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shadowetienne · 5 months

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OnlyOneOf "give me the lOve, bitxx" Lyrical and Thematic Analysis

OK, so, I have a lot of thoughts about this one! I think that there are several ways to interpret it! So some notes before you start reading:

I am looking at this through a queer lens, if you want to do a non queer reading, good for you, that's not what I'm discussing here

Some of my interpretations are going to go multiple potential ways, and this isn't an essay I'm writing for school or actual publication, so I may leave some trailing thoughts or slightly stream of consciousness style explanations

I am fascinated by the lyrical structure of this song, so bear with the fact that I'm going to babble about that a bit before I dive into the details of lyrics/meanings.

If you've not listened to the song in full yet, here's the official version:

youtube

And here is the wonderful translation done by Imbabey on YouTube that I used for reference:

youtube

I would love to hear other people's thoughts on this song! It's fascinating to me, and I think that it's a really important part of the lyrical story of the album as a whole!

This is about to get really long, so the rest is under the cut:

SONG/LYRICAL STRUCTURE

So, I'm going to start out with talking about the construction of this song because I think that it's really interesting! We start and end the song with the chorus, and it repeats a total of 4 times within the song. That chorus takes up about half of the entire song! It's important and we should be paying attention to it.

We also have a 2 part Prechorus that repeats twice (before the 2nd and 3rd version of the Chorus) with the very first line of it changed each time. This is interesting in part because that's more repeated lyrics taking up a lot of the song, but that also points to that changed starting lyric as being super important!

Then we have our three other Verses: Verse 1 is short (only 4 lines), Verse 2 is longer with some rap and builds up to the development, and Verse 3 acts as the Bridge into the final chorus and has a really different sound to it. Verse 3/Bridge is also quite short (only 4 lines). So little of the total song is in these storytelling verses, but a lot happens!

THEMATIC CONNECTIONS

I will talk about more of these later, after I dig into the lyrics more specifically, but I want to reference a few songs that I will bring up in thinking about this one.

First off is actually one of their covers, KB and Junji's cover of "Heather":

youtube

While this song is a very different angle, like "give me the lOve, bitxx" I feel like it deals with the issues with dealing with being queer in a society that does not want you to be, and how that can build resentment. OnlyOneOf is very thoughtful in how they pick their covers, especially the ones that they make fancy videos for, so I think that they are a lens that we can think about their own discography from. This was actually one of the things that I thought of right away when I got the full lyrics for "give me the lOve, bitxx" so it's worth having it in mind when reading the rest of my analysis.

Another older song of theirs with an MV that I want us to look back at for the context of this song is "angel":

youtube

I am considering this song specifically as a lens of how heteronormativity creates a narrative of how people need to react/act in society, and how that can lead to overcompensation, and also sometimes some pretty obsessive patterns (doing relationships right, having the right appearance of interest even if there is not actual interest). Obviously, "angel" is a song with many different interpretations, and I've considered writing something longer form about it, but again, remember that right now, this is a reading through the queer lens. This is a song and MV that I've got in my head as context for "give me the lOve, bitxx" so I want to make sure it's fresh for you as well.

Important note to carry with you in this echo of "angel" in the interpretation: In "angel" the narrator has idealized the idea of this girl, of the perfect straight relationship that will make him fit in society (again I know, among other things). In "give me the lOve, bitxx" he has that relationship, and it hasn't fixed things for him. He still doesn't fit, and in fact kind of seems to feel even worse.

I think that there are themes present in a lot of their songs that are echoed here, but those are the two big lenses that I wanted to bring up before we get into the thick of things.

OTHER OVERARCHING THEMATIC THOUGHTS

We're almost to talking about the lyrics, I promise. But there's a big thing that I want to discuss here that leads to two very different readings of the song.

I think that one possible reading of this song involves the narrator addressing two separate love interests: a guy who he has had his first taste of queer attraction and love with recently and the girl who he has been dating in an attempt to feel "correct" in society.

I will be addressing this potential second person I think getting talked to in a few places in the song, but also try to reference what I think the interpretation would be if these parts are addressed to the girl or not.

THE CHORUS

Don't make me pull the trigger [girl*] Once you know more you'll get hurt Don't come near Maybe I could be dangerous Give me your treasure [what] What's there to laugh at? Oh I can't hear anything right now, freeze

*I have added the two adlibbed words that I caught from what the translation above has transcribed in brackets. However, the first adlib "girl" only appears in Choruses 1-3 and is omitted in the final Chorus.

These lyrics are aggressive, and kind of nasty towards the girl. They are reminiscent of a hold up, an attack, but also a threat to end a relationship ("pulling the trigger" on something to end it). Whatever the case, there is some threat involved in these lyrics. The narrator views himself, or on some level wants to be viewed, as "dangerous." He also seems to want the end to the current relationship, at the same time, he wants to just ignore everything and have things stay where they are and "freeze."

He doesn't think he's good for the girl, he doesn't really think that he's good for himself here. There's a certain amount of hopelessness in this chorus. He's got this whole persona, this "bad boy" image too, and that definitely makes me think of overcompensation. A lot of times, queer people will make the decision to lean really far into heteronormativity to protect themselves, and this bad boy vibe that the narrator has going definitely leads into that.

I think that it is really interesting that the "girl" adlib drops for the final chorus. If the male partner is also being addressed, by dropping the girl from the chorus at the end, it can also be interpreted that what is bringing up these feelings of needing to end the conventional heteronormative relationship is the new relationship with the male partner that has made the narrator realize that this current relationship is creating something dangerous for him, and he can't get the love that he wants in it (and that he actually does want love that is not socially expected/accepted).

THE PRECHORUSES

The first line of the prechorus is the only line that changes between the two. In the first prechorus it is:

It kind of bothers me.

And in the second prechorus it is:

It feels kind of weird.

I think that this change in the lyrics is leading into the feeling that the narrator is figuring out what he wants over the course of the song. It's changed from being something annoying without really having a clear direction of that, to feeling weird or uncomfortable to what the narrator wants.

I've divided the prechorus into two parts in my mind at least. After that first line, the rest of the prechorus goes:

What the hell do you want from me baby? Foreign personality, style Somehow I'm injurious, so dangerous.

I feel like this really draws in the idea of the narrator feeling like he doesn't fit the expectations of society and how he should behave in it. He doesn't know what his partner wants from him, he feels "foreign" and "injurious" in his roles and interactions.

This version of him talking about being "dangerous" also feels much more confused, like he's been told that the way he is would make him "dangerous." That word "Somehow" carries a lot of weight in this. He feels conflicted about it.

We follow this into the second half of the prechorus, which is unchanged between the two:

When you hug me tight from behind I feel broken, I can't explain it Love Don't come near, no way

This set of lines actually really interests me because I feel like it could be absolutely addressed to both or either of the girlfriend and the male partner.

One of those big queer experiences that a lot of us have been through is feeling broken and wanting to hide from it. In the narrator's heteronormative relationship that should make him fit, he's not enjoying these experiences and doesn't want them, and that makes him "feel broken."

But at the same time, if addressed to the male partner, when he experiences these sorts of things, he does enjoy them, and that potentially scares him just as much. He doesn't want to let the male partner near because that experience feeling right makes him "feel broken" by society that has said that it's not an OK way for him to feel.

So either here, he's telling the girl he's been dating as overcompensation to get away from him and leave him alone because he's not feeling it, or he's telling the guy that he's into and struggling against the feeling to stay away because the very possibility of that makes him feel weird and scared and he doesn't know what to do with it.

VERSE 1

This is the verse that gave me the idea of the song being addressed to two different people! It's actually the set of lyrics that initially made me think, oh huh, this sounds like it might be addressed to the guy that he's been thinking of. Especially in the narrative succession to "dOpamine" where he's got some obsession going on. I think that it can be read as addressed to either though.

I think of your face all day long I look strange to myself I can't think about anything else Why do you keep getting stuck in my head?

If this is addressed to the male love interest, it makes a lot of sense that the narrator is sitting there going: I have this "perfect" in the eyes of society relationship, one that I should be so happy with, but all I can think about is this guy that I'm into. Why can't I leave it alone?

On the other hand, if this is addressed to the girlfriend, it can also read as trying to force himself into the right way of thinking about his relationship. And because of it looking "strange" (weird, uncomfortable, not right) to himself. He's getting "stuck" on this idea, and not getting anywhere with it. He can't get that sort of love he wants in the relationship he has, and he's uncomfortable with that.

VERSE 2 (the long verse)

Like with the prechorus, I see this as being divided into two parts. This verse is rap heavier, and it really feels like a lot of the development of the feelings and understanding of his feelings that the narrator has.

Why are you so clingy anytime I see you? I'm speaking, but you cover my mouth Yeah, because of you Again, seeing my sudden bewildered expression makes her stop her words

This is actually another section that I think can be addressed to either partner! And maybe the "her" in the final line of this part of the verse is a translation artifact that I'm reading too much into, but it does make me think, is "her" different from "you" here.

If this is addressed to the girlfriend, it reads as really just not actually wanting the relationship, as feeling silenced from his actual feelings by the demands of society represented in the girlfriend and the fact that he feels the need to have a girlfriend to compensate, and that's starting to really grate on him now that he has seen/experienced another option. It implies that the girlfriend is starting to see the cracks in their relationship and know that something is wrong, maybe she's even trying to make space for him to say something, and he's not saying it.

If this is addressed to the male love interest, it's a really different vibe. It's the questions of: Why are you risking showing this in public? Why are you stopping me from talking? Why are you both showing this so much and trying to keep me from actually talking about it? In this reading, the girlfriend is noticing whatever is going on between the narrator and the male love interest, but maybe doesn't know what to say about it or if there is anything to say.

The second part of this verse is much more focused on the internal feelings of the narrator as opposed to the interaction with others.

I hide my feelings, thinking of each other I close my eyes Well I gotta play dumb, making it pump, sick of it numb, pick up the phone Relax now (Boogie on and boogie on)

So this part of the song is definitely at least in part about sex and intimacy between partners. Who is the "each other" here? Well, I think that it can be the narrator and the girlfriend, where he's closing his eyes to hide from himself and his lack of actual interest. It could also be the male love interest where he's closing his eyes when with the girlfriend to better imagine what he actually wants and his fighting himself over.

I find the part "pick up the phone" really interesting. He's having this unfulfilling experience in the relationship that he's supposed to want, the one that is supposed to be perfect for him in the eyes of society, so he's reaching for his virtual world that lets him get away from that (and where I suspect he can contact the male love interest, or at least see things about him). He's relaxing by getting away from what is supposed to be his important intimate relationship.

VERSE 3 / BRIDGE

There is a big change in tone with this verse, and I think that this is where the narrator accepts what he is feeling, and that he doesn't actually want to be with the girl, he doesn't want what society thinks that he should want. He's still conflicted and scared, actually maybe more scared, but he's starting to realize. I think that that's part of why the "girl" adlib then proceeds to be dropped in the final chorus that comes after it.

Tasty like a raindrop, oh my I can't get used to it at all You know what? Actually I'm afraid you will leave Give me a chance to kill my doubt

I think that the first half of this verse is referring to his experience of queer intimacy with male love interest, the first time he's actually enjoyed it, and referring back to "dOpamine" that "thirst" that he's experiencing (with the "raindrop" lyric).

The second half is another one of those things where it could be addressed to either the girlfriend or the male love interest.

If it's addressed to the girlfriend, even though he's realized what he actually wants, the fact that it goes against the directives of society, and what he feels like he should want, he just wants that one more chance to see if maybe it could work with the girlfriend, that he is scared of what is past this relationship that isn't fulfilling but is at least safe.

If it's addressed to the male love interest, I get the impression that there's an element of the male love interest having basically said "look make a decision," and the narrator has been hesitating. Not feeling safe. And now he's saying, wait I'm more afraid of the idea of not having a chance with you and something that actually feels right than I am of leaving my safe by social standards relationship. Give me one last chance to taste this possibility and make myself sure before I jump into this relationship that feels dangerous but fulfilling.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Whoever the song is addressed to ("you"), the narrator has very much built up feelings of resentment towards social expectations and the girlfriend that he has put those social expectations on.

He's sort of billed himself as dangerous because of how society views what he has realized about himself. He knows he isn't being good to himself, he's not being good to the girlfriend, he's hurting everything in his path because social expectations are weighing down on him and telling him he's awful and hurting him.

A big part of the song is him kind of breaking under that, realizing that he can't keep going the way he is going, but struggling to make that final decision to leave and actually face his queerness and the possibilities that exist in it.

#OnlyOneOf #give me the love bitxx Analysis #Things I Can't Say LOve album #I don't think that I realized just how much I had to say about this song until I started saying it #I feel like I'm leaving things out still too #I'd love to hear your thoughts about it too!#Youtube

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aemiron-main · 1 year

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breaking news: local girl, heather holloway, is not as stupid as people think she is.

i feel like a lot of the ‘what was controlling heather’ discussion would be resolved if people spent a little bit of time actually looking at heather’s character and scenes. i don’t think there’s any other entity. heather is just like the other flayed. her personality and mannerisms don’t change the way billy’s do.

flayed heather is not that out of line from actual heather. billy’s mannerisms and speech patterns change more than heather’s do- heather’s change about as much as the other flayed. all of the flayed, including heather, maintain a fair chunk of their original mannerisms and speech patterns.

it’s just a slightly angrier and more monotonous version of those mannerisms and speech patterns. this is why nancy and jonathan thought that tom was on drugs. because he was being a more distant/monotonous, agressive, angrier version of himself. bruce does the same. they both also become crueller and more condescending. the same applies to heather. she becomes more distant/colder/monotonous, but not more than bruce and tom do (ie her speech in general pre flaying was already not as ‘bouncy’ and dramatic as bruce’s is so she’s going to sound more monotone than him in general). she becomes angrier and crueller and more condescending and sarcastic, especially towards her father. she still acts and sounds like heather, just a crueller, more distant, more monotonous version. just like bruce and tom. it’s also set up that the women at the pool with Karen dislike Heather and judge her based on appearances and first impression, and I think a lot of people in the fandom are doing the same thing to her character. the women dislike heather and judge her based on her appearance and first impressions and based on the fact that she has to leave in order for billy to come and begin his shift. but it’s not heather’s fault that she works there and billy has a different shift. she’s not doing anything wrong. she’s never done or said anything mean to these women that we see at least. she’s just doing her job. the women mock heather’s voice for being like ‘nails on a chalkboard,’ but heather isn’t really doing anything wrong, she’s just reprimanding some kids about safety, and yet, the women are so deeply annoyed not by what she’s saying but by how she’s saying it. they’re judging her just based on her voice, not on the content of what she says.

and now, people watching the show are judging her based on appearances in the same way. there’s the assumption that she isn’t smart enough to behave the way she does when flayed (despite the fact that her flayed behaviour REALLY isn’t mastermind mindbending behaviour at all) and therefore there must be some mysterious new unintroduced entity that has beef with tom holloway specifically. instead of recognizing that henry has warped her mind via the flaying and made her crueller JUST like the other flayed and is using her for her traits (her observation skills/analytical skills/intelligence) and her connections JUST like he uses the other flayed (bruce’s physical strength etc). heather IS intelligent and observant! she’s the only person who realizes that something is wrong with billy! the other women at the pool just catcall him! hell, KAREN SEES HIM UPSET AFTER BEING STOOD UP AND HOLDING A JUG OF BLEACH WITH THE LID OFF AND SUPERNATURAL SHIT ASIDE SHE DOESN’T EVEN THINK TO MAYBE DO A LITTLE MENTAL HEALTH CHECK?? MAYBE MAKE SURE HE’S NOT GONNA CHUG THE WHOLE THING AND KILL HIMSELF BEFORE SHE TURNS AROUND AND LEAVES?? she talks to him, yes, but it’s focused on ‘hey i’m sorry i stood you up’ and she’s concerned about the fact that he’s not replying to her/hasn’t forgiven her, rather than on ‘huh that bottle of bleach and his total shift in demeanour is a little weird maybe I should ask what’s up.’ but heather notices! billy doesn’t even do anything THAT weird in that scene, he just stumbles off of his chair and then is crying and yelling in the shower, he’s not even holding an open jug of bleach and staring seemingly depressedly (in reality it’s bc he’s flayed) into space lmao, and yet, heather is oberservant, and smart, and asks if he’s alright, and if she should get him emergency attention! and sure, the shower stuff is weird, but heather asks billy if he’s okay before the shower screaming, when he’s stumbling around outside. she sees him stumbling, follows him, and checks in on him. she is intelligent, compassionate, and observant. billy notices obvious things at the pool, like the kid running, but heather notices smaller details, like Curtis dunking his friend in the scene where she reprimands him for it. Heather is shown to be kind and compassionate. she’s gentle and concerned when speaking to billy in the shower. She has a snippy, colder side, sure, but that’s not the only part of her. But she gets stereotyped as SOLELY being mean and pretentious and cold by fellow characters. The women at the pool hear her chastise a child for something that IS dangerous, and judge her based on that, and based on the tone of her voice. They hear a teenage girl speak snippily to rowdy children in a possibly dangerous scenario ONCE and suddenly they’re having a fit about being annoyed by the sound of her voice.

And so, she fulfills that stereotype/self-fulfilling prophecy once she is flayed. She sounds mean. She sounds cold and sarcastic and snippy. The scene of her chastising the kids exists for a reason- it’s to show us that she CAN act that way in addition to being kind, and that that side of her is the one that gets emphasized when she’s flayed. This also tracks narratively with how henry’s powers are said to hold a mirror up to people and show them the worst parts of themselves. that’s what happens with heather. The ‘no dunking, Curtis’ scene has mannerisms and speech patterns and snippy remarks that are consistent with flayed Heather.

If people paid even a bit of attention to heather’s character when, y’know... creating theories about her character... then maybe they would realize that flayed heather’s cold, snippy more monotonous tone is CONSISTENT WITH the colder, more monotonous, snippy tone that non-flayed heather has during the ‘no dunking, Curtis’ scene. maybe they would realize that she is observant and intelligent.

I just think that ‘this girl is smart and the show about subverting stereotypes subverts a stereotype and also being flayed brings out the worst in people and heather ends up fulfilling her stereotype despite the fact that she wasn’t actually completely that way pre-flaying’ is more likely than ‘mysterious new entity with no proper introduction or conclusion that contradicts a ton of existing lore and canonically still has heather’s mannerisms and speech patterns and has beef with her father who behaves rudely towards her and her mother even before he’s flayed.’

It’s ALSO worth noting that Billy hallucinates Heather as being more monotone before heather is even possessed, so any extra ‘heather is extra monotone’ scenes are likely also tied to billy’s POV.

anyway.

#stranger things #st analysis #heather holloway #heather holloway analysis #the mindflayer

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thebussynotes · 2 years

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Edit : I started this last night and finished it today, this is the longer version of the previous post under this one*

Ugh, I’m having midnight thoughts and I feel myself wanting to cry every second so imma just share

(Post Byers Move)

I personally feel like Argyle plays guitar in his free time. He was the guitarist, Heather was the singer and Billy was the drummer. They always performed in Argyles house, they enjoyed themselves and after they would go to the beach and collect seashells or just mess around. Those were the good times. So imagine him walking around in Lenora, it was almost the end of fall, around December seeing none other than Neil Hargrove strolling past.

He was quite hesitant to go up to him because the last time he talked to him they ended in bad terms…not that they were in good terms in any way… he goes up to him and says hello, Neil looks confused at first but then it clicks to him at some point and a look of disgust creeps up his face. Argyle wanted to end this conversation as soon as possible so he quickly shot out the question, “is Bil-”… he was cut off, Neil looked at him straight in the face and spit out the news “he’s fucking dead” “w…wha?…huh?!” “He’s.fucking.dead. Don’t makes me repeat myself….” “dead?…hes…h-hes?…no…no…what did you do? What did you do?!” He assumed it was Neil’s fault, he assumed that Neil finally beat his best friend to death but Neil replied, “I have nothing to do with it, I don’t even know how he died…if you want to see him, I suggest you don’t, it will just be a waste…” “I don’t believe you!!!” “Stop your fucking yelling, and fine you don’t believe me but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead…now have a good life, I’m off…” he walks away into the endless road and Argyle is left shocked and he feels himself starting to shake “I…I can’t believe this…” he just couldn’t…a few days later he sets up a flight to go to Indiana, get driven to Hawkins and visit the cemetery Billy was buried at. He packs his things, notably his guitar and surf board… Jonathan stopped by his house the day before he left, Jonathan noticed he was packing a bit(he wasn’t gonna take much over to Hawkins since he was going to stay there for at least 5 days), he asks where he was going and Argyle excused it as him going to visit his other family members that were still currently in Mexico, Jonathan didn’t think much of it and gave him the okay.

Time skip to when he arrives to Hawkins, it’s probably really late so he stays at the local hotel. It’s very quiet in Hawkins, he feels homesick considering he can’t hear the crash of waves like he usually could in Cali, but he will only stay here for a few days. Argyle is still very much in denial and that denial has kept him up all night. In the morning, he gets ready to visit the graveyard, the only thing he takes is his guitar, he goes downstairs after safely locking his hotel door, (I’m not really sure how Taxi services worked in the 80s so please correct me) he whistles for a taxi. It’s doesn’t take long before a Taxi appears before him, he tells the driver to drive to the local cemetery. He makes it to the cemetery a few minutes later, it felt like forever but he was finally there, he slightly hesitated to get out of the Taxi but he had no choice so he thanked the driver and made his way into the gates.

He feels his heart racing a bit fast, he was nervous and he didn’t want to admit what was said to him, especially by none other than his best friends piece of shit father. He didn’t know exactly where Billy’s grave was, he never asked so he spent a very long while looking for his grave. After an hour of walking around, he saw a grave that had the name “William Hargrove” carved into it and his heart drops to his ass… “it…really is true?…shitshitshitshitshitshit-” he starts to freak out and starts pacing around in front of his grave, “you gotta be shitting me man!!!”. He feels tears starting to form in his eyes, his childhood best friend is gone, all the hopes they had that he will one day return to Cali was all in vain. To make matters worse he looks to the grave stone next to Billy’s and he gasps in disbelief as he read the name carved into it.

“Heather Holloway”…she’s gone too, just like Billy…another childhood friend gone. Argyle let’s out a few sobs as he gave up holding back his tears. It’s no wonder he hasn’t heard Heather in months. Heather sent letters to Argyle because Neil found out that Billy was sending letters to Argyle and got punished for it so Heather was now in charge of it. After 4 months(a month of the Byers moving to Cali), he started to worry because Heather usually sent letters every week and all of a sudden it just…stops.

He tried to drown that worry many times but today is where all that worry turns into immense sorrow. He sits down in front and in between their graves and is still sobbing his heart out. He calms down after a while but is still crying a bit because the pain of these losses is unbearable to him, he picks up his guitar and thinks shortly before letting himself play the strings with his fingers, playing a lovely tune that made have flashbacks to memories he had with them, how happy they were despite their personal struggle. That’s all Argyle wanted, wanted his friends to feel relaxed and happy around him and be comfortable with each other. He continues playing his guitar for a long while and before he knows it, the sun started to set.

He sighs sadly as he slowly stands up and looks at their graves one more time before saying “goodbye…I-…I’ll see you two tomorrow”. Eventually he makes it back to the hotel by pure luck because he was sure he got lost despite this town being as small as the palm of his hand. For the next 3 days, he goes back to their graves, play them some tunes, talks to them for a bit, heads back to the hotel. It’s the same for the next day but instead he stays at the graveyard until late at night, he wanted it to feel like how it felt back in the 70’s where Heather, Billy and himself would stay up late at night, near their personal bonfire and laying on a worn out couch with no concern and just chatting their minds off before drifting to sleep like three little bears. Despite talking to literal stone, he felt deep inside that Billy and Heather were listening to him, acknowledging his presence and appreciating that he was there which made him chuckle a little at the thought.

He said his final goodbyes to them, he looks over at his surfboard, “oh shit, I almost forgot”, he picks up the surfboard and places the surfboard horizontally infront of both of their graves. “Now you guys can share it, to make it feel a bit like home…” he smiles sadly at the graves and gently places a kiss on both stones as if he were giving them both forehead kisses “Hasta Luego, Brochacos…” he gets up, picks up his guitar and goes back to the hotel again. The feeling of homesickness was overcomes by the need to stay but he knew he couldn’t stay, he couldn’t… the next day he packs up, checks out of the hotel and leaves to the Indiana airport and flies back to Cali. He’s still very upset that his best friends are no longer alive, but is relived at the fact that he was able to say goodbye to them in his own way with no interruptions…he will never forget them, never.

*im sorry for this being way to long but it’s a longer explanation to the last post and since I’m going back to back on angst y’all are gonna suffer I’m so sorry :’D also I’m not very fond of writing so this might be as good as I thought but I still tried. Also If you have any questions feel free to ask*

#billy hargrove #heather holloway #argyle #I’m a firm believer of these three being the ultimate Cali gang #why did I add Heather into the mix? because why tf not?#angst #they were his brochacos…#headcanon but longer version

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lunarscaled · 8 months

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"....really? 'cause i feel great." (curse toji for fun 😊)

HEATHERS: THE MUSICAL

-> Recently, Lyric had been changing their mind that this was an easier arrangement than when he was alive. Less expensive, certainty, but convenient? Being shadowed by him constantly even when they didn't want to be? Having their deals meddled with? Having their attention dragged kicking and screaming back to him because of whatever unspoken and unknown reason that made him ravenous for their disapproval and scoldings? No. This was not convenient. Their hands were curled fists, nails biting their palms until they're sure little bubbling drops of red appeared ( and then healed just as quickly, denying them even that small relief ) as they gritted their teeth and watched the stiff metal of his frame unbend from where it had become a speared point of contact with the curse across from them, punctured through its chest and tore it in two. The gruesome scene of discolored blood when he stabbed it repeatedly for good measure ( or amusement, just to be sure it was exorcised dead ) made their face scrunch up. They felt the heat of anger flush their face, and banged their fist against his cage as they hissed their displeasure, fury, they needed that curse to make a deal!

"Do you?! Toji---I need to make contracts with other curses to do my work."

-> They kick the base of the iron maiden once so hard they feel their toes throb because their shoes weren't stiff enough to absorb the impact ( they should get steel toed boots... ) as their hands come up to scrunch in their hair and groan. It had been a massive pain to just find that Hōō; peaceful curses were incredibly rare, let alone special grade ones, and he had torn it in half right in front of them before they could even barter with it, despite staying quiet as they had tried to good naturedly approach it until now. Their palms, scarred and slightly calloused, come to scrub at their face, fingertips digging into the curve of their nose and their cheekbones as they growl from frustration ( they want to exorcise him. they want to be rid of him already. they've already made the deal, they don't need him--- )

"Is this fun for you? Sabotaging me?"

-> They lean forward, teeth bared in an upset sneet.

"Leaving bruises where people can see them? Shredding curses I'm trying to work with? Crushing men I'm trying to get information out of because---what. You're jealous? Cause you're dead?"

-> His magic and their magic are the same sorcery; they made a deal with him for such. When their fingers claw and curl they feel the resistance of his caged shape pushing back as they try to warp it to their rage, his own strength against them, but he just leans closer and grins. It's goading, and even when Lyric squeezes down harder, they can't crush him like they want.

"Get it together. Nobody's bringing you back. You don't get to throw a fit because of that."

#goreburdened #* questions and answers.#⋇ NOTHING WILL SAVE YOU FROM CALAMITOUS EMBRACE: JUJUTSU KAISEN #⋇ THE ROCKROSE AND THE THISTLE: JUJUTSU KAISEN 0 #⭐ your mother's weaves and your father's threads: let me rob them of you now ( goreburdened. | Toji )#narrator vc: someone would in fact bring him back.

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iwadori · 3 years

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Can you write a pure angst, using 10 and 35 please ( Idc about the characters ) :)

Getting hurt with the haikyu boys part 3 (Iwaizumi)

Part one Part Two Part three

Word count: 2.8K

Genre: pure angst

Authors Note: I am sorry for just how shit it is lol. I had an idea and it kind of got worse as it went along but I hope you like it anyways.

You were pregnant.

You wanted to cry.

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. Positive. There was no denying it, as much as you wanted it to be negative. You could tell you were pregnant before you even took the test, all the throwing up you were doing, the nausea you felt when certain foods were being cooked at work and the ongoing foot and back pains you felt.

Iwaizumi first approached you at your job, some shitty dinner that only paid you enough so you can make ends meet. You could tell he had money, the way he dressed, his demeanor even the way he talked. ‘What was a man like this doing here?’ you thought.

Apparently, he’s seen you around for a while, your city was small you’d only really leave this place if you had a fair god mother or died and of course you are clearly alive and don’t have a fairy god mother...until you met him.

He ordered a coffee, didn’t drink it though (probably knowing that your boss spat it in whenever he was in a bad mood or because he just needed an excuse to be around) just waiting for you to finish your break. You sat in a corner booth for ‘privacy,’ not that anybody was even in the place.

“My names Iwaizumi Hajime” he said keeping a blank facial expression

“What do you wan-”

“Miss L/N, I think I’ll do the talking here. Okay?” he said with a smirk appearing on his face after seeing your slightly shocked face when he revealed knowing your last name.

“I’ve seen you around for a while now, you’re beautiful you know that right?” he said making your cheeks heat up a bit. “Anyways, I think you’re gorgeous and a man like me needs a pretty girl like you on his arms. By the lack of response to my name, I assume you don’t know who I am...but I guess that works in my favour”

Your face is getting bored by the second not really listening as he rambles on about himself, “I need you to be on my arm every night that I go out to one of my boring business meetings.”

“Business meetings?” you ask

“You know, a bunch of ‘business’ people go out and talk ‘business’ together.” he said sarcastically as if you were stupid.

“I know that, I just thought you’d elaborate about it.” You sighed “What do I get out of this?”

“Finally, you’ve gotten to the interesting part, you my dear get money and lots of It” he says finally catching your attention “I’ll pay you 1 million Yen per night, and all your dresses, outfits and expenses will be paid for so you won’t have to worry your pretty little head about finances again” he ‘smiled’ at you.

“What's the catch?” squinting your eyes

“The catch is just that you have to accompany me to all my events.... and you have to stay in my condo.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry dear, it’s a nice place” interrupting you “probably better than any shithole you live in”

“Fine, fine” his words were convincing you “Is there a contract you have for me to sign?” you ask wanting to at least be somewhat ‘protected.’

“No contract, just this verbal agreement. Between me and you right here right now.” he winked “so you’re in agreement of our arrangement?”

“Yes.”

That was your first mistake believing Iwaizumi Hajime.

Sure you could defend yourself now and say ‘I was poor and in need of help’ but you’d know it would just be you in denial talking.

The first time you attended a meeting with Iwaizumi, you came home from quitting your job since Iwaizumi said ‘you’re on my payroll now.’ You found a beautiful red dress laying on your bed accompanied with shoes and accessories and note saying, ‘I trust you to be able to do your own hair and make up my dear – I.H’

You didn’t have any family, or any friends. Most people that have had even a single encounter with you have deemed you to be ‘Not Likeable’ saying you’re not a people person or just lack any sociability. You were stuck in this town because of the debt your father has left you in before he supposedly ‘passed’ away. Leaving you drowning in all his financial woes, meaning you couldn’t go to university or become a professional *insert dream job here* like you wanted to be.

When you exited your building, you saw Iwaizumi leaning against a flashy car parked outside. “You chariot awaits m’lady” he says with a cheeky grin on his face making you roll your eyes. You got in the car and he started driving, humming along to a random song slightly agitating you.

“So, when are you moving to my place? It’s a part of the agreement.” he said in a sing song voice in the tune of what he was humming.

Iwaizumi reminded you of JD from heathers, he was nice when he wanted but he did have a screw loose that was triggered when things didn’t go his way. Like a small child who didn’t get the toy he wanted when he had a million other toys.

Him being the child. You being the toy.

“Our agreement is bullshit, just verbal.” you say mockingly “remember?”

“don’t start with me Y/N I'm not in a pleasant mood today” he says gritting his teeth “and I don’t need you fucking with me tonight.”

He puts his hand on your thigh, a little too harshly making you internally wince. “Okay here’s the rules for the night. You stay on my side for the night, only speak when spoken too, don’t drink too much since no one likes an alcoholic of course.”

“Oh, so all I need to do is sit pretty like a good little girl.” you say sarcastically

“Precisely” he lessens the grip on your thigh making you breathe in relief.

The event was boring to say the least, you did as Iwaizumi said stood next to him with a fake smile plastered on your face all through the night. You’re sure that people did ask you questions, but you were in your own little world only stepping out of it when Iwaizumi either pinched your arm or gripped your thigh.

The end of the night was ‘eventful’ to say the least, before you entered the car a hand wrapped around your waist and you were pulled into a back alley. “We couldn’t end the night so boring, could we?” it was Iwaizumi, of course it was.

He started peppering your neck with kisses and roaming his hands all over your body. He eventually trailed the kisses from your neck to your lips, leading you both into a full blown make out session. It was fast and you couldn’t really think straight. Iwaizumi was getting a bit too forceful, gripping and kissing harder than he needed to, leaving marks as if to say ‘you’re mine now.’

That was your second mistake. Getting sexual with Iwaizumi Hajime.

He said you had to go back to his house which was basically now yours. You complied, obviously had no other choice since he didn’t offer or ask. He told you too.

Waking up in the Iwaizumi residence was an ‘experience.’ Iwaizumi wanted you awake when he was awake and asleep when he was, never giving you a moment too yourself. You swiftly came to the learn of the reason why he wanted you in his ‘care’ (as he called it anyways) he wanted his eyes on you all the time.

You carried on attending the events bored out of your mind and the nights went the same way. Fancy dress, long car ride, not paying attention, getting fucked in the back alley then sleep in Iwaizumi’s expensive silk sheets.

You didn’t know much about Iwaizumi besides what you could find. In the day time, Iwaizumi spends it cooped up in his office whilst giving you the ‘permission’ to roam around the house. Iwaizumi kept all his important stuff in a small box under a creepy floorboard in his basement original idea I know. All the information in there was just stuff about generic stuff about his childhood. Him being brought up into wealth, how much he weighed as a baby and all the allergies and boring shit that he had.

Iwaizumi Hajime was an enigma.

You and Iwaizumi did get along. Sometimes. You did do things that weren’t strictly fucking and going to business meetings. He took you on what you could only be able to describe as dates, and outings showing you off to all his actual friends. That’s when you learnt the difference of the ‘two’ men, Iwaizumi and Hajime.

Although they were the same person by name, Iwaizumi was rough around the edges and cold at heart not caring about you at all. Hajime, whilst still being rough around the edges, basically made you out to be his girlfriend giving you the love and care you needed. You really liked the times when you were with Hajime.

That was your third mistake, falling in love with Iwaizumi Hajime.

As things progressed, your quality of life seemed to dwindle (not that it was great in the first place.) Iwaizumi was barely in the house, claiming that for these particular ‘business meetings’ he didn’t need you.

On one night, a simple phone call definitely changed your whole dynamic.

“Yes babe, I’m coming over tomorrow I can’t wait to see you and the girls again.” he said to the other person on the phone.

“Why do you question my love for you, of course I love you.” he said again

“I love you, the girls even the dumb dog that Haru forced me to get for her 8th birthday I love. You guys are my family. My lovely wife and out girls”

Your stomach churned, you backed out of the hallway that you were in. He had a family, of course he had a family. You went into the guest room, where you kept all your things, you couldn’t do this anymore. Although you pretty much lost all your morals when you formed this whole agreement but you refuse to sleep with a married man with kids. You couldn’t. Being the reason why a family might break up is something you wouldn’t ever do.

Iwaizumi heard all your commotion and entered the guess “Woah darling who’s moving out?” he asked jokingly

“Hmm probably your wife and kids, after they realise their husband is a CHEATER!” you spat

“Woah, woah Y/N” he said getting closer to you “You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about”

“I think I know pretty well; you’ve always been a pompous ass Iwaizumi; it was my bad for thinking that you weren’t married throughout all of this.” You finished packing up as much close as you possible can and headed out the room.

“You need to watch your mouth Y/N” he says aggressively

“Or what Iwaizumi, or should I say Hajime” you shout “Or is that only reserved for your WIFE!”

This seem to really tick him off, “You don’t know anything Y/N, you really think I could love a dirty slut like you? Huh? Well, I didn’t know that you were important enough to be able to know the details of my personal life.”

“I'm not a slut” you mumbled. Which was completely true, Iwaizumi didn’t notice that the first time you slept together was the first time that you slept with anyone.

“repeat that again for me y/n?” he said mockingly

“IM NOT A SLUT!” you shout in his face

“You are what I say you are darling”

“Fuck you.” You try and push past him hard, to get out the house but you’re no match against his anger and brute strength. So, when he slams you against the wall, he banging your head. Leaving you concussed and bleeding. Before you completely pass out all you hear is a repetition of Iwaizumi Hajime murmuring “I'm sorry, I’m sorry” whilst wrapping his arms around your comatose body.

You woke up, thinking that was all a dream but the ache in the back of your head proved otherwise.

“Y/N, darling your awake!” he said making you flinch

You moved away from him when he sat on your bed looking at you with ‘love’ and ‘care’ in his eyes. He goes to stroke your cheek whispering “you’re so be-”

“Fuck off” you say. That bang to the head was a wakeup call literally reminding you of all the hot and cold moments you had with Iwaizumi that you submerged into your head for the sole reason of ‘wanting to be happy.’ But you weren’t happy. Deep down you knew that.

“But y/n, darling I love you.” he said and you closed your eyes shut wanting to tune him out “I love you Y/N.”

“You don’t" you replied back harshly with your eyes still shut tightly

“But I do Y/N, I love you” he repeated the ‘I love you’s’ over and over making you want to scream out in frustation.

“Shut up!” you yelled “You don’t love me, stop saying that” your head throbbing with every word “Just stop. Make it stop! Kill me if you have to! Just make it stop” you say thumping at Iwaizumi’s chest becoming a hysterical crying mess. You weren’t talking about the physical paint he caused you (even though that hurt ALOT) you were talking about the constant heartache it was just being around him.

He didn’t know what to do. So, he just put his arms round you again and you yelled your frustrations about him to him into his chest.

You woke up into a new place, not your old one or Iwaizumis just something brand new.

With a note on your bed side table saying:

‘I love you and I’m sorry’

Making you tear it up and toss it out.

You had no further contact with Iwaizumi, you figured that the new house you lived in was already paid for, but you didn’t want Iwaizumi to show up one day saying that you owed him money so you decided to get a job. A small one, that didn’t require any strenuous Labour or heavy shift times.

It was a few weeks after Iwaizumi left you and you felt sick and heartbroken. After finishing your shift at your job you felt hot headed and extremely ill making you run to your toilet to spill out your guts.

Which lead you to your predicament now.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You wanted to cry.

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. Positive. There was no denying it, as much as you wanted it to be negative. You could tell you were pregnant befonhre you even took the test, all the throwing up you were doing, the nausea you felt when certain foods were being cooked at work and the ongoing foot and back pains you felt.

You didn’t know what to do. There was only thing you could do, but you certainly didn’t want that. ‘Call him’ the voice in your head urged. ‘That would be the best option right?’ you thought ‘I mean he did love you afterall...’

It took a whole day of pacing around and wondering on what you should do. But you knew that leaving the situation longer would only make it worse. So you kept his business card on you when he gave it to you since that was the only phone number you had. He was all you actually had.

You called and the phone rang 4 times, your heart beating faster and faster as it rang.

“He-”

“Hello this is Sakura Iwaizumi speaking” a feminine voice said “Who is calling?” you hear someone say in the background. ‘Iwaizumi’ you thought, your face smiling. You realised you haven’t responded so you rushed out

“I’m Y/N L/N, I need to speak with Iwaizumi.”

“Haji dear, there's a girl on the phone for you... someone of the name called Y/N L/N”

You heard muffles in the background and Iwaizumi saying “Just hang up the phone she’s not worth it.” Your heart stung ‘She’s not worth it.’ Did he really mean that? As much as you claim to hate him, you didn’t really. As you’ve said before you always liked his loving and caring side over his cold hearted one.

You put the phone down and just cried, wailing your heart out for him. Why? You don’t really know to be honest. This was all a dumb agreement, he used you because he was bored and he probably already knew you were pregnant from when he gave you that concussion. But ‘he doesn’t want you’ you reminded yourself because ‘I’m not worth it.’

AUTHORS NOTE: once again, i’m sorry lol. But im most likely going to do a part two of my ‘long shot’ series with Akaashi or a character of your choosing.

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyu scenarios #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi headcanons #signedwithane😌

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

Text

Everyday, for the rest of forever - Fred Weasley

Title: Everyday, for the rest of forever Pairing: Fred x fem!reader, Fred x Angelina Johnson Summary: Reader watches as the person she loves falls in love with someone else A/N: This is a song fic based on the song Heather by Conan Gray and I highly recommend listening to it while you read!! I got carried away with the ending but I’m not even sorry.

Tags: @bohemianspacebabe @litteralywedonttalkaboutitk

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I still remember third of December Me in your sweater, you said it looked better On me, than it did you, only if you knew How much I liked you

“How’re you feeling?” Hermione asks quietly as she takes a seat on the edge of Y/N’s bed. She had kept the dorm up half the night with her coughing, so Hermione is pretty sure she knows the answer.

“Like shit,” Y/N answers as she rolls over in bed to look at her friend. Her throat feels raw and her voice is gravelly. Despite the fact that Y/N can feel the heat radiating off her cheeks and she’s laying under a pile of blankets she shivers as a cold chill runs down her spine.

Hermione frowns, and reaches out to touch Y/N’s forehead. “You’ve still got a fever. You sure you don’t want to go to Madam Pomfrey? She can whip up a Pepperup Potion and have you feeling better in a few minutes.”

Y/N nods, waving away the worried look Hermione gives her. “You know that always makes me feel even worse. It’s just a little cold, I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure.” Hermione stands up, pausing as she reaches for her coat. “Do you want me to stay with you? I don’t mind, there will be other Hogsmeade trips.”

Y/N shakes her head with a laugh, gesturing towards the door of their dorm room. They both can hear Ron and Harry causing some kind of commotion with Seamus and Dean down in the common room despite the fact that the thick wooden door is closed. “I’ll be fine. Those two idiots need you more than me. Someone needs to keep them in check.”

Hermione laughs too, finally pulling on her coat. “You’re not wrong about that. I’ll see you at dinner, yeah?”

“As long as you’ve got a chocolate frog for me, I’ll be there.”

Y/N lays in her bed, tossing and turning, desperately trying to fall asleep. Every time she feels herself start to drift off she either gets hit with a coughing fit or a cold chill. Muttering to herself she forces herself out of bed and trudges towards the common room with her favorite blanket, hoping the raging fire will do a better job of keeping her warm.

The common room is empty when she arrives, and she suspects it will be for the next few hours as most of her housemates are down at Hogsmeade. Y/N settles down on her favorite couch, tucking her knees to her chest and wrapping her blanket around her. She sits there in silence watching the flames when someone comes up behind her.

“No Hogsmeade for you either, eh? You set a stink bomb off in Snape’s office too?” Fred asks with a laugh as he jumps over the back of the couch and settles down next to Y/N.

Y/N’s breath catches in her throat and she hopes that her fever masks the blush that creeps up on her cheeks. She sneaks a quick glance at Fred, taking in his tousled hair and comfy sweater, before turning her attention back to the fire. Fred has been the object of her daydreams for as long as she can remember, his fiery hair and mischievous eyes never failing to cause her stomach to erupt in a flutter of butterflies.

She knows it’s wrong, to fancy the older brother of one of her best mates, but she can’t help it. Whenever she tries to push Fred from her mind he always seems to come back, her feelings for him only more intense. Fred is absolutely captivating, and she can’t help but fall a little more in love with him each time they have some kind of interaction.

“Not quite, I’m afraid,” she says with a giggle, unable to contain how giddy he makes her feel. “I’ve not been feeling well the past few days.”

Y/N watches as Fred takes in her appearance, and she curses herself for not at least trying to look cute. She knows her hair is tied up in a messy pile on top of her head, her cheeks are flushed from the fever and her eyes are glistening with tears from all of the coughing. Another shiver runs down Y/N’s spine, partially from her illness, but mostly from the butterflies Fred’s intense gaze gives her.

“Cold?” Fred asks softly, his hands reaching for the hem of his sweater as Y/N nods. He’s wearing one of his infamous Weasley sweaters, a bright orange F on the chest. Y/N has always wondered what it would feel like to wear Fred’s sweater, how intoxicating it would smell, so she can’t believe her eyes as Fred pulls it over his head and reaches out to give it to her.

Y/N can’t even think straight, let alone reach out and grab the garment from him. Her eyes are trained on the thin gray t-shirt he’s wearing, the outline of his muscles clearly visible now. She’s wondering what it would feel like to grip his built shoulders, what being wrapped in his strong arms might feel like when Fred scooches towards her.

“Here love, arms up,” Fred whispers, unwrapping the blanket draped around Y/N’s shoulders. He’s so close that she can feel his breath on her cheeks and her skin is tingling from his touch.

It would be so easy, Y/N thinks to herself as she lifts her arms up for him. It would be so easy to just lean up a little and kiss him. Her face gets even hotter at the thought of kissing Fred and she has to look away to keep herself from doing it. Y/N can feel Fred slip the sweater over her arms and down over her body. She tucks her arms back into herself, basking in the warmth that the plush knit gives her.

Fred tucks Y/N’s blanket back around her shoulders before he moves away slightly. Their arms are still touching, and Y/N takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. But all that does is make her giddier, as all she can smell is Fred.

“So, a stink bomb, eh?” Y/N asks with a small laugh once she’s calmed herself down a few minutes later.

Fred gives Y/N a wicked grin before he excitedly launches into the story. Y/N is laughing in minutes, her sickness not even on her mind anymore. Fred is the only thing she can think about, he’s the center of her universe and everything else around her is just background noise. She’s so entranced by his story and the way his eyes glint with mischief that she doesn’t notice they aren’t alone anymore until George is leaning over the back of the sofa and sticking his head in between them.

“Sorry to interrupt, Y/N but I need to steal my dear brother from you. We’ve got some business with Mr. Filch to deal with,” George says with a wink, clearly indicating that he and his brother are up to no good as per usual.

Fred’s mischievous grin reappears. “It’s all set up then, excellent.” He stands up, and Y/N immediately misses the feeling of his body next to hers. “It was lovely chatting with you, Y/N but I must be off now. I hope you feel better.”

Y/N watches as Fred follows his twin towards the portrait hole, only remembering that she’s still wearing his sweater as they go to leave. “Fred, wait!” When Fred turns back to look at her a blush forms across her cheeks. “You forgot your sweater.” Y/N goes to take it off, but Fred puts his hand up to stop her.

“Nah, keep it. I reckon it looks better on you anyway.” Fred shoots her a wink before he’s disappearing through the portrait hole after George.

Y/N falls back against the couch, her eyelids heavy. She’s asleep within seconds, a smile on her face and thoughts of Fred running through her mind.

but I watch your eyes As she walks by She's got you mesmerized

“You seem to be feeling much better,” Hermione says in lieu of a greeting when Y/N takes a seat next to her at the Gryffindor table for dinner.

Y/N nods, a dreamy smile on her face. How could she not be feeling better after the afternoon she had spent with Fred? After her short nap in the common room, still wrapped up in Fred’s sweater she had decided to pull herself together. She had changed out of her pajamas and tucked Fred’s sweater under her pillow, wanting to keep it to herself for just a bit longer. She managed to make her hair presentable just in time to meet Hermione, Ron and Harry at dinner.

“Did you finally go and see Madam Pomfrey?” Harry asks as they all start to pile food on their plates.

“No, just managed to finally get some good sleep,” Y/N responds, trying to be nonchalant. She allows herself to sneak a glance at Fred, who’s sitting a bit further down the table with George and Lee. They’re all laughing at something Fred has said, and Y/N can’t help but let a tiny smile form on her lips.

“That’s excellent. We’ll be able to work on our charms essay tonight then,” Hermione says, smiling to herself.

Ron shoves a fork full of food in his mouth as he rolls his eyes at Hermione. “Only you would be excited about doing homework on a Saturday.” At least that’s what Y/N thinks he says, his words are muffled from all the food he’s trying to talk around.

Harry laughs at Ron’s antics as Hermione scolds him for speaking with his mouth full, giving Y/N a chance to sneak another look at Fred. Her heart stops beating in her chest when it seems that he’s already gazing at her. But then she notices that he’s not looking at her, just in her direction. She gazes over her shoulder and a frown immediately forms on her face as she notices that Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet have just entered the Great Hall and are heading towards the other end of the table.

Y/N turns her attention back to Fred, watching as he follows Angelina’s every move. His focus is on Angelina completely, despite the fact that both George and Lee are trying to get his attention. Fred smiles at Angelina as she walks by, and her heart breaks when a pink blush forms on his cheeks after she waves at him.

Fred watches her until her and Alicia sit down, his attention finally back on his friends. Y/N tears her eyes away as Fred smiles dopily at George and Lee, not even seeming to care that they’re teasing him.

“You alright, Y/N?” Hermione asks, noticing her unusual silence.

Y/N tries to blink away her tears, praying none of her friends notice. “I’m starting to feel a bit ill again. I think I’ll go and see Madam Pomfrey after all.”

Without another word Y/N gets up and leaves the Great Hall, making a beeline for the Hospital Wing as the tears stream down her face.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty

Despite the fact that Madam Pomfrey had in fact been able to cure Y/N’s illness with a Pepperup Potion in under 30 seconds, she had allowed her to spend the night in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had claimed it was for observation purposes only, but the wink she sent to Y/N as she bid her goodnight made Y/N sure that the older woman knew she needed some time by herself.

After a night of fitful sleep, her dreams full of images of Fred and Angelina together, Y/N sneaks back up to the common room. Thankfully, it’s early enough that the common room is completely empty as she heads up to her dorm room. She pushes the door to her dorm open quietly, not trying to wake the others.

“Are you alright? We were worried when you never made it back to the common room.” Hermione asks when Y/N is barely through the door. Hermione has always been an early riser, Y/N should have figured she’d already be awake.

Y/N puts her finger over her lips and motions towards the other side of the room, not wanting Hermione to wake up their dorm mates. She barely wants to tell Hermione, her best friend, about her heart break, let alone Lavender and Parvati. The whole school will know by lunch if they find out.

She motions for Hermione to follow her and leads them both into the bathroom attached to their room. Y/N waits until the door is shut completely before she turns to Hermione. “There, no need to get the whole school involved in my business.”

“What in the world is going on with you? And why was Fred Weasley’s sweater under your pillow?” A blush spreads across Y/N’s cheeks before she’s hit with a pang of fear. Her eyes must widen, because Hermione continues a moment later. “Don’t worry I shoved it under your bed before Lavender and Parvati came in.”

Y/N puts her head in her hands. “Thank god.” She takes a deep breath before she looks up at Hermione, the other girl’s gaze is intense, and it makes Y/N feel even worse. “Well to answer your first question yes, I am fine. I wanted to be alone last night so Madam Pomfrey let me stay the night in the Hospital Wing.”

“Well that’s good I suppose. But why did you want to be alone? And that still doesn’t answer the whole Fred thing.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. She loves Hermione, she really does, but she tends to push her buttons sometimes. “Yesterday after everyone went to Hogsmeade I couldn’t sleep so I went down to the common room. Fred sat with me, saw that I was cold, and he let me wear his sweater.” Y/N can feel her cheeks heating up and she looks down to avoid Hermione’s gaze.

Hermione squeals, jumping up and down excitedly. Y/N had trusted Hermione with her secret crush on Fred over the summer, since they would be staying at The Burrow with the Weasley’s before the Quidditch World Cup, and Hermione would have no doubt figured it out on her own. When Y/N doesn’t share Hermione’s excitement she stops jumping and gives Y/N a worried look.

“Something happened, then? During dinner I presume. That’s why you wanted to be alone?”

Y/N nods, trying to blink away the tears that had suddenly formed in her eyes. It’s no wonder Fred doesn’t like me, with all this crying, she thinks to herself. I’m just his little brother’s stupid friend, nothing more. She lets a few tears fall before looking up to Hermione.

“I looked over at him while we were eating, and he was watching Angelina Johnson’s every move. He even blushed when she waved at him, he was bloody entranced by her.” Y/N pauses, and when Hermione doesn’t say anything she keeps rambling, needing to fill the silence. “And why wouldn’t he be? She’s easily the prettiest girl in their year, maybe even in the whole school. And she’s an amazing quidditch player. She’s strong willed and she doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

Y/N trails off and shuffles over to the nearest sink. She puts a hand on either side of the basin and leans forward, studying herself in the mirror. “And me? I’m just Ron’s friend. Ron’s plain old friend. I’m not even half as pretty as Angelina. It was stupid of me to think I ever had a chance with Fred.”

Y/N doesn’t hear Hermione move, so it comes as a surprise when she feels arms wrap around her middle as Hermione pulls her into a hug. “Don’t you dare say that about yourself,” Hermione scolds lightly. “You are smart, and beautiful and funny and kind. Any guy in this school would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend. So. So, to hell with Fred Weasley if he doesn’t like you back. He doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

Y/N manages to smile at Hermione’s words, her spirit picking up a little bit. “I’m never gonna be able to look at him again ‘mione. He was being so nice to me. I thought something was gonna happen between us. I was gonna kiss him! Can you imagine if I had? I’d be dead from embarrassment.” Why would he want to kiss me when he can kiss Angelina instead?

“Well yes, that would have been pretty embarrassing. But you didn’t do it, so that’s one good thing to focus on.” Hermione pulls away from Y/N and heads towards the door. “Now hurry up and get ready, I’m starving.”

Watch as she stands with her holding your hand Put your arm 'round her shoulder,

All anyone had been talking about for weeks was the Yule Ball. Anywhere Y/N went she could hear people talking about it, whether it was a group of girls talking excitedly about their dresses, or people talking about who they hoped to go with, she couldn’t escape it.

She was probably the only person in the school not looking forward to it. Not after she had watched Fred ask Angelina to go with him in front of the whole common room. His smile had lit up the entire room when she said yes. Y/N had stalked off to bed afterwards, tears filling her eyes as she wished it had been her. It had only been two weeks since Fred broke her heart and no matter how hard she tried to forget him she found herself falling more in love with him.

Y/N didn’t even plan on going, not wanting to sit there alone while the boy she couldn’t help but love danced with someone else. But Harry was a Triwizard Champion and he was just as lousy with romantic endeavors as she was, so Y/N had agreed to be his date. At least if she was going to sit there doing nothing she’d have Harry to keep her company.

“Blimey, Y/N. You look fit,” Ron says in surprise as Y/N joins him and Harry in front of the Great Hall.

She punches him in the arm as a blush forms on her cheeks. Her dress is a soft purple color and hangs off her shoulders, exposing her delicate collarbones. The bodice hugs her torso and flares out into a flowing skirt. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she waits for someone to say something to break the awkward tension.

“He’s right, Y/N. You look beautiful,” Harry adds a moment later.

Thankfully Professor McGonagall starts ushering students into the Great Hall so the Champions can enter and officially start the Ball. Ron has just left with Parvati Patel when Hermione comes down the stairs behind them, giving them a small wave before taking Viktor Krum’s arm.

“Guess we should join them,” Y/N mumbles, taking the arm that Harry offers her.

As they enter the Great Hall behind the rest of the champions Y/N can’t help but search the crowd, trying to find Fred. She finds him quite easily, thanks to his ginger hair and the fact that he and Angelina are standing quite close to the door. She only lets her eyes linger on them for a moment, but it’s long enough for her to notice that their hands are intertwined.

She bites her lip, willing the lump that has formed in her throat to go away. When they reach the dance floor and the music begins Y/N grasps Harry’s shoulders tightly as they start to dance, hoping that he twirls her hard enough to force the thoughts of Fred out of her head.

“So, you just dazzle the entire school with your wonderful dance moves and then hover by the refreshments for the rest of the night?” George asks Y/N with a grin.

After she and Harry had finished their uncoordinated dance they removed themselves from the dance floor. Y/N had sat at a table with Ron and Harry for a bit, but their miserable attitudes got to be too much for her, so she decided to grab a drink. Her sudden need for a refreshment had nothing to do with the fact that she had a perfect view of Fred and Angelina dancing.

“Dazzle? I don’t know if that’s the particular word to describe whatever Harry and I ended up doing on that dancefloor,” Y/N says with a laugh.

George shrugs his shoulders and grabs a drink as he comes to stand next to Y/N. “It’s more coordinated than whatever the hell is going on over there.” George gestures towards a group of Durmstrang boys, who are doing some combination of jumping and arm thrashing that looks more like someone drowning in a lake than dancing.

Y/N laughs again, shoving George’s shoulder lightly. “Potter may be a champion or whatever but he’s a lousy date. This is the most fun I’ve had all night.” She pauses, looking up at George. “What about you? Where’s your date?”

George shrugs nonchalantly, taking a long sip of his drink. “Decided to be bold, come by myself.” When Y/N gives him a questioning look he continues. “The girl I wanted to go with got asked by someone else and I really couldn’t be bothered to find another date.”

Y/N hums in understanding, giving George a nod. “Yeah, that’s how I ended up with my winner of a date.”

George says something else to her, but all her focus is on Fred and Angelina. They’ve finally stopped dancing and are heading right towards where Y/N and George are standing. The grip she has on her cup tightens as Fred puts his arm around Angelina’s shoulders, pulling her close to his side. I would give anything to be Angelina, Y/N thinks to herself as Angelina’s arms wind around Fred’s middle. They pass by George and Y/N without even sparing them a glance and leave the Great Hall.

She hears George mutter something about how they’re probably going to go make out somewhere, but the sound of her heart breaking even further is too loud in her ears for her to be sure. She hears herself bid goodnight to George before she’s turning on her heal and making a mad dash back to her dorm.

Y/N manages to keep her tears inside until she’s curled up in bed, her arms hugging Fred’s sweater tightly to her chest.

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel But then again, kinda wish she were dead

In the days following the Yule Ball Y/N does her best to keep to herself. She heads to meals early, so she’s already eaten by the time the rest of the school heads to the Great Hall. Since it’s still the Christmas holidays the Gryffindor common room is always packed full of students, so she spends most of her time in the library and doesn’t head back until late at night when most of her house is already asleep.

She knows her friends are worried about her and she misses spending time with them, but she can’t bring herself to. Wherever Ron, Harry and Hermione are it’s likely that Fred and George will be lurking around somewhere, and she’s not ready to face Fred yet. She feels like such an idiot, she had let her daydreams get the better of her. After that day in the common room she thought that something would happen between her and Fred, but as she falls asleep every night she can’t help but think that it was all in her head.

So, Y/N sits in the library everyday with only Madam Pince to keep her company, her schoolbooks spread out in front of her but not much work being done. She always means to get work done, but she can’t help but let her mind wander to Fred. As much as it hurts her to, she can’t stop thinking about him. It doesn’t help that she still has his sweater tucked under her pillow. It still smells like him, and as she drifts to sleep at night she likes to pretend he’s right there next to her.

“Hey, Y/N. How’s it going?”

Y/N can feel the blood run out of her face as she looks up at the person who pulled her from her thoughts of Fred and is met with Angelina Johnson. Her grip on her quill tightens as a blush spreads across her cheeks. Y/N smiles at Angelina, trying to seem normal.

“It’s going alright. Just working on a potions essay Snape set for the break,” she answers casually. She watches Angelina’s eyes flick towards the parchment in front of her, which is completely empty. “Or trying to at least,” Y/N adds quickly, trying to think of a reason as to why her sheet is blank. “Potions isn’t really my best class.”

While it’s not a lie, Y/N still feels bad. She had already planned out her entire essay, she was just too busy thinking about Fred and Angelina breaking up to actually write it all down. But what was she supposed to say? I was too busy thinking about you dying so I could have your boyfriend to do my homework.

“Snape is such a prick. He gave us an essay as well. I could help you, if you want. Potions isn’t my best class either, but I bet with both of our intelligence combined we could knock it out in no time,” she offers with a warm smile.

Y/N feels like she is going to throw up. Angelina is being so nice to her, and Y/N doesn’t deserve it. She’s spent the past few weeks hating Angelina’s guts, wishing that Fred would break her heart just as he had broken hers. But, it’s not Angelina’s fault that Fred had hurt her. It’s not like Angelina stole her boyfriend or something, she has no idea that Y/N likes Fred. Not even Fred knows.

Y/N nods, moving some of her stuff so Angelina can sit down. “That would be great, thanks.”

As they work together quietly, Y/N feels worse and worse about her thoughts over these past few weeks. Angelina isn’t the evil witch she’d made her out to be in her head. She’s actually an angel and she feels intense regret for kind of wishing she was dead. She’s in the middle of copying something down when Angelina nudges her.

“What did you think of the ball? It looked like you were having fun with George.” Angelina’s tone seems casual, but Y/N can tell she isn’t just asking her a random question.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, deciding to play into whatever game Angelina was baiting her into. “It was alright. And yeah, I guess I had fun with George, we only talked for a few minutes before I decided to leave.”

Angelina doesn’t do a great job at hiding her surprise. “Oh, really? I heard from um, someone, that you guys spent most of the night together.”

Y/N gives Angelina a look. “Really? That’s odd. I danced with Harry once and then sat with him and Ron for a bit. I went and got a drink, talked to George for a bit and then went back up to my room.”

“Oh. So, you don’t like George? Like more than a friend?” Angelina asks, again, failing at sounding casual.

Y/N shakes her head. “God no. I mean he’s a great bloke but there’s someone else that I like. More than a friend.” Y/N mentally slaps herself, wondering why in the world she felt the need to tell Angelina that.

Luckily the older girl doesn’t question her further, she just murmurs out a quiet, “Interesting,” before she turns her attention back to Y/N’s potions essay.

You gave her your sweater It's just polyester But you like her better

After Angelina’s odd behavior in the library, Y/N had decided it was time to start hanging out with her friends again. Not only was she hoping to avoid another weird conversation, she truly had missed them. And her timing seemed perfect, as the second task was quickly approaching, and Harry needed all the help he could get.

Helping Harry is a nice distraction, but she can’t help but let her eyes wander in Fred’s direction every once in a while. She still feels so strongly for him, and Y/N doubts that is going to change anytime soon. Especially since it seems Fred and George are always hovering by them. As Y/N and the rest pour over books in the common room they’re always only a few seats away, and Y/N is sure she catches a glimpse of their red hair in the library a few times as her and Harry study the titles to find more books to bring to Ron and Hermione.

Y/N is so exhausted from helping Harry, that she doesn’t notice that neither Ron or Hermione are with them on the day of the second task until her and Harry are heading towards the black lake. Part of her is worried for her friends, the other is filled with panic. She had planned on sitting with Ron and Hermione as far away from Fred, George and Angelina as possible.

When they finally reach the platform in the middle of the lake, Y/N wishes Harry good luck and starts to search the crowd, hoping to find a group of familiar faces to join. Before she even has the chance to try and join Neville, Dean and Seamus she feels someone grab her arm.

“Come sit with us,” George says, already guiding her up the stairs. Y/N doesn’t need a crystal ball to know that the ‘us’ he is referring to is Fred, Lee and Angelina. She follows behind him all the way up to the top platform, trying to think of how to sneak away. But of course, Fred and George had managed to get the best spots on the platform, so there’s no hope that she’ll be able to shrink away, not with all the people around.

“Look who I found!” George shouts as they reach the others, everyone turning to look at them. Y/N blushes as Fred smiles at her, her eyes dropping to the ground. She can feel Lee pat her on the shoulder, and she decides to stand in between him and George. Except when she finally takes her eyes off the ground and looks up, George is nowhere to be found, instead Fred is looking down at her.

Her cheeks heat up and she immediately looks out at the lake so that she doesn’t get lost in his eyes. Y/N had been trying to get over Fred, the last thing she needs is to fall even more in love with him. At least you’ll have the task to focus on she thinks wistfully, letting herself glance at Fred, butterflies erupting in her stomach when she notices that he’s still looking at her.

“So, who do you think is gonna win? It’s gotta be Harry, right? I mean you’ve been spending so much time with him, he’s gotta be the best prepared,” Fred says with a grin. But as Y/N allows herself to look at him closely she can tell that he’s tense.

Before she can stutter out a reply Dumbledore is announcing the rules of the task and Filch is setting off the cannon, officially starting the task. Everyone starts to cheer as the champions dive into the water, but after they’ve all disappeared under the water they start to die down. The water is pitch black, and they all seem to disappear into the lake’s depths within a few seconds.

“I guess we’re just supposed to stand here and wait? I guess?” Angelina says from Fred’s other side. Y/N frowns at her proximity to Fred and focuses her attention back on the lake.

“You alright?” Fred asks, leaning down to whisper in Y/N’s ear.

Goosebumps pop up on her skin where his breath touches and her face turns crimson red. She just nods, not entirely trusting her voice. She can feel Fred’s eyes on her, and it takes everything in her power not to return his gaze. Y/N knows that if she were to look at him now she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from lunging forward and kissing him in front of the entire school, his girlfriend included.

Luckily Lee says something that grabs Fred’s attention and she can take a deep breath.

By the time Cedric reappears from the water with Cho Chang by his side, Y/N is absolutely freezing. They’re 45 minutes into the task, and so far only Fleur and Cedric have come back. While their spot has the best view, it’s so high in the air that the wind is bitter, and Y/N is shivering despite the fact that she’s wearing her heaviest jacket.

Luckily Krum reappears with Hermione next to him only a few minutes later, and the energy in the crowd ramps up. Everyone is cheering loudly again, and Y/N is too busy watching for Harry to notice how close Fred is to her.

Harry manages to appear from the water a few minutes after the time has run out, both Ron and a little blonde girl, who Y/N guesses is Fleur’s sister, by his side. The cheers only increase in volume as Dumbledore announces that Harry will get second place on account of his bravery.

Y/N feels as if she is on cloud nine. Not only had she just spent the last hour standing so close to Fred that their arms brushed against each other, but Harry had managed to do excellent in the task. Unfortunately, all that euphoria disappears as they start to head back down to the boats.

“Boy am I glad that’s over. It’s absolutely freezing out here. Good thing I had your sweater to keep me warm, Freddie,” Angelina says, her voice dripping with sweetness.

Y/N can feel her knees quiver as she glances at Angelina and the big fat letter F in the middle of the jumper she’s wearing. Tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, and she starts shoving through the crowd, trying to get as far away from Fred as possible.

The one thing she had held on to through all of this was Fred’s sweater. Y/N slept with it in her arms every night, it made her feel special. Fred may have chosen Angelina, but he had given her his sweater. It was her only glimmer of hope that someday something may happen between her and the boy who held her heart. But now, it meant nothing.

Y/N can hear Fred calling her name as she runs away, but she continues to push forward through the crowd. She’s making her way down the second set of stairs when she feels a hand wrap around her wrist.

“Y/N wait. Look at me,” Fred begs, tugging her close to him. Y/N turns around to look at Fred, who is standing on the stair above her, a desperate look on his face. Tears have started to stream down her face, and she bats away Fred’s hand when he tries to wipe them away. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, please.” His grip on her wrist tightens.

“You gave her your sweater,” she practically shouts at him, her voice full of misery. Y/N is sure that everyone around them is staring, but she can’t seem to care. She’s been in pain for weeks and it’s all coming out now.

Fred’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “It’s just a sweater.”

Y/N sniffles, as more tears start to stream down her face. Just a sweater.

“So that’s all it was when you gave me your sweater? That day in the common room? Just a sweater,” she mocks. Fred opens his mouth to respond, but Y/N cuts him off. “You said it looked better on me. I thought you were flirting with me. I thought you liked me.”

Y/N feels like she’s going to pass out, Fred is standing there in front of her not saying anything. She starts to wipe the tears away as Angelina, George and Lee start to come down the stairs behind them.

“It clearly doesn’t matter what I think. Or what I want. You like her better,” she whimpers, gesturing towards Angelina. Before Fred even has a chance to react she’s running away again, down the stairs and back towards the boats. She takes a seat next to Neville in one of the boats and tucks her knees into her chest, trying to ignore everyone’s stares as Fred calls out her name.

Wish I were Heather

“I figured I would find you here,” Fred says softly from behind her.

Y/N bites her lip, quickly trying to wipe away her tears. After the absolute fiasco that had gone down between her and Fred all she wanted was to be alone. So instead of heading to the common room she wandered up to the astronomy tower. She’s not sure how long she’s been out here, but her hands are nearly numb from the cold and the sun has started to set.

When she doesn’t say anything, Fred comes up behind her and drapes a blanket over her shoulders before standing next to her. He leans his back up against the railing so he can look down at her face.

“Talk to me, please,” he begs.

His voice sends shivers down Y/N’s spine and it’s taking all of her willpower not to inch closer to him. She doesn’t say anything but allows herself to look up at him. Her cheeks heat up when she realizes that he’s already staring at her and she stops herself from looking away. He looks worried and hurt, and as much as Y/N thinks he deserves it for hurting her, she can’t help but feel guilty.

Fred reaches a hand up to cup her cheek and she melts into his touch. Her stomach is in knots and she feels lightheaded. As much as she hates to admit it, Fred Weasley still owns her whole heart. Even if his belongs to another girl.

When Y/N doesn’t pull away he starts to slowly stroke her cheek. “What are you thinking about?”

“Honestly?” she responds, wincing when her voice cracks. When Fred nods she continues. “I’m thinking about how much I wish I was Angelina.” When Fred doesn’t say anything, she continues. “I’m thinking about how much I wish you would look at me like you do her. I’m thinking about how much I wish you would have asked me to the Yule Ball. I’m thinking about how it would have felt as you twirled me in your arms. I’m thinking how it would have felt to kiss you. I’m thinking about how it would feel to be loved by you.”

Y/N hadn’t noticed that she was crying again until Fred’s thumb quickly wiped away her tears. She’s in disbelief that she just said all of those things to Fred. Her chest feels lighter now that she isn’t harboring such a huge secret, but a pit of despair has started to form in her stomach.

“Why are you thinking all of those things,” Fred asks, looking deep into Y/N’s eyes.

Y/N sighs in exasperation. She takes a deep breath, trying to find the courage to admit the things she’s felt for as long as she can remember. “I’m thinking all of those things because I’m in love with you, Fred Weasley. Even if you aren’t in love with me.”

Fred doesn’t respond. Instead he closes the gap between them and presses their lips together in a heated kiss. Y/N is frozen in place as her eyes flutter shut. Fred Weasley is kissing me. Oh my god Fred Weasley is kissing me, is the only thought running through her head. And as much as she wants to kiss him back, she can’t.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Y/N whispers, pulling away from Fred’s mouth, her eyes still shut. She desperately wants to look at him, but she can’t. “You have a girlfriend, Fred. And no matter what I feel for you, Angelina is a nice girl and I can’t do that to her. And you shouldn’t do that to her either.”

Fred chuckles as the hand he isn’t using to cup Y/N’s cheek comes up to grip her waist. She finally looks at him, confusion all over her face.

“Angelina Johnson isn’t my girlfriend,” he says casually, as if that is a sufficient enough explanation for everything that’s happened over the past few months. He leans forward to connect their lips again, but Y/N pushes his chest back slightly.

“I’m going to need more than that, Fred. Because I’ve spent the last three months dying inside as I watched you fall in love with her. So, you can’t just come up here and kiss me like none of that ever happened,” she explains, her words tinted with anger. Despite the anger that’s bubbling in her stomach, she can’t help but lean into his embrace.

“You looked so beautiful, that day in the common room,” he starts, a pink blush appearing on his cheeks. “You were sitting there, all alone wrapped up in your blanket. The fire was reflecting off of your face, it looked like you were glowing.” Fred pauses so he can tuck a piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear.

“I was only supposed to run up to our dorm to grab something George and I needed for our prank on Filch,” he continues a moment later, his eyes staring deeply into Y/N’s. “But I couldn’t help myself. That was the first time you had been alone all school year and I needed to be close to you. It was so hard not to pull you into my chest and comfort you when you said you were sick. That’s why I gave you my sweater. So, I could be close to you without being close to you. If that makes sense.”

Y/N chuckles and she can feel how red her cheeks are from Fred’s words alone. She’s sure that if she opens her mouth to speak the swarm of butterflies in her stomach will fly out, so she places the hand that had been on Fred’s chest on his neck, letting her fingers tangle in his long hair. She tugs the strands lightly encouraging him to continue with his story.

“And I noticed, how you stared at me when I took it off. I honestly thought you were going to start drooling,” Fred teases with a chuckle as Y/N’s blush deepens even further. “And then when I got closer to you to put the sweater on for you I thought that you were going to kiss me and so when you looked away I thought it was all just in my head.”

Y/N frowns as she mentally curses herself out. I should have just kissed him. Would have saved so much god damn time.

Fred leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead before he continues. “But the way you looked at me, when I was talking about the stink bomb I knew you felt something for me. I just needed to figure out a way to get you to admit it. That’s why I let you keep the sweater too. I was hoping I could catch you wearing it again. Partially because it would have been helpful in getting you to admit you liked me, but mostly because it doeslook better on you. You look beautiful in everything you wear but seeing you in my sweater,” Fred pauses as he lets out a groan, his grip on Y/N’s waist tightening.

“How does Angelina fit into all of this, then? Because when I saw you look at her a few hours later, I could have sworn that you were in love with her,” Y/N says, her voice shaking. She’s still confused, and doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but everything that Fred is saying is making her heart swoon.

“Well after George and I set off a firework show in Filch’s office we were running away and quite literally ran into Angelina and Alicia who were coming back from Hogsmeade. I know Angelina has had a crush on George since like, first year, so we devised a plan that was beneficial to the both of us. George would finally stop being thick and notice Angelina and you would admit your feelings for me.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, and she raises her hand to smack him in the chest, but he manages to grab it in time. Fred interlaces their fingers and brings her hand up to his mouth, peppering it with soft kisses. “Let me finish explaining, please. You can be mad at me all you want after but just let me get it all out.” He continues to pepper her hand with soft kisses until he can feel Y/N relax in his embrace. He brings their hands down to their sides but keeps them interlaced.

“In the Great Hall that night Angelina and Alicia waited in the corridor until they saw you come in and sit down. I kept making George and Lee laugh, I knew that would get you to look over at us, I’d seen you do it before.” Fred rubs her cheek with his thumb as her blush comes back, Y/N often looked over at Fred during meals but had thought she was sneaky enough to get away with it.

“When she walked by I was staring at her but I was thinking about you. I was thinking about your laugh, and the way you scrunch your nose when you’re annoyed. I was thinking about the little wrinkle you get in between your eyebrows when you get frustrated at your coursework. I was thinking about your smile and how beautiful you looked when I caught you dancing with Ginny and Hermione in your pajamas last summer.”

Y/N groans at the memory, causing Fred to laugh. Hermione had brought a muggle radio with her to the burrow, and they were up late one night, just goofing off and dancing around Ginny’s room together. They had accidentally left the door cracked, and Fred and George had burst into Ginny’s room to see what all the noise was. Y/N had been wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of shorts that were two sizes too small and her cheeks had burned bright red as Fred had looked her up and down.

“I can’t believe you remember that. I was so embarrassed. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole,” she grumbles, the anger she had just felt completely washing away. Y/N lets herself fall into Fred’s chest, her arms wrapping around his middle and her face pressing into his neck. Fred laughs and finally let’s go of her hand so he can wrap one arm around her waist fully, his other reaching up to stroke her hair.

“Of course, I remember that. That’s the moment I fell in love with you. You looked so carefree, dancing around with your friends, with my little sister. It was like you belonged there,” Fred whispers the last part, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head. It was no secret that the Weasley boys all had soft spots for their younger sister and seeing Y/N get along so well with Ginny made Fred fall even harder for her.

“You are such a sap Fred Weasley,” Y/N teases lightly. Her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest. “Go on then, continue telling me about your master grand plan or whatever.”

Fred chuckles. “When George, Lee and I got back to the common room that night I figured you’d be there waiting to talk to me or something. But you weren’t. And when I saw you at Breakfast the next day you didn’t even look at me. I could tell George was falling into our trap, but you had gotten so distant I wasn’t sure what was going on in your head.”

Y/N can feel herself getting angry again, but she takes a deep breath, letting Fred’s scent calm her down. She had promised to hear Fred out before she got angry at him and she plans to keep that promise.

“I hadn’t planned on asking Angelina to the Yule Ball, but when George didn’t ask her she told me to. She said it was a surefire way for us to get what we both wanted. And so, I did. I did it while you were there, thinking that maybe you’d stand up and tell Angelina to fuck off or something. But you got all quiet and stormed off instead.” Fred pauses, squeezing Y/N tighter against his chest.

“I wanted to follow you so badly,” he continues a moment later, and Y/N can hear the regret in his voice. “But I had made a promise to Angelina. I figured you would go alone, and that the mess I had gotten in would fix itself at the dance. And then Ron told us that you were going with Harry. You looked so beautiful, Y/N. I was so jealous of Harry, that he got to touch you,” Fred stops himself, jealousy building up in his throat just from the thought of Y/N being with someone else.

He presses his face to the top of her head, taking a deep breath. Sensing his tension, Y/N presses a kiss to his neck. “And then I saw you standing with George and I nearly lost my mind, that’s why Angelina and I left. You were being so, playful with him like you usually were with me. I thought maybe instead of pushing you to admit how you feel for me I had pushed you into the arms of someone else.”

“is that why Angelina came up to me in the library? She was trying to sus out what I was feeling?” She asks, so many things finally making sense.

Fred hums, and Y/N shivers as the rumble vibrates through her whole body. Fred squeezes her tighter. “George had somehow figured out what we were up to and decided to turn the table. The next day at breakfast all he could talk about was you, and how much fun he had with you after we left. I figured he was just trying to get a reaction out of me, but the thought of you wanting someone else hurt so much. So, I sent Angelina off to do some recon.”

“Then why continue playing your stupid little game? I told Angelina that I wasn’t into George,” Y/N questions, pulling her head away from Fred’s warmth so she can look him in the eyes. He returns her gaze, and it still causes her to blush, despite the fact that she’s been cuddled into him for at least 20 minutes. The sun has nearly set, and the golden rays reflecting off of Fred’s hair make him look like an Angel. She allows her gaze to drop to his lips for a moment, wishing that they were on hers once again.

“Yes, but you told her that you liked someone else, more than a friend,” Fred reminds her, a smirk forming on his lips. “And then you started hanging out with your friends again and you were spending so much time with Harry.”

“You thought I liked Harry?” Y/N asks in surprise, cutting Fred off. When he nods she laughs, unable to stop herself. “I don’t mean to laugh at you love. Well actually I do but, I can’t believe that you thought I was into Harry.”

Fred frowns at her, the hand that had been stroking her hair coming to cup her cheek once again. “And why wouldn’t you fancy Harry? He’s a top-class bloke I’ll have you know,” Fred teases with a chuckle. “And I was feeling insecure,” he admits sheepishly.

Y/N instantly feels bad for laughing and presses a kiss to Fred’s cheek as a way of apologizing. Fred and the word insecure have never once crossed her mind at the same time. Fred was always the life of the party, confident in himself and his actions. He liked being the center of attention and was always trying to get more eyes on him.

Knowing that he’s standing here with her barring his soul to her fills Y/N with warmth. Fred Weasley never let anyone see this side of him and yet here he is, laying it all out for her. While Fred’s actions may have been questionable to her, they came from such a place of pure sincerity that she can’t be mad at him. If anything, it makes her love him more, if that’s even possible.

“So, what was your plan today, hm? How was Angelina wearing your sweater going to push us together?”

“I’m getting there, don’t you worry,” Fred teases. “Actually, I’ll have you know that today’s plan was all George’s idea, so if my actions today lead you to never want to talk to me again just know that it’s George you should be mad at, not me.”

Y/N rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything. She presses her face back into Fred’s neck, encouraging him to continue.

“By this point George had been fully briefed on the situation, since he finally got the nerve to just ask Angelina out. Took him long enough if you ask me.” Fred pauses when Y/N laughs into his neck. “Hey, I don’t want to hear it from you. I was in far too deep to just ask you out, alright?” Y/N squeezes Fred’s middle, causing him to smile. “Anyway, he knew about the whole sweater thing. So, he suggested that Angelina wear the sweater mum sent for me this Christmas. Thinking it would send you into a jealous rage.”

“That was obviously a mistake,” Fred admits sheepishly. “But anyway. George waited by the boats for you to arrive with Harry, so he could make sure that you came and stood with us. When you didn’t notice the sweater right away I figured the plan was over. But then Angelina managed to sneak in a mention and well this is where I definitely need to apologize to you.”

“I thought I was special,” Y/N murmurs into Fred’s neck. “I knew, or at least thought I knew, that you were in love with Angelina. But I was the one you gave your sweater too. I was the one that got to cuddle it close every night. It gave me one sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe someday you’d be laying in bed cuddling me instead.”

When Fred doesn’t say anything, Y/N continues. “But then she was wearing your sweater and I wanted to throw up. My last shred of hope that you would ever love me was destroyed, and I just needed to get away from you.” Her voice cracks as a fresh set of tears flow down her face. Y/N pulls away from Fred so she can look him in the eyes and more tears cascade down her face when she sees the pain in his.

“I am so sorry, Y/N.” Fred lets go of her so his hands can come up and brush away her tears. “When you were standing there on the stairs you looked so broken and knowing I made you feel like that. I couldn’t say anything, I couldn’t find the right words. And then you were gone, and I wanted to fling myself into the lake.”

Fred’s arms wrap around her waist again and Y/N lets herself cuddle close to him. Her own arms wrap around his neck and she starts to play with his hair. They just stand there, looking at each other for a few moments, both of them unsure what to say next.

“Say something, please,” Fred begs when the silence gets to be too much. “Anything. Even if you tell me to fuck off and never talk to you again. Just, say something.”

Y/N smiles up at him. “Kiss me.”

“Come again?” Fred asks, afraid that his ears are playing tricks on him.

“Kiss me,” Y/N breathes, her face slowly inching closer to Fred’s.

Fred doesn’t need to hear it again. The second the words have left Y/N’s mouth he’s closing the gap between them and their lips meet in a heated kiss. Except this time Y/N isn’t frozen in place. She moves her mouth in time with his and presses herself closer to Fred, needing to feel his body against hers.

Y/N’s knees quiver as he deepens their kiss and her whole body feels like it’s on fire. This is everything she has ever wanted, and she almost can’t believe it’s actually happening.

“I love you,” Fred says softly when their kiss breaks, both of them needing to catch their breath. “I love you so much and I am such an idiot and I am so sorry for hurting you.” Fred cups her cheeks so that he can gaze into Y/N’s eyes. Both of their cheeks are flushed, and Y/N doesn’t think she could look away from the loving look Fred is giving her even if she wanted to. “I don’t deserve your love and I’ll do anything it takes for you to be mine. I’ll apologize to you every day for the rest of forever if I have to.”

Y/N presses their foreheads together as she kisses Fred briefly. “Every day? For the rest of forever? That’s a pretty long time,” she teases with a laugh.

Fred chuckles, kissing her softly. “Now that I’ve got you I’m never letting you go.”

They stand there together in silence for a few moments, basking in the warmth their love has created around them. They’re both smiling at each other, and Y/N is sure that she’d float away if Fred wasn’t holding her so tightly.

“Can you just promise me one thing?” Y/N asks quietly, twirling a piece of Fred’s hair around her finger.

“Anything, my love.” Fred squeezes her even tighter, his lips brushing against hers.

“Promise me that I’ll be the only girl you ever give another one of your sweaters too,” Y/N says quietly, trying to seem playful. But Fred can sense the hint of seriousness behind her words.

“I promise, every day for the rest of forever,” he chuckles.

Y/N kisses him hard, trying to convey every ounce of love she has for Fred through this one kiss. Every day for the rest of forever may seem like a long time, but after spending so long without Fred, it doesn’t seem like enough.

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley x reader #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #fw #golden

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fumingspice · 3 years

Text

All The Things She Said

Part: One Two Three

Requests are open and I don’t have a life so knock yourself out with them xo

Pairing: Lana Winters x Reader

lit the last update so that i cant put off seven wonders any longer. enjoy. mwah

Warnings: one (1) hot and sexy milf, implied smut

It made Lana Winters’ blood boil to the core seeing you, your friends and yourIt made Lana Winters’ blood boil to the core seeing you, your friends and your date discussing themes, co-ordinations, transport and the apartment you had all planned to book to stay overnight in. You could see it in her when she overheard Heather or Emmett making jokes that you were getting attention after your promposal.

You knew the idea of organised formal events gave her headaches unless she really wanted to go, so frankly you were pretty surprised when you found out she would be one of the teachers chaperoning the dance.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Emmett asked, smothing down a suit he was tryin on. Just a few more days to go until the prom. “I thought you said she broke it off.”

You unfolded your arms and straightened yourself up to read a few dress magazines which were sitting on a stool in the viewing room. “She did,” you replied, looking at different dresses on each page to try and get some sembelnce of what you wanted to wear.

Emmett looked fantastic in his suit. “Be honest, Y/N. Is she bothering you?”

You shook your head and chuckled. “Gosh, no. Not at all,” you replied. That was true after all, you were keeping up with the prom thing because you knew that it trained Lana’s attention back on you.

“If you say so,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Did you hear that her title got changed? She must have finally signed the divorce papers.”

You were frozen slightly for a moment. The news that Lana had actually signed for divorce after having put it off for years made the entire thing seem real.

And on God you loved the feeling.

“Are you ready to go dress shopping?”

You nodded, a wide grin showing on your face. The three of you strode out to the dress shop. Heather already had her heart set on a specific dress that she had seen months ago. You, on the other hand, had barely given it a second thought.

Manny was insistent on purple, claiming that it was your perfect colour.

It was also the colour of Lana’s bedsheets the first time you’d visited her home.

So, it was decided. A beautiful, vibrant purple dress with a slit that went up your thigh. Strapless. Just how Lana liked it.

The prom was taking place out of town in a hotel built around the ruins of an old castle. Your legs and jaw jittered out of every feeling swirling around your body and mind. The sea of your peers socialising, dancing, not-so discreetly drinking in the lit-up ruins was magical. It was like the essence of whatever parties must have taken place between the old walls of the ballroom came back to life every so often.

You noticed Lana through the corner of your eye wearing a red dress. Her eyes softened as she took you in, noticeably getting distracted from her conversation with another teacher as she raised her eyebrows at you.

You glanced away, making sure not to show her any emotion whatsoever.

When you had walked far enough through the lobby, Lana took your hand and walked slightly faster. There was an empty first-aid suite in the hall, lined with small beds incase guests ever got too drunk or took ill. Weird thing to have.

You danced and sang, drank, and laughed with your friends, swinging from Manny’s arms and pulling him in close. You certainly didn’t just look like friends tonight and it was driving Lana insane.

After what had been hours of stolen glances, longing stares and not so accidental brushes of contact, you finally worked up your nerve to go talk to her when she went behind one of the far-off stone pillars for a cigarette.

“I knew you weren’t going to be able to hold off those all night,” you said. Lana turned in surprise.

“I didn’t think you were going to speak to me tonight,” she replied, taking a deep inhale. “You seemed more than happy with your date.”

You smirked at her ill-attempt to sound irritated.

“Can I bum a cigarette?” You asked. You leant against the pillar on your back so that she couldn’t look away from you again.

Lana chuckled as she passed to you. “I thought you had no interest in smoking.”

You coughed heavily. “I don’t,” you wheezed. “But you look hot as shit when you do it and I wanted another way to keep your attention on me.”

The brunette shook her head. “Your wearing your necklace,” she admired, pulling at her own.

You nodded. “I had to have some symbol of the one I love on me.” Your words left your mouth before you even had time to process it. You muttered a profanity under your breath. “I’m sorry, Lana. I wasn’t thinking-”

Lana didn’t skip a beat in taking your hand and guiding you back into the main building of the hotel without explaining herself.

Your confusion almost continued until Lana opened the door and pulled you into the room. Before you had time to open your mouth and ask what on Earth was going on, she pressed you against the door and kissed you.

With that, it was like a magnet being held back was allowed to swing to its attraction. You clutched your arms over her neck, arching your back so that your bodies met. Lana's lips eloped yours as her hands stayed trained on your back and waist.

How on Earth did your French teacher manage to be the one who touched you and set your soul on fire.

Lana's tongue met with yours, her teeth biting down on your lips then going for your jawline. Tiny blotches appeared under her bites and nips as she guided you towards one of the beds and sat on it with you between your legs.

You tried to keep up with her pace, but in reality, you had never experienced something like this before with Lana. By now you felt like you had kissed her a hundred thousand times, but nothing came quite close to the feeling of having the room set on fire and watching from within the flames.

You felt one of Lana's hands trailing from your belly, over your breasts and resting on your throat in a light squeeze. You broke free from her kiss, your lips visibly swollen. Lana's mouth trailed your neck and jawline.

"I thought we were casual," you breathed, her actions driving into your abdomen.

Lana chuckled breathily. "Oh, baby girl. There's nothing casual about you and I.”

Her answer was satisfied you enough to let her get back to the kissing. For now, at least. You were going to absolutely milk the life out of Lana for having ever suggested that you anything less, but right now you just wanted her to work off her damn jealousy.

“God, Lana,” you spoke between her fiery kisses. “If I knew this is how you were when you were jealous then I would’ve acted up weeks ago.”

Lana chuckled into your skin. “Jesus H. Christ, you have quite the mouth, Y/N.”

Her eyes, dark and glossed, collided with your stare. She had the most beautiful brown eyes you had ever seen, and you were almost willing to get lost in her warm gaze. Lana pulled your body onto the bed and lent over you.

Lana’s nails scratched lines up your thigh, navigating themselves under your dress to the point that your eyes snapped open and your breath hitched.

“You put a lot of thought into getting this dress, didn’t you?” she asked. “You told me that you hated slit dresses and that you wouldn’t wear one unless you absolutely had to.”

You smirked. “Clever girl,” you whispered, feeling her hand scratch further up your thigh. Her fingers had almost reached between your legs when Lana pulled back.

“You aren’t wearing underwear?” You nodded and got met with Lana’s melodic laugh. “Y/N, you really are something.”

You could hear the music pounding from outside. t.A.T.u’s “All The Things She Said” had always been a song that you had made a mental note about getting railed to, and right now that somewhat looked like your wish was about to come true.

You took Lana’s hand and pushed it closer to your centre, moaning when you felt her fingers cold against you.

Whispers of, “are you sure?” were followed by slow moves being made for the first time as your lover delicately slipped her fingers to where you were desperate for.

She was slow and gentle, drawing low moans from your like a confession. You would’ve been more than happy to lay under Lana and allow her to watch you be completely undone by the delicate touch of her fingers and mouth, and you knew for a fact that there was no way you would be joining you friends in the rented apartment tonight. Eventually, your own hand slid up Lana’s dress and between her thighs. Your joint moans sparked up a weird melody of romance.

“I love you too,” she whispered into your lips as your arm tightened around her when you had both finished.

“You know, if that’s what’s going to happen every time I say something like that then I’m going to have to say it more often.”

Even now, after the years. The loving, the learning, the fighting and the experience. Proving your sanity to your mom, who eventually approved of your relationship. It was always Lana, and it was always you.

taglist: @sarahp-stan @jumpoffabridge-t @sarahpaulsonsoftie @definitelynot-a-writer @bottom4delia @delias-bitch-craft @creepingwolfberry @thesapphictimelady @goodeday2u @that-fucking-error @saucy-sapphic

#ahs #ahs imagines #lana winters #lana winters x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #sally mckenna #sally mckenna x reader #ahs murder house #ahs coven #ahs apocolaypse #i literally hate this but i was desperate to finish it im sorry #i swear i'll make a decent fic at some stage

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jjmaybanksbaby · 3 years

Text

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer II

Part 03: Been A While

series masterlist | previous part

summary: Your second summer in the Outer Banks becomes a whole lot more complicated when you realize a year away from Rafe hasn't changed your feelings for him at all.

a/n: And we're back with summer two - the summer before sophomore year whoop whoop! Writing this gave me butterflies so I hope you have the same feeling reading it! I always love hearing y’all’s commentary so don't be shy to scream about your favorite parts back at me.

word count: 2.5k words

Your mom reached over and tapped you gently on the arm.

"Put your phone away please, y/n. You can text Evan when we land."

"We're not even moving yet." You replied.

As if on cue, the pilot's voice echoed over the intercom. "Good morning passengers. This is your captain speaking. Welcome onboard Flight 4B7 with service from Portland to the Outer Banks. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage..."

You stashed your phone in the pocket of the seat in front of you and closed your eyes, hoping that by the time you woke up you would be landing.

After the way last summer had gone, you were surprised when your mom announced that you were spending the summer in the Outer Banks again.

Frankly, you weren't that happy to be headed to North Carolina. Alice and Kensie, your two best friends back home, had opted not to go to camp this summer so the three of you had planned to spend every day at Alice's pool, biking to the Dairy Queen a few blocks away or begging of your moms to drive you to the mall.

Plus, there was Evan. Your boyfriend of six months. You'd both been cast as the understudies for the leads in the fall musical. Because of some freak food-poisoning accident, both you and Evan had to go on as Cinderella and Prince Charming in the final show. When he kissed you under the bright stage lights, it had felt like more than just a stage kiss. He'd asked you out at the cast party later than night and you'd been dating ever since.

Evan was great. He really was. He was thoughtful and cared about you. But ever since your mom had bought the plane tickets to the Outer Banks back in March, every time you kissed Evan you could only think of Rafe Cameron.

☼☼☼

You trailed behind your mother on the way to baggage claim, bent over your phone responding to the texts Alice and Kensie had sent in the group chat while you'd been in the air. Apparently, they'd bumped into Kensie's crush and need to analyze every detail. A feeling of jealously you hadn't anticipated crept into your chest, weighing you down. Even indoors, the muggy heat of the Outer Banks made it clear how far from Oregan - and from your people - you were.

You looked around the airport, searching for the baggage claim with your flight number and noticed an incredibly familiar head of blonde head of hair standing nearby.

"Sarah Cameron?" You asked.

Sarah spun around a joyful smile on her face. "Oh my god! Y/n!" She ran over, wrapping you in a hug. "Are you back for the summer?"

You nodded your head which elicited another excited scream from her.

"What are you doing at the airport?" You asked her.

"You'll never guess! We're getting a house in the Bahamas!" She gushed.

"Sarah!" A deep voice called. You looked up to see another older-looking version of Rafe headed in your direction.

Your mom froze beside you. "Oh dear," she whispered.

The man's gaze didn't leave your mom. "Heather," he said.

"Ward," she responded.

Oh, you thought. So that's Rafe's dad.

"It's good to see you," your mom continued. "You look," she paused for moment, "good."

"You as well," Ward responded.

The carousel behind you started to move and luggage streamed out.

"That's us," your mom said, pointing over to the moving carousel. "We should go."

"I'll tell Rafe you're back," Sarah whispered to you. "He's gonna be so excited."

You smiled down at her knowing that you'd already made a vow to yourself to avoid him all summer. You refused to let Rafe ruin what you and Evan had and the only way you could guarantee that was making sure you didn't see him at all.

☼☼☼

Sarah bounded in the front door of the Cameron's house. "We're home" she called out, her sing-songy voice echoing through the big house. Ward entered after her, carrying their luggage.

"Welcome home," Rose said, greeting Ward at the door with a kiss.

Sarah rolled her eyes at the exchange. It wasn't that she actively hated her step-mom, she would just have rather her dad not married her. Though he was buying her a house in the Bahamas as an anniversary present so maybe she wasn't all bad.

"Is Rafe upstairs?" Sarah asked.

"I think so," Rose replied.

Sarah ran up the stairs, skipping every other one, the way Ward always told her not to do. She came to a sudden stop in front of Rafe's closed door.

"Rafeeeeee," she yelled, knocking rapidly until his voice bellowed back at her through the wall.

"What do you want Sarah? Go away!" He yelled.

"Fine," Sarah said. "I guess you don't care that y/n is back in town then?"

The door swung open just a few seconds later. “What did you say?” Rafe asked.

“Y/n was at the airport. She’s back in the Outer Banks for the summer.” Sarah turned on her heel and sashayed her way to her own bedroom leaving Rafe in his doorway to process the information.

Maybe this summer will be a whole less boring, Rafe thought.

☼☼☼

The summer was going exactly how you'd expected. It was surprisingly nice to have your younger brother to keep you company and more importantly, keep you busy. You spend your days either on the beach, tanning, watching your brother splash in the waves, and making your way through the reading list of the Honors English class you had opted to take next year or at the Club's pool, eating chicken tenders for lunch and washing them down with the thick chocolate milkshakes.

Rafe's friends frequently made an appearance at the Club. You watched them sneak vodka from flaskes into cups of spirit from being your shaded sunglasses. So far, Rafe had yet to join them.

Currently, Phoebe was flirting hardcore with Sawyer, begging him to put sunscreen on her back so she wouldn't burn. It was all too predictable.

You turned your attention back to Nick Carraway and his descriptions of Gatsby's grand parties momentarily.

You heard Sarah's voice before she appeared next to you and plopped down on the chair your brother had been occupying before he decided he needed more ketchup for his fries and had ran off.

"Y/n," she started with the same youthful energy she always talked with, "has Rafe invited you to our Fourth of July party yet?"

"Umm," you hesitated. "No, he hasn't said anything about it."

"Ugh," Sarah threw her head back in a dramatic motion. "I told him to text you about it. He's useless. Anyway, we throw a huge party for the Fourth every year and you have to come. There are fireworks and everything..."

Sarah's monologue faded to the background as you looked up and noticed Rafe standing at the top of the steps that lead down the pool. Your stomach flopped in the same way it always did when you saw him.

Rafe started walking down the steps and a small panic set in. His own eyes wandered across the pool deck and it was only time before he recognized you. You shifted your body slightly, trying to use Sarah to block yourself from his view.

You turned your attention back to his younger sister, afraid that you'd accidentally make eye contact with Rafe.

Crap, crap crap, you repeated in your head. Rafe was for sure heading in your direction. Even as you forced yourself to focus on Sarah, you couldn't stop yourself from watching Rafe out of the corner of your eye and he was walking straight toward you. Your 'avoid-Rafe-all-summer' plan was going to be impossible now. With every step he took, you could feel your heart beating faster. It felt just like last summer.

Rafe stopped in front of the chair Sarah was sitting in and you couldn't stop yourself from looking up at him, a smile threaten to slide onto your face. The same warm but dangerous feeling you only got when Rafe was around took ahold of you.

"Sarah," he said, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Ward's looking for you."

She jumped up with a sudden spurt of energy, "Okay, I'll go find him!" She leaned down engulfing you in another hug. "See you around y/n." She said before running off.

"Bye Sarah." You replied.

"You know, you're like my sister's favorite person," Rafe said, still standing above you. "She mentioned you were in-town for the summer..." He let his sentence trail off.

But I hadn't seen you around. You finished for him in your head.

"Yeah, we got in about a week ago." You said. The tension that hung in the air between the two of you was exactly the reason you were trying to avoid him. The last time you had seen him he'd kissed you in a way you hadn't been able to get out your head for months afterward. It was a dangerous game. Nonetheless, here he was standing in front of you and you were barely holding it together.

Your phone began to ring and the photo of Evan kissing your check from homecoming popped up with the caller id. Rafe's eyes glanced over it and an unreadable expression crossed his face.

Right, it was 4 o'clock on Wednesday. The time and day you and Evan had decided you would call each other every week.

"Uhh, I gotta get this." You said to Rafe, reaching over and picking up the phone.

"Yeah, okay. See you later y/n." He replied before walking away from you and to his friends.

Your eyes followed him all the way even as you clicked answered and Evan's voice filled your ear.

☼☼☼

A feeling of nervousness set in as you approached the Cameron's, the absurd number of cars parked outside confirming you were at the right place. You glanced over each of your shoulders worried that your mom would pull up any second to drag you back home after you lied about where you were spending your evening. You felt decently bad about saying you were going to the Club to watch fireworks and coming to the Cameron's instead but you knew your family's stance on Rafe and his dad.

It seemed like the entire population of the Outer Banks was spread across the Cameron's backyard. Adults sipped festive cocktails as little kids, hyped-up onto much sugar, weaved in between their legs, chasing one another around. You looked around hesitantly, thankful when Sarah emerged from the crowd, frosting smeared across her face.

"You made it! I'm so happy you're here!" She screamed.

"Sarah," you laughed. "You have blue frosting all over you." You used your finger to wipe it from her cheek.

"Rose ordered the most delicious cake you've ever had. You have to try it. I can get you some. Do you want some?" She asked eagerly.

"I'm okay right now. Thank you though. Have you seen Rafe?" You asked. You were at his party, after all, it wasn't like there was any point in avoiding him now.

Sarah turned and pointed to the dock where Rafe and his group of friends were standing. "He's over there."

"Great. Okay! I'm going to go say hi."

"Have fun!" Sarah replied with a smile before running off in the same direction she's appeared in.

You made your way through the crowd to the dock, the groups' attention turning to you as you approached.

"Hey," you said, shyly.

Cleo and Riley jumped up from where they had been sitting with their legs dangling in the water.

"Y/n, right?" Cleo asked before leaning in for a hug.

"Yeah. Hi! It's good to see you guys again." You replied.

"You too! Rafe said you were back in town and I was wondering when you'd finally make an appearance." Cleo said.

You look over at Rafe to find him already watching you. He pushed through Cole and Milo and was suddenly in front of you

"Um, y/n and I need to get the fireworks." He said to the group. You watched Riley shoot Cleo a confused look but Cleo just shrugged it off.

Rafe grabbed your hand and pulled you along, leaving you no choice but to follow him. You walked in silence, other than the sound of your heart beating rapidly.

Rafe stopped at a small brick shed on the side of the house. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, pulling you in after. There were kayaks and paddleboards hanging on the walls and some old lifejackets littered the floor.

"Rafe-" you tried to start but he cut you off.

"Y/n, I seriously can't go one more minute without kissing you again."

Rafe looped his arm around your waist, cupped the back of your neck with his hand, and landed his lips on yours.

For a moment, you tilted your face upwards and leaned your body into his before your senses came rushing back to you and you shoved him backwards off of you. Surprise registered on his face.

"Rafe. No. I can't do this." Your voice broke, panic coursed through your whole body. "God, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come here today or followed you here."

"Y/n." Rafe said but held your hand up warning him to say quiet.

"I have to go. I have to go," you repeated. "Tell Sarah I'm sorry I missed the fireworks. I know she'll be disappointed. I have to go."

You turned to leave but Rafe grabbed your wrist and his eyes locked with yours, his expression begging you to stay.

"I have a boyfriend." You blurted out. The weight of those four words settled on Rafe's face and you jerked your arm out of his grasp. You spun on your heel and walked out the shed and putting distance between you and the boy making your life so complicated.

You crossed the Cameron's yard, trying to gather yourself and slow your chaotic, unsteady breathing. You hurried down the long driveway, making it to the road without any tears slipping out of your eyes.

Rafe had tried to kiss you. He hadn't tried, he had kissed you. And you sorta kissed him back. No, not sorta. You kissed him back. But then you stopped. You pushed him away. You realized it was wrong. You didn't want to hurt Evan. You weren't gonna hurt Evan.

The fireworks began to explode behind you, large booms thundered across the sky, their big colors illuminating the night. You didn't dare turn around watch them. They reminded you too much of Rafe: the boy pulling your head and your heart in two different directions.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13 [drop a ☀️ in my inbox or messages if you want to be added]

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #outer banks fanfiction #where it leads series #where it leads #obx fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron!high school #outer banks netflix

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ginemrys · 3 years

Text

a change of heart

This is something very different to what we usually write, a bold departure from Jily! But we were inspired by a tiktok that showed Peter knocking on Marlene's door to Meant To Be Yours from the show Heathers and knew we had to write it!!!

Marly,

Lily and I are going a little stir crazy now. I try not to let her see how fed up with being stuck inside I am, but as you know well enough, she’s an expert at reading people.

I wish you could know where we are, that you could come and visit. We keep showing Harry photos of all of you, making sure he knows you all once this damned war is over. I think you’re going to be Marly for the rest of your life now, he’s quite taken with babbling some form of it over and over whenever you’re mentioned.

It’s unreal to think that he’s going to be a year old soon, where did that time go? Sometimes I feel like we are all still at school, taking our exams and getting up to mischief. I miss mischief almost as much as I miss the boys. We see Sirius of course, but no one has heard from Remus in a while, not since he went on his last mission for Dumbledore. I’m worried about Peter, he seems to be struggling worst of all, he barely replies to my letters now. I want him to be alright, he’s one of my closest friends and I hate the idea that he’s pulling away from us when we need him the most.

We miss you lots, miss you all. Please pass our love onto Dorcas and the others, you understand that we can’t write to everyone, just in case.

Stay safe, stay brilliant.

James.

Marlene stood in her childhood bedroom holding the letter in her hands. She smiled down at it, imagining baby Harry saying her name. She put the letter down on her bedside table before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Marlene, dinner is ready!” Her mother called from downstairs.

“I’ll be down in a minute.” She called back, her head in her hands.

“Marly?” A quiet voice spoke from her doorway. Marlene’s younger brother, Marcus, stood there. He was home for the summer, having just finished his sixth year at Hogwarts. He was the only person who could ever comfort Marlene when she cried, knowing just what to do. So he stepped into her bedroom uninvited, and sat down beside her, one arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, you.” She said, with a small sigh. “Sorry… It’s been a tough few weeks.” She said, resting her head against his as they sat together.

“I know.” Marcus replied, his hold on her tightening slightly. “And I’m not going to ask, because I know you can’t, unlike Mum and Dad. Sorry they keep pushing you to tell us what you’ve been doing.”

“It’s fine, it was all just better when I saw more of my friends… I miss them. Lily and James I barely get to hear from, even Dore is too busy for me…” She sighed. “Right, can’t let our food get cold. Race you?” She said with a small smirk, moving back from him.

“It’ll get better, I’m sure.” Marcus said softly as she moved away, getting to his feet. A grin spread across his face as she spoke, his eyebrow raising. “You know I’ll win!” He took off running, making sure to shut her door behind him to slow her down.

But then a bang sounded from downstairs, Marlene’s mother screamed.

“Arsehole!” Marlene shouted after him, throwing the door open. She froze hearing her mother’s shout, but she joined her brother by stumbling into the kitchen. Marlene’s mother lay on the ground, her face pressed against the cracked tile.

“Mum!” Marcus called out, rushing towards his mother, falling to his knees to grab her. A cold laugh sounded and another green light filled the room. Marlene stood with wide eyes as she stared at the scene before her as Marcus fell limply on the tile next to her.

“Marlene, run! Go!” Her father shouted, his face wet with tears as he burst into the kitchen from his study, brandishing his wand. “You’re important in this war, go now!”

Marlene looked at her father for a moment before running towards the door, more figures moved into the kitchen and she could hear her father grunting as he shot spells that burnt hot behind her. She pulled the door open, but was stopped by a figure standing on the path. “P-Pete?”

“Stay there!” Peter said, his voice surprisingly firm. But his wand betrayed him, his hand shaking as he pointed it at her chest. “Don’t try to run, Marlene!”

Marlene felt sick, the shaking wand arm showed the dark mark embedded into his skin. She stared at him before turning on her heel and sprinting up the stairs. She ran at full pelt into her room, slamming the door closed and locking it behind her before resting back against it. She looked around even though she knew she was trapped. “Fuck.” She muttered, looking around for her wand. She could almost hear Alastor condemning her for putting it down.

Peter sighed as Marlene ran. He felt sick, unable to stop shaking. But this was a test, he had to do this. His mark was fresh, still itchy and green. He needed to kill, to kill by order of his new master in order to turn it black. And he was tasked with the murder of Marlene McKinnon. So he pulled the door open, hearing the thud of Mr McKinnon as his body hit the floor beside his wife and son. The stairs creaked as Peter climbed them, he could hear the chuckles of his fellow Death Eaters, none of them who knew that he was the spy believed that he could do it.

Marlene saw her wand had rolled onto the floor so scrambled forward on her hands and knees to grab it. “Come on.” She said to herself, trying to conjure a patronus to send for help. She had placed anti-apparition wards over her house a few weeks prior, to protect them. She’d thought people couldn’t get in, but she clearly had been wrong. A few wisps appeared out of her wand but she couldn't possibly think of a strong enough memory to conjure a corporal form. Not while her heart ached and her head spun.

He knew where he was going, he’d been here before. He’d lingered in the background as everyone had fun, drinking and partying after sixth year when Marlene’s parents had been out for the night. He’d sat alone, curled up on an armchair watching Lily begin to fall in love with James as they spoke quietly with their backs against the sofa. He knew where Marlene’s room was.

He knocked gently on the closed door. “Marly? It’s going to be alright, Marly. Just open the door, please.” He called through it, his voice soft. He could hear her ragged, panicked breathing behind the wood.

“It was you.” Marlene called back, her back hard against the door. “You’re the traitor. You… You joined their side. Pete, why?”

“Just open the door.” Peter replied, his voice a little harsher now. “I don’t owe you an explanation, I don’t owe any of you anything. Now open the door, Marly.”

“You could have come to us, any of us. We could have helped if you were struggling. Pete, Pete please.” She said, angrily brushing the tears from her face.

“No, I couldn’t!” He spat. He could have killed her by now, could have unlocked the door with a simple alohomora and he’d be done with it. But she knew now, she knew. Finally he could tell someone about how he felt, about how they all had made him feel over the years. “I couldn’t talk to any of you. None of you care, none of you remember I’m even there half the time. Remus used to give a slight shit, but then Dumbledore sent him away. And James only cares about his precious Lily, he doesn’t have the time for any of us anymore.” The words spilled out of him, his voice rough as he shouted through the door. “You’re on the losing side, Marly, you can’t win! So why bother trying?”

“That’s not true!” She exclaimed. “It’s not! We all care about each other so much, but it’s so hard, this war is so hard and it is worth trying, we want a future, a future with all of us.” She sobbed, her hand covering her mouth. “We all care about you. Please, Peter, we can fix this together. Me and you. I can save you, this isn’t the end. It can’t be the end.” She whimpered.

“It's too late. People didn’t care about me before the war, they won’t now. There’s no way.” He knew the door was locked, but still he reached down to turn the doorknob, knowing it would scare her. Some sick part of him was taking pleasure from hearing her sobbing. “Let me in.”

“We’ve always cared about you. What about Sirius and James? Remus? You’re one of the marauders. I’ve never seen a friendship as close as yours…” She said, standing up from the door and stepping back towards the bed, her wand raised.

“I’ve never been one of them, not really. I was just a means to an end.” Peter said as he pointed his wand at the lock, watching it glow slightly as he unlocked it. “It’s always been them, then me. An afterthought.”

“That’s not true, they love you. Let me help you, I can protect you.” She said, pointing her wand at the door. Her legs hit the edge of the bed, knocking the bedside table and the letter she had been reading landed on the ground.

“Not anymore.” Peter whispered. He cast a shield charm as he opened the door, knowing that she would try to attack him the second he appeared in her view. And of course he was right, because there she was, her wand pointed right at him. “See, you lied.”

“You’re trying to kill me, Peter. What do you expect?” She said, sending a stunning spell even though it bounced off his shield charm.

“I have to.” Peter said. “Expelliarmus!” Her wand soared out of her hand. Peter was never very good at catching, so he let it clatter to the floor in front of him. “I have to, Marly. You know that.” But still his hand shook.

Marlene winced as she watched the wand fall to the ground. “You don’t. You don’t have to do this, Pete. Please,” she looked him in the face, “let me help you, please don’t do this. Don’t kill me. I’m begging you.”

“You can’t help me. No one can help me. Not until the war is over.” Peter said, his voice sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the fact, to make himself believe that what he was doing was right. “It’ll be fine, Marly. It won’t hurt.”

“They’ll know it was you. They’ll find out. They won't forgive you if you do this.” As Marlene looked at him she could hear the voices of her friends in her head. We can’t be together, not anymore. I’m sorry. We’re going into hiding. I’m scared. You know I’ll win. I love you.

“No one will know.” Peter shook his head, his hand growing steadier by the second. “They think it’s Remus.” He drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to mean it, to want it. “Bye, Marly.” He whispered the words and saw the flash of light.

Marlene’s body hit the ground with a soft thud, her head falling next to the letter. Her eyes lay open, glazed and forever staring.

Peter had to press his hand to his mouth to not be sick, his fingers tingling at the feeling of casting an Unforgivable curse. His eyes travelled from Marlene’s dead, blank expression to the parchment beside her head. He recognised that handwriting. He walked over to her, taking care not to look at her anymore and picked it up. James . He was worried about him… He knew it was all for show, James hadn’t cared about Peter for years, if at all. But maybe he suspected. Peter knew he had to work harder with his so-called friends, if he wanted to prove himself to the Dark Lord. A sharp pain sliced his arm, a small cry escaping him. He looked, his mark was no longer green, but jet black. He’d done it.

“The other side are on their way. Let's go.” A gruff voice called from downstairs before steps moved through the house and disappeared.

The parchment slipped from Peter’s fingers, drifting down to land on Marlene’s outstretched palm. He kicked her wand behind him as he turned to leave the room, now it looked as though she had been killed without knowing who it was, in the middle of reading the letter. It probably didn’t matter much, but it gave Peter more of a sense of ease. He followed the sound of the voice, joining the other members of Voldemort’s inner circle, minus Snape of course. He did not know of Peter’s change of heart, and was not going to learn of it. Not until it was all over.

A quiet ache ran through the house as it was left alone, the bodies of the fallen left to run cold on the floor.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Sirius growled at Alastor, pushing past him as he slammed the door open. “Marlene! Marlene!” He shouted into the house, walking forward towards the kitchen. He gagged when he saw Marcus’ body lying there next to his mother and father. He stumbled back against the doorway, looking around.

“Marlene!” He screamed out, pushing past the other members of the Order who were walking into the scene. He checked the living room before forcing his way upstairs and slowly pushing open the door into Marlene’s room. He slumped down onto his knees seeing her body. “No…” He crawled forward to pull her into his arms, wrapping his arms around her. “No.”

“Sirius…” Remus whispered. He’d only just gotten back from his last mission, the exhaustion obvious on his face. He and Albus had been halfway through their usual debrief when the message had come in, the message that the McKinnons' house had the Dark Mark emblazoned in the sky above it. Naturally Remus had come and had known Sirius would be there. “Oh Merlin, Sirius, I’m…” He took another step into the bedroom, unable to tear his eyes from Marlene’s.

“Get out. Get the fuck out of here.” Sirius snapped, holding Marlene close to his chest, stroking her hair. He looked down at her before he screamed out in agony, holding her tightly; unable to comprehend that she was dead.

“You don’t mean that. You’re upset.” Remus whispered, though a tear had fought its way down his cheek. Sirius had never spoken to him in that way before, not even when Remus had screamed at him for telling Snape about the passageway to the Shack. It stung, it hurt worse than any full moon. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Sirius.”

Sirius could barely hear anything, he lifted Marlene into his arms, lifting her up onto the bed and settling her onto the blankets. He stood up, leaving her there. “Get the fuck out.” Sirius snapped, moving forward to push Remus out of the room.

“Why are you being like this?” Remus asked him, his eyes wide. “This wasn’t me, Sirius. I didn’t- You know I would never hurt any of you!”

“You weren’t here! Where were you? If there were more of us we could have helped.” He growled, his thoughts were jumbled and he just needed someone to blame.

“You know I can’t tell you that! I was away on Dumbledore’s orders, Sirius!” Remus’ hand gripped the banister, his back pressed against it as Sirius backed him out of Marlene’s room. He could still see her long blonde hair on the bed, his stomach turning. “I’m sorry she’s gone, I really fucking am. But I promise you, I was with Dumbledore.”

“How do I know you’ve not been off with the enemy?” Sirius said, closing the door behind him, protecting Marlene in the only way he could. “How do I know you aren’t lying? You got here so quickly…”

“You really think I would betray you?” Remus snapped, the mere implication that Sirius thought he was the spy shattering him. “You think I’d work with him , betray James and Lily, put Harry at risk? Get Marlene killed? Fuck you, Sirius. You dare? You dare think that the things I’ve been doing haven’t been for the Order, for Dumbledore? You think so fucking little of me to consider I’d ever buy in to his blood purity bullshit? Me ? Clearly you don’t know me at all.”

“Marlene’s dead, people didn’t know where she was, where her family was. Marcus.” Sirius wretched, doubling over but trying not to throw up. “How else would they know?” He groaned.

“I don’t fucking know how they found her!” Remus was shouting now, furious at his supposed friend. “But I didn’t sell her out, I didn’t sell any of you out! Because I believe in my friends, Sirius, I would never think you or Peter would have betrayed James. But no, I do work for the Order alone and suddenly I’m a spy. I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re grieving. But I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me for months, and I’m sick of it! So go fuck yourself, I’m done.” He stormed down the stairs, the front door slamming behind him.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, you traitor!” Sirius screamed down the stairs, his knees giving way as he slumped down.

“Get him out of here.” Alastor said to a couple of Order members, who grabbed Sirius and dragged him out of the house.

The front door shut, the green glow of the Dark Mark still lingering in the air. But the house was silent once more.

#a very angst filled oneshot about peter pettigrew killing marlene mckinnon #its dark friends its very dark #inspired by heathers #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #first wizarding war

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daadddysprincessss · 3 years

Text

(REPOST FROM MY OLD ACCOUNT)

We aren’t even related

paring: Jim Mason x reader

Summary: step siblings are not blood related - Your dad had been dating Sandy Mason for over a year now, and they had both agreed to move in together(unfortunately they chose your dad’s house), Sandy had 2 kids of her own, Medina and Jim - they were twins, but 2 very different people. You could admit you did have a small crush on Jim when you saw him at school, but so did every other girl, and now that the both of you would basically be step siblings you would never have a chance now. // 3.7k words, part one

Warnings: step siblings are not blood related, harmless flirting

tagging: taglist: @ghostiesbedroom @lovelylangdonx @queencocoakimmie@langdonsinferno @peachesandfern @gold-dragon-slayer @charlottelouise135 @hplotrfan @rosegoldrichie @taryn-just-happened@little-grunge-flowerz @ccodyfern @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonsoceaneyes @sojourne @starwlkers @bellejeunefillesansmerci @chicaluna2410 @crazycatchloe (hope its okay if i tagged you)

Today was one of the worst days of your life, your dad’s girlfriend was moving in with her 2 kids - you either had to move your room to the basement of share with her daughter, you quickly opted out of sharing with a complete stranger. After you settled into the basement room you came upstairs and awaited the Masons arrival with your dad - he looked so happy, you couldn’t remember the last time you had seen him happy -

“Nervous?” you tilted your head and looked up at your dad

He continued to bounce his leg up and down - “a little” he smiled at you

“Don’t be, it’s gonna be amazing” you gave him a weak smile, trying to hide the annoyance in your voice - the only highlight of the day was staying home from classes, it seemed odd for someone to move in on a thursday but whatever - it kept you out of class.

The both of you had waited till 10:30 when your dad quickly jumped up when he heard the soft knock on the door - “hi Sandy” he smiled as he opened the door for her

You stood back as Sandy walked into your home - she gave you a weak smile - “Kids, come on in” she yelled

You placed your hands behind your back and fiddled with your fingers as you waited for them to walk in - you’ve seen them around the school before and never really talked to them so this was definitely going to be a big change - both Medina and Jim walked in, Medina smiled at you, and Jim didn’t even look up from his phone.

“Hey y/n” Medina smiled

“Hi Medina, Hi Jim” you said as politely as possible

“Hi” Jim’s voice was deep - he didn’t even look up from his phone

You rolled your eyes at him - Medina let out a little laugh, she noticed you roll your eyes -

Your dad walked in holding a few boxes labelled with JIMS ROOM “where should I put these”

“Whatever room I get I guess” his tone was rude

Your dad walked towards your old room placing them down

“If you want to follow me, I can show you guys your rooms” you walked towards Jim and Medina

“Yeah that would be cool” Medina smiled - she nudge Jim’s shoulder in hopes he wouldn’t be so rude but it clearly didn’t work

“Medina this is your room, im sorry its kinda small - it used to be my dads office” you turned to Medina

“It’s alright, there’s room for my bed, desk, and surfboard” Medina said with a shrug, she stepped into the room and walked towards the window. “it has a killer view - wow” she turned to look at you

“My dad said you love the ocean, so I made sure you’d get this room” you smiled at Medina - “Jim, your room is right over here” you turned to look at him

You walked towards your old room - “Jim this is you room, it uh used to be mine” your voice was monotoned

“Cool, so ill be sharing a room with you I take it” Jim raised his brow

Jim is one of the cutest guys at school, you knew you never had a chance with before - but now you really didn’t have a chance - “Uh no, my room has been moved to the basement” you said nervously

“Damn it would’ve been nice to share my room with a hottie like you” Jim smiled and walked into the room

You were a bit taken back by his confidence - a little bit of blush swept across your face from his weirdish compliment - you turned on your heels and walked back towards your dad and Sandy

“Thank you so much y/d/n” Sandy said as your dad carried in the last of the boxes - “JIM, MEDINA! Coming grab your boxes” Sandy yelled

The first thought that ran through your mind was ‘does she ever shut up’ like who yells that much for their kids

Medina was the first to come and grab her boxes, and than her surfboard. Jim came much later - as if he was preoccupied in his room - the first thing he grabbed was his surfboard(probably checking to make sure it wasn’t damaged) and than his boxes -

“The beds will be here later today - if that’s okay” your dad said nervously to Sandy

“I’m sure Jim and Medina won’t mind” she smiled

You went downstairs to your room, and flopped down onto your bed - you pulled out your phone and clicked the group chat labels ‘baddies’ - ‘well they are moved in now :/‘ you sent to the chat

‘Ooo at least you have that hottie to stare at!! ;)’ Heather texted

Heather wasn’t wrong Jim was the schools biggest eye candy, to us girls he was like a shiny new toy - of course you wanted to play with him but now that he’s technically your step-brother you can’t even touch him -

you tossed your phone aside to try and clear your mind “I can’t think of him like that anymore” you whispered to yourself - you looked up at the ceiling above you, you were directly under Jim’s room, you could hear him walking around above you - you even heard your window slide open a few times, probably testing if it will be quiet enough to sneak out (which it was). You turned your head to the side and looked at your new windows, they were big enough to get out of but a little high to reach, you quickly got out of bed and moved your nightstand under your window so you could still sneak out whenever - or so your friends/boys could sneak in without making a sound.

You laid back onto you bed - *ding* your phone buzzed on the other side of your bed *ding*

“Fuck who is it” you sat up reaching for your phone -

‘Bay party tmrw nite - u in?’ Heather texted

‘If ur cuming to the party wear something sexy - gotta impress the boys’ Amber texted

You rolled your eyes and laughed - ‘only if you were something cute with me;)’ you replied to Amber

‘Yeah i'll pick up Ambs and Vana’ you texted back to Heather - “fuck shes so annoying” you tossed your phone aside again - you turned to your side and started to doze off slightly until you heard a light knock at your door - “come in” your voice was soft

The door slowly opened “I was wondering if you wanted these back” Jim’s voice appeared from the doorway - he was holding up a lighter and incense

“Uh yeah! Thanks” you quickly walked towards him grabbing the items

“The best way to cover up the scent of pot is the smell of glass cleaner” Jim laughed - he knew exactly why you had incense

You smiled awkwardly “thanks” -

Jim pulled out a joint from his pocket - “wanna smoke up before dinner?” He smiled

Jim never talked to you - he actually labelled you a ‘snob’ for not showing up at bay boy parties often, so what was the change of heart here - “uh sure, why not?” You said softly - you flicked the lighter on and lit the incense -

The soft smell of lavender filled your room as Jim lit the joint - he inhales deeply, holding it for a moment - the smoke ghosted form his lips, he held the joint up for you. You took the joint and inhaled deeper than Jim(trying to show off) you held it in - when you parted your mouth to blow out the smallest bit of smoke came out - which made you smile.

“Wanna sit?” You tilted your head as you inhaled again

Jim nodded and took a seat on the end of your bed, you joined him on your bed, sitting with your back to your pillows - you leaned over(practically on your knees) to hand him the joint - Jim took the joint and smoked it

“I never would’ve thought a girl like you was into this sort of stuff” Jim laughed

“Into what? Smoking? Pv can be boring when there’s no parties, you have to find your own fun, you’ll quickly learn about me Jim” you smiled at him - you both were getting along, it felt slightly weird

“And what other things do you like to do for fun y/n” Jim’s voice was a bit higher as he held the smoke in

“Sometimes you can go whale watching, party at the bay, sometimes my friends and I go down to the train tracks and drink mindlessly - sometimes I go down there with guys” your eyes went wide realizing you overshared -

“Go on - im interested in what else you do at the tracks” Jim’s voice was low and raspy

You gave a weak smile as you reached over to grab the joint from Jim - you nearly fell face first onto his lap, but you quickly caught yourself before it could happen. Both of you started to laugh hard, “I’m so sorry” you took a deep inhale

“It all good babe” Jim laughed

You were a bit taken back by Jim calling you babe, like sure he probably called every girl babe but you never actually hung out with him - you took another deep inhaled before handing the joint back to Jim - you could feel your high kicking in, making you feel more relaxed. You watched Jim place the joint between his plump lips and inhale - god you wanted to kiss those lips - he parted his lips and exhaled the smoke softly, your eyes flickered up to his face - he was so fucking hot

“Y/N! JIM! Dinner is ready!” Your dad yelled from the top of the stairs - quickly getting you to focus

“Wait what time is it” you said softly as you grabbed your phone, ‘6:45’ was across the top of your screen - “we’ve been down here for almost 3 hours??” You started to laugh

Jim bit his bottom lip and looked at you “it was the best 3 hours I’ve spent here so far” he stared at you for a moment - you could feel the tension building up between you

“JIMMY! Y/N!” Sandy yelled

You both stood up together and walked towards the stairs to go up - Jim let you walk up first. When you came from behind the door the dinner table was set up with a nice dinner, there were 2 open spots next to each other - Jim and you had taken both those seats.

Dinner felt more full than normal, it wasn’t just you and your dad anymore - but it was a good feeling, you saw him laugh and smile a lot more than normal which warms your heart. After dinner you cleaned up the table with Sandy trying to get to know her more - she was a bit odd

“Thank you for dinner Sandy, it was delicious” you smiled as you load the dishwasher

“It was my pleasure - i'm glad you enjoyed it” Sandy smiled

You turned your head slightly and noticed Jim standing in the entrance of the kitchen gawking at you - you gave a playful smile and quickly stood up

“Hi” your voice was sweet

“H-hey” Jim stuttered out

“Do you need anymore help in the kitchen Sandy?” you turned your head to hide the blush sweeping across your face

“No dear, I got it from here” She smiled at you

Jim’s lips were pressed into a thin line - he parted his lips to say something but nothing came out

“Cat got your tongue” you teased - before Jim could say anything you walked towards the basement door, you went down into your room and threw yourself onto your bed - “why did I just do that” you raised your voice as you pushed your face into your pillows. Why were you being so flirty, you knew you couldn’t have him - you could feel your body tensing just thinking about him, your mouth started to water at the thought of kissing Jim’s plump lips, you could even imagine the of his ribs if he lied between my hips - your hand started to trail down your body, getting closer to the band of your leggings - *ding* you quickly removed your hand from almost entering your pants, you quickly sat up to see who messaged you -

‘Hey, I really enjoyed our smoke sesh. Maybe we can have another one soon;)’ Jim texted you

The first thought that ran through you head was ‘how did you get my number?’ -

‘Yeah, maybe tomorrow’ you texted back

‘Before the party ;)’ Jim texted back quickly

How did he know you were going? He never asked you - who told him? ‘Yeah sure, whatever works’ you texted back trying to sound cool

‘Sweet dreams ;)’ Jim texted back

You stared at your phone with a smile plastered across your face - “sweet dreams” you said softly out loud - you never texted him back that night. You laid back in your bed, you felt like you had a little school girl crush on Jim, but there was that little voice in the back of your head screaming at you ‘HE’S BASICALLY YOUR STEP BROTHER YOU CAN’T GO FOR IT’ - you closed your eyes to drown out the screaming in your head - after you closed your eyes you quickly fell asleep.

You woke up Friday morning to the smell of your dad’s world famous pancakes, you quickly jumped out of bed and threw and oversized shirt on, you ran up the stairs to see your dad humming as he was flipping some pancakes

“Good Morning sunshine” his voice was cheerful

“Good morning daddy” you smiled - you had forgotten what he looked like when he was this happy

“I made these ones special for you” your dad smiled and handed you a plate

When you took the plate you looked down to see mickey mouse shaped pancakes - “dad, you really didn’t have to” you smiled so hard your face started to hurt

“Think of it as a thank you” your dad pulled your head to his chest and kissed your forehead

You walked towards the kitchen table with your plate - you smiled at Medina who was eating her breakfast

“Morning” you spoke softly

“Morning y/n” she smiled

You placed your plate down and turned around to grab a drink - “Medina do you want anything to drink?”

“Yeah sure, I wasn’t sure where anything was” she laughed

You grabbed to fruit juices and walked back handing one to Medina, you both sat in silence, eating breakfast till Jim came out of his room - he stomped his way to the kitchen, his hair was a complete mess, dark circles under his eyes - almost like he didn’t sleep. He didn’t say a word to either of you, he grabbed a plate of food and sat next to you - he closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply -

“Morning Jim” your voice was low

He turned to look at you, giving you a weak smile along with a nod - he acted as if you meant nothing to him..

You ate your breakfast in silence, after you were done you brought your plate to the sink. You looked at the clock to see if there was enough take to shower before class - which there was -

You walked towards the bathroom(since the basement bathroom was being worked on) -you grabbed a towel and set the water temperature, you tossed the oversized shirt aside and stepped into the shower, you put a little bit of shampoo in your hand and started to massage it into your scalp -

“Holy fuck” Jim’s voice was muffled

Your eyes widen and you quickly covered your breasts - “Jim what are you doing in here, don’t you knock” your voice was full of embarrassment

“I did” Jim blurted out as his eyes trailed down your body

“Jim get out” you pointed at the door

“Or I could just join you, save water right?” He laughed - Jim walked towards the shower

“Jim no” you turned the shower off - you really did want him to join

“You know you want me to” Jim winked

There was a knock at the door - “Jim? Y/n?” Medina’s voice came from behind the door

“Sorry medina I’m almost done my shower” your voice was shaky

“Oh sorry y/n” Medina’s voice was quiet

“Okay Jim when Medina walks away your out” you covered your breasts again

“Nice ass” he smirked

The corners of your lips started to curve from the compliment(kinda compliment) Jim gave you -

“I worked hard for it” you spoke with confidence

“I bet it would look nicer with a few hand prints” Jim teased

You were a bit taken back by his boldness, you tilted your head and raised a brow - “Yeah I bet it would” you smirked

You could see a bulge build in Jim’s pants - he looked down and back at you, pink blush crept across his face from embarrassment - “Medina’s gone - sorry for the blue balls” you smirked

You could admit telling Jim to go away instead of fucking you senseless hurt a little - you gave yourself blue balls too, you quickly showered and went to your room, you got dressed and brushed your hair out.

When you walked upstairs and headed towards the door you saw Jim and Medina grabbing their bikes to ride to school - “do you guys want a ride?” You asked

“If you don’t mind” Medina squinted her eyes from the sun as she looked at you

“Yeah - please” Jim said as he walked towards your car

You unlocked the doors and Jim got in the passenger seat of y/car, Medina got in the back seat

“Thanks again y/n” she spoke softly

You smiled at her through the rearview mirror - you just wished she wasn’t so shy with you

You plugged your phone in for music and started to drive towards school - you got to school within 15 minutes which was early for you.

“Do you guys want a ride home after class too?” You asked as you parked

“Please” Medina nodded - she quickly got out of the car and walked towards her friends

“Yeah” Jim nodded

You both got out of the car at the same time walk separate ways. Jim didn’t acknowledge you at school for the rest of the day, it annoyed you how different and unflirty he was with you.

After class when the last bell rang you went to your locker as normal, and put your stuff away- you texted Medina and Jim letting them know you’d be a few minutes. When Amber and Vana walked up to their lockers(right beside yours) they wanted to know everything

“So what’s it like living with the Masons?” Vana raised a brow

“It's only been a day” you laughed

“Ugh fuck talking about that - so for tonight what are you wearing?” Amber asked

“Probably shorts and a tank, how about you guys?” You said as you put your backpack on -

“Y/n you gotta show a little - I heard Alex likes you” Vana teased

“Oh yeah right - I have eyes for someone else” you laughed

“No y/n Vana’s right, Heather heard that Alex was gonna invite you over after the party” Amber was trying to be serious

“Don’t pull my leg” you laughed

Both girls looked at you with a straight face

“I’ll see you guys tonight, you'll both be at Ambs?” You said as you turned to walk away

“Yeah - see you later!” They both said in sync

You walked quickly down the hall in hopes not to see Heather or Alex - they really annoyed you.

When you got to your car Jim and Medina we’re both patiently waiting for you - “sorry guys, my friends just wanted to talk” you quickly unlocked the doors.

The car ride home was silent again, you were thankful you had music to play though - when you got home, your dads car wasn’t in the drive away and no sign of Sandy anywhere - you went down to your room and picked out your clothes for tonight - placing them on your bed neatly.

Jim came down and knocked on your open door “you told me to knock right” he smiled

“Hi” you said coldly not caring

“Smoke?” Jim questioned as he held up a joint

“Why not” you stood up from your vanity

Jim lit the joint and inhaled, he nodded his head as he exhaled “its good” he handed you the joint

You walked towards Jim, taking the joint - your fingers brushed against his - you inhaled deeply and tilted your head back as you blew out the smoke. Jim and you sat in your room smoking - something about being with him comforted you, this joint hit you harder and faster than last time, your head went fuzzy, and your palms went calmly-

“I don’t know if I ever told you, but your so fucking hot” Jim’s voice was low - his eyes were glossy

“Wait what?” You were caught off guard-

Jim leaned towards you - his lips ghosting over yours - he placed his forehead against yours. You tilted your head up slightly - your lips meeting his - kissing gently, Jim’s lips parted slightly biting at your bottom lip. Jim’s tongue swiped against your bottom lip begging for entrance - you parted your lips, kissing Jim with an open mouth, his tongue massages against your tongue, you let out small moan into Jim’s mouth -

Jim pulled back from the kiss, a small trail of saliva trailed from your lips, his eyes were hazy as he started back at you -

#jim mason #stepbro jim #jim mason x y/n #the tribes of palos verdes #cody fern #michael langdon x reader

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years

Text

jdronica+I kissed you in front of my ex (also on ao3)

The 7-Eleven is hardly much warmer than it is outside, but at least it’s drier. Veronica shakes the rain out of her hair as she steps in, shaking her head like a dog and sprinkling tiny droplets over the tiles. September announced its arrival in Sherwood with grey skies and bucket loads of rain, and three days in, the downpour shows no sign of stopping. It put a little bit of a damper to show up on the first day of her senior year soaking wet (pun intended because puns should always be intended), and there’s a growing sense of anxiety among students about whether or not the rain will let up in time for football practice to start.

But, where the rain might mess with first-day plans and be a pain for football fanatics, it’s the ideal weather for movie nights. The kind that involves piles of blankets, hot cocoa, and a combination of new releases and old favourites. The kind that, funnily enough, Veronica and Martha had planned for the weekend and scheduled when the sun was still out.

Maybe the weather was on their side.

“Okay, you grab the JiffyPop and drinks; I’ll raid the candy aisle,” Veronica instructs. “I’ll meet you at the counter.”

“Don’t go crazy on the candy,” Martha warns her. “Orange soda or blue?”

“Orange, and I will go completely crazy on the candy.” Martha raises her eyebrow, a fond shake of her head, but there’s little she can do when there’s a five-dollar bill burning in Veronica’s pocket. Veronica shoots little finger guns at Martha before bouncing down the candy aisle, taking stock of all the treats on offer.

She grabs a packet of Milk Duds because they go great with popcorn and a sharing bag of red vines too. She grabs a packet of the little watermelons (Martha’s personal favourite) and chuckles as she picks up a sharing bar of Hershey’s (private joke). She drops her candy stash into her basket and is in the middle of a debate between the packets of Sour Patch Kids and the packets of chips on sale when something, or rather someone, appears behind her.

“Want a Slurpee with that?”

She only jumps a tiny bit, and she’s glad because it doesn’t show how the stranger scared the pants off her. Mostly because she was lost in her head, but still, what was the asshole expecting, coming behind her like that? She turns around, her basket still on her arm, and she has an entire rant about convenience store etiquette ready, but it dies when she sees who it is.

Jason Dean, or as he prefers to be known, JD. New kids are something of a rarity in Sherwood, Ohio, which means he’s front-page news at school. Branded The New Kid, and he’ll probably still be that at graduation. People have done their best to Make Him Feel Welcome, as Ms. Fleming brightly suggested (demanded) they do, and despite some pleasantries, no one’s quite managed to get him to their lunch table. Most of the time, he’s alone, always with a different book. He’s gone from Baudelaire to Dickens to Orwell.

Not that she’s paying attention.

“Well, hello, Jason Dean.” She leans up against the counter and gestures to the cup in his hand. “Not my thing, but if you play your cards right, you can buy me a Big Gulp.”

“Blasphemy, little miss. Slurpee is the signature dish of the house. Did you say cherry or lime?”

“I said Big Gulp.” She lets the smile linger on her lips, feels it grow wider as he turns around. He laughs it off, and she takes note of the dimples in his cheeks, the way his hair falls forward into his eyes in a way that may or may not make her heart pick up.

“You’re Veronica, right?” he asks. “Veronica Sawyer.” He holds his free hand up. “Not stalking. I just sit two rows behind you in English.”

“I remember,” she replies. “Yes, it’s Veronica Sawyer.” She crosses her arms over her chest and chews thoughtfully on her lower lip. “So… may I ask what brings you to Sherwood, Ohio?”

His smile falters then, the spark dimming in his eyes, and his free hand slides into his pocket. She kicks herself immediately, her with her stupid attempts at flirting and her stupid nose poking into other people’s business. This is why she only sticks to Martha and occasionally Heather Mac, and if the universe wanted to remind her, it could have done it less painfully.

“Uh, new foster placement,” he tells her after a minute. “My old group home got too crowded, and it turns out the only other place that would take a teenager with insane daddy issues was all the way across the state.”

“Oh,” is all she can find to say, for all her teachers praising her for her brains. One word, one syllable. “Well, that’s….” Cool? Nice? Fun? Interesting? Nothing is appropriate here, no matter what direction she turns in.

But then Jason Dean taps her arm, wearing a smile that’s equal parts charming and apologetic, and the smoke in her brain begins to clear.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve been a bit more tactful there,” he says. “I know it’s a bit of a wild thing to drop on someone. My tragic hero backstory and all that.”

“Well, if it means you end up leading a life of crime-fighting and protecting our town, it all works out.”

“Maybe. Not sure if I can pull off the tights and leotard.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got the legs for it,” she replies, and when he bursts out laughing, so does she. It feels weird, almost familiar. Like she’s known him for far longer than three days. She shuffles closer to him, pulled forward by her curiosity.

He eyes her basket and opens his mouth to say something else, but then the little bell rings at the shop door, and Veronica lets out a soft curse when she sees who it is.

What exactly her ex-girlfriend is doing at the 7-Eleven, she can’t fathom. This was on her list of places she could most definitely keep going to regularly after they broke up, and that list is depressingly small. This is meant to be the part of town Heather Duke, or any of the Heathers don’t grace with their presence, not even Macnamara. If they divided up the assets after breaking up last month, the 7-Eleven was definitely in her pile.

Or maybe not, she thinks as she watches Heather cross the floor in her heels, loose change in her hand.

The universe just will not let her be.

Duke notices her after she does, dark eyes widening at the sight of her. Veronica’s at a loss for what to do, whether to wave at her, flip her off, or just ignore her completely. She needs to think of something soon because Heather is moving closer towards her, and the last thing she needs is a not-so-subtle reminder of how she’s doing so much better than she is.

Her brain turns off, her body going into autopilot.

Instinct says to grab the closest thing to her, and the closest thing happens to be JD.

She whispers, “I’m sorry,” just loud enough so he can hear a second before her lips touch his, and by that point, she can’t exactly back out.

She doesn’t know what’s crazier; her kissing JD or the fact he kisses her back.

His hand is flat against her back, his other one cupping her cheek. She doesn’t know how experienced he is in these matters, but damn, he’s not bad. She’d even call him good. Maybe great. He tilts his head slightly but still lets her keep control, and his lips are soft and slightly cold from the Slurpee. It’s just slow enough to make it interesting, and he doesn’t pull away when she kisses him again.

When she does pull away, Heather is far past them, her pace too quick to be calm, and Veronica smugly counts it as a victory.

That is until she realises her hands are still balled up in JD’s shirt.

“I am… so sorry,” she begins. “I just… I know I shouldn’t have, but I just needed to do something to-”

“Woah, woah, woah, Ronnie,” he says. She only blushes slightly at the nickname. “Just answer me one question.” She nods, words catching in her throat, and he points up to where Heather is. “Ex?”

“Yup,” is her meek response, and to her shock, he laughs.

“Okay, Veronica Sawyer,” he tells her. “No hard feelings.” She untangles herself from him and retrieves her basket from where she dropped it on the floor. She looks behind and finds his Slurpee sitting on the shelf, standing out amongst the candies.

She’s tempted by the Slurpee offer, after all. She needs something to stop her cheeks from burning.

“I should go,” she says. “My friend, she’ll be wondering where I am.” She backs up, her eyes unable to leave his grinning face. “Um, thank you very much. For being so understanding about… that. All of that. Uh, see you around maybe. Yeah.”

She manages to turn herself around and takes the opportunity to stop hiding and let out a silent scream. She moves to go, to run and pay for her candy, and start plan to avoid him as much as humanly possible-or change her name and flee the state, that could work-but then he calls after her, and she stops in her tracks,

“Hey!” he says. She turns to face him again, and while he keeps a respectable distance, she can still see the smile on his face, all soft angles and laugh lines, and the telltale butterflies begin in her stomach.

“You’re busy this weekend,” he says. “What about next?”

That’s the story of Veronica Sawyer and Jason Dean’s first kiss.

For those who want to know, their second involves her pinning up against the wall of a McDonald’s bathroom and him breathlessly whispering her name against her lips.

#heathers the musical #heathers fanfic #jdronica #pure au jdronica #veronica sawyer #jason dean #i wrote this over teh course of an hour and just posted it so yeahhhhhh.....#i miss heathers

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tae-cup · 3 years

Text

Old Money and Brooklyn Babies

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Summary: “Those summer nights seem long ago. And so is the girl you used to call The queen of New York City. But if you send for me, you know I'll come. And if you call for me, you know I'll run” - Lana Del Rey (Old Money)

Genre: Modern/Realistic Au, Angst, like Fluff if you squint, rich people au??

Warnings: Yandere-ish themes, LANGUAGE, drinking, sexual tension (but no smut!), unhealthy relationships, heavy topics, maybe at the end if you think about it maybe depression?, Pathological liar (s?) are involved, your brain has been warned #trust no one.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 7.3k Words

A/N: Ahhh this was such a challenge for me to write but I hope you guys enjoy it! PS I’m sorry. And I’m really nervous to post this because I don’t know how it will turn out askldfhsalkdfh

Other: Masterlist

Loving him was intense, a whirlwind of emotions that could only be compared to a hurricane, a tornado. There was a time when loving him was explosive, a train on its way to be wrecked. The feeling hadn’t disappeared.

You knew it when you saw him standing on the staircase, a new love around his arm. You felt the room buzz when he saw you. Now, standing in this bar of sweat and alcohol where you could barely pay for your next drink, you wondered how things went so wrong.

Just a few weeks ago, you were the queen of New York City, the heiress everyone was talking about, and now you were a nothing, just another nobody in a sea of other nobodies.

Did he see it in your eyes? Did he see the desperation? The same look you had given him a few months ago, the kind of look that he had described as beautiful and exhilarating. Now he turned away in disgust. You tightened your grasp on your glass.

It was your fault.

You had ruined it all. Like you always did.

Six Months Ago

1 A.M. wake up.

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day and plan it meticulously in your mind.

3 A.M.

Get out of bed.

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while.

You stood tall, you knew you were a beautiful woman. After all, everyone had been telling you this since you were little. You could easily pass for royalty, that’s what you always thought and you wore it well.

You jutted your chin out, running a hand along your jawline. Then you made sure to put every hair in place, perfectly positioned. The mirror had a small crack in the corner, you made a mental note to buy a new one.

You put on your dark shades sunglasses so that you could barely even see inside. Nonetheless, you stumbled around your apartment like a model, refusing to look unfashionable even in the cold abyss of your living room. Who knew if someone was peering through the windows? That’s why you kept it as dark as possible.

You tripped over the couch. Since when was that there? You asked yourself angrily, as if you hadn’t been living here for the past year, a pretty bubble world built up carefully over a year of work and dedication.

Reality couldn’t catch you here. You stumbled around blindly for a while and then found the door handle.

5 A.M.

With a decisive click, your day had begun.

Astteria Jewelry, a company your father had invested in dearly when he visited the states. You hadn’t been there, but you’d heard a lot about the visit from the newspapers.

“Hello?” You cleared your throat, tapping on the top of the glass counter until someone came over, looking a bit annoyed. The woman’s face was twisted uncomfortably before she plastered a kind smile on her face.

“How may I help you?”

“Yes, yes, I need to try those on.” You pointed to the chunkiest rings in the case. They were encrusted with large and small diamonds, all glittering beautifully.

The woman shot you a skeptical look. You just peered down at her through your dark shaded glasses. She was really straining for that pleasant smile now.

“Of course.” She said tightly and reached under, unlocking the case, and bringing the rings out.

“Ah, I quite like this one.” You gasped happily. The rock on your finger was hard to even hold up, but you liked it well enough. “I’ll take it, as you probably know, my father will be quite happy with this gift.”

“That will be $247,000.” The woman pursed her lips as she removed the ring and placed it back in a box.

“Perfect.” You declared.

“I need your card.”

“Nonsense! Do you even know who I am?”

The woman shook her head, her irritation visibly growing.

“That’s quite alright. You know, my father is a great friend and investor in this company. He has often bought for my mother from this very fine store. I think he even gave us a discount at some point?” You said casually. “My father is the chairman of Sinopec, I think you know it?”

The woman stilled then she looked suspiciously at the door and back at you. “I’ll give Mr. Betta a call.”

“You better.” You snapped back, your patience wearing thin. You were the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman. Everyone knew you, obviously.

The dial tone was especially loud in the quiet store. A few rings and he picked up.

“Yes?” You heard the muffled voice.

“Sir, there’s someone here claiming you gave her family a discount?”

“Who?”

“From Sinopec.” The woman turned away, whispering furiously. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Okay okay, I will.”

“Well?” You turned to her, looking every part the agitated socialite,

“Mr. Betta seems to be under the impression...that you should be allowed this ring and we’ll charge your father.”

“Of course.” You said quickly, taking the box out of her hands and striding out of the store.

Your heart was racing. You felt a weight on your chest and it wasn’t the ring.

Heather was rich. You knew her to be Old Money, everyone did. You always expertly placed yourself next to her in class. She didn’t seem to mind. She was beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than you, but you would never allow that thought to come to fruition.

Heather held herself like a commoner, to put it lightly. She got her morning starbucks, waited in line, ordered and waited patiently, got on a bus, commuted to school and got to class early. You realized a big part of being a ‘normal’ person was waiting around.

“Heather, I was also at that party the other night.” You said to her as she scrolled through her photo album.

“Oh? Really?” She chewed on gum, the sound smacking across her lips. You felt an itch of irritation, but pushed it away.

“Yeah, really.” You drawled.

You carefully placed your ringed finger close to her line of sight. She glanced down for a second then back at her phone, then back at the ring. She put down her phone.

“Where did you get that ring?” She inquired, suddenly very interested in you. She picked up your hand and surveyed the ring from several angles.

“Astteria.” You said nonchalantly. “My father is a good friend of Simon Betta.”

“Who’s your father?” She glanced upwards with a confused look.

“Zhao Dong.” You said easily.

“The chairman of Sinopec?” Heather looked up, confused. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you! You’ve changed since I last saw you.”

You smiled and nodded at her words.

“I know. I spent some time away.” You looked nonchalantly at your nails.

“Well you look great, Y/N.” She continued with a small smile.

“Thank you, I know.” You tossed your hair. “Tell me, Heather, are we close? Would you consider me a close friend?”

“I…” She stuttered awkwardly. “N-not close close, but I know your father and...your mother?” She interlaced her fingers and looked away, embarrassed. “Truth be told, I haven’t been keeping up with Sinopec as of late.”

“That’s perfectly alright.” You assured her. “Now, I’ve been looking for a charity to donate to. My dad has been bugging me about the yearly donations.” You said the words so easily, like water out of a waterfall.

“Oh really?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you know any because...well, I know you’re into those charities and non-profits.”

The sound of pages being turned filled the room and you turned back to your work. You didn’t even bother reading the page or taking notes, you had another mission at hand. Heather turned back to her work and after a while, she cleared her throat slightly.

“There’s actually...a gala for an organization that helps fight for LGBTQ+ rights. Would you like to come? I could get you an invite if you just send me your address.” She lowered her voice.

You glanced around. Everyone was focused on their work so you nodded.

“I’m really into helping out when I can, you know? Here I’ll give you my number-” you stopped, thinking it over. “Actually, give me your number.” You prompted.

“Oh? Alright?” She recited her number and you typed it into your phone. You felt her heated stare on the old phone in your hand.

“It’s a friend of mine’s old phone.” You said. “My father has yet to send me the latest one.”

“I see.” Heather narrowed her eyes and went back to taking notes.

You sent her a quick hello and smirked, going back to write down notes. Columbia College had been quite pleased to hear about all the non profit work and extracurriculars, not to mention your straight As in school. It was what you deserved.

“Y/N!” Heather waved you over and you descended the stairs with a smile.

There stood Heather in the middle of this grand ballroom. You tried not to look impressed.

“Heather.” You greeted her with a smile.

She pulled you into a quick hug and then grabbed two champagne glasses. Gold rimmed and bubbling with clear yellow liquid, she handed you a glass. The room was decorated lavishly with red drapes covering dark alcoves and chaise lounges positioned in the corners. These lounges were occupied by men and women all dressed to the nines. This type of luxury was what you deserved.

“You look gorgeous!” She complimented as she took in your appearance.

You had borrowed a dress from your much richer friend, though you personally believed that you pulled off the look better than her. You were the most beautiful after all.

“Ah, thank you. You look exquisite as well.” You brushed a stray hair from your face.

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N.”

You turned to the voice and were met with a familiar face. You were shocked to even see him at a place like this. He hadn’t struck you as this kind of person.

You had first met Park Jimin in a club. The lights were dim and you could barely make out his face, but you knew he was beautiful, just like you. The club was a world of beautiful people, all pressed against each other and sweating.

“How old are you?” He asked, looking you up and down as you sat at the bar. You smiled slyly, swirling your drink to the pounding music.

“Probably too young for you.” You shouted over the music.

His hands went to his hair. “Listen! My hair looks gray but I can assure you I am a 25 year old man in good standing!”

You laughed. He seemed nice, genuine. It was a breath of fresh air. His entire aura screamed that he was important, yet his personality quite opposed this notion. You looked him up and down.

He was a man of stature, standing tall and proud amongst the crowd, his hair was a silver gray, his eyes of a similar shade. Jimin was either high society or had no idea how to have fun. You were a perfect match.

“I believe you.” You replied happily, setting down your drink. “Want to get some fresh air?”

He smoothed down his coat and you wondered why he was dressed so formally to go to a nightclub.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Jimin.” You greeted him happily. He gently took your hand in his and kissed the back.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He said cordially, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“And you.” You bowed your head gracefully.

The music of the gala swelled and Heather cleared her throat. Her eyebrows were raised as high as the bronze arches that hung above you.

“You two...know each other?” She asked, eyeing Jimin.

Jimin nodded. “Yes, we met, achem, a little while ago.” You were grateful he didn’t mention the club.

“Well, Jimin is actually performing tonight, aren’t you?” Heather turned to him expectantly.

“Oh? Performing?”

The man seemed embarrassed by the sudden attention on him. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah, yeah, well, I’m just singing-”

“Jimin is an excellent singer.” Heather nodded and you followed suit.

“I’m not that great. My mom just had enough money to bribe the manager.” He joked and you chuckled along.

“Yeah, I get that.” You agreed. “But I’m sure you’re an amazing singer, Jimin.” You looked him up and down, a smile growing.

“He is!” The other girl chimed in before Jimin could protest. The clock chimed 8:00 P.M. and you glanced upwards.

“I think that’s my cue to go.” Jimin announced, waving off a waiter who offered him a glass.

“Alright! Best of luck, Jimin.” You bowed your head politely and he did the same.

Heather watched the interaction intently. Once he was gone, she started laughing which caused you to look over at her sharply.

“You guys really just eye fucked each other for a whole five minutes. I didn’t think it was possible after seeing Anna’s reaction to him. At least it was mutual this time.”

“Anna?”

“Yeah, the daughter of the guy who made Adobe or whatever.”

“Oh, of course, I remember her.” You said easily, grabbing another glass of champagne.

You were going to need a lot of alcohol to make it through this night, but these luxuries were what you had always wanted.

“I would be careful, though, Y/N.” She glanced around. “He doesn’t have the best track record with women, though he attracts them like bees to flowers.”

“Oh I see.” You followed her eyes. “But from the way you look at him, I can assume you’ve been one of those women?”

She narrowed her eyes and then chuckled, though the sound was a bit strained.

“Me And Jimin? No, no. I can admit he is handsome, but we would never make a good pair.” Heather was quiet for a moment and then she crossed her arms, her gaze growing distant. “He’s too caught up in himself. You remind me of him.”

“I beg your pardon?

“Forget I said anything.”

The music began to swell and you looked up from your conversation as the curtain on the stage began to lift. The din of the room died down. A man with a rainbow pin and black tuxedo stood center stage. He held himself with confidence.

“Thank you, everyone, for attending this charity event for the Audre Lorde Project. Today, we are so grateful to be able to present Mr. Park Jimin as our entertainment for the night. If you donate, he will sing a song of your choosing!” The MC leaned in. “Just don’t be inappropriate, folks.” He winked.

“Now presenting….Park Jimin!”

You watched as the familiar man walked on stage. He looked quite dashing, sporting a rainbow tuxedo and white shoes. You were sure they must have cost a fortune. His rings alone must have cost at least $21,000. Then his shoes, oh, his shoes. They were perfectly clean, so white they could reflect the dim lighting.

People were quick to go up and pay for a song. The songs started at $1,000 and you pursed your lips, checking your wallet. Did you have enough? Yes, of course you have enough, you’re the daughter of Sinopec.

You set your mind on deciding a song. Heather began chatting to you about school, but you were hardly paying attention. You started drifting towards the box that held the donations. Heather moved along with you, unknowing to your next move. You straightened, holding up a hand, which quickly silenced Heather, and zeroed in on the box.

Withdrawing your money, you wrote a quick check for $1,000. Then you haphazardly tossed it into the box. Then you wrote your song on the sign up sheet and went back to the center of the room. You waited, tapping your foot impatiently. You wanted everything now, but you could try to be patient for once.

Heather continued talking about...whatever she was talking about. Halfway through her rambling, a familiar tune began to play. Your eyes shot up from where they were resting on your drink to the stage. You could feel Jimin’s heated stare.

“I think I'm too cool to know ya. You say I'm like the ice, I freeze. I'm churnin' out novels like Beat poetry on Amphetamines.” He sang and his voice was a perfect tune.

You felt your toes curl pleasantly as his sweet voice tingled your eardrums. Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey. You eyed him up and down, taking note of a particularly expensive looking Rolex watch.

As you made eye contact with him through the crowd, your heart thumped an untimely beat. Mine.

Jimin left hand in hand with you. What a sight to see. A couple that no one had expected, one out of the blue. You giggled, shifting over in the back of the cab to Jimin’s place.

His hand slowly inched its way over to your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. Your eyes stayed trained on his face. The dark city streets casted eerie shadows over your figures, but you felt calm nonetheless.

Your hand reached out and touched his cheek. A wordless communication. May I? To be answered with you may. And he leaned in, diving into your arms, melding his lips against yours like you were meant to be. You both gasped for air, but it was a battle for dominance and neither of you were about to back down.

You bit playfully at his lips, devouring his strawberry lip balm like it was your last meal. He pushed against you so your back thumped against the door. His hands found your hips and he pressed into you tightly.

Your hands gripped his hair and you refused to part from his lips, the cold metal of his Rolex dug into the fabric of your dress. You wanted that watch.

The taxi slowly pulled up to the apartment complex and you both hurried out. Jimin haphazardly overpaid the driver and you both took a break to get your bearings before walking into his high end apartment building.

“Hey, let’s try to look like we didn’t just make out like animals, okay?” Jimin patted your arm.

So you went about smoothing down your hair, pulling down your skirt a little lower, and patting your cheeks gently to try and, in vain, dispel the light flush.

You both stumbled your way inside, laughing drunkenly. He helped stand you upright, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. There was a jingle of something falling to the ground, but you paid it no mind. He helped you all the way up to his apartment where you leaned against the wall while he searched for his keys.

“Shit!” He cursed, sinking down beside you, his back thumping against the wall. “I lost my keys.” He grumbled.

“Ah, that’s fine.” You laughed, “Just my luck.”

“You seem pretty lucky, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky, I guess, but I want a lot more than luck, you know?”

“And what do you want?”

“You.” You answered quickly.

And that was the first time a lie had registered in your addled brain. Because that wasn’t true, no, not at all. Jimin was wonderful, handsome, smart, but you wanted something more material than these flimsy emotions.

You wanted money. As you watched his expression melt into a lustful haze, you flexed your fingers and clenched them over and over. You could play his game of emotions, you could do it. You thought as he went in for another kiss.

It was a cold morning. Jimin had black out curtains. You could hide from the world very nicely here. You were awake at 1 A.M.

After a long night of searching and making out, the searching part of which you found far more enjoyable, you found his keys. He had dropped them in the lobby on the way in and the desk attendant had grabbed them. You went through your routine, replacing yourself with a pillow in his arms.

“Huh. I always thought that only worked in movies?” You tilted your head and went back to your routine. After a while of getting ready, you sat beside the bed, watching him.

He breathed steadily. You glanced around, finally deciding to explore. You stood, picking up discarded clothes and observing his apartment. It was big, bigger than yours.

There were expensive things everywhere. You could guess he was old money. A glint of gold in the morning light caught your eye. You walked over, carefully not to disturb the floorboards. On his bedside table was the Rolex watch.

“You can keep it.” His gruff voice said. “It’s not important to me, but you’ve been eyeing it all night.”

“Why would you give this to me?” You asked, lifting the watch to look at it in the slim sliver of light that cracked through the curtain. You wanted to applaud his awareness and observation skills.

“There’s something about the desperation in your eyes, Y/N. It’s exhilarating, beautiful, new. People are so...complacent, so okay with their situations nowadays, especially when you’re in positions like you and I. I’m giving it to you as a promise that this wasn’t just a one night thing. I’m serious about this.” Jimin rolled over in bed. “I like people like you, Y/N. I fall in love with people like you.” His words were soft, his expression was stone cold.

And you knew what game he was playing at with extravagant promises and carefully chosen words, you were playing the same game. So you simply let him win.

You could do that, for him, because as much as you were using him to help yourself gain a boost, your heart was beginning to lead you astray. And you could not let that happen. Still, that scent of cinnamon and the taste of strawberries would likely always remind you of him.

Perhaps it was obsession that took you back to his place over and over again. It wasn’t so much him, but the idea of him. Maybe it was the idea that he was rich, that he had money, that he was handsome, but all that aside, you were perfectly incompatible.

Jimin was old money, old money that was long gone. For as long as Jimin remembered, his father had worked very very hard to run his company into the ground. Whether it be with the drinking or the extravagant parties, his money was gone.

He had an unquenchable thirst for money. Some could call it an unhealthy obsession. So when he met you...oh boy. You exuded this confidence, the kind only old money could have. He wanted it.

Call him cruel, but he didn’t mind stepping on a few toes to get where he needed to be. He didn’t mind crushing some woman’s poor dreams. He really didn’t mind. You were another stepping stone. You were supposed to be just another tool for success.

In his alcohol induced state, probably drug induced state as well, he came to the conclusion that you two would make quite a pair indeed, a power couple. But he needed you to become more powerful. It would be a mutually beneficial relationship.

“I don’t know, Jimin, I can get pretty nervous at interviews.” You had told him in response, but there was a gleam of excitement in your eyes, he didn’t read too much into it.

“I think you’ll be fine.” He patted your back with a smile.

Looking back, he never should have gotten you that interview with the New York Times. It was a poor decision on his part. Maybe if things had gone better, if he still remained ignorant of his situation and drank himself into debt like his father, he would be able to continue living his fantasy world. However, this would not be the case. He was not someone who was afraid of getting his hands dirty. And oh how dirty they were to become.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N, for joining us.” The reporter settled down across from you.

“Ah, it’s a pleasure.” You smiled. The woman smiled back and prepared her notepad.

She was a hardworking woman. She wore flats and a nice outfit for this interview, but as you analyzed her posture and position, you knew she would most likely prefer something more comfortable. She slumped ever so slightly, her lipstick was well applied but her nail polish was cracking and half peeled.

“I’m Anna and I’ll be interviewing you.”

“Anna? As in Anna, Adobe Inc’s daughter?”

“Yes!” She nodded happily. “I’m glad you remember me! You know, I only met you once really and we were children so I’m not surprised to see you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. Let’s see here…”

The interview began.

“What was it like, growing up with Zhao Dong as a father?”

“Well, Anna, he was absent a lot.” You said without a second thought, thinking back to your childhood sadly. “But he tried his best. I think I get a lot of my outgoing nature from him. He’s really a role model for me.”

“And do you have the same goals and aspirations that he has for the company?”

You chuckled lightly at the question.

“Oh dear, oh no.” You said, like it was some preposterous question. “Honey, he is all about the money. I am nothing like that. I’m all about human connection.”

Anna seemed pleased by this. Her eyes lit up and she hurriedly went to write down notes.

“You seem like such a nice, down to Earth, person, Y/N, how do you get this mindset after being raised so...well, rich.”

“I’ve gotten used to a lot of luxury, yes, but this does not take away from the fact that my father was always strict on discipline. He put a huge emphasis on respecting others and respecting situations we cannot comprehend. It is a valuable lesson I take to heart.” You nodded seriously, your hands gently folded in your lap.

Anna was, once again, pleased by your answer. You seemed to be telling her the right things.

Soon enough, your face was on the cover of every newspaper. The rich heiress to Sinopec is here in New York City! Or Y/N Dong, the future of the wealthy and elite.

You could bathe in the attention all day. In fact, you bought about 15 copies of the story and spread them around your apartment. You meticulously cut out each and every sentence that called you beautiful, complimented you, or even mentioned you and pasted them to the blank walls of your home. Even bad press was still press. After you were done with your hard work, you collapsed on the sofa.

“Knock knock!”

You jolted upright. You looked around your apartment. The curtains were drawn over the windows, just like they always were. You looked around. Your apartment was a mess.

The floor was littered with pieces of paper, the fridge stood open and there were expertly placed scissors just lying on the ground waiting to be stepped on. You blinked wearily. It was a disorientation akin to being hungover but not quite.

“Knock knock?”

Your neck almost snapped with how hard you looked at the door. Shit. You immediately stood up, groaning in pain as you ripped your hand from the couch. You had somehow managed to glue your fingers to the fabric and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

You started madly sweeping the paper, quite literally, under the rug. Then you threw open your windows and were reminded of why you kept them closed. They faced a brick wall. A lovely sight to see.

You frowned, but rubbed your eyes and carried on in your cleaning frenzy nonetheless. The knocks sounded once more and you finally answered.

“One sec-” You cleared your gruff voice. “One second!”

You tripped over the coffee table and you withheld a scream of frustration. Instead you threw your hands up in anger and let out a silent shout.

“Everything alright in there?”

“Yup! Just- give me- a moment-” You held your stubbed toe and every curse you knew flew through your head.

You then ran to the mirror and quickly brushed through your hair. Finally, you made it to the front door, looking as presentable as possible.

When you opened the door, two familiar people shoved their way in.

“Ah, this place is smaller than I expected.” Heather announced, setting down a gift bag, Jimin entered after her with a shy smile. His face conveyed Heather’s words.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s only temporary. I used to live down at Wall Street but then there was a pipe problem with my neighbor and you know...water damage is a real problem.” You clicked your tongue unhappily and they nodded sympathetically.

“That’s completely understandable.” Heather said, moving to get a closer look at your walls. “Interesting decorations.”

“I like words of affirmation to hang around my apartment. It helps build self confidence.”

“Looks like you already have enough of that from the article I read.” Jimin chuckled, fingers brushing over a sentence plastered on the wall.

“Oh, you read that?” Your cheeks heated up. “It was nothing, really.”

“You’re practically everywhere, Y/N.” Heather pointed out. “It’s like knowing a celebrity.”

“But I’m no celebrity.” You said humbly. “I’m just a normal person.”

“My normal person.”

Possession. It was a common theme in your growing relationship with Jimin. You quite liked it. Your heart would always thump. A smile grew on your face and you gave him a quick kiss, one he returned gladly.

“You guys are disgusting. Get a room.” Heather huffed. “Anyway,” She turned and grabbed a gift bag as you and Jimin parted. “I’ve got this gift for you. Call it a congratulations for being on your first ever cover. I was only 15 when I was on mine, but whatever.”

“You didn’t have to.” You exclaimed, but happily took the gift. You threw out the tissue paper like an animal. “Oh! Earrings! I love them!” You exclaimed, surveying the expensive earrings. You assumed they must be at least $30,000.

“Well, it’s just a little thing. Also, I forgot to mention it, my birthday party is next week and I’d love for you to come! I’ll send you the invites!” Heather interlaced your fingers with hers and you shot her a wry smile.

“Of course, we’ll be there.” Jimin answered for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Oh! I forgot to ask, has your father seen your article?” Heather inquired, it was a simple ask, one that had you twisting your hands nervously.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure he has.” You said softly. “But he’s very busy as you know, so he just hasn't gotten in touch yet!” You assured her and when she nodded, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You didn’t want to know much about Jimin besides his family, his money, and how he looked. You just wanted him to be yours.

Jealousy. Yeah, that was definitely the green monster, as green as a freshly mowed lawn at bucking-fucking-ham palace. This feeling in your stomach was definitely jealousy. You told yourself you couldn’t feel jealous of Heather.

Heather even explicitly said she’d never fall in love with Park Jimin, but that was a real trick, a trap, because everyone fell for Park Jimin. There was something about the way she held onto his arm that had you transfixed, how she casually brushed his side when reaching for something.

You were seeing green and red. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her fucking hand for one second, even when other people were trying to get your attention. The party was high caliber, celebrating the birthday of said woman. But you could care less that it was her birthday, that man was yours.

You were like a predator, stalking the perimeter before swooping in for the kill. You puffed out your chest and walked straight into their little conversation.

“Jimin, Heather.” You greeted them with a warm smile, but inside you were screaming. It was a primal urge.

“Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it!” Heather pulled you in for a hug and you both balanced your champagne in one hand while doing the awkward one armed move. “Jimin and I were just discussing the latest actions of the Audre Lorde Project.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” You smiled slyly, all teeth and no glimmer of joy in your eyes to be found. “I just wanted to personally deliver my gift to you.” You thrust out the package.

“Oh no no, you don’t have to! Besides, if you do, then suddenly everyone will want to come over and I just want to talk to you guys for now.” She lowered her voice and smirked.

You nodded, though your fingers clenched around the handles tightly. You trudged over to the gift table and haphazardly threw the bag among the other gifts.

It wasn’t anything special, just the ring you had gotten from Astteria. You had wanted to get rid of that old thing anyway. You glanced at the two, still talking. You gritted your teeth and stormed away to the bathroom.

You and Jimin did many things together. You learned his favorite color, his mother’s name and her favorite song, you learned about his life, his backstory. However, your favorite thing to do with Jimin was to make out.

Now, this might seem shallow, but making out with Jimin was like heaven on Earth. He knew how to move his lips, touch just the right spots, to get you melting.

He was the sun in a New York City heatwave and you were a popsicle melting below. It was truly a sight to behold, although Heather would disagree. As your hands would play a game of untying ties with his suit, your mind played a different game, a far more deadly one.

“I love you.” You reeled him in. He followed you like a moth to a light. “I love you a lot.” You declared and he simply fell away under your grasp.

You had always enjoyed the sight of people falling beneath you as you stripped away their exteriors to find what made them tick.

“You’re mine, Jimin, all mine.” You breathed heavily, gasping for breath as he moved to your neck.

He made quick work of the clean skin, littering it with purple marks, delicately crafted by his skilled lips. His teeth grazed your ear, making you suck in a breath. Your, his, rolex watch pressed into his warm skin.

“Tell me, Jimin, tell me you’re mine.” You said desperately and he groaned in delight.

“I love it when you talk to me like that.” He peppered kisses along your jawline. “I love that sound, begging for me like a dog.” He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer, but you didn’t mind. “I’m yours, baby, but only if you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours.” And he dove back to your lips like an animal.

“I’m madly in love with you, Y/N.” He murmured. “And you’re all mine.”

It was a perfect fairytale, but all fairytales need a villain.

I have no idea who this woman is, posing as my daughter. She is an imposter for sure, or delusional. The subtitles on the T.V. read as you flipped through the article that just landed outside your door.

You seethed, feeling your heart sink as one by one, the article undid your many lies. You almost wanted this destruction, because with it came release.

The release of pressure on your chest, from the weight of all these lies. They were carefully built, framing you in the perfect light, but you didn’t want everything to be undone.

“What’s going on?” He picked up the phone. Your hands were shaking. “Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I-I...don’t read the news, meet me outside my apartment door.” You said quickly, your voice quivering. You heard him roll out of bed.

“Okay. I’ll be right there.”

You sent the same sentiments to Heather. You needed to explain this before they found out. You needed Jimin to understand your side of the story. Jimin was yours. No one else should have him. Ever since you’d set your eyes on him, you had known he was to be your newest obsession.

“Y/N?!” Heather’s screeching voice echoed up the stairs and you knew it was too late for her.

“I know what you think about me, Y/N, but I don’t feel the need to flaunt my riches. I may seem like a real stupid bitch, but I’m not.” Heather snapped, slapping the newspaper down in front of you while you waited with Jimin. He picked up the paper before you could stop him.

“Y/N? Is this true?” He asked cautiously, his eyes scanning the page.

“Y/N? How could you?”

“Y/N?” Y/N Y/N Y/N. The chant was dizzying. Everyone wanted a piece of you, damn it.

“Shut up! Shut up!” You cried, breathless.

They both stopped. Heather’s eyes were pure anger, but Jimin looked confused, lost. He abruptly stood and you went along with him. Heather turned on her heel, storming out.

“Don’t talk to me again, freak.” Heather said, her words bitter as she exited into the cold morning air. Mornings were always cold it seemed.

“How many things have you lied about? Are you even Y/N? Is that even your name?!” He questioned, the buzz of anger growing.

“I can’t...I can’t tell you that.” And you couldn’t. You’d lost track a long time ago.

“Jimin! Jimin please! Wait!” You grasped his hand desperately. He turned around furiously, sharply.

“What do you want? You wore your little disguise so well and I, like a fool, fell for it.” His voice cracked.

“I know I’ve lied about-about a lot of t-things, but I know one thing that’s the truth,” You pleaded. “I love you.”

His gaze hardened. “How do I know that’s not a lie?”

And you couldn’t tell him that either.

A pathological liar. Your mother would have been heartbroken by the label placed upon her precious daughter. You would have been offended as well if it weren’t for the objective truth.

Even when Columbia University expelled you for not only lying about grades and extracurriculars, but also just for being an awful person as they tried to lightly put it, everything still hadn’t hit home.

You were beautiful, fit for a queen. It was such a shame, then, when people also found out that you had no money. It made you hungry for the stuff. Now, the trick was to make sure they didn’t find that out.

Your mother had always been a good woman, but your father had easily gambled away all the money saved. Perhaps you got this carefree, flamboyant personality from him?

A narcissist. Not what you had expected as a new label either, but if it was in the papers, it must be true. In the end, all your little escapades had gotten you in a lot of debt, but the banks had just kept loaning you money. You had no idea why. Maybe it was like Jimin said, you had worn your disguise so well.

“Wow, a narcissist, huh?” You studied yourself in the mirror.

Your apartment was always dark, but you felt a particular chill today. You spoke to yourself, everyone else having had abandoned you.

“I don’t think that’s right.” You argued back to no one. “I’m...Y/N...the daughter of Zhao Dong. that’s me.” You said over and over, but you were no longer convinced and deep down you knew it was all a sham, a lie.

One thing had built on another and another until all the lies piled up and you could no longer dig yourself out. Your head was often spinning trying to remember everything everyone had ever told you.

But the thing was, at a certain point, it had no longer been a fib, a disguise. You had become Y/N, the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman Zhao Dong. At a certain point, you had become someone else, and that was all you had ever wanted.

Then you started laughing uncontrollably before sweeping your arm across the counter, sending various beauty products tumbling to the floor. Your body shook.

“No, no, no. It was all a lie.” You giggled. “It was just a lie, you’re just Y/N Y/L/N from a goddamn backwater town.” You slapped your cheeks, hard, as if that could erase all that was done.

It seemed that you were the villain of this fairytale, but you couldn’t quite believe it. As you looked in the mirror, the darkness of the bathroom slowly closing in around you, you could see yourself clearly.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were the evil queen and there was no snow white, just you and your shitty castle. And you were alone. Not even Jimin wanted a thing to do with you, having called your reckless actions disgusting. You had assured him you weren’t a psychopath.

You remembered the conversation on the phone after calling him several times.

“I’m sorry, how can I make it up to you?” You had asked. He had simply laughed bitterly and shifted his phone .

“You’ve already stolen everything from me, Y/N, and I fully intend to take back most of it, but you can keep the watch.” and then he hung up.

1 A.M. wake up.

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day. Fall back asleep.

3 A.M.

Get out of bed.

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while.

5 A.M.

Take a deep breath.

Start your day.

You didn’t have a home to return to. You didn’t have anyone who loved you and you most certainly didn’t have a reputation. With your face staining every front page of a newspaper, you had nowhere to hide, but you were just one person. You needed some fresh air, and where to best do that except at the top of the Empire State Building?

You were surprised to brush past Jimin on the way up to the top floor, but you should have guessed. You supposed his mother worked there. Either way, he followed you, asking if anything was wrong. Like a fucking psychopath.

“STOP!” You cried, turning to him as you reached the top floor. There had to be roof access somewhere up here.

“I want to know if you’re okay?” His eyes were kind and you were reminded of how everything had been before.

But you had already hurt each other, the past was past, there was only forward in this meaningless space of nothing.

“Haven’t I hurt you enough?!” You shouted, tears finally making their way down your face.

He pulled you back as you started to search the top floor, which was deserted save for two workers filing out for the night.

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered.

His eyes were furious, a volcano, a matchstick ready to ignite. It caught you off guard.

“Because, even though I hate you right now with every bone in my goddamn body, I would stop you from doing something stupid, like what I think you’re about to do, over and over again. No matter what.” He stopped, words stuttering, jawline clenching as he searched for the words.

“And maybe that’s what makes me the fool.”

He stepped back into the elevator and the doors slowly closed. You couldn’t bring yourself to join him, simply standing in shock at his declaration. And then he was gone. You saw him once more at a club with Heather on his arm, and after that, you never saw him again.

You would sometimes think you saw him; the flash of his silver hair, his figure ducking into a shop, the smell of him when you woke up, the taste of strawberry on your lips but he was never there. You didn’t need the money anymore. You realized...you had just wanted him.

Loving him was electrifying, like a hurricane at times and calm waters at others. You were a train on its way to be wrecked, and you had finally...run off the rails.

Fin

Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine Cashmere, cologne and hot sunshine Red racing cars, sunset and vine And we were young and pretty

Taglist: @thereaderstea , @sadboibts, @ditttiii

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the-most-slytherin-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Chapter 8

Here is your poorly scheduled dose of O’knutzy. As always credit for the characters goes to @lumosinlove. The fic was inspired by @heyitssmiller and her anons :)

Masterlist

TW: mentions of blood and injury

TW: hinted abusive relationship and past abuse

The first thing Leo noticed when he woke up was how warm he felt. There was a comforting weight on either side of him. He sighed contentedly, letting himself melt into the feeling of Logan’s arms and the rhythm of Finn’s even breathing.

He lifted his hand to trace Finn’s face lightly, a soft smile appearing on his lips when he felt Logan trailing kisses across his shoulders. “Good morning, Le.”

Leo smiled when Logan came up to kiss him properly. “Morning”.

“Can I get kisses?” Asked Finn, voice heavy with sleep.

Leo pretended to think about it making Finn pout. He smiled before kissing them. A goofy smile appearing on Finn’s lips when they parted, “I love my life.”

Leo did too. It had been two days since they had first kissed him. The best two days of his life. He couldn’t remember a time where he had been so happy, or had felt so loved.

“Today is my birthday”, he said nonchalantly. “Oh my god today is my birthday.” He said again, this time with more excitement.

“Happy birthday sweetheart.” Finn said softly, kissing his cheek.

Logan draped himself over Leo’s back, his arms around his shoulders. “Happy birthday starlight”, he whispered before pressing a kiss to Leo’s jaw and lips.

“What do you want to do?”

Leo turned to look at Finn, but didn’t answer. His mind couldn’t concentrate on anything that wasn’t Logan’s lips on his neck. He whined softly making Logan chuckle. “I thought we were going to see the stars.” A kiss to his shoulder. “Isn’t that why you made us bring you here in the first place?” A kiss behind his ear. “It would be a shame if you made the trip and didn’t get to see them.” Logan kissed his lips, Leo’s eyes fluttering shut. The sight of his boys kissing still made Finn’s heart stutter.

Some incoherent string of yes and sure was the only think Leo managed to say before being kissed by Finn. Their kiss was sweeter, less teasing than Logan, but no less perfect.

Getting ready was a haze of tender kisses and sweet smiles. Leo was sure he could stay in that morning forever and be completely content.

The three of them spent the day with June and Heather. Going through the market and visiting some of their favorite places. When night started to set they said goodbye to the girls. Leo promising to help June with one of her projects.

Logan grabbed one of Leo’s hands, tangling their fingers together and pulling him away from the market and towards the docks. “Where are we going”, Leo asked, giggling at his boyfriend’s antics.

“It’s a surprise.”

Leo looked behind him to ask Finn where they were going, but they weren’t there. “Where’s Fish?” Logan just grinned at him. It did absolutely nothing to calm his suspicion.

When they reached the docks Leo let out a soft gasp. “Get in”, Finn said motioning to the small boat.

“What is this?”

Finn smiled softly at Leo, taking his hand to help him get on. “We promised to take you to see the stars. This is our little tradition, and now”, they kissed Leo lightly, “it’s yours too.”

Leo smiled. He turned to look at Logan who was looking at them with soft eyes. “I-” the words got stuck in his throat, he loved them both so much. He had thought love like this would hurt, but it was as easy as breathing. “Thank you”. The words were barely a whisper.

Logan smiled brightly, taking one of Leo’s hands in his and kissing his knuckles. “It’s getting dark”, he looked at Finn and nodded slightly.

The boat started moving towards the center of the lake. Leo looked around the calm surface of the water, the darkening sky making it look all shades of dark blue and purple. He extended an arm to touch the water, the contact sending ripples through the stillness. Finn took a flower out of his hair and placed it on the now calm surface.

A soft gasp left Leo’s lips when he saw it. The reflection of a small lantern glowing against the dark lake. Logan kissed his temple, arms wrapping around his waist. Leo leaned against him, his eyes trained in the lantern’s reflection as a hundred others joined it. “Look up baby.” Logan said softly.

Leo did, the sight of a thousand small lanterns floating in the sky taking his breath away. “Leo”, he heard Finn whisper. He turned to look at them, a smile taking over his face when he was what they were holding.

“When did you get these”, he said pointing to the lanterns in Finn’s arms.

“Heather got them for me.” They handed one to Leo and the other to Logan. “We thought you would like to join tradition.”

Leo smiled adoringly at them. “Thank you.” He looked to Logan, placing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Both of you.”

Now that all three of them had a lantern in their hands they released them into the air gently. They kept floating up, dancing around each other until they joined the others. Illuminating the world around them in soft hues of gold and orange light.

Leo looked between Logan and Finn, their faces bathed in starlight. Something clicked into place in his heart. I love you, he thought.

Leo was the first to get out of the boat when they reached the other side of the small lake, helping Logan and Finn so they wouldn’t fall. They walked for a bit, sharing kisses and careless laughter, overwhelming happiness taking over Leo’s senses.

“Leo, dear”, came a woman’s voice from the shadows, her tone laced with a fake sweetness. “What are you doing so far from home sweetheart.”

Leo stopped in his tracks, looking around for the woman, the happy feeling he had mere moments ago withering to nothing. He didn’t like the way sweetheart sounded in her voice. That word was Finn’s. He flinched when he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at who it was, only to be met with Logan’s worried eyes. “Are you okay Le?”

“Leo”, the woman’s voice said hauntingly.

Finn came to stand besides Leo, shoulders tense. They laced their fingers with his in silent reassurance. “Who is that?” They whispered into Leo’s ear.

“Walburga.” Leo said it loud enough so that the woman could hear him. He saw Logan’s eyes widen and turned around to where the other man was staring. Walburga stood in her green long sleeved dress and black cape, a smile on her face. It may have looked welcoming if Leo couldn’t see the rage in her eyes.

“What are you doing out of the tower, love. You know it’s not safe out here.” The barely suppressed anger in her voice made Leo flinch.

“How did you find me?” Finn noticed how small Leo made himself sound. This was nothing like the man they had met at the tower or the man they had spent almost a week with. The change in demeanor made them hate Walburga even more.

“Oh that”, she waved her hand dismissively, “the Carrows are incredibly whiny. And imagine my surprise when they complained about a pair of brats that stole from them with the help of a blonde boy with incredibly long hair.”

Leo winced. Logan wanted nothing more than to hug him and hide him away from the world.

“Of course after they mentioned you were heading to Gryffindor I came as soon as I could.” She continued. “Slytherin wasn’t so far away, it seems I got here just in time.” She sent a dark look towards Finn and Logan.

“What? No warm welcome for your mother?”

Leo didn’t answer, he didn’t meet her gaze. He stood there, looking at the ground, thinking of a way to escape. His mind had gone numb, a blanket of fear falling over him like it always did every time he saw her.

She looked disappointed. “It’s alright”, Leo knew it was anything but, “let’s go back home and we can forget you broke my rules.” He knew she wouldn’t forget.

Finn let go of his hand in favor of stepping in front of Leo. “He isn’t going anywhere with you.”

Walburga laughed. The sound put Logan on edge. “Is that so.” She began stepping around Finn. Logan saw it too late, the glint of steel that dropped from Walburga’s sleeve into her hand.

The woman plunged the dagger into the space between Finn’s ribs knocking the breath out of them. A white hot pain spread through their body making them scream.

Logan caught Finn before they could fall, settling them down on the ground gently, cradling their body against his and taking the knife out, wincing at Finn’s pained scream. When Logan looked back up at Leo he saw Walburga holding him back, her nails digging into his arms.

“Finn!” Leo screamed, his tone laced with anguish and rage, trying to break away from the woman’s grasp. Walburga’s nails etched half moons into Leo’s arms, almost breaking skin with how much he was struggling. “Let me go.”

Walburga put a small knife to Leo’s throat, making him freeze. “Stop moving”, she hissed into his ear.

He leaned away from the blade and tried to look her in the eye. “Please let me heal him. Please.” He didn’t care that he was begging. Finn was dying. He had to save them, even if it meant he would lose Finn and Logan. “Let me heal them and I’ll go with you. I won’t struggle and I won’t complain. I swear.”

She gave him a blank look. He met her dark cold eyes, pleading with her silently. “Very well”, she said coldly, “you can heal the boy.”

Leo wanted to slap her. For stabbing Finn, for calling them a boy, for every single thing she had done to all three of them in the last few minutes. But he didn’t. The moment he felt the cold of the knife leave his neck he ran to the most important people in his life, kneeling besides Finn, their blood seeping into his pants from where it had started accumulating in the ground.

“You’ll be ok baby.” Leo felt tears already prickling behind his eyes. “I promise.”

Finn looked down at the dagger on their hand. They looked up at Logan, a question in their eyes. Logan nodded, Walburga wanted Leo for what he could do, for a power he hadn’t chosen to have. She wouldn’t get him, not if Finn and Logan had any say in the matter.

They lifted their hand to rest at the nape of Leo’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Finn could taste the salt of the tears that had started to fall down both their faces. “I’m sorry”, they muttered against Leo’s lips.

Leo didn’t have time to react. He felt Finn’s hand grab his hair tightly and cut it with the edge of the dagger he was holding. A gasp left Leo’s lips. He watched gold turn a deep shade of brown. “No”, he whispered, realization settling over him and making his blood run cold. “Finn what-”.

Whatever he was about to say got cut off when he heard Walburga scream. A painful ragged scream that made him shiver. Leo watched her look at the now brown hair with a horrified expression, unable to tear his eyes away. Her skin had turned pale and wrinkled, her dark curls became wisps of white. She flipped the hood of her cape over her eyes, an agonizing wail escaping her chapped lips. Her knees gave out, no longer able to hold her up. She was dust before her knees hit the ground.

Leo turned to look at Logan when he heard him sob. He was hunched over Finn’s frail body, an ocean falling from his eyes. A pained sound tore itself from Leo’s lungs, “Why?” Leo felt like he was drowning. “Finn why?”

“We couldn’t see you get hurt Le.” Leo looked at Logan. “You couldn’t have healed Finn and escaped.” Logan tried to swallow down the tears. “She would have gotten to you.”

“Finn is going to-”, he couldn’t make himself say it. It would make it too real.

“I would rather die than see you back in her clutches Leo.”

“I can’t lose you Finn.” Leo’s breath stuttered. “I don’t want to live without you. I can’t exist in a world where you aren't by our side.”

Leo locked eyes with Finn, the tears flowing down his cheeks like twin rivers blurring his vision. “You can’t leave us Finn.” A sob escaped Logan’s lips, his arms tightened around Finn, pulling them closer. “You promised”, Leo could barely speak through the tears, “you promised nothing could take you away.”

Finn placed the hand that wasn’t holding Logan’s on Leo’s flushed cheek. Leo covered it with his own, trying to hold Finn closer, maybe then he could stop them from slipping away. “I love you Leo.”

A heart-wrenching sob ripped itself from Leo’s chest, he hated Walburga for making those words so heartbreaking. He hated her for making his life miserable. Hated her, because the moment he found a reason to be happy she came and ripped it away from him.

Leo felt something settle into his heart, into his very soul.

“I’m not letting her take you away from us”, a determined edge had overtaken the grief in his tone. “I’m not letting her take my happiness away.”

Logan gasped. The air around Leo seemed alight with power. When the other boy looked up his eyes glowed a brilliant gold, the tears flowing down his face reflecting the tendrils of light that were wrapping themselves around Finn. The soft light disappeared slowly, leaving nothing but a silver scar where the wound used to be. “Leo.” Logan couldn’t say much else, couldn’t think about much else.

Leo looked at Finn, tears of relief rolling down his cheeks. They sat up with a wince, putting a hand on Logan’s shoulder to stabilize themselves. Finn looked between Logan and Leo with a weak smile. They placed a hand on Leo’s cheek, chuckling softly when he leaned into it. “Did I ever tell you guys I’m really into brunettes”, they said tiredly, fingers tangling in Leo’s brown shoulder length hair.

Logan made a noise, something between a laugh and a sob and tackled Finn. Hugging them tightly and kissing them. Finn’s other arm wrapped around Logan’s waist, a giddy laugh bubbling out of them.

Leo got closer to them, pressing along their side and hugging them close. He nuzzled his face into Finn’s shoulder, placing soft kisses along their neck and jaw. “I love you too.” He looked at Logan, “I love you both so much.”

Logan melted a little at that. He detached himself from Finn so he could kiss Leo. “I love you.” Another kiss. “There aren’t enough stars in the sky to measure how much I love you two.”

They sat there a while longer, tired from the ordeal they had just gone through. Logan was the first to get up, giving his hand to Finn to help them up. Then he helped Leo stand and kissed him softly. Finn hugged them, the warmth from both of them helping the last of the tension melt from Leo’s body. “Come on”, Logan said softly, “let’s go home.”

Leo nodded. They were going to be ok. Walburga was gone, she couldn’t hurt him anymore. Couldn’t hurt his loves anymore. They were going to be ok.

#o'knutzy tangled au #finn o'hara #leo knut #logan tremblay #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #tw: blood #tw: implied past abuse

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katsukisbeatingheart · 4 years

Text

sing to me

soulmate au where you can hear the songs stuck in your soulmate’s head. the closer you are to them the quieter the music becomes, before the voice changes altogether.

word count: 2,440

a.n.: helo i have a few of these typed up and a few others in progress explicitly for soulmate aus. it’s the least angsty one so far so here you go friends.

(psst here’s dabi’s)

(psst here’s sero’s)

(psst here’s bakugou’s)

listen while you read 👉👈

ao3

Shinso Hitoshi did not sing, and isn’t the type to give even so much as a hum. But when he did—of his own volition, mind you—he never did so in front of people.

Which is how he knew this soulmate bullshit might not actually be all that contrived.

Sometimes he’d catch himself embarrassingly humming or whistling in public—usually to the absolute amusement of his friends and family—stuck with songs in his head he hadn’t even ever heard of. And it was in times like that he’d begin singing something ridiculous back, as his own petty way to clearly say ’stop’.

When the music would disappear, he’d chuckle lightly to himself and continue about his day.

Only to fall asleep that night to you whispering sweet, sweet literal nothings from the far side of his mind. Barbie Girl was a slap and a half, but if he had to check out with it rolling around in his head at two a.m. for the third night in a row, he’d dedicate his waking hours to annoying the hell out of you.

See how you liked it being startled awake—hopefully, he wasn’t 100% on the time difference—by Caramelldansen.

There were even a few times where you’d try to push music into each other at the same time. Like hijacking a radio frequency, you’d change channels on each other all day and all night until it was a warbled cacophony of noise, bordering on a headache big enough for a small city. Rarely would either of you concede, but if and/or when you did, you’d make sure the song was something you both liked.

At any other rate, Shinso had to give you credit for your taste in music; even if he didn’t recognize a fair few, he’d remember the lyrics and scour the internet later looking for them like his life depended on it. He already had a building playlist of the songs you’d sing to him—separate ones for the songs he knew, the songs he didn’t know, and his personal favorites. He kept those to himself like trade secrets, deflecting questions about what he was listening to or what kind of music he had on his phone.

Oftentimes, it was easy to guess how you were probably feeling if he just listened. There were queues of songs that made him feel relaxed and incredibly focused—which he assumed did the same for you—and others that just set him on fire.

Then there were days he felt like he was walking around with water in his shoes and a storm cloud lamenting with taut strings and frail keys. It was days like those that he liked to physically, consciously hum meme audios—or if the sadness was particularly dour, he’d find a quiet place, and sing songs that meant the world to him. Shinso wouldn’t hear anything back, and assume you were singing too.

The music said a lot about you, which was a considerable feat as he had never met you before, and he wanted to be selfish. He didn’t want to spoil what was special to you and him before he even got to see you.

You definitely worked your way around that, the maddening anonymity—using song titles to give away bits of information about one another as generously as you could. Favorite colors, films, seasons; all objective small talk suddenly turned scripture. He amassed everything in a small journal like priceless treasures—carrying around the value of another life in his pocket as casually as a to-do list. He had the music, but something tangible like this put his mind and heart at ease. You were really out there, and Shinso could meet you someday.

It wasn’t a known secret to anyone that subject posed one of his greatest fears. One day finding someone to spend the rest of ever with, with someone else’s song playing in his head.

In more than a few ways, you helped him remain largely optimistic. As long as he could hear you, he could find you, and as he got older and he acquired more freedoms and was just a little surer of himself, there was a chance.

That hope suddenly burned like ice on one derisively beautiful day.

Shinso dragged himself up the flights of stairs leading to his apartment, sliding around the stacks of moving boxes cluttering up the only way home. He tottered down the hall, and stepped through the threshold inattentively humming a new tune he’d heard that day that he thought you might like.

If there was one thing he could ever count on, it was your consistency.

Ever since you were kids, he grew up with annoying, made up nursery rhymes he still had memorized, as though he’d written them himself. They quickly turned into fun jingles, which then morphed into some of the most beautiful melodies he’d ever heard. Those didn’t usually have lyrics though, so it wasn’t like he could look them up to be sure—and yet he somehow knew they were original to you.

It was then that he realized, he had never gone a single day of his life without music.

So, when he sat back after a long night of work and readied himself for at least a few hours’ sleep, he froze. Shinso hadn’t heard a beat of song all day. Not anything besides what might have been jumping around him as he went out for errands or to the agency.

With a harsh shake of his damp hair, he swiped a towel over his stony expression. His clenched jaw was starting to drive an ache into his skull.

You probably slept all day, he reasoned.

Even though he was sure you’d sent songs to him in sleep more than a few times in your life…

No. Absolutely not.

He shook himself free of worries, refusing to end the day with fear in his heart where the music should be.

Instead, he closed his eyes and slipped into a tune he’d fallen asleep to before—one that he was sure you created. It rained over his restless consciousness like sun-drops and star-dew, pulling steady, even breaths out of him and pushing a gentle weightlessness in.

The next morning, however, brought even more questions Shinso was just slightly afraid to have answered. Still no sign of the little voice that sounded like him, but was not his own. He absently picked up on a lilting murmur somewhere from upstairs, and anchored to it the more the weightlessness slowly began disappearing.

Shinso shrugged off his nerves, whistling light and roses into the bathroom mirror through his teeth. He splashed cold water into his face and closed off the tap with a huff, sending a final apprehensive glance to his reflection before heading out the door.

He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly ineffably compelled to turn into the shop on the corner after a quick run to the market—but he is. Maybe it’s the incoherent and yet still familiar ringing in his ears, clear as a bell ushering him along his spontaneity.

Shinso’s morning started jittery and threatened to boil over in anarchical agitation. Strolling down the street with the absence of his wonted metronome, hands in his pockets tapping to the beat of an abandoned drum, he felt he stuck out like a loose screw. He was mindless in his trips to each store as he blindly reached for things he was vaguely sure he needed.

It was when he had stepped out onto the corner that something inexplicable snapped into place.

Shinso jogged across the street and through the inviting doors of a building whose name he hadn’t even bothered to read. He found himself surrounded by chrysanthemums and dahlias before he realized he’s in a floral parlor.

The redolence of fresh soil and ingratiatory verdure engulfed his wearied demeanour; the petals brushed his cheeks, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d suggest that the bouquets were reaching for him. The salvia and larkspur waved from the other end of the aisle, and he followed their purple buds to the other side of the shop.

He stopped to admire the camellias and daffodils, lightly taking them between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

Butterflies.

Hitoshi’s eyes widened with a start, his posture straightening like he’d been struck with lightning.

They fill my guts when I look in your eyes.

He pivoted back and forth on his heels, desperately looking to the flowers for an explanation. A voice filled his head for the first time in nearly two days.

A heart that’s young is filled with sweet surprise.

This time though, the voice isn’t his. It’s clear and ringing and it doesn’t belong to him. The usual warmth he felt basking in the sound of music you whisper in his voice does nothing to compare with the exhilaration frothing in his chest now. Shinso ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, sliding it down his neck and over his shoulder.

It’s really not his, he inwardly surmised. It’s like listening to someone from inside a bubble, though; it’s a round and full sound, but he just knew if it were only slightly louder, the barrier would pop and he’d be free.

Only the innocent can sympathize.

It’s yours.

He brushed past the water lilies, clearing row after row as casually as he could in a futile attempt so as to not appear deranged.

I don’t care

The voice bled into his mind clearer, like watching the gentle shift of river to ocean water through facile currents. He turned the last corner with a breath of anticipation. In a final bit of direction, the lilac, heather, and baby’s breath spilled out of an ornate frame, unquestionably pointing to a figure facing away from him.

“About the funny way you wear your hair,” you crooned. You turned to tenderly repot the rosy begonia cupped in your palms, tucking it in place with the most serene gleam Shinso Hitoshi had ever seen. He sighed, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for years.

“Someday you’ll let me put my comb up there.”

“’Till then you’re beautiful and I just stare,” Hitoshi finished softly.

You almost dropped your armful of forget-me-nots. Your strangled breath caught in your throat, hooked solely on the man standing there waiting. He gazed at you with an amused smile and crinkled, bruised eyes. It’s reminiscent of a sleepy kitten and if you hadn’t been so shocked, you’d have melted in your shoes.

“I missed your voice yesterday,” he drawled almost lazily, crossing his arms over his chest. You cleared your throat, rolling upright with a swing of your hands as they lock together at your back.

“I was going to say the exact same thing.”

His movements reminded you of a large jungle cat, stalking forward with a controlled lethargy tensed in anything but. As eager as you were, you matched him beat for beat, dragging your quivering legs in delicate strides down the aisle.

“So, is this supposed to mean we met sometime yesterday then?”

He stood right in front of you, finally close enough to recognize as the nameless and faceless childhood friend you’d been listening to since you could think on your own. You stepped into him, coming to a stop just before the tips of your shoes met his.

“It’s likely.”

“No way,” he said with a resolute shake of his head. “I’d remember you if that were the case.”

“You sound so sure of yourself.”

He stared you down with a focus you wouldn’t expect from eyes as exhausted looking as his.

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” You bashfully tugged at the fabric of your clothes, the warmth in your chest spreading upwards to beam across your face. Flattening your palm against the expanse of his collar bone, you idly swung your hands over the surface like a pendulum.

“Maybe we just missed each other then—crossed paths without finishing them,” you suggested, twirling a lock of purple around your finger.

“You wouldn’t happen to be moving in somewhere, would you?”

Your head jerked with a small start to twist at him quizzically. How could he possibly know that?

“In a complex a few blocks away from here, yes. Why?”

Shinso’s smile broke into parts amusement and incredulity.

“Looks like I’m your new neighbor,” he grinned. My neighbor? You lit up, eyes twinkling with excitement.

“That means—!”

“You’re stuck with me, yeah.”

“That can’t be such a bad thing,” you started, dropping your voice to push into him more, “—after all, I’m a little new to the area.” You blinked, letting a coquettish simper slide across your features.

“I could do with some sort of guide if I’m going to survive out here, you know.”

“I think I know a guy,” he murmured, a strained husk in his volume.

“Oh, you do, do you?” you whispered under fragile breaths.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning down to angle his face with yours. Just as you reached in to touch his lips, he pulled back suddenly, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “Tall, blond, black streak of lightning across his bangs—hard to miss. I’ll introduce you; probably just your type.”

You rolled your eyes and punched his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt in an iron fist.

“How could you possibly know my type?”

You pulled his stupid happy face to yours and kissed the mischief out of him, and he dissolved into a tender mess under your fingertips. All of this was new and unexpected, but he imagined seeing, meeting, and eventually kissing you going much different. Shinso hadn’t expected colliding like old, familiar friends; Shinso hadn’t expected missing the way you pressed into him, as though you’d done it a thousand times before. This was a first kiss between two people, but not the first time you’d ever touched.

“Be careful,” he sighed, voice richly warm, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

You languidly pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth, tracing time signatures into his jawline.

“Have been since we were kids, thanks for noticing.”

“You mean to tell me Mr. Snuffles Is My Best Friend was actually for me? I’m flattered.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. Absolutely not about one of my favorite stuffed animals.”

“That’s good to know. And here I was thinking I would have to challenge a teddy bear for your hand.” You laughed heartily, pressing your forehead into his chest.

“Can I walk you home?”

You fingered the fabric of his shirt, leaning in to feel the rhythm of his heart. It was the prettiest song you had ever heard.

“I’m already there.”

#my hero academia x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #bnha x you #bnha reader insert #bnha imagines #mha imagines #soulmate au #bnha soulmate au #officer im babey #and i love him #my writing #a123 #shinsou hitoshi x reader

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preciouspeterbparker · 3 years

Text

the warmest bed i’ve ever known

finally got this bitch finished!

based on “tis the damn season” by taylor swift. i was also listening to the phoebe bridgers cover of “christmas song”, “last christmas” cover by pale waves (recorded @ spotify), and “home alone, too” by the staves

also this is only my 2nd time writing starker so lmk what you think plz?

happy holidays! - bloo

word count: 6.07k. this was intended to basically be a porny blurb...instead there’s so much fucking plot it’s probably overwhelming and minimal porn. i’m sorry

warnings: angst, depression & anxiety, drug use (that good kush ft some hotboxing & shotgunning), smut, character death (not tony or peter), tony’s kind of country lmao. despite all the aforementioned things, there is in fact a happy ending!

summary: peter makes the trip back home for christmas and once again finds himself caught up in deep brown eyes and a charming smile. tis the damn season.

Peter had forgotten how cold New York winters were. He’d grown used to the year-long warmth of Los Angeles. He supposed the cold was appropriate- it was as if the weather was in cahoots with the solid, frigid thing that was sitting in the pit of his stomach. The last time he’d spent Christmas in Aurora, the last time he’d seen him… Tony.

Just thinking the other man’s name made Peter flex his hands anxiously as he slid out of the driver’s seat of his black Mercedes AMG GT into the amber glow of the streetlight, gently shutting the door closed behind him, still in the overly cautious period of owning the new car. He wondered what Tony would think of it. Last time Peter had come home, he was still driving May’s old Subaru. It’d been almost 2 years to the day, now, which felt like both a century and no time at all. He wished it wasn’t so hard. He wished they hadn’t been caught in this song & dance for so long. It seemed like no matter how good Peter’s intentions, it always came down to one thing: he was so damn scared. He always ran away, no matter how badly he wanted to stay.

Scuffing a boot through the slush in the street, the brunette straightened his shoulders and made his way toward the brick building, a quick smile quirking half his mouth up as he read the neon red sign above the closed garage door. Stark’s. Memories came flooding back, the countless nights he spent cooped up in the little shop during high school, sketching elaborate ensembles and daydreaming about having his very first collection while surrounded by the smell of motor oil and the sounds of tinkering. The bell above the door jingled merrily as Peter stepped through and wiped his feet on the mat. The pleasant sound of Frank Sinatra crooning the words of “The Christmas Waltz” met his ears. Another small smile flitted over Peter’s face. That was something that tended to happen when he was around Tony.

“Just a second,” came the slightly muffled voice, a little strained. The man in question was bent over, headfirst in the engine of his old 1979 Chevy C10, the one he’d gotten senior year of highschool. The collar of a heather grey henley peeked out from under a deep red and green plaid flannel stretched over his shoulders as he leaned a little further under the hood, using a wrench to tighten what looked to be a lugnut to Peter from his spot by the door, too nervous to go further inside.

“I can wait,” Peter replied softly, trying not to stare at Tony’s jean-clad ass and anxious of the older boy man’s reaction. (It looked like Tony had done a lot of growing up over the past two years, no longer the boy he remembered. Peter supposed the same could be said about himself in a way, though he wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.)

And apparently he was right to be cautious.

Tony promptly smacked his head on the underside of the hood as he jerked upright at the sound of Peter’s voice. “Fuck.” Moving more carefully, Tony stood upright and turned around, his dark eyes wide. “Peter,” he said, visibly and audibly surprised. To be honest, it hurt Peter a little bit, how surprised he sounded. Maybe coming here was a mistake. Did they not do this nearly every year over the past seven? Had- Oh god, had something changed? Fuck, did Tony finally get tired of- Had he found-

Peter resolutely cut that train of thought off before he could panic. “Hi, Tony.” He swallowed drily, making eye contact for a moment, before casting his eyes away only for them to make their way back to the open face in front of him. “Think you have time for a quick bite to eat?” He slipped his left hand into the pocket of the new, warm wool coat he bought expressly for this trip. “It’s almost dinner time. And I have a treat,” he intoned, tapping his right pointer and middle fingers against his lips.

Tony beamed and immediately reached for a shop rag to wipe his hands, the black grease and oil smearing on the probably-used-to-be-white-at-some-point fabric. One of those hands came up to scratch at his facial hair, a new addition that made something simmer deep in Peter’s gut. The older man's brown eyes twinkled as he paused to glance at Peter. “You had me at ‘hi, Tony.’” He then proceeded to move about the shop, swiping his phone from atop a chest of metal drawers, Sinatra’s voice coming to an abrupt stop. He pulled on his old lined jean jacket (the one Peter was constantly mending in high school; now it just had small tears in some places, and what appeared to be Tony’s d-i-y patchwork in others). The sign on the front door was flipped to ‘closed’ and Tony pulled a keyring from his belt loop, locking it and flicking off the lights. The streetlights outside the building and the colorful holiday lights strung along the edge of the roof provided just enough light for them to be able to clearly see each other, the sun having set early, around four o’clock. Peter had forgotten about that as well.

He moved to grab his car keys from a pocket but Tony spoke up, patting the dark green paint of his truck’s hood and walking over to the garage door. His hand hovered over the button that would open it. “Actually, I just finished giving Delilah a tuneup, mind if we take ‘er for a spin?”

“Sure,” Peter agreed without hesitation, still feeling relieved (and grateful) that his invitation was accepted.

Tony pushed his palm against the button and paused to do a double-take after the metal door lifted completely. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Peter’s car parked in the small lot beside the shop. “Damn, L.A.. Not worried about your fancy new car?” His tone was slightly teasing, but there was a bit of shock mixed with something else as well, and it caused Peter to go hot, feeling insecure. (What if Tony didn’t like who Peter was, now? Peter didn’t exactly like who he was now.) Tony must’ve noticed his discomfort, because he cracked a grin and bumped his shoulder against Peter’s as he made his way to the driver’s side, yanking the door open. “C’mon, Parker, ‘m just fuckin’ with you. Hop in - how’da some burgers from Delmar’s an’ a trip out to the field sound?”

***

They grabbed food from the hole-in-the-wall diner down the road (the one where sixteen year-old Peter burned the shit out of his hand on his first day and promptly quit) and once they were bundled back in the truck with their burgers, fries and one banana milkshake (“yeah, but these are your favorite,” Tony had said in response to Peter’s exclamation that it was too cold out), Tony drove them out to the field behind the old high school. He parked the car under the lamppost, leaving it running in order to keep the heat on. His thick mechanic’s fingers began to fiddle with the temperature controls. Nat King Cole was playing quietly on the radio.

Peter shifted the paper bag of food in his lap, searching for words but not knowing what to say, and plucked the joint and lighter from his coat. The paper-covered filter found its way between his lips and he inhaled softly as he lit the tip. Satisfied with the light, he french inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. The first hit was always the best. Peter loved the way he could feel it all the way in his bones. He didn’t know how to describe it other than deep. When he opened them, he made eye contact with Tony in the dim light, and immediately cut his gaze away as he felt the heat rush to his face. He could feel when Tony looked away a moment later.

The lull continued and Peter gingerly held the joint between his fingertips as he exhaled, hand outstretched.

Worn fingers plucked it away, and Peter’s eyes were immediately drawn to the slightly chapped lips that wrapped themselves around the filter. “You stayin’ at um, at May's...old place?” Tony faltered as he inhaled, as if he wasn't sure what the most sensitive way to talk about it was.

“Yeah," Peter said softly as he looked down at his lap. Spending his first night in the house alone last night had made him feel the loneliest he'd ever been in his life, and that was saying something because he’d been feeling pretty miserable lately. Peter saw May everywhere he looked, waiting to hear her call for him to come taste some new-fangled recipe from the kitchen, or to please, for the hundredth time, rinse the dishes before he put them in the sink. He missed her more than he thought possible, her death earth-shattering after having already lost Ben when he was 17, back when this mess all started. When he left for the first time. When he started running away. “It’s- It’s weird but I’m...adjusting. It’s honestly not that different to when she was alive, though. Y’know- recently.” He cut himself off, not sure if he wanted Tony to know the full reality of his existence, now.

Because it was true. It killed Peter to admit it, but his relationship with Aunt May started going downhill around the time of Ben’s death, too. By the time she had her heart attack a little more than two years ago, he hadn’t seen her in over a year, or talked to her in nearly as long. It was the biggest regret of his life, pushing May away; the second was the way he essentially did the same thing to Tony, however drawn-out it had been.

Peter reached out for the joint and his fingers brushed against Tony’s, sending a jolt up his spine. “How,” Peter started, swallowing as he twiddled the lighter between his fingers not holding the joint. “How’ve you been, Tony?” He was scared to ask what he really wanted to know. Have you finally had enough? Did you stop waiting on me? Am I too late? To distract himself a bit, he cracked the window so he could ash the joint before taking another drag.

"Same ol’, same ol’,” came Tony’s reply, his voice weary. “I mean, you already know this, but nothin’ really changes here." The quiet way he said it was slightly self-deprecating and the younger man hated it, hated that he had something to do with it. (Peter remembered the way he spat the words at Tony in the wee hours of the morning oh so long ago. "I've gotta get out of this fucking town- I can’t stay here, Tony! You might be okay dying here, a nobody with nothing, but I'm not!")

That’s why I had to leave, he thought, chest tightening. I was trapped in this town. It was never you, Tony. You were perfect. You’re perfect.

"..Yeah," is what came out instead. Peter took another hit before he handed the joint back to Tony and began rifling through the grease-splotched bag, passing the older man his burger before unwrapping his own. He took the top bun off in order to lay down a handful of fries from the bag, smooshing the top back on afterwards. A moan left Peter’s mouth at the first bite, and he heard a chuckle bubble up from Tony’s chest. (He would never admit it, especially not to anyone back in L.A., anyone who didn’t know him before, but this was his favorite meal in the world.)

“Funny that you still do that. So, um,” Tony began again, stuffing a few fries in his mouth and chewing as he spoke out the side of his mouth. “I saw your new collection. It looked nice.” He licked a bit of salt off his thumb.

Peter’s ears burned as he swallowed his bite and raised an eyebrow at the man across from him. “You pay attention to fashion, now?” He fought off a smile at the thought of Tony delicately flipping through the pages of a high-fashion magazine.

“Not like- I’ve tried to keep up with your work,” Tony mumbled, swallowing, his own face taking on a bit of a rosy-hue. “Like to know what you're up to all the way out there.” The joint touched his lips for a few seconds before it made its way back to Peter’s fingers. “I do know how Google works.”

Peter shivered as he felt something flutter in the pit of his stomach at the salt grains that touched his tongue when he took his next pull. “Tastes like salt,” he breathed on the exhale, locking eyes with Tony through the smoke that had accumulated in the car.

Something flashed in the older man’s eyes as he stole the weed back and took a large hit, crooking his salt-sprinkled fingers to beckon Peter closer.

Peter’s own reddened eyes widened when he caught on to what Tony wanted, his heart picking up speed. They hadn’t done that in years. Still clutching his burger in his left hand, he used the right to support himself as he leaned over the console to press his mouth against Tony’s. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, fighting the urge to slip his tongue somewhere it didn’t belong. One of Tony’s hands came up to pull his head closer for a moment, his tongue having the same idea as Peter’s, causing him to whine into Tony’s mouth. His pants were getting tight as he licked right back in response, feeling a slight burn from exhaling through his nose. He missed this. Nobody kissed him like Tony did-

“Shit!” Tony pulled away sharply, and Peter’s heart stopped for a second. But when he realized what was happening, he couldn’t contain the surprised cackle that erupted as he saw the joint land in the other man’s lap. “Quit it,” was Tony’s reply, though he was grinning as he said it. He grabbed what was left of the joint off his jeans and stubbed it out the rest of the way on the dashboard. “It burned my fuckin’ finger.”

“Oh poor baby,” Peter shot back, shifting in his seat and taking another bite of his burger. He willed the slight chub to go away, but knew it was a lost cause. He pretty much signed up for it; he was always turned on when he was high around Tony (and most of the time when he was sober, too). Some kind of conditioning or something, he thought deliriously.

“Ya better hush up, Parker,” Tony snarked and dipped some fries into Peter’s banana shake. He rolled his neck a bit, reaching for his burger. “So, kid. Tell me ‘bout L.A..”

***

Peter was basking peacefully in his high, humming along to whatever was playing through the speakers. He and Tony had both finished their food, chatting about this and that, but nothing of real substance, their earlier stilted conversation far from their minds. Shooting the shit, as Tony called it, over some weed and a meal was their normal routine when they were younger, and it came as naturally as breathing. Peter had never met anyone else he could simply coexist with on this level, simply enjoying the other’s presence for what it was. I love you, he thought as he looked at Tony, who was leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed and nodding his head along with the beat. I’m so in love with you and it scares the shit out of me.

The younger man’s eyes roved over Tony’s face as his mind raced. What was he doing? Would something be different this time? He wasn’t that angry seventeen year old anymore- now he was twenty-four, clinically depressed, and living someone else’s life. Would it be so bad to finally leave that all behind, to finally let himself have what he’s denied himself for so long? Didn’t he deserve to be happy, after all this pain? And even if it wasn’t in the cards for them, if Peter was destined to be alone, wouldn’t even the most miniscule amount of time with Tony be worth it?

Tony’s gravelly voice startled him back to the present. “I should probably be gettin’ you home, huh, Peter?” The bearded man opened his eyes and began sitting up, turning to look at him. The expression on his face was unreadable, and Peter didn’t know if he should agree or protest, so he merely lifted a shoulder in faux indifference, shooting Tony a half-smile.

Please, call me Pete… Just Pete, Peter begged in his head. Tony calling him by his full name made the ugly thing in his chest wriggle uncomfortably. Last time he was home, before he said those awful things, Tony hadn’t called him Peter in years. Yet another beautiful thing that he’d taken for granted and ruined for himself.

“Could also drive around for a bit if you wanted, see some lights.” Damn Tony and his ability to read Peter so well. The suggestion was soft, and he looked down as he said it, almost as if he was feeling shy.

Peter shook his head minutely and shifted a little in his seat, gently biting his lip. “I’m getting a little tired, haven’t smoked in a while,” he lied through his teeth, but the smile on his face was real this time.

Tony grinned right back at him.

(“What would we even do on a date? There’s nothing to do here, Tony,” Peter said with a laugh. “I dunno,” Tony replied, snuggling the lighter-haired teenager closer into his chest as they snuggled on the couch. “We could go look at the Christmas lights, get some hot chocolate… I could tie some mistletoe to the mirror in the truck. There’d be sum kissin’ involved….” He trailed off as Peter’s lips found his own. “Or we could do the kissin’ right here,” he murmured, sinking into the kiss.)

***

The drive back to May’s house was spent with Tony catching Peter up on everyone in town as they passed various houses. (“Remember Happy Hogan, the butcher?? Him an’ that pretty florist, Ms. Potts, got married last year. Think they’re havin’ a baby,last I heard.” “Rhodey’s mama died this spring, she got cancer, but he an’ Mr. Rhodes still live out here now that Rhodey’s moved home. Honorable discharge last fall. Done got himself a new girlfriend now too, Carol; he met ‘er in the Air Force. She’s a sweet one, I think you’d like ‘er.”)

When they pulled into the driveway, Tony cut the engine and hopped out. Peter did the same, grabbing the bag with their trash and patting his pocket, double-checking for his keys and lighter. He stepped around Tony, who had stopped at the bottom of the front steps, and walked up to the door, fumbling for a minute with his keys under the porch light to find the right one (it had robin’s egg blue polka-dots of May’s favorite nail polish). Tony’s footsteps followed him up the stairs.

Peter stuck the key in the lock and opened the door a crack before turning to face the taller man. “So.”

Tony’s eyes searched his own as they gazed at one another. “So,” he parroted back. His index finger went up to rub at his nose as he took a hard sniff in. There was a beat of silence. “Thanks for the joint, and uh, the company. It was good seein’ you,” he said at last, a hint of his signature lopsided grin curving his lips.

Peter felt the goodbye that was coming before it even left Tony’s mouth, and something in him broke. “Don’t leave me here alone.” The words came out of Peter’s mouth in a mumble, and suddenly he couldn’t make eye contact with Tony, losing focus and staring at his own feet instead. He felt the harsh burning of tears as it hit him again just how alone he was about to be when he walked inside, how alone he already was. He was always so fucking alone.

Even in L.A., so much bigger than fucking Aurora, New York, surrounded by thousands of people, Peter still felt invisible, insignificant. He had no friends. Sure, he had a publicist, and connections, and celebrity acquaintances & clientele. But without his money and his clothes, what would he have? What did he have when he was just Peter Parker, rather than Peter Benjamin, semi-famous designer? Nothing. (When he got the call about May, and he’d broken down in the bathroom during a business meeting with representatives for Tom Ford, he realized he had no one to call. No one to comfort him or tell him it would be okay. He’d sobbed into his pillow that night, screaming his throat raw with Tony’s number punched into his phone, ready to be dialed. He never called.) He had nothing and no one, and it was all his fault because he was so stupid, and maybe this is just what he deserved. If he hadn’t pushed everyone-

“Hey- Hey, Peter, no. Never,” Tony was saying gently, cautiously pulling Peter into his strong arms and out of his anxiety attack. “‘m not goin’ anywhere if y’don’t want me to, baby.” He tucked Peter’s head under his chin, a chill running down his spine due to the chilly evening air. “S’okay, everythin’s okay.”

Peter sucked in a deep breath through his mouth, trying to calm himself. His forehead dug into Tony’s shoulder painfully but it helped to ground him. The soothing sensation of Tony’s fingers tracing circles on his back helped, too. Peter’s breath was still hitching every so often, so he shut his eyes and tried to synch his breathing with Tony’s. It felt so nice to just be this close to someone- Peter couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held. Tony had probably been the last one to do it, though. (He’d had sex in L.A. of course, but it was all superficial. Nothing real. Nothing like what he had with Tony- not even close.) Shifting slightly, he buried his nose in the crook of Tony’s neck, searching unconsciously for the smell he loved so much; a mix of gasoline, teakwood, and something smoky. The scent sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, and that hot feeling simmered in his stomach again. He’d always joked that he would bottle Tony’s smell if he could. Tony would just laugh and jokingly tease Peter for always having his nose in his neck or armpit.

Now Tony just hummed lightly in response, tightening his hold for a moment before relaxing. “‘Yer’okay,” he whispered, once he could feel that Peter’s breathing had evened out for the most part.

Peter pulled back a bit and stared at a spot in the middle of Tony’s chest, thinking. He decided to go for it. Worst that could happen was Tony saying no, and leaving Peter here alone, but he knew he’d end up alone eventually. But he’d delay the inevitable as long as he could. “Kiss me, T,” he said quietly, leaning in before he could change his mind. His lips brushed Tony’s and he pulled back, trying not to go cross eyed looking into the other’s eyes. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

Tony stared at him for a moment before their mouths met again, and Peter nipped gently at his lip before clumsily walking backwards through the cracked front door, pulling Tony with him with their mouths still connected. Tony’s foot kicked it closed behind them, bathing them in darkness, and he tripped a bit when Peter clutched at the lapels of his jacket a little too hard. Cursing under his breath, he leaned back against the door and tugged Peter along, using the support behind him to balance as he toed his boots off. They disconnected momentarily as the shorter man did the same, hands still gripping the denim.

Peter licked his lip as they stood in the dark entryway. Looking up at Tony, he shrugged his coat off, letting it fall to the hardwood floor beneath them. He reached out and gently pushed the denim jacket off the taller man’s shoulders too before leaning in, stopping just before their lips made contact. “Come upstairs with me,” he whispered.

Tony’s mocha eyes flitted around for a minute, searching his face for something. Peter couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw, but Tony kissed him again before taking his hand. “Your room,” he questioned, taking hold of the banister and leading Peter up the stairs.

***

“Fuck, Tony. Right there, right there, ohhhhh.” Peter was on his back with one leg thrown over Tony’s shoulder and the other bent off to the side, the ball of his foot pushing into the mattress. The mechanic’s uncut cock was stretching his lubed hole. Tony was leaning over him and one of his hands was clutching at Peter’s hip, the other at the leg up by his face. His facial hair scratched deliciously against the pale skin on the inside of Peter’s knee as he pressed a kiss there.

(Tony had kissed and licked and sucked praises into the skin of his neck, chest, stomach and thighs as he’d fingered him open at a torturously slow pace. “So good fer me, Pete. Look at you. You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Peter had whimpered and whined the whole time as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits whose pads were caressing his prostate.)

A moan left the older man’s lips as he looked into Peter’s eyes. “You feel so good, baby. Always feel so- fuckin’- good,” he grunted, thrusting further in the tight, wet heat. “Love fuckin’ your ass.” He dug his fingers tighter into Peter’s skin, sure to leave bruises.

Gasping, Peter arched his hips up, toes curling, cock bobbing against his stomach with every thrust. He could feel Tony deep inside him, in that place that only he had ever been able to reach. Fuck, why had he ever let this go? Never letting you go again, Tony. You can’t leave me alone. I need you. I love you. He whined, baring his neck in a silent plea and bringing his leg down so that both were wrapped around the man’s thick waist. Tony reacted accordingly; his hands moved up to clutch at Peter’s near the headboard and his mouth latched onto the column of Peter’s neck, sucking. A wounded noise escaped Peter, his hole clenching, and Tony bit down harshly at the sensation. Peter keened again, going limp on the mattress as his legs fell open to the side. “Shit, Tony, god!”

Hot, wet breath tickled Peter’s neck with every ragged exhale that left Tony’s mouth, causing the smaller to whine lewdly, squirming. “Yeah? Are you- mine? Y’gon be mine- huh, Pete?” Peter heard the unspoken question, the twinge of desperation in Tony’s voice. Will you finally be mine? He sounded tired, that deep-in-your-bones type weariness, Peter noticed as he felt his own chest start to get tight. He’d really done a number on the person who deserved it the least. And for what? To come crawling back years later, expecting to be forgiven?

Yes, he thought in response to Tony’s question, hating himself for it. One of his hands tangled itself in the crown of Tony’s head, fingers pulling the strands at the root possessively as teeth sunk into his neck again. Yours. Always yours. He let out another moan, rolling his hips in an attempt to get some friction on his neglected cock that was weeping precum as Tony continued to thrust in and out of him. “Please, please- Tony, please.” If Peter had any shame left, he’d probably be blushing at how needy and wrecked he sounded. Instead it just turned him on, knowing just how gone he was for the other man.

With a grunt, Tony redistributed his weight and brought two fingers to Peter’s lips. “Open up fer a minute, baby,” he requested softly, slipping the digits inside. Peter laved them with his tongue, coating them with thick saliva and Tony groaned at the feeling, dick twitching in Peter’s ass. Once they were sufficiently wet, he pulled his fingers away, a thin string of drool stretching to connect them to Peter’s slick lips. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, Pete, Christ.” His calloused hand wrapped loosely around the hot, rosy cock between them. “Fuck my hand, baby.”

Peter complied without hesitation, rocking his hips and pressing his shaft in and out of the slick tunnel that was Tony’s hand. He cried out when Tony’s thumb caressed the underside of the head as the cock inside of him nailed directly into his prostate. The pressure had already been a lot, but the pleasure was suddenly overwhelming in a new way. He was so close and Tony hadn’t even been touching him for thirty seconds. “F-fuck, Tony, I’m gonna- Ahhhhh-”

“Yeah, cum for me, Pete,” Tony’s warm breath heaved into his ear, tongue sneaking out to lick the outer shell and dip inside briefly at the same time he tightened his grip on Peter’s sensitive member. “Fuck, cum for me, baby, cum on my- Cum on my cock- God-.”

And with a cry, Peter did just that, biting into Tony’s shoulder as the tension in his gut snapped, hole twitch relentlessly around the hard cock inside him as his own shot spurt after spurt of hot cum on his chest; some reached the hollow of his throat and his chin. “God, Tony, shit, shit, shit.”

“Yesssss, Pete, holy fuck.” Tony buried himself inside one last time, his mouth latching onto the column of Peter’s neck as he reached his orgasm, shoving himself inside as deep as possible. His dick twitched, painting Peter’s insides with his spend and making him groan.

They stayed that way for a moment before Tony pulled back to look into Peter’s eyes. “Lemme clean’ya up,” he offered gently as he carefully pulled his softening cock out of the heat of the younger man’s ass. There was a slight burbling sound, and he brushed his lips against Peter’s when he saw the embarrassment flash across his face. “Hol’ on.” Climbing out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom that was adjoined to Peter’s room.

Peter’s heart was beating uncomfortably in his chest as he lay among the sheets, bringing his hands up to his chest to fiddle with each other anxiously. It couldn’t be over. He wasn’t ready for it to be over. He wasn’t ready to be alone again.

When Tony walked back in, he got back on the bed, gently wiping the cum off Peter’s chest with a warm rag, smirking at the full-body shivers that ran through the young man in response to the cloth being swiped lightly over his nipples. Once his chest was clean, Tony moved down to run the fabric between Peter’s ass cheeks, collecting the milky-white substance that was leaking out of the hole.

“Stay,” Peter whispered, once Tony had thrown the washcloth in the hamper and climbed back into bed at Peter’s invitation of patting the spot beside himself in bed. He wiggled so that his back was pressed up against Tony’s front. His fingers tangled themselves with those on a slightly larger hand and as he let his eyes slip shut, he felt Tony’s lips press a kiss into the sweaty curls at the back of his head.

***

When Peter woke up, it was well past noon. The bed was so warm that the heat from his and Tony’s bodies trapped up under the fluffy comforter would be sweltering if he didn’t crave it so much.

Peter swallowed drily as he looked at Tony’s face in the afternoon light, peaceful in sleep. At some point during their sleep, they had shifted to where they were facing each other. He wanted to trace his fingers along the strong facial features in front of him, but he refrained, not wanting to wake the older man. He knew he needed to talk to Tony. He knew that Tony deserved better. But maybe Peter could be selfish just this once... It was Christmas after all. Tis the damn season and all that.

Leaning forward, with a hand pressed gently against Tony’s chest, Peter pecked his lips against the sleeping man’s in a kiss. He got no response, so he did it again, adding a little more pressure. Tony began to stir; his arm wrapped lazily around Peter’s naked waist, pulling their bottom halves together.

“G’mornin’,” Tony mumbled sleepily as he blinked a few times before his gaze focused on Peter. His voice was scratchy and rough, and Peter’s hips jerked slightly in response as he whispered back his own greeting, partially because Tony had begun to get hard. The mechanic brought up a hand and took hold of Peter’s chin, pulling their mouths together as he ground their burgeoning erections together.

Peter wrapped a leg around Tony’s waist as they lay there on their sides and began to gently rock his hips. “Tony,” he mewled, eyes screwed shut. The words were bubbling up inside him, just like the arousal was blooming in his gut. One of his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck, pulling their bodies together as close as they could get.

“Yeah,” came Tony’s breathy reply. His eyes were roving over Peter’s flushed face as he undulated his own hips, thumb coming up to press against the younger’s spit-slick bottom lip. “Whadisit?”

Peter took the digit into his mouth for a moment and they made eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip, fellating it. He released it from his mouth with a pop, biting his own lip. “Am I too late,” he asked quietly, burying his face in the muscled chest before him, pecking tender kisses on the heated flesh. “Do you still love me?” His voice shook as he continued, breath faltering as well as the sensations built up. He squeezed his eyes shut even though Tony couldn’t see the tears building in his eyes as he chased his pleasure, preparing for the inevitable pain that was sure to follow.

“Pete.” The way Tony said his name was reverent, like he didn’t see Peter for the walking mistake that he was. He was breathing heavier now, too, with the exertion of frotting their hard cocks together. “How could I ever stop, baby?” He craned his neck in order to meet Peter’s eyes. “Was just waitin’ on ya t’come home.” He pressed their lips together as Peter’s leg tightened around his waist. “Was always just waitin’ on ya t’come home,” he repeated. A particularly hard thrust had them both groaning, clutching desperately at each other as they chased that euphoric feeling. “’Course I love you, Peter. Now cum for me.”

Peter couldn’t help but obey as a sob burst from his lips, Tony following him over the edge. “I love you,” he cried, as their bodies shook together. “I’m s-sorry Tony, I love you- Don’t go, don’t ever leave me. I won’t- I promise I won’t go again. I can’t go again, I can’t leave you again. I won’t.” Tony’s thumbs came up to wipe the tears from under his eyes, and a kiss was pressed to his temple as he felt himself be pulled into those strong arms.

“I’d never leave you, Pete.”

***

The bed was cold when Peter woke again. He lay there, watching the sunset through his bedroom window. Gentle creaks could be heard as the house groaned under pressure from the falling snow. He rolled over, grimacing at the pain in his lower half and pulling a pillow to his chest. It still smelled of teakwood, smoke, and gasoline. He smiled, burying his face further into the intoxicating scent. “I love you,” he whispered to the empty house, feeling lighter than he had in years.

(Yes, the bed was cold, now. But Tony would be back to warm it up. And he’d have burgers, fries, and a banana milkshake when he returned. Maybe even a joint. Peter was glad he didn’t have to wait long. They’d had just about enough of that over the past seven years.)

#starker #hey it might be a week later than i intended to finish but at least it's out by christmas #bloo writes bad things (tm)#enjoy!

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