you could tell he had been crying. 
“Y/n please forgive me for Jen, if I wasn’t- well if I hadn’t gotten into anything with her, or if I hadn’t been involved with you-” and you cut him off with a kiss. “If you hadn’t, then neither of us would be this happy,” you say in a stern voice. “Don’t you dare blame yourself Toru, you’ll only make me sad,” you tell him and he bites his tongue to keep himself from saying any more about how sorry he was. 
“Come here,” you sigh as you take in the sight of him, opening up your arms; he was clearly fatigued, and his puffy eyes made your heart ache. He doesn’t refuse your hug at all and practically throws himself at you, hiding his face at the crook of your neck as he allowed himself to be vulnerable, whispering a lot of apologies and promises on how he’d never allow anything to hurt you in any way ever again. 
You feel his shoulders lightly shake as he tried to silence his sobs, though you felt his tears anyway, “you’ve had a rough day,” you sigh as you rub his back soothingly, he had just told you about the match they lost too. He pulls away, a pout on his lips as he looks at your face. “Y/n, I love you, I love you so much, and you- you love me too much and I just wanna thank you, uhm, because you stayed and you make me wanna love everything about life,” he rambles on and you simply hug him again.
“I love you so much, my precious Toru” you whisper the last part as you snuggle against him, oblivious to the fact that hearing you say that made his heart clench with so much love and adoration for you.  
A few minutes later, Iwaizumi and Kageyama head back inside and stop in their tracks the moment they see the both of you. He was still sitting beside you, you had your cheek against his chest, your arms around his waist, and he just held you securely so you wouldn’t fall. “Uh, she fell asleep,” he sheepishly says at the two who had just entered. 
Iwaizumi chuckles at the sight. “You’ll stay the night?” He asks his friend. “Of course, and the doctor told me she could be discharged by tomorrow evening if all goes well,” he smiles as he looks down at you, all cozied up in his arms. 
“Hey Iwa, could you maybe watch her for a bit? I’m starving,” he asks, and Iwa notices how Toru had now let go of whatever guilt and sadness he has been feeling a while ago. He was quite amazed actually, Oikawa had a thick skull, it was hard to pull him away from his thoughts, but with you he believes and does anything. 
“Sure,” Iwa replies and Oikawa carefully tries to tear you off him but you slightly whine, opening your drowsy eyes to look at him. “You’re leaving?” You ask and he chuckles at you. “Of course not princess, I’ll just-” 
“Okay so let’s sleep,” you grumble, tugging at his waist so that he lies down with you. He positions your head on top of his arm and felt so content when you wrap an arm around his torso with your face snuggled into him. “We’ll just eat breakfast together,” he tells Iwaizumi before turning his back so that he was now facing you. 
Without saying another word, Kageyama walks off, he didn’t know if it was even possible but the sight of the two of you that way actually made him feel even sicker. 
“Toru I’ll die if you leave me,” you whisper, barely awake and he just hums in response, trying his best not to fall asleep himself because he wanted to listen to whatever you’d be saying while you were asleep. 
“I’ll wear your jersey some other time.” He chuckles softly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He found it so adorable how you’ve been looking forward to wearing his jersey and cheering for him as much as he did. 
“Toru, don’t ever leave,” you say again and when he doesn’t answer, “you’ll never leave my side, right?” You ask and he pauses for a while. 
“I’ll be right by your side at all times y/n,” he assures, kissing your lips for a brief moment. “Now go to sleep and rest up, my love.” 
It had been quite a while since you’ve fallen deeply asleep and he just looks at you, caressing your cheeks lightly with his fingers. “I’ll stay, y/n,” he sighs. “I’ll let go of Brazil for you,” he mutters to himself as he looks away from you and up at the ceiling in thought. 
“Who am I kidding, I’d stay here even if you’d ask me to leave,” he chuckles at his silly self, so deeply in love. He was so sure of you that he had indeed already bought a ring.
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sweetchup · 3 years
Text
💌Acting Naive (?)💌
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Type: Shalnark x reader
Prompt: 14—Love potion + 7—Innocent/Corruption Kink
Author Note: Ah! @pastelbear12 I hope you like your request! I made sure it was really good for you! Especially as a fellow writer and Shalnark stan! Enjoy💕💕💕!!
(Valentine’s Day Masterlist)
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Blue, Pink, Purple, Green, Blue…
…Round, cylinder, was that a square?
You just couldn’t fathom all the potions this clan of witches had hidden in their basement. Hell, You bet your boss, Chrollo, didn’t even realize there was this much when he sent you guys out to steal them.
“Hey (y/n). How many do you exactly think there are?” Phinks questions, gobsmacked at the amount just as much as you are.  
“I don’t know…” You mumble out, looking around the room, “Honestly, Phinks… I’m not even sure how we are going to transport them out of here…”
“Wel—“ “Oh wow! That’s a lot more than expected.”
You flinch as a familiar happy go lucky voice is heard by the doorway. You thought the boss put him on another mission.
“Oh hey Shal!” Phinks shouts out, just as surprised as you were, “What are you doing here?”
“The boss wanted me to come join you guys since I finished gathering information for him early.” Shalnark explains, walking up to you two. However, even as Shalnark begins to chat with Phinks, you could still feel his eyes flicker to your figure ever so often.
It wasn’t that you hated Shalnark, you just… particularly didn’t like him. Mostly due to the fact, he didn’t give you the best impression when you showed up as a replacement number 4.
According to him, he didn’t understand why you should be the replacement member. You were “cute” and “naive”, not the best fit to replace the former number 4. He also thought your ability wouldn’t work well with the members you were designated to work with.
Honestly, You could have understood where he was coming from, all Shalnark wanted was to make sure the Troupe succeeded. But, you also believed he didn’t have to say all this in front of the whole group with you in the room. It embarrassed you so much, you nearly stormed out of there.
Naturally, of course, this event created a rift between you two. A general dislikeness to the other person.
“(Y/n),” Phinks suddenly calls out, catching your attention, “What did you think of the plan?”
“What plan?” You questioned. Slightly scowling as you see Shalnark’s lip slightly twitch up a little as Phink responds with a sigh. Cheeky Bastard…
“The plan is that I’m going to go grab Fei’s group to come help us. But, In the meantime, You and Shalnark can start taking count of the potions.” Phinks explains, already putting on his pharaoh helmet to get ready to leave.
“Wait. Wouldn’t it make more sense to grab Machi’s group? Feitan’s group is a traveling distance of 3 days away while Machi’s is only 1 day away.” You question out, thinking it was a logical conclusion. However, you were only met with Shalnark letting out a small chuckle. Almost as if what you said was a hilarious joke to him, “What’s so funny?”
“Well, I find it so funny that you are practically rushing to try to get the mission over with. What’s with that? Do you have some sort of date you have to get to for Valentine’s Day?” You slightly flinch as Shalnark happy expression turns much darker; mockingly in a way, “That’s pretty irresponsible of you. You do realize troupe activities come first? Oh wait… You likely don’t care because—“
“Shal,” Phinks barks out, stopping his friend from finishing his sentence. As Phinks comes closer to stand in front of you, you now notice Shalnark has gotten much closer to you than before, “Fighting or attacking troupe members isn’t allowed. You should know this.”
“What are you talking about? I wasn’t going to,” Shalnark responds with a lighthearted pout. However, you see a ever so slight twitch in his fingers that contradicts his previous statement. It seemed that he was practically just itching at the chance to stab you with his antenna.
Woah, that’s new….
Shalnark has never before given a hint that he hated you that much. Sure, he messed with your missions or denied helping you sometimes but even that was never enough that could possibly hurt or kill you.
However, that seemed to be the least of your worries right now. With Phinks being here, you could at least avoid Shalnark insults or possible attempts to attack you, especially since Phinks can step in to interfere as an older member as well. But if Phinks is still set with trying to leave to go grab Feitan’s group then… you are in big trouble.
“Hey Phinks. How about I just go grab Feitan’s group?” You ask cautiously as you interrupt their conversation (Well, more like bickering). About to explain your reasoning when Phinks cuts you off.
“No, neither of you two are going anywhere. This little feud between you two has escalated way too much. We are going to solve this problem right here and now.” Phinks grumbles out, sending a slight glare Shalnark's way to tell him not to even try to rebut. “Also Meaning, you two are going to allow each other to talk in order to solve this.”
After Phinks stops speaking, a thick silence settles over the room. Neither of you attempted to start to talk to the either and it seemed, from your perspective, that Shalnark wasn’t happy about being forced to participate in this bonding event at all. Well technically you shouldn’t judge as you weren’t happy about this either but, at the very least, you were willing to participate if it solved this petty problem of you two.
“Well…,” You started, breaking the thick silence, “I first wanna know what I did to get you to dislike me so much.”
You watch as Shalnark rolls his eyes in slight annoyance. He wasn’t planning on answering you but a hard swift slap to the back by Phinks makes him think twice about that decision.
“It’s that fake act you do.” Shalnark grumbles out, winching slightly as Phinks puts his hand up again, “I-I mean I don’t like how you act towards us.”
“Pardon?” You let out, accidently. Quite confused at what he was referring to. You’ve never acted a certain way specifically towards Shalnark or any of the members in that matter.
“Don’t act stupid—“ “Shal…” Phinks warns out, cutting Shalnark off. However instead of backing off like before, Shalnark continues.
“You know it. The one where you act all ‘I’m miss innocent and cute, I don’t know things~’. That stupid ass one.”
However instead of understanding what he was saying, you get even more confused. You will admit you can be a little naive at times but you’ve never acted or played into it.
“I still don’t get it. I don’t specifically act—“
“There it is! That.” Shalnark shouts out suddenly as he points his finger accusingly at you, taking a step forward also. “You just titled your head to the side slightly as if you were some confused puppy!”
You can’t help but feel heat suddenly bloom up to your face. You hadn’t even realized you did that sort of thing. God, you must have looked like a fool, an idiot—
“And there’s another one! You just tried to hide your face behind your hands.” Shalnark exclaims again, pulling your hands down and away from your face.
“H-hey. I-I don’t get why all this matt— Oof.”
Suddenly, as you take a step back to keep some space between you and Shalnark, You don’t realize how close you are to the shelves and hit your back hard against one. It creaks for a second and you think nothing of the sound. Well, nothing of it until something hard shatters on top of your head, dosing you in some sort of strange sticky liquid.
“Shit.” Phinks curse out, both his and Shalnark’s eyes blown out wide as they look at you. “(Y/n) are you okay?”
“Y-yeah. Just my head hurts a little…” You mumble out, pulling your hand away from your head to see it was covered in a little bit of blood. Uh oh…, that wasn’t good. That could only mean the potion got absorb into your bloodstream…
“Welp…, it seems like she’s going to die.” Shalnark says matter of factly, making you snap your head up to look at him. However, instead of yelling at him, your words suddenly felt stuck and clogged up in your throat. Ever so slowly as if a fog came over you, your mind starts to grow fuzzy, unable to make you think clearly. What was going on? Was the potion only now taking effect?
However, unaware of your current predicament, Phinks had started bickering with Shalnark. Angry at not only his bitterness towards you but also his unwillingness to help you out just as a fellow teammate.
“Shal, Dude. Her thing isn’t an act. The boss has been over this. She acts this way even towards Kortopi, who, I’m sure you can understand, wouldn’t benefit her in any way.”
“Well, she might be still trying to get on his good side so she—“
Phinks cuts Shalnark off by grabbing him by the collar. Pulling his friend so they were face to face, Phinks speaks again. This time in an extremely serious tone that tells Shalnark there isn’t going to be any more of these ‘if’s’ or ‘buts’ from out of him.
“Shal. Just stop. If she had the choice to attack or use one of us, she would have done it by now. Chrollo has allowed her to guard him alone more times than I can count, just to see if your suspicions were correct. And, in all those times, she didn’t show the slightest bit of desire to get information out of him or attempt to try to fight him. So, Cut. It. Out. This is not only hindering our mission no— Shit.“
Phinks suddenly let go of Shalnark to grab you, who from the corner of his vision was wobbling slightly.
“(Y/n). Sit down.” Phinks mumbles out as he helps you to the ground. As he crouches down to look at you, he can’t help but grow even more worried. You didn’t look good, at all.
So bad, he knew they needed to race to go find Shizuku right at that very moment. And it didn’t reassure him any better that he was the fastest one out of you three at the moment.
“Shal.” Phinks calls out, making Shalnark snap his head to him, “We need to go grab Shizuku from Machi’s group now and since I’m the fastest I need to go. Don’t give (y/n) a hard time and you better try to help.”
Without attempting to hear Shalnark’s response or possible rebuttal, Phinks has already raced out the door. Leaving Shalnark alone to try and take care of you. Something he honestly has never imagined doing.
“S-Shal…” You suddenly stutter out, breaking the man’s attention from staring at the door. Shit, you seriously didn’t look good.
“Yeah?” He questions, still apprehensive to try and help you as he crouched down. Shalnark can’t help but feel a shiver go up his spine as you looked up at him. A hand hiding the front of your mouth told him you were embarrassed. A thing he’s seen you do many times before when you weren’t sick.
Perhaps,... Phinks was correct and the cute things you do aren’t actually an act. You would have definitely dropped it by now with the horrible condition you were in.
“C-can…Can you kiss me?” You suddenly beg out, nearly making Shalnark have to do a double take.
“What…?” Shalnark lets out, unable to stop his surprise at what you were saying—suggesting—for him to do. Have you gone fucking insane?
“P-please.” You mumble out, your words slightly slurred and incoherent as you move yourself, “I’ll do anything.”
Shalnark goes to speak again to quickly deny your request but suddenly feels himself choke on his own words. Slowly, He had to put a hand up to his mouth to check his jaw hadn’t dropped and he hadn’t started drooling. Especially with the position you had moved to because, Holy shit…
With your arms stretched out forward, hands slightly opening and closing to urge him to come near, it looked like you were innocently begging him for a hug. Well, it would have been considered innocent if your legs weren’t opened up as well. With you wearing just a skirt, it gave him a clear view of your underwear that was already dripping in your arousal.
Oh, all the things he was imagining to do to you right now…
“S-see. I’ll do anything you want. I just need you close to me-e.” You beg out, seeing how Shalnark’s gaze was trained on your lower half. Your pleas clearly worked on Shalnark as he can feel himself starting to harden more in his pants. “I-I love you. I need you. Please—“
You can’t help but let out a little gasp as you are suddenly tugged forward by your ankles. The cold feeling of the cement basement ground leaks through your sweaty skin and clothes as you fall backwards, making you also unconsciously arch your back closer to Shalnark.
However, your attention towards the uncomfortable cold stinging the ground produced is short-lived as you feel one of Shalnark’s hands push your underwear away. You let out a small whine as Shalnark rubs your clit, the intense pleasure shooting like fireworks throughout your whole body. It was so much for you, almost painful in a way, making you quickly wiggle away from his touch.
“What’s wrong?” Shalnark mumbles out, his words hardly heard as he presses small wet kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. Trying to hold himself back from completely and utterly wrecking you once he sees how you were helplessly trying to escape from him. Why did he hate your cuteness again?
“I-I’ve never been touched there,” You answer back, making Shalnark’s hand freeze in his ministrations, “Too much-h.”
“Have you ever been touched…?” Shalnark finally asks out after a long pause.
“N-no. Never.” You whine out, gasping as Shalnark snaps your soaked panties back into place. Using the back of his knuckles to rub the fabric against your sensitive folds, only to drag them down and off your ankles seconds later. You are confused as to why he doesn’t choose to throw them to the side until you hear a zipper being undone, “Shal…”
You can’t help but cross and rub your thighs together as you look down to the thing that was between his legs. It sounded childish but you couldn’t help but wonder how that was even supposed to fit inside you.
“(Y/n)... Come here...” Your attention snaps away from your thighs to Shalnark at his sudden call. Oh, so that's what he was using them for…
You gulp as you slowly crawl over to Shalnark, your eyes trained on his hand that was smothering the wetness of your panties onto his dick. As you sat in front of him, you can’t help but shakily reach one of your hands out. As your hand touches the warm flesh, you feel it twitch under your touch. You hesitate for a second before enveloping your hand around it. Unconsciously gulping as you realized you were unable to wrap your hand fully around the shaft due to how thick it was.
“G-good.” Shalnark moans out, his body slightly shaking as he attempts to keep his cool as you add your second hand. Fuck, Your hands were unimaginably soft, driving him insane as they worked their way around his length. And the pure fact you clearly had no idea what you were doing and was clumsy trying to give him pleasure, for some odd reason, turned him on even more.
Damn, you were so cute and innocent. Naive to the point you didn’t understand what he could possibly do to you at a moment's notice. How much he could easily just slip inside of you and turn you into his whiny little thing. Slobbering and drugged up on the pleasure he would continuously induce upon you. Making you beg for his every touch and word until your throat hurts. Begging for him to pump his load in you, to be his pretty little obedient toy.
“Fuck.” Shalnark murmurs out, catching you off guard as he pulls your hand off his length by your wrist. You let out a small whine in rebuttal, wanting to touch him more, until you see that ever so slight lustful haze over his eyes.
Happily you allowed the blonde man to move you around so you were positioned on your hands and knees; your back arched and butt stuck up in the air just for him to see. Honestly if he wasn’t craving to be inside you right now, he would have definitely taken a picture. The sight would have made a perfect new background for his home screen.
As he lines himself up at your entrance, he hears your breath suddenly hitch. Testing to see how you do, he slowly slips only the head of his length in. Woah. Instantly a shiver goes up his spine as he feels your walls squeeze and unsqueeze around his tip, your body struggling to accommodate the sudden intrusion.
He really wanted to go slow. After all, he truly felt bad for how he had been treating you before all this. But once you tilted your head to the side to look up at him with those doe-like eyes of yours, it was as if all his patience had suddenly snapped.
“Shal!” You yell out, your hands balled into fist as you had nothing to hold onto, to possibly ground yourself.
“It will feel g-good. I promise.” Shalnark mumbles out incoherently. Lost in pleasure as he continues to piston in and out of you. His top half eventually draping over yours as he attempts to get even deeper inside you; pressing small encouraging kisses to the back of your shoulder blades as you continued to take every inch of him.
Eventually, Shalnark was right. It was as if things suddenly clicked and everything felt just oh so good. You thought you were in heaven with the amount of pleasure you felt rushing through your body. Even though the man inducing these feelings upon you could hardly be considered a heavenly being. Then again, with what you have done, you weren't much better than him.
“Ah! R-Right there. Please, Please, please!” You cry out, feeling an even intenser flash of pleasure come upon you as he hits a specific spot. “S-Shal!”
It only took a couple more hits to that pleasurable spot to push you over the edge. Turning you into a dazed and drooling mess as you couldn’t stop yourself from whining out how good Shalnark made you feel and how you loved him ever so much.
“S-shit.” Shalnark groans out, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he suddenly feels a hot flash of pleasure come over him as well. His hips methodically grinding against your hole as he works his way through his high. Slightly overstimulating you in a way as his ever so warm white ropes of his cum start to fill you up. You never thought you would enjoy such a primal feeling of being filled up by someone’s cum. Honestly, you could have cummed again from just that alone.
As you feel Shalnark lean his forehead against your back to catch his breath, you slowly feel your mind becoming clearer. As if a strange fog has been lifted off of your senses. However, you honestly wished it stayed as everything that has happened while under that strange potion has suddenly come crashing down on you.
You didn’t know what to do, what to think. Actually, would anyone know what to do if they suddenly realized they had sex on Valentine’s Day with a teammate that hated their guts and couldn’t even stand being in the same room before now?
Then again you should have known that, even in a situation like this, Shalnark doesn’t exactly fall into the category of the average person.
“H-hey!” You choke out in surprise as you feel Shalnark suddenly lift one of your legs over his shoulder, forcing you to lay on your side as he starts to move his hips again. His dick already hardening back up to where it was before.
You wanted to rebut. Wanted to tell him to calm down and to talk this whole strange situation out. But, then again, why would you?
With him already plowing into you deeper than before, mixing and pushing his cum deeper inside you and creating this dangerous cocktail of pleasure. How could you possibly tell him to stop when you wanted to continue?
Especially when he had just referred to you as his good little girl.
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bby-d1p · 3 years
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420🍃🕳️
G“So who’s going to go get it?“ Lamelo asked for the literal eight time since we’ve gotten in the car. It was me,Melo and don. “LaMelo if you ask that dumbass question one more time imma put you out my car“ Don yelled gripping the steering wheel.”My bad damn” Melo laid in my lap and started to play with my fingers; specifically my index finger that had Loyalty on it. As a birthday gift for my 18th he wanted us to get matching tatts.”Don is getting the weed ok stop smoking you’re already slow enough“ I whispered in his ear. We hot boxed earlier but melo dropped the blunt in a pile of mud since it had rained. (a/n we woulda had to box ong)
We pulled up to don’s plug I’m guessing; the house wasn’t to shabby, we were on the east side NOLA so its not all glammed up like the west side.The bright green roof and windows didn’t compliment the sore orange and tan panel on the outside. It’s a two maybe three story house. A brolic walked out the house.He had on a black wife beater(a/n we hit women jkjkjk), grey sweats and some ugly ass green shell toe Adidas. Don pulled at least 50 dollars out of his bag. He closed the door of his black and grey Cullinan almost busting his ass on the wet ground causing melo and I to screech. I felt a cold hand trickle up my thigh.”You he gon be gone for like 15 minutes” Melo whispered in my ear. “Um no he’s not“ I smiled as don got back in the car. “dammit“ melo mumbled.Nigga feenin for some cat.
-------------------------------------------------------
 Don started to hand melo the bag. “Mel- nevermind April you rolling ion got time for my shit getting dropped again“ Don handed me the iridescent bag with two big cookies and what looked like enough to foll 4 fat blunts.They cut their eyes at each other. ”How much did this cost“ I said with an astonished look on my face. “Like 45$“ he shrugged so did I not bad. These cookies are big as hell. I began to grind the substance through my fingers into the pineapple Game wrap.I felt a flash go off from beside me and then got a snap notification. Melo captioned the video; Her focused face😭😍. 
“I don’t make a face when I’m focused” I rolled my eyes as I sparked my blunt  close to my lips. “Um not I get to hit it first“ Don attempted to take the blunt from me. “I rolled every one their own. It’s enough to roll at least three more blunts“ I handed don and melo their blunts. “AP shotgun me” Melo called my by the nickname he gave me sparking his blunt as wel. 
Apparently he thinks calling me a piece jewelry of  is cute.He took a puff blowing out the cloud of white smoke. “Okay“ I smiled scooting closer to him. “Yea no if yall gon be on this shit I’m finna call Aiesha. Yall be TOO horny when you get high “By the time he finished his sentence I was already in Melo’s lap puffing out smoke as he rubbed my thigh with his free hand. I jerked my head back and Melo made a face. “Everyone most likely wants to fuck me. So I assume everyone wants to fuck me even more because who doesn’t like to fuck after we’ve smoke three blunts?” LaMelo and I said simultaneously and laughed. 
“You ready“ Lamelo licked his lips damn he’s so fine when he’s high.”Yea“ I took a puff before blowing the white smoke in his mouth. Just to be a dick he blew the smoke through his nose. I wanna know how to do that but he won’t teach me. “Why“ I made a pouty face. “Because I’m cooler than you“ He chuckled hitting his head on the head rest.”hey y'all” Aisha greeted up through slurs she is high as fuck.We all spoke”im cooler in the bedroom though.” I whispered in his ear running my fingers down his waves and grinding on his lap just to be a tease.I felt him grow and smirked.Don already smoke half his blunt “Don how yo shit half gone already?” I laughed hysterically shit is so much funnier when you’re high.
“BROOO I WANT SOME NAGOMI” I yelled getting off his lap making him cut his eyes at me.”Omg yess bitch yesssss” Aiesha did a little twerk in her seat causing me to slap her ass.”Melo put on yo seatbelt” I tapped his shoulder.”I don’t want to”Lamelo shrugged. “Don’t be feeling on my girl nigga” Don bucked at me starting the car, and just to be petty, of course i blew her a kiss. She pretended to catch an put it on her lips making Don break check us. “GOT DAMN NIGGA” Melo yelled rubbing his forehead because he hit it on the back of Aiesha’s seat.”I said put on your seatbelt” I nicked his neck.
After getting our foo he headed to 
“Stop fucking touching my CRawfISh“ Melo’s voice crack as I took another piece of crawfish from his plate snickering hysterically. “yo who ate my cookies?“ Don said with annoyance in his voice.Aisha,Melo and I looked at each other for like two seconds and busted out laughing. “yall not smoking with me no more“ he kissed Aisha’s lips. “If I wanted to I could take you bitch.” I spoke honestly while LaMelo screech hysterically.”Ahh my nigga she just PLAYED THE FUCK OUTTA YOU“ Aisha began laughing at lamelo.”lets not forget who dropped our blunt bitch“ he shot back at melo making him stop laughing. “Yea bitch shut up“ I picked with Lamelo. He got a tight grip on my neck. “You better stop talking out of turn before you’re not able to talk at all.” He growled. “okay“ I said trying to front but I am DRIPPING okay.”I’ma bout to go to the bathroom that crawfish ran through me” Lamelo disgustedly announced. 
” now that melo left; man I’ll bet you five hundred you can’t even make my girl wet” Don flicked his blunt in an ashtray. “You for real?“ Aisha and I asked at the same time. “On my soul“ He patted his chest, “Bet“ was all I said before Aisha climbed on my lap after I motion her over. Because I always win bets I started to kiss down her neck making her grind her his on my lap. “I don’t have a dick what are you grinding for?“ We busted out laughing. “My stomach hurt!“ Don wheezed. “Getting a factime call for Don Julio“ siri spoke. “Why are you facetiming me were in the same house“ I rolled my eyes.
 “Back to what you were doing I want my five hundred“ Don commanded. “Or yo just wanna watch free porn buut since I’m getting five hundred why not.“ I smirked deviously as I grabbed Aisha’s neck putting my tongue in her mouth. “MMM“ She groaned into the kiss as I felt on her ass.I started to slide my hands in the back of her pants. “If we go that far imma steal you from melo. now if you’ll excuse me; I have to go change my underwear.” She ran off  my lap and upstairs. “Bro here“ Don plopped a stack of money on the table with an attitude. “thank you“ I said as Aisha came back downstairs.“ Yo the moon landing is fake and I know you was getting ya freak on with Aisha and I ain’t mad about it” Lamelo yelled coming back from the bathroom giving me props and sounding dumb as fuck. “How?“ Don grew intrigued. “There was wind messing with the flag in the video but there are no trees or anything in space to create wind so what the fuck?“ he rubbed his waves, sitting back.”Oh shit I don’t know“ I scratched my head. 
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dramaqueeenamby · 3 years
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Waves: The Read
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A/N: I am a shady bitch, and I regret nothing.  Also, if ya’ll remember, Mercedes is Summer’s publicist/manager. I mentioned that in a few waves, so don’t get confused, friends!
Warnings: None. 
Word Count: 2K
Masterlist
TAGS: @notacamelthatsmywife​ @babe-im-bi​ @liquorlaughslove​ @letsshamelessqueen-m​ @missyperle​ @valkryienymph​ @tashawar​ @mani-lifes​ @missdforever​ @hello-therree​ @toni9​ @queenshikongo3​
"How many solos has my sister had?"
The room grew quiet, all eyes on the speaker. They’d just finished a number, or rather, Finn and Rachel had just finished a number. The rest of the students served more as props than singers. Ad-libs only constituted so much.
Mr. Schue’s smile dimmed. Slightly. "W—what?"
Alexus shrugged, motioning around the room. "Or any of the kids whose names aren’t Flipper or Rachel?"
"It’s Finn."
"I don’t care," she dismissed, eyes still on the instructor. "I’ve been here a whole week, and not once have I seen someone other than Cher and Sonny score solos."
Mr. Schue scoffed, crossing his arms. "Now, hold on a second, I treat all my students fairly. Any student is allowed to audition for a solo—"
"And how many who have auditioned actually received one, other than your prized pupils?"
Mercedes stood up. "Alexus—"
"No." Alexus lifted her hand and looked over at her sister. "This isn’t right, and you’re too kind and understanding to say anything, so I will."
"You’re out of line, Alexus."
She laughed, looking back at him. "Out of line? I’m not one of your little students, and you’re not going to shut me down like you do them. I’m going to say what I want and need to say, and then I’ll leave, but you’re going to catch this read, first."
"And, cut!"
Summer broke from character and offered Matthew a fake smile before turning away and catching Amber’s gaze. They shared an unspoken exchange, one that caused Amber to laugh after Summer rolled her eyes.
Summer didn’t know why she was so weary about accepting this role. Only 10% of it was acting, the rest was her actually reading the problematic cast members, which was all but a handful. But, to fulfill her petty side and get paid?
It was a double win.
Summer noticed Ryan was speaking with Lea, which ignited another eye roll. She was the guest star, not that Barbara Streisand wannabe. Still, Summer counted her blessings, because she could only take Ryan in small doses. He wasn’t as bad as his prized actress, but it was the fact that he allowed her to treat everyone like shit that made her think less of him.
Perhaps she was spoiled in the sense that every other director she’d had the privilege of working for would never tolerate such behavior. She had to accept that Hollywood was a game, and the rules changed constantly.
"Someone was having fun," Mercedes, Summer’s assistant chimed, coming to walk beside her.
Summer feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
Mercedes smirked. "Yeah, right. You weren’t acting. You were giving them all a piece of your mind."
Summer retained her smile as they reached her trailer, Summer opening the door so Mercedes could enter first. "Are you trying to insinuate that I was using my job to tell these people how I really feel?"
"I surely was."
As soon as the door closed, Summer confessed. "You know me so well."
The two laughed. "Girl, you know Lea is probably complaining to Ryan right now."
Summer sucked her teeth. "You know she is." Walking over to the kitchenette area, she turned on the Keruig and opened the drawer to select a pod. Her hand ghosted between the caramel and the dark magic, before she settled for caramel. "That black bitch—"
Mercedes snickered. "You sound just like her."
Summer frowned as she insert the pod and selected 8oz. "God, you’re right. I have to have to get out of here."
Smiling, Mercedes swiped down to refresh her emails. "Hey, look at it this way, you keep up this level of performance, and you’re a shoe-in for that Primetime Emmy.
The idea of adding another award to her resume was more than enough to keep Summer focused and dedicated. As a dark skinned black woman, she had to work ten times harder just to remain 20 steps behind. Anything she could do to push herself, she cherished.
Summer added creamer and sugar to her coffee, blowing before taking a sip. "After this, I need a quick break."
Mercedes hummed. "Umm, about that—"
"No."
"Summer—"
"No, Cedes, I’ve been working back to back since I scored 4AM, I think I’ve earned a little vacation time."
"I don’t disagree." Mercedes raised her hands in surrender.
"Thank you," Summer nodded, taking another sip of her coffee.
"But—"
"Here you go."
"I’m just saying, I’m hearing rumors about a potential role that’s gonna start casting in a couple of months."
Summer rolled her eyes and brought the mug to her mouth. "And?"
"And." Mercedes also rolled her eyes. "It’d be perfect for you."
"Mmmhmm."
"Summer," Mercedes lowered her voice. "It’s Storm."
Summer narrowed her eyes. "Storm?" Mercedes nodded. "You don’t mean—"
"X-Men Storm? I surely do."
Summer gasped and covered her mouth. "Bitch!"
"I know!" Mercedes giggled, shushing her client. "So do you see why I want you to keep your options open?"
Summer downed the remainder of her coffee and washed her mug in the sink all the while still stuck on the information she’d been told. "Do you really think I could be Storm?"
"Summer, please, you won an Oscar for your first Hollywood role. You’re a shoe-in."
"What about Shipp?"
"Shipp can skip her ass off somewhere."
The two women laughed when a knock on the trailer door prompted Summer to walk over, opening and smiling when she saw Amber. "Hey girl, come on in."
"I wish." Amber rolled her eyes. "Lea’s ready to start filming again. I mean, Ryan is ready to start filming again."
"You’ve got to be kidding me." Summer checked the watch on her wrist. "It hasn’t even been twenty minutes."
Amber sighed. "You know the saying. She says jump. We say—"
"Trip, bitch."
Amber laughed, as Summer looked back at Mercedes, pointing a finger. "This conversation isn’t over."
Mercedes winked at Summer, the two actresses sauntering back onto set.
Summer wondered if Lea had been listening outside her trailer, because it seemed as if Ms. Michele was purposely antagonizing Summer. Any scenes they had together, Lea would abruptly call cut and give Summer "pointers," all the while Ryan sat in his chair and said nothing.
Summer, forever the professional, managed to keep her composure, but there was only so much she could take.
Finally, when it came time for Summer to film her final scene, she saw an opportunity.
"Alright, and action!"
"I just want you to know that despite your distasteful behavior toward me, I hold no animosity and hope that one day you can release your unwarranted rage, and we can be cordial once I’m on Broadway."
Alexus turned to Rachel and tilted her head, crossing her arms. "I don’t like you. Never have, never will."
Rachel’s smile faltered. "Well, I-I’m sorry you feel that way, but--."
"Let me explain something to you, Berry. This is Lima, Ohio. The biggest thing we have going for us here is Breadstix, a restaurant chain that’s been on it’s last leg since that lawsuit filed by the kid who got two breadsticks stuck up her nostrils."
"I’m much better now."
Alexus ignored Britany and continued. "So, I’ll give you this, this small town notoriety and fame, because I know and you know, that once you actually make it out into the real world, reality is going to slap you so hard, you won’t need to have a nose job."
"Alexus—"
"Your stardom is limited to this pathetic town and its almost entirely pathetic population. And don’t get me wrong, you’re very good at manipulating and controlling individuals, because you can. For now. But, let’s be real, your voice isn’t anything I haven’t heard coming from street singers in NYC. Face it, you don’t have the talent nor the looks to make it into this big star you think you’re going to be. NYADA?" Alexus laughed. "Maybe you’ll make it, I doubt it, and even if you do, once you realize how utterly mediocre your narcissistic ass truly is compared to real talent, you’ll come crying back to Lima and spend the rest of your life working nights at Breadstix while watching reruns of Funny Girl on a goodwill VHS player." A beat. "Now, how’s that for raining on your parade?"
"And, cut!"
——
PRESENT TIME
"Christopher, stop!" Summer laughed as Chris came from behind and lifted her up against his solid frame. "I’m trying to do my makeup."
"You don’t need it," he murmured into her neck. "It’s going to end up all over the pillows anyw—"
"Sir!"
"Autumn."
"Would you please leave me alone?" Summer managed to wiggle herself free from her husband, flipping him off when he slapped her ass. "I am a human being."
"Allegedly."
"Alleged—lemme stop before I end up going to jail." She leaned over and examined her skin, feeling for the tackiness to see if her primer had settled. "This is why I can never do my makeup right. If it’s not him, it’s the twins."
We wanna see the babies!
I don’t get it. Why is she always so mean to him???
^^^^You must be new around here…
What makeup do you use?
Summer caught the last comment and grabbed her foundation and concealer, flashing them on the camera. "You know I have to support my girl, Ri. It’s Fenty Beauty all day everyday over here, ya’ll."
More comments came rolling in, Summer partially paying attention while she tried to do her makeup. Chris was taking her out on a date, the first they’d been on since the birth of the twins.
Summer was actually excited. She was in much need of alone time with her husband.
She grabbed the Snap shadow and blending brush when she noticed majority of the comments kept mentioning Lea Michele.
She didn’t even attempt to hide her distaste. "Why are ya’ll asking me about that girl? Did something happen?" Different stories were coming in prompting Summer to do her own research. "Baby, can I see your phone?"
Without hesitation, Christopher jogged into the bathroom, grabbing onto Summer’s hips while she typed Lea’s name into google.
Five minutes into reading, Summer slammed his phone onto the counter.
"Finally!"
"You’re paying for that," Chris muttered, grabbing his phone, thankful that it wasn’t cracked.
"Sorry, baby." She leaned up and kissed his cheek before looking into her phone. "Ya’ll, okay, most of you should remember I played Mercedes sister, Alexus, on Glee, right?" A wave of "yes" rolled in. "So, I’ve worked with the bitch, and I am not exaggerating when I say bitch. That heifer is literally the worst person I have ever had the displeasure of working with."
Summer pushed Christopher out the bathroom, in case her adding onto the Lea Michele drag train somehow ended up bad. "Now, I’d heard she was a nightmare, but I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt."
"But, literally the first time I walked onto set and introduced myself to her, she looked me up and down, turned up her nose, and walked away." Summer clapped and covered her mouth. "It took everything in me not to call her ass out, but it was my first day, and I didn’t want to cause a scene."
"Obviously, I was a recurring star on the show so I would make appearances throughout the series, and each time I was there, she treated me, and everyone around her, like trash."
"Okay, but here’s the real tea, you know that read Alexus gave Rachel in season 3? That wasn’t in the script." Summer laughed at the comments. Her fans were freaking out. "My line ended when I told her I didn’t like her or something, but it was my last day of filming, and I’d literally had enough of her."
Even more comments came rolling in of laughing, frog, and tea emojis. Summer sucked her teeth and placed her hand on her hip. "Ya’ll, her white ass thought she was gone’ be a thirty something Maria from West Side Story on broadway." A beat. "Somebody had to let her know!"
78 notes · View notes
kafka-ish · 4 years
Text
the act of being a boy-friend | r.t.
y/n’s plan to make her crush, or ex crush, jealous backfires when she realizes she’s been the jealous one all along.
word count: 6.7k
warnings/included: fluff, losers aren’t friends anymore, fem!reader
a/n: i just rlly love writing love triangles hgeoigso also fake dating tropes ftw🥳
-
“What’s ruh-ruh-wrong? Juh-juh-hust tell me what I can do, and I’ll ff-fix it.” Bill sat next to y/n on his worn sofa. The two were watching a movie but he couldn’t put a pin on what was wrong until he noticed y/n wasn’t making her usual commentary. y/n always talked whenever they got together to watch a movie—either letting her petty remarks be known to the rest of the viewers or judging the style choice. And if she wasn’t talking, her face was stuffed full of popcorn or sour candy.
But y/n wasn’t doing either of those things.
She sat in a ball—her bare feet on his couch and her kneecaps digging into her stomach. Her eyes were wide and focused on the screen ahead of them that blared ET. Her nails that were in tip-top condition when she first showed up to Bill’s house, neatly trimmed and polished with a layer of topcoat were now bitten to the bed, ragged and raw.
“Why would you think something’s wrong?” y/n said, surprised that she was able to even squeak out the words after zoning out for so long. Something was wrong. But it wasn’t like y/n would tell him. This is what she wanted, right? Just the two of them—Bill’s arm wrapped around her while she pressed into his side while the only light in the room came from his television set.
So why did everything feel so wrong?
Richie and y/n had dated two months prior. Well… ‘dated’. The relationship wasn’t real, but the butterflies whenever Richie called her a dumb pet name or kissed her on the cheek (because kissing on the lips was too far) certainly felt real. And the heartbreak that came from him talking about other girls felt more real than the time y/n got stood up at the eighth-grade dance.
“I don’t wanna be your fuckin’ boyfriend,” Richie protested. His mouth was full of the turkey club sandwich he snagged from a detention buddy and his perfectly straight nose was now scrunched in disgust at the absurd idea his friend had to offer.
“I don’t get why you’re being so pissy about this.” y/n took the sandwich from him, taking a bite of her own and cringing at the taste of mustard that was hidden under the lettuce.
“Grow up.” Richie laughed at y/n who was using a napkin to wipe the tangy aftertaste off her tongue. “You know.” He took another bite. “This sorta shit never ends well.”
“What shit?” y/n prodded. She was still hooked on the idea of getting Richie to play house with her.
“The game where you and I pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend and eventually one of us falls for each other.” Richie was taking an oddly rational approach to y/n’s suggestion. But Richie was logical in a sense where he just knew.
“Who says I’d fall for you?” y/n poked at his shoulder. One of her eyebrows raised because in what world would she let herself catch feelings for Richie Tozier?
In this world. In this lifetime, y/n would let herself fall for one of her best friends, only to be dating her longtime crush.
“How could you not?” Richie smirked but y/n could tell he was just joking. “I’m irresistible, love.” His stupid British-man Voice made yet another appearance and y/n had to refrain from hitting him.
“What about me?” y/n didn’t care whether or not Richie found her attractive, but to say his response never left her mind after that day would be an understatement.
“Well, just look at you.” Richie put the sandwich down. “If it’s anyone, I’ll be having a harder time.”
“So does that mean you’ll go through with it?” A new light hit y/n’s eyes; the sparkle almost blinding Richie who was shaking his head.
“I don’t get why you’re so hung up about this.” He sighed. y/n could tell he was getting annoyed, but y/n was also persistent. If she wanted something, she’d get it; careless about the lengths she’d have to go through for her fantasies to become a truth. Her truth.
“I’m just saying there are benefits for both of us.” y/n’s head tilted to the side, trying to get a better glimpse at Richie now gnawing at his lunch like an animal.
“Benefits?” Richie asked mid-bite.
“Yeah. I can make Bill Denbrough jealous and he’ll fall madly in love with me. Same for you and your ex.”
“Bill Denbrough?” Richie ignored the mention of his ex-girlfriend. He was fifty-percent sure he was already over her, but the other fifty percent of him still stole glances in her direction and kept a copy of her school picture in his wallet. But Bill Denbrough? y/n had a crush on the Bill Denbrough? Richie had to take a moment for his ears to adjust to this staggering news.
Bill Denbrough was a baseball player and Richie’s old childhood friend. Him, Bill, Stan Uris (who was coincidentally also on Derry’s baseball team), Mike Hanlon (who didn’t play baseball but football), Ben Hanscom (he was on the track team), Eddie Kaspbrak, and Beverly Marsh were all a group back in middle school. And Bill and Richie went way back—back to elementary school. It was until the end of freshman year when Stan tried out for baseball (Bill tagged along but made the team anyway) and Mike brought up how he wanted to go out for football next year.
Everyone’s interests started to diverge. Everyone started to diverge. They still went to Mike’s games at the beginning of their sophomore year, but their lunches together only seemed to happen on Wednesday and their afternoon hangouts at the quarry turned into just Richie smoking puffs on the edge; the only company being his portable radio.
Richie befriended y/n sophomore year, around the same time he and his friends fizzed out in January’s crisp air. He met her in his new art class when Derry High released students’ new schedules for the second semester. They’d stayed friends ever since; sharing their lunches and staying after school to finish up on a Social Studies project that wasn’t worth the grade they received. y/n was the one to comfort Richie after his breakup with Vanessa Jennings, but this was the first Richie had ever heard of y/n’s crush on Bill. He didn’t even know she knew Bill.
“You like Bill Denbrough?”
y/n nodded. “So, what do you say? Partner…”
Richie gave in. Although it wasn’t in his interest to get back with Vanessa, he’d still go along with y/n’s scheme.
He’d pick her up at her house before school at seven o’clock sharp—whether it was in his dad’s old Chevy or by foot in his red Converse.
y/n rushed to her front door as soon as she heard a ring. Her hair was half done, and she hadn’t had enough time to do her makeup yet. Luckily, she was already dressed in her school clothes—the denim of her jeans scuffing together when she walked, and her red blouse having to be pulled down every time she rose her arms.
“Morning, sugar.” Richie’s lazy grin and tired eyes never failed to bring a smile on her face even before they started ‘dating’. His hair wasn’t brushed at all, making y/n feel better about her appearance. His body leaned slanted against the doorframe while he waited for her and the white tip of his Converse made its attempt to dig into the porch.
“Sugar?” y/n asked, bemused. She grabbed her keys from the table next to the door, using them to lock the door behind her.
“You look different today.” y/n’s head raised from its once concentrated position from the lock on her door.
“Different how?” She inquired, mostly wondering if this difference was a good or bad thing.
“You look good.” y/n’s cheeks couldn’t help but heat at the compliment. Richie was always calling her cutesy names or saying shit like actually, now that my glasses are on, your ass does look good in those jeans. This should be no different, right?
It only felt different because they were… an item is what y/n convinced herself somewhere along the drive to school. Richie opened the door for her when she got in (and out), but in return, she’d have to let him play his favorite station.
“it’s only courtesy, babe.” Richie shrugged but his eyes kept on the road. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”
But two weeks in, y/n found out she liked what this rock ‘n roll guy had to offer. She liked the loud beat of the drum and how the guitar sang in her ears. She liked Richie’s voice that overpowered Elvis’s when he sang along to the lyrics, knowing every word by heart.
“I don’t get why you’re taking me anywhere,” y/n said. She sat in the passenger’s seat of his car like she usually did. “We don’t have to pretend unless we’re, like, in public.” Her voice became small, almost regretting the words that came out of her mouth. Secretly, she hoped Richie wouldn’t turn the 1965 Chevrolet Camaro around.
“It’s not like we aren’t friends.” Richie’s thumb made a tap, tap, tapping sound against the steering wheel. “Friends hang out, right?”
y/n smiled but didn’t answer. It never occurred to her that they weren’t dating. After a while, it just seemed so natural; the hand holding under lunch tables; the way he held her binder for her.
“Is that heavy, sweetheart?” Richie stood next to y/n, intently watching as she struggled with her books in one arm: her other hand turning the combination lock. His gaze never left her figure. He was thoughtful, caring…
“Kind of, but you don’t need to—”
Ignoring y/n, Richie took the books from her hold. He already had books of his own to carry, but he couldn’t let his girlfriend struggle with hers.
“Yeah… friends.” y/n couldn’t seem to face him while uttering the words. Friends. The declaration felt so distant. After all, they had been more than friends—or pretending to be more than friends. But at the end of the day, y/n didn’t know if she wanted to be just friends with Richie Tozier. That was new considering, she never saw Richie as something else. Something that greeted her with flowers before school and held open the door for her. Not until now, no. Richie was always… Richie.
Richie Tozier who was always caught doing his homework last minute in art—because that’s the easiest class, babe. Richie Tozier who liked detention because he could catch up on a few extra minutes of lost beauty sleep. Richie Tozier who stopped bringing his lunch to school because you’re the only sugar I need.
y/n rolled the window down, letting a breeze sweep through her hair and tickle her skin. She needed a distraction because the recent epiphany of the boy next to her being the reason for her heart palpitations was something to need a distraction from.
The sky bled orange and purple—the colors perfectly melted into one another—and y/n wondered if this wasn’t their world after all. Maybe they were being controlled and the puppeteer behind her was playing some sick joke by making her catch feelings for Richie Tozier. y/n didn’t even notice they came to a stop until the click of Richie’s seatbelt grabbed her ears from their trance.
“You comin’?” Richie asked from outside of her side of the car. He was hunched down, his forearm resting on the door to help prop him up.
“Yeah.” y/n swallowed but it hurt. It felt like acid ripped through her esophagus but the only thing she had to drink that day was water. She reached for the door handle, but Richie was faster, already opening the door himself. “Such a gentleman,” y/n snickered.
“Of course.” Richie stayed behind to lock the doors.
“So, you drove me, just a friend, all the way out to the best milkshakes in town?” y/n asked, eyeing the neon-lit sign that read
 Hwy 90
The highway to your stomach.
They served other things, but they specialized in milkshakes—something neither Richie nor y/n would care to pass up. But nothing y/n would drive thirty minutes for just for some glorified ice cream in a glass.
“It’s the least I could do.” Richie opened the door for y/n once again. The entrance door to the diner made a jingling sound as the top corner hit the bells which hung from the ceiling.
“The least you could do?” y/n wondered aloud, but Richie wasn’t given the chance to answer her question when a waitress scurried up to them, a stack of menus in one arm and a bundle of silverware in the other. She was taller than y/n but shorter than Richie and she wore black and white bowling shoes to match the wide-legged jeans and polo underneath her apron. “Is it just you two?” She asked sweetly, hiking the pile of menus up higher on her arm.
“Yeah,” Richie said. He stuffed his hands in his back pocket, not knowing where to put them.
The waitress showed them to a small booth that sat in the corner of the brightly lit restaurant. It was too bright for y/n’s eyes under the red, blue, and pink hues that reflected across the shiny white tile, But the corner table the girl had brought them to would do. There was a certain coziness to it, or maybe it was the thought of sitting so close to Richie in a public setting that settled y/n’s eyes.
“I’m Annie. I’ll be your server today,” the girl said as soon as Richie and y/n slid into their respective sides of the red pleather seats. She was fast-talking and all shades of nervousness as her left hand went to grab the number two pencil that fastened the blonde curls that were pinned in a knot on top of her head. “Can I get you anything?”
“A menu would be nice,” y/n said. In front of them sat a table, salt and pepper shakers, and a half-empty Heinz ketchup bottle. Annie had forgotten to give the two a menu.
“My apologies!” She exclaimed, bashful. She handed them each a menu to sift through.
“Don’t sweat it.” Richie winked in her direction and y/n felt herself grow… what was that? Anger? Annie’s pale skin blushed a bright red and y/n could tell it wasn’t the apron making her feel hot.
It took Richie a full-fledged thirty seconds and two skims through the laminated paper for him to decide what he wanted, and it took y/n at least two minutes. “I’ll have a Cookies n Cream. Extra sweet.” Just like you.
y/n was biting her thumb and still reading over the same three flavors that caught her eye while Annie stood patiently waiting for her response. Richie was messing with the saltshaker. His leg found hers under the table and gave it a quick kick.
“Ouch.” She looked up from the menu, averting her attention to the boy in front of her with a fix glare. “Can I have Vanilla? With a cherry on top?”
Annie scribbled down both of their orders in messy writing before making her way across the floor and to the kitchen.
“Vanilla?” Richie laughed and y/n didn’t know what was so funny. “’Cause you’re vanilla?” He covered his mouth with his hand before another fit of laughter would consume the table.
“Shut up.” Swiftly, y/n’s leg propelled into his which caused Richie’s laughs to die down, replaced by a single yelp.
“So…” Richie’s eyebrows wiggled. His nails, which were painted a shade of deep blue by y/n and already chipped, thumped against the surface of the table. y/n could tell whatever he was beginning to suggest wouldn’t be something she liked just from the tone of his voice.
“So?”
“Why Bill?” Oh.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She knew exactly what he meant.
“Why do you like ole Big Bill?” The nickname had slipped out unconsciously. The nickname Richie hadn’t heard in years. The nickname Richie hadn’t said in years. It felt exotic on his lips, but comforting, like a hug from his mom.
Why did she like Bill? y/n asked herself silently. She was gnawing on the inside of her cheek when the question popped up again and the sound of Bill’s voice startled her.
“What’s ruh-ruh-wrong? Juh-juh-hust tell me what I can do, and I’ll ff-fix it.” What was wrong? Seemingly, everything was perfect. The boy y/n had been crushing on for years was finally in her reach—her grasp, even. Bill’s head turned to face y/n, but his arm stayed tightly coiled around her side. It wasn’t the same as Richie’s possessive hold from two months ago. His hand that played with the fabric of her shirt felt cold. Bill felt cold.
It couldn’t be that she missed Richie, no. Richie was busy—probably swapping spit with one Vanessa Jennings. Vanessa with the light brown hair and curls that framed her not-too-big head ever so perfectly. Vanessa who never needed a tan. Vanessa with the long legs that were probably wrapped—
But it didn’t matter. y/n was busy, too. The Bill Denbrough was at her side and she couldn’t have asked for anything else. She didn’t need anything else. Not when his red flannel hugged her torso because are you could? My parents won’t let me turn up the heat, but I can offer you this. Like a gentleman, he proceeded to strip the flannel from his bodice, leaving him in a white baseball tee.
“Why would you think something’s wrong?” y/n looked at Bill then looked down to see the nails she had just painted were now ruined. She looked up again. “Nothing’s wrong,” she assured, not all convincingly.
“You just… yo-you ha-haven’t-t s-s-said anything since you cuh-cuh-walked in.”
“I haven’t?” y/n asked, now picking at the tip of her thumb, hoping what had taken two weeks to grow out would magically regrow in seconds. Saving his voice, Bill only shook his head.
“You nuh-know you can tuh-tell me. Ruh-right?” y/n nodded but what could she tell him?
Sorry I’ve been holding a massive crush on you for years like one holds a cleaver over their head but all of a sudden I’m into this guy I met in my art class who never brushes his hair and writes ‘smoking and smoking hot’ on his college resume.
“I think I’m just tired,” she lied while also feigning a yawn. She covered her mouth when it opened, pretending to be sleepy.
“Do-do you want me to tuh-take you home?” Bill asked. He was just as thoughtful as Richie. He was just as handsome as Richie, maybe even more. So why couldn’t y/n bring herself to like him as much as Richie? His arm left from her side and he used it to pick up the remote, turning the tv off. The worst part was, that when Bill’s hand stopped playing with the fabric of the flannel she wore and his arm left her frame, she didn’t feel a coldness that would usually wash over her when Richie’s arm left her. She felt free.
“I don’t want our afternoon to be spoiled,” y/n said. Her eyebrows furrowed and even though she knew she was lying through her teeth, she wanted to make this work. After all these years of pining for her study partner and favorite Derry High baseball player, she needed for this to work. To see the vision she’d created in her head, just a mere two years ago, collapse in front of her very eyes broke her. But at the same time, she was indifferent. Why should she care about the boy in front of her when the boy she actually wanted was a neighborhood away?
“Tr-trust me. It-it’s not.” Bill shrugged. He stood up and offered y/n his hand which she didn’t take. Instead, she sat there, planted in her same seat, waiting for him to continue. “I can tuh-take you home. And wuh-we can hang out to-tomorrow. You nuh-know when you’re well rested.” All of the sudden, this felt very real. Hanging out with Bill felt real. Being at his house felt real. And though his efforts were valiant, y/n couldn’t accept the offer.
A smile graced her lips and Bill mirrored that. “Yeah, okay. Uh, take me home—please.”
y/n stood up and Bill guided her to the door and to Zach Denbrough’s car as if she hadn’t had the place memorized from when she first came over for a History project they’d been assigned to do.
What did she ever see in him?
“I don’t know.” y/n’s shoulders bopped up and down and even though her figure was hunched, Richie still thought she looked graceful.
“Are you just sayin’ that or did you end up falling in love with little ole me and you can’t think of anything?” Just then, their milkshakes arrived. Both in frosted glass and both with a cherry on top. A feeling of relief swallowed the lump in her throat, or maybe that was the taste of vanilla ice cream now that she was given some time, and a reason, to stall. y/n hated how on-the-nose Richie could be. But she also loved that about him. He could be so, so unexpectedly smart about some things. Things that were right in front of her that she’d never even notice until Richie pointed it out. “Oh, come on.” Richie’s words would’ve sliced through the silence in the air if it weren’t for the chatter of other people and jukebox playing in the background. “Seriously, y/n/n, there’s gotta be something that drew you to him.”
“Well… he’s nice.”
“Okay cut the crap.”
“What?” y/n asked, finding herself annoyed that she not only had to reveal her feelings to a boy she may or may not like but also because he’s nice apparently wasn’t a sufficient enough answer.
“I need an actual answer. Not some bullshit response like he’s nice or he’s funny. Anyone can be nice or funny, y/n.”
“Well, whether you like it or not, Bill is nice. He’s genuine, and cares about the people around him… Selfless.”
Richie was upset at her response. Not because y/n countered his argument in a way he was left speechless but because she was right. Bill was the nice guy and Richie… wasn’t. Bill was the one who looked out for others, making sure they were okay. He was the one who made sure no one got left behind. He was the one everyone looked up to—not Richie, Bill. It was always Bill. Whereas Richie’s just the guy who stands in the background making funny noises only to be told to shut up.
“Yeah… Bill is nice.”
“Don’t tell me you’re my competition, Tozier.” y/n laughed at the oddity of fighting with Richie for the chance to be with Bill.
“Nah,” Richie shook his head, his hair flying in any direction possible. “You’re lucky I’m not, though. You wouldn’t have the chance, babe.”
y/n wanted to eat her heart out at the usage of babe in such an informal setting where they didn’t have to pretend, but the maraschino cherry resting on top of the pile of whipped cream would suffice. “Do you still like Vanessa?” The words tumbled from y/n’s mouth like they were nothing. But embarrassment replaced the blood flowing through her veins once she was aware of what she just said.
“It’s… complicated,” Richie said honestly, not caring that y/n might’ve crossed boundaries just then.
“What’s complicated?” y/n cocked her head like a puppy questioning why its master was making weird hand motions.
“You’ll understand when you’re older, kid.” Richie didn’t mean to come off as condescending, but he did.
“I’m the same age as you.” y/n crossed her arms after pushing away the half-empty, frosted glass in front of her.
Ignoring the red straw in his drink, Richie brought the edge of the glass to his lips and swallowed the thick shake. “Here’s the thing. Vanessa and I go way back.”
“How far is way back if you only dated her for four months?” y/n regretted even bringing her up. Maybe it was different back then, back when the two were actually dating. But now, y/n couldn’t remember a time when someone said the name ‘Richie Tozier’ and her heart didn’t feel like it would explode into a collision of fireworks.
“Four and a half,” Richie corrected with a grin breaking out on his lips. “But I dunno. She’s just special.”
“Special as in…?” y/n probed, and she hated herself for her big mouth that wouldn’t stop applying lemon juice to an obviously open wound.
“I love her.” Richie took another drink of Cookies n Cream, which was more cream than cookies, and y/n sat there in shock. She would be silly to think that after all these weeks, Richie would feel the same way about her. After all, he had a life outside of the fake one they’d construed. Or maybe Richie was just less emotionally confined to these sorts of things. He knew better than to get caught up in a fake relationship. Of course he would.
But knowing Richie still loved his ex, struck something in y/n’s core. And the fact that he was able to say it in such a nonchalant manner—such casualty—only dug deeper at the pit in her stomach.
“You love her?” y/n asked, her mouth still full of the sweet treat he’d pay for later in the evening.
“Love. Loved.” Richie shrugged like this was nothing—well, maybe this was nothing. Maybe y/n was the speck of dust on his shirt and him shrugging was the last of her existence from his being leaving. “What’s the difference?”
“There’s a big difference.” y/n wanted to scream. Luckily, she had enough self-perseverance to keep her composure. She swallowed. “One is past tense, and one is present tense.”
“How ‘bout I put it this way.” Richie set aside his drink so now nothing was blocking his view of y/n. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. “I don’t like…” He paused. Revealing that he had no intention in getting back with his once first love would possibly wreck this whole thing. “If Vanessa asked, I’d probably get back with her,” Richie finally said, thinking that must’ve been a suitable way to word the jumble of letters floating around in his head like alphabet soup.
“You would?” y/n asked, feeling like a little kid all over again.
Richie didn’t say anything.
“Do you and her still…”
“Still what?”
“Talk, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” y/n messed with her fingers, pulling at a hangnail she’d know she’d regret doing when it got to later in the night.
“Nah. But don’t worry about it, sweets.” Richie took out his wallet only to be met with a picture of the dreaded girl they’d just been talking about. He gulped. His spit tasted like Oreos and he knew he’d have a stomachache later. Richie thumbed out a ten-dollar bill and five ones to keep Alexander Hamilton company. “Ole Vanessa could never get in the way of you if that’s what you’re wonderin’.”
It was what she was wondering.
But she’d never let Richie know that. y/n crossed her arms tighter around her torso because right now it felt like Richie could see right through her.
Richie drove her home in the same way Bill would a month from that night. But Richie had a better taste in music and y/n was actually sad to part from him when he left her at her doorstep.
“I’m really sorry I had to cut our time short,” y/n said. She was sorry.
“It’s ff-fine. I al-already sai—”
“Yeah, but I feel awful, Bill.” y/n finally mucked up the courage to look him in the eye. Those blue eyes that’d been searching for hers all afternoon. “This was probably like… the worst first date in the history of first dates.”
“Ih-it’s not so bad. But that duh-depends on how muh-many first dates you’ve been on.” Bill laughed and y/n was trying to figure out what was funny about what he said.
“You’ve been on worse ones?” y/n asked anxiously.
“Luh-let’s just say th-they duh-didn’t get a second date.”
y/n nodded while her hands started to search for the keys in her purse.
“I’ll ss-see you tuh-tomorrow?”
“Or at my funeral. Whichever comes first.” For a moment, the bad thoughts cleared from the surface of y/n’s head. Laughter was the only thing she was aware of for a moment.
“Bye, y/n/n.”
“Bye, Richie,” y/n said bashfully. Her hands were strewn behind her back because she didn’t know what they would do if they weren’t. He was about to walk off—off into the moonlight. And y/n would have to wait until Monday to see him again. It was one day too long because she knew even though the two of them had nothing better to do tomorrow, he’d see it as just friends whereas y/n would see it… differently. “Richie, wait!”
“What?” Richie turned around. His hands sat inside of his front pockets and his posture was slumped, as always.
“Thanks… for tonight.” Richie nodded, and validation from him served as a sick kind of ego booster that egged y/n to keep going. “They really are the best milkshakes in town.”
“Yeah.” Richie’s scratchy voice soothed y/n under the frosty air that came from winters in Maine. y/n stepped closer, her hands still behind her back.
“Did you have a good time?”
“You know I always have a good time when I’m with you.” Richie nudged y/n’s elbow with his but was taken aback by her hands that now gripped his shoulders and how suddenly close she was against him.
y/n kissed him on the cheek, not daring to go for his lips because who’s ever heard of a kiss goodbye on the cheek? Is probably what Stacy Howards would retort back to her after she’d spill the happenings of Saturday night to Derry High’s favorite cheerleader in study hall.
His cheek tasted like salt and Irish Spring—that is, if she knew what Irish Spring tasted like. Which she definitely didn’t.
She didn’t linger long. Richie wished she stayed longer. The kiss was short and sweet and the taste of vanilla on her lips replaced a fraction of his cheek that tasted like body wash and sodium chloride.
“Goodnight,” y/n said, now finally coming to her senses.
“Ye-yeah.” Richie blinked, an alternative to pinching himself in front of the girl he’d been pretending to date. “Night.” But after pretending for so long, Richie couldn’t help but notice the less it felt like pretending.
y/n closed the door behind her with a slam, making sure to lock it in case intruders were in the neighborhood. Now that Bill was gone, her first instinct was to call up Richie—tell him that the date went well, and how he was such a great friend, and thanks for the help. But there were only so many times she could lie to a boy she felt feelings so deeply for. The first, coincidentally, was when Richie had asked how things were going with Bill.
“Make any progress so far?” Richie asked with a face full of ham. They were eating lunch together, per usual. But this time, unlike the many times before, the hand that wasn’t holding his sandwich was rubbing circles on y/n’s small hand that Richie’s swallowed.
“Comme ci comme ça.” y/n smiled to herself at her basic understanding any French One student would master. “It’s going alright…” y/n had never been a natural liar. Whenever she told her parents she had cleaned her room when she, in fact, didn’t, the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and her forearm broke out in an itch she could never quite scratch. But her internal biological workings had given her a break today. There was no itch and her hairs stayed in place from when she styled her hair that morning.
“What’s alright?” Richie questioned, though it sounded more like an interrogation.
“He started talking to me more.”
“He didn’t already talk to you?” Richie’s eyebrow rose because how were you supposed to fall for a guy you barely talked to?
“Well, yeah, he talks to me.” The pad of Richie’s thumb that was drawing slow circles onto y/n’s knuckles turned into lines. Back and forth. Back and forth. “But he used to talk to me about classwork and… you know, like, school.” Richie smiled when she talked. He was happy for his friend. He truly was. But he couldn’t stand the fact that the guy she was talking about wasn’t him—let alone, his former best friend. “And in APUSH, instead of asking about my grade or whatever, he… asked about me.”
“What’d Mister Charming have to say?”
Mister Charming sat two seats away from y/n. But that didn’t stop him from talking to her. Every now and then, Bill would steal glances at the girl from his peripheral vision. Sometimes, if he were feeling bold, he’d turn to face her—but that action only occurred when she was speaking. Today, however, was different. Today he’d talk to her.
Lucky for Bill, the pencil sharpener sat in the back of class—close to where y/n’s seat was.
“Hey.”
y/n looked up from her textbook. She didn’t want to assume the hushed voice was for her—but she had to figure the tap on her shoulder was.
“Hi.” She set her pencil down and folded her arms flat on the desk. “What’s up?” y/n swore she sounded insane. Who says what’s up—
“Th-the sky.” Bill’s smile made cloudy days seem cloudless. “I was wuh-wondering ih—” He swallowed the trail of saliva that gathered in the back of his throat. “If… are yo-you and Ruh-Richie like…”
“No!” y/n said quickly and a little too loudly.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Muh-maybe we cuh-could hang out… This Saturday work?” A stroke of nervousness flitted across his features for a second even though Bill didn’t have anything to be nervous about. The rest of y/n’s words got caught in her throat and she instinctively found herself writing down her number on the scratch piece of paper Mr. Ferguson passed out for notetaking.
“Call me.”
Bill did call. Which was precisely how y/n was stuck frozen in time; her back slanted against the door and her thoughts racing against one another.
She had two options at hand. Call Richie. Find Richie. Or wait it out for tomorrow when Bill’s same car would be in her driveway, waiting for her.
But a third option was already at y/n’s doorstep, contemplating ringing the doorbell.
Richie Tozier stood outside of y/n’s front door, palms sweaty and unusually anxious for confrontation. His pale fingers knotted together. It was their way of stalling from interacting with y/n for as long as possible—or as long as curfew would allow him to.
“Hey.” His stalling attempt was left unsuccessful when y/n opened the door. Ironically, he was just the person she had hoped to run into. “What are… what are you doing?”
“Me?” Richie’s eyebrows stitched together, and he pointed to himself with his index finger.
“You’re the only one here,” y/n deadpanned.
“I was just in the neighborhood, y’know. Doin’ neighborly things.”
“You don’t live in this neighborhood.” Richie feigned laughter but this time y/n didn’t laugh with him. “Seriously, Rich, why are you here? You knew I had my date with Bill and—”
“And what?” His tone grew firm, like it had grabbed her by the hand and urged whatever was eating at her insides out of her.
“And I don’t think you should be here, after I just got done with my date with somebody else!” y/n said with a shaky breath. She could feel her heartbeat almost burning through her chest that rose and fell harshly.
“How was it? Your date?” Richie had calmed down, but y/n didn’t.
“It went bad. Is that what you wanted to hear?” y/n muttered, but it could’ve been mistaken for a yell.
“No, why would you think—hold on. What’s up with you?” Richie’s hands stuffed themselves in his front pocket. His posture was hunched over, and his face now screwed together, trying to understand the girl standing before him.
“I don’t know.” The flame that had once ignited y/n’s lively spirits had died down. “I just. It didn’t go well, that’s all,” y/n said, unable to coax the words she actually wanted to say out of her lips.
“He wasn’t an asshole, was he?” Richie’s tone was protective—nothing y/n would expect from him two months ago when she’d gotten themselves into this mess.
“No! No.” y/n was complicated. First, she’d spew off about how her date was bad and now she was defending said date?
“God, y/n/n, can you just make up your mind?”
She could do that.
“You were right,” y/n declared.
“What?”
“Don’t make me say it again.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, but Richie could still make out what she was saying.
“Well, I’m always right, toots. I just need context—”
“About the fake dating thing. How eventually one person’s bound to fall for the other…” Her toes curled from under the white Converse she hadn’t had time to slip off. They were worn and the bottoms were yellowing from the number of times she’d matched them to an outfit. “And you don’t look like you’re on your knees, so.”
“So, what?” y/n didn’t notice the smirk edging on the corners of Richie’s lips.
“Tozier, don’t make me say it.”
“You have to, or God knows how long we’ll be standing on this fuckin’ porch,” Richie said patiently. Patient. Richie was never patient—always the one to urge his friends to hurry the fuck up, always the one to ask are we there yet? But this time he was. His figure stood still and ominous, like Santa on Christmas Eve. His breathing held steady in his lungs that had seen more smoke than his mother’s kitchen and his feet stood planted on the concrete stoop of y/n’s house and they’d stay there until she told him the very damned thing she didn’t want to.
“I like you, okay?” y/n knew if she blinked, the dam of tears in her eyes would finally burst and the last thing she wanted was having Richie Tozier see her cry. Well, second to last thing. The first thing on that list had already happened. “Look, I know you’re still in love with Van-Vanessa.” It hurt to say the girl’s name because she wasn’t just a girl, she was Richie’s ex. “But you asked me to say it and I did. So there.”
y/n was about to turn back. Back into her house and back out of this friendship. It was only because Richie laughed that y/n stopped. His chuckle was like music, not the kind that Richie blasted in his car with the windows down, but like a symphony. And if y/n were any less mortified right now, maybe she’d stop to admire it—him—for one second more.
She was about to ask why. Why are you mocking me when I’m so clearly in a vulnerable state right now? Why are you mocking me after I’d just shared something so deep and personal with the likes of you? About the likes of you? But y/n didn’t get the chance when Richie surged forward and pressed a kiss against her lips. She could feel her heart pick up even more at the taste of him: spearmint and tobacco. She thought it’d stabilize itself once his lips left hers, but it didn’t. His taste lingered and at the time it felt permanent, like a red stain on white furniture.
“Like I said. Ole Vanessa could never get in the way of you.” His breath hit her face, warm and intoxicating, and y/n could only think that kissing Richie on the lips was way better than kissing him on the cheek.
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winnies-headcannons · 4 years
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Kyoya x reader
Secret crush
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Summery: kyoya just knew he liked you from the way you walked to the way you care for others. You were a family friend of kyoya so he had known you since birth, he had secretly liked you for awhile but family buisnness got in the way. You guys havent talked in a while but when you joined the host club his heart stopped.
Trigger warnings: Drinking, arguing, fluff, slapping
A/N: I hope you like this, I've been having writers block lately but this idea inspired me!! Anyway enjoy!
Koya's eyes widened, his heart racing like horses on a race track. Out of everyone in the school, Tamaki had to choose you to be the new host, a girl he had known since birth, a female he had liked for forever but too stubborn to tell you. You meant everything to him but he let his work get in the way. He had pushed you away to focus on the family business as he tried to impress his father.
After the host introduced themselves you smiled, you couldn't help but stare at the black-haired glasses-wearing guy, he looked more mature than he did when you guys were little. His chest was buffer, his facial expression more serious. It was kinda...hot.
"Hi, my name is l/n y/n, second-year student!" You exclaimed introducing yourself to the hosts, you were honestly excited to get started. You were the first female to be in the club that will be working with guys (besides Haruhi at times). One thing you didnt except was that your childhood best friend/crush would be the manager of this type of club. I mean come on the Kyoya ootori a host? Kinda hard to believe, he wasn't the 'host' type.
"Well well well, got ourselves a cute little kitten~" the ginger-haired makes spoke in sync, your face became a light shade of pink "you're gonna be fun~," the one named Hikaru said resting his arm around your shoulders. Kyoya got pissed, he didn't want anyone to touch you but he didn't want anyone to know so he just watched from behind the black book he always writes in. "Wow Tamaki was right you two do look just alike!" You smiled, you can't believe the resemblance they had, identical twins!
It was a few hours before the club opens and you were just starting it up with the club. They told you how they wanted something more for the club, they wanted it to surpass high school, you found it quite amazing how hard they work just to please girls. "Oh that reminds me, you didn't get to meet kyoya when we introduced ourselves!" Tamaki exclaimed "no need me and y/n have known each other for years" kyoya interrupted, "she's a family friend" his voice monotone, never looking up from his book. The club mentally facepalmed, they knew there was a reason why you didn't talk to him. "Yup, but we kinds fell off in middle school..so we haven't really talked since then" your heart pulled at you're chest, it hurt you've loved him for so long yet he just pushes you away.
"I didnt seem you to be the host type kyoya" you exclaimed turning around to look at him, he smirked from behind the big black book "nor did I, tamki talked me into it" turning toward tamaki he was doing his little kingly pose "yes all my idea!" God he was full of it. "We must not delay the ladies and gentlemen-" he looked towards you "are going to be here soon! We must get the club ready" everyone nodded got to their designed spot but kyoya didnt move just sat there so you decided to sit with him at the back of the room. "So..how have you been" you shyly said, you noticed how he didnt even look up from his book not once. "If your attempting to small talk me its not gonna work, Y/N I'm a very busy man and I dont have time for silly small talk" this made your heart hurt, you knew he wouldnt really wanna see you but figured it's been so long since you've last seen each other, Guess you were wrong.
"O-okay" you put on a fake smile and walked to your designated spot fighting back tears. In the back of your head thinking maybe, just maybe he would be different. Hours have gone by and it was honestly a good first day, flirting with guys and them flirting back, even got a few numbers. Your population was growing quickly, I mean it should everyone knew at this point that your family was close to the ootori family so they wanted to get on your good side. School had ended at this point and you were waiting by the front gate for your ride, but thanks to the buisnness of your father and his driver he couldnt make it. You had gotten the text on your phone a few minutes ago that he couldnt make it, you only sighed not surprised but disappointed.
Sitting on the front gate fountain you sighed, how were you gonna get home? It was too far to walk and you didn't really know anyone well enough to get a ride with someone except..no, no you couldn't, he didn't wanna even talk to you let alone give you a ride home.
"Your father not coming?" A voice appeared out of nowhere. Looking up from the phone you see the devil himself, Kyoya. "Ah, no he's busy" a fake smiled crept on your face, he was the last person you wanted to see at the moment.
"Well seeing as we live close to each other it would only make sense you ride with me" his dace black his stare harsh, you didn't want to but yet you did. Only wanting to know why he pushed you away so much. "A-alright" you agreed, walking with him to his limo. "We're taking miss L/N home first" kyoya exclaimed to the drive, he only nodded and drive off. It was silent half of the way there till you got the guts to speak "Kyoya..why did you push me away" oh God why did you ask that your anxiety oh the frights now. He looked up at you and was silent for a quick second "Y/N you should know the answer. We are both very important people and we can't let a friendship get in the way of things" he huffed out "but we've known each other all this time why now" he was starting to piss you off, you just wanted your friend back, you wanted to see if y'all could be more. "Because my father's business is much more important than our petty friendship" tears were on the verge of your eyes, clenching your fist on your dress "why do you care so much" looking down and tears falling down your face "because I love you.." He eyes widened and his heart racing, did you really mean it? All this time he thought you were just playing him. "y/N I-" suddenly he was cut off by the sudden stop of the limo. "Don't bother kyoya like you said, your work is way more important than me" you got out of the limo leaving him speechless.
The last thing you remember about that night was running to your room and crying your eyes out, you even snuck into your dads room and stole some alcohol and chugged it, throwing it up instantly as your body wasn't use to it. Even though you kept puking you just kept drinking till eventually you were drunk off your ass making you fall asleep.
The next day the worst hangover hit you, school was the last thing on your mind but had no choice, after spending to much time in the bed past your alarm you got up and got ready for school. Arriving at school you went straight to the host club knowing everyone would be in there, rubbing your temple as you opened the door. "Wow Y/N you look like shit" one of the twins said you only grunted at their statement and sat down on the couch next to haruhi "jesus Y/N you smell like alcohol" the female dressed as a male (still valid) covered their nose. "Sorry didnt have time to shower, but damn I have a hangover like no tomorrow" rubbing your temple Mori handed you a water with a simple 'here'then walked away. The hosts was crowded around you wanting to know why you drank so much last night. "Listen guys I dont wanna talk about it." Kyoya was getting mad, a simple argument made you drink so much last nigh? He slammed his book closed causing everyone to be quiet, he stood up quickly and walked to you grabbing you by the hand causing you to stand "are you stupid? Drinking at your age, ruining your system" he stared you straight in the eyes "why do you care, why not just go write in your little book if yours." You harshly said making his jump back a little "if you weren't such a DICK maybe you would have more friends, maybe someone would love you MAYBE-" you were cut off by a pair if warm soft lips, it was kyoya, his hands on both side of your face. You never kissed back only stared at him in shock. Soon he let go of your alcohol tasting lips, "I do love you" you heart skipped a beat, beating as fast as it could go, tears formed at the edge of your eyes.
Slap
Your hand met his soft pale face as hot tears streamed down your face. "I love you more" you smiled then hugged him, guess this is a perfect life.
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tellywoodtrash · 3 years
Text
immj2 09.04.21 lb
vansh's dumb ass rushing off to that random address he saw. like......... are you even checking on google maps ki kya area hai, is it conducive to having a secret person stashed there as a hostage? pata chala udhar tak pohunch gaye aur ek big bazaar hai.
ishani tripping riddhima as she runs into the house. such middle school bitchidity.
and now some interrogation of really wtf are you and vansh bhai upto all the time, coz no normal ppl can understand wtf your relationship dynamic is anymore.
blah blah some dhamki on dadi ko pata challllllllllll gaya toh??????
idc about this scene except for ishani looking hot af. i love her shirt dress and red lipstick. style icon.
anyway riddhima promises answers in 24 hours and fucks off.
lol vansh reached destination and from the looks of it, it's an empty lot. lmaooooooooooooo, fucking idiot. pehle hi bola tha maine, check kar udhar hai kya.
riddhima meanwhile steals the black box, which changes how it looks every single day.
calls vyom and is like i did my part of the deal, now your turn. they arrange the drop.
lmao vansh comes home to empty safe. follows her as she goes and dumps it in the recycling bins and tells vyom to pick it up.
hoodie waale kisine aake pick up kar diya. which i'm sure is not vyom, but angre/someone else instead.
ew vansh rootin around in the garbage bin for the box. sees it's gone and is all smirkily "INTERESTINGGGGGGG VERYYYYYYYY INTERESTINGGGG" about it. ok either box iske aadmi ne uthaaya hai ya woh asli waala black box nahi tha. warna yeh itna khush nahi hota.
ugh siya is video calling vyom and all WHYYYY CAN'T I COME SEEEE YOUUUUUUUUUUU?!?!!? i promiseeeee i won't disturb you while you work, i'll just keep looking at you and listening to you. what the ever loving fuck? behen, the relationship you're describing is the one ppl have with animals in zoos. yuck i actually cannot watch this shit man, i'm fwding.
anyway riddhima walks in hearing his voice from siya's room. ek toh yeh kaun bewakoof hai jo apne secret bf se BINA HEADPHONES ke baat karta hai? ffs, 6th graders doing aashiqui better than these fucks.
riddhima yelling at siya about getting involved with shunya circle zero man, while siya yelling back about how did YOUUUUUU see my earring with him, why are YOUUUU meeting him huh?!!?? and vyom is just there on the call like
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riddhima trying to warn siya ki he's not a good man............. sis kabhi apne relationships ko dekha hai???? you're running on full 100% in the dept. of having romantic relationships with psychopathic men who try to injure/kill you on a weekly basis.
asdkjsakjdhksajdhksajhdkj i honestly am vyom in this sitch, who's enjoying this convo to the maxxxxxxxx. zoom call par baithe kisi aur ke ghar ka kalesh dekhne ka mazzzaaaa hi kuch aur hai.
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angre losing his mind about riddhima stealing the box and vansh is all cool which meansssss........ nakli tha. for sure. shoulda known when we saw it looked diff itself.
lmaooooooooooooooo black box ko orange paint kar ke rakha hua hai iss chutiye ne. and he's bragging about how no one can open it without the key.
meanwhile peeth pe key waali didi andar jhaank ke spying kar rahi hai, as per usual.
kabir over here like main riddhima riddhima chillaaunga, banyaan phaad ke........... guard has had enough of his shit and tells him to stfu.
someone from outside hears this chillam-chilli and calls the police. wow, a responsible citizen, in this show?????????? unbohlievable.
cut to riddhima walking into bedroom (in whole new outfit; huh??? is it a whole other day suddenly?????) which is decorated like a mixture of a grade school on valentine's day + the set of a suhaag raat porno, lmao. husband is also in here, in his red velvet suit, giving her bhaaaaari sex eyes.
riddhima's thinking lagta hai issko pata nahi chala ke maine naak ke neeche se box udaa liya, warne yeh saare phool meri arthiiii pe chadhte.
this b has some nerve talking to siya about her "dangerous relationship" with that shirtless bhopuuuu player when her own husband/said chick's elder brother is a quasi-murderer they live with.
LMAO THEIR WHOLEASS BED IS GONE. ABHI SESK KAHAAN KAROGE? IS CHHOTE SE DINING TABLE PAR? ouff, they must still be in their 20s if they don't require proper lumbar support.
gives her a rose, ofc she pricks herself on a thorn, and nowwwww.... he's sucking on her finger. I'M SORRY THIS IS NOT ROMANTIC OR SEXY AT ALLLLLLLLLLLLL. SHE DIDN'T EVEN WASH HER HANDS AFTER COMING INTO THE ROOM!!!!!!!!!! FUCKERS GONNA START SOME INCURABLE PANDEMIC OF THEIR OWN LIKE THIS.
she's all ohohohoho dard bhi tum, dawa bhi tum huh? and he's like yeah babyyyyyyyyyy, coz tum poori ki poori meriiiiiii ho.
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ok the sexy is getting scary now. as is on par with this fucker. never a moment where heart rate can be at resting rate with him. and not in a good way.
she's telling him she wants to tell him something, give him some surprise....... and he's like.... ok? and they slow dance while making shakki faces at each other's back.
kabirrrrrrr stillllllllll screaming for riddhima. guard finally calls her and makes him speak to her. she's like bitch tf you want i was about to get laidddddd.........
kabir suddenly in i love you i love you mode. shady. kal tak toh yeh gaana nahi chal raha tha??? *acp pradyuman hand motion* kuch toh gadbad hai.
whoopsssssssssss, police is here. guard is like fuck someone musta called hearing this dude's ruckus.
kabir is like mwahahahahahaha, your game is over now. police will find meeeeee and freeeeee meeeee.
lmaoooooooooo she talks to the police and says ki woh jo chila raha hai, mera mentally unstable bhai hai, toh bas...... inspector is like SAY NO MORE MA'AM, WE DON'T WANNA CHECK ON THE MENTALLY ILL, THAT'S A YOU PROBLEM, NOT AN US PROBLEM AS A SOCIETY, SO GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR CRAZY BRO, BYEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
anyway she's like listen up kabir, my deal is over, i'll tell vansh the truth and then you'll be free. so part of the deal with vyom is to keep kabir locked up???????? hein? what even.........
kabir freaking out about riddhima telling vansh the truth, and keeps on saying he'll murder her........ DUDE WHAT THIS SORDID TRUTH ANYWAY IM SO DONE JUST OUT WITH IT ALREADY
vansh comes outta the bathroom shirtless and............... lollipop ladki is here sexily breaking wine glasses in his bedroom. zero boundaries up in this house. NONE WHATSOEVER.
ok sorry i'm not paying attn to anything being said rn coz
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lollipop ladki is like why not we drink from one glass and he's like 🤨🤨🤨
wifey's here to spoil the party.
or to make it better????????? coz lol she's like make it three glasses of wine! won't you invite me to whatever's going on???? she looks waaaay more into lollipop ladki than vansh is, which would be the best possible development to riddhima's character.
vansh like hein aise kaise you stealing girl away from meeeeee, and telling lollipop girl ki why don't you and i just chug from the bottle?
cursory invitation to riddhima too.......... man, why is this giving heavy threesome vibes???
riddhima like "no thanks, mujhe do se zyaada hont ek bottle par achche nahi lagte." alksjdlaskjdlsakjdlsajkdlaksjdlka
vansh: achche toh mujhe bhi nahi lagte.
riddhima: par lagta hai tumhe toh kisi ke bhi chalenge.
OUCHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
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lmaoooooooo now these two are just having their own petty pati-patni fight filled with vague statements about trust and misunderstandings, and lollipop girl is just here like
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precap: riddhima about to tell vansh the whole truth or whatever, when vyom calls and is like wtf you gave me a fake black box. riddhima and vansh are once again fighting about truth and dhoka and like.......... bro. idc anymore. someone take your shirt off to make this worth my while.
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kim-seungmine · 4 years
Text
dream the night away
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title: dream the night away
characters: (fem) reader x hwang hyunjin of stray kids
genre: slice-of-life, romance, angst, best friends to lovers au, idol au, idol!hyunjin, hyunjin centric, inspired by 3racha’s cloud 9 but not really?
warnings: minor character death, sometimes heavy, slow burn (aka i wanted it to be but i wasn’t patient enough), i tried to proofread, i gave up trying to format text convo on tumblr, i think they kiss a lot.
word count: 11.6k i’m so sorry
synopsis: one night, hyunjin wonders how he long can stay floating on cloud 9 before he loses his balance and falls all the way down to the pits of hell. After that, nothing feels right.
disclaimer: this is idol!hyunjin so i just wanna say that this is not how hyunjin is in real life and im not trying to convince you that he feels the things in the story. some parts are inspired by the things they’ve said but everything that happens here is pure fiction... which actually goes without saying since this is a fanfic, but i just feel the need to say it. for my personal long ass author’s note, you can read it below.
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Hyunjin is met with darkness when he steps into the dorm. It used to be more packed, it used to be messier, and it used to be really loud. Now he only shares the dorm with the 00z who are surprisingly quiet if you think about it. Seungmin sleeps early, Felix has his headphones stuck to his ears and plays games until the sun rises, and Jisung is snugged somewhere watching movies. On busier days, Seungmin and Felix are at the company for lessons and Jisung spends the night at the studio with Chan and Changbin. Hyunjin, meanwhile, usually has some photoshoots.
However, tonight feels unnaturally quiet, especially since Hyunjin has just won his first Bonsang as a solo artist. He switches the lights on, and his friends are soundlessly huddled together by the fridge, Jisung holding a small cake.
“Surprise!” Seungmin exclaims rather flatly as Hyunjin drops to the floor out of shock, shouting profanities. Felix proceeds to grab some candles from the kitchen counter and lights them up. “Come on, blow the candles."
Hyunjin lets out an amused sigh, rising to his feet before blowing all the candles out. “Please tell me these aren’t those candles that stay lit n—what the hell.”
He continues blowing, his friends giggling while Seungmin groans. “Why did you have to curse? I was about to post that on Instagram Story!”
“Why are we doing this anyways? We’re not 18 anymore,” Hyunjin protests half-heartedly. He can’t really remember the last time they gave each other a proper surprise. It feels like ages ago. Jisung scoffs, searching for a knife inside one of the kitchen drawers. Slicing the cake, he retorts, “Your dramatic ass loves surprises, stop denying it.”
“Anyone has anything to do tonight? The hyungs want to come over,” Felix informs while typing on his phone. Hyunjin’s vibrates after a few seconds; everyone on the Stray Kids group chat must be congratulating him.
Seungmin opens the chat, frowning. “Where’s Jeongin?”
“He hasn’t been replying since hours ago. That brat probably fell asleep. Just ask his bro if he’s home,” Hyunjin suggests, about to reply to Chan’s message when another message pops up.
y/n: sorry i couldnt watch the show
y/n: but i saw the news! congratulations!!
y/n: so proud of you, as always!
Hyunjin’s eyes light up at your messages. It’s been months since he saw you; he’s been busy with his solo debut and you’ve been busy with school. When both of you were children, you often pictured how life would be. Hyunjin would be a famous soccer player for Manchester United and the captain of South Korea national team. You would be studying to become a doctor.
He finds it funny that you’re doing the exact same thing while he’s doing something he never even imagined before. Hyunjin is always amazed at how well you planned your whole life and executed every single plan, albeit not always instantly.
After all these years, though, he dares to say that both of you turned out okay. Amazing, even.
“Order whatever you want. I’m eating outside but I’ll be back soon,” Hyunjin tells his friends, bombarding you with messages before you turn your phone off, the thing you always do when you’re about to cram.
Seungmin arches an eyebrow. “Y/N?”
“Yeah. I asked whether she wants to eat gopchang with me.”
“You should really be careful.”
“Everyone knows we’re best friends. No one will make a weird rumor or anything.”
Jisung clicks his tongue. “Well, do you?”
Whenever someone talks about you, it always leads to this very conversation. Hyunjin decides to let Jisung’s question (sarcasm) hang in the air, but he knows the answer. Yes, he knows you and him are just best friends. Does he like it that way?
Hyunjin knows the answer to that too. He only pretends that he doesn’t.
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You’re already slurping your soup when Hyunjin says hi to the restaurant owners, Mr and Mrs. Jang. “Oh Hyunjinnie, I just watched you on TV. You won something, right?” he asks. His wife ushers him to sit down, putting extra servings of kimchi on the table.
“Why didn’t I get extra kimchi?” You pout, shooting a jealous glare at Hyunjin who’s busy explaining what a Bonsang is to the owners.
“You did a good job, then,” Mrs. Jang coos. “You don’t need to pay today. It’s on us!”
You quickly put your spoon down. “What about me? I barely sleep thesedays, and I’m not as rich as Hyunjin!”
“Aigoo, you started eating before your friend came then demand for free food. You’re lucky we love you as much as we love Hyunjin.”
The couple laugh at your reaction, jokingly scolding you for being whinier than Hyunjin when it used to be the other way around. He smiles, remembering all the times he forced you to eat his eggplants for him and the times when he begged you to help him study because he needed to beat all of his friends.
“Eat,” you scowl. “You only have half an hour to brag. I have a night shift.”
Out of the times you’re being petty towards him, you were only seriously petty once: when he beat your English score in ninth grade although you were the one teaching him. He had to bribe you with a week’s worth of Haribo jellies before you stopped ignoring him.
Hyunjin giggles. “When’s your exam? Tomorrow?”
“Next week,” you whine. “But I have so many things to do! And I think someone stole my notes, I can’t seem to find them anywhere. Do you even understand half the pain I’m going through right now? All I need is one solid hour of sleep.”
“Hmm,” he hums. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
You widen your eyes, eyeing Hyunjin from head to toe. “Sometimes I forget you’re Stray Kids’ Hyunjin.”
He pretends to stab himself on the chest. “That h-hurts,” he fake-groans. “Then who do you think I am?”
“My neighbor,” you answer. “—who doesn’t even live at home anymore.”
“To be fair, you’re practically holed in hospital now.”
“Yeah but I go home every two weeks? You go home twice a year.”
“Excuse me?! I went home on your birthday… in the middle of a tour! I could’ve been sleeping or practicing, but I came home!”
He always “argues” with you until both of you are out of breath, clutching your chests because it somehow feels hilarious. You drink the last few drops of the soup right from your bowl, setting it back on the table and empty your glass in one go.
“I don’t have enough energy for this,” you sigh dreamily, prepping your head on your arm. “Tell me about everything. Your first Bonsang.”
Hyunjin can still hear his fans’ voices chanting his name and cheering for him as he delivered his speech while sobbing (this is what he hates from solo promotions, nobody else is there to stop him from crying or taking over the mic from him so he could calm himself down). He remembers every single word he said and the proud faces of his fellow artists. The thrill, the triumph, the satisfaction, the love… it’s making him emotional all over again.
He grabs a tissue to blow his nose. “I was surprised when the company said that I was invited. Our group hasn’t made a comeback this year, and although my song did chart quite well, I never expected they would even invite me.”
“They gave me a 5-minute stage! I was so happy, I sent you my rehearsal videos, right?”
You nod, imitating one of the moves in his dance break.
“Everything was even more amazing on stage, with Stays watching me. I think I was possessed during the performance… I was goddamn nervous though.”
“Yeah, I watched it on the way here. You kept licking your lip, I don’t care if your fans think that’s hot. To me you’re just a nervous mess…”
Hyunjin has started to pout when you add, “… who did a very great job nevertheless! It’s just that I’ve known you so long. You can’t hide anything from me.”
He notices how you’re holding your breath, waiting for him to respond. After years, Hyunjin thought he would take negative comments much less seriously, but apparently it didn’t become easier. It became harder, so hard that he had to take a 3-month hiatus last year.
With you, everything is different. You can tell him that he sucks big time and he’ll take it seriously, but he never gets offended. There are a lot of times when people treat him like he’s made of glass (or a snowflake, Seungmin once said), but you treat him the way you’ve always treated him and he loves it. None of his other friends understands, but your honesty is priceless. It’s what keeps him going; he knows you’ll never cherish him less no matter what you say about the way he dances and raps, or the way he looks and behaves. And he’s sure that his honesty also means the world to you. You are each other’s toughest critic, but it will never change anything.
“Hyunjin.” You place your hand over his, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. It just slipped out of my mouth.”
He chuckles, flipping his palm to squeeze your hand. “You idiot. You just stated the facts.”
You squeeze his hand back before pulling away. “I’m looking at Hwang Hyunjin of Stray Kids who sold over 100.000 copies of his first solo album, who won Bonsang for the first time, who gets worshiped by everyone he locks eyes with—except for me of course. I’m a very proud friend.”
“Stop it.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but unable to hide his smile once he sees you grinning like a happy child. “How much time do we have left?”
You glance at your phone, sighing when a reminder for you to study pops up. “5 minutes. I have to go back to the hospital soon.”
“Can you even study during your shift?”
“I have to,” you mumble. “Anyways, thanks for dragging me out. I did miss you after all.”
“I missed you too,” Hyunjin says, probably too quick for his own good but he doesn’t regret it.
“I’ll be going now.” You stretch your limbs, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Any last words before I go to war?”
“I should be the one asking you that.”
“Oh, right.”
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Chan is the only one awake by the time Hyunjin gets back home. He huffs in regret, knowing that the hyungs decided to stay over to celebrate his Bonsang win. The leader greets him with a bear hug, carefully avoiding Felix and Minho who are fast asleep on the floor. “We’re so happy for you!” he whisper-yells. “How was Y/N?”
Hyunjin returns his hug with an even tighter one. “Thanks hyung. You composed the song after all! And sorry I came back too late.”
Chan shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. At some point we forgot why we were here and just started playing mafia.”
“Y/N is fine, anyways, just tired.”
“She’s always tired, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. It turns out that medical students are probably more tired than us.”
Hyunjin leads Chan to his bedroom. Each of the 00z has their own bedroom now. It’s much more convenient and they can arrange their stuff however they want to (they avoid entering Jisung’s room as much as possible), but Hyunjin misses the mess at times. The old dorm was cramped, either too hot or too cold, and way too noisy, but it was home for quite a long time.
Chan seems to be having the same thought. “We miss you kiddos sometimes,” he laughs. “But we fixed that sliding door. It closes properly now.”
“As long as Changbin hyung keeps opening it with too much force it will be broken again in no time. Trust me.”
Both of them are lying on Hyunjin’s king size bed, staring at the sideboard table he dedicates for his music show—and now, music award—trophies. “The kids don’t really say it but they’re all so proud of you. I’m proud of you. I raised you well, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you kinda did.”
“Kinda?!”
“I’m joking.” Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “You raised all of us. We raised Jeongin. And we raised each other.”
“3racha are almost finished choosing the final songs, you have 2 weeks to relax then we’ll start production right away. Our next tour won’t start until May, so we have plenty of time to prepare everything.”
“Ohhhhh I can feel my bones breaking already. We’re getting old,” Hyunjin whines.
Chan pats his thighs, cracking his knuckles before jumping out of bed. “You’re getting old,” he teases.
“I’m glad, though. Everything finally works out the way we wanted to. I guess we can say that we’re doing well now, right?”
Chan doesn’t wait for Hyunjin to answer and leaves the room right away. The latter ponders the rhetorical question for a while, recalling the goals they have reached for the past few years. Entering the Melon chart (and staying on Top 20 for a week), having one of the most successful world tour, winning prestigious awards at prestigious music awards, 3racha getting acknowledged as the industry’s top composers, 00z winning music shows for their unit debut last year, Jeongin getting drama roles, and last but not least, Hyunjin’s successful solo debut.
Feeling nostalgic, he scrolls through his phone, looking at old photos and silly videos. Looking at the lyrics he wrote on his note app. Then he goes through @realstraykids’ posts on Instagram, from when Jeongin still had braces until tonight. The latest selcas on his own official account are still getting likes, the fans showering him with praises.
Hyunjin has ticked off everything from his wish list. He has reached every goal he set a few years ago. They are doing well. He’s doing well.
He looks at his surroundings, immersing himself in the space and peace of his room that he once craved desperately. He’s supposed to be at peace now, but his mind won’t stop buzzing, asking himself what to do next.
For the very first time, Hyunjin realizes that he’s now floating on Cloud 9. Everything is perfect, he’s living his dream life. But at the back of his head, he can hear the clock ticking, ready to push him over the edge the moment he loses his balance, watching him fall all the way to the pits of hell.
Everything is perfect, but why does his heart feel so empty?
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Hyunjin’s brows furrow as he tries to catch some comments the fans are posting. When he was a rookie he couldn’t get used to how fast the comments come in, and it’s something that doesn’t quite change. Probably he got used to it at some point, but they kept gaining fans that the comment section is always extremely active.
“Hyunjin oppa,” he pronounces the words slowly. ”Spo-spoiler please!”
He lifts his head to give the viewers a secretive smile. “Nope.” He wiggles his forefinger. “You have to wait for the teasers!”
“Ohhh the comments! You guys are so excited I can’t keep up!”
More comments flood in, and Hyunjin has to press his phone screen in order to read the one comment he’s been trying to read. “Recommend me a song, please!”
“Uhhh—” He takes some time to think of the songs he’s been listening to, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table while the comments keep coming in, but this time he spots words that stab him right on his gut. With trembling hands, he lifts his phone, clicking the report button as subtle as possible. His vision grows blurry as he reports every single comment that has the word “fuck you”, “die” or “talentless” in it.
The pause has become too long and too awkward, so he stops himself from reporting more and stares at the lens. “Ah, song recommendation!” he exclaims. “I have quite a lot but thesedays I’ve been listening to 00z songs a lot. We had so much fun promoting together.”
Hyunjin feels his other phone vibrating in his pocket, probably his mother checking in. It gives him a boost of energy, and he tells his fans he’ll stay with them for 10 more minutes. “When we’re just talking like this, I’m always reminded that we’ve come so far,” Hyunjin says, a smile on his face. “It feels good to know that all of you are making time for us, for me, after your busy day. And no, I’m not sleepy. Don’t worry, everyone!”
He reads some more comments, mostly cheesy pickup lines to cheer himself up as his brain is still trying to get all the hurtful words out of his system. “Ah, I think I have to go now,” Hyunjin announces lowly. “I have to go back to practice, if not Chan hyung will barge in and drag me back to the practice room.”
“What? You want me to get scolded by Chan hyung? Why are you so mean?!”
Hyunjin ends up staying for 20 more minutes before finally ending the broadcast. Conversation with his fans is something he values a lot; it gives him strength and makes him laugh. It makes him feel loved and he wants his fans to feel the same.
But it’s equally tiring. He has to brace himself for some less-than-nice comments, sometimes they are way too severe for him to handle that the company sues all the commenters. You’ve told him over and over again that those people aren’t his fans.
Everything could’ve been worse. Hyunjin still considers himself very lucky that he has much more fans than haters. Still, he often imagines how it will feel if he has no hater at all, since he does have some friends who seem to only hear pretty words.
Hyunjin stays inside the room for a few more minutes, replying to Seungmin’s messages and assures him that he’ll be back soon. He idly plays one of their songs he hasn’t heard for years, the song that was always included in their setlist before being replaced by some other songs. Hyunjin initially thought he wouldn’t need that song anymore, but tonight, he needs it. Maybe he needs it more now than before.
After making a mental note to ask the other boys to add the song back to the concert’s setlist, Hyunjin leaves, cursing himself for taking too much time to regain his composure.
Should I stop or not? Should I give up or not?
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“Hwang Hyunjin, stop coming into my room without my permission! You literally trespassed into someone else’s property!”
Hyunjin groans into his pillow, instantly regretting his decision to pick up your call at midnight. “I didn’t!”
“Don’t lie to me. You took Gureum with you!”
He takes a quick glance at the rabbit plushie he placed on top of his pillow. Last night, he did go home because Kkami (everyone calls him old man now) got a little sick. “I miiiiight have made a quick detour next door when I was about to leave.”
“You’re pathetic. You got soooooo many plushies and toys and cute headbands from fansigns and you stole my Gureum.”
“Stop guilt tripping me! I missed Gureum, okay? Why didn’t you take him to your dorm?”
Hyunjin senses your hesitation as you clear your throat. “Well, sometimes seeing Gureum only makes me miss everyone more, so I just left him at home.”
Now he feels guilty. Your parents are currently staying overseas to take care of your sick little sister. He pictures you coming to an empty home every two weeks, exhausted and not having anyone to welcome you.
“Do you want me to come over?”
“Our superstar isn’t busy?”
“I am, but I’m willing to sacrifice my precious time for my best friend.”
You scoff over the phone, but telling him to hurry up before ending the call. Hyunjin packs his clothes and toiletries, along with Gureum—his birthday present for your 11th birthday. You almost never sleep without it, yet the plushie still looks brand new.
Unable to hide his smitten smile, Hyunjin grabs his keys.
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The apartment complex where Hyunjin lives has changed a lot over the years. The soccer field he used to play at is now a playground. The little bookstore you loved so much is now a bakery. Now there’s a big shopping mall right across the building. After saving up for a while, Hyunjin asked his parents whether they wanted to move to a bigger place. He kind of hoped that they wouldn’t want it because he wanted to stay close to you (although coming home is a real challenge for him). Luckily, his parents said no.
He enters your door password leisurely, recalling the time when your parents told him to take care of you.
So far, you’ve been the one taking care of him.
Hyunjin heads straight to your bedroom, opening the door and sees you curling on your bed. The mattress he sleeps on whenever he stays over is already laid on the floor.
“Gureum!” you yell when he throws the squishy rabbit to you. Hyunjin drops his bag and settles himself on the mattress, staring up at you.
“How’s your sis?”
You scoot towards the end of the bed, showing him a photo on your phone. Your sister is smiling; she looks much better than before, but still very pale and thin. “I haven’t called her,” Hyunjin admits. “But she got the albums I sent to her. Sent the ones signed by the others too. That kid loves Jisung, do you know that?”
“I got her into Jisung.”
He sits up, looking almost offended. “Your bias is Han Jisung?”
“This world doesn’t revolve around you, superstar.” You flash him a cheeky grin. “I wanted to ask you to let me go to the backstage again last tour, but I restrained myself. As your kind best friend, I shouldn’t abuse my privilege.”
“You know that he never cleans his room, right?”
You hum, “Nobody’s perfect, Jinnie.”
“Oh come on!” Hyunjin protests. “If it’s Jeongin I understand although he also never cleans his room. But Jisung? And you’re calling yourself my best friend!”
“He’s funny!” you argue. ”He has a nice voice—it’s really sexy when he raps, he dances well, he wrote all my favorite Stray Kids songs, and he actually had the balls to fight you. A real champ.”
Hyunjin rolls his eyes, making a gesture to snatch Gureum away from you. “And at the end of the day, you love him,” you add. “He makes you laugh too.”
Well, it’s a fact he can’t refute. You ask, “Do you think I should hit on him or something? Will people call me out? Does he have someone?”
“We are not having this conversation Y/N. I don’t care if both of you are my best friends, you’re not dating Han Jisung. What happened to that ‘hot senior’ Jung Jaehyun? The last time we called, you were so in love with him.”
The mention of Jaehyun’s name causes you to slump into your bed, covering yourself with your thick blanket. “I sort of blew it up,” you mumble. “He asked me on a real date and I said no.”
You seem to hit realization that’s way too late, and now you’re hollering, “I said no to Jung Jaehyun! Oh my God Hyunjin… I’m such an idiot!”
Hyunjin can’t contain his giggles. Relief washes over him; you and Jaehyun seemed rather serious and while he wished you well, the thought of you being with someone else always pains him. He knows he’s not allowed to feel that way just because you’re best friends.
Most of the times, he can’t help it.
“He’s a real gentleman and he said he was into me. ME. Everyone would throw themselves at him but he came up to me and I flat out rejected him. What the hell is wrong with me?!”
You’re rolling on your bed, whining and kicking at the air. “I tried not to think about it but… it was just a date? Even if I didn’t end up dating him at least I could tell my grandchildren that I went on a date with Jung Jaehyun!”
“Is he really that great?” Hyunjin asks, out of curiosity but laced with jealousy he hopes you can’t see. His words sound distant to his own ears, triggering his fear of losing you.
“Yeah, I guess?”
You nudge his legs when he doesn’t respond. “How about you? Everything’s fine? You don’t look happy thesedays.”
Hyunjin never lies to you. You have a full access to his heart; he lets you in on his happiest days when life feels like the shiniest summer. He also lets you in even after the messiest thunderstorm when he feels that everything is fucked up. This time, he wants to lock you out. There’s nothing to see, there’s nothing to fix.
His heart is empty—he is empty, and he wants to protect you from the bleakness of it.
“I’m fine, just been arguing with Felix and Minho hyung over the song we’ll perform. It feels too monotone for me, but they think it’s perfect,” he explains, not completely lying. “I don’t know if I’m being selfish but somehow I just can’t let it go.”
“Have you tried explaining to them? Not how you feel, but how the song is. You can always go technical, you don’t need to worry just because Minho is more experienced.”
Hyunjin sighs. “I did, but probably it’s just me.”
“Do you wanna talk things out?” You yawn, squishing Gureum into your chest. “Or do you want to just sleep?”
He glances at the clock. “We both need sleep. It’s almost 3A.M.”
“Alright. Good night—I mean good morning!”
Hyunjin stretches his neck to look at you, your eyes are already closed. He relaxes his body and tries to sleep, but his jumbled mind keeps him awake. Hyunjin waits until you’re fast asleep before scooting closer, softly taking your hand in his before closing his eyes once again. He did it a lot when he was younger, holding your hand until he fell asleep. You nagged at him because it woke you up, but you never told him to stop doing it.
Tonight is no different.
“Hyunjin?”
“Sorry.”
You turn to him, “It’s okay.”
He mumbles a thank you, ready to go to sleep when you move to the mattress. Hyunjin gulps at the close proximity, it’s been too long since you slept on the same bed as him.
“Hyunjin, I missed you.”
Hyunjin heard a theory somewhere: 3.A.M-conversations are the most honest. It’s a little over 3A.M now, and he doesn’t how much of that theory is true, but your words fuel something deep within him. The feeling so strong he has to tear his gaze away from you. Hyunjin slowly pulls you into his arms, patting your back in rhythm with the clock.
He grazes his lips on your shoulder, mouthing his reply quietly, “I missed you too.”
You nod against his chest, pulling your hand out of his grasp so you could circle your arms around his torso.
Hyunjin falls asleep almost immediately, succumbing to the warmth and comfort you radiate.
He’s going to be alright.
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“Do you think I’ll ever debut?”
Hyunjin takes off his SOPA jacket, plopping onto the bed while you’re munching on a pack of jelly. “Let me sleep for 10 minutes. I have to go to the company after this.”
You slap his thigh. “Why do you always sleep in my room? If I got a dollar everytime you sabotage my bed I’d be really rich now. Get out, you have practice!”
He reaches for your knee, using it as a pillow. Hyunjin feels you soften as you card your hand through his hair. “Is it hard? Are those mean hyungs still bothering you?”
Hyunjin shakes his head. “Changbin hyung told those motherfuckers to mind their own business.”
“Stop cursing!” you hiss. “It’s not cool, and what if you accidentally curse on broadcast later? You have so much to learn…”
Hyunjin opens his eyes and smiles when he meets your gaze. “Do you think I’ll ever debut?” he repeats his question.
“Have you seen yourself dancing? You’re better than most of the trainees I saw at the open showcase. Plus you have so many girls screaming your name. No offense, but that is definitely a plus point.”
You give his head a little smack when you notice doubt flashing through his orbs. “I believe in you, Hyunjin. Don’t doubt yourself,” you tell him softly. “And if you need someone to give those ‘motherfuckers’ a lesson, just call me. I know some people who can shut them up.”
He lets out an obnoxious gasp. “Are you a gangster now?! Your parents are going to be so disappointed in you. Looks like you have to say goodbye to medical school now…”
You sigh, now it’s your turn to look at Hyunjin with doubt in your eyes. “I’ll get in, right? What if I flunk my results later?”
“This is why I hate smart people,” he bemoans. “You rank first in the whole school, stop saying nonsense.”
Both of you a few more minutes lying in silence. When he waves you goodbye, Hyunjin feels like he can soar.
He’s safe with you, and you’re safe with him.
“Hwang Hyunjin, get off me!”
Hyunjin wakes up to you trying to untangle your legs from his. He catches your flailing legs, removing his before examining your face. “It’s almost noon. Aren’t you running late?” you pester, pointing at the clock.
“Lunch?” he asks.
This is supposed to be awkward. Hyunjin can’t recall what happened a few hours ago before blushing—he’s never been that intimate with you before. You two have had a fair share of platonic cuddle sessions, but last night felt different.
“Not yet,” you mutter. “I just woke up. Oh God my back hurts.”
He wants to know whether you feel the same, but you’ve made your way to the bathroom before he could ask anything. “What do you want to eat?” you yell, almost incoherently due to the toothpaste in your mouth.
“You’re not going to shower?” Hyunjin playfully shrieks.
“It’s my day off!”
“My mom must’ve cooked something. Gimme 10 minutes.”
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Although he’s done this at least a hundred times, it’s still hard for Hyunjin to leave home. Seeing his he’s never able to stop his heart getting heavier at the sight of bidding his family goodbye until God knows when.
“Please come home more Y/N,” his mother asks you, raising her eyebrow. “Hyunjin seems to randomly pop up whenever you’re here, so please, come home more.”
You smack his back loudly, causing him to let out a choked groan. “I’ll teach him a lesson, don’t worry.”
Hyunjin gives his mother a sheepish smile, knowing all too well what she meant. He pulls you out before she starts grilling him for information, yelling one last goodbye before closing the door. You search for something inside your bag, stopping him from pressing the elevator button.
“You left something?”
“My dorm key,” you answer, walking back to your own unit. “You should just go,” you say. “It’s in the middle of the day anyways, we shouldn’t be seen together.”
Hyunjin follows you inside, watching you rummage through one of the buffet drawers. He notices how your shoulders are slumped and the way your eyebrows furrow. As his mind wanders to last night once again, you jab at his stomach lightly. “Hey, you’re spacing out.”
“Oh,” is all Hyunjin can say. He takes a good look of you, something he always does before he parts ways with you. Before he can stop himself, Hyunjin has wrapped his arms around you, letting you hear his erratic heartbeat. He still misses you, even after spending the whole night together.
Eventually, you pull away. “I’ll go first.” You ruffle his head. “See you when I see you?”
“See you soon,” he corrects you.
You smile, taking your bag from the floor and when he blinks, you’re gone.
Hyunjin still misses you now, even when you were just in his embrace a few minutes ago, burying your head into the crook of his neck. The empty space in his heart seems to expand whenever he thinks about you.
It hurts.
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Minho ends the dance practice and everyone collapses on the floor the moment the music stops playing. Hyunjin immediately restarts the discussion they had before practice started.
“We used to sing both Grow Up and You Can Stay, why do we have to choose one now?” he demands while all of them are sprawled on the floor. “Our fans miss it too, I think it’s the perfect chance to bring it back.”
Chan takes a deep breath, nodding at Hyunjin. “I can’t see why not,” he says with a chuckle. “I don’t even remember why we abandoned it in the first place.”
Hyunjin does, and he knows Chan does too. It was simple, really. The song that once gave them comfort turned into this big monster made out of their worst nightmares. Each member had cried to the song during some of their concerts, and now performing it in front of everyone always brings back the painful memories.
“Yeah, we should sing it again,” Felix adds, kicking Jisung’s leg so the latter would sit up and voice out his opinion. “Well.” Jisung scratches the back of his head, “I’m cool with it.”
The rest of the group mumbles similar answers and Chan claps, giving Hyunjin a thumbs up. “Hyunjinnie is all grown up,” he praises before gathering his things and leaves. Hyunjin snorts at the leader’s compliment, but his sparkly eyes can’t fool anyone.
He pulls out his phone to relay the happy news to you, but the sparks in his eyes quickly fade when his messages from hours ago are still unread.
“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” he asks.
Seungmin checks his phone. “5A.M.”
Hyunjin wipes his sweat, chugging his water. Their American tour starts in a few days, and while he’s ecstatic because they’ll be performing at LA Staples Center for the first time, he also feels uneasy.
He takes out his phone, opening his contacts and stops when he sees your name. He stares at the number he remembers by heart.
“You okay?” Seungmin asks. “If you’re worried about District 9’s formation change, don’t. You nailed it today.”
“District 9…” Hyunjin trails off. “We’re getting too old for District 9.”
Jeongin grunts in agreement. “Whenever we finish my head always spins for like a minute. It’s been too long.”
“Yah,” Seungmin scolds him. “You need to get it checked. What if there’s something wrong with your head?”
The youngest does an exaggerated head banging, earning a kick from the puppy-like boy. Hyunjin chuckles at the two’s antics; some things never really change, and he’s grateful that this is one of those things.
Seungmin throws a playful punch at Jeongin’s stomach one last time before focusing his gaze back on Hyunjin. “Seriously though, did something happen?”
Hyunjin’s brain has a lot of template answers to questions like this, but the cliché words on tip of his tongue feel burning. His friends wait patiently as he fumbles for words, blinking his tears away when he fails to find the right words.
“I don’t even know if there’s anything,” he finally concludes. “It’s just—ever since Bonsang, it’s been hard. It’s been… nothing. Empty.”
Seungmin and Jeongin only nod, as if they understand how he feels. They probably do, Hyunjin thinks. Maybe he’s not the only one. Maybe all of his members have experienced it at some point, although at different times. Hyunjin feels slightly relieved at the thought. I’m not insane.
When he was a trainee, he thought everything would be fine once he debuted. It was, to some extent. But he was young and naïve, and when things beyond his control happened, Hyunjin barely managed to stay afloat. People told him how to handle stress, how to voice out his concerns, how to manage his body, mind and soul. He knew how to survive, theoretically.
No one actually taught him nor the other boys, and for an 18 year-old boy, feelings got intense quickly. After some trials and errors, everyone figured that it was best not to bottle up their feelings. Once again, it sounded easy in theory. In reality, with so many things happening at once, most of them eventually created a space in their own heads to seal everything in. They endured.
Jeongin looks at him with hesitation, rubbing his hands together. “It happens,” he reassures him. “It’s okay to worry about it, hyung. But worry about it with me, please!” Jeongin raises his tone. “You can barge into my room anytime. You can annoy the hell out of me, but stop suffering alone, will you?!”
Seungmin can’t miss the chance to tease the maknae. “Says the one who cried alone all night long in the bathtub after losing his voice.”
“If I hadn’t found you, you would’ve passed out,” Hyunjin adds. Jeongin lifts his hands in defeat. “Whatever. But I meant what I said.”
“Our Jeongin is so dependable,” Hyunjin coos.
“You say that all the time.” Jeongin rolls his eyes. “And then still baby me.”
Seungmin takes Hyunjin’s phone from the floor, passing it to the owner. “Call Y/N.”
Hyunjin panics a little. “Why?”
Seungmin shrugs. “Better days start after meeting the person you want to see the most!”
“Speaking of you and Y/N,” Jeongin quips. “You guys aren’t in high school anymore, stop flirting with each other and date already.”
Hyunjin gets a surge of bravery and dials your number, but immediately regrets his decision with each passing minute. He almost ends the call when you finally answer. “Hyunjin?”
“H-hi,” he stammers. “Busy?”
“Kind of... What? What happened?”
“Can we meet? I only need a couple of minutes. You’re in Seoul, right?”
“I am. Hyunjin, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
It’s scaring me too.
“I want to tell you in person. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”
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Hyunjin isn’t sure when the lines between best friends and something more started to get blurry. The worse thing is, he realized it way too late and things got complicated before he could do anything about it.
“It’s too late to back out,” he mouths to himself while opening the stairwell door in the hospital you’re currently at. You’re sitting on one of the steps, dozing off as your head hits the wall every now and then.
Hyunjin runs his hand through his hair, guilt consuming him. He sits beside you, pulling your head to his right shoulder. The two of you always attended the same school until high school, when he decided to enroll in SOPA instead of a regular school. Since then, he never really knows what’s going on in your life. You told him about your close friends, the small fights, medical students’ inside jokes, the good looking boys, all the knowledge and experiences you’re grateful for despite the never-ending suffering and constant lack of sleep. You told him everything, but he’s never actually seen you in your world.
You’ve seen enough of his world—you’ve gone to his concerts, awards shows, even fansigns (as a prank because you wanted to see him getting all flustered while pretending not to know you). Hyunjin never has the time or makes an effort to do the same, and while it’s completely understandable due to the nature of his job, he feels like he’s going to lose you.
As he brushes your hair out of your face, Hyunjin asks himself whether he’s good enough for you.
“Whoa,” you suddenly whisper, straightening your body. “Did I fall asleep?”
Hyunjin stops you from getting up. “You must be tired.”
“So are you.” You remove his hand from your head. “So tell me. What’s going on?”
You’re here, sitting beside him, only wanting truth to come out of his mouth. Hyunjin bites his lip, the urge to just let go is eating him up, his soul begging him to get some answers. The familiar hollowness is back, and tears start to roll down his cheeks.
This isn’t the first time he cries in front of you, so you just pat his head, waiting for the tears to stop. “I’m sorry,” he groans. “I’m so sorry Y/N.”
You lift his head, eyes looking straight into his. “What for?” you mutter. “Hyunjin, please tell me.”
Hyunjin makes a silent plead at himself to toughen up, but it’s hard when you’re staring at him like this, wide eyes filled with raw concern and sincerity that never fail to touch the deepest part of his heart. “Hmm?” you prompt, still patting his head ever so softly.
“It’s been hard,” Hyunjin sniffles. “It’s hard to look forward to the future. I feel restless all the time. I have nothing to fight for. It’s…,” He makes gestures with his hand in attempt to explain it better. “… empty.”
You wipe his tears with the sleeve of your white coat. “Do you know why you feel that way?”
Hyunjin nods. “We’re doing well, we really are… and that’s probably why. Everything is going too well I don’t know what thrills me anymore. I thought I’d feel content once I reached all of my dreams, but that’s not the case.”
He examines your face, rehearsing the next lines in his head again and again. You cock an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. And the last bit of Hyunjin’s defense crumbles with every blink of your pretty eyes.
“And you… I miss you all the time. Even when you’re right here with me, I still miss you. I have to hold back whenever I’m with you because I don’t want you to run away from me. I love you, Y/N. I don’t know when it all started but maybe I’ve always loved you and it hurts me not being able to tell you that. The emptiness… it gets worse whenever you tell me we shouldn’t be seen together or that you have to go or when you have other boys like Jaehyun who are clearly better for you than I am because they can be there for you. I love you so bad you don’t know how hard it is to go through days without you, without kissing you good night, without hearing you laugh for me. I keep thinking, ‘what if you’re suddenly gone?’ Maybe you’ll leave me someday, maybe you’ll tell me that you can’t be my friend anymore, but I need you, Y/N. I love you and I need you here with me to keep going. I—”
Hyunjin watches you slowly—very slowly—retract your hand from his head as words fail him, and he feels as if his guts are being hammered to pieces. He can’t read your eyes, can’t even try to define what your gaze means.
You eventually stand up, pulling him up with you. “I’m not the answer, Hyunjin,” you mutter. “You can’t expect that you’ll never feel empty again once I say that I accept your feelings. It’s just—it’s not fair. This isn’t just about us not being together.”
“But—”
“I know,” you cut him off, your body start shaking due to all the tension. “I know. That’s how you feel, and I can’t dictate you what to feel and not to feel. Think about it like this…”
You pause to check if he’s still listening to you. He nods, weakly.
“… you spent years working your ass off to get recognition from everyone, and you did it. Don’t ever forget that, I’m begging you. So all of your dreams have come true and you feel lost now… it’s okay. You have a lot of time, Hyunjin. You can always have a new dream, you can have a thousand more. Don’t make me the answer to everything just because you haven’t found any other answer.”
You wait for him to respond, but Hyunjin is frozen to his spot. His world is now upside down, and he doesn’t know how long it will take to fix everything.
Your phone rings, snapping him out of his trance. You look at him apologetically. “I have to go.” Those damn words again. “Ask Seungmin to help you ice your face, you don’t want to show up at the airport with swollen eyes, do you? Call me before you take off, okay? Hyunjin?”
He can only nod, trying his best to give you the most reassuring smile. He feels everything all at once: shock, shame, sadness… but mostly regret because you’re right.
You always are.
“Have fun on tour! Send me all the photos you take!”
Now it’s turn for Hyunjin’s phone to ring as you make your way out, leaving him alone. He’s about to press the green button when the door opens once again. Hyunjin lets his phone ring, watching you fidget with your hands.
He’s still pretty much tongue-tied, but forces himself to ask, “Did you ever… love me? As more than friends?”
To his surprise, you take quick steps towards him, tiptoeing to press your lips on his. Your eyes are closed, your hands are tied to your sides and it takes Hyunjin his whole willpower to refrain himself from pulling your body closer, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the life out of you. He closes his eyes and just stands there, accepting whatever you’re willing to give him because there’s nothing he yearns more than your love and trust.
Hyunjin almost whines when you pull away with red cheeks and teary eyes. “Come back to me when you’re ready. I’ll wait for you. Only you.”
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It’s Hyunjin’s 10th (or 11th? He can’t really remember) visit to New York, but he’s still as excited as a kid with his lollipop. After years of traveling from country to country, Hyunjin realizes that he just doesn’t get bored, ever. Each place holds a special memory he keeps close to his heart, something sentimental that motivates him to go back every chance he gets.
“Stand there,” he motions at Seungmin—the only one who’s willing to accompany him walking around the Empire State Building for the nth time—to stand at the spot he points at. Seungmin follows his instruction, smiling when Hyunjin starts counting. They examine the result and Seungmin shoves his leg. “I guess you finally learned something.”
Hyunjin feigns hurt, setting his camera’s focus on a group of kids, holding his breath before pressing the shutter. “As if you taught me anything.”
He glances at his bandmate who’s busy taking photos with his own camera. Photo hunting with Seungmin is always in Hyunjin’s “limited free time” itinerary. They’ve strolled around so many cities together, sometimes it takes the whole day if time allows them. Strangely, Seungmin never gets bored of it either and although it’s no surprise since he loves photography more than anything else, Hyunjin is grateful.
“You never say no whenever I ask you to take photos with me,” Hyunjin states. “Why?”
Seungmin frowns. “What kind of question is that?”
“Just wondering,” Hyunjin mumbles. “We do pretty much the same thing everytime. Sometimes I force you to go to the places we’ve been to… don’t you get bored?”
“It’s always different everytime, I thought that’s why sometimes you take photos at the same place? It’s never exactly the same, don’t you think?”
Hyunjin goes through the photos he took in New York last year, smiling at some of them as he recalls the funny anecdotes behind them. When he slips his phone back into his jeans pocket and lets his eyes wander… yes, nothing is exactly the same.
“You truly are a photographer. When’s your next exhibition, Photographer Kim?”
Seungmin snaps his finger. “Ah! Exhibition! I forgot to ask you, why don’t we held a joint exhibition this time?”
“You want to show your photos along with my photos?”
“Why not? Yours are amazing too! And you’re my best friend, it’ll be fun.”
Hyunjin imagines having his photo framed on the wall. Small placards pinned underneath, containing the words he constructs to explain each of them. The fans will come to feel how it feels like to be here behind the lens. Maybe people who don’t even know him will come too, and get a chance to actually know him.
He reaches his phone to relay the idea to you, smiling to himself when he finds messages from you instead.
y/n: [sends a picture]
y/n: ahreum finally woke up today! isnt she pretty?
me: everyone is prettier than you
me: you must be happy!!
y/n: ??????
y/n: oh. she asked me to recommend boygroup songs
y/n: i made her listen to every single skz song
y/n: and your solo songs!!!!
me: awwwwwww
me: and you cant be doing this for free right?
“Is that your best friend slash girlfriend?” Seungmin is suddenly standing behind him, reading over his shoulder. “You guys are so cute it’s making me feel sick.”
Hyunjin sighs, gazing at the busy street upon him. “We’re not dating. At least not yet.”
“What happened? Just realized that I never really asked.”
“She asked me to come to her when I’m ready.”
Seungmin looks at him quizzically, but decides not to press him further. “Are you ready now?”
They’re flying back to Seoul next week, and while he thought he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the tour, he truly did. He thinks of all the good things that have happened: the sold out shows, the happy tears, his improvement, the upcoming exhibition with Seungmin, and lastly, you—the one who’s patiently waiting for him.
There have been a lot of times when Hyunjin feels like he’s everywhere but nowhere at the same time. It sounds scary, but now he realizes that he only needs to admit that he’s indeed everywhere, but never nowhere.
“Almost.”
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The instrumental of Grow Up starts to play and all the boys rush back to their designated positions. The atmosphere turns a bit more sentimental as the bridge approaches, they’re just looking at each other while Minho is singing his part. In the past, they often teased each other during this very part, afraid that they would break down if they let their emotions overtake them. Hyunjin averts his gaze to the audience, watching the beautiful color of their lightsticks light up the huge stadium. As he gestures at some of the fans to stop crying, Hyunjin thanks himself for convincing the others to add the song back to their setlist.
The song comes to an end, and Chan gathers everyone to make a circle. Hyunjin feels pats on his head and back, Chan’s voice drowned by the fans who are still singing. He can’t resist the urge to turn around, so he does just that, and what he won’t trade what he sees for anything.
Their fans are standing there, eyes focused on everyone on stage as they sing each syllable perfectly. Changbin follows his gaze, and soon all of them are facing the audience again, listening to every wish, every hope, and every message relayed through the lyrics of the song.
Hyunjin lifts his mic, eyes darting to Chan who gives him a nod of approval. “Thank you,” he begins. “This is our last stop for this tour, and I can’t be any prouder and thankful to all of you.”
He lets the translator translate his speech before continuing, “I had a lot of worries before the tour started. I honestly thought I wouldn’t be able to go through everything.”
“You made our dreams come true,” Hyunjin continues. “You made my dreams come true and I naively thought that was the end of everything. But I learned a lot during this tour, and once again, you made this happen. All the pretty words you told us, they mean a lot. They always will. I realized that this will always be my dream, no matter how many times this has come true. I want to make you, who stay with us throughout everything, happy. I want to be here for a very long time. I want to be with you, to be with the members and our family, for a very long time.”
He stops when he feels he can’t continue anymore, letting the others take the spotlight. He gives each of his bandmates with a loving gaze, stopping at Minho who lets tears roll down his cheeks this time. Jeongin is giggling beside him, walking over to wrap the tsundere hyung in a firm hug.
Hyunjin thinks they’ve really come a long way.
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Being back home usually gives Hyunjin a peace of mind, but when he sees no notification on his phone, he feels weird. He dials his mother’s number, his heart grows even more anxious when she picks up.
“Oh Hyunjin-ah, did you just land?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you come over here? Or do you have an important schedule?”
“No, we get 2 days off. What’s going on?”
“Y/N’s sister passed away. Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, we didn’t want you to panic.”
“Eomma! How could you?”
“I’m sorry. This is Y/N’s request as well. She’s been here for 2 days and no one can make her eat anything. Can you take her home?”
“I’ll be there soon.”
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“You’re going to live in Germany! You’re such a lucky kid!”
The little girl smiles bashfully as you pout at her. “The luckiest girl on Earth,” you add, fixing her messy hair.
“If you’re so jealous of me, why don’t you come along?”
“Are you kidding?” you exclaim. “I’m on my way to be the greatest doctor in this country. You can’t change my mind.”
“Alright, it’s time to go,” your father interrupts, giving you one last hug before whispering things into your ear. Hyunjin steps back to allow you say goodbye to your family, tearing up at the painful sight. Your father, a doctor, accepts an offer to work in a hospital in Germany and takes the whole family with him since your sick little sister needs more intensive treatment.
But you’re staying to become a great doctor like your father, hoping you’ll get a chance to cure your sister later.
“Please take care of her, Hyunjin. We trust you,” your mother tells him. Hyunjin nods, enveloping your hand in his. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here monitoring her every move and drag her back home whenever she spends too much time at the academy.”
Your sister laughs, bowing to Hyunjin. “I also want a boyfriend like Hyunjinoppa! Please take care of our unnie.”
You yank your hand away from him. “He’s not my boyfriend!”
Hyunjin seems unbothered by your statement, bowing to your family to annoy you more. “Our family will take care of her, you can trust us.”
Your sister’s smiling face greets Hyunjin as he enters the funeral home. He stares at the photo then closes his eyes to pray, whispering strings of apologies that’s always too late. I’m sorry I never visited you. I’m sorry I failed to take care of your sister. I’m sorry I didn’t call you enough.
He bows to your family, the first bow since years ago, and he wishes he could turn back time. Hyunjin turns to you, gazing into your tired eyes. Your mother pulls him towards you. “She hasn’t eaten at all. Can you please bring her home, Hyunjin? I hope you’re not too busy. I’m sorry that we meet like this.”
“Hyunjin just landed in Seoul. How could you force him to come here?” you snap, returning his gaze. “Go home. I’ll call you later.”
Hyunjin almost yells in frustration, but swallows everything before dragging you out, only tightening his grip on your wrist when you try to pry his hand off of you. You keep shouting at him, yelling at him to stop, but Hyunjin doesn’t budge. He drags you all the way to his car, opening the passenger door for you.
“Get in the car, Y/N.”
Without waiting for you to move, he lifts your body and sits you down, fastening your seatbelt. “Please don’t push me away,” he pleads. “Why do you always tell me go home, go back to practice, to leave… why?! I promised your parents to take care of you. I promised your sister, why aren’t you letting me do that?!”
“I never asked you to do that,” you mutter through gritted teeth, causing Hyunjin to grip your shoulders.
“You only said that to hurt me,” he replies. “Even now you’re still trying to push me away. I want to be here Y/N. Don’t you want me here?”
You avoid his eyes, keeping your gaze on your clasped hands. “Tell me,” Hyunjin challenges. “Tell me that you don’t want me to stay with you, and I’ll leave.”
He waits for you to respond, letting out a relieved sigh he doesn’t bother hiding when you shake your head. “Want you here. Thank you.”
“Have you cried?”
After your sister was born, you were told not to shed tears in front of her. Your parents always scolded you if you started crying when you saw her in pain, and after some time, it became a habit. A habit that Hyunjin absolutely despises since it makes you suppress your feelings, as if punishing you for having feelings.
“I don’t know… maybe I haven’t.”
“You lost your sister, you can cry. Your parents cried a lot too, it’s fine.”
You nod, resting your head in the crook of his neck when tears start to well up. Hyunjin presses a kiss on your temple, finding himself tearing up the moment you start sobbing, something he has never witnessed although he’s known you for almost his whole life.
“Is this your Armani suit?” you manage to voice in the middle of sobs and snorts. He takes you into his embrace, chuckling, “Yes, but you can ruin it however you want. Another privilege as my best friend.”
“Can I abuse this privilege?”
“Ruining my expensive suits?”
“No,” you laugh airily. “Crying when you’re with me.”
Hyunjin cups your wet cheeks, gently pushing your hands away when you want to wipe your tears away. “Anytime. You can cry, laugh, curse, get angry, get drunk… you can do anything when you’re with me.”
And that’s all it takes before you start sobbing into his suit again. Hyunjin is standing there for the longest time, sandwiched by the passenger seat and door of his car with you in his arms. He doesn’t care, he will do it all over again, and he will do much more. For you, and only you.
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“Where are you? It’s past midnight already!”
“Hwang Hyunjin, you’re lucky I’m willing to go home when I have a morning shift tomorrow,” you scold him over the phone.
“It’s my birthday! Wait, it isn’t even my birthday anymore!” he whines in an obnoxious tone that never fails to upset you. He giggles when he hears you huff, the sound of the elevator signaling that you’ve already arrived.
“You asked me to buy you a cake right before I left,” you hiss. “Now open the door, I’m outside.”
The call ends and Hyunjin rushes to the door. You’re carrying the red velvet cake he requested, the candles already lit and Hyunjin tries not to melt at the way you look at him. He did ask you to buy him a cake and “surprise” him at your apartment, but he is nowhere near ready to see you like this: all smiley and cheery for him despite sounding annoyed over the phone.
“Happy birthday,” you sing song, your smile growing wider as he blows the candle. Hyunjin returns your smile before taking the cake from you, pulling you towards your room. “Go get changed, I’ll slice the cake for you.”
A few minutes later, both of you are seated on your couch, talking about every little thing while enjoying the cake. Hyunjin tells you about Stray Kids’ upcoming comeback, a very special one since Minho choreographed the title track. You tell him about various cases that happened in the hospital while wondering if you’ll ever finish medical school and actually be a doctor.
Everything feels the way Hyunjin expects it to be, until you put your empty plate on the table and look at him straight in the eyes. “Hyunjin…”
He quickly swallows and places his plate on the table as well, never breaking eye contact with you. “What?”
You gulp. “Do you remember when I asked you to come find me when you’re ready?”
“Feels like yesterday.”
“Well,” you murmur. “I’m just wondering if you’re… ready.”
Fire lights up in his stomach, and before you can continue, Hyunjin is already trapping you between his body and the couch. “I am,” he says. “Are you?”
You brush his fringe with your fingers. “You were waiting for me?”
“You told me to start dreaming again, so I did,” Hyunjin recalls. “And I realized that all of my dreams are right in front of me—you, my family, the hyungs, Jeongin, the fans… keeping you guys with me is something I’ll always dream of although all of you are already here.”
You pout at him, but Hyunjin doesn’t miss the proud gleam in your eyes. “Then what’s taking you so long?”
He pinches your nose. “I waited for you to be ready, as you said before, it wasn’t just about us being together. I don’t want you to choose me only because you feel like you need me. I want you to… want me… to love me with a clear head. Just like what you wanted me to do. I want to give you the world, but only if you allow me to.”
You circle your arms around his neck, sighing happily, “You gave me the world, Hyunjin. You listen to me, you console me, you give me a shoulder to cry on. You’re the only one I’ve ever waited for, and I’m so glad that you came back to me.”
Hyunjin is sure that his whole system has stopped working, the words you just uttered feel like the strongest, yet the sweetest liquor he’s ever tasted. He is drunk on the love you offer; he’s drunk on your touch, your smile and everything you want to give him. You’re driving him nuts, completely nuts, but it’s the only thing he wants to feel. You are the only one he yearns to feel.
You seem to sense his burning gaze and start nibbling on your bottom lip. “So this is the part where you kiss me…”
“This is the part where I kiss you…”
You shake your head. “This feels weird. You’re my best friend.”
“You kissed me,” Hyunjin reminds you. “It’s not like we’ve never done it before.”
“No, but—” You pause to let yourself breathe. “I kissed you. This is different, I’m not going to survive you kissing me.”
“For the love of God Y/N, just—”
You point at your lips. “And I still have my lipgloss on!”
Hyunjin is caressing your reddening cheek now, trying to destroy the last bit of your defense. “And what’s wrong with that?” he asks softly.
“It’s sticky! Our lips will get stuck and it won’t be romantic.”
“So what do you want to do? Go into your room and wipe it off with a cotton pad or something?”
“Yeah, let’s do—”
Hyunjin doesn’t let you finish as he finally dives in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that set both of you on fire. He hums when he feels your body relax in his hold, allowing him to savor you with so much longing and want. Hyunjin lets his heart take the lead, kissing you harder whenever you tug the ends of his hair and making him putty under your touch. It never feels enough, it feels like he only gets hungrier everytime you return his kiss, the feeling of your lips moving against his almost destroys him.
Nothing is stopping him now, he came back to you and you welcomed him with open arms. Hyunjin leaves one more open mouthed kiss on your lips before pulling away with a loud pop, taking in the sight of you trying to breathe. You slowly meet his eyes with flushed cheeks, eyes mirroring his own and Hyunjin tries to remember every single detail. “God I love you so much,” he hears himself whisper.
You smile, lifting your hand to trace his face delicately. “I love you.”
“Are you mine now?” Hyunjin knows this is childish, but he wants to hear it. He longs to hear it.
Thankfully, you’re willing to play his game tonight. “Only yours.”
“No more mourning over Jung Jaehyun?”
“Jesus Christ, do you need to stoop that low.”
“Yes.” Hyunjin pecks your nose. “He doesn’t listen to K-pop, right? Introduce him to me.”
You roll your eyes. “I love you, why the hell are we talking about Jaehyun now?”
“Then what should we talk about?”
“Since we’re on a competition to ruin the mood, lemme burst your bubble: my parents are moving back in next week so we need another place to do... this.”
“Okay,” Hyunjin answers. “What are we gonna do now?”
You wrap your legs around his torso, making him gasp. “I don’t know, kiss me again? I’m gonna tell you this just once, but I, along with thousands of other people, have always wanted to kiss you. It made me feel pathetic, but it is what it is.”
Hyunjin blushes, but refuses to lose to you. “You tried to make me not kiss you a few minutes ago and now you’re desperate to kiss me. Was I that good?”
“Hmmm I guess so,” you hum.
He swiftly lifts your body, grinning when you tighten your hold around his neck. “Well, I’m yours to kiss now,” he teases, trying to walk into room without knocking into things. You leave soft kisses all over his face, prompting Hyunjin to walk faster so he could just kiss you already.
When your back hit your bed, Hyunjin stops to admire your face. “I kissed you a long time ago, don’t you remember?”
Your eyes widen. “You? Kissed me? With those plush lips? When?!”
“You don’t remember? But it was our first kiss!”
You spend the next few minutes racking your brain before nodding. “Ah, it did happen a long time ago.”
“It’s okay, maybe you wanted to forget that moment. It was your darkest time, and I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
Shaking your head, you run your thumb along his lip. “Thank you for staying with me all these years.”
Hyunjin closes the gap between you once again, hoping to chase away all the sorrow inside your soul. You pull him closer, making him practically lying on top of you, feeling your chest rise with each touch of his lips on your skin. “Thank you,” a kiss on each of your eye, “for,” a kiss on the tip of your nose, “making me,” a kiss on your lips—this time he lets it linger, “dream,” a kiss on your chin, “again,” and a kiss on your neck.
It took Hyunjin so long to understand the world, and now he still hasn’t understood even half of it. But in the middle of his journey, he met you. He learned to dream, he learned to love you.
And he learned to love himself.
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The door opens with a bang, revealing an incredibly panicked Hyunjin. He just finished training when he received a call from you, who said nothing but, “I won’t let you walk home alone.” You wouldn’t end the call throughout his way home, but refused to say anything else and almost making Hyunjin dash to the police station.
Hyunjin sees your shadow, letting out a small scream when he spots you lying on the floor in the dark. He runs to you, about to carry you back into your room when you stop him. “I feel like crying,” you rasp, choking on your saliva. “I can’t stop it.”
It’s been a month since your family left, and while you’re trying your best to be a big girl and live the way you always do, it’s not easy. Hyunjin lies beside you, eyes locked on the tears rolling down your cheeks. You never cry loudly. You never sob nor wail. You just cry silently, mostly in the dark so you can’t see yourself crying.
Hyunjin takes your hand in his, hovering over you before tracing your tears with his lips as if it can stop them. He pecks every wet spot, slowly getting to your lips. He leaves a chaste, barely-there kiss before wrapping his arms around you, whispering comforting things until you start falling asleep on the hard floor.
Hyunjin hopes you’ll allow yourself to cry however you wish to someday.
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a/n: i was so happy writing this that i almost cried when i finished because i know i’m going to miss writing this one. this story feels so sentimental, happy and sad at the same time and probably that’s why i feel so attached to it. ive wanted to write this since last year, even before “give my heart a chance”. i always wondered what would happen after we reach our dreams and i hope you’ll feel a little better after reading this (especially if you’re experiencing the same thing). this story is a long journey, but i hope you’ll enjoy it. 
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shining-red-diamond · 4 years
Text
Trick or Treat, Revenge is Sweet
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Words: 1k
Pairing: Felix x Reader
Rating: PG-13
Genre: slight angst, but mostly fluff (in a sense), mostly humor
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, vandalism, mentions of illness and bullying, and some language
A/N: This was inspired by a story time from @/HeyParis on YouTube. I also gave a name to the antagonist.
Fumed.
That’s all Y/N was feeling at that moment. Tanya had humiliated her for the last time, and in front of Felix, too. Typically, Y/N would let it go, but after crossing the line by bringing up her sick father, she nearly snapped. Felix already knew about Y/N’s situation, but he did his best to help her out. However, he thought Y/N was going to beat up, and he held her back.
“Such a good little boyfriend you are, Phillip,” Tanya scoffed.
“It’s Felix,” he huffed.
“Yeah, sure. Anyway, I’m having a Halloween party at my house tonight. Everyone on campus is invited if they wanna come, and that includes you two. But I understand if you have other priorities.”
Y/N had always gone to Tanya’s parties in attempt to make some friends, and she had mangaed to make a few, mainly because they hated going to Tanya’s parties to feel that they’ve done something wild. Tanya’s parties always started out calm, but they always ended up with someone or some people getting overly drunk and other shenanigans that happen. Y/N and her friends typically left early after the first round of shots were passed out.
However, Y/N was beginning to hatch a plan.
“There’s also gonna be a costume contest,” Tanya continued as she played with her brunette locks. “Best costume wins a hundred bucks.”
“It actually sounds like fun,” Y/N nodded. “Since I’m not in the mood to beat your ass anymore, I think I’ll come.”
Tanya looked at Y/N as if waiting for another sarcastic remark, but then smiled in a fake manner.
“Party starts at eight,” she said just before turning to walk away.
“We’re going,” Y/N confirmed as she watch the Wicked Witch strut away.
“Are you sure?” Felix asked.
She turned towards him and exhaled. “I’m not afraid of her. She can put on a ‘nice girl’ an act all she wants, but we know the truth.”
“What are you going to do? Attempt to embarrass her in front of everyone? I think she’s wear a dress to the party, so the only thing you’d do is somehow rip it with out her noticing.”
Y/N shook her head.
“What plan are you hatching?” Felix asked as he stepped forward.
“I’ll tell you when you come over to get ready for tonight.”
-
Taking one final look at herself in the mirror, Y/N felt like she could rule the world. She was dressed in a black, long-sleeve crop top, a black, plaid skirt with some silver chains on it, and she also wore a pair of black wings. Her makeup was dark, but nothing too intimidating. The thigh high boots she wore made her feel powerful.
Felix was dressed as dressed similarly but without the wings. He was dressed as a rock star with a Led Zeppelin shirt on.
His arms slid around Y/N’s waist, and he kissed her cheek. “You are stunning, my love,” he whistled.
“Is this Lee Yongbok or Kurt Cobaine?” I chuckle.
“I was going for a more Billie Joe Armstrong look,” he whined.
“Here.” Y/N grabbed some eyeliner and turned in her boyfriend’s embrace. She got to work, and in about two minutes Felix’s eyes were much more dramatic with the smudged black eyeliner.
“Perfect,” she giggled.
Felix kissed her once, careful not to smear her lipstick. When he pulled away, he asked, “Are you sure your plan will work?”
Y/N nodded. “By the time we’re done, Tanya will be too wasted to know she was set up.”
Once she grabbed two tubes of lipstick, she and Felix headed out the door and began their hike to Tanya’s house.
“You’re really going through with this, aren’t you?” Felix asked after walking two blocks.
“You’re acting like I’m gonna go full-on WWE on her,” Y/N scoffed. “I’m just going to embarrass her, and then I’m not messing with her anymore.”
“You promise?”
“Pinky swear.”
She knew it was only petty revenge, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. She wanted Tanya to have a taste of some of her own medicine. For a little while, at least, Y/N wanted some ease.
Hand in hand, the couple finally reaches Tanya’s front porch, music blaring from the inside as if they could shatter her windows at any moment. Once the approached the front door, Felix rang the doorbell, and Tanya, dressed as a sexy angel, answered almost immediately.
“So you decided to come,” she giggled before losing her balance a bit. Y/N could immediately smell the alcohol on her foe’s body. “You two have fun, but be mindful of the…um…fruity drinks. I think someone poured a little bit of Captain Morgan in it.”
Tanya hobbled away to who knows where, and Felix and Y/N entered the house. It was large and beautiful, no doubt, and Y/N sometimes wished she lived in such luxury; however, she liked her home the way it was. Lights were bouncing off the walls, the entire interior were decorated to the nines in cute Halloween decorations, and everyone there was dressed as various characters or objects.
“So do you want to start?” Felix raised his voice over the loud speakers.
“Not yet,” Y/N replied. “I’m gonna wait until ten. People will either be drunk or making out in different hiding spots.”
“Oi, Felix!” a voice from behind them called. It was his friend Chan, who was dressed up like Ghostface for the night.
“Meet me in the upstairs bathroom in an hour,” she instructed.
The two went their separate ways, and for that hour Felix had fun with his friends from his soccer team. Y/N hung out around the snack and drink area speaking to people she knew. She wasn’t one for alcohol, so she stuck with sipping on soda for the night. The party itself was wild already, the music loud enough to cause a plane crash. More guests were starting to get drunk or disappear to various parts of the house. Tanya was acting more and more giggly and childish as the hour went by.
“I’m an absolute angel,” Tanya praised herself drunkenly to her friends at one point. “I am as pure as freshly fallen snow.”
“Snow that’s been pissed on,” Y/N mumbled as she sipped on her drink, causing a few guys next to burst into laughter.
When she checked her watch, it was five minutes until she and Felix would meet upstairs. After disposing her cup, she made the ascent, putting a little swagger in her step. Her brain couldn’t register why, but she felt powerful. She turned her head to signal for Felix, but he was already trailing behind her.
The two entered the designated bathroom and turned on the lights. The wallpaper was an ugly green pinstripe, and the marble counter wasn’t helping it either. The only decent pieces were the porcelain tub and framed artwork on the walls.
“So, what’s your plan for here?” Felix asked as he closed the door.
Y/N reached into her purse and pulled out the two lipsticks she had.
“Bathroom’s a bit ugly,” she sneered as she handed Felix one of the lipstick tubes. “How about we decorate it a little?”
“Is this part of your plan?”
“No, I just thought of this last minute.”
With a smirk on her face, she and Felix both began their artwork on the bathroom walls. Felix drew and wrote whatever his heart desired, and Y/N just doodled hearts everywhere. This went on for about twenty minutes, Felix managing to stand on the toilet seat to write “Trick ‘r Treat” near the ceiling.
When they finished, they decided to do make murals in the other bathrooms in the house. This continued until both lipstick tubes were empty, and neither of them got any marks on their costumes.
“Is this where your real plan begins?” Felix asked after they disposed the lipstick tubes.
Y/N said nothing but pulled out her phone and called the nearest police department. They stayed in the current bathroom they were in and locked the door while she dialed the number, making sure she used the star-six-seven method.
After someone picked up, Y/N ignited her scheme.
“Hi, this is Jennifer Barbara,” she used a fake voice. “And my neighbors next door, and absolutely loud. I have four children under the age of six, two of them have school in morning; and my husband has work in the morning. You need to come shut this down, please. It’s ridiculous. Listen.”
She held her phone to the door, which she had opened to increase the volume of the thumping music. The woman on the other end agreed to send the police over immediately.
Knowing where they lived, it was going to take the police at least twenty-five minutes to arrive; so Y/N lead Felix back out towards the snack and drink bar. A few more people where already drunk out of their minds at that point, and the party started getting a little crazier.
“A glass of Captain Morgan,” Y/N told the bar tender, and he was happy to pour her a glass. “Thanks.”
“That’s it?” Felix asked as she took her glass.
“Follow me.”
Felix obeyed, and she led him to where the deejay was jamming out to the music he was playing. He notices the two and gives them a nod of acknowledgment before turning his attention to two other women who showed up next to him.
Felix did dance a bit as Y/N just bounced to the beat while pretending to drink her beverage. After a while, there was a banging on the door.
“Right on queue,” Y/N smirked.
Tanya’s boyfriend answered the door, and as Y/N planned, three officers were at the door. The music was still going while the boyfriend and now Tanya were arguing with the police while Billie Eilish’s “bad guy” was playing in the background.
“Party’s not over!” he announced to the rest of people there.
We’ll see about that, Y/N thought as the line “I’m the bad guy sounded.”
As soon as she was sure the deejay wasn’t looking, Y/N took a sip of her Captain Morgan and dumped it in a manner that looked accidental on the equipment. The deejay’s workspace sparked a little, but it mainly blew the speakers out. Fire wasn’t lit, but there was smoke. The party guests immediately started shouting in complaint and running around in panic.
After getting rid of the glass, Y/N and Felix quickly exited the main living room and out to the front patio. The two of them were both roaring with laughter as a few people were starting to exit the house, some of them a little too buzzed to sense what direction they were going.
After catching their breaths, they decided to head to a diner for a late night snack.
“You scare me sometimes, Y/N,” Felix commented as they walked to her house for her car. “But since it is still Halloween for another hour and a half, I’ll let it slide.”
“I’m not doing that again,” Y/N sighed. “If Tanya does figure out it was me that did all of that, then I’ll help her pay for damages.”
Y/N had grabbed the wizard’s wand in her little gamble, and she felt really good. However, she still felt a little bad for ruining someone’s party, even if it was someone she deemed as Lucifer. Her dad would want her to help out with anything.
She looked back at the scene they left. More people were leaving the property, and officers were still getting everyone to clear out. Tanya and her boyfriend were still dealing with an officer, but she had cuffs on her wrists.
Y/N couldn’t help the smirk that was coming back to her face.
“Trick or Treat, you she-devil,” she muttered victoriously.
-
Tags: @burberrylucas​ @daybreakx​ @cloudychannieee​ @barsformars​ @starsandsoul​ @hyyunjins​ @mafia-nct​
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abusybuzzingbee · 4 years
Text
Dead in the Water | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 3 Rewrite | Dean x Fem!Reader
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Major Character: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester
Warnings: Canon level violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other
Word Count: 9,161
Summary: Dean and the reader still do not get along, but they slowly begin making progress toward a healthier relationship in a town threatened by a lake-dwelling supernatural creature.
Series Rewrite Masterlist
Season 1 Masterlist
Click here for the series playlist!
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You were sat inside of a diner across from Dean, munching on the last of your fries as he circled names in an obituary. Sam had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and you and Dean refused to speak to each other unless it was to start a petty fight. 
The pretty blonde waitress returned, leaning over the table and showing off her boobs. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked Dean. 
You looked over at him as he grinned around the pen he was chewing on.
You suppressed an eye roll, addressing the waitress. “Just the check, please.”
“Okay,” she smiled at you, glancing over at Dean once more. The waitress strutted away, and Dean dropped his head down before looking over at you. 
“You know, (Y/N), we are allowed to have fun once in a while.” He pointed at the waitress as she walked into the kitchen, “That's fun.”
“You can have fun when we find your dad.” 
Dean went to say something back to you, but Sam sat down and effectively cut the conversation short.
“Hey,” he said. “What’d I miss?”
“Just your brother trying to pick up our waitress,” you stated, glaring pointedly at Dean. 
“Can it, (Y/N).” He put the newspaper in front of Sam. “Take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin.” He pointed to the obituary he had circled in the paper. “Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.”
“A funeral?” Sam questioned.
“Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure, or whatever,” the older of the two shrugged.
“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.”
Dean’s expression hardened. He squared his shoulders and leaned forward on his forearms on the table. “Something you want to say to me?”
You took a sip of your drink, eyes widening as you looked down and to the side of you, feeling pretty awkward. 
“The trail for Dad,” Sam started, “It's getting colder every day.”
Dean sighed. “Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?”
“I don't know. Something. Anything.”
“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude.” Dean’s tone was harsh as he spoke. “You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?”
“Yeah, I know you do, it's just—”
Dean cut his younger brother off. “I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?”
Sam rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he did so. 
The waitress walked past again, effectively distracting Dean from his anger toward Sam. His gaze was focused right on her ass.
You scoffed and snapped your fingers a mere inch in front of his face.
He jerked back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. “What was that for?!”
“For focusing on getting your dick wet instead of the task at hand,” you replied. 
Dean went to shoot something back at you, but Sam was quick to jump in. “Alright--” he directed his next question at Dean, “--Lake Manitoc, how far?”
***
The car rides between hunts were the only things in your life that resembled “normal.” They were an opportunity for you to get to know the boys better, even if Sam was the only one who talked to you. 
“Sam, you cannot look me in the eyes and say Clueless is a bad movie.” You crossed your arms over your chest. You were sitting behind Dean’s seat facing Sam with your right leg up on the seat to look at the boy a little better. 
“I just did. So, ha,” he quipped lightheartedly. “I mean, it’s borderline incest, (Y/N/N).”
It made you happy that Sam had given you a nickname.
“Not really. They weren’t blood-related,” you shrugged.  “Sure, the relationship’s a little weird, but it’s part of the comedy of the movie.”
“Agree to disagree,” Sam chuckled.
“Sure.”
“You ladies done with the chick flicks?” Dean questioned. 
“I guess we are now,” you retorted. “Why?”
“Because we’re here,” he informed you as the Impala pulled up in front of a lake house. 
“Oh, would ya look at that,” you commented.
You got out of the car and headed up the painted green steps leading to the house. The wooden stair boards creaked beneath your boots as you walked. Dean knocked on the door of the house and was greeted by a man that looked to be about your age standing there.
“Will Carlton?” Dean questioned the young man.
“Yeah, that's right.”
“I'm Agent Ford,” the older Winchester started. “This is Agent Hamil--” he gestured to Sam, “Agent Fisher--” he gestured to you, “We're with the US Wildlife Service.” He held his fake badge up for Will to see. “Can we ask you a couple questions? Maybe see the spot where your sister went down?”
“Sure,” Will nodded. He led you and the boys down to the edge of the water. “She was about a hundred yards out.” He pointed at a spot far out into the lake. “That's where she got dragged down.”
“And you're sure she didn't just drown?” Dean asked.
“Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer,” Will answered. “She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub.”
The older man sitting on a bench on the wooden dock that jutted out into the lake grabbed your attention. The following interrogation was just background noise to you as you studied the man’s slumped over form. 
“So no splashing? No signs of distress?” Sam piped up.
“No, that's what I'm telling you.”
“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?”
“No. Again, she was really far out there.”
“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?”
“No, never. Why? Why, what do you think's out there?”
“We'll let you know as soon as we do,” you heard Dean say. You sucked in a breath when Dean suddenly yanked on your arm to get you to follow him to the car.
“What was that for?” you hissed, ripping your arm out of his grip.
“You wanna stop creeping on the old man and focus on the case?”
“I wasn’t creeping on him,” you replied.
“Yeah? Well, then what were you doing?”
“Just... thinking,” you answered. 
“You can think when we’re not in the middle of talkin’ to a witness,” he told you.
“Are you that much of a control freak that I can’t think when I want to?” you asked incredulously. “Grow up.”
Dean opened his mouth to say something back to you, but Sam cut him off in an attempt to stop a fight from happening in front of the Carltons. “Okay, so. Can’t talk to Mr. Carlton.“
“Okay...” you trailed off, “So our best bet is the police station, then.”
***
The sheriff, whose name you found out was Jake, walked out from behind the desk in the police station’s lobby as he addressed you and the boys. “Now, I’m sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?”
“You sure it's accidental?” Sam challenged. “Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.”
Jake led you and the Winchesters into his office. “Like what?” He motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. "Here, sit, please.”
You took a seat in one of the chairs and Dean sat in the other. Sam leaned on the back of your chair as the sheriff continued to speak.
“There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake. There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”
“Yeah, Dean laughed, “Right.”
“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still--” Jake sat down behind his cluttered desk, leaning forward on it on his forearms, “We dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”
“That's weird, though,” the older Winchester noted, “I mean, that's, that's the third missing body this year.”
“I know,” Jake started, “These are people from my town. These are people I care about.”
“I know,” Dean told him.
“Anyway,” the sheriff sighed, “All this...it won't be a problem much longer.”
“What do you mean?” Dean questioned.
“Well, the dam, of course,” Jake stated as if it were obvious.
“Of course, the dam. It's, uh,” Dean stuttered awkwardly, “it sprung a leak.”
‘This dumbass,’ you thought.
“No, it’s falling apart, remember? The feds won’t give us the money to fix it, so they opened the spillway,” you told him. 
“It’s good to see somebody does their research,” the sheriff commented. “As Federal Wildlife, you should already know that.”
“Mm-hmm,” you hummed.
A few quiet knocks on the door drew your attention behind you.
A pretty brunette walked into the office. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”
You and Dean stood up, facing the young woman.
“I can come back later,” she said, turning to leave.
Jake’s voice stopped her movements as he stood up as well. “Gentlemen-- and lady-- this is my daughter.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you,” the older Winchester smirked.
‘Oh, this asshole’s making his voice deeper.’
“I'm Dean.” He shook the woman’s hand.
“Andrea Barr,” she smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“They're from the Wildlife Service,” her father interjected. “About the lake.”
“Oh.”
A little boy with shaggy, copper-colored hair walked out from behind Andrea, his head down low.
“Oh, hey there,” Dean grinned. “What's your name?”
Lucas looked up at Dean with sad eyes before turning and walking out of the room without saying a word. Andrea looked at Dean apologetically before following who you assumed was her son out of the room.
“His name is Lucas,” Jake answered for the boy. 
You watched as Andrea gave Lucas a box of crayons and ran her hand over his hair. 
“Is he okay?” Sam asked.
“My grandson's been through a lot. We all have,” the older man admitted. He went and stood by the entrance to the office, turning to face you and the boys. “Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know.” He led the three of you out of the office.
You thanked the sheriff.
Dean looked at the sheriff as he began to talk.“You know, now that you mentioned it--”
‘Oh, boy.’
He directed his attention toward Andrea, “--could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?”
“Lakefront Motel,” she told him. “Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south.”
“Two—” He pretended to be confused. “Would you mind showing us?”
Andrea laughed. “You want me to walk you two blocks?”
“Not if it's any trouble,” Dean stated, his smile bright.
‘Is he for real?’
“I'm headed that way anyway,” she shrugged. She told her father she would be back to pick up Lucas at three and told Lucas that she would take him to the park before leaving with you and the boys. 
“Thanks again,” Sam nodded at Jake as he followed Andrea out of the station. 
You and Sam stayed a few paces back from Dean and Andrea as he attempted to charm the brunette. You and Sam both wanted the pavement to swallow you whole.
“So, cute kid,” you heard Dean tell her. 
“Thanks,” she replied.
‘Short, to the point, not taking any of his crap,’ you thought. ‘I like her.’
“Kids are the best, huh?” the older Winchester tried again.
Andrea glanced back at him over her shoulder, shaking her head with a smile on her face as she continued walking.
She stopped in front of a place that said “Lakefront Motel” in bold, white letters, contrasting with the red background the words were placed upon. “There it is. Like I said, two blocks.”
Sam thanked her.
She turned to address Dean. “Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.” She walked away, calling back over her shoulder, “Enjoy your stay!”
You let the laugh you were trying to suppress burst out of your lips. “I love her!”
“‘Kids are the best'? You don't even like kids,” Sam pointed out. 
“I love kids!” his older brother argued. 
“Name three children that you even know,” Sam deadpanned.
Dean paused to think for a moment but came up empty. You waved your hands at him in a shooing motion before walking toward the motel with Sam.
“I’m thinking!” he called after the two of you.
“Have fun going to get the car, dumbass!” you called back to Dean as his younger brother chuckled.
“We seriously just walked two blocks and left the car at the fucking police station all so Dean could try to hook up with the hot mom,” you sighed, shaking your head. 
***
You and the boys had gone to your separate motel rooms to unpack once Dean had grabbed your bags--well, his and Sam’s, making you go out to the Impala to get your own. 
Sam told you that he and Dean were going to take some time to unpack and the three of you would meet up again later. You were never one for unpacking your duffel bag on hunts since you would not be staying in one location for very long. Instead, you took the downtime you had been given to do some research.
You pulled your laptop along with a few other items out of your bag before flopping down onto the flimsy mattress and kicking your combat boots off. As you blew out a puff of air, you opened your laptop to The Lake Manitoc Tribune’s browser page. You scrolled through article after article on the drownings in the town. One article, in particular, caught your attention. The headline read “Local Man in Tragic Accident” with the story of a man named Christopher Barr written below. 
‘Christopher Barr... as in Andrea Barr?’
Your question was answered when you scrolled a little way down the page to see a picture of a soaking wet and seemingly traumatized Lucas wrapped in a towel. He was standing next to a policeman who you assumed was Lucas’s grandfather. 
You read the article in full detail. It told the story of how Lucas and his father were out swimming in the lake when Christopher was pulled beneath the surface of the water. Lucas was floating on a nearby wooden platform at the time of his father’s drowning. Two hours later, Lucas was rescued. 
‘That poor thing...’
You were no stranger to witnessing the death of a parent, so you knew how hard it must have been for Lucas. You had been older than Lucas was when you witnessed the deaths of your parents, so you could only imagine how crushed you would have been had you been as young as he was. 
As far as you could tell from reading through loads of articles, Lucas was the only eyewitness to see whatever creature you were dealing with. This struck you as peculiar since there were so many accounts of other lake monster sighting, making you believe you were not dealing with something corporeal. 
You heard a knock on the door moments later, and you opened it to find Sam standing there. You invited him into your room, and the two of you sat at the small table by the window of the room to talk. 
“So,” he started, “we figured out what’s up with Lucas.”
“Yeah, I did too,” you responded. “That poor kid.”
“Yeah...” he trailed off, shaking his head. 
“Where’s Dean?”
“Back in our room. He’s still unpacking.”
“Jesus, how much shit does he carry around with him? He’s been unpacking for, like, forty-five minutes,” you scoffed.
“He’s slow,” Sam chuckled.
“Yeah, so I’ve gathered,” you retorted. “Oh, hey, since Lucas is the only eyewitness, we should probably try to talk to him. Andrea said she was gonna take him to the park at three back at the station. Should we go try to catch ‘em there?”
“‘S worth a shot,” the younger Winchester shrugged. You saw his eyes drift over to your bed where some of the contents of your duffel bag were scattered. He nodded at what you assumed was your sketchbook as he questioned, “You draw?”
“Yep,” you replied. 
“Can I see?”
“Sure,” you nodded, leaning back in your chair to grab it off your bed. You opened it to some of your most recent drawings and let him flip through them. 
“Dude, these are really good,” he complimented you. 
You thanked him with a smile. “I did one of you last week.” You showed it to him.
“Thanks,” he grinned. “This is amazing.” He looked from the drawing back up to you. “But why’d you draw me?”
“Well, I draw people I find interesting,” you shrugged. "You and that freaky head of yours are interesting.”
“Who ‘re the other people you drew?”
“Not a clue,” you answered. “Like I said, people I find interesting. Randos in bars, diners, pretty much anywhere.”
“That’s so cool,” he told you. Sam handed you the book back. 
“What about you?” you asked as you took it from him. “You have any fun hobbies? Hidden talents I should know about?”
“Not really,” he replied. “I mean, I like to read.”
“Lame,” you joked, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed. “C’mon, there’s gotta be something more fun than that.”
“Well, I liked going to the gym at Stanford and going on runs.”
“Oh, so you’re a health nut,” you chuckled.
“I guess so, yeah,” Sam laughed. 
Your conversation was cut short by a knock on the door. 
“You girls done in there?” Dean called through the door. 
“I guess we are now,” you remarked. 
Sam got up and let his brother into the room as you glanced at the clock on your bedside table that read “3:15.” 
“We should probably head over to the park now,” you told the boys.
“Park? Why?” Dean inquired.
“Andrea said she was bringing Lucas there at three. He’s the only eyewitness we got, so we should probably try to talk to him,” you informed him.
“Alright, let’s go.”
***
Conveniently enough for you and the Winchesters, there was only one park in Lake Manitoc since it was such a small town. You noticed Andrea sitting on a bench on the outskirts of the small field near the playground watching over here son. He was sat on the ground by another bench a little ways off from Andrea, using the bench as a table for him to color on. Lucas had crayons, paper, and what appeared to be green army men scattered on the bench. 
“Can we join you?” Sam asked Andrea once you three had gotten up next to her bench. 
The brunette looked up at you three, smiling as she stated, “I'm here with my son.” 
“Oh,” the older Winchester started, “Mind if I say hi?” Without waiting for her answer, he went over to Lucas. 
Andrea addressed you and Sam as the two of you sat on the bench next to her. “Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not gonna work on me.”
“I don't think that's what this is about,” Sam told her.
You watched as Dean knelt next to the young boy while Andrea and Sam talked about Christopher’s drowning. Lucas paid Dean no mind, continuing to color as Dean played with the army men on the bench briefly. He spoke a little more before grabbing a piece of paper and sitting on the bench. Dean showed off whatever he had drawn to Lucas before putting the drawing down when Lucas was unresponsive and decided to say something else to the young boy. Moments later, the older Winchester walked back over to you, Andrea, and Sam.  Andrea was saying something about how Lucas had not spoken since his father’s death as Dean reached your group. 
“Yeah, we heard. Sorry,” Sam told her. “What are the doctors saying?”
“That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress,” she explained. 
“That can't be easy. For either of you.”
“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw...” she trailed off and shook her head. 
There was a short silence broken by Dean. “Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.”
You noticed Lucas get up from his seat by the bench out of the corner of your eye and make his way over to your group with a piece of construction paper in hand.
“You know,” Andrea began, “he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—” she was caught by surprise to see Lucas suddenly next to her. “Oh, hey, sweetheart.”
Lucas ignored his mom and looked up at Dean. He handed the man the picture. 
“Thanks,” Dean nodded, looking the drawing over. “Thanks, Lucas.”
You caught a glimpse of the paper, recognizing the house in it but unable to place where you had seen it. 
“We’ll see you around,” Sam told Andrea as you and the Winchesters turned away from the Barrs.
You studied Dean as he looked over the picture. In your mind, he was still a dick but had made the child feel comfortable enough to communicate by some means with him.
“What are you looking at?” Dean interrogated you gruffly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.
‘And he’s back to being a dick.’ 
***
You slept pretty well that night but woke up groggy and in deep need of coffee. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and got up from your bed, moving over to your duffel bag. You grabbed a clean black shirt from your bag along with a pair of jeans and socks. You tucked the oversized shirt into your jeans and tugged on your combat boots. After finishing your morning routine, you headed out of the door. You figured it was late enough that the boys should be up, and knocked on the door to their room. Sam opened it a few seconds later. 
“I want coffee,” you stated dryly, feeling a bit like a zombie in your decaffeinated state. 
“Me too,” he answered. “You want anything, Dean?”
The older brother grunted in response from somewhere within the room.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
After grabbing the Impala’s keys, you and Sam headed over to the car.
“Is he always that cheery in the mornings?” you asked referring to Dean.
“Yeah, he’s a joy to be around when he first wakes up,” Sam responded sarcastically. The two of you got into the car and Sam began to drive away from the motel.
“Ooh, I saw a cute little coffee shop over that way.” You pointed out of the passenger’s side window. 
Sam followed your instructions, and soon the two of you were off for a drive in the neighborhood around the lake with coffees in hand. 
You straightened up in your seat when you saw an ambulance in front of the Carlton house. “Pull over.”
Sam did as told, and the two of you hopped out of the car. There were several other onlookers standing near the house. 
“What happened?” you asked one of the older women nearby.
“Oh, the young man who lived here, Will Carlton,” she began, putting a hand on her chest, “he died last night.”
“What?” Sam asked incredulously.
“The poor thing drowned.”
“How?” You gave the woman a quizzical look. 
“I don’t really understand it myself,” she laughed uncomfortably, “he drowned in the sink. His father didn’t find him till this morning.”
“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath. 
“Poor Bill,” the older woman sighed, looking at the house. “First his godson in May, then his daughter, and now Will.”
“His godson?” Sam questioned.
“Christopher Barr.”
You looked up at Sam, who looked down at you with a confused expression that mirrored your own.
You said your goodbyes to the older woman and headed back to the car. 
“This just gets weirder all the time,” Sam commented as he drove the two of you away from the scene. 
“At least now we know there’s a connection to Bill Carlton,” you reminded him.
“But what did he do to deserve this?”
“Hell if I know.”
***
You and Sam filled Dean in on the situation as soon as you walked into the boys’ shared motel room.
“What the hell? So you're right,” Dean said, talking to Sam, “this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.” 
“Yeah, but what?” you asked. 
“I don't know,” he told you in an annoyed tone as if you had asked a stupid question. “Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water...” he trailed off. He straightened up and his eyes grew wider as he came to a realization. “Water that comes from the same source.”
“The lake.”
“Yeah.”
“Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time,” you added.
“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere.” Dean got up from the bed as he spoke, his stress level seeming to rise slightly. “This is gonna happen again soon.” He sat down on one of the chairs at the table near the window. 
“And we do know one other thing for sure. We know this has got something to do with Bill Carlton,” Sam mentioned. 
“Yeah, it took both his kids,” the older Winchester acknowledged.
“And this lady at the Carlton house said that Chris was Bill’s godson,” you explained. 
Dean looked up at you and Sam. “Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”
***
Your attempted questioning of Mr. Carlton had gone unsuccessfully. 
“My children are gone. It's...it's worse than dying. Go away. Please,” the older man dismissed you. Through the duration of his visit, he refused to look up from the boards of the wooden dock. His posture had been slumped over, and his facial expression remained solemn. 
“We’re sorry,” you told him before you followed the boys back to the car. 
“What do you think?” Sam asked.
“Aw, I think the poor guy's been through hell,” Dean replied. “I also think he's not telling us something.”
“So now what?” the younger brother inquired, leaning on the roof of the car.
“Huh,” you let out. 
“What?” Sam asked. 
“You got Lucas’s drawing on you by any chance?” you asked Dean. 
He looked at you questioningly but pulled it out of his jacket pocket nonetheless. 
You unfolded the paper and held it up next to the Carlton house. Lucas had drawn Bill’s house on the paper, which is why the drawing looked familiar to you. 
“Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something,” Dean commented. 
***
You and the boys were just inside the door of the Barr household, trying to get Andrea to let Dean talk to Lucas.
“I'm sorry,” Andrea expressed, “but I don't think it's a good idea.”
“I just need to talk to him. Just for a few minutes,” Dean pleaded.
“He won't say anything. What good's it gonna do?” 
“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there,” Sam explained. 
“My husband, the others, they just drowned. That's all.” 
You could tell Andrea did not really think that. 
“If that's what you really believe, then we'll go. But if you think there's even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to your son,” Dean tried one last time.
Andrea gave in, showing you and the boys down the hall to Lucas’s room. Your group found Lucas sitting on the floor surrounded by drawings and army men. He was coloring another picture. 
Dean walked into the room and crouched down beside the boy’s setup. “You know, I, uh, I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again.”
You looked over at what Lucas was drawing. It was a person in the water. You quirked an eyebrow at it as Dean placed the picture of the Carlton house in front of Lucas.
“How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me,” Dean offered. 
Lucas ignored him.
“You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.”
That seemingly touched something within Lucas, who dropped the crayon and looked up at the older Winchester. 
You heard Andrea suck in a breath as Lucas handed Dean a picture of a white church, a yellow two-story house, and a little boy with a red bicycle. 
“Thanks, Lucas,” Dean said quietly.
***
“Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died,” Dean brought up as he drove along the highway. The three of you were attempting to find the place Lucas had drawn. 
“There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies,” Sam explained.
“Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please,” Dean remarked.
You leaned forward on your elbows on the back of the leather front seat. “All right, we got another house to find.” 
“The only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone,” Dean brought up, his tone once again implying what he thought you were suggesting was stupid.
Sam looked at the picture, which he held in his hand. “See this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here.”
“Oh, College Boy thinks he's so smart,” the older brother mocked. SAM
“You know, um...” Sam started. “What you said about Mom...You never told me that before.”
“It's no big deal,” Dean shrugged. 
Sam looked at him with his signature puppy dog eyes expression.
“Oh God,” the older Winchester groaned. “We're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?” 
***
You and the boys walked up to the yellow house that matched the one in the drawing. The house just so happened to be across the street from a church just like Lucas had drawn. 
You were greeted at the door by a petite old woman. “Hello,” she smiled.
“Hi,” you grinned back. “I’m (Y/N), this is Sam and Dean--” you gestured between the two boys, “--we just have a question for you.”
“Come in, come in.” Her friendly disposition was incredibly welcoming as she allowed you and the Winchesters into her home.
“We're sorry to bother you, ma'am,” Dean began, “but does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.”
The woman’s formerly cheery disposition suddenly shifted to solemn. “No sir. Not for a very long time.” She looked over at a picture of a smiling little boy on a table in the living room. “Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now.” She turned back to you and the boys. “The police never—I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.” The woman’s voice wavered as she spoke.
Your eyebrows turned upwards out of sympathy for her. 
Sam nudged your elbow and pointed out toy soldiers sitting on one of the side tables. 
“Losing him—you know, it's...it's worse than dying.” The woman echoed Bill Carlton’s earlier statement. 
“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” the older Winchester question. 
“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up,” the woman whimpered. 
Dean picked up a picture off of a mirror in the room. It was of two little boys in boy scout uniforms, one of them being Peter with his red bicycle. “Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, nineteen seventy,” Dean read from the back of the photo. 
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sam stated softly. “We’ll just be going now. Thank you for your time.” He and his brother turned to head out of the door.
The woman turned away, her sniffles tugging on your heartstrings as you went to follow the boys. 
“Mrs. Sweeney?” 
She turned to you, as did the boys, who watched from the door. 
“Can I give you a hug?”
She seemed surprised by your question but accepted your offer nonetheless. As soon as you wrapped your arms around her, she broke down into sobs.
“I’m so sorry about Peter,” you whispered to her. 
She nodded into your shoulder as a response. 
After another moment, you released her and rubbed up and down her arms. “It’ll be okay.”
She nodded once more. 
You and the boys showed yourselves out. None of you said a word until about halfway through the drive.
Sam was the one to break the silence. “Okay, this little boy Peter Sweeney vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow.”
“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” Dean mentioned.
“And Bill, the people he loves, they're all getting punished.”
“So what if Bill did something to Peter?”
“What if Bill killed him?”
“Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge. It's possible.” Dean’s eyes flickered to yours in the rearview mirror. “This is probably the quietest I’ve heard you since I met you, (Y/N). Wanna share what you’re thinkin’ about with the class?”
“Like you give a shit.” 
“I was trying to, but fine, keep being a bitch.”
You could not believe Dean. “What, you treat me like I’m stupid, act like a dick to me for weeks, and suddenly I’m supposed to believe you’re genuinely concerned?” 
“Forget I asked.”
***
The Impala pulled in front of the Carlton house, and to your surprise, you had not seen Bill sitting on the dock. You and the Winchesters got out of the car, calling out to Mr. Carlton.
You wheeled around when you heard the roar of what sounded like a boat engine. 
“Guys?” you called to the boys behind you when you saw Bill driving his boat out into the lake. 
You immediately broke out into a sprint, yelling for the man to turn his boat around. 
Bill turned his head to look at you three standing at the edge of the dock but continued driving out. As soon as he turned his head back around, the water beneath the boat sprang up as if a bomb had been blown up beneath the surface. Bill’s boat flipped over into the water, and neither Bill nor the boat ever resurfaced.
You and the boys called Jake to the scene of Bill Carlton’s disappearance. Neighbors gathered around the lake, looking for signs of Bill, the boat, or whatever had taken him down. After Jake found nothing and questioned the neighbors who witnessed what had happened, he asked you and the Winchesters to head back to the station with him. 
Once inside the station, you spotted Andrea and Lucas sitting behind the desk in the police station’s lobby. 
When the young woman saw you, she bounced up and put the bag that was in her hands on the seat behind her. “Sam, Dean, (Y/N), I didn’t expect to see you here. 
Jake looked between your group and Andrea. “So now you're on a first-name basis,” he scoffed. “What are you doing here?” He directed the question to his daughter.
“I brought you dinner,” she explained. 
“I'm sorry, sweetheart, I don't really have the time.” He shook his head and moved past her to head into his office, you and the boys hot on his tail.
The sound of Andrea’s voice made all four of you stop and turn around. 
“I heard about Bill Carlton. Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?”
“Right now we don't know what the truth is,” Jake relayed. “But I think it might be better if you and Lucas went on home.”
As soon as the older man mentioned Lucas going home, the little boy jumped up with a panicked look on his face. He whined and tugged on Dean’s arm as Andrea and Lucas tried to comfort him. 
Andrea managed to get her son off of Dean and pull him out of the office. You watched the pair as they left, and noticed Lucas’s eyes never left Dean.
The sheriff threw his jacket onto a chair and scrubbed a hand through his hair as he walked into the office.
You looked at Sam and the two of you supposed you were to follow Jake.
You sat in one chair, Dean sat in the other, and Sam leaned on the back of your chair just as had happened before. 
The older man leaned on the front of his desk in front of your trio. “Okay, just so I'm clear, you see,” Jake trailed off, recovering a moment later, “something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the drink, and you never see him again?”
“Yep, that about sums it up,” you replied.
“And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible? And you're not really Wildlife Service?” Jake casually mentioned.
You managed to keep a poker face on, but apparently, Dean gave you away.
“That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you three.”
“See, now, we can explain that--” Dean started, but was immediately cut off by the officer. 
“Enough. Please. The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again.” Jake jutted his finger in your face as he spoke, his tone harsh.
“Door number two is... rather appealing.” You were trying to keep up your plucky attitude despite your circumstance.
“That's the one I'd pick,” he said sharply. 
***
You had your head against the window, legs tossed to the side of you as the hum of the Impala’s engine was slowly lulling you to sleep.
Sam’s voice pulled you out of your haze. “Green.”
“What?” Dean asked. Apparently, he had been in a daze, too.
‘Not good considering this asshole’s the one driving.’
“Light's green,” Sam elaborated. 
Dean turned right.
“Uh, the interstate's the other way,” you yawned, 
“I know.”
“Okay--” you dragged out the word, “--so why are you heading back to Lake Manitoc?”
“Cause I think we still got more work to do,” he responded.
“But Dean, this job, I think it’s over,” Sam interjected.
“I'm not so sure,” Dean replied shortly. 
Sam gave his brother more pushback. “If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest.”
“All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt?” Dean argued.
“But why would you think that?” 
“Because Lucas was really scared.”
The younger Winchester was caught by surprise. “That's what this is about?” 
You were caught by surprise, too, but for a different reason. Once again, the scents of coconut and tobacco filled the air.
“I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay.” Dean tried to play off his concern nonchalantly, but you could see right through the bullshit act.
“Y’know, I’m actually with Dean on this one,” you declared. 
Dean quirked a brow at you in the rearview mirror, but you simply shrugged at him.
“Who are you two? And what have you done with (Y/N) and Dean?” Sam quipped sarcastically, glancing between you and his brother with a confused expression.
There was a slight pause before both you and Dean said in unison, “Shut up.”
***
“Are you sure about this?” Sam looked around as you and the Winchesters stood on the front porch of the Barr house. “It's pretty late, man.”
Dean ignored him, ringing the doorbell. Immediately it opened to reveal a panicked Lucas.
“Lucas? Lucas!” Dean called after the boy as he took off into the house. 
You followed behind Dean as all four of you sprinted through the house. You heard a splash beneath your feet and realized water was pouring down the stairs in front of you. Lucas started to pound on the door that led to where the water was coming from, which you assumed was a bathroom. 
Dean pulled Lucas out of the way just before you gave a powerful kick to the door, effectively knocking it in. 
Inside the bathroom, the tub was filled to the brim with murky, brown water. You jumped out of the way to let Sam try to pull Andrea out of there, knowing he would be a better fit for the job than you were. 
Sam eventually managed to pull her out of the bathtub. They landed with Sam on his back and Andrea on top of him, sobbing and coughing up water. You immediately offered the woman a towel you had found and wrapped her in it.
Lucas threw Dean off of him and immediately wrapped his arms around his mom. 
Happy to see that she was okay, you and the boys let Andrea have some privacy to get dressed. After she had done that, she and Sam went into the living room to talk while you and Dean looked for a connection to Peter Sweeney. 
You found a bookshelf full of photo albums and began giving the labels a quick once-over. You found one with “Jake-- 12 years old” scrawled across the white label of the brown cover. You flipped to a page with pictures of the same Boy Scout troop that Peter Sweeney seemed to have been in from that picture you saw at the Sweeney house. You shut the book on your finger, holding your spot in the photo album.
“Whatcha got?” Dean asked.
“You’ll see.” You walked past him back into the living room. You opened the photo album to the page your finger was tabbing, putting the book in front of Andrea on the coffee table. “You recognize the kids in these pictures?”
She seemed caught off-guard, and you felt bad for potentially startling her after the night she had had. 
“What? Um, no.” She took a pause. “I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures.” The brunette dragged her finger across the page gesturing to her dad as a young boy. Jake was standing next to who you recognized as Peter Sweeney in several of the pictures.
“Chris Barr's drowning,” Dean spoke up. “The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff.”
“Bill and the sheriff,” the younger man corrected his brother, “they were both involved with Peter.”
“What about Chris? My dad—what are you talking about?” Andrea was looking at the three of you like you were crazy.
“Lucas?” Dean’s voice brought your attention to the little boy staring out of the window. “Lucas, what is it?”
Lucas kept his gaze focused outside as he walked out of the door. Andrea continued to call after Lucas as you all followed him outside. Lucas stopped and looked at the ground and then up at the older Winchester, who stood beside him.
Dean faced Andrea. “You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?”
Andrea did as told, pulling her son away from your trio.��
“You guys still have those shovels in the trunk?”
***
“Keep workin’ hard over there, sweetheart,” Dean deadpanned. 
You pushed yourself off of the tree you were leaning against. “Dude, you only had two shovels and you were too busy being macho and dig whatever’s down there up yourself to let me use one of them,” you protested. “So don’t tell me shit about ‘working hard.’ But by all means--” you then started to use a mocking baby voice, “--if Dean is getting a wittle too sweaty, I’d be happy to take his pwace.”
“Nope. I got it.”
“So hush your mouth.”
He glared back at you and plunged his shovel back into the dirt when the metal part of the shovel hit another piece of metal. You and Dean both looked down at what laid beneath the ground and you helped the boys pull the object out of the dirt. 
“Peter’s bike,” Sam remarked.
You heard a gun cock behind Sam and Dean. “Who are you?” 
You looked up to find Jake standing there and pointing a gun at the three of you.
The boys slowly turned around.
“Put the gun down, Jake,” Sam pleaded. 
Both he and Dean dropped their shovels. 
“How did you know that was there?” The sheriff demanded.
The older Winchester did not answer his question. “What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake, and then buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”
“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.” The sheriff’s lie was not even in the ballpark of convincing.
“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago. That's what the hell I'm talking about.”
“Dad!” Andrea yelled, running up on the altercation.
“And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit,” Dean continued, keeping his eyes trained on Jake. 
“Peter’s gonna get everyone you love--Lucas, Andrea-- and drag their bodies god knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter’s mom felt. And then it’s gonna take you. It won’t stop until it does,” you informed him.
Jake looked at you as if you were stupid. “Yeah, and how do you know that?”
“Because that's exactly what it did to Bill Carlton,” you told the older man.
“Listen to yourselves, all of you. You're insane!” he chided. 
Dean scoffed. “I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us. But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake.” 
“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea interrupted, her voice shaking.
“No,” her father lied. “Don't listen to them. They're liars and they're dangerous.”
The brunette wasn’t having it. “Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me.”
He did.
“Tell me you—you didn't kill anyone.”
Jake looked away from his daughter, unable to form a response. The guilt was too much to bear.
“Oh my God,” Andrea breathed.
“Billy and I were at the lake,” Jake started to explain. “Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.” 
‘Great,’ you thought. ‘Makes our job so much easier.’
“Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational.”
Dean was done with Jake’s skeptical attitude. “All right, listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now.”
Andrea turned her head and immediately cried, “Lucas!”
You turned your head in the direction she was looking to see the little boy leaning over the side of the lake reaching for something.
You took off, following close behind Jake as you ran. You spotted Lucas get pulled into the water by something, causing you to cry out his name. 
You ran off the solid ground onto the dock, leaping into the water once you reached the edge of the platform.
You dove deep into the lake, trying your best to make out the shape of Lucas or the spirit of Peter. You went back up to the surface, taking in a deep breath. 
You looked over to Andrea on the dock, and she stared back at you with a panicked expression. You shook your head, diving back below the surface.
While you did not see Lucas, you did see a boy with skin a pale gray and tattered clothing rising to the surface. You flinched back, the appearance of Peter’s spirit catching you off-guard. It grabbed Jake, who you just noticed had gone into the water and began pulling him under.
You sprang into action, swimming as fast as you could over to where Jake was being pulled down. You reached your hand down, trying to grab him, but. it was too late. You were running out of air, and because the water below was getting blacker as you went deeper, you could not see Jake anymore.
You clawed your way back to the surface, gasping for air when you came up. 
Andrea looked to you frantically, and you shook your head once more.
She screamed “No!” just before splashing coming from behind you on the right caught your attention. You looked behind you to see Dean holding an unconscious Lucas to his chest. The poor little boy’s head was lying on Dean’s shoulder limply, and you and Sam swam to help him. Sam took Lucas ashore, and you checked him over to see if he would need CPR. Once you determined that he would, you immediately set to work.
You were able to revive him with two cycles of rescue breaths and chest compressions. He immediately coughed up water as air filled his lungs once more.
You got out of Andrea’s way and let her hug her son. 
The scene before you-- Andrea on her knees, crying and hugging her rescued son-- was the reason why you did what you did. Seeing families reunited and given a temporary happy ending was what made you love hunting, despite how gruesome the job could get at times. 
You figured that even though your life was so screwed to hell, at least you could save the lives of others.
***
Once you and the boys had changed clothes, dried off, and packed up, you began loading your stuff into the car. 
Dean clearly had something on his mind, and you were not the only one to notice.
“Look, we're not gonna save everybody,” Sam reminded his brother, having figured out what Dean was mulling over.
“I know."
“Sam, Dean, (Y/N),” you heard Andrea call. 
You looked up to see the young woman walking toward you with Lucas, who carried a tray of food wrapped in cellophane.
You all walked toward each other, stopping once you had met in the middle. 
“We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road,” Andrea smiled. “Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.”
“Can I give it to them now?” Lucas asked his mom.
The sound of his voice made you smile. 
“Of course.” The young woman kissed her son’s head. 
“Come on, Lucas, let's load this into the car.” Dena led Lucas over to the car, and you stayed with Sam to talk to Andrea.
“How you holding up?” the younger Winchester asked her.
“It's just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?”
“Andrea, I'm sorry,” Sam sighed.
Andrea shook her head. “You saved my son. I can't ask for more than that. Dad loved me. He loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that.”
You heard Dean talking to Lucas from behind you, and you turned around to face them as Dean spoke. “All right, if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.”
“Zeppelin rules!”
“That's right. Up high.”
The two boys high-fived as you, Sam, and Andrea began walking over to them.
“You take care of your mom, okay?” Dean told Lucas.
“All right.”
Andrea leaned over the open door of the Impala that Dean stood behind and pressed her lips to his.
“Thank you,” she said to him.
You rolled your eyes, pissed at him for his ability to pick up whoever he wanted. 
He scratched his head, walking around to the other side of the car. “Sam, (Y/N), move your asses. We're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.”
You got into the seat behind Dean, waving to Andrea and Lucas who were waving back at you as Dean backed the Impala out of its parking spot.
Once you were on the road, you spoke up over the music. “Y’know, I’m not dissin’ on Zeppelin because I love them, but there were so many other amazing bands that ‘rule’ that you could’ve told Lucas about.”
Dean groaned. “Really? You’re picking a fight with me about that?”
“I’m not picking a fight, I’m giving my honest opinion,” you replied.
“Okay, well, who would you ‘ve told Lucas about?” he questioned.
“Um, how ‘bout Fleetwood Mac, The Beatles, Queen, need I go on?”
“I cannot believe you just said Fleetwood Mac is better than Zeppelin,” he stated incredulously.
“It’s fucking Stevie Nicks, dude, of course Fleetwood’s better than Zeppelin,” you argued. “She’s a goddess.”
Dean turned left onto the Insterstate, picking up the Impala’s speed. “Robert Plant’s better.”
“Yeah, no,” you responded dryly. 
Instead of responding verbally, Dean put one of his Led Zeppelin tapes into the cassette player and cranked the volume up. “What’d you say? Can’t hear you over the greatest band of all time!”
For the first time since you met him, you laughed at Dean’s antics. “You are such an idiot!” 
Tags are open and feedback is always appreciated!
Series Rewrite Tags:
@rach5ive​ @ppeachygemss​
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zwritestuff · 4 years
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i would love a crumb of 45C and monet x monique if possible 👀💖
this prompt got a little out of hand because i’ve been dying to write momo for some time now! hope you like it ❤🤠 (psa, the song mentioned at the end is Body Talks by The Struts.)
45. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of agreeing with you.” / C. Fake Dating
Monét loves her job. Really; she worked her ass off during college to get good grades and took a thousand internships for the extra credits, even if she didn’t need them. And working at the Couleé Law Firm is a dream, truly.
The only bad thing about her job is Bethany.
Bethany is a pain in the ass that never ceases, and she’s painfully un-aware of it; Monét has lost count of the times she’s come up with the dumbest excuses to not join her and the rest of her co-workers for drinks after work every other Friday. She just really doesn’t want to be near that woman more than needed, otherwise she’d inevitably lash out at her.
And boy does Monét hold some grudges against Bethany — always eating the snacks she leaves on the fridge is one of the many petty reasons she dislikes her.
Another Friday has arrived and Monét overhears a conversation going on outside her office. She rolls her eyes when she notices it’s Bethany, yet again, spreading around the invitation for drinks at Boro.
She panics when she notices this time she doesn’t have an excuse to go, and when Bethany knocks on her door, she lets out a fuck before telling her to come in.
She has that ditzy smile plastered across her face and Monét swears the drawl in her voice is giving her a headache.
Before Bethany can ask her if she wants to join them, Monét babbles the first thing that comes to her mind.
“I can’t, I’m going out with my girlfriend.” Bethany looks surprised and shuts her mouth for once. Monét is pleased with herself until she notices what she said.
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” She doesn’t.
Bethany puts her ditzy smile back on her face and shrugs. “Oh well, have a good night with your girlfriend!” Before Monét can say anything, she leaves her office and shuts the door behind her with a thud. A muffled sorry comes from behind it.
Monét is baffled that it worked, but she can’t bring herself to care at that moment, so she goes on with her paperwork and quickly forgets about it.
*
So here’s the thing; Monét might’ve forgotten about her little white lie, but Bethany sure hasn’t. She asks her daily about how’s her girlfriend doing and the invitations to the bar are preceded with a “if you’re not going out with your girlfriend.”
The lie goes on for about a little over than two months, until their boss’ birthday arrives and she’s throwing an office party — and much for Monét’s annoyance, their partners are also invited in case they want to come.
Bethany immediately insists that she has to bring her girlfriend, because she’s been dying to know her, “You two spend so much time together! It’s so cute how you sacrifice drinks with your friends to see her,” she says to her when Monét inquires why she’s so excited. Bethany also adds that she wishes her husband would do that for her and Monét feels a little bit of pity for her for the first time.
But the thing is that she still hasn’t got a girlfriend, and she’s not even going out with anyone. So she resorts to asking her friends one by one to pretend to be her girlfriend just for the party.
Blair says she can’t because her boyfriend’s uncle works at the same law firm, Mayhem has her own mother’s birthday party that same day, Vixen flat out says no and Asia just laughs at her for having lied about having a girlfriend just to get Bethany off her back.
Her last hope is Monique, who has yet to answer her damn phone.
“The fuck do you want this early?” Monique asks once she picks up, the annoyance in her tone palpable. Monét checks the time.
“Bitch, it’s lunch time,” she points out and there’s a groan on the other side of the line.
“Shit, already? I swear I just got back from the bar,” she complains and Monét can hear noises on her end. “Anyway, did you want something?”
Monét breathes in deeply before she speaks, “Yeah, I think Asia must’ve told you that—”
“—you lied about having a girlfriend?” Monique completes the sentence for her, barely holding back a laugh. “You bet she did, bitch, you were the butt of the joke all night long.”
Monét rolled her eyes. She loved Asia, but she could be a little bitch sometimes, despite being the mom friend. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs.
“Yeah, that. Do you wanna help a bitch out and pretend to be my girlfriend?” She goes straight to the point, and things are silent on Monique’s end for what feels like an eternity.
“What’s in it for me?” She nonchalantly asks, and Monét can see the cheeky smile painted across her face; she knows Monique like the back of her hand.
“I’m buying you all the drinks you want next time we go out, which will probably be two, ‘cause we all know you can’t take more than that before getting messy,” Monét teases her, and Monique gasps offended.
“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of agreeing with you,” she says with that solemn tone she always uses when she’s offended. Monét can’t help but laugh. “But you have a deal. When’s this party and who do I have to out-dress?”
Monét chuckles before giving her the details. She can already tell this party is going to be something.
*
It takes Monique about a minute to win over Shea Couleé.
Monét would say she’s surprised, but she isn’t, not really; Monique is the most out-going, quick witted person she knows, so when she has Shea Couleé herself rolling over with laughter, Monét doesn’t find it the least bit weird.
And of course, since she gained the boss herself, no wonder her co-workers take a shine to her almost immediately — especially Bethany, who tells Monét that her girlfriend is lovely and very much welcome to hang out with them for drinks on Fridays.
Upon hearing this, Monique just wiggles her brows at her fake girlfriend and Monét rolls her eyes. If only she knew.
“That Bethany girl isn’t half as bad as you said,” Monique comments, stuffing her mouth with mini-sandwiches. There’s a slow song playing and everyone is dancing with their partner, but they’re staying by the snacks table, because they both agree that free food is the best part of parties.
Besides, the song is way too cheesy and not their style, at all.
“You say that because you don’t work with her,” Monét replies with an eye roll, taking a sip from her glass of wine. “Try not to choke her when she passively aggressively fights to get a case you want. I can’t even recall the amount of times I gave in because I just wanted her to stop talking.” Monique laughs despite having her mouth full and she consequently makes Monét laugh — she looks way too cute and goofy to resist it.
“Have you ever tried to, like, tell her how much of a pain in the ass she is?” She wonders with a casual tone, inspecting the snack trays she hasn’t tried yet. “’Cause, you’d think you’d be able to talk things out, being the best lawyer around and all.” She picks up one weird looking snack and gives it a bite, only to scrunch up her face and leave it where she found it. Monét merely laughs, though her heart skips a beat when Monique calls her the best lawyer around.
“Girl, it’s not that easy, she’d cry and pitch a fight about it, and I really don’t have time to deal with that.” She dismisses it with a wave of her hand and Monique looks thoughtful for a moment, probably trying to decide what she’s going to try out next.
“Y’know, even if she’s annoying and shit, I wouldn’t be here stuffing my face with this fancy food if it wasn’t for her, so.” She shrugs and Monét has to admit she’s right.
Suddenly, the slow song changes to a more upbeat one, and Monique pulls her gaze to meet Monét’s when they recognize which song is this.
“My body is talking, and it says you and I have to get our asses on the dance floor.” Monique doesn’t wait for an answer before she drags Monét to the dance floor, though she’s not complaining.
They twirl and spin, move their hips and dance together hand in hand, even if Monét feels a bit self-aware of the fact her co-workers are staring at them. But with Monique, being the wild, free spirit she is it takes her a second to shrug it off and go wild, matching Monique.
When the night is over, Monét wishes they could repeat it and do it all over again. And maybe Monique can read minds, because she asks her out to their favorite bar next weekend, saying it totally doesn’t have to do with their deal.
She drops Monique off and when she gives her a kiss on the cheek as they say goodbye, Monét musters a fuck as her heart skips several beats.
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monochromemedic · 3 years
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The amount it took me to write this while my mind was blanking is astonishing.  So take this shit story.
Ever since a strange accident involving the Black Dragon, an artifact called the Shatter Dagger and me; I’ve been shoved into the hell that was the world of kombat. I’ve been training with Earthrealm forces, trying to save my world from all sorts of bullshit I couldn’t imagine in my wildest dreams. Not to mention my own personal struggles dealing with the fact that if I wanted too I could create that Omen scene with the glass pane at anytime on anyone. Sure it was cool but it hasn’t been exactly easy to say the least. Hell, It’s been down right torturous at times. But even then I’ve manage to crawl out of bed every day, work my ass off with people 10 times more talented and experienced then me, and go back to sleep just to do the same thing in the morning. I mean that weird dagger chose me to be a warrior for some reason... so either that thing was wrong and the placebo effect is real  or there really is something more to me then a shy, chubby idiot that can barely talk to a cashier. Not like I could go back to normal life now, my life was different. I was sought after for what was in me, what I could do. If I didn’t learn to fight, everyone I knew and loved would be killed at the hands of anyone that wanted to get what was inside of me. And there happened was a lot of those as of late. But I had to admit, even through all the weird shit that i’d been through, I didn’t expect being at the filming of a new movie to be a ‘strategic move’. I mean that’s what Sonya called it, but I think she just wanted someone to look after Johnny while he was away. Not that anyone would go after him but, it never hurt to be cautious now adays. Outworld was getting bolder, looking for openings to take down the people they saw as threats and weirdly enough, Johnny was one of them. Just one at the bottom of the list. A low priority target. So why not send a low priority person just incase shit hit the fan. Hell if something did happen back at home, two people that weren’t much of a threat in the enemies eyes wouldn’t be a total lost. They still had hard hitters to protect what was important. I would’ve been more heartbroken knowing I was basically a crisp 5 bucks on Outworld’s most wanted list, but I was 20 feet away from like 4 major celebrities, and sitting in one of those fancy actor chairs with Johnny’s name stitched in it. I wasn’t too torn. “Excuse me, miss. Who are you?” One of the runner’s asked, a nervous look on his face. “People don’t seem to recognize you, and I just want to make sure you’re suppose to be here.” I paused, panic beginning to rise in me before remembering what Johnny told me to say. “I’m Mr. Cage’s plus one.” I dug in one of my pockets and pulled out a belt buckle with Johnny’s last name on it. “He said this should be proof enough.” “Ah... yeah.” He took a pause, observing the very gaudy engraved buckle, “ I’ll inform security then. They were getting a bit antsy.” The runner stumbled off without another word towards a large, menacing man blocking a door, whispering something to him before being called elsewhere on set. The large security man rolled his neck and nodded towards my direction, picking up his walkie-talkie to talk to presumably, the other security members. I turned back around, sinking into the rather uncomfortable chair. So glad to know that I was just mere inches away from being beaten to death by security and the only thing that made them stop was some belt buckle worth more then my life. “How’s my favorite Glass Slipper handling Hollywood?” A familiar voice rang out from the dark corner of the set. I turned my head and watched as a rather oiled up, shirtless Cage bounded over, a half drunken cup of iced coffee in hand. “Did you show them the belt?” “Yeah they were 2 minutes away from throwing me out so... “ I paused, staring at his chest for a few seconds. “You... look like someone dipped you in a fast food grease trap.” “Yeah, the audience goes crazy for oiled up guys. When the lights hit your body and the camera catches the glare just right? Cinema gold baby. You don’t wanna know how many fancams are just me drenched in baby oil and fake blood.” He gave a flex of his bicep before grinning wide. “Hell you seem like the type to make those things. You a secret fan?” I raised an eyebrow as I got up from the chair, cheeks staining pink. “No, I’ve probably only seen about 3 or 4 of your movies.” “Makes sense why your not freaking out more. You’re in the lap of luxury! Do you know how many people would kill to be where you are? Not the glass stuff... I mean here on a movie set, next to me, next to other actors! You’re gonna be watching the next big blockbuster in the flesh!” “I... I mean I am freaking out. This is alot I’m just not fangirling. I’m more just... alert.” I muttered, beginning to trail off as Johnny grabbed the script from under his chair, muttering to himself softly about ‘not respecting the art’ or something akin. Johnny was interesting to say the least. An actor turned fighter for Earthrealm all because of a misunderstanding. Even when he found out that it was a fight between realms and not just some fighting tournament that was way too into roleplaying, he stayed, finding out in the process that he had been from a long line of warriors with powers. And even though all of that happened he was still... him. Cocky, rude, arrogant. You’d think that something that life changing would... well change you but not Johnny. Ever since, everyone’s just sort of put up with him and his antics, even though I could see how close they were to decking him the face when he spoke. Most of the time, I was one of them but other times I could see something else in him, something more besides the douchebag he presented himself as. How suddenly nice he could get, how protective, serious. But those moments were few and far in between, especially when they were paired with moments like this. “Can you hand me a highlighter? Just over by the food table.”  I nodded, getting up and avoiding people with large bulky equipment that would easily put me into debt if I even thought of scratching it. I came back, handing the highlighter to the man. “Here you go Mr. Cage.” He raised an eyebrow as he grabbed the highlighter, a small laugh leaving his lips. “Mr. Cage? What are you my agent? You can call me Handsome, Sexy... really any adjective to describe a really good looking guy, Adonis maybe?” I could feel my cheeks get brighter, unsure if he was flirting with me or just trying to boost his own ego. What was I talking about, he wouldn’t flirt with someone like me. It was just him being an ass!  I turned my face away from him, beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable the longer I stood there. “Oh come on, that was funny! Don’t get your panties in a twist.” “A...are you serious? My panties in a twist? I’m not going to call you those things, especially here, someplace I’m not comfortable in!” I hissed under my breath as a passerby gave us a questionable look. ”Why? I’ve been called way dirtier things on and off the stage. These people are all use to it! I think that boom operator has even seen me get hot and heavy with a few actresses between takes. Honestly, I’m just trying to help you out, make you fit in with the crowd instead of looking like a little lost puppy like you always do, Hon.” He huffed, lowering the script on to his lap to highlight a few of his lines. His eyes didn’t meet mine once as he spoke, more focused on the movie then the insults and remarks he was slinging at me. “W-What the hell is wrong with you! Do you talk to everyone this way or just the people you see lower then yourself?”  “Trust me you aren’t as special as you think you are.” I felt a pin drop in my stomach as he spoke, a rage boiling deep inside of me that I had suppressed for far too long. I was never confrontational, always avoided verbal arguments if I could but having to deal with seeing him do this to everyone, to do it to me when I saw something in him. In a place surrounded by celebrities, by people who worked for him, in a place I felt like I didn’t belong. It felt like one straw too many for the camel’s back.  ”I can’t believe I ever saw something deeper to you then some shallow fuckboy with an ego the size of Mt. Everest!” I snapped, my voice echoing around the suddenly still sound stage. Even with the rest of the crews eyes now on us, Cage didn’t look up. Didn’t even flinch from what he was doing. His only response was a slow lowering of the marker in his hand as the eyes of hundreds of workers bore into my soul.  I couldn’t stand it. I dipped my head away, walking past the security guard that blocked the sound stage door to the outside. No one tried to stop me, to slow me down. Even before I reached the door I could hear them all return to what they were doing, like it was a normal occurrence there. I suppose it probably was when it came to people like him. Didn’t make it hurt any less though, to find out I was just another person on the long list of people he upset. I paced in circles outside the door, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. If I went back in there I knew I’d be stared down, both by Johnny and the movie crew, but if I stayed out here it could be just as bad. Besides wasn’t I suppose to be watching him? Suppose to have his back in case of any danger? Hell even if I hated his guts I wasn’t so petty to leave the guy in a dangerous situation where he could get killed. Or I could get killed. Not like I had a ride, I’d be walking the streets of Hollywood like an idiot. No map, no money. It was dog eat dog world out here even if there wasn’t dangerous mercenaries wanting to rip me to shreds. As I turned around for the umpteenth time, my eyes caught something at the other end of the building, something familiar slipping through the door frame before being blocked by the large metal door. I stopped in my tracks, face furrowing as I tried to piece together where I remembered that kinda clothing, that face. Big boots, something like knives strapped to his body, shaved head. I felt a chill run down my body as it finally clicked, the words of Sonya echoing in my head. ‘See this guy? I’ve been tracking this piece of human garbage for a while. He goes by the name Kano, and he’s the head of the Black Dragons, the same ones that brought that artifact to Earthrealm that changed you. If you ever see him, run. He plays dirty and even if you think you have a chance, you aren’t because he’s got a squadron of goons not far behind.’ “Johnny...” Without thinking I ripped the door open, sprinting into the sound stage only to be confronted with my worse fear. The crimson spray of blood from Cage’s mouth splattered across his body, droplets falling to the floor as Kano readied another punch.  “Johnny! No!” My voice was shrill, and harsh, as I ran towards the enemy, the one I was told to run away from. All to save some ass I told not 10 minutes ago that I saw no good in. As I closed in, I readied a punch, aiming for the cybernetic eye to hopefully bash in with a single decisive strike. I didn’t need to beat him, I didn’t need to win. All I needed was a small advantage for me to get Cage out of danger. My fist was stopped by Johnny’s hand, his face frantic as he stepped into my sight. “ACTING. ACTING, WE’RE ACTORS. LITERALLY ON A SOUND STAGE. DON’T DECK THE GUY TRYING TO GET A PAY CHECK!” “W-what? No that’s- your-” “Blood capsules. Fake blood.” He hissed, letting go of his tight grip on my hand to wipe the red dye from his face. “And that guy, isn’t Kano. He’s a guy I made the director add to movie BASED on Kano.” I felt my hand fall to my waist, turning to face the surprised actor I was mere seconds away from decking. My embarrassment flooded my body, stumbling back a few steps before the director began to scream from off set. “What the hell is going on?! This crazy broad walking on set, nearly hitting my stars, Johnny, baby, what the hell are you bringing to my set? Ya know I thought this bitch would be way more calm the the usual models you bring here but at least those don’t do this shit!”  The older man got up from his chair, megaphone in hand as he approached the actor. The rage emanating from him was palpable, making the air heavy and thick. I moved closer to Johnny, shamefully looking to the actor for guidance. I saw his eyes flicker down to me before giving a cocky look to the old man. “Excuse me? Are you... questioning the people I bring here? Me. Johnny FREAKING Cage? Award winning actor, multi box office record setting STAR... of who he brings on the set? Do you WANT a goddamn strike?” The director’s tone completely flipped at the boisterous words, slinking back into the shadows of the set. “Johnny, baby please-” he began. “Don’t you BABY me. You know my name!” “M..mr. Cage.” “That’s right. And you will address me as such as long as you wanna keep feeding that family of yours with this fat paycheck your getting from working with ME. So you keep your mouth shut about whoever the hell I bring here. I’ll bring a fucking live tiger if I damn well please and you just point your stupid little megaphone, give a big bright smile, and play along. GOT IT?” “Y...yes sir, Mr. Cage. Of course.” Johnny flashed a smile to the rest of the crew as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pushing me into his chest. “Now how about you all give my friend Jenna, a great big ‘Sorry’ and we can get back to working huh? Come on don’t be shy! ‘Sorry~ ‘come on, SAY IT!” He screamed, face turning red as the sound stage went hush. Slowly but surely a wave of monotone, ‘Sorry, Jenna’ erupted from the darkness of the sound set, culminating in the most unenthusiastic, forced apology from a group of grown ups I’d ever heard. It if wasn’t for the fact I could see them, I could of sworn that these were elementary school kids being yelled at by a principal for being too loud at lunch time. Johnny’s arm gave me a small reaffirming shake as he turned me toward him, a lip curled in smug pride. “There, ain’t that just the best medicine?” “What are you doing?” I whispered, hand going to touch his still oily chest. “It’s called acting. I figured if I’m the asshole, no one will shift the blame on you and the fact you just tried to bitch slap a B-list actor. After all if I’m a prick, might as well play the part.” He whispered back, giving a quick wink toward me as he patted my back. “Also, you called me Johnny. I gotta admit, that’s got a nice ring to it.” He placed another small pat to the small of my back and led me back toward his chair, giving the stink eye to a few people that glanced in our direction. “So. How bout we take it from square one huh? Come on, let’s get going people, hustle hustle, hustle! I ain’t getting any prettier! ” He began to clap his hands feverously causing the others to begin to run around for another take of the scene. As I reclined in the chair, watching the chaos beginning to start up, I couldn’t help but overhear people begin to bitch under their breath about how much of an ass Johnny was, completely forgetting about what just happened with me. At least Johnny was right about what would happen, making himself the target to absorb the hate. Who would care about some no name when everyone could tell their friends and family how shitty a guy Cage was for bringing the girl in the first place and acting like it was no big deal after all? He wasn’t an idiot, he used his arrogant nature to play people like a fiddle and people were none the wiser. All except for me, who saw the kindness break through the mask. Maybe I was too cruel, or maybe he was just doing it to prove he wasn’t a complete jackass to me. Either way, I was grateful. He didn’t need to do that, but he still did, much like most of things that happened with him.  I watched a makeup artist clean the blood off of Johnny’s chest, reapplying any patches of oil or foundation that had been ruined by the fake blood. Our eyes met from across the stage and with a cocky grin he flexed an arm, throwing a finger gun at me before barking an order at the makeup artist to further reassure his status of a dick. Jeopardizing his status in his inner circle all to make me feel better. What a guy.
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One Night Only 2, Part 5
Dedicated to @muse-of-mbaku and I should've been did this a long time ago. I sowwy. Word Count: 5,290
Warnings: Softboi!Erik, Smut
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Erik blinks slowly before touching his locs in a reaction that has come to mean he's not completely sold on your idea or thought process and you should think it through. "Aight so.. your plan is to fly Corey out here to the house to force him to talk to Anaya, but you say he ain't tryna see her or be around her for more than, what, ten seconds..," Erik's brow wrinkles.
"It's because he's emotional," you sigh shaking your head flippantly. "He cries easily when it comes to her and Anthony. Then he feels like a babyback bitch so he doesn't want anyone to see that side of him, but that's just how much he loves her. Which is why he needs to talk to her face to face," you gesticulate. "So I just need you to talk to him and convince him to come here because he might listen to advice coming from another quote-unquote alpha male."
He licks his lips, brow furrowing. "Watch yourself," his eyes twinkle. You offer your hand in relent.
"Chill moe. He's stubborn is all I mean, but that's another reason you could talk to him, y'all have that in common," you cheese. His brows go up in playful warning before you get serious again. "No, but you know as well as I do they belong together. They know it too, they just need to be reminded. I can't handle both of them, I can only hold one at a time. If one walks away I need you there to keep the other from leaving."
"Oh, like that?" He leans back on his elbows looking up from the bed at you as you plot your intentions.
"Bro, like that. Hopefully it doesn't come down to it, but knowing Anaya's temper and Corey's level of petty, it might."
Pulling out his phone. He dials a number and puts it on speaker. It rings twice before Corey's lazy voice picks up.
"They done got to you bruh?"
"My girl sad cuz your girl sad and it's cuz'uh you. Bring ya ass and fix it... Tired of this shit."
"Niggas got work."
"Not no more, we all held up off our schedules for this hoe shit. Get on a plane, you know the address. Don't make me have to come get you."
"Oh you tryna hoe me now? That's cool then, buy me another pair of sneakers when you touch down, bitch."
"Nigga fuck you," Erik's face scrunches.
"Since we hoein' an'shit.. yup. Hit my cash app. Have my gift in hand or be prepared to get that ass beat. Give a fuck if you a rapper nigga."
Just as you're about to step in because the conversation is getting way out of hand, you shut your mouth.
"Whatever bitch, you heard what the fuck I said. Get here," Erik mumbles.
"I said I'm coming, damn."
Corey hangs up and Erik balances the phone in his palm looking at the screen before turning his attention back to you. You don't know what the hell kind of communication that was, but if that was how they communicated, it had nothing to do with you.
"He'll be here.. What you gon' tell Anaya?"
"ANAYA ALREADY HEARD," a muffled voice fogs through the wall. Her room is a few doors away but she is nosey as hell in the next room. Erik's hard squint toward the wall only rips the sputtering snicker roughly from your lips. He's not used to people being nosey in his house.
"My bad," you almost snort when he wipes the particles from his face and stares at his hand like how dare you spit on him. "Stop, it's not poisonous. Lick it," you prompt pushing his hand to his face. He turns away like a baby not wanting the food you're pushing but he doesn't do that when he's kissing you. He leans backward on the bed seemingly to avoid you, but you see where this is going. You climb on top of him and like you suspected, he grips your ass with his free hand while you wrestle with his other thick hand trying to force it near his mouth as he snickers. You have every intention of playing along with his game. "LICK IT," you yell pushing his wrist as he tilts his head. You can feel him getting semi-hard beneath you.
"There are children in this house," Anaya yells through the wall.
"They ain't mine," Erik yells back before flipping you so that he's on top. The sloppiest kiss is what follows and then two chaste ones on your tongue since you refuse to put it back in your mouth.
"What you wanna do about the leaked number," he asks pulling back. You'd already gotten it changed, but you didn't know who posted the number onto twitter in the first place. If it wasn't Armont it had to be a business contact. You doubted it was anyone really close because they could've done it at any point and this seemed like too late in the game for bullshit like that to occur. You hadn't even seen the tweet in question though.. and you'd searched your name and your fan created hashtag #y/ngang.
"I just want to know who did it so I can move on without being paranoid. I can't even find the tweet they said was posted. I think it was deleted," you admit.
"You know damn well shit don't just disappear on the internet," he mumbles sitting up completely to dial another saved number and putting the phone on speaker. "Erik," the voice greets in a professionally chipper tone. "Quentin," Erik responds dully. "My girl's number was leaked on social media and that's a problem for me."
"Safety concerns, I get it," Quentin offers. "Shouldn't be too hard to figure things out. Did she change her number? That's the first thing I'd recommend."
"Yeah she got a new number, but I still need to know who's responsible for this leak or she can't give her new number out like she needs to. It's affecting her career and her lifestyle therefore it's a serious issue for me, you feel me?"
"Oh absolutely! Uhh, what is her account handle? I can check things out and call you back."
Erik gives him the necessary information and hangs up. "That's two problems. What was the third one? The babysitter. What she do?"
"Erik, I was disgusted," you sit up before recounting the situation of child neglect and catching the chick in your closet wearing your clothes. When you'd checked your closet it was clear she'd tried on multiple dresses and even sprayed your Dolce perfume a few times. It wasn't that you were hung up on these material items so much as the principle. She shouldn't have been in your stuff. She didn't know you and you didn't know her. "So not only had she not fed or cleaned up Anthony.. been all up and through my shit.. but when I kicked her out she ain't wanna leave immediately. I had to go downstairs and then I heard the door close like I'd scared her or something. What the fuck?"
He shakes his head unsure of what to say. "She lucky it was you who caught her and not me. She ain't mess with my shit wonder why?"
"I don't know but she weirded me out. Courtney, who we have now hasn't tried anything like that so far."
"Well you fired the other bitch and she ain't been back so things should be alright now."
"You right," you sigh letting it go. "Charge it to the game."
"That's right," he says rising and adjusting his dark grey joggers over his black briefs. "Was that it?"
"Yeah, I didn't expect you to stop and handle everything right now but--"
"Why wait," he interrupts, "Procrastination never helped anything."
"Facts.."
"I'll be in the gym," he calls over his shoulder as he shuffles from the room. Well.. that's that then. You'll just wait now to see what happens.
---
"Use your fans to track it down. Somebody gotta screenshot," Anaya says as she's beside you in the home studio spinning in a rolling chair. You've gotten far off the task of messing around with the sound of instruments for the fifth possible track on your album.. that is, if you don't switch it with the seventh track. Anaya was supposed to be telling you which order was better, but she was on her phone and deaf to the world around her. "You know what, I'll do it so your name doesn't have to get tied to it."
"Thank you because I'm not trying to dig myself deeper into anything stupid. I let my servants do the dirty work for me," you tease.
"BIIIITCH," Anaya rears ready to flame before getting distracted again.
"You got ADD," you comment. She's hooked to that phone.
"You got a nappy ass kitchen," she quips without looking up causing you to flinch at the quickness of the comeback. You feel on the hair at the back of your neck ready to come back at her but trying to find something else. "I'm a mom of a one year old boy, it's a requirement that I know how to multitask. I'm posting now trying to get some info. Hashtag Y/N. Hashtag who has those digits. Hashtag Y/Ngang. Hashtag.... wait. I just had a thought," her head shoots up. Her chair stalls.
"What if it's a page that doesn't like you?!"
"Who doesn't like me? It's me." Pft.
"But if someone's hating on you they don't see you," Anaya gestures to your general area, "They just see a generic image. Some bitch who has everything they want in life."
"I don't... hm.. damn, I do have everything..," you pause, "..but I've worked for it. It wasn't easy."
"You have."
"I may not deserve every good thing that comes--"
"Don't start that doubting shit," Anaya interrupts, her index going crazy to emphasize each point. "You deserve it. You worked for it. Anyone in your ass about it can catch these hands."
"I love it when you talk violent," you tease biting your lip.
"You so stupid. Shut the hell up," her eyes roll. "ANYWAY. I say we create a fake account but make it a hate page and talk shit. Then reach out and see what people are talking about you."
It's a good idea. You hang behind Anaya's shoulder as she creates a throw away email and a fake Twitter account handing you her phone. Instantly, you start hammering out tweets.
@ Y/N give it up, singing is not your ministry sis
People say Y/N is attractive. Okay, but consider seeing an optometrist?
If I have to hear her sing off key one more time I'm cutting my ear off like Van Gogh
"Done," you say handing the phone back to Anaya. She sputters and almost drops the phone. "What the hell," she cackles.
"What? That's the type of thing a hater would say. I've seen things like that said about me before. You've seen it too."
"Okay, but you got them beat in originality," she chuckles spinning in her chair. "Okay so let's search up the hating tags and.. here's an interesting account. There are about three, four, five.. nine tweets about you in this tag from one account. I BET they'd know something. I'm messaging them about my hate for you right now."
You stand over her shoulder to watch the screen as she sends the DM.
"They probably won't resp- Damn that was quick," she mumbles. The minutes slip away as you watch Anaya type back and forth, bullshit to this person on the other side of the screen who seems to absolutely hate every fiber of your being. You expected passive aggressive anger where they'd say something and then move on, but no. It's been twenty minutes and they haven't begun to talk their shit it seems.
And Killmonger doesn't even love her. I heard that he's gone all the time and they're not really together, it's just a publicity stunt so she can profit from his image since she lacks talent of her own.
"What the fuck....," you stare at the messages that keep popping up. Lowkey it's kind of bothering you, the passion and the time that they dedicate to hating you. Also, who is clocking Erik's schedule to know when he is and is not home?
Ooh tea? I need sources, Anaya responds with the eyes emoji. She's linked to a tea page with a discussion board consisting of twenty eight pages of back and forth chat, as well as pictures and videos of you.
What the hell....
For a bunch of people who claim to hate you, they spend a lot of time being hyperfixated on you. They look like fans. On page four there's the screenshot in question taken from Twitter and reposted with laughing emojis and various people saying that they called just to call you a bitch and hang up. Of course, you know for a fact that was a lie, you hadn't answered.
The poster of the tweet exposing your number seems to be a different account than the one you and Anaya have been chatting to. Anaya looks up the account and it's still activated, they've just taken down the tweet although they still talk shit. It's like a rabbit hole.
Anaya takes all the screenshots she can and stretches her thumb out before copying the links. You'll have to give them to Erik to pass to that guy he spoke with on the phone or get his number from Erik when he finishes his workout.
---
Over the next few days, you work only on your music in the home studio and in the recording studio where your team gathers. It's a lot of tedious work and a lot of trying different things, but it also feels good to be doing what you love. Erik is Erik.. consistently busy and everywhere and that's fine because you know you'll see him when Corey comes. Anaya has been enjoying the house, lounging and playing with Anthony while Courtney the new sitter has been stepping in mightily to give her breaks.
The day finally comes when your phone lights up with a message from Corey to say he's on the ground in LAX and taking a car. That means he'll get to your place in an hour. You check the time and call Anaya who's out back with Anthony playing in a plastic pool Courtney brought over to let Anthony splash in. You let her know she has an hour to prepare herself for whatever's about to happen. She just says okay. Then you call Erik. Corey gave him the heads up a long time ago it seems.. so he's already on his way home. Turning back to the computer before you, you put your Drop headphones back on and continue to edit your vocals for the track six, deciding it's missing something. Angling the Shure mic on the table, you speak a sentence and fade it into the next recorded verse.
You almost jump out of your skin when Erik drops his hands on your shoulders, laughing at your reaction.
"When you start rapping?"
Your heart thuds as you remove your headphones and check the time. Fourty minutes seems like ten when you're working.
"That's my greeting? Let's do this again. I'll walk out and come back. This time put a little more love in your reception."
You watch amused as he walks back out looking back at you repeatedly. He peaks his head in before sauntering into the room and approaching you. You stand and meet him half way hugging him before smoothing down his beard gently.
"Now that's better. Thank you," he mumbles bumping your nose with his and walking to the screen where you've been working on your project. "Can I hear what you have?"
"Of course." You want him to hear everything you have so far but you have to show him when you both have the time. For now, you just play track six watching his face closely for any change in expression as he shakes his head gently to the rhythm. "What do you think?"
"It's not finished, but it's good.." He's really focusing on the individual sounds you can tell. "I like where it's going, but... Yeah, you'll figure it out," he nods cutting his commentary short. He's not feeling it, but he's not one to harp on negative things regarding you or at all really. He sees that you understand the song kinda sucks right now. You nod in response deciding that the song is nowhere near being complete as he said and suddenly you hear where parts could be smoother and words could be omitted. It also comes to mind to change the entire arrangement. "I think I got it," you smile.
"I know you do," he confirms, "You always figure it out."
Leaning your head onto his chest, you hug him again and he rubs your back. So you decide to go a step further and slip your hand under his white graphic button down. There's a black and white image of a big fearsome cat printed near the neck. You begin unbuttoning the shiny magenta buttons from the bottom. He did make the shirt look damn good. You peel it off of him and toss it over your chair, working on his slim black Louis belt then his black Levi's. Close the door, you remind yourself before scooting off to lock it.
Your cut off hoodie comes off in a lithe motion followed by your shorts and panties in another quick push. When you reach him, you each have the same idea simultaneously yanking each other roughly, clashing bodies. He's got you by the waist and the low bun and your nails sink deeply into the keloids of his biceps as you sink to the floor intertwined, his body under yours. Your head swings to the side and your body envelops his, covering him and like a second skin while you slide back and forth.
"Grab my dick.. Put me inside." He holds your hips in place while you reach under and grab his length, sliding the tip along your lower lips and slipping it into your cave. "Don't tease my shit, ride."
You sit with the dick inside, shallow, and make slow even rotations taking his hands from your hips and pinning them near his head. You tend to do this slowly and watch his patience deteriorate bit by bit. He doesn't speak again, but you watch his eyes fixed unblinking on yours as you continue your slow wind, smug.
You keep winding and then pause, realizing it's not giving you the feeling you want and are used to. He's not reacting the way you expected either. You wanted him to get frustrated and take that passion out on you but..
"That's it? Or did you wanna dry hump me too?"
"You're annoying."
"Nah, I just wondered how long you'd do that knowing it wasn't hitting shit for you or me. Did you have fun?"
Planting your hands on his chest you push from your knees to the balls of your feet and bounce up and down taking him deep the way he likes it. It's mildly painful, but also very pleasurable. This is the position that changes his tune. If he's mad, you can always hit this position in the bedroom and soon he's back to singing your praises. A little clit stimulation and you'd be closer to coming too. Reading your mind, his fingers swipe his tongue and then reach to rub your small nerve bundle in the way you love.
"Bounce it, gimme all that."
You go as long as you can, taking the pounding in stride no matter what.. until your knees give from the fatigue and your body gets weak from the pressure of your building orgasm. You decide to ride, rocking against him from on your knees. You're close.
"Faster," he whispers, a hard quick slap to your ass. Oh shit.. You go faster until your body gives you that jolt like you're about to cum. "Wait what you doing," he panics suddenly.
"Reverse cowgirl." Giving yourself a quick and slick break, you have to pause to turn around, but you manage to keep the dick in and start back riding building your speed. Reaching down, you grab his balls gently to force him closer to orgasm. He moans a little when you play with them and you continue until he grips your legs.
"You tryna make me nut first."
"What was your first clue," you smirk giving his sack a mild tug forcing him to cuss sharply. He likes this.. and so do you. You want him to cum and after two more well timed pulls, the white creamy fluid shoots inside you.
---
"I missed this," he pants, his minty breath on your ear as you claw his back and bite your lip, your knees high on either side of his large body.
"I'm coming," you breathe letting the electric current cause your body to shake and jolt. When you finally calm down some, he pulls out and you pant quietly while he lays beside you. A glass of water at this point would be great. Swallowing, you sigh big. "It's a shame Corey had to come to bring you back home to me," you pout. His kryptonite. He kisses his teeth.
"You know I got a lot I be doing," he whispers but you're not truly upset with him and he knows that. You know better than to fault him for his career and interests. He never did that to you.
"I forgive you. You're here now," you smile seeing the warmth in his almost black eyes.
"I ASKED YOU A SIMPLE QUESTION," Corey's voice yells so loudly that it carries to where you are. You check the time realizing you'd done forgot all about him. Shit, shit shit. Scurrying, you pull on all your clothes piece by piece and Erik stands leisurely putting his clothes back on but leaves the shirt unbuttoned and his sneakers off and on the floor.
Following the shouting, you walk out into the hall and see Corey outside of the guest room facing the doorway. Anaya's calm angry voice is loud now too.
"And I don't have to answer the way you want me to. I answer the question how I answer it and you take what I say as what I mean. I mean exactly what I said," she asserts loudly. You get close enough to lay eyes on them both and you notice baby Anthony on the bed sleep. How he could sleep through all the yelling was beyond you. Must be used to it.
"...I'm a ask you one mo' damn time," Cory points walking into the room straight up to Anaya with two fingers, almost pushed into her face. She doesn't budge knowing he knows better than to put them any closer. He's not that reckless afterall.
"What's the question," you yell cutting in with a hand between the angry couple. Anaya's eyes go straight to you, her hand flying up in exasperation.
"He keeps asking me if I'm FUCKING anyone at WORK.. I don't know how many fucking ways to say no. Do I need to sing it in a song because words don't penetrate."
Gaping, you flatten your hand in the air and lower it signaling her to come down a notch. Few times have you ever seen her this angry. Her lips purse and her eyes shift briefly before her head tilts and her foot swings on its heel. She's trying.
"Corey. Back the hell up," you say slowly pushing your hand forward to gesture he should step back. He takes two quick dramatic steps back, shrugs, and crosses his arms. "Show me the picture," you prompt moving closer to him and watching his phone screen when he takes it out. It looks like a woman who looks like Anaya and it does look like she's on her knees and her head is obstructed by a mans ass and groin area though his pants are up.... it doesn't look good. His fly could be down... He's got one hand in front of him because on camera you can't see it. It looks like he could be palming her head. "Um.. wait. Neither of y'all say a word to each other. I need to examine this."
How can you tell Corey that the photo is a lie when you'd think the same thing as him seeing the photo with no context. Anaya said she was picking stuff up from the floor, but the photo is cropped so there's no proof. But there's also no concrete, hardcore evidence that Anaya is lying.
"She wouldn't do something like this especially in public," you say aloud looking at every detail you can and zooming on the photo.
"No offense, Y/N, you like a sister to me for real, but no one figured you for sex in public with niggas you barely know but look how that turned out. How am I supposed to be sure? I'm just supposed to accept that she just might be cheating on my ass and that's supposed to be okay? I gave everything to this fuckin relationship I can't st- Man, shit." He made it halfway to the door before Erik blocked it.
"For starters, fuck you," you glare. "Second, look at you right now acting like a bitch. You always forcing me to do some shit saying I need to boss up? Yeah, it's your turn to face your relationship head on. Put your big boy pants on. Stop being a BITCH."
"You call me a bitch one more time," he points.
"And you'll do what," you challenge stepping closer.
"Pluck you in that bigass sixhead. Sit ya ass down."
"I wish you would! You lucky Anaya loves you, stupid ass. But you need to trust her! Anyone who gets accused constantly like that and not believed would be mad. You're basically calling her a hoe. How long is she supposed to hear that she's a hoe from you?"
"Maybe don't do hoe-ish shit," Corey snarks narrowing his eyes with sarcasm. You can feel Anaya's rage behind you building. It's a concoction of anger, frustration, pain, and annoyance. This is cutting her deeply to her core.
"Corey... Do you honestly think that lowly of her?" Your own heart is shredding at this point and heavy.
"I don't think lowly of her, I still love her... I still love you and shit," he says to her now, "But goddamn I don't know what to do. I always felt like some nigga would come along and try to take my place.. I tried to do everything so you wouldn't feel a need to go to no other nigga for nothing and then I hear that you suckin dick in the office and y'all messing around. Bitch sends a damn PICTURE. What would you do with that? You'd leave my ass. Lie and say you wouldn't. Lie and say you wouldn't!"
"Get out my face," Anaya sighs.
A loud smash steals the attention of the room and it wakes the baby who looks confused and a little scared before going back to sleep. There is Erik with a stack of plates. You hadn't noticed he'd left. One plate is shattered on the floor from hitting the wall.
"We taking this downstairs." Erik's eyes narrow and he turns leaving the room. You see Anaya look to Anthony who's sleep again and the three of you head downstairs after Erik finding him in the middle of the living room. He hands a plate to Corey. "Smash it," he commands. Corey eyes him, feeling the weight of the plate in his hand and staring at the wall before throwing the plate.
"FUCK," he yells throwing his arms and stretching them.
"Feels good," Erik nods handing Anaya a plate. He doesn't have to tell her. She smashes it and then another one, her body dropping the tension, arms going slack and hanging. It's so sudden when she starts sobbing, you're shocked but you rush in to hold her as she let's loose on your shoulder, shaking.
"Regardless of what the pictures show... This the mother of your child," Erik speaks, his eyes on Corey whose arms are over his head like he's trying to stay standing. "This is the one who takes care of your home, feeds your child. This is the one you decided to marry. Till death do you part. Y'all ain't dead," he shrugs. "Neither are your feelings for each other apparently."
You can't see Corey's face but you can hear him sniffling and see his hand moving constantly to wipe at his face and he groans like he's frustrated at himself for crying.
"Y'all gonna get over this. It won't be easy. But you both need to." He's looking at Anaya now and he touches her shoulder gently not taking her from your embrace. His voice comes out lowly and it's so warm and kind it's comforting you as well and you're not even the target. "Now you know this damp ass nigga be crying himself to sleep to Jodeci. You got the type of nigga to sing Frank Ocean to a picture of you, thinking bout you.. You really finna let that go? ....When you know he luh you that much?"
Her sobs have slowed and her breathing has begun to even. He turns back to Corey.
"Y'all are meant to be together.. People gonna test to see if they can get between y'all.. Don't let em," he nearly whispers. "I stay getting DMs saying my girl been with hella other niggas in the industry."
"Hold up, what DMs," you murmur looking over. Not to ruin the moment. But what DMs??
"--other niggas who ain't got a pot to piss in," he adds.
"Who is sending these DMs," you ask a bit louder.
"I even seen shit photoshopped to look damn realistic... but I trust her. She ain't give me a reason not to. Even if she did, I'm not giving her up that easy. NOOO," he frowns. "That's mine. She stuck with my ass."
"Ok but can we go back to who is working so diligently to craft such ridiculous lies? Can we get that info?"
"Y/N.... Shut up. This ain't about you. See that?" He turns back to Corey. "How long it take y'all to be comfortable and real with each other like that? Love when you reach a certain point.. it ain't always worth starting all the way the fuck over. Some relationships ain't meant to be, true. But it took Y/N to come along and teach me that there will be someone in your life worth fighting and dying for and nigga.. you got two. Don't fuck this up. This small shit. Look at this girl, how in love she is witcha ugly ass.. You see that shit?"
A moment passes and Corey approaches you and Anaya slowly, locking eyes with you and requesting permission to Anaya which you grant. Carefully you pull back and let Corey take your place holding her. She starts to cry again and this time he's rubbing comforting circles on her back and rocking her gently. Erik tilts his head giving you the sign to go with him upstairs leaving them alone and the two of you silently make your exit.
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