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juyeonszn · 5 months

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PARTY O’CLOCK

PAIRING choi chanhee x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.39k

GENRES fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, tau beta zeta frat treasurer!chanhee, reader is a stereotypical party girl, she’s also an astronomy major, mentions of alcohol, i’m pretty sure everyone makes a cameo at some point, kevin moon playing matchmaker, we escalate a little fast so, intense making out, marking, vaginal fingering, brat tamer!chanhee, dom!chanhee, lowkey pussy job for like 1 second, nipple play? kinda?, unprotected sex, wall sex, missionary, multiple orgasms, creampie (yk… the usual), overstimulation

SUMMARY in spite of being a frat boy himself, chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? enter you and your carefree spirit and chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.

MORE … don’t yell at me PLEASE. i know this is 2 days overdue. I KNOW I KNOW. i’ve been so busy these past couple days and my time management is ass we already know this. BUT IM HERE AND SHES FINISHED AND ITS CHRISTMAS EVE SO??? 🙏🙏😍 anyways. i hope u guys enjoy i had a fun time writing this. i’m a firm believer in dom chanhee 😋 if u liked this pls don’t forget to reblog!

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel @ericlvr

TAGLIST @millksea

“Who’s that?”

The question comes out before you can even stop it, eyes focused on a guy sitting on one of the couches in the living room, complete disinterest all over his face. He’s pretty. Prettier than any guy you’ve ever seen. But he also looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than at this party.

“Who?” Your friend Heejin asks, following your gaze.

She finds out pretty quickly, especially because of how intense your stare is. She racks her brain for his name, sure it’s somewhere in her catalog of the student body. Heejin was the kind of person who knew everyone even if she didn’t exactly know them personally. She was both sociable and obsessed with gossip, sticking her nose in the business of those around her.

“Ah! That’s Choi Chanhee,” she nods, index finger tapping her chin. “He’s the Tau Beta Zeta treasurer actually. That’s probably why he looks like he wants to kill himself. Dude doesn’t really want to be here, but fraternity brothers are required to attend every party.”

She’s right, it appears, when you see some of the members you do recognize make their way over to bother him. He definitely does not look like the fraternity type, but you guess it also makes sense in a way. Maybe he needed an extracurricular or something that would be nice on his resume.

It’s hard for you to enjoy yourself for the rest of the night, too concentrated on the treasurer who’s lips stay pressed into a frown the entire time. You try to take shots with Heejin, but your eyes gravitate back to the sofa. Ji Changmin and his girlfriend even convinced the two of you to play them in beer pong. (Worst mistake you’ve ever made. You sucked at beer pong.) You finally draw the line at a game of Rage Cage, when you strategically get placed between Lee Juyeon and Heejin, arguably the best drinkers at the function.

Everyone laughs at you when you take a step back and recall your decision to join. And just as you suspected, you end up back in the living room, right where you wanted. Chanhee hasn’t moved from his spot, occasionally taking sips of whatever he’s drinking and scrolling through his phone.

You remember when that was Jacob Bae’s thing to do, and then he went and got himself a girlfriend. Perhaps that’s what Chanhee needed to do. A girlfriend was a little bit of a stretch, but someone to help him loosen up at these things was plausible. Girls weren’t even trying to hit on him left and right like they usually did with the Tau Beta Zeta boys, which was even more surprising considering most of them had their own partners now. Desperation was an ugly look on the university female, you know.

Which is exactly why you don’t make any moves that night.

Initially, you think you’ll wait a week. You happen to see him on campus a few times. The first time is in the library studying with some headphones on, in his element. The second time is in the cafe on campus, again, doing coursework with the intention of being left alone. Then it’s when you’re leaving your Fundamentals of Astronomy lecture, walking to one of his own classes. In your head, you’re being tested, like a dog with a bone being dangled in front of its face. It’s tortuous, wanting to go up to him and introduce yourself, but you don’t do it.

Heejin “drags” you to another TBZ party the following Friday and you put extra effort into your outfit. You walk in with the hopes to sweep him off of his feet, strutting into the fraternity house with a confidence that throws you off. Just when you’re getting ready to walk up to him, Kim Sunwoo intercepts and you backtrack. That ruins any of the lingering self-assurance in your system. So you push things back another week.

The next time you plan on striking, you and Heejin had said you’d meet at the party since she had something to do prior. You arrive at around 11 PM, prepared to shoot your shot and score. The kitchen is the first place you go, concocting yourself a drink that doesn’t get you trashed, but provides enough liquid courage. Then Heejin texts that her project partners wanted to grab food and she wasn’t going to make it. The thought of being alone without moral support effectively kills your mood, so you only stay for another hour or so before leaving.

It’s annoying, really. Every single time you attempt to set your plan into motion, something has to interrupt and mess things up for you.

This is your dilemma for roughly every weekend for a whole month. By the time you know it, it’s midterm season and you’re too stressed out over exams to think about Choi Chanhee. Divine intervention was a crazy concept, so maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Maybe this was your sign to just call it quits and give up on your weird fantasy of being the girl who charmed him.

“Do you wanna go to the TBZ party Saturday? We can celebrate finishing these stupid fucking exams and just relax for another couple months before we have to worry about finals.” Heejin asks through a mouthful of instant ramyeon. You sigh.

“Sure, whatever.” Your lips purse, pushing around your own food. She raises an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side in confusion.

“What the hell happened to you? You were jumping for joy when it came to going to them all semester, but now that I want to get shitfaced, you don’t seem all that excited.” She puts her chopsticks down, narrowing her eyes at you from across the table. You shrug.

“I don’t know,” you rest your cheek on your palm, huffing. “I guess I’m not really in the party mood anymore.”

“Bullshit,” she scoffs. “You’re the girl everyone thinks of when they talk about the typical university party girl. There must be a reason you’re suddenly Miss Debbie Downer.”

You could just tell her the truth, tell her about your delusions and the need to be different. As your roommate and best friend, she wasn’t at liberty to judge you. But this was so unlike you, so you knew she would anyway. It was out of character for you to be this enthralled by a man, let alone a stranger you’ve never spoken a word to. In fact it’s even thrown you for a loop, this mental break giving you clarity about your recent actions.

“That time I asked you who Choi Chanhee was,” you start after some silence. “I thought about going up to him and finding out why he’s so uptight. I sorta wanted to be in a ‘not like other girls’ situation. But whenever I wanted to swoop in, something always interfered. And now I’m just over it.”

“Y/N. You cannot be serious,” Heejin gawks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Chanhee’s very picky about the girls he talks to. I could probably name on a hand the ones who’ve successfully snuck their way into his pants. He has specific taste, too; pretty ones who know when to shut their mouths.”

Your jaw drops, because what the fuck? He’s not a raging virgin with that personality? No wonder there wasn’t a line of single ladies attempting to land in his bed. They all knew they didn’t stand a chance. It kind of encourages you to resume your mission. You were never one to back down from a challenge.

“In that case…” A mischievous glint sparkles in your eye.

“Good god,” she rolls her own. “I’m warning you now, I highly doubt this will end in your favor.”

“You know me, Heejin. I never take no for an answer.”

It’s the day before the party and you’re walking out of your last midterm exam, a new light in your eyes now that you’re somewhat free. You step into the quad with your arms stretched above your head, a yawn pushing through your lips. You were long overdue for a good nap.

“Y/N!”

You whip around to find Kevin Moon from your Music Appreciation class stalking towards you. Part of you wants to pretend you’d never heard him and keep walking, drained of energy after that Intro to Astrophysics exam you’d just taken. Your brain felt like mush at this point. But you were kind, and you would’ve just felt bad about ignoring him anyways.

Kevin catches up to you rather quickly, hands hidden inside of his hoodie pockets. He lets out a sigh, both of you watching the puff of air that forms in front of him. “You’re going to the party tomorrow right?”

“I am…” You furrow your eyebrows, narrowing your eyes skeptically just a bit. “Why?”

“I have a huge favor to ask you.” He clasps his hands together, as if he wasn’t above begging on his hands and knees. You’re confused even further, because what could Kevin Moon possibly want from you?

“Okay… What is it?” The suspicion in your tone is so strong, that there’s no doubt he hasn’t noticed it by now. He holds the heel of his palm to his forehead.

“So, I was supposed to go with my friend Chanhee to try out that new outer space themed coffee place just outside of campus later today, but I got put on alcohol duty and I won’t be able to. I know you’re an Astronomy major so I figured that was something you’d like. Do you think you could go in my place?” He bats his eyelashes at you, like doing puppy dog eyes will convince you. You stare at him blankly. He wants you to do what?!

Meeting Choi Chanhee before the party tomorrow was not in your itinerary. Usually you were decent at adapting to changes in your plans, but this? This was more than just something minor that you could acclimate to. You had to psych yourself for hours in order to execute something of this caliber. Was Kevin Moon trying to send you into cardiac arrest?

“W-Wh— I mean— well—” You fumble over your words— something you never do— and Kevin breaks into a wide grin. You’re not sure if the blush across your face is from the cold weather nipping at it, or the thought of being put between a rock and a hard place.

“Perfect! I owe you one! Meet him in like an hour.” He pats your back like you’re one of the homies, not giving you any room for refutation. You actually feel like throwing up. How were you supposed to just show up without qualms?

Did he really expect you to just do this out of the goodness of your heart? No complaints stacked up to be hurled in his direction? You’d known Kevin Moon since freshman year orientation, but you didn’t think you were close enough for him to throw his dirty work at you. You can’t help but stand there dumbly as he walks away, a pep in his step that nearly has tick marks forming on your temple.

Okay, you know what? This is fine. This was totally fine. All you had to do was sip on some coffee, make some small talk, and then you could be on your way. It wasn’t that hard… was it?

You could throw on an act, pretend like you were one of those pretty girls who knew when to shut their mouths just like Heejin said he was into. You could give him a false glimpse into who you were and he wouldn’t know what you were really thinking of doing. The you of tomorrow would be a complete 180° turn around from the you of today, and Choi Chanhee would be the one groveling at your feet.

As soon as you walk into the cafe, your throat feels narrow, like it was closing in on you. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. It’s not like Chanhee knew you. He couldn’t possibly be aware of your existence, much less of your little fascination with him.

You see him sitting at a table for two, the straw of his drink trapped between his lips. He sips leisurely as he scrolls through his phone, likely waiting on Kevin since you’re sure he left his friend in the dark. You pick at a thread on your sweater as you stop in front of him, raising your hand in an awkward wave. Chanhee glances up, confusion in his features at first and then it morphs into something else.

A laugh has to be held back when he chokes on his drink, slapping a hand over his mouth. He stands up quickly, wiping his palms on his pants.

“Hi,” your voice is small, so far off from your usual boldness. “I’m Y/N. Kevin sent me.”

“Fucking Kevin,” he curses underneath his breath, forcing a smile. “Um, please sit.”

You take the seat across from him, eyes flickering around the coffee shop to absorb your surroundings. It’s pretty, the stars and planets painted all over the walls and ceilings. Even the drinks had celestial themed names. Your friend was right, you would love it here. It was right up your alley.

“I— uh— Kevin had texted me and told me what to order for him, but I’m assuming he meant for you, because he never told me you were uh— that you were coming.” He scratches the back of his neck as a server leaves a drink in front of you.

“He stopped me in the quad after my midterm and asked if I could fill in for him. Something came up apparently.” You explain, humming in appreciation when you taste your coffee. “He remembered that I was an Astronomy major and figured I was his best bet I guess.”

Chanhee purses his lips, it’s almost like he knows something you don’t. He nods slowly. “Yeah… I’m sure that’s why…”

The impromptu formal introduction between you goes on without a hitch. It goes so well, that the time flies faster than you’d hoped it would. You get a tiny peek into Choi Chanhee and his life as the TBZ fraternity treasurer, but it’s not enough to satiate that unbearable curiosity that pricks at you.

Thankfully, you have tomorrow to do exactly that.

Heejin and yourself arrive at the Tau Beta Zeta party that Saturday with a goal in mind; Getting Choi Chanhee into bed with you.

Okay. Maybe that wasn’t actually the main objective, but it was definitely a side quest. What you really wanted to do was get him to let his guard down. Like your friend said previously, you were the stereotypical party girl. Had there been a picture beside the term in a dictionary, your pretty little face would be there, a red solo cup in your hand and all. If he wound up being entranced by your womanly witchery, that was on him.

Just like your first go at wooing him, you decided to pull out all the stops. You’d worn your shortest, tightest fitting dress despite the weather not necessarily permitting it. It was a cute black strapless number that you paired with some long heeled boots and a warm fuzzy jacket. You looked hotter than the sun itself, and deep down you’d feel extremely disappointed if he wasn’t falling to his knees for you by the end of the night.

A sense of déjà vu washes over you the moment you step through the front door into the jam packed fraternity house. The bumping early 2000s music and the thrumming of the bass gave you an adrenaline rush like no other. Nothing could waver your confidence this roundabout. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.

Before you sink your claws into the treasurer, you need to grab yourself a drink. You and Heejin take a shot from one of the various liquor bottles on the counter, serving yourselves each a cup of whatever Jacob Bae threw together for the party. It was kind of funny that the resident bartender for these things wasn’t even a member of the frat. You and your friend cheers to the night ahead of you, manifesting that things go your way.

It’s rather easy to catch his eye even in the bustling crowd of drunk college students, glued in his usual spot on one of the living room sofas. His dark hair falls into his eyes when he glances down at his phone to check the time, almost as if he was counting down the hours, the minutes until this party was over. He brushes it out of his face with his index finger at the same time he raises his cup to his mouth, knocking back the contents with a slight wince.

He espies your presence immediately after that, raking your figure with an unrecognizable look in his gaze. Though you were shivering upon entering the house, your skin felt hot to the touch now, the burning intensity of his stare melting away any nerves that might’ve been lingering. You pull your jacket off of your shoulders, tossing it over your forearm as you snake through the bodies sardined between the two of you.

“Hi,” you greet once you’re in front of him. “I’m Y/N.”

His lips quirk upwards and he stands so you’re no longer peering down at him. In spite of meeting each other yesterday, he decides to play along. “I’m Chanhee.”

“Well, Chanhee,” you bite your acrylic nail, not bothering to hide the unabashed desire in your expression and drinking in his appearance like a glass of water. “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room. You looked bored and I was wondering if I could change that. I know how to have a good time.”

Chanhee thinks it’s cute, the amount of effort you’re putting into this little charade. He doesn’t doubt that you knew of his reputation when it came to sleeping with girls. He knows he’s a bit conscientious when it comes to this sort of thing, but that’s only because he doesn’t want to deal with being seen as someone who’s ran-through. (For an example, please see (No) Strings Attached™.)

However, you were different. Chanhee thought you were cute from the very first time he saw you, which happened to be at a Tau Beta Zeta party last semester. He knew you were friends with Kevin, so maybe it was on him for the delay of your union, but he’d grown a little tired of always making the first move. He’s somewhat grateful that you were the type of girl who set her sights on something and never backed down from it. You were headstrong and that was exactly what had him hooked.

Nevertheless, it would be a bit of an issue. The only part of the rumors surrounding the treasurer that was true, was the part about him preferring his partners to be on the quieter side. There was something about them following his every demand, kneeling at his beck and call, that lit a fire underneath him. The mouthier they were, the less he enjoyed himself. But for some reason, he doesn’t think it’ll bother him as much with you. In fact, he thinks he’ll have fun putting you in your place.

“You know, Y/N,” he pushes your hair over your bare shoulder, letting his thumb graze your warm skin with a small but conniving grin. “I’m not too sure you’ll be able to cure this boredom that’s been plaguing me. It depends on what you have in mind.”

You might cry. A strained groan stays stuck in your throat, fighting to inch its way out of you. Fuck this stupid party. Fuck your stupid idea. You had a new mission. You needed him now and you needed him bad.

Your lips are on his in a matter of seconds, rushed and desperate. You don’t have the strength in you to act like you weren’t just about ready to combust. The curve of a smile can be felt through the kiss, his hands coming to rest on your waist and dig into the fabric of your dress. Had this been any other guy, any other day even, you would’ve freaked out over the PDA. Right now, though, you’re too lost in the moment, too absorbed in the high that kissing Choi Chanhee is providing.

His mouth travels along your jaw and neck, finally snapping you back to reality. With shaky breathing and a wavering voice, you step back from him. “Don’t you want— don’t we need some privacy?”

He laughs like he’s on the inside of a joke you’re unaware of. “Oh, so now you care about privacy? You didn’t when you were trying to seduce me ten minutes ago.”

Your cheeks flush impossibly more, cowering into the space where his shoulder meets his collarbone. All that confidence and for what? He really could not wait another second to see you crumble beneath him.

“Too shy for me to fuck you in front of all these people, sweetheart?” He asks in your ear, leaving a gentle kiss on the lobe as he does so.

You’re dizzy, so dizzy you might faint in the middle of this living room. Who would’ve known that such a pretty boy had such a filthy mouth on him? He knows he’s got you right where he wants you when you fist the material of his shirt, the vibrations of a whine on his neck. It’s kind of comical how little it took for you to crack.

He hauls you away to what you assume is his bedroom, fingers caressing the inside of your wrist. You think maybe he’s all talk, that he’s actually a big softie who couldn’t hurt a fly. The way he’s careful with his touch and making sure he doesn’t lose you as you weave through the other party attendees. At least, that’s what you thought.

But then he’s slamming his door shut and pinning you against it face first. His lips return to their prior position, sucking in the plush skin on your throat and your shoulders. You can feel him pressed into your lower back, hard and ready for you. He doesn’t seem to pay much attention to it, instead trailing his fingers down your front and sneaking under your dress.

He bunches it up around your hips, middle and ring digits circling your clit through the lace of your panties. Everything is escalating too quickly for you to comprehend. You whimper into the wood of the door, drool beginning to pool in your mouth. You’re so needy that you’re salivating over the prospects of what’s to come.

“Want more, Chanhee,” your words are muffled, but he understands you nonetheless.

“You want more?” He pouts, a false tone of sympathy in his voice. “Poor you, asking for something you can’t even handle.”

You squirm, raising your leg in an attempt to reach a different angle. The pads of his fingers apply an increased pressure on your clit, the friction caused by your underwear skyrocketing your heart rate. You know he can feel the pulse when his lips reconnect to that sensitive area just under your jaw. Your back arches, still craving and yearning for additional touch.

His fingers slip into the waistband of your thong, collecting your arousal and using it as a lubricant to glide through your folds. He thrusts two of them in and out of your entrance, the heel of his palm rubbing up against your clit. You moan, louder this time. His free hand shoves the top of your dress down, groping and kneading your bare breast. You wanted more, he’ll give you more.

You’re a whining, squirrely mess, humping his hand like a bitch in heat. It’s hilarious, really. The way you wanted him begging, but the tables seemed to have turned, flipping it the other way around. He ensures that he leaves his mark on you, biting your skin with the intent to bruise. He doesn’t care if you looked like you were attacked by a vicious animal. If Chanhee was anything, he was possessive, wanting everyone to know what was his and not to get near it lest they wanted to keep their lives. What better way to stake his claim than on your body, where anyone could see?

He senses that you’re close to your release, your walls clenching around his fingers and sucking them in further. Most people would’ve been generous, making your orgasm smooth sailing. But Choi Chanhee was not like most people. That much is obvious when he adds a third finger, restraining himself from groaning at the feeling of your cunt constricting and contracting. The stretch has your stomach tying in knots, each one growing tighter and tighter until they just about untangle altogether.

You cum with a guttural groan, nearly convulsing in his hold, but he keeps you pressed to the surface of the door. He doesn’t stop his motions, fingers curling and uncurling like he was reaching for something inside of you. You push your ass into his crotch, another whine escaping your lips when you feel his cock impressing into it. He bites his tongue to refrain from evoking a sound.

The poised nature of your regular personality makes a comeback, one of your hands cupping the side of his face. You pant as you speak, rasping slightly after all the moaning you just did. “Can you fuck me for real now?”

Chanhee forces your underwear down your legs roughly, kicking them out of the way once they hit the floor. “You’re such a goddamn brat. Nothing is ever enough for you is it?” You can hear rustling behind you, the unbuttoning of pants and the discarding of his shirt. And then you feel him. God, you might die. He’s flush between your lower lips, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “Gonna have to fuck you until you learn your place, don’t I?”

He squeezes your cheeks together with his thumb and forefinger, relishing in the adorable pout it forms. All you can do is nod, eyes fluttering shut when he finally slides inside of you. The weight of him sits heavy in your cunt, the singular drive of his hips causing your clit to bump into the door. It sends a rippled shockwave throughout your body, a voluminous moan breaching past your lips. Chanhee rests his forehead on your shoulder, staying still for a moment to gather himself.

It’s not long before he’s pistoning his cock into your pussy like a sword being sheathed and unsheathed. You claw at the wall as a means of grounding yourself, inconsistently paced cries and mewls of pleasure bouncing around the room. He hikes up your leg higher, palming at your tits so he can override your senses any way he can. You’re so lightheaded and tears have begun to spring at the corners of your eyes. It feels too good.

“O-Oh my god, you’re s-so— f-fuck Chanhee,” you babble, gasping for air as he continuously punches it out of you with every inch his cock buries into you.

He’s enjoying himself too much, loving how fucked out you look. He’s reduced you to an incoherent state of being. You curve your back a bit more for him, allowing the depth at which he slips in you to go further.

Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t take much to wind you back up to that summit from previously. You’re on the brink of your second orgasm, your chest heating up and your abdomen contracting. He doesn’t let up, pinching and thumbing at a peaked nipple to egg on your release. This one feels a lot stronger than the first, your knees nearly giving out on you.

“C’mon sweetheart, that’s it,” he coaxes, stroking your hair from your face.

Chanhee fucks you through it, allotting space for you to recover before he’s knocking you onto his bed. He removes your dress entirely and rubs up and down your thighs. The exhaustion is already beginning to settle in, but you realize that he hasn’t finished not once and you’d be hitting your third at this point. You’re overstimulated and your body aches all over, but you push through.

He finds your entrance again, pressing into your cunt with more ease. You whine, smushing your cheek into the mattress. Your toes curl and you fist at the sheets, eyes all but rolling to the back of your head where you see white spots and stars coating your vision. He grips your hips to hold you still, starting to rock back into your pussy with practiced aggression. He’s carnal with his movements, but it’s careful, almost like he doesn’t really want to hurt you.

“It’s too much—“ you interrupt yourself with a wail, the tears from earlier tracking along the sides of your face.

“I’ve fucked you stupid, haven’t I? Thought I was done with you?” He strains, folding over so he can kiss the skin of your collarbone and trail up to your mouth. His lips brush yours when he talks, teasing you as if he hadn’t already fucked you within an inch of your life. “Do you think I’m having fun yet?”

Your cunt sucks him in like a vacuum, your volume rising the closer you get to what you hope is your last orgasm of the night. What you needed was the best sleep ever after this. Your brain can barely form sentences, and you struggle to give him a proper response. “Y-Yes, Cha-Chanhee— oh god— s-so much fun,”

Your breath catches in your throat when that familiar sensation reappears. Chanhee is in his own world, focused on chasing his own release. His nails dig into the fat of your thighs, thrusts becoming deeper and slower. You reach between the two of you to swipe at your clit with your middle and ring fingers, the extra stimulation tipping you over that sweet edge.

Your orgasm crests upon you with so much intensity that you can’t even make a sound. If you do, it’s so far away from you that you don’t hear it. The uncontrollable fluttering of your walls sets Chanhee’s into action, his hips stuttering with a groan that doesn’t meet your ears. He fills you up with enough cum that it begins to spill out of you in spite of his cock still plugged inside your cunt. You both take a moment to recollect your bearings, chests clashing with each rise and fall from your breathing.

After what feels like forever, he pulls out and collapses on the bed beside you, the back of his hand thrown over his forehead.

“Holy shit— I mean— wow I really— I really didn’t think you were so…” You don’t finish your thought, head still stuck on the actions you’d committed prior.

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Chanhee shrugs, sighing dramatically.

“You are not quiet,” you turn your head to give him a pointed look. “But, I’m not complaining. I got my insides rearranged six ways to Sunday. Who’s the real winner here?”

“Me, actually,” he says, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. “I’ve had the longer crush.”

“Y-You— huh?!” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head, comically wide like a deer’s caught in headlights. He laughs at your expression.

“I’ve been wanting to make a move on you since last semester,” he admits. “But I was kinda… discouraged? I guess? I feel like I’m the one who puts in too much effort all the time, with everything that I do. I wanted to see if maybe someone would do the same for me. I’m just lucky that it worked out in my favor.”

Your bottom lip juts out and you flip over to peck the tip of his nose tenderly. “Choi Chanhee, you’re extremely lucky. I almost gave up on you, like, a couple days ago.”

Chanhee’s laughter grows and he kisses you softly. “Well, I’m glad that you didn’t. Now I can take you on a real date to that space cafe. Not one that Kevin forced on us.”

“I like the sound of that.” You smile, cuddling into his side.

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alitheakorogane · 1 year

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Freedom's Protection: A Blasphemy or The Truth?

Summary: Venti's outburst shocks everyone, making the people of Mondstadt question everything they knew about their Archon.

This is the third part of Mondstadt's storyline for the Reader Protection Squad SAGAU series.

Note: There are instances of grammatical errors, please bear with me. Also, the entire layout was now changed and I placed a title on them so I could not be confused while I write the next chapters. It's still the same story though.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3 (current), 4, 5, 6, 7

"What if your dear Anemo Archon was also like them, an imposter who also steals someone's face?!"

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Everyone couldn't believe what the young bard was saying, especially those who are very devoted to Lord Barbatos. The Anemo Archon is also an imposter?

Bennett and Fischl who accompanied him looked at Venti with surprised looks on their faces, while Razor was confused about what happened. On the other hand, you were shocked at what the bard did, even though you had expected him to do something stupid after Eula's harsh statement regarding imposters.

To be honest, you can understand why the usual happy and mischievous bard suddenly snaps out and break down at everyone. Eula's statement may be intended for you but it also applies to Venti's situation, and her scathing words hit the Anemo Archon on a personal level. You guessed that not everyone knows his real story, not even his very devout followers in his church, as you had remembered that only the Traveler was the one who had truly opened up about his real feelings of loss by telling his story about his bard friend in his story quest.

They didn't know who he really is... because all knowledge that the Mondstadters knew about their beloved Archon is from secondary sources, from the words of other people, and not really from Venti himself.

They never knew how hard is to pretend to be someone he really isn't. You know it wasn't his choice to rule a nation, since Andrius had stepped down from being a suitable candidate but Venti had tried his best to fulfill the wishes of his beloved friend before he had died: for Mondstadt to be free.

Mondstadters from the past to the present saw his Archon persona in rose-colored glasses, portraying him as regal, poised, and hardworking as his people (they were also overworked because they thought they can emulate Lord Barbatos' 'hardworking' work ethic) who value the concept of freedom over his domain, not knowing that their Archon is actually a happy-go-lucky troublemaker who has the heart of gold, who really likes apples and Dandelion Wine to the point of breaking the records for most shots a Mondstadter can drink in one go, or how he likes to annoy people with his songs and pranks when he feels like it.

You had sympathized with him, as you and he are similar in some aspects. You always force a bright smile on your face and feel optimistic, even though there are times that you feel like you wanted to give up on everything. You can crack jokes over your so-called friends, laugh at the corniest punchlines, and put up some masks on other people, saying to them that you're okay even though it really isn't.

There is a reason why you loved playing Genshin Impact, it's not because of the waifus or husbandos or you just want to have fun and spend over nothing, but it was an escape from your loneliness and the reality. You feel loved when the game greeted you on your birthday before anyone can and was given you a digital cake even though you know it was coded to be like that. You feel happy when your favorite character had come home and when you listened to their voice lines where they said something good about you.

You think that someone took pity on you and whisk you away to the beautiful continent of Teyvat, but it seems that there's a mistake. The moment you were spat at by the same characters you really loved, you feel like you were really unloved by anyone no matter what world you've been thrown in. You're not suicidal, but at that moment, the urge to throw yourself off the cliff and unto the waters of Cider Lake to drown was very strong.

So when you met Bennett, Razor, and Fischl for the first time and they had befriended you no matter what others say something bad about you, you feel happy that someone had accepted you the way you are, and you wanna cry with tears of joy.

And when Venti, the actual Anemo Archon of Mondstadt, came to your rescue, you feel like you were lucky that someone out there still appreciated your existence. You silently thank whoever is above that gives you some mercy over this forsaken world.

Meanwhile, Barbara Pegg, the lovely Deaconess of the Church of Favonius, couldn't help but ponder over what the bard had said. You had noticed how she was not as defensive as the other nuns present, but you just brushed it off as she was just in shock. You were unfortunately wrong about your assumptions, for you underestimated her just because you know from her game appearances that she was oblivious to her Archon being literally meters away from her.

She may be a devout follower of the Anemo Archon, but as a Gunnhildr, she had access to a certain diary of one of their ancestors living at the time of Decarabian, along with her older sister Jean.

She remembered a passage regarding a wind elf and his human friend who died in the rebellion, after her mother, Frederica, had let her read the family heirloom after Barbara joined the church as a Deaconess.

"The young leader had unfortunately passed away by a stray arrow to the heart, the winds took away his young life so early. We were devastated to see the one who had awakened our hearts and fought for freedom die in the rebellion against Lord Decarabian, but no one grieves more than the Elf, who was with him till the end. The Elf has done the unthinkable after they had ascended into a god by Celestia: they had taken the form of his human friend so he could see the free world under the eyes of the Elf, who was now under the name of Barbatos, the new Anemo Archon of Mondstadt."

Imagine Barbara's surprise when she found out about that, she had never read this information in any Mondstadt history books or tomes she had come across. She knew that her ancestor had been part of the first Mondstadt rebellion against Lord Decarabian, so she could assume that it was a legitimate source.

At the time, she can't believe that Lord Barbatos' current form seen in the statues isn't his, to begin with, for it was based on his human friend who had died in the first rebellion. Today, she had doubts about the issue, especially when the bard had brought it up.

"If that's the case, then it's true that Lord Barbatos is technically an imposter, just like how Mr. Bard had said," she thought to herself, "But how he known about that if that information isn't in the books I have ever read about our Archon? Did I miss a book?"

She looked at her older sister who was still standing with Diluc with a troubled look in her eyes like she was pondering about something. She ever wondered if Jean still remembered the contents of the diary or knew something about Venti. As far as she was concerned, Venti knew the Honorary Knight, Jean, and DIluc personally due to their involvement during the Stormterror crisis.

She knew that Venti can summon Dvalin, one of the Four Winds, when they went to the Golden Apple Archipelago months ago. He is also the only one she can't heal with her Hydro Vision, the first time since she had been blessed by the gods. He had an angelic voice and an exceptional talent for playing the lyre, which to be honest, Barbara was slightly jealous of. And he just recently appeared on Mondstadt, which was coincidentally the time when Dvalin, known as Stormterror that time, had attacked Mondstadt.

Who really is Venti anyway?

"Blasphemy!" One of the nuns screamed as her fellow comrades and citizens agreed with her, "Lord Barbatos isn't an imposter, you blasphemous child. How dare you speak to the Archon that way?!"

"History books had never told the Anemo Archon's whole story!" Venti continued as he lowered his bow down, his right arm wiping the stray tears on his cheeks. You wanted to comfort him, to hug him in your arms, but the situation was so tense that you prefer not to, for now.

"You just knew him because of those books and those spoken stories that always praise him! And in every single one of them, he was portrayed as a divinity who committed no mistakes and made some exceptional deeds just because he is an Archon. You may think that he is perfect, but news flash people, he's not! He's as flawed as any other mortal out there! He should have saved his dear friend if he was as perfect and powerful as you think he was!"

He was glaring at the people in front of him, his aqua-green eyes glowing in intensity, "You had never known that he was originally a wind wisp who had taken the form of a dead friend to honor a wish. He had never saved his dear friend... if only that blasted wind wisp was a second too early, his friend wouldn't have died in the rebellion! That friend of his was the one who started the peak of the rebellion, who had sang songs of freedom, and guess what, no one remembers his name or even his sacrificial deeds!"

Venti closed his eyes as he continued speaking, a look of nostalgia etched in his eyes as he stared at the skies above, "Freedom was given to all of you due to a sacrifice of a human who was now forgotten by history, but his face... his young face now lived on under the facade of Lord Barbatos. Without the bard's final wish, Lord Barbatos would never make freedom his ideal for Mondstadt..."

"...He would never have been the weakest among the Seven Archons if he had never fulfilled his dear friend's dying wish."

"And how would you know about that? Why would you try to defame Anemo Archon Barsibato just to manipulate our minds about the imposter?!" Rosaria harshly interrogated Venti who just spewed some blasphemous information about their Archon, her polearm pointed at the bard.

The nuns of the Church of Favonius had deadpan looks on their faces over Rosaria's mistake over Lord Barbatos' name, while the citizens who believed in the Archon glared at Venti for his statement.

To their surprise, the young Anemo user smiled at them, but they could guess that he was actually smirking. He chuckled as he bowed his head, bangs covering his beautiful eyes. It left people confused and scared, especially the Knights and the Church nuns. They had never seen this side of the bard who they have just known to be as mischievous and happy-go-lucky all the time.

You felt chills when you see his smirk, as you had an image of a young-looking boy with angelic wings who looked at the people with a menacing smile, the bow on his hands was stained in blood. You then realized that you had seen a glimpse of Venti in his Archon form, and it was possible that it was him in the Khaenri'ah disaster 500 years ago!

His Elegy of the End bow was still on his hand as he dared to respond with a playful tone at the young nun, staring at her with a coldness that could rival someone with a Cryo Vision, as if he was scolding a young misbehaving child, "You could say that I am more than just a mere drunkard bard, Miss Rosaria."

"After all, how could I ever spread blasphemous words about myself?"

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

BADASS VENTI IS LIFE.

Well, this is Part 3 of the Reader Protection Squad series of one-shots, where someone is trying to protect the Reader from being pelted down by the Divine Creator's obsessive acolytes.

This one was also cut into two parts, so there is a possible Part 4 regarding Venti helping you off. (sigh) I think I will do a full-blown fanfic if I kept this up. I also write the Reader's inner thoughts, based on my experience. I couldn't help but shed a tear when I wrote this part.

To those who are new to my story, in this series, Venti is part of your protection squad in this Imposter AU concept, one of the two Archons who are going to help you. He is usually the mischaracterized character in SAGAU fics, and I wanted to do justice to my boi's character.

I made Barbara more perceptive than she was on canon, because why not? I made her a book enthusiast, she likes to read books in her free time just like her older sister (if she is not busy with her idol work, practice, healing, and church duties). Her possible favorite books are about Lord Barbatos and his deeds to Mondstadt.

And here's Rosaria and her mishaps with Venti's Archon name...🤣

-----

Taglist: @eimuros, @vvyeislazzy, @ansyistiredsstuff, @haru-tofuu, @coquettemaiden, @voidlesslove, @depressed-bitchy-demon, @yuukaaariyuuu, @g3n0dtt, @misswitchthewindborn, @lumpywolf, @c00kie-cat, @mulandi, @genshin-impacts-me, @bloop-booop

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jesswritesthat · 2 months

Text

Iwaizumi Hajime: Brothers’ Best Friend

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: 2.5k, fluff

• It can be hard when you catch feelings for your brother best friend, but the least you can do is be mature about it and turn it into a game.

Warnings: a few insults

>>>>——————————>

Iwaizumi Hajime had been 5 things to you over the years, some you'd regretted, many you'd denied, but there's 1 he'd finally accept.

———

He was your ‘brothers’ best friend.

Even from a young age, Iwaizumi Hajime had always captured your interest - most would often sway towards Oikawa but considering he was your older brother figure as your families were quite close, you saw quite enough of him already.

To anyone, your favouritism was evident, including to Oikawas' parents who regularly took you to collect Tōru from his Volleyball club practices.

Gingerly you walked past the child players who varied in height but were all taller than you, some recognising you and side stepping so you could locate your targets faster.

All while Tōrus older sister filmed the humorous ritual. You strolled toward the familiar pair, Oikawa immediely breaking into a blinding smile and picking you up with a prideful greeting. Iwaizumi halted beside his partner whilst he lifted you (there was only 2 years between you but at this age you'd yet to grow).

However, it was not your brother you wanted - no, he held you in his arms only for you pout and kick in his grasp.

Adhering to his childish personality, the cute Setter scoffed whilst mumbling curses as he passed you to his best friend who had his arms open already, used to this familiar favouritism behaviour - a smug look sent to his partner as you settled immediately with a content grin.

Happily you allowed Hajime to manoeuvre you to a piggy back position and carry you over to your amused family.

"This'll be good blackmail in the future y'know, I think for all of you~" Tōrus sister finally pressing stop on the recording, you supposed that at her age she had it out for her 'siblings'.

———

He was a crush.

A phase you'd told yourself, just some ridiculous school girl crush that'd pass eventually because above all else, he was a good friend.

"Hi (Y/n), Iwaizumi is here y'know." Oikawas sister said it with a playful mirth to her silky tone, knowing smirk situated on her face upon seeing you light up.

"Iwa?! Really~"

"That's the guy you talk about, on the high school team with your 'brother' right?"

"Yes! You have to me him -them- c'mon." Eagerly you dragged your friend into the kitchen where the two volleyball players were conversing.

"Hey guys."

"Awh! Chibi-chan, did you miss me? I know I'm amaz—"

Fluently you ducked under his open arms, flying straight into the unsuspecting but easily prepared Iwaizumi who only groaned in reply.

"Tch, not as amazing as Iwa-chan apparently."

"You've grown (Y/n), and who’s your friend?"

"Yeah, that's how life generally works Iwaizumi, oh and this Yuki."

"Nice to meet you. Oi, careful, you sound like Crappykawa and one of those is enough thanks." Iwaizumi chided after introductions, leaving you shaking your head but excited to ask your next question.

"How was the game? God I can't wait to start Aobajohsai next year! I'll finally be able to watch you guys for real."

"We won 2-0. Next year you can come to our practices too. We still need a manager and since Crappykawa is going to be Captain, he might put in a good word."

"Not likely, especially since you'll take Iwas' side in everything." Oikawa sneakily replied, giving you a childish face which you naturally returned.

"That's because he's usually right Tōru."

Once finishing your conversation, you left for your own home like originally planned with Yuki, also glad she’d finally met the two most important people in your life.

“Wow, you’re big brother figure is really good looking~”

“Ew no, did you even meet Iwaizumi? He’s so cool, he’s the arm wrestling champion at Aobajohsai.”

“You know we don’t stand a chance, they’ll be thirds years whilst we’re first years.” She’d awkwardly added, but you remained charismatically confident.

“You’re not thinking ahead, I’ll have a chance one day but until then there’s a bunch of cute guys in our year.”

“Yes, speaking of, I finally got the courage to speak to Tadashi-kun today~”

———

He was a protector.

"Back. Off." Every word was deadly punctuated, standing as a warning all on their own without needed the back up of Iwaizumis dangerous glare.

"Who are you?!" The pestered had glowered, having followed you from your friends’ party that night.

"Take another step and you'll find out."

"Iwaizumi, it's fine— I can handle this." You had every intention to, but Iwaizumi stood protectively in front of you and fingers twitching to punch this scoundrel if he dared make a move to touch you, it was best to leave it.

"Whatever.” Then he was gone, storming off in the other direction much to your joint relief.

“(Y/n) you need to be more careful.”

“I was careful! That’s why I messaged Oikawa the second I noticed him following me.” Hold on, why the hell was Iwaizumi here then?

“Creeps will target students walking alone, especially ones like you.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not and idiot an— what do you mean ‘like me’?”

“What? You’re, y’know— you’re ours!” He seemed stifled by his response but he couldn’t exactly tell you it’s because you were considered attractive.

"You can stop treating me like a baby, I'm 16 Hajime! I can take care of myself, besides..." There was brief hesitation but your emotions were too strong. "I need to get used to you and Tōru not being around, don't I?"

It was a low blow, you knew that, but had every right to be angry at both the world and him, especially with that bubbling feeling of betrayal being so fresh.

"What? So protecting you suddenly means I'm treating you like a child?"

"What else would it be?" You bit back again, knowing by this point you were only being hurtful.

"That I—" A pause.

"That I care about you dumbass, is that so hard to believe? I know you're growing up but that doesn't mean me -or Tōru- are gonna stop looking out for you just because we're on the other side of the world."

"Sure it doesn’t, I'm going home." Despite his words being full of honesty, you turned your back on him and started walking.

"I'll walk you."

"No, I'll walk myself thanks."

"It wasn't a request."

Eventually you arrived at Oikawas’ house, storming in and ditching your shoes in his porch - the pretty brunette heaving a knowing sigh. Oikawa would give you a minute, Iwa having now walked into the house moments after without a word, and that’s when Oikawa followed your path and hesitantly knocked on his own bedroom door for entry.

"Don't be mad at Iwa-chan."

"Yeah yeah 'he's only trying to look out for you' and 'Hajime is protective over people close to him', heard it all before Tōru." Came your muffled reply, face hidden in your arms on the setters bed.

"...Guess you have but uh, this is different."

"Tch."

"It's because he's going to miss you, our Ace won't ever admit that but it's true. Not seeing you and dealing with our chaos all the time will be weird for him. You were near the top of his list to tell once he’d made his decision about California y'know?" Tōru sat tentatively beside you, a reassuring hand patting your back in aid of comforting you.

"Doesn't make it hurt any less, finding out I'm not only losing my big brother but his best friend too."

"You're more upset about me though right?" There was a preganant pause, quite honestly you weren't exactly listening but it was enough for Oikawa to sit abruptly from the bed. "Right?!"

"Tōru!"

"Fine fine, I'm taking that as a yes, but anyway, Iwa-chan just wants to make sure you're gonna be okay in life before he leaves (Y/n)."

There was another silence, a quiet sob escaping you that you’d desperately tried to cover up.

"…Where were you? I needed you Tōru and you weren’t there…"

You felt him cease up, the pain laced your voice and he knew it was partly because it’ll be this way for the foreseeable future, but this time wasn’t his fault.

“Iwa-chan was here when I got your message, he was out the house before I could even put my shoes on. So I waited here for when you came back.” They really were the best team. “Anyway, I’ll prepare my sisters old room for you to stay tonight.”

Awkwardly you shuffled into the kitchen, finding the Ace situated at the table, already changed into a t-shirt and joggers he had here and tiredly brooding over some freshly made tea.

"Hey..." The quietened whisper from your lips surprised even you, let alone Hajime who looked up from his cup with a softening frown.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I um, I wanted to apologise. You were only trying to help and you even walked me home after I was a crappy friend so..."

"Anytime." There was a hanging silence again, hugging yourself a bit before the brunette awkwardly cleared his throat. "I uh, I understand you were upset, and butting in on the situation probably wasn't necessary so I'm sorry too. It just pissed me off."

"We're good then?"

"Yeah, we're good."

Pausing at the entrance, you sighed quietly - bare feet quickly tapping on the floor and before Hajime could check the origin you'd engulfed him from behind, arms wrapped around his chest and nose buried in the nape of his neck.

"I'll miss you too Hajime."

You heard his breath hitch, muscles tensing under your touch and tentative fingers gracing your own with a gently sigh.

Then you pulled away slightly, the same moment he'd looked back to you, gazes meeting for only a few sacred seconds like sharing a thousand words. Softly you smiled, both of you laughing as your fingers slipped from his figure and you'd walked back to the guest room. Only to find Oikawa sat expectantly on the bed waiting for you.

"You tell him?"

"Not quite. But I said enough."

———

He was a traitor.

Not a phase. It must be a familiarity thing then, Hajime had always been present in your life since you could remember. There wasn't a prolonged period of time when he hadn't been involved - at school, at home, with Oikawa, even on vacations, or via social media.

Maybe once he'd left, once he was no longer around, the constant familiarity wouldn't influence your feelings anymore.

For now though, when you were gifted a moment alone with him that’d likely be your last, you decided it couldn’t hurt to express your feelings. Calmly and nonchalantly.

"I like you Hajime."

"I like you too (Y/n)." He paused, soft and sentimental smile gracing his lips briefly as if resenting his next words. "But you know there's the age thing."

"I know, but I'm in it for the long game."

You could tell your confident statement caught him off guard, yes Iwaizumi knew the topic of conversation was to be handled with care but that didn’t mean he wasn’t perplexed by you.

"I don't want you to wait for me or anything, considering I'm heading to California."

"I had no intention of waiting, our paths will cross again. It's nice knowing you're out there, I'm out there, and we both know. That's enough." You shrugged, leaning back far too casually for the situation.

"Knowing we're both out in the world, I can play along with that."

"Besides, I'll win in the end Hajime."

"Oh yeah? What makes you so sure."

There was a playful smirk on your lips as you sat up a little straighter, hands clasped and head tilted in curiosity. "Well, date me now?"

"No way."

"Okay, then date me later?"

"..." Despite his snapping reply earlier, he now furrowed his brows in thought. "You don't even know what we'll being doing in the future."

"You're not saying no."

"..." A flicker of realisation when meeting your competitive gaze.

"See." You smirked. "That's what makes so sure."

"The long game huh?" Iwaizumi smiled "Count me in."

Oikawa joined you both then, stepping out onto the field and standing before your sitting figures.

"I'm still going to hate you though." A playful punch hitting Iwaizumis’ shoulder as you rose to your feet. "For leaving. I can't hide those feelings very well."

"I know, and it's okay. Hate me for as long as you need to."

“You two done? Let’s go~”

However it was the text later that night which left you more confused than ever.

[ Iwa: Finally. ]

[ (Y/n): Huh? ]

[ Iwa: I didn't give you an answer earlier, so that's it. ]

[ Iwa: Date you finally. ]

[ (Y/n): What does that mean? Eventually??? Later??? Iwaaaaa!!!! 😭 ]

[ Iwa: You're playing the long game remember? So you'll just have to wait I guess. Anyways tell Shittykawa he better be up early tomorrow, night (Y/n) x ]

[ (Y/n): Tōrus' right, you are mean! 💀 ]

———

He was a friend.

"Someone grew up good." Iwaizumi nodded to you in greeting when you’d shown up to Oikawas’ family home, yourself gladly embracing the former traitor.

"Iwa-chan! That's my little chibi-chan!" Oikawa was quick to chastise, even at your expense.

"Tōru I'm not so little anymore, I'm a grown assed human with a job and rent for crying out loud!"

"With a petty attitude to boot." Oikawa mocked, sticking his tongue at you like you were children again.

"Wonder who they got that from Crappykawa?"

"How dare you compare me to him Iwaizumi?! That's it, we're enemies now - prepare to lose."

"I just got back from California, can't we do things normally for once? Like unpack, then celebrate my graduation by going out for dinner together like old times?"

Yourself and Oikawa looked at each other with offended expressions, mirroring smirks etching onto your lips once you'd set your attention back on an irritated Iwa.

"Nope!" You devilishly grinned, Oikawa already holding up Mario Kart controllers as he finished off.

"We're going to my place to have a tournament, loser buys dinner!"

"Idiots."

“Woah, us ‘idiots’ threw you a graduation party. We’re the best friends ever, you should be thanking rather than insulting us y’know.” Oikawa pointedly corrected referring to the destination later tonight.

“Yeah, when Tōru got back from the airport, we even tried making you a cake!”

“Guys… thanks so much…”

“Iwa-chan, congratulations on your graduation.” Tōru proudly cemented, next you gladly followed. “And welcome home.”

———

He was the love of your life.

It was a beautiful summers night in Tokyo, and you'd come to congratulate Iwaizumi on his recent job offer as the Japanese Olympic Volleyball Teams fitness trainer.

You didn't think you'd be sitting beside him staring up at the stars though, a blissful warm breeze allowing you to truly feel the moment.

It seemed Iwaizumi was the same, content smile upon his face.

"It's nice to see you (Y/n), I'm glad you made it."

"Well it's easier when you don't have to catch a flight from the other side of the world." It was evident to whom you’d referred, his absence always being felt in some way.

"Heh, yeah I got to speak to him over video chat though."

"Ugh that means he didn't get the slaps he deserves." Was your witty reply, Iwaizumi laughing alongside you.

"Nah, but don't worry I managed to scold him for anything ridiculous he came out with."

"Like beating everyone?"

"Exactly. With the team I'm gonna train, I'll kick his ass." It amazed you, that even as best friends their rivalry continued into adulthood.

"I hope you both do well Hajime."

"Hm, I hope Japan and Argentina get to face one another most of all."

"You miss him."

"Yeah." A sentimental smile and Iwa turned to you. "And I miss you too."

The atmosphere once again settled into that of comfortable tranquility. You supposed there was only one last thing to say then.

"Well Iwaizumi Hajime, I have one last question for you tonight."

"I know, you've been waiting. So go ahead." It was a challenge, the brunette facing you with an expectant smirk that matched your own.

"Date me now?"

"Don't you remember? I said date you, finally."

"Finally?" You mimicked again, still not knowing what he’d meant by that phrase.

"Guess the long game is over now huh?" Iwaizumi shrugged nonchalantly, despite his mocking tone which only left you sarcastically retorting.

"Shut up asshole."

"It meant, I may not have been your first love (Y/n), but I have every intention of being your last." His sentiment surprised you, especially if this is the thought he had when typing that text all those years ago. "If that's okay with you obviously."

"It is Hajime, then it's your call."

"(Y/n), will you finally go on a date with me?"

"No." You'd said it proudly, Hajime only knowingly smirking. "You don't get to take the victory lap now. This is my game, and I asked you first. You owe me an answer."

"Ah man, it was worth a shot but the only true loss here is missing the chance to be with you so yeah."

"Don't get all sappy on me Hajime! It doesn't suit you."

"Hey! I said I'd date you (Y/n), aren't I supposed to be a little sentimental with that." Though he seemed confident, Iwaizumi hadn’t hidden his blush very well.

"You might want to make another call to Oikawa, I'm sure dating his 'Chibi-chan' will have him back here in no time. Don't you need his permission huh?"

"Already got it." Iwaizumi seemed smug about it, no doubt probably asking prior to this encounter since he already knew what you wanted to ask - but you had your own surprises.

"Funny, I did too."

"You asked his permission to date me?!"

"Duh, you're his best friend. I got permission before you even left for California~"Not explicitly, but you assumed Oikawa had always known how you felt.

"You really had me from the start didn't you?"

"Yeah, but you had me too Iwa.”

Iwaizumi Hajime was (and had been) your everything. But you were always his everything too.

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

#iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime imagine #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #anime x reader #anime imagine #iwaizumi scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu oneshot

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lolasimms · 1 year

Note

hcs about your married life with abby pls 🙇🏽‍♀️

wife abby headcanons pt.1

part 2 part 3

౨ৎ she’s an early bird and is almost always up at 6 am.

౨ৎ starts her morning off with cuddling you and then she’s off to the gym.

౨ৎ you wake up to an empty bed most mornings which usually you rant to her about.

౨ৎ your breakfast is usually simple, overnight oats and fruit, which she bullies you for.

౨ৎ she on the other hand insists on eating a high protein breakfast, for “gains”.

౨ৎ she’s a certified gym rat, which you find super hot.

౨ৎ when you’re really horny she takes pre-workout to make sure her stamina is up for you.

౨ৎ this usually leaves you saddle sore and aching for the next two days

౨ৎ she gets off on your overly domestic nature, especially when you take care of her.

౨ৎ if she’s got a cold or a throat infection you always pamper her and insist on feeding her soups and tea.

౨ৎ most weekends are spent lounging around the house as she’s not a very social person, neither are you.

౨ৎ some weekends are also spent at her father, Jerry’s place.

౨ৎ the three of you make dinners, play board games and he loves breaking out the photo album to embarrass her.

౨ৎ she earns a lot (she’s a doctor) so she’s always spoiling you.

౨ৎ loves to wine and dine you, especially when you both have time off work.

౨ৎ she can only cook staple meals, so she’s always impressed by the food you make for her.

౨ৎ she tends to overwork herself and usually comes back home tired.

౨ৎ despite the fact that she comes home exhausted she still insists on pleasing you.

୨୧

“Abs we shouldn’t, you just got off a 12 hour shift, you need to rest.” You press your wife but she’s ignoring you and pulling you into her.

“Doesn’t matter baby, I’m perfectly fine. Need to please my wife, you know what they say.” Both her hands are griping your thighs and pulling you towards the end of the bed.

“What do they say?” You question, accepting defeat, and allowing her to manhandle you.

“Happy wife, happy life.” In one quick motion, she’s tugged your pyjama shorts, along with your underwear off.

“What if you fall asleep mid eating pussy and I crush you to death?”

“Trust me baby, death by your pussy would probably be the best way for me to die.”

You tried scooching up toward the pillows , but Abby’s hands had a tight grip on your thighs. She wasn't going to let you get away. You were all the way at the end of bed now with her head in between your legs. She was tasting every bit of you, nibbling and marking you up. Your hands made their way to her hair, grabbing handfuls as her tongue swiped over your clit. All feelings of exhaustion from her taxing 12 hour shift were thrown out the window once she got to taste you, and you were fucking enjoying it.

You gasped. "Mmm...Abs..." Abby was loving every minute as she lapped you up. She pulled you closer, practically burying her face in your pussy. Your moans only added fuel to the fire burning inside of her. She was sucking your clit now and you could hear how wet you were for her. As she worked your cunt, two of her fingers were deep inside of you, fucking you for all you were worth and drawing a whimper from your throat. She was so fucking enthusiastic about eating your pussy and damn good at it too.

"Fuck, you taste so sweet." She panted, her breath like fire against your skin. "Gonna make you cum for me."

୨୧

౨ৎ The two of you love watching tv shows together, though she has a habit of not paying attention.

౨ৎ You’ll be well into a show and she’ll be wondering where a certain character went, when they got killed off like 5 episodes ago.

౨ৎ Falls asleep in your lap while you’re watching movies and shows because the poor thing works so hard.

౨ৎ Your name in her phone is ‘wifey’

౨ৎ Once again, she loves to spoil you, against your will of-course.

౨ৎ Buys you things if you look at them for even a second too long.

౨ৎ Her anniversary presents are always the best.

౨ৎ She insists that you don’t buy her stuff simply because you being her wife is enough.

౨ৎ On your 5 year wedding anniversary you open a box that has a pregnancy test in it, as you’d been discussing having children.

#female reader x abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #wife abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby anderson fic #reader x abby anderson

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serknighted · 9 months

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Danse & Hancock's parallels are eating my sanity slowly so by God I will write them here

So. Usually incredibly shy about posting my feelings about characters and my interpretations of them, but I don't think I can sit idly by without addressing 1. how much I love this post about Danse and how his story ties back to the isolation and loneliness of autism, and 2. how much I need more content between Hancock & Danse to exist, because my god sometimes I forget they hate each other in-game. (I strongly suggest you read the post mentioned & linked, they do a fantastic job framing Danse in a way I don't think I could fully articulate)

Danse & Hancock both have stories filled with themes of intense loneliness. Despite their hard work, effort, and prowess in the things they love, it doesn't take good sight to realize that neither of them are very well liked. It's not that they aren't respected, but whether it's Danse's all-too-formal approach to speaking, or Hancock's combination of hard drug use & almost constant overbearing presence (on top of years of slander from bigger cities, but we'll get into that), people see them as a tool of success and a good asset to have around, but not much of a friend, so to speak. Especially in Hancock's case, many people he is overly-affectionate with are often more annoyed by his presence than anything else (even if they do like him).

For Hancock, despite how much he claims to not relate to the isolation of the common ghoul, he's likely over-exaggerating his charisma in an effort to make himself more easily approachable, mostly for his own peace of mind rather than for others. While he sounds quite passive about things many others would react strongly to, I feel it's a combination of him having replaced a layer of how he truly feels with an element of sass on top of the drug use that makes all the trauma more easily bearable (to mixed effect).

One of his lines that has always struck me as conflicting with how he portrays himself is a common generic line he has while traveling with Sole Survivor, praising them for "living out the day" when most others could not. Hancock has seen so many people die to the brutal hands of the Commonwealth; whether it be Vic and his boys gunning down innocent drifters, seeing people succumb to the elements, or, in this case, simply not surviving their travels with him, Hancock seems to have a track record of never properly establishing proper bonds with others before they either die, or decide he's too overbearing to deal with further. He's one of those characters who desperately wants to have a deeper connection with those he loves, but he has consistently lost the chance to do so before he was ever ready, and so he chooses to fill the void with meaningless sexual relationships and one-night stands- anything to make him temporarily forget how much he hates himself and his almost comical lack of social understanding. It's a train of thought that I, as an autistic person, can really understand and relate to-- the desire to know people, but always feeling like no matter how you portrayed yourself, no one seems to want to be around you if you don't provide them with what they desire. It's caused him to deeply undervalue both how much he's done for people (since he believes its expected of him to constantly bend over backwards for the needs of others), and himself, all at the same time.

I don't think Danse fully recognizes how lonely he feels, a lot. He's been so heavily indoctrinated by the Brotherhood of Steel into believing that this is how he should be treated, that his work is for the betterment of humanity, that his sacrifice is a necessary one. The way he speaks almost carelessly about late brothers and sisters in arms makes me think really hard about how rooted this idea of only existing for the "greater good" is. Individuality is questionable & almost taboo, being different is outright abominable. It's the reason why the rhetoric of "Us vs. Them" works-- the BoS as a collective believe that they are doing good for all of humanity, and any outlier to that "perfect" formula is a threat not only to the BoS, but to everything they know. Danse is expected to bend over backwards for people, and no longer questions his loneliness or isolation, as he has all but given up his sense of self for what he believes is right. Another thing that I and many of my autistic friends relate to; a sense of justice so strong that it's overpowering. Like us, Danse is willing to sacrifice anything to do what's right... including himself.

Knowing this, it's easy to understand why he hates Hancock, and that backwards mindset is the reason Hancock hates him. It's an especially vicious cycle that constantly feeds into itself if unchecked, and Hancock knows that he alone cannot convince Danse to break that cycle. Hancock knows he can't beat Danse in a fight; all he has are his words, and logic is useless against an enemy that heeds to no truths. Even after Danse discovers his true nature... you can't expect him to unravel the years of constant reassurance that what he was taught was right in a single night. "Rome wasn't built in a day," and no one gets over their trauma so quickly, either. It's traumatic to have an explanation as to why people hate you. A catch-all reason to people's fear and distaste to you, that is also something you can never, ever change. Danse would sooner hate himself for what he is than accept those he used to murder without a second thought. It's the difficult reality of anyone attempting to unlearn painful conservative narratives; the shame & guilt of hurting others that are more similar to you than you ever wanted to know is sometimes more painful than realizing what you really are.

Hancock, albeit not even close to "recovered" from his mental woes, is much further along the path of acceptance to Danse, but not far enough away that he wouldn't understand where Danse is coming from. For so long, he sat idly by and watched people get hurt, even during his time in Diamond City. The constant conditioning to accept other people's pain as long as it wasn't happening to you still eats at his consciousness; just like Danse, he knows it was wrong to accept it, but the guilt makes it harder to deal with. He, of all people, would understand what it feels like to try so, so hard to fit in, to be normal and accepted, but never quite hit the mark of understanding where he fits in society. That's the reason he is the way he is now; his signature, his "Hancock," is to be as loud and out-of-place as possible-- a constant rebellion against what people expect him to be, a rebellion of oppression and unfair treatment. Danse's sheer existence is an involuntary rebellion of all BoS values, and even if Hancock would be hesitant to become close to Danse for a long while, I think he would be impressed by him, in the end, and more importantly, understand where he's coming from.

Their combined interest in both protecting the people they care about as well as the collective societies those people come from, as well as how nerdy they both are about US history... I think, eventually, they will realize how similar their lives were, how similar they are to each other, and maybe even find some comfort in knowing that they aren't alone in all of the waves of shame, guilt, and loneliness. That there is an overarching group of people who understand them, and that they do have a place in this world. I think once they recognize that similar traumas can manifest in polar opposite conditions (ones that they used to have a narrow, black-and-white outlook on), they'll also find that there is no real reason to hate each other anymore; the world has told them that they must hate each other, but they no longer have any need to listen.

TL;DR autistic Danse & Hancock ftw

#fallout 4 #john hancock #paladin danse #sorry for the long analysis im just rotting over them so hard #fo4 #i think they deserve the world #and maybe also therapy #fuck you todd howard for not finishing Danse's arc i cry #ARGHHH i hope people understand my vision...

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hwsing · 2 months

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nsfw alphabet for germany and/or prussia? thank you!!!!

germany nsfw alphabet

notes: 18+, reader is gender neutral and i don’t think genitalia is really mentioned. includes: germany (ludwig). as always, reblogs are appreciated!

cws: mostly top + dom! ludwig; cockwarming, power dynamics, restraints/bondage, piss kink, pet play, size difference, toys, overstim + edging, pet play. let me know if i forgot any through replies, anon or PMs. wc: about 2k words. not really proof read.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

king of overthinking so trust that he’s likely to go above and beyond, especially at first. it’s also partially because he’s pretty deep in kink culture, but not quite porn dead brained; instead, he’s like… really conscious of being mindful. he’s not really the type for pillow talk and he can get pretty flustered after sex, so he’s gonna busy himself with getting you what you need.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

for him, it’s probably his overall physique since we all know this madlad works out like the world is about to request him to singlehandedly carry it on his shoulders. as much as he can be self critical, he’s pretty proud of himself!! he likes the confidence he can have in his strength and health and all that good stuff.

on his partner’s, he’d probably say something like their smile in an almost bashful way, but in reality it’s going to be their chest/hips/thighs/butt; whichever catches his attention the most, really. he just feels a bit bad that he’s that perverted, but you’ll know by how much he pays attention to that spot. i think he’s a boob guy (regardless of size/gender) though

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

ludwig is nasty in a way that should be studied. for someone who is so neat, he is very messy with cum — *both* yours and his. the type to kiss you after you swallow his cum, to stuff his fingers into whatever hole he creamed into to ensure it doesn’t leak, make you suck his fingers after getting you off with his hand. he likes to cum in you, but he does like how demeaning it is to cum on your body

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

what isn’t a dirty secret of his would be easier to answer… everything is a dirty secret to him. he’s a private person, okay! god forbid you somehow find his private tab. regardless of if you’ve been dating for years or a short time, he’s so embarrassed that he’ll go red.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s not super experienced because 1. he has little to no game, ESPECIALLY with feminine presenting people and 2. he’s always been pretty busy. by modern day and age he’s by no means a virgin, though. he’s gotten around enough — but he still is pretty awkward and tense at first. knows what he’s doing, but can find it hard to actually go through with it is all. give him a second to hype himself up!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

anon stop it you’re embarrassing him with these questions :( LOL no but he’s pretty versatile, probably likes positions you’ve never even heard of but … maybe the seashell is his favourite. overall, likes positions where he can more or less go to town and put some weight on you, because even when bondage isn’t involved he’s inclined to pin you down.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

please do not make a joke while his dick and balls are out they’ll literally shiver up inside him and never come out again

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

when he has a partner he’s extremely well groomed. shaves by default but if his partner makes it known they like some bush he’ll grow some out

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

intimacy is something ludwig struggles with a bit. he worries he’s too awkward and just butchers it, completely ruining the mood; still, he definitely tries, especially when things are still just starting. he’s not very smooth with sweet words, and he knows he isn’t either. so, this intimacy is going to come from what he’s doing — the way his strong hands carefully hold you, how his lips kiss up your leg while he undresses you, the feeling of him holding your hands tightly while fucking you.

he does find cockwarming to be extremely intimate. ludwig does like it quite a bit; he’s not easily overstimulated either so he can handle it for a good period of time as well. he likes to big spoon for peak intimacy… holding you makes his heart almost give out

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

this isn’t terribly uncommon for ludwig. his sex drive is high, and he doesn’t get game often. he will use his own imagination, but only under the condition that something is inspiring him; for example, his crush or partner. otherwise, he has plenty of porn saved.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

we would be here all day if i said all of them. so lets just unpack a few

power dynamics: he kind of needs a sub/dom dynamic in the bedroom. he greatly prefers being the dom, but he can find it a bit hard to bring himself to actually act on his desires. and so, he really, really likes when you play up the submissive thing; the more pathetic you are, the more he’s gonna feel the urge to make you a mess. his mess though! he’s likely to manhandle you since he’s… probably stronger than you.

restraints: he’s not super picky with this one because as long as you’re at his mercy he’s satisfied but, he REALLY likes bondage benches. loves them actually. be warned because he’s gonna go to pound town with this one

piss kink: very into humiliation and he’s not above purposely making you piss yourself. the more embarrassed you are, the better, really; he’d entertain the idea of pissing on or in you as a punishment. would understand if you are not into this though because he is self aware enough to know it’s nasty

pet play: feel like this one is a given but anyways, he does like the kitty thing but he especially likes the puppy side so he can train and discipline you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere around his or your house/apartment. “risky” sex would spike his anxiety in ways that should not be apart his foreplay… overall prefers a bed but he’s not above fucking you bent over the counter or smushed up against the wallz

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

unfortunately for him, just about anything. he’s horribly down bad. the lingering scent of your perfume/cologne/etc after you leave is enough for him to get him stiff.

i would say his biggest turn on’s though are; times when your size difference (if there is one) is prominent, when you’re struggling physically with something (the small groans/moans/whimpers… his mind travels FAST), and if you wear makeup. he likes the idea of ruining it

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

this is hard because i struggle to imagine him having a big no other than, like, surprises/not respecting boundaries and things of that nature. he’s pretty open minded because he of all people has no room to judge…!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

here

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

prefers fast and rough for obvious reasons.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

does not like quickies. ludwig can see the appeal but… he’s only going to do it if he gets caught up in the moment enough to. not a common thing to expect from him

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

now you already know. he’s pretty open minded. the main times he’d be hesitant would be if the idea includes him bottoming or subbing, but he’s usually still down to at least try once

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he generally lasts a decent amount of time, but the first few times he sleeps with his partner he tends to take forever to cum because he gets SO nervous he cannot let himself. he prefers 2-3 rounds generally, but he does draw them out as much as he can. generally, he makes you cum at least twice before he does at all.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he’s easily one of the most into toys out of the cast in my opinion. he doesn’t like them on himself as much as he likes using them on you. he does have a handful, but will expand the collection with his own money if he discovers more online or his partner shows interest in a new one. i wrote a bit about this here

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

him being a sadist is well known i think 😭 he’s nervous to do it at first, as he is with everything, but once he feels comfortable prepare yourself because this man will not be your peace in the bedroom. whether it’s edging or overstim, making you get off on his boot or thigh, keeping you restrained with one of those fuck machines… he’s awfully creative.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

ludwig isn’t very loud and isn’t very talkative. unless he’s in enough of a headspace to degrade you anyways……. he groans quite a bit when he gets close but he’s not much of a screamer. even when he does talk during sex, it’s pretty much to the point and without many filler words. he does check in pretty often though, just to see how you’re doing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

gets a lot of dom drops/post nut clarity after particularly intense sessions but he’s very reluctant to share this. he just feels embarrassed/ashamed about reaching out for reassurance or comfort. it’s pretty easy to tell when he’s feeling like this though, he’ll be extremely quiet and have a tense look on his face while he goes extra with your aftercare while completely neglecting himself

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

now rarely do i give a man the credit of being well endowed but… i have to say that he is. i simply cannot picture him without a massive dick. i personally would guess around 8”, thick AND veiny; most certainly struggled to know what to do with it at first but he discovered the power of it soon enough!! actually kind of shy about it because he’s had a notable amount of experiences with a partner being iffy about how big he was. lmao

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

clearly pretty high. he’s also pretty well disciplined though, so it’s not enough to like.. take over his life or anything. ends up sexually frustrated often because of this… he has a poor habit of ignoring his needs

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

ludwig doesn’t usually fall asleep after sex unless it’s like just before his usual bed time. and even then, he probably will fall asleep after you since he’s busying himself with aftercare and whatnot. sleeps the best after getting to empty his balls once or twice though!

#sorry this one is a bit nasty #my in my defence so is he #my work #germany x reader #ludwig beilschmidt x reader #hetalia x reader #hetalia #aph germany #aph hetalia #hetalia hc #hetalia headcanons #hws hetalia #hws germany

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kasagia · 3 months

Text

Can't catch me now... pt. 2

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling xgrisha! reader Summary: The Hunger Games in Ravka. 12 districts. 12 tributes. 12 mentors. 11 young people die every year. 1 winner. Aleksander was a mentor to many. But only your face will haunt him for centuries. Inspired by: The Hunger Games. I changed the world of both of them a bit. Word Count: 4,4 k Taglist: @flostvs1508 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @aoi-targaryen @summersummoner-pat @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @msblacklupin Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist PART 1 ~•♤♤♤•~

"You look like death. Have you even slept an hour?" You shrug at Genya's question. The woman sighs and works on your face to make you presentable. "The general was furious. He's a good man, despite everything they say about him. You have to understand that... he didn't expect this turn of events, and his stoic attitude was violated. I swear, this is the second time I've seen him lose his cool. And I've been here since I was a child."

"When was the first time?" You ask curiously, not believing her for a moment. You couldn't trust anyone here. You could only count on yourself and no one else. You missed Alina a lot.

"I will tell you this with a complete twist. Anyway, if someone asks, you didn't know it from me. 40 years ago, in the Hunger Games, the General was... asked to be a mentor. Her name was Luda. She was brave and beautiful, with a good heart and a pure soul. She was a healer in her village. She volunteered. In exchange for her younger sister."

"And what happened? He scared her with his shadows because she was a vegetarian and didn't want to eat meat to get stronger?" You mock, as she is making final amendments to your look.

"She died." An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Genya was blindly combing your hair, obviously thinking about her. You could see from the look in her eyes that she must have been especially close to this tribute. "She was... close to the general. He had been mourning her death for a very long time. And I don't want to spread rumours, but the tribute who killed her and won the Hunger Games was found hanging in the forest near his home village. His family was soon convicted of conspiring against the crown and hanged in a more… spectacular way."

"I feel like you're not telling me this just to satisfy my curiosity." You guess as she finally pulls away from you.

You don't know what's worse, when she fixes your face with her strange power or when she looks at you intently, looking for something else to improve your appearance. You weren't used to caring THAT much about yourself. Because who would want to look at an orphan?

"I just want to warn you that… our choices don't necessarily affect only us." You roll your eyes at her attempt at intimidation. Of course. He couldn't make you do anything himself, so he sent his minions to convince you. Quite pathetic, like for the terrible Darkling, who everyone feared.

"I am an orphan. There's nothing he can take from me. I... I have nothing left to lose or to care about..." You say it quietly, rubbing your wrist with your hand. You try hard not to think about Alina and Mal. Your only family... all you have left after those you lost.

"And your life?"

"We're all going to die someday, Genya." Your soft whisper seals the uncomfortable silence.

You think about your parents and siblings—everyone you lost—and the life you could have had that fate ripped from you before you learned how to fight for yourself. You lost everything as a child. There's nothing left for you. At least nothing good.

"Here. You look amazing. There is only one thing missing." She says this with a smile and takes out a long, black coat with black and white embroidery from the closet. It's a kefta. A fucking kefta.

"What the hell is that?" You ask angrily, standing up from your chair and looking at the piece of clothing in utter disgust.

"The general ordered it especially for you. You are a Grisha. You are one of us, and you should present yourself as such." She says this and puts the kefta on the chair.

You walk up to it and run your hand over the material. You expected something rough—just like the general's character—and uncomfortable to wear, since the keftas protected Grisha from every blade and bullet, but this... was nothing like armor. It was soft and cozy. Like velvet. Nothing you may have experienced in your district.

"Black? Isn't that his colour?" You ask, trying to reassure yourself of how terrible this damn thing is.

"Merzost is closely associated with the Darkling bloodline in our culture, since he used it to create the fold. Consider it a… coincidental coincidence." You snort when you hear her explanation. If anything, it was a sign of belonging. The general's new toy. Freak of nature. What a pity he'll lose you before he can use you for the good of his fucking Grisha.

"Other people won't see it like that. You know this, so stop lying to me." The redhead sighs, running a hand through her hair.

"Just put it on. People need to know that the king broke his word to Grisha to force you to participate in the Hunger Games, breaking part of the covenant between us."

"This isn't my war to fight, Genya. Besides, I'm going to die in games anyway, so what's the difference?" Your response only enraged her more.

She didn't raise her voice, and you wouldn't have recognized her emotions unless you saw her hands tremble slightly before she placed them behind her back. You wonder how many times she has had to hide her true feelings.

"You have Merzost in your veins, the most powerful force you can draw from. Do you really want to give it all up? Lose the opportunity you have in front of you? Do you know how many of us have been waiting for you?" She asks with resentment in her voice, but you really don't want to argue with her.

You know it doesn't make sense because they are all here believing in some stupid children's story, a fairy tale that made you a savior in their eyes, and now, since you have finally arrived, you are supposed to fly around and pretend to be a hero you know you are not. As if you could do anything you wanted.

"I was dead long before I was chosen for The Hunger Games. Year after year I was only prolongs the inevitable. I am sorry, but that's the truth. Don't get your hopes up."

"I see that my favourite suicide is in good shape today." Your discussion is interrupted by the appearance of the Darkling. You sigh, rolling your eyes at him. You seriously considered throwing yourself at the spear of one of those ancient armored knights that decorated the halls of the palace. At least you wouldn't have to endure his presence any longer. "Are you rested? Fed?"

"Don't you have something else to do instead of keeping an eye on me? Or send your minions to do it for you? This is getting tiring and irritating." Genya gives you an offended look. She huffs, leaving the chambers as she gets a nod from the Darkling.

"I am your mentor. It's my duty to take care of you." He says, clasping his hands behind him once you're left alone. He looks at you carefully and takes a step towards you. This time, you don't step back but stare at him defiantly.

"Then it is with great pleasure that I would like to relieve you of this obligation." Your words only make him chuckle. He straightens a piece of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. His fingertips brush against your cheek, making you shiver. However, you do nothing to let him know how much his proximity bothers you.

"Oh, you won't make it. Only a king can do this. Do you like your kefta?" He asks, changing the subject. You turn your head towards the offending fabric still hanging on the chair.

"It looks like a floor rag." You say, not hiding your disgust. He chuckles darkly again. He takes the kefta in his hands and unfolds it, pretending to look at it carefully as he walks over to you again.

"Then Karamzin must be richer than I thought, if this is what your floor rags look like. Especially the orphanage."

"Have you been rummaging through my files? What for?" You ask in shock, trying to mask your fear. If he finds out about Alina and Mal… you don't want to have any more deaths on your conscience.

"Better put it on if you don't want to find out very soon." You decide to follow your better judgement instead of your pride and turn your back on him, letting him put on the hideous kefta. Surprisingly, the material hugs you perfectly. You feel warm and soft—the complete opposite of what you know. You gasp in shock as he reaches for his belt and pulls you towards him. You bump into his chest as he tightens the belt around your waist. "Good girl. Now, put your hand in the crook of my arm and smile nicely, and everything will turn out great today. And if you keep behaving as a good girl, you'll get dessert tonight."

"I'd rather gouge out my eyes and sew my mouth shut than be an obedient little doll that you can dress however you want and show everyone."

"I'd reconsider it if I were you. The chefs baked a chocolate cake today. With chocolate-covered cherries on top. Have you ever had a chance to eat something like it?" He smiles, almost mischievously, as he stands next to you, still waiting for you to follow his instructions.

"Son of a bitch." You mutter under your breath and he laughs. He must have been drunk. He couldn't be in such a good mood. Not him.

"That's actually very ture, my little wellspring." He says and leads you to a slaughter worse than the Hunger Games... he leads you to a party for the Games. Among the nobility. You shudder just thinking about this nightmare (not because he puts his bigger hand on yours).

"You have a very beautiful dress!" You force a fake smile on your lips when a noblewoman compliments you.

"Thank you." You say, sipping your glass of wine. The only good thing that happened to you at the party was alcohol. And even then, the Darkling tried to limit you to this one pleasure, making sure that you didn't drink too much.

Your head hurt from all the nonsense conversations with all these people who were only famous for being born into rich families. Terrible. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice several tributes also struggling to maintain their composure. At least you weren't the only one.

However, after you turned out to be Grisha, the rest of the tributes tended to avoid you. You knew from the beginning that you wouldn't have any friends among them, but it would be nice to have one friendly soul in this terrible place.

"I didn't think the people of District 12 would fit into our community so well, but you, darling, look absolutely perfect." You barely stop yourself from throwing the glass you're holding at her. Instead, you tighten your grip on him and smile politely at her, gritting your teeth in anger.

"I'm glad I can surprise you."

Fortunately, you don't have to talk to her anymore. The general approaches you quickly, noticing your tenseness, and with his natural grace, he places his hand on your waist, starting a conversation with a woman who turns out to be a close friend of the queen. Oops. It's better that he came to you, because you wouldn't apologise if you accidentally allowed Merzost to break free and turn her into a volcra.

As you stand next to them, as larger crowds of women begin to gather around you, you realize a terrible truth. The Darkling was your only support here. Him and Genya.

You flinch as he suddenly tightens his grip on your waist and guides you away from the group of noblewomen, who giggle as you both walk away. You allow yourself to roll your eyes at them.

"What the hell was that?" He asks you angrily, setting your glass down on the table. You automatically reach for it again, but he grabs your hand before you can take it and keeps it away from the alcohol.

"I was just about to ask you the same fucking thing." You respond in a defiant tone, glaring daggers at him. Your stomach was starting to growl, and the bastard wouldn't let you touch anything to eat until you fulfilled your end of the bargain and behaved yourself. As you and he can see, you didn't do very well.

"Don't grimace around them as if they were pouring salt into your open wounds." He says it angrily and lets go of your hand. He reaches for something from the buffet. You freeze when he hands you a tiny plate with some fruit. You lick your lips, staring at your food for a moment before looking back at him. "It's for avoiding causing a drama. Partly. Try harder, and I'll let you eat whatever you want."

"But that's what they do! Do you have any idea what it's like to have to stand there smiling and nodding your head while these snobs from the capital talk about how your people and the city are octopus and beneath them?!" You hiss so only he can hear it, but you take the plate of food from him anyway. God knows when you'll get something again.

"I'm Grisha. I know exactly what you are going through." You would laugh at him mockingly if you didn't have a mouth full of food. He looks at you disgusted, and you quickly get the hint and eat smaller portions.

"Please. You've been doing fine since the Hunger Games. At least your people don't have to die every year to the delight of a bunch of sadistic idiots with stuffed bras and fake hair." Your comment makes him bite his lip, but he still can't help but smile a little. Few people could make him laugh and laugh at the same time. As you can see, Merzost wasn't the only special thing about you.

However, your hostile look reminds him that you are in the middle of an argument, and it is his turn to present his argument. God, how much work he had to do with you. You will kill him before he can get you safely through the Hunger Games.

"But years ago we were hunted by all of you, and somehow I don't spit on every Ravkan and kill them for it."

"Because you didn't experience it. If you were there, you would act differently." You sound confident. He shakes his head, wondering how you would react to the truth. Although now he seems to be more interested in food than in anything he has to say. He had to finally feed you. His Merzost Holder couldn't go hungry. It's enough that you experienced hunger and poverty in District 12.

"You think?" He asks, setting your empty plate on the table and offering his hand to you. You look at him for a moment, confused by the sudden… change in his attitude.

"General?"

"You can dance, can't you?" He asks, taking your hand, and without waiting for your response, he leads you to the dance floor. The rest of the mentors have no such idea, so you both are closely watched by all the participants in the ball.

"A little." You say shyly, something he's experiencing from you for the first time. He smiles fondly at you, which, of course, you don't see, too embarrassed to look at anything other than your shoes. But others see. The general's small smile does not go unnoticed by his closest soldiers.

"I guess I have to work with that." He says this and gently lifts your chin to look at him. He places a hand on your waist, and the other holds yours in an iron, steady grip. "Eyes on me. Put your hand on my shoulder and try not to fall. Keep up with me, and everything will be fine."

All you can do is trust him, which you do with surprising ease for him. Somehow, he can't take his eyes off you. You looked gorgeous in the black kefta, especially with his symbol embroidered on the back—a little thing you didn't need to know yet. And so, looking at you, Aleksander can't help but wonder what it would be like if he met you under different circumstances. Maybe if he were younger, less experienced... if his mother's words didn't ring so loudly in his head every time he started to feel something akin to tenderness towards you. Maybe if he hadn't lost so many...

Meanwhile, you try to fight the strange feeling he gives you every time his skin touches yours. You feel a strange pull, a calling, and you realise how your power, the same one you tried to ignore and forget for so many years, comes to life under his touch. You hated it. And him. For trying to break down the walls that you put up for so long and so hard. For trying to make you the Grisha you hated. For making it so easy for you to sink into the arms of the Black Heretic ancestor.

And at the same time… it was nice to feel important for a change… even if just for a moment.

So you dance with him, agreeing to this little moment of truce between you two. Deciding that you would look for answers later as to why you felt so attached to him. And why every time he touched you you felt so… powerful.

"That was awful." You groan as you finally return to your chambers, with the Darkling by your side, of course.

He hasn't left you since that dance. He was always somewhere next to you as you talked with the nobility. You have gained several sponsors and the favour of important people in Os Alta. The Darkling was pleased. And you're exhausted.

"And wonderful. You did great, much better than I expected. The servants should bring our dinner soon." He says, sitting next to you on the couch, watching as you take off your kefta and throw it in the corner of the room. He bites his lip, deciding not to comment. He already expected a lot from you today. The manners lesson could have been taught another time.

"Our?" You ask surprised, not expecting him to stay longer than necessary.

"Do you mind?"

"Yes." You answer honestly and straight away, to which he just laughs.

"I wish I cared." He replies with a mischievous smile. You roll your eyes as you take off your shoes and try to pick any pins out of your hair. Genya seemed to enjoy tormenting you. There were definitely too many of them. "So a healer? Really?" He asks, referring to your last conversation. Someone asked you what you wanted to do before you got into The Hunger Games. You decided to answer truthfully once. Of course, you were laughed off and called a sweet, naive soul willing to help. You wanted to vomit on their polished, gold-plated shoes.

"Why not?" You ask angrily. He raises his hands defensively with a smirk, seeing how fed up you are with everything that happened today.

"It's rather… a thankless profession among the common people. Healers usually come to them when they are dying. Relieve suffering. They are the harbinger of death, almost like a reaper. Usually, they are not coming to actually extend their lives."

"So you must have had similar experiences." You scoff, making him think about it. This wasn't what you expected. You were expecting a rather harsh answer. Not a pensive, almost sad look. For a moment, you think that maybe he, too, could just be human. You shake your head. No. He was just one of them. He couldn't have any... human feelings or know the real pain.

"Painful but true. They don't get excited when they see me either." His whisper should make you change the subject, but after the terrible day he put you through, all you want to do is stick a pin in him where it hurts the most.

"I wonder why..." You start, but he cuts you off before you can finish.

"Don't mock. You were behaving so nicely. I prefer you to smile than spit acid."

"I wish I cared." You repeat his words from a while ago, trying to imitate his tone of voice. He rolls his eyes at you, but somehow you both do nothing more than make snide comments to each other. Taking advantage of the relatively quiet moment between you, you decide to ask him honestly. "What do you want from me?"

"To win." He replies simply, playing with the ring on his finger. He rolls it over on his finger, resting his chin on his hand as he looks at you intently. A shiver runs through you as the dark depths of his eyes meet yours. Undeterred by his short, evasive answer, you continue, knowing that this is your only chance to get something from him.

"And then what? You won't let me go back to my district." You say, knowing perfectly well that this is not an option for you. IF you win.

"You are right. You will live here. With Grisha. The people you belong to." You frown, dissatisfied with his answer. You weren't Grisha. You will never be. No matter how much he pushes and forces you to become one of them.

"Unless I die, which is very probably since I am not going to kill anyone on the arena." You remind him. He doesn't seem to take your promise seriously. You don't convince him. He will see for himself in the arena how serious you are about your decision.

"You won't die." He says it firmly, as if it were an obvious fact.

"How can you..."

"YOU WON'T!" He yells at you, standing up. You sit stoically in the same position as before, watching as the shadows in the corner of the room gather around him. He sighs and waves them away. "I've been waiting a long time for you, Y/N. You are the one of your kind and even more precious than a Sun Summoner. I won't see your dead body. No matter how much you want it."

"Leave." You say, too tired to argue with him, to tell him that you have no intention of being an obedient tool in his hands, that you won't be a weapon that he can use.

"That's my palace." Furious at his words, you get up to face him. You look at each other with pure hatred.

You are too tired to notice that a dark mass is beginning to form around your arms. But Aleksander sees it. And he watches with fascination as you let your powers slip through. Out of curiosity, he summons his shadows behind you. Just a small black cloud. However, for some reason, under the influence of your powers, the room is plunged into complete darkness. He looks at you in shock, realising that you had unknowingly empowered him by providing him with energy from Merzost. Unbelievable.

"And my room for a while, so prove to me you can sometimes be the nobel man everyone told me you are and leave me alone." You whisper; all you can see in the dark surrounding you are its irises, analysing you with undisguised fascination and admiration.

If only you trained, if you learned to control what was inside you... Aleksander wouldn't have to take anyone into account; he could just declare himself tsar, threatening the Ravkans to expand the fold if they didn't recognise Grisha's greatness. All he needed was you.

"As you wish." He says, deciding to let you win this fight. He takes your hand and holds it tight as he calls his shadows back to him. They come back in a second. One blink, and the darkness in the room disappears. Impossible. Even his mother didn't have that much control in her glory days. He wondered if you would have this effect only on him or on other Grisha as well. But no. He won't share this secret with anyone. Not yet. For now, you were only his little wellspring of power. "Tomorrow is the first day of your training. 7 A.M. Don't be late, or I will drag you out of your bed by myself." He says, letting go of your hand and walking towards the exit, trying hard not to steal glances at you. He would have to look into his grandfather's journals and old books. You were a real mystery. And he was just waiting to see what more you could do besides complete him perfectly.

"Go to hell." You mutter under your breath, rubbing the hand that was in his iron grip a few moments ago. You felt that stupid electric thrill again. It definitely had to have something to do with your strange connection. Darkling and Merzost Holder. You had to find out more about it. Maybe you need to start being nice to Genya after all...

"Excuse me?" He asks, turning around in the doorway when he hears the insult from you.

"Sleep well." You reply with a sweet, cynical smile. He shakes his head in amusement and decides to ignore your behavior. He'll give you a hard time at training tomorrow. See how far your skills range. With a little training, who knows... maybe you'll be able to bring people back from the dead.

Involuntarily, his thoughts turn to Luda. If he had you by his side earlier… no. He couldn't think about her. He knows that history would have turned out the same way. Because even if you had revealed yourself to him earlier, he would have been too busy with you to see anyone else.

Aleksander promises himself that he will do everything to prevent you from becoming his second Luda. He had enough ghosts of his past tormenting him at night. And you can't become another one of them. If necessary, I will kill these tributes myself. He will find a way. He always did.

Unless someone dares to interfere with his plans... just like last time. That's why, immediately after leaving your chambers, he goes to the only person he knows who will be able to protect you from his greatest enemy.

"Ulla?! Sister?! I have an offer you can't refuse!" He calls from the shore of the lake in the gardens of Little Palace.

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melanieph321 · 22 days

Note

If you can write for Kenan yildiz where he gets jealous because you’re friends with your ex

PS I like your work and I hope you have a good day😌🫶🏼

Ugh, love this! 😩

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS 2.0

(DAY 5)

Kenan Yildiz x Reader - The Perks Part 1/2

+18

Part 2

Enjoy!

You stared at the invitation in your hand, feeling your heart sinking into the depths of the school grounds. "Marco, what is this?"

He stood before you with a cheap smile and box of chocolates in his hands. "Don't play dumb Y/N, it's an invitation to prom, what else?"

"Why are you inviting me to prom when you know that I have a boyfriend?"

"Who, Kenan?" Marco laughed. It was hard to believe that you used date him once. Marco was technically your ex boyfriend, but sharing the same friend group made it nearly impossible for you to avoid him.

"Be real Y/N, Kenan is not coming to Prom. Juventus has a game on Saturday."

"He might make it." You hissed. Although you knew how important Juventus game against Napoli was. The perks of dating a professional football player.

Kenan wasn't like any other guy though. He was muture and very determined about his sport. You met him through family connections, and what started out as an innocent friendship quickly turned into something more. Kenan however, never finished high school. A tradition like prom probably had little significance to him.

"Okay, let's say he does make it...." Marco explained, "Don't you think it will ruin everything?"

"How so?"

"Well, you'll never get any time for yourself, let alone on the dance floor. People, especially the girls, are going to flock after him like wild chickens, meaning the two of you won't have a moment for yourself. Is that really what you want your biggest night in high school to be like?"

You thought about it and remembered the last time Kenan came to visit your school. Along with your parents, he came to watch your performance with the school orchestra. However, all hell had broken lose, with even faculty members jumping Kenan, asking him to sign their belongings. Where you came from in Italy everyone was a fan of Juventus. It was as simple as that.

"Fine." You nodded. "I'll be your date to the prom."

"Yes." Marco punshed the air with his fist.

"But don't get it twisted, we're only going as friends."

"And we'll have a great time together."

You rolled your eyes, accepting the chocolates that were handed to you.

"See you Saturday beautiful." Marco blew you a kiss before running off. He was such a kid. But he did have a point about taking you to prom. Question was, how would your boyfriend feel about it?

Instead of going home that afternoon you went straight to Kenan's house. However, his car wasn't in the driveway when you arrived, meaning he had yet returned home from training. Instead you were greeted by the maid, Rita, who made you a snack as you waited.

After a long day of school you ended up falling asleep on Kenan's couch, only to be woken up by wett kisses serenading your face.

"Stop it." You muttered.

A chuckle. "Why? You look so cute when you sleep."

"Kenan?" Your eyes flung open.

He smiled down at you. "I didn't know that you were coming over. I would've picked up some food on my way here."

"No need." You sat up, rubbing your tired eyes. "Rita made me your favorite..."

"Kisir?"

"It was delicious."

"You little..."

Kenan threw himself over the couch. You were pinned down with your arms above your head as his weight fell on top of you.

"Say you're sorry."

"No."

"Say your sorry for eating my Kisir."

"Never."

You squealed as lips targeted your neck, searching for your tickle spot.

"Kenan."

"Say your sorry."

He continued to trace the kisses downwards, one had letting go of your pinned arms.

"Kenan, please." You giggled. Your laughter quickly turned to soft moans as Kenan's free hand slipped down your skirt, snaking it's way between your trembling thighs.

"Kenan."

"Relax." He whispered. "I'll make you feel good baby."

Although it felt good, really good. It was not what you came here for.

"Kenan, we need to talk."

It was the panic in your voice that made him stop. He sat up, cheeks flushed. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" You pushed off your elbows. "Of course not, no."

"T...then why did you want me to stop?" The worry in his eyes was heartbreaking.

"Beacause..." You sighed, never having imagine how hard it would be to confess to him. "I have something to tell tell you. It's the reason why I'm here, not to..."

A moment of clearity appeared on his face. "Right..." He coughed. "Shoot...I guess."

He sat back on the couch, stretching for your legs to rest in his lap. "What would you like to tell me?"

"Well..." Where to begin? "I told you that my high school prom is coming up...."

"The party?"

"Yes, the party." You nodded. "With all of my classmates.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Sounds like fun."

"And it's gonna be. It's just that..." You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "...Marco asked me to be his date and I said yes."

"Marco, as in your ex boyfriend Marco?"

"Yes, Marco Lazzarini."

"Okay, but why would you want to go to prom with that fool?"

"Kenan."

"He is though, a fool. You told me so yourself."

"Yes, but he's also one of my closest friends, ergo, I'm going to prom with my friend."

"Your ex boy-friend."

You legs fell as Kenan stood. He was clearly upset.

"Kenan, you know I would've asked you to go with me."

"So why didn't you?"

"What do you mean, Juventus is playing Napoli on Saturday, remember?"

He stiffened. "It's this Saturday?"

"Yes." You sighed, finally getting your point across."

"S...so you're only going with Marco because I'm not able to?"

You nodded. "That and other things?"

"Other things?"

You thought about what Marco said, how Kenan coming to Prom would ruin things.

"It's better this way." You nodded. "People would have bothered us if you came with me to prom."

Kenan frowned. "So that's it? I'm a burden to you?"

"What, no."

"Sounds like it."

"What, no Kenan? That's not what I meant and you know that."

"That's what it sounded like to me."

"Kenan, you got it all wrong."

He shook his head. "Nah, if you want to go to prom, go. I hope you and Marco Lazzarini have a great time together."

"Kenan?" His gaze, his tone. It was all spiteful.

"You heard me Y/N, go! I have to rest anyway. "

It felt like a shot to the head. You stood from the couch, your body trembling like noodles. You left Kenan's house with a lump in your throat soon replaced by hushed sobbing as you made your way home.

Part 2

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football angst #kenan yildiz #juventus #italy

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yesimwriting · 10 months

Note

Hi! You asked us if you should keep the tension or let the bubble pop and all I have to say is KEEP YHR TENSION. 1. It does seem more realistic bc it doesn’t seem like the reader is the kind of person who would do that to her friends, and 2. The casually intimacy they all display with the bubbling tension of something more constantly keeps me going on the hard days, I NEED IT‼️ Like desperately (im so normal about this fic and is in no way unhealthy attached to it, why’d you ask?🙂*eye twitch*/j kinda) this actually got me thinking I wonder if other people ever notice how casually intimate they are? Like Stu’s naturally touchy but the way he dotes on her and the way Billy is just different from normal Billy when he’s with her,like not even just Randy, tate, and sid like other people who have known them for a while but they aren’t friends, like aquatints I’d love to see that

I’m sorry this spiraled, anyways all im saying is i personally love the tension, I love this story and I love you and you’re brilliance *MWAH <3* sorry for any spelling mistakes I was kinda rushing

a/n this ask is so sweet!! <3 also love the chance to expand on the final girl universe!!

i love this ask especially bc i feel like billy and stu have gotten so relaxed around final girl fic y/n that she probably just thinks they're like that and doesn't pick up on anyone finding it different 😭

the fic under the cut is in the final girl fic universe but it isn't a part of the main fic so it can be read as a stand alone

i think all the context needed is in the ask :) anyway here are some moments that made the people around billy, stu, and y/n raise their eyebrows a little 😭

----

"Billy." That's all it takes to snap him out of sludgy version of auto pilot he lets take over on days like this. Days that drag on in their mundaneness in a way that makes it hard for him to keep up the version of himself he's crafted for public display.

He turns his head, a strange type of fondness pinching his chest a little harder than usual thanks to the fact that you've saved him from whatever the peaked-in-high-school-quarterback-in-the-making was droning on about. Some party Billy would dip out of at the last minute or a recap of his last game.

You're smiling at him, casual but warm. He can take your appearance in more openly now than he did this morning when you were rushing to class. You're in a tank top that's a little low cut, paired with a cardigan that seems thin for today's weather. You're also wearing a skirt that's short enough to make him wish he had insisted on picking you up this morning instead of letting you walk.

Maybe he could get you to agree to a ride home. He could suggest it casually, bring up the idea of getting something to eat after school. Today's your least favorite lunch day, so it'd be an even easier sell than usual.

"Hey," he finally says when you're close enough, keeping his tone indifferent.

You stop farther than usual, eyes darting towards the walking varsity letter. It's a shift in attention that has the potential to jab at him, but the stiffness in your demeanor keeps Billy from spiraling in that direction.

"Uh...guess what?" A rhetorical question, probably an attempt to keep yourself from seeming too excited in front of the intruder. "Ms. Johnson paired us up for group projects today and this time she was a lot less mean to me...so that's cool."

Billy can almost feel the details that he's not getting because you're not alone. It's enough to make his apathetic feelings about the unwanted third party take on a violent tinge.

He wants to hear you talk more than usual today because it forces him to be present. It makes the aggravating need for patience go down easier. "So no more cheeto fingers?"

For a brief second, Billy's feels the comment in his chest. A call back to a joke you had only made a few times awhile ago. There's a chance you won't remember. A chance he remembers more than--you laugh, it comes out quick and clearly takes you by surprise.

You clamp your mouth shut, eyes glancing to the left again. "No more cheeto fingers on my notes or on my final project. I got paired with Stephanie McDonald, who I don't know for sure won't do the same thing, but she gave me a hair tie during PE one time so she doesn't seem the type."

Billy makes a mental note of the name, not being able to recall anything specific about anyone named Stephanie, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know her. It's Woodsboro, even if he's never met her he'll be able to find out something if he needs to. "Classy."

You tilt your head, eyes briefly squinting in that way that means you're trying to decide if he's teasing you or not. "You might be making fun of me, but she didn't even let me give it back."

"Not making fun of you." He shakes his head once, keeping his expression innocent, silently promising that he could never.

"Nah, that seems nice." A new voice that has you angling your body closer to the lockers. Billy fights the instinct to glare, wondering why he didn't give the guy a reason to leave as soon as he saw you. "Johnson's AP history, right?"

You nod instinctually, a small dip of your chin Billy can't fully read. "Yeah."

Billy knows the guy well enough, but they're not exactly friends. The guy's name is somewhere in Billy's head. After a second of thinking, all he can come up with is that it probably starts with a D. Damian? Or is Damian the other football player that's in his math class and always nods at Billy in the hallway?

"Cool," varsity jacket says it in a way that makes the word feel void of its typical meaning. Billy isn't sure where he's going with it, can't remember if he's one of those self proclaimed jocks that use high school as a four year power trip or just a guy that likes football. "You tutor?" The guy tilts his head, Billy presses his nails into the skin of his palm to resist the urge to step closer to you. "'Cause I wouldn't mind learning a thing or two from you."

The blatant line is finished with a bit of a laugh. Billy wants to role his eyes--a cop out in case you reject him. A built in safety net that makes it seem like he's almost making fun of you so he can laugh off your reaction if you don't instantly drop to his feet.

Your eyebrows draw together and even though your lips are neutrally set, something about your eyes makes it feel like you're frowning. Anger or annoyance for the sake of someone else is rare, Billy doesn't know how to handle the spike of defensiveness he feels. He's used to passiveness, never caring about who's messed with.

"Ignore him," the words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, "He has a hard enough time keeping his GPA high enough to not get benched."

Billy doesn't know how factual that dig was, but the guy's face falls enough for Billy to assume his guess was accurate enough. The satisfaction of being right is nothing compared to what he feels when he looks at you.

Your lips are still pressed together, now in a way that's more amused than sad and your eyes are wide. The comment wasn't the kind of insult that Billy finds particularly cruel or hurtful but he knew you'd find it biting. Your reaction's enough to ease the tightening feeling in his chest without fully alleviating it. He needs to get you away before the guy says something else and more of Billy's control slips.

"You seen Stu?"

Billy knows the answer. "Yeah, this morning before homeroom." You stand a little straighter, one hand gripping the strap of your backpack. "His next class is next to mine, so I'll probably see him again in a second, why?"

"Good," he mumbles, reaching into his locker and grabbing a random notebook, "Can you give his notes back to him? He needs them back before fifth period and I missed him this morning."

Not true in the slightest, Billy knows Stu will go with it anyway. "Sure." You take the notebook, fingers brushing against his. "I'll go find him. See you later."

Billy nods as you turn away, "See you."

You're now gone. The guy who can't take a hint is still there. Maybe he's waiting for some kind of apology or explanation. Billy's turning on him does seem random considering that most of their conversation has revolved around Billy placidly agreeing to whatever. Instead of bringing anything up, varsity letter laughs. Billy raises his eyebrows, silently asking what that's about.

"Look, man, I get it, she's cute." That heavy feeling that Billy's always struggling to work with rises. The dark feeling twists its way around his lungs, making it hard to breathe without giving into impulse. "But she's so...nice and school...y." Cute, nice, and school-y. Those are the adjectives he's using to describe you. Billy was right to assume his grades are suffering. "It'd be like hooking up with a middle school try hard. Not worth whatever you're putting on."

The anger grows in density, a physical force expanding in his chest in a way that borders on painful. Rationality attempts to lighten the pressure, reminding him that it's a good thing this guy doesn't want anything to do with you. Logic tries to convince him that his focus should be on hardening himself, on making this guy and everyone else think that you're just another friend to him and that he's fully committed to Sidney.

Billy shuts his locker, harder than he meant to. "Good thing she'd never fuck you then."

The last of his patience and civility has been scorched, leaving nothing but bitter ash in its place. Billy walks away, already trying to think of an excuse to find you and Stu.

----

Stu turns angles his head to the side, just enough to look at you without really looking. You're content, watching some trailer with a measured level of investment. He focuses on that as you absentmindedly extend a hand to grab a few pieces of popcorn from the bag that he's still holding.

You're happy, he's here with you, that should be enough. It's no one's fault that more people that both of you know are here than he expected. That's the hard part of Woodsboro, one slip in front of the wrong person and the rumor mill will have an exaggerated version of events spread to over half the school by the next day. The guy that glommed onto Stu the second he noticed him in the theatre definitely falls into the category of wrong person.

Jacob whatever-his-last-name-is is a try hard. He's been searching for some kind of in, some kind of leverage on anyone that seems even slightly cooler than him since middle school. This need to be bigger and better has forced him into a permanent act that even good old, 'high school stereotypes are bullshit' Randy finds off putting.

You hadn't looked particularly bothered when Jacob stood up and waved Stu over, forcing the two of you to sit closer to the center of the theatre than Stu wanted. After realizing that the screening he had expected to be empty on a Saturday afternoon was crowded, Stu wanted to sit towards the back. It was a strategic goal, it would have given him the permission to be a little more openly touchy.

Stu had to actively focus on not holding it against you. You didn't complain or give any indication of feeling ambushed because you're nice to a point of fault.

"What'd you think of that one?" Stu shrinks down in an attempt to make whispering to you easier.

Your eyes shift away from the screen and towards him. "Hm..." You're debating, analyzing, "Not as good as the one before, but it doesn't look bad." You reach forward, taking another piece of popcorn and popping it into your mouth. "You?"

Honestly, Stu had been more focused on you than the trailers, but this last one had felt like a flat attempt to balance out horror with something artsy. But the chance to get to you is more appealing than just bashing a movie with a title he can't remember. "This one is so much better than the last one."

You snap your head away from the screen. "No." He presses his lips together to keep from grinning. What do you mean 'no'? You asked for an opinion. "You just want to start an argument."

He lets out a breath that's meant to take the place of a laugh. Is he getting that predictable? That transparent? "I never want to fight with you." You narrow your eyes, skeptical. "If Billy was here, he'd agree with me."

Your lips pull together in what's almost a pout. For a second, you're quiet, one hand coming to your opposite arm, smoothing the exposed skin quickly, like you're trying to keep warm. "He wouldn't and you know it."

"Okay," Stu's voice is suspiciously innocent, "We'll call him when he gets back from that thing with his dad."

Stu knows that Billy's dad tends to keep him out until late on weekend trips to the boat. When it gets too late to fish, he likes to keep them out on the water, spewing bullshit about Billy's mom because Billy can't escape.

"What are we going to do? Describe the movies over the phone or...?"

He raises an eyebrow, shrugging and letting his shoulder bump into yours, "Sounds like you're scared."

You grin, adjusting in your seat to make it easier to cross your arms. "Fine. If it's gonna be like that, we'll call him."

You're cold. You have to be. "Told you to bring a jacket," he sighs, already unzipping his hoodie.

"I'm fine, it's--" Too late. The jacket's already off and only somewhat awkwardly being pushed onto your lap. You touch one of the sleeves, oblivious to the way Stu struggles to look at you. "C'mon, Stu, now you'll be cold."

It's said so softly, so earnestly, Stu has to fight the urge to squirm. He can never tell if the nervous energy he feels makes him want to draw you in closer or force you away.

He ignores the touch of warmth rushing to his face. "I'm good." Stu shakes his head once, almost dismissively. "Run hot," he mumbles, finally glancing at you before nudging you with his elbow, "You know that."

You roll your eyes, smiling more than you mean to as you shrug on the jacket. The fabric is warm and criminally soft. "Totally." He'd call you out on your sarcasm, but you're already pulling on the jacket. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom."

"Sure you don't want to pick up some twizzlers before the movie starts?" You pause for a second too long and Stu knows that the suggestion has hit. Your eyes had lingered on the red plastic while buying tickets even though you insisted you didn't want them after accepting the fact that Stu wasn't going to let you pay for anything.

Scratching the back of your wrist, you give in with a sigh. "Okay." You start reaching for your purse. "I'll grab some." Stu reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out some cash. "Stu."

"What?" He already knows where this is going. You're always trying to pay your own way. Every once in awhile, he lets you win just so that he can justify buying you something else. This is one of those things he probably should let go, but the additional shadow has already downed his mood. "I want them more than you do."

You sigh, pulling your purse onto your lap. "I have twizzler money."

"Oh, I'm sure, but my dad left me a bunch of cash before his latest trip and you're too pretty to buy your own twizzlers." Your resolve is cracking, like you often do whenever Stu mentions his parents. "C'mon, get me some milk duds, too."

Another sigh, the sound sharper as you let go of your purse. "You are so annoying." Stu smiles at the lack of bite in your tone as you stand, finally accepting the cash and putting it into the jacket's pocket.

"You love me, I keep you supplied in twizzlers."

You gasp, jaw dropping in offense. "Asshole."

He laugh as you turn away, "Remember the milk duds."

You glare, passive aggressively setting your bag on his lap. Stu takes it, adjusting his hold on it comfortably as you walk down the aisle.

"That's a fun thing you've got going there."

Stu can feel himself immediately tense even though Jacob's comment should feel innocent enough. There's just something about the way he says it, the hint of an edge implying more. Stu should be bothered because Jacob's the kind of guy who could turn this into a story for Tatum because he wants to have something over Stu. Instead, Stu's feeling defensive over Jacob looking at you like that.

Stu shrugs, "It's just Y/n."

Jacob's eyes briefly leave the screen before refocusing. "That was friendly even by your standards."

Feeling even more defensive over you and the way he acts around you, Stu sits up straighter. "We're friends."

"Yeah," Jacob concedes, amusement in his voice that Stu doesn't quite get, "And she's turning you into a softie."

That hits him in a different way. Sure, Stu's nice to you, nicer than he is to some guy that doesn't get that no one likes him. Stu can also admit that he's touchy with you and likes taking any excuse to be close to you. But he's not soft about it.

"What?"

Jacob laughs, the sound restrained, like he's scared he'll forget where he is and give in fully. "You're cold, here's my jacket."

Stu scoffs. That wasn't--you're--whatever, it's not like Stu cares about what Jacob thinks. He'll do what he wants, treat you however he feels like. You're the only one that comes close to getting him outside of Billy, Jacob could never get that.

"Whatever, man." Stu mumbles, hoping that you'll come back before he can get too caught in his own head. The lack of aggression in his own comment surprised him and he's not sure how much longer he'll be able to keep it up.

Another preview begins to play on the screen and for a brief second, it feels like that might be the end of the conversation. "If my friends looked like that, I wouldn't mind acting like that either."

Stu tightens his grip on the arm rest. "Maybe if you didn't make everything a thing, you'd have some."

"You're the one holding her purse," Jacob mumbles, attention turning back to the screen as if that proved something.

Stu's knuckles strain white. There's nothing sensitive about the way he feels about you. It's not Stu's fault he can't pursue right now the way he wants to, and if this asshole knew half the stuff you let him get away with he wouldn't be so smug. "Fuck off."

Maybe the comment could have been played off if Stu's tone had been lighter, more relaxed. But he didn't. It landed with the same intensity a threat would, and Stu's not completely sure he didn't mean it that way.

Soft. Hard to call someone that's pulling out your insides soft. He'd have to wait for Billy to get back, talk the idea up to him and explain why someone they've tolerated on and off since middle school deserves a call. It'd be worth it, though, because should they really leave someone that talks about you like that? Why shouldn't Stu treat you in a way that's totally normal?

"Hey," you whisper, slipping back into your seat, "Guess who got the last box of milk duds." Stu's attention shifts to you, that bloody itch becoming a lot more bearable as you smile a him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he eases, "Commercials are just getting worse."

You stop tearing into the top of the box enough to look at Stu and wrinkle your nose. "I feel you." You shake out a few pieces of chocolate into your cupped palm. Stu expects you to take them, but you don't. You just extend both hands, the box and the candy you had gotten out. When Stu doesn't react, you prompt him, "Here."

Stu moves his hand, letting you spill them into his palm, the edge of your pinky briefly resting against his. The gesture is so gentle he almost feels like he's being suffocated by it. Stu takes his hand back silently. If you notice the change in his demeanor, you don't comment on it. Instead, you just take your bag back and hand him the unopened pack of twizzlers and box.

The latest commercial comes to an end and the screen fades to the start of the opening credits. "Okay," you whisper, "Last chance to predict if this movie's going to be good or not."

"I picked it," Stu says, moving his hand enough to have the milk duds roll into each other, "Why would I think that it's bad?" He's not acting normal enough, he can feel it. "Why would you come if you think it'd be bad?" A weak question, considering that Stu knows sometimes you purposefully watch the worst movies you can find for entertainment.

You don't point out that sometimes trashy movies are worth the suffering, you just shrug. "I don't know, I kinda just wanted to hang out with you."

Something in Stu's chest cracks. His face feels warmer than it did a second ago. He's not one to feel mushy or look into tone the way Billy does from time to time, but you had said it so innocently.

"Aw," he hums, finally coming back to himself, "You like me."

"Shut up," your response is immediate, "Movie's starting."

He leans down, placing a hand over the one you're laying on the arm rest. "You like me."

You roll your eyes, "Give me a twizzler."

----

He knew. Even when Stu was still insisting that they were capable of keeping it together enough to keep the circle of people small, Billy knew that the night would turn into a party.

Billy's annoyed and slowly becoming genuinely irritated thanks to the beer and pot mixing together on an empty stomach and the drowsiness that came for him with no warning. Everything feels louder now, heavier.

He shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose harder than he should. Another 20 minutes, half an hour tops, and he'll get Stu to start shutting it all down.

The only good thing about nights like these is that you crash with them. You always choose to sober up at Stu's even though your mom doesn't seem like a hard ass when it comes to drinking. You still don't want her or your practical step dad seeing you drunk and you can't help that other people are smoking, which is something you've made clear your mom would kill you over.

It'll take some time getting you into bed. Unless you're drunk enough, you'll offer to sleep on the couch, like the three of you haven't justified sleepovers before. Sometimes drunk you has a tendency to get a second wind out of nowhere. If you get all hyper on him then it'll take even longer.

"Billy!" He opens his eyes and you're there.

He smiles easily, watching as you walk towards him. "Hey."

You stretch out an arm slowly, open palm gently pushing his arm. There's something sluggish about the movement and something else in the way you nearly miss him all together. Are you that drunk? Stu said he'd watch your drinks.

"Hay...is for horses," you state blankly, almost like some external force had possessed you to get the thought out coherently. And then you burst into a fit of tired giggles.

Billy presses his lips together. He knows you, knows how you get when you're not handling your alcohol. This isn't exactly that. It's more like you at the beginning of...

Ugh. You didn't--Stu didn't--With a sigh, Billy grabs your arm and glances around the room. Everyone's caught up in their world, and even though Sid's around here somewhere, there's nothing inherently suspicious about Billy checking on you. Especially while you're like this.

Still, better safe than sorry when Billy's not in the mood for self control. He tugs you forward, you follow as he leads you two to a nearby corner. You barely protest when Billy angles you so that your back's against the wall.

Billy squeezes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your head so that you have to look him in the eye.

"Hey--" You mumble, protesting a second too late, "Oh, I just," you laugh, "--I said the horse thing."

Great. Your eyes are tinged red and considering the fact that Billy saw you take a few shots earlier...

He told you at the start of the night to pick one, and the easy decision for everyone had been for you to stick with alcohol. Drunk you can handle crowds and the general party atmosphere. High you is clingy and easily startled and usually more complicated to deal with.

Billy watches you intently. It only takes you a second to still in his hold, staring at him in a way that makes it harder to keep his edge. "You're high." It's not an accusation, it's a statement. "And drunk."

Your eyebrows pinch together briefly. It'd be easy to lie for the sake of it. "Not high," you defend weakly, "I smoked a little, but not--it wasn't that--I'm good. Not high."

He sighs, letting go of your face. "I told you to stick to one."

"You and Stu smoke and drink at the same time all the time." Billy just stares blankly. It's not a strong defense, but it's all you have. "'S'not a big deal."

Not a big deal now. Just wait until later when it's hitting you harder and tomorrow morning, when you're hungover. Then it'll be a big deal and it'll be his big deal.

"No?" You tilt your chin down in a barely there nod, trying to solidify your stance. "You do whatever you want now?"

You sigh, lips pulling downwards in a slight pout. "It's not like that."

"Who gave it to you?"

Your eyes won't meet his. "I don't--" You cut yourself off, still aware enough that trying to hide things at this point is the quickest way to make things take a turn for the worst right now. "Stu let me use his--a little--but it wasn't like that. It was only a little."

Yeah, considering how red your eyes are and how much slurring and concentration it took for you to get through that, Billy really doubts it was as little as you're trying to convince him. "You're going to feel sick tomorrow."

To be fully honest, you can see that, a tiny bit of off-ness already starting to pull at the edge of your current buzz. You also don't love the way the usual giddiness of alcohol is blending with the easy uncertainty of your high. But Billy doesn't need to know that right now.

"'M okay." True enough, since you're not actively spiraling, "But I believe you."

He hasn't eased and a part of you is now starting to feel bad. You know you're not the easiest person to deal with when you're like this, but you also don't think you've done anything particularly annoying. His sour mood is starting to make what's wrong about your buzz feel magnified. Yeah, Billy told you to stick to one thing but he didn't make it sound like it was a big deal to him.

You swallow once, ignoring how dry your mouth feels. "C'mon." Billy's still close, within grabbing distance. The second you realize that it'd be easy to touch him, you reach out and place a hand on his arm. "Don't be mad."

He tenses under your touch, but you don't move your hand away. "Thought we didn't listen to each other." You half-sigh-half-groan as you drop your forehead against Billy's chest. He doesn't push you off, which has to be a good sign.

Billy places a palm on your back, rubbing soothing circles against the fabric of your shirt. "Let's get some water."

That feels okay enough, so you straighten, nodding once. "Okay."

He keeps a hand on your back, leading you back towards the main area of the party and into the kitchen. You're quiet as you walk, instinctually following Billy without question.

"Hey, I was looking for you--" Stu cuts himself off as soon as he sees Billy's expression. "You guys good?"

You nod placidly, "'M good, he's--"

"You gave her some?"

Stu holds his hands up in defense, "She was begging for it."

Begging is definitely an exaggeration. You want to explain, to defend the situation and take just enough blame to keep the peace without making yourself look like the bad guy. The words jam themselves in your head, twisting until they're in such a knot that all you can manage to get out is, "Nuh-uh."

Stu turns to glare at you, "So when I'm the bad guy it's all 'please' and 'I thought we were best friends' and 'it'll be our secret' but the second it goes a little bad you run to Bill--"

"Didn't run," you defend, but it doesn't matter, it's like you didn't say anything.

"You told her not to tell me?"

"No." The single syllable is so urging you can almost imagine that the question sobered him up. "I didn't say that."

There's a weird wave of tension between them, so thick and tangible a small part of you can't believe that the rest of the party continued, unaffected. You get why Stu snapped back to normal so quickly. "Guys," you try, even though you have no idea where you're going with this, "I just--I asked--asked like a lot--but I didn't beg. And it's--" You squeeze your eyes shut, really wishing you had been better at hiding your high. "It's not worth fighting over." Squinting your eyes open, you cross your arms across your stomach, hoping it'll make you seem more awake. "I love you guys, 'm good, let's just chill out for a second."

Billy and Stu both blink, exchanging a look that you don't get. You know you wouldn't get it if you were sober, either. It's one of their moments, a silent exchange you can't imagine anyone else ever getting.

Stu breaks the silence with a laugh. "She's way more out of it than I thought." You glare at that, not finding anything funny in what you said. You were nice, you diffused the tension. They're such assholes. And you always hate when they talk about you like you're not right there.

You glare. Maybe ditching them's still an option. They'd eventually accuse you of pouting, but there's a chance it'd be worth the future teasing. You could find Sid and Tate again, hang out until you calmed down.

"Aw," Stu hums, reaching for you, "She's pouting."

You push at the hand on your shoulder, too tired and distracted to be good at getting him off of you. "Am. Not." Stu squeezes harder. Normally, that'd just get you to fight back more openly, but now your stomach feels tight and things are starting to feel too warm. "Stu, knock it off--I'm nauseous."

Billy presses his hand against your back, the pressure comforting. "Give her a minute."

Stu lets go but makes a point of staying close. "You okay, sweetheart?"

Nodding slowly, you focus on feeling the words coming out of your mouth. "Yeah, yeah."

"You need to step out? Get some air?"

You shake your head once. You're okay, stable. "I'm good."

Billy's hand moves up and down your back gently. "You need to drink water."

The fighting risk is gone now. You should be completely happy, but the conflict rubbed you the wrong way and you're starting to feel like you might need space from them. "I kinda want to look for Sidney and Tatum."

"C'mon, cutie." Stu takes your hand gently, squeezing it softly. "Don't be like that." You're torn between arguing that you're not being like anything and telling them that they started it. "Do what you want, but no one's going to want to put up with you like this."

The comment stings more than it should. It's been mentioned before, that you're the the lightweight, the one that can't handle their substances and takes over without meaning to. Never cruelly, but it still hurts. "Mean."

"Not that mean," Stu pulls on your hand, "Because you love us."

You roll your eyes, hating past you for letting that come out. "Not right now."

Stu starts walking forward, you follow without complaining. "Don't say things you don't mean."

Billy's stays close as you walk, one hand on your back as you're guided to the kitchen. There are some people lingering around the fridge and the bar, but it's a lot less crowded than the main living room.

You stop at the island counter, moving to push yourself onto it with no warning. It takes Billy less than a second to pick up on what you want, he keeps a hand on your waist to stabilize you as you sit.

"Here." Stu hands you a glass filled with ice water.

You take a few long sips before setting it down next to you.

"Better?" It worked a little too well, and a part of you hates them for it. You reluctantly nod. "Told you."

More like Billy told you, but you're not opening that up again.

A small half-scoff-half-laugh snaps the three of you out of your bubble. Stu turns his head towards a semi-familiar blonde holding a beer bottle, "What?"

"Nothing." The voice is also familiar. A girl named Marley that used to hang around freshman year. "Just remembering the first time I got high and freaked out, you told me to get it together."

You crane your neck to look at the stranger, unsure if her comment's meant to attack Stu or you. "I'm not freaking out."

"Yeah," Stu defends, placing a comforting hand on your knee, "It's just water, Marley, if that's an issue, go be bitter somewhere else."

The girl scoffs, "Not bitter, just different."

You soften a little at that. Maybe she hadn't meant to come off as that hostile.

Stu shrugs, "I've grown." You watch the exchange curiously, wondering how well they know each other. There's a chance they met in kindergarten or on the first day of middle school or in some random sophomore class. Sometimes living in a small town that you didn't grow up in is the constant fear of becoming a third wheel in a matter of seconds. "In more ways than one."

Marley pretends to scoff, "Yeah, I'm out." She holds her hands up in a display of surrender before walking away.

"You know she used to be obsessed with me."

There's a 50-50 chance he's exaggerating. A more sober, more adjusted you would be able to make an educated guess, but right now you can't and for whatever reason that twists your stomach. You reach for your glass, taking a few sips to stabilize yourself.

"He's delusional," Billy corrects, voice so low you think you might be the only one that hears it. "She used to hang around, mainly for Sidney and Tatum, but never stuck." You nod absentmindedly. "No one else did before you."

The comment is small, muttered like saying it felt like pulling teeth. You smile regardless, way more warmed by it than you should be. Billy finally looks back at you. For a second, you let yourself openly watch him. A wave of casual drowsiness hits you with no warning, so you lean forward, resting your forehead against Billy's shoulder.

"You okay, angel?" Stu places a hand on your back. "Jealousy making you feel a little sick?"

You let out a breath that's almost a laugh as you force yourself to straighten. "You're right," you look at Billy, "He is delusional."

"Hey," Stu makes a point of poking you in the shoulder, "Don't be mean."

"You're right, I'm totally obsessed with you and--" A yawn breaks your sentence into two, "Close to bursting into jealous rage."

Stu's fingertips brush up and down your arm. "You're staying over, right?"

You nod, "Mhm, if that's okay."

He almost rolls his eyes. You're always prone to formality, always wanting to make sure that you're not bothering anyone. "I'd never kick you out of bed, sweetheart." You try to glare at him, but you're too tired to seem bothered. "You should go lay down for a little, I'm going to start kicking people out."

Hm. You are tired, but you never like being the first to go, the first to head upstairs and be left alone. You're about to protest, insist that you're fine when Billy speaks up, "I'll go, too." Billy straightens, holding out a hand to help you hop off the counter. "Over it."

You take his hand, getting off the counter with minimal complications. Billy moves an arm around your shoulder, deciding that that'd be the quickest way to help you get to the stairs.

#final girl fic #scream x reader #scream 1996 #stu macher x reader #stu macher #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #ghostface #poly! ghostface #ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface x reader

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