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explosionshark · 3 years

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how to live here!

here's a special deleted scene that was supposed to go in one of the chapters after rachel and chloe start fighting, but i never really found a place where it made sense. but i always liked it too much to delete it.

The first time Chloe had talked about hanging out in a junkyard, Max had kind of assumed she’d been joking.

She’s been here a few times already since her return to Arcadia Bay, but the novelty of it still hasn’t worn off. Chloe doesn’t seem to mind, letting her wander off, camera in hand, to explore and take photos by herself until she’s halfway through a roll of film and finally satisfied.

Max lets the sound of breaking glass lead her back to Chloe and snaps one more picture. Chloe, broken off hockey stick poised at the highest arc of a big swing, aimed at the sun-bleached head of a mannequin perched atop a splintered milk crate like a fucked up golf ball on a tee.

The arc of the swing is completed. The head goes flying with a sharp crack, landing in a pile of scrap a few feet away. Chloe holds the stick up over her head and cheers.

“You get that, Max?” she calls over her shoulder. “One for the highlight reel.”

“Got it,” Max confirms, reaching up to withdraw the Polaroid as it’s ejected from the camera. She closes the distance between them to show Chloe the shot.

“Sick,” Chloe says, and then twirls the stick in her fingers. “Y’know, I never used to allow press in here before, but maybe that was a mistake. A few more like that and maybe I can finally catch some attention from the big leagues.”

“I can’t imagine they can ignore skills like yours for very long,” Max grins, leaning up on her tiptoes and craning her neck to try to spot the mannequin head in the garbage.

Chloe grins again and mimes another swing. “Wanna take a shot? Ride out my hot streak?”

“I’m good,” Max says.

Chloe nods and shrugs and swings again abruptly, for real, putting the end of the hockey stick through the screen of a boxy old TV on the ground suddenly and loudly enough to make Max jump.

“You sure?” She props a boot on the corner of the TV to hold it in place as she yanks the stick loose. “It’s hella cathartic. You’ve always struck me as having more rage than you’re willing to own up to.”

“Do I really?” Max asks, a little alarmed.

“Maybe I’m projecting,” Chloe concedes.

They wander further, Max trailing behind as Chloe beats the ever-loving shit out of anything even vaguely breakable in her path.

“Remember when you actually played?” Max asks, after the fifteenth minute of uninterrupted smashing.

Chloe pauses, turning on her heel and drawing the bandage on her arm across her forehead to wipe away a bead of sweat. “Oh hell yeah. They called me The Destroyer.”

“No they didn’t,” Max rolls her eyes. “Only you called yourself that.”

“Me and both our dads,” Chloe points out. “Yours even made a sign.”

“Oh yeah,” Max laughs. “Y’know, I think you were the hockey hooligan kid he always wanted. I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved when I quit the team.”

Her dad was a huge hockey fan and had been elated when she and Chloe had agreed when he showed them the newspaper ad he’d found seeking players for the local youth hockey team. William and their mothers had been a little more hesitant, Max remembered, but no one enough to really object to their joining.

Chloe took to it immediately, aggressive, competitive, and already more naturally athletic than Max had ever been. Max’s tenure was only a week long, but she’d remained a devoted fan of the team long after, going along with her parents to every game, home and away.

“Relieved, I think,” Chloe speculates. “You were a really small twelve year old.”

“I was appropriately sized for twelve,” Max protests. “You were tall.”

“Pint-sized,” Chloe teases. “Microscopic. Besides, you never had the heart for it. The bloodlust.”

“I liked the skating part. But yeah, you always had more fun with it than me. Did you ever get back to sports?”

Chloe shakes her head, quick and jerky, almost offended. “I never liked sports. I liked hockey ‘cause you guys would always come to my games and stuff. But then…after…”

Chloe missed the first couple weeks of practice, after William had died. It was Max’s dad that got her to go back, at Joyce’s insistence, hoping that the sport could be an outlet, that trying to preserve as much normalcy as possible would help Chloe deal with her grief.

Max and her dad had stayed in the bleachers through that first practice without William. Chloe’s play had been sloppier, and she’d left the ice early, face splotchy and red, thick hot tears running down her face into her jersey. It hadn’t gotten easier from there. It made sense that Chloe had stopped going entirely once Max’s family had moved.

“Anyway, can you even imagine me playing for Blackwell?” Chloe scoffs, brings the hockey stick down on the windshield of an old beat up car. The first blow sends a spiderweb of cracks all through the glass. The second penetrates, a small, fist-sized hole. The third, fourth, and fifth obliterate it completely.

Max closes her eyes, chases the images of a young, grief-stricken Chloe from her mind with this new fantasy. Chloe, hair undyed, strutting through the halls in a red and white letterman jacket. Chloe doing keg stands with Logan and Zach. Chloe with girls like Victoria and Juliet hanging off her arms. Chloe completely and totally ignoring a nerd like her.

“Okay, it’s a little weird,” Max admits, feeling a little embarrassed for the irrational churning in her gut. “You’ve never really been a joiner, huh?”

“Organized sports are so not punk rock,” Chloe says obnoxiously.

“It’s kind of hard to imagine you at Blackwell at all,” Max admits. “I wish I’d come back sooner. Y’know, before you left.”

Chloe’s quiet and Max knew it was a risk to go there at all, but it feels too true to keep to herself so she keeps speaking.

“I didn’t choose to be gone, but,” is it brave or stupid to do this now, actually? Has Chloe been waiting for an apology or will this just make things needlessly awkward and uncomfortable and painful? “I mean I wish I’d handled it differently. That we’d talked more while I’d been away.”

“Yeah,” Chloe shrugs. It feels like Max is on the verge of losing her, so she hurries on before the silence between them stretches too far.

“Can I be honest with you?” Max asks, stomach twisting in knots.

Chloe raises an eyebrow and nods for her to continue.

“I kind of thought,” she pauses and winces. “I mean, I was a little afraid that after I left you just. Wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That you’d replace me.”

“Max, what the fuck?” Chloe lets the words out in a harsh exhale and Max knows that tone of voice. Knows she’s pissed off for real, now.

“I know,” Max cringes, scrubbing a hand down her face. “But, I mean, you were always the cool one, right? And you were going into high school and I was still sleeping with a teddy bear and—”

“This is such bullshit,” Chloe’s voice cracks and Max was not expecting that. “You’re not just— You can’t just replace a best friend! I fucking needed you. I was so… I needed you so much and you hung me out to dry because you were scared I’d stop thinking you were cool?”

“No,” Max hurries to clarify, feeling appropriately breathless for the desperate, drowning sensation overwhelming her. “No, not like that. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. So, I just kept putting it off, y’know? Like with homework. Remember how many times my mom had to bail me out because I’d wait too long on finishing a project and it wouldn’t be ready by the due date? Only no one could bail me out this time. And the longer I waited, the worse I felt, the more sure I was that you hated me, that you’d scream at me and tell me to stay out of your life. And I was too scared to face that so I…”

“I never hated you,” Chloe says, face caught somewhere between fury and despair. “Fuck, for the longest time all I wanted was to leave here, to be where you were instead.”

“The night you called me,” Max cuts in gently, proud at least when her voice doesn’t shake, “when you tried to run away, I was so scared for you. And I felt guilty because I realized I was wrong, that you still wanted to be my friend, and I knew I didn’t deserve it. I cried myself sick on the ride down with my mom to pick you up. It really freaked her out. But when we got there you just hugged me and you let me hold your hand the entire way back to Arcadia Bay.”

Chloe stays silent, chewing her lip hard enough to make Max wince.

“And even after, even though we were talking again the entire time I was away I’d think about being back here instead. I think about all the years I missed with you and I get mad because it feels kind of like my fault. Like if I’d tried harder it wouldn’t have taken this long. But I can’t fix that now, I know, I’m just glad we’re here now.”

Chloe shakes her head, rough, and throws the beat up hockey stick into a pile behind her. “Max, you fucking—”

She cuts herself and stomps over and Max isn’t sure what she was expecting, but she’s definitely surprised when Chloe wraps her arms around her, drags her close until there’s almost no space between them.

As tight as the hug is, Chloe’s hands hovering over her back are gentle. She’s quiet but her breathing’s rough. It takes a long time for her to speak again; when she does her voice is shaky, quiet. “I never, ever hated you, but I was pissed at you for a really long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Max tries to say but Chloe squeezes her tighter until she falls quiet.

“I got tired of it,” Chloe says. “And it wasn’t fair, either. Not really. We were just kids. God, I fucked so many things up so much worse than that. You don’t know how bad. If you did, you’d think I’m so pathetic. You’d hate it.”

“Chloe Price, you’re so many things, but pathetic has never been one of them,” Max insists, a little startled by the steel in her voice. Chloe tenses in her arms, but doesn’t move away so Max continues, gentler, “I wish I’d been here more. I know you weren’t alone the whole time but still, if I could go back and change anything it’d be trying harder to be a bigger part of your life. It’d be not letting it take so long to get here.”

It’s stupid, she knows, it’s ridiculous to think she could have prevented any of the hard knocks Chloe had taken in her absence but the thing is she’ll never know and Max thinks that she’ll probably always feel responsible somehow.

“God, imagine if we’d had a few years together at Black-Hell,” Chloe says and releases her, finally. She stays close, pushes some hair out of Max’s face. “We would have gotten into so much trouble. Me, you and…” She trails off with a wince but doesn’t linger. “You could have cheated off my science papers. I’d trade you rides around the Bay for homework.”

“Hey,” Max laughs. “Presumptuous. How do you know I would have compromised my morals like that?”

“Oh, you would have,” Chloe says, laugh all low and breathy. “When have you ever been able to say no to these baby blues?”

She bats her lashes facetiously, but the blush staining Max’s face is very real. “Okay, whatever. What else would we have done?”

“Oh, pranks,” Chloe says. “No doubt. We would have pranked it up so hard on those nerds. I always had this idea about semi-permanent hair dye and Victoria’s shampoo bottles, but I never lived in the dorms. And for some reason, Rachel refuses to be my inside man on this one.”

“I’d be down,” Max blurts out, not sure what the sudden pained look on Chloe’s face could have been leading to, but desperate to head it off.

“Wait, for real?” Chloe asks, appropriately distracted and Max realizes suddenly that her hypothetical assent to collusion had just been offered in practice.

“Uh, I mean—”

“No take-backs,” Chloe crows, gleefully. “Holy shit, dude, yes. Okay, I’ve got it worked out pretty well, this is something I’ve been sitting on for a few years at least. First, we’ll need a distraction…”

Chloe’s plan is elaborate, but thorough, and by the time she’s done laying out the details Max isn’t sure she’ll be able to follow through, but she does know that whatever lingering doubts about their friendship she’d had this morning were founded in one-sided insecurity.

“Let me sleep on it,” she says, finally.

“Max,” Chloe whines. “You promised.”

“I did not.”

“I mean, practically.”

“No, I didn’t.”

It’s almost like being a kid again, arguing about something pointless under the midday sun, a little dehydrated but having too much fun together to do something sensible like go back inside. Max has missed this for so long.

She’s deliriously happy she won’t ever have to miss it again.

#life is strange #pricefield #how to live here #ask games #explosionfic

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sourbat · 3 years

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Here’s a little ficlet I wrote today. Please give it a little glance, and let me know what you think :)

Summary: Nathan listens in on an intimate conversation and becomes increasingly jealous over it.

Pair: Magnus/Toki

Toki’s never been one to leave his door closed for long. Nathan is used to passing by the small room, sometimes at the earliest hours of the morning, and finds the door agape, lighting aglow and showing off the interworking of Toki’s short, erratic attention span. He’s seen Toki hunched at his desk, indulged in the time-consuming process of building model planes, and he’s seen Toki rolling all over the floor, tossing his controller and screaming at the television screen. There is Toki coloring, tossing his crayons against the wall and complaining about the mess he made with his stuffed animals. Front row seats to Toki rocking. Toki dissecting his actions figures. Toki purposefully breaking his things. There are nights where Toki frantically rearranges his room, and times where Nathan approaches the stretched light and hears the young man muttering, but often pitifully whining, in another language. There are cold, silent nights where the door is closed, and Nathan can still pick up the sounds of whimpers and stifled cries. There are instances where Nathan knocks, fewer where he enters and talks to the guy. Sometimes Nathan cleans. Picks up robots with missing legs, or ones that contain screws where they shouldn’t be. Most of the time, Nathan continues onward, leaving Toki to his devices.

It’s nearing one in the morning when Nathan’s throat tires, and concludes another successful night recording lines with Pickles. After they split, Nathan enters the familiar hallway that eventually leads to his room, and on his way, finds the long, dim light emitting from Toki’s bedroom. Like before, he thinks little of the dimly lit room, but notices a gentle sound emitting from it as he approaches.

Kid is sleep at the desk, he thinks when he catches something muffled, something that sounds like slow breathing. The thought to turn off the lamplight and let Toki sleep uninterrupted arises, and Nathan considers it as he reaches the room, figuring if the floor isn’t covered with too much crap, he’ll give Toki a break this time. His pace slows as he heads for the door, footsteps adjusting and soles rolling to muffle his sounds, and when he gets close, Nathan picks up on a conversation.

“…milks and apples?”

Toki’s talking. He’s whispering to someone. A conversation centered on food.

Nathan readies his hand, already thinking to tell Toki it’s getting late, too late for a midnight snack, but a raspy chuckle stops him.

“Hold up, dude. We got one paragraph left.”

It’s Magnus’ voice.

Nathan’s chest tightens, muscles instinctively bracing for an incoming attack that won’t happen. Magnus isn’t here, not really, but his mere presence taking the form of some voice over the phone is enough to make Nathan’s bottom jaw ache from the subconscious grind.

Nathan withdraws from the door, furthers himself away until he can barely register the conversation taking place. No, not a conversation. He picks up on Magnus’ voice, the solidity and clarity as he carefully pronounces each word. It’s a recital. It’s him narrating. It’s Magnus telling Toki the story of a bunch of dumb animals trying to run a farm, and in all likelihood, it’s also Magnus trying to induct Toki in his bullshit philosophy.

It’s a few sentences of Magnus gently concluding a chapter to a fatigued Toki, and by the time Nathan remembers the finer details, the windmill and Magnus ranting about how their country will end up in the same sad state as the farm, it’s over. There’s silence, the sounds of Toki shifting in his bed, and Nathan draws closer.

“Alright, we’re done with chapter 3. What do you think?”

A pause. Nathan worries Toki will confess to a lack of understanding, but then he suddenly speaks up. “Don’t thinks it ams fair the pigs gets all the apples.”

Another chuckle. “Well, I don’t think it’s fair either.”

A blanket kicks up. Something folds. The mattress groans. “I thinks all the animals should be sharins,” he hears Toki say into the phone.

“I feel the same way, Toke.”

“Why didn’ts them pigs share, Magnus?”

A simple, but foolish question, Nathan thinks. It suggests more than a lack of understanding, but gives away that Toki doesn’t comprehend the deeper layers, and that this is just a story about talking animals for him. Nathan’s bottom lip curls inward as he relives a memory of Magnus lying on top of the sofa, pages held open with thumb and pinky. Magnus tells him of a dystopian future where everyone’s at the bottom, where there are worker bees and handful of queens at the very top. Metaphor after metaphor, and Magnus peeling off his jacket because he’s so excited, tongue tripping at the increasing velocity of his words.

Nathan remembers, and admired that side of Magnus. Magnus, who always had something to say, who unleashed a crashing wave of information that, although incomprehensible to Nathan, sounded good. The man had passion, to say the least. Only problem was him constantly trying to insert it, to force it into Nathan’s head, his thoughts and his message. Cram. Shove. Jam. Hammer it all in, and when none of it stuck, and Nathan never applied, Manus got mad. Grew cold, distant and resentful.

Poor Toki, Nathan thinks, and awaits Magnus’ vengeful attack on the kid’s lack of intelligence.

“Well... why do you think the pigs won’t share?”

The question takes Nathan by surprise. He almost second guesses, thinks maybe it was Toki who asked, but then hears Toki hum aloud and guess it’s because the pigs want to keep the good tasting food for themselves, which is why they lied in the first place. Nathan hears another chuckle, this one louder, and approving.

“So, you know they’re lying?”

There’s a giggle from Toki. “Ams not a very good excuse,” he says. Magnus agrees, tells Toki he’s on to something, and the compliment earns stupid little noise from Toki. “I wonder if them animals will change their minds abouts them pigs…”

“You’ll have to wait later, man.”

“Oh, why nots now?”

“My break ends in about five,” Magnus replies. Nathan hears the disappointing sigh emitting from Toki. He hates to hear it. He hates knowing the rise it gives Magnus knowing Toki wants him to continue reading. The silence in the air hangs low, affecting everyone. “We’ll talk more about apples and the farm later, when you’re awake, alright?”

“Oh, okays.” More blankets shift as Toki nears the phone. Or maybe he’s holding on to the phone. Nathan has his back to the wall, eyes looking away from the light, from the intimate scene he never should’ve listened in on. “I likes the story so far. Even though them pigs ams kinda fishy, the horses and other animals ams nice.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Strange to hear his voice so soft, so gentle and accepting of another man’s limitations. Even weirder to hear Magnus compliment the horse. Last he remembered, Magnus hated the horse. Nathan grimaces at yet another memory that dared to rise from his personal, repressed storage. He crushes it before it can take form, but Nathans still wonders where the hell was this version of Magnus 17 years ago?

“Well, time’s almost up.”

“Thanks you for readins to me,” Toki chirps. Magnus tells the kid no problem, and Nathan silently gags at the sound Toki makes. A loud, audible smack. He’s kissing the damn phone. Really, Toki? “G’night, Magnus.”

“Sweet dreams, Toki.”

Nathan stares out, mind dwelling on the conversation. Where’s the damn cross comparison, the conspiracy and literary theories, and that long rave about how ignorant Toki was for not considering the “bigger picture?” Why wasn’t Magnus mad at Toki for asking such a dumb question? Why was it that he got yelled at for not understanding Magnus, for crushing his vision, for not appreciating his contribution and message, but Toki gets to be read to, gets to ask stupid questions and earns warm appraisals for coming up with half-assed responses? Where is the fairness in that?

Nathan blinks, and realizes it’s silent. The air is still and lacking the warm glow from before, and the stone wall pressed against his back emits its solid, unforgiving chill. The light in Toki’s room is off, and was likely turned off the moment the call ended, and now it’s just him, standing alone in the dark, obsessed over the memory of a man who no longer existed.

Nathan hangs his head low. No fair. I at least knew it wasn’t about animals.

#magnus hammersmith #toki wartooth #nathan explosion #magtok #hammertooth #implied magnate???#metalocalypse #fanfic #needs editing

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avatoh · 3 years

Text

I Like You a Latte: Chapter 2

Psych Shassie Coffee Shop AU!

Chapter 2:

(Whole Story On AO3)

“O’Hara, no. Now drop it,” Lassiter said, straightening his tie and sitting down at his desk. “Not going to happen, not in a million years.”

Juliet smiled in the way that Lassiter hated, the way that said she thought she knew something he didn’t. “All I’m saying is, you made a bet and now you have to pay up. You gave your word. It’s actually pretty unlike you, not following through on something.”

Lassiter looked away, down at his desk, anywhere to keep her from seeing that blush that was rising on his cheeks at the thought of going back and facing that snarky little barista with the devilish little smile and the perfect hair, and- no. There was no way he was going back there to make good on a promise that he didn’t even really mean. It was a joke, after all.

Besides, the fact that he got the culprit right was a complete fluke, a guess, and it had nothing to do with whatever that idiot was calling a ‘psychic’ ability.

“I didn’t give my word,” he grumbled. “Anyway, I doubt he even remembers. That guy looked like he was on speed. I should have him drug tested, actually.”

“Oh, Carlton…” She rolled her eyes. “You should really be nicer to people. You’re too...”

“Suspicious? Paranoid? Tell me something I haven’t heard, O’Hara. I’m a detective. Maybe you shouldn’t be so trusting of everyone you meet.” It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, anyway, Lassiter sure found that out the hard way. He pulled a file off the stack on his desk and slammed it down in front of him. He had work to do.

. . .

Back at the Blueberry Beanery, Shawn was just finishing his shift for the day.

“Were you nice to the customers today, Shawn?” asked Gus, his best friend and the owner of the place.

“Exceptionally. I even made a new friend.”

“When you say friend I hope you don’t mean…” Gus trailed off.

Shawn just grinned.

“Please tell me you didn’t charm another customer into a date, Shawn. It’s bad for business.”

“Come on, son. You know I only do that when I know they’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, but then they go on the date with you or you guys hook up and then I lose customers in the aftermath because for some reason I’ve never known you to go past a 1st date with someone.”

“There was that one person in Alaska when I was traveling.”

“Or so you say. And that was only because you were living at his house rent free.”

“Well not rent free, I worked hard for the room and board.”

Gus rolled his eyes. “Can you please cut it out? I’ve already lost two regulars since you started working here.”

“But I’ve gotten you way more regulars than that. I can whip out the charm when I need to.”

“True,” Gus pondered. “Anyway, no more dating customers, Shawn; even if you did make a new friend today. No more.”

“Gotcha,” he said with almost zero conviction. If that detective cop guy came back, he’d certainly see if he could work his patented Shawn magic with him.

. . .

Lassiter stood at the door to the Blueberry Beanery with a new case file in hand and a belly full of dread.

So what if he was craving one of those delicious sugar filled abominations? He wasn’t made of steel. Or without taste buds, for that matter.

Though the prospect of facing that mouthy Barista again wasn’t helping his decision too much. Sure, he’d promised to come back. And sure, no matter how much he could bullshit to O’Hara (who saw right through him) he was a man of his word. So yes, he was going to go inside.

But he wished he wasn’t.

It only took two seconds after walking in the door before someone was screaming his name.

“LASSSIE!” Great, Shawn. “There he is! I knew you’d be back!”

Lassiter scanned the café quickly to find more than a few stares pointed in his direction. He felt his skin crawl.

“Only because I said I would be,” Lassiter replied. He walked up to the counter with his files tucked under his arm, and Shawn's smile grew bigger with each step, finally settling into a full-on teeth-everywhere grin.

“You don’t have to make up excuses, Lassie. I knew you missed me.” He winked. “What’ll you have today? Wait- don’t tell me. How about a surprise, huh? Something special to celebrate you closing your case.”

“How did you,” Lassiter said. “Wait. Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”

“P-s-y-c-h-i-c,” Shawn mouthed in a drawn out fashion as he twirled a pen around in his fingers and looked Lassiter dead in the eye. Lassiter fumed.

“Just make the coffee,” he grumbled.

“You got it, grumpy pants.”

Lassiter sat down as far away as he possibly could from Shawn but unfortunately it was a rather small café. He pulled out the case file and began to read through it. There weren’t really many pressing unsolved cases since the double murder. In fact, he was pretty sure he knew who committed this crime, but it was so fresh he still had to wait for the autopsy. It was an open and shut case.

Within a few minutes of looking, Shawn called out “Lassie!” at the top of his lungs, similar to the last time. Lassiter got up with a resolved sigh and grabbed the drink which tasted slightly different but even better.

“I adjusted the ratios a bit. Usually I’m spot on, but the fact that you wouldn’t admit to liking it means I was a bit off on the preparation so let me know if you like this one better, okay?”

Lassiter grunted as he sat back down to look over the case. Yup. It looked like this one was open and shut, so he sipped at his coffee while he began checking his phone for the day.

The shop actually was a pleasant place to be. The only slightly annoying thing about it was the barista who was pretty chatty with everyone who came in. At least he knew how to keep his voice down with the other guests because Lassiter couldn’t quite make out what Shawn was saying.

Having checked his email, his messages, and solved the case, Lassiter sat in silence as his drink dwindled down. He was enjoying the uninterrupted silence, but perhaps too much. You know why they say about silence— it lulls you just enough not to notice the predator that’s about to pounce.

“So, do you think it was the gardener?”

Lassiter jumped in his skin, ripped from his thoughts, as Shawn leaned over the back of the booth, face far too close to his own. Far, far too close because he could faintly smell the fruity scent of his conditioner and the sweet coffee on his breath.

“Back up, would you?” Lassiter said. “And stop looking at my files.” He swept the papers and photos together into a neater pile to ward off Shawn’s prying eyes. “This is official SPBD information. I could hold you in contempt of the law for willfully reading classified documents.”

Shawn snorted, then leaned closer. “Or how about I hold you in contempt for failure to handle classified information? I don’t know about anyone else in here, but I sure got an eye full of those bad boys before you so meanly put them away. If you ask me, that seems pretty mishandled.”

Lassiter frowned. He’d had enough of Shawn’s snippy comments and half-baked knowledge of the law. “How about you shut your mouth and get me another one of these instead of concerning yourself with how I handle my work?” He rudely slid the empty mug to the end of the table and turned to the side where Shawn is still leaned over, way too close, and raised an eyebrow.

Shawn didn’t seem affected. He never did. “Maybe I should be more concerned with how you could handle me,” he whispered.

This time, it was even worse than the shouting because it was so low and breathy that it sent a shiver down his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up, too. Sweet Lady Justice.

“I—” he stuttered. He hated the way it came out of his mouth, so unlike his usually confident demeanor.

Shawn smirked and stood back up, practically bounced over to the end of the table, and picked up his mug before running off. “ANOTHER LASSIE SPECIAL!”

Shawn immediately started making the drink himself as he was the only one working. Lassiter had only been in the little café twice and all he had seen so far was Shawn there; he was beginning to wonder if there were any other employees who worked and when he might come in so he could meet them.

Shawn headed over to Lassiter and gave him his drink. “That’ll be $4.50.”

“On second thought, I think I want my fifty cents back,” Lassiter said plainly from across the shop as Shawn slid the change into the tip jar. It seemed like Shawn’s yelling from across the building was rubbing off on him.

Lassiter handed over a $5 bill and told the annoyingly gorgeous man to keep the change.

“Wowee. Fifty whole cents for solving the case of the year and possibly a second one. Thank you, kind Sir.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Shawn quickly backpedaled.

“I’m giving you business and keeping my word, isn’t that enough. Besides, I didn't ask you to ‘help’ with the second one.”

“Trueee.”

“What’s the deal with this place anyway,” Lassiter asked.

“What do you mean?”

“How did you get stuck working here and how do you get off talking to paying customers like this? I bet you get complaints.”

“Well, I don’t talk to everyone like this, and I’d like you to know it’s been one whole month since I’ve gotten a complaint. You should feel honored, Lassie.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? You’ll complain about me. Remember when I solved that case for you? I’d say I'm going above and beyond the call of duty for this job here. I ought to be promoted.”

“More like fired,” he muttered under his breath. “Make this to go, actually.”

“You got it, Lass-” he stopped, then grinned. “-ieeeeee.”

“I don’t know how anyone stands you.” Lassiter grabbed the paper cup and his belongings then headed straight for his crown vic.

. . .

Lassiter entered the bullpen amongst the chatter of offices and ringing phones, before settling down at his desk and tossing the file into the completed bin. At most, he would have a day or two of petty crimes before another high profile case made its way to his desk, but he didn’t want to wait that long.

Ever eager for a new mystery to solve, he knocked on Chief Vic’s office ready to shake her down for something big.

“Enough, Lassiter,” she said, looking exasperated. “Just take it easy for a day or two, you of all people have earned it.”

“With all due respect, Chief, I didn’t become Santa Barbara’s youngest head detective by ‘taking it easy’. Are there any homicides? High profile robberies? Gang related violence? Come on, Chief.”

“Lassiter,” she said, her voice severe. “Do not come into my office asking me this again. I want you on the Farbaros case and that is the end of that.”

“Chief—”

“Out, detective.”

. . .

Lassiter tried not to slam the door on his way out, but he was never good at controlling his anger. Jules even saw it rolling off of him, judging by the way she scooted away and refused to look at him the moment he got to his desk.

“What have you got on the Farbaros case, O’Hara?” he asked. In reality, it was more of an order than a question. “Bring me up to speed, now.”

“Well... “ she began. “Easy case, really. We’ve already interviewed all the witnesses and the evidence is already pointing in one direction.” She looked up with a sorry look on her face. She of all people knew how antsy he got without something to do. “We have one of the officers already on route to bring him in for questioning. Sorry, partner.”

Lassiter signed. Great. He took a sip of his coffee and pressed his fingers to his temple. He didn’t need a few days off.

There was always paperwork to do at least, so he worked on that for the rest of the day. If there was still no big case to work on the next day, he could always look through some of the older cold cases, which always were fun to do.

The downtime between cases was only fun for a few hours. After completing and filing the necessary paperwork as well as making a few phone calls to get the paperwork and what he needed processed more quickly, Lassiter decided to reward himself with his lunch hour, which he usually took in the comfort of his own desk. Today, just because things were so slow, he decided to leave his sandwich in the fridge for the next day and go somewhere fun for lunch. There was a nice Mexican place that usually took a while to get the food out that would be the perfect distraction for today. He went ahead and called in his order and then began driving over.

After paying for his food, he took it to a nearby park across the street and sat down on one of the public benches. He had gotten himself some freshly made and hot chicken tacos, a treat for himself. The notion of a “treat” was absolutely ridiculous, he realized as he unbagged the food. Perhaps he had been splurging more than usual with all the fancy coffees and now his favorite Mexican place that was a little out of the way. Did he even deserve these so-called treats, as he called them in his mind? He hadn’t even been the one to solve the big case, after all.

What was up with Shawn? Not only had he solved one, but two cases for him in the span of a week, like it was too easy. It wasn’t easy. Lassiter had spent hours upon hours reading and looking over a bunch of information only to have a barista tell him within a short little visit who the perp was. It was ridiculous really.

As if to rub it in his face while he was contemplating the fact that it wasn’t even him who solved the big case, his phone rang: a call from Henry Spencer, his former mentor.

“Hey, Henry, It’s been awhile.”

“It’s nice to hear your voice, rookie,” Henry said jovially through the speakers. “I’m just calling because I wanted to congratulate you on solving the Todd case.”

“Thanks,” Lassiter said. “How are you doing Henry? How’s the retirement treating you this month?”

“Fine, fine. We haven’t been fishing together in awhile. You should never feel shy to reach out. Anyway, besides the congratulations on solving that big case, I was wondering if you’d be free next Friday?”

“Why?”

“I’m thinking of having a barbeque. Just a few guys from the station, nothing too big. You should come by, show the old guys how well I taught ya, huh?”

Lassiter nearly groaned at the prospect of a social gathering, but seeing as though it would all be guys from the station, he figured he would be able to talk shop for most of it. Besides, Henry Spencer was one of the SBPD’s best, the human lie detector, as they called him, and he was proud that he was mentored by him.

“Next Friday...?” he trailed off, knowing full well he had no plans. “Yeah, I could go for a burger. I’ll be there.”

“Great, see you then.”

ch 1 a03

#shassie #ao3 #fanfic #psych #psych fanfic #my fic

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greennct · 5 years

Text

johnny in a café

look at his lil face in this photo eye- !!!! anyway i love johnny i love cafés here u go i guess :))) i feel like this went on for so long i had to end it where i did, but it seems kind of unfinished to me, so if u want a part ii, lmk! 💞💖💘

(1.8k words, fluff, johnny makes a dick joke, swearing as you can tell lmao)

song rec: coffee break by lucas & jonah nilsson y'all know i had to

To be completely honest, you had never really cared for kpop idols.

Don’t get me wrong, you didn’t have anything against them, you had just always been too busy with your schoolwork to genuinely pay attention to one particular group, and aside from the huge hits which came on at every party, you couldn’t say you knew very much about the industry as a whole. It wasn’t that you disliked them, you just didn’t know enough about kpop to formulate an overall positive or negative opinion.

Maybe that was why your friend Minhyuk tolerated you working in SM’s café. He had scored the job there a few summers ago (”Due to my charming personality and unparalleled good looks,” he had informed you), and you were the only one in your friendship group that he had let in on the secret, presumably because of your indifference towards the company. You had been looking for a place to study in peace close to campus ever since your college days had commenced, and you decided that the café was an adequate spot. Since Minhyuk knew you weren’t concerned with idols’ lives, he was confident you wouldn’t cause trouble, and convinced his manager to let you stay there for hours, so long as you gave him a ride home at the end of his shift.

Although it was usually annoyingly busy, filled with tourists and teenagers attempting to spot their favourite members, and the coffee was watered-down Starbucks-esque bullshit, the seats were comfortable, and walking there took less than five minutes from your lecture hall. As long as you kept your head down, and your headphones in, you found the place was tolerable, and after a while you grew to harbour a small affection for the pink walls (although you never got used to the huge posters of the SM idols boring holes into your forehead that were replaced every week).

Unfortunately, your uninterrupted bliss was not destined to last. The end of your study salvation came in the form of a tall, permanently smirking idol, who suddenly started gangling through the café at least once a week. Whilst most of the idols who frequented the café came through as surreptitiously as they could, cap pulled over their head, mask pulled to the side as they stage-whispered their order, this boy was the complete opposite. Rattling off his group’s order ostentatiously, he made sure to send frequent winks over his shoulder at the fans almost weeing themselves at the sight of the back of his head.

The first time he came down, there were so many squeals you took out your headphones in alarm, afraid the fire alarm had gone off, or there was some other emergency. Fortunately, it was only the boy who had caused the ruckus, and you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes slightly at all the fuss.

This was probably your first mistake.

It seemed no one else in the café had noticed your unimpressed expression, apart from, strangely, the boy himself. To your utter surprise, he sent a wink directly your way, and a finger heart a few seconds later, when he realised that instead of being met with a scream, you had just frowned slightly. The ‘fanservice’ was uncomfortable for you, not only because his sudden attention drew others in the café to look at you, but also because, well to be frank, you had no idea who he was. You didn’t have a clue what he did. For all you knew, he could’ve been a particularly attractive manager the fans had taken a liking to.

Nevertheless, you simply shoved your earphones back in, and got on with the rest of your work. He returned the very next day. This time, the café was less crowded, so though there were still some scattered gasps and shrieks when he walked in, you could keep your headphones in. You made sure to keep your eyes glued on your screen for the duration of his visit, pointedly ignoring him in hopes of avoiding contact with him this time. When he left without acknowledging you, there was a fleeting moment of disappointment. You put it down to lack of sleep.

The boy didn't return for the rest of the week, and to be honest, you kind of forgot about the noisy kpop idol, mind more fixated on your looming midterms. It was only when Minhyuk practically yanked you over the counter the following Thursday morning, that he even crossed your mind again.

“Guess who asked for your name this morning!” He hissed, eyes wide.

It was clear from your deadpan expression you weren’t about to start listing possible culprits, so you were given the answer practically immediately.

“Johnny Seo!” Minhyuk gaped at your blank face. “Okay, I knew your kpop knowledge was bad, but how can you not know who NCT are?!”

Clueless at his indignant expression, you simply scoffed, grabbed your coffee cup from his hands, and sat back down, ignoring his protests, begging to show you “Just one music video!” No matter how curious you were as to who this Johnny might be, as long as you had exams, you did not have time for boys, famous kpop idol or not.

After a few hours of studying, you finally cracked. You reasoned with yourself that surely a quick Google wouldn't hurt during your 15 minute break. 40 minutes, and about 300 open tabs later, you had to admit, he was cute. Somehow he managed to look both sweet and sexy at the same time, exuding the cocky charisma that had irked you the first time you had saw him. You decided he looked less annoying when he wasn’t able to open his mouth. Planning to focus on his group’s discography next break, you were just about to close the browser window when-

“Hey.”

Slamming your laptop shut, in a desperate attempt to hide your browser history, you kept your eyes focused on your shoes. Having just watched an interview, you knew exactly who the voice belonged to.

“Hi, Johnny.”

“Oh, so you do know who I am! Guess you just got a little starstruck last week, huh, babe?”

Your nose crinkled at the sentence. No matter how good-looking Johnny was, there was no bigger turn-off to you than rudeness.

“I had other things to do. Bigger fish to fry and all that.” You kept your tone curt, still avoiding his gaze, unable to trust yourself to not accidentally reveal what you had just been doing for the good part of an hour.

“Pretty sure the biggest fish around here, is uh, standing in front of you, if you know what I mean.”

Your nose crinkled in disgust. Ugh. If you’re going to make a dick joke, at least make it funny, or at least, have some semblance of logic within its reasoning, you thought.

He chuckled, seemingly unfazed that you weren’t joining in with his laughter. “Well, listen, babydoll, I’ve gotta run, star member of the world’s biggest boyband and all that, but why don’t you take this,” he slid a note onto your textbook with a set of digits on it, “And give me a call. Whenever.”

With that, he was gone. You could finally lift your head up. Sighing, you picked up the scrap of paper Johnny had left. There was a fleeting moment when you considered selling the number, but you ended up just tossing it into the bin, pointedly ignoring Minhyuk practically hyperventilating in the corner over the interaction between you two.

Thankfully, Johnny didn’t come in for a few weeks after that. You began to think you were safe. You had realised the boy had started weeping up on you in small ways. You no longer scoffed when you saw billboards with his face on it, started listening to his music when studying, even wondering what he was up to from time to time. As far as you were concerned, the further away Johnny was, the better.

As soon as you began you relax again, Johnny turned up.

“You didn't call.”

He seemed confused, towering over you once again. You considered pretending to have not heard him, after all, you still had your headphones in, but eventually decided it was better to just reject him as early as possible.

“You didn't ask if I was going to. You just gave me your number.” You accused, practically ripping the buds out.

“Well, I didn't think-”

“No. You didn't.” Turning back to your computer, you were about to resume your music, when you realised he was still talking.

“But... Why not?” His voice faltered slightly, though you had no sympathy for him.

You scoffed, twisting in your chair, rolling your eyes right at him. “Because, though it might seem crazy to you, Mr. Seo, not every person on the planet is head over heels in love with you!" Your voice got louder, and you cursed yourself silently for being so easily riled up by him.

To your complete surprise and utter frustration, Johnny simply laughed at your little outburst, previous blip in confidence nonexistent. “Not yet they aren’t.”

You cursed how obvious your blush was. It completely undermined your statement, and both you and Johnny knew it.

He slouched off, sending a lopsided smirk in your direction as you groaned. You were going to have to find a new café.

As much as you hated to admit it, Johnny did start to creep into your thoughts more often. You kept frequenting the café, despite telling yourself that you needed to find a new one, and didn’t care for the tiny shiver of adrenaline every time you heard the gasp of someone recognising an idol. You were surprised to find yourself dismayed as the time started to stretch between Johnny’s last visit.

Running your hands through your hair, you sighed, unable to focus that evening. It had been a stifling afternoon, and since the cafés air-con had broken, you were literally the only customer in the entire building, trapped into waiting until Minhyuks shift ended. Sighing for what felt the the thousandth time today, you read and re-read the introduction to your essay, unable to be productive at all. You were ridiculously distracted by that stupid boy! Maybe you should take another class, you considered, your brain seemed to have a lot more free time than you liked. All you could think about was whether or not Johnny was in the building, whether he forgot you, whether he thought about you, what he was doing right now, why-

“Feeling as sweet as you look, Princess? Because let me tell you, it’s not exactly a pretty sight to-”

This time, upon hearing Johnny’s voice, you were shocked to have to suppress a smile. Distance really did make your heart grow fonder. There was no denying it now. You liked Johnny, the most obnoxious, self-absorbed person you knew.

“Never call me Princess again.” You deadpanned, figuring it was safest to ride out your surely temporary crush on Johnny, until he had moved on and you were safe to study in peace.

“Sure, Princess.” You tried not to notice how nice the word sounded when he said it. “Are you free?”

“What? W- why?” You prayed Johnny hadn’t noticed your stutter.

“Why not? I wanna take you on a date. Nothing’s stopping me.” A pause. “You aren’t nervous, aren’t you?” Of course he had picked up on it.

“Of course not!” You found your voice again.

“Okay, then lets go!” He reached for your hand, as if the matter had been settled.

“Excuse you? I have work! Essays and projects and a million other things that I need to do!” This was a lie. Your latest piece of homework was due in two weeks.

“So what I’m hearing is... later.”

“Whatever.”

“So, that’s a yes!” He whooped, grabbing you out of your chair and spinning you around.

Your face had never been redder in your life. Spluttering, you managed “I didn’t- I wasn't-”

“Oh, but you did! You were! I knew you couldn’t resist me!” Johnny crowed. With that he practically sprinted out of the door, and you were left flushed and wondering what in the world you had just agreed to.

Johnny didn’t come back to the café for another four weeks. You found it morbidly ironic that the when you finally decided that you wanted to see him, he was nowhere to be found. You ended up staying later than you needed to, having finished all your work and instead pottering around on your laptop, glancing around the café every few minutes. However, Johnny started to become more and more elusive. You tried to reason with yourself that since he was an idol, he had an extremely busy schedule, and even if he wanted to take you out, he couldn't. You knew he had a comeback coming out, as the promotional posters for it had been stuck all over the building. Yet as the distance between his last visit stretched longer and longer, you wondered whether you had imagined the boy’s interest after all.

Of course, after all your agonising and pining, you didn’t even notice Johnny when he actually did come into the café. Your headphones were in, as usual, attempting to drown out the boy talking loudly on the phone next to you. A light tap on your shoulder made you jump out of your skin, your terrified expression automatically melting into a smile when you saw who had been the culprit of your shock.

“Johnny!” You beamed.

“Woah, don’t look too happy to see me! I won’t be able to recognise you, from the Ice Princess you were last week.”

Wrinkling your nose slightly, you shot back, trying to distract from your flustered face “Four weeks ago, was the last time you saw me, not last week.”

“Not that you’re counting.” was the cheeky reply.

You chuckled. Touché.

Johnny flipped the chair opposite you backwards, sitting with his two legs resting comfortably on either side of the back of the chair, leaning on it’s top rail with his broad chest. You couldn’t help but notice how endearing his boyishness was.

“So, are you free now, Princess? Still up for the date I was promised?”

“Uhh...” You pretended to check your calendar app. “I guess I could spare an hour or two.”

“Wait, seriously?!” Johnny almost fell of his chair.

“You act as though I didn’t agree to it the first time you asked me.”

“I know, I just didn’t think you were actually serious! I mean,” You raised your eyebrows. “Well, we both know you’re out of my league!” It was his turn to flush. You were shocked by his words.

“You. An idol. A person whose job it is to look attractive. Thinks that I. The most average person you will ever meet. Is out of his league.” Your voice and expression were so deadpan, Johnny leaned over the table to ruffle your head affectionately, giggling.

“You’re hilarious, see? That’s what I’m talking about.”

You stood up, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “Let's go, Seo.”

“Hey, that rhymed!”

You forgot to roll your eyes, too busy blushing when Johnny brushed your shoulders with his fingertips, wordlessly taking the bag from you and shifting it onto his back instead.

“C’mon, Ice Princess. Let’s go someplace with real food. The coffee here is awful - I only came down here to talk to you, anyway.”

#johnny #johnny seo #johnny nct #nct #nct 127 #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #johnny imagines #Johnny scenarios #johnny fanfic #writings

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mirohed · 5 years

Text

kim seunghun | love me, love me not

pairing: kim seunghun + gender neutral reader

wc: 3.7k

genre: hanahaki au + angst

synopsis: daffodils represent unrequited love. is that why you keep coughing them up?

warnings: implications of suggestive content, descriptions of illness (and mention of surgery), mention of alcohol

playlist: love me, love me not.

a/n: happy birthday to me!! im glad i finally got to finish and post this (its,,, been in my wips since at least february LMAO) !! they prob wont read this but i wanted to thank my irls for dealing w me and my kpop bullshit (esp bc none of them stan ygtb 😔)

It's getting worse.

Your knuckles turn white, gripping the porcelain of the toilet. Tears and blood alike fall into the bowl, disturbing the gentle peace of the water. You pound at your chest, the action causing you to hack up yellow daffodil petals stained suspicious red. It's a monotonous process at this point. Pound. Cough. Pound. Cough. Repeat until the damned coughing stops.

It takes ten minutes before you return to normal. Or at least as normal as you can get. You got lucky this time.

You watch the petals spiral downward into the gaping hole in the toilet and get flushed away.

Being with Seunghun wasn't always accompanied by a tightness in your chest and petals tickling your throat.

june 19, 2005; 2:52 PM.

"I wanna grow up," you had grumbled, your hands squeezed around the chains of the swingset. You and Seunghun had been riding your bikes for the first time since getting the training wheels off. You had sped down a hill ("First one down’s a rotten egg!") and lost control, falling off and scraping your knee on the pavement. He rushed you to your parents' house, supporting your weight with an arm around your waist. The two of you had settled for playing on the swingset in your backyard instead.

"Me too," he said. "I think." He'd been rocking forward and backward on the swing, eyes focused on the blades of grass underfoot.

"You think?"

"I don't know." You stayed silent, trying to gain as much height as possible with your uninjured leg. "I don't wanna grow up and stop being friends." That got you to stop right in your tracks, your leg planted on the ground.

"What?" You sent an incredulous look his way. "Why would we stop being friends?"

He had let go of the swing, his hands finding his lap. "Some of the older kids stopped being friends when they grew up," he mumbled. "I don't wanna stop being friends, but neither did they..."

You got off the swing, limping over to him and wrapping Seunghun in the biggest hug your six-year-old arms could muster.

"We're gonna be best friends forever. Don't forget that."

"Best friends forever." If he wrapped his arms tighter around you then, you didn’t pick up on it.

[09:54 PM] huniebee🐝: i had fun today :^))

[09:54 PM] huniebee🐝: i wanna adopt a puppy!!

[09:55 PM] huniebee🐝: will you promise to help me take care of it

You brighten as the messages come in, your phone's vibrations distracting you from the way your throat clogs.

[09:56 PM] you: ofc

[09:56 PM] you: well be the best puppy parents the worlds ever seen

[09:57 PM] huniebee🐝: wait i need to send the pics from the pet shelter

[Attachment: 8 images]

You save each picture, cooing over the puppies you got to meet. This time, you only get a precious few minutes of relative clarity before things get too distracting to ignore. You return to the bathroom with a resigned sigh that devolves into a fit of coughs.

You cough and retch and cough some more. By the time you're done, there are less petals and more blood in the toilet bowl. Your chest still feels full of something you can't quite spit out.

Then you hack up something new: a bloody stem with wet flowers still attached.

There's nothing left to do but cry, your whole body wracked with pain both physical and emotional.

august 29, 2011; 3:15 PM.

"Today was fun," you said, making yourself right at home on Seunghun's bed. Your new backpack hadn't lasted more than a couple minutes in his house before getting neglected on his carpet. Your best friend hummed in acknowledgement, already sitting at his desk with his workbook out. "I'm glad we got to meet some new people," you continued, "but that Hyunsuk guy? Seems like a major pain in the ass."

"Give him a chance."

"I know, I know. I will. But still," you huffed, “it was his first day too. No need to act like a know-it-all."

"I know. But it's the first day. Maybe he'll even himself out with time."

The conversation ended there, and you spent some time staring at his ceiling fan, the blades going round and round in a big, beautiful blur. Before long, you had grown bored, looking over at him only to see his pencil flying across the paper.

"Hey. Let's go to the mall and get pretzels." Seunghun spun around to face you, a foot stopping his chair from going too far.

"Sure," he gave a placid smile. "Do your work first."

You groaned as loudly as you could, sounding much like a petulant child straight out of elementary school. (Which was more or less the truth, but you thought you were better than that.) After a few minutes of uninterrupted whining and failing to get Seunghun to break, you spoke up. "Why do I need to do my work? You're Mr. Hardworking, Mr. Teacher's Pet."

"We're in middle school now," he had said, and you remember thinking you were in for a long lecture, "and pretty soon, we're gonna have to go to high school and take entrance exams and decide which university we want to go to and..." He averted his gaze, put down his pen. "We need to start growing up."

"We're still young," you reasoned, sitting up and letting your legs dangle off the side of his bed. "If anything, this is our time to experience things and, you know, make mistakes before we become adults!"

He was silent for a few long, agonizing moments, long enough to make you think you'd won. The pretzels were within reach; all you had to do was ask for them.

"I call a compromise."

Shit. Compromises were common in your friendship. Seunghun was always a little too good at stopping you from making stupid decisions. The worst part was that you could never argue with them. "We go to the mall to get pretzels—my treat—if, and only if, you do your work. We don't go until we're both finished. Deal?"

You opened your mouth, determined to pick the proposal apart, but his reasoning was (unpleasant, yet) bulletproof. Instead, you reached for your backpack with a heavy sigh. "First of all, fuck you. Second of all," you said, tugging your own workbook out, "you're impossible."

"I know. Do your work."

"Fine."

The math problems had been difficult, definitely harder than you were used to, but doable. If anything, the greasy mall pretzels that were way too salty to be healthy made it all worth it.

Seunghun gets understandably very worried when you text him from the hospital, but he comes to see you nonetheless. In his arms is a bouquet of daffodils.

"They symbolize friendship," he says, setting it down on the table next to you. You stare at the pristine yellow petals and flatten your lips in a tight smile. How ironic, you think, that he doesn't know they also symbolize unrequited love.

"The doctors wouldn't tell me why you're here. Classified information, they said." That much is true; nor much is known about the disease outside of shitty romance movies with unrealistically happy endings. Seunghun always believed in them. You never did.

You don't think your story's gonna have a happy ending.

You didn't want him to know anyway, lest he worry. (And you don't want to think about what would happen to your friendship if he found out he was the cause of it all.) "You don't have to tell me," he begins, sitting himself down on one of those rigid hospital chairs, "I just wanna know if it's bad. Like, well...you know.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “Terminal."

"Like if I'm gonna die?"

"Yeah," he rubs the nape of his neck, a bit abashed, "more or less."

"I don't know. Sure hope not," you chuckle. That brings on a coughing fit, and Seunghun looks on, brows knit together. He moves close to offer what little comfort he can, but you hold your hand up to stop him; having him near will only make things worse.

Petals threaten to spill out of your mouth, and panic bubbles in your chest when he asks if you're okay. Your doctor, bless her, chooses that moment to enter. She shooes him out "to speak to you in private." Seunghun, to his credit, obliges and flashes you a smile and a thumbs-up as he goes. You try to mirror his expression (and hope your smile isn't more of a grimace).

The door closes behind him with a soft click. "Friend of yours?" the doctor asks.

You spit the blood-stained petals into your hand, your doctor graciously looking the other way as you toss them into the trash. "You could say that."

october 4, 2013; 5:11 PM.

You tugged at your clothing, feeling more than a little uncomfortable as you waited for your best friend to show up. The DJ, a former student, was already hard at work inside the gym. You heard the bass-boosted beginning of the Cupid Shuffle and shot a frantic text to Seunghun.

[05:11 PM] you: holy shit theyre playing the cupid shuffle can you PLEASE hurry up

[05:12 PM] you: idc if this is our first homecoming you better get your ass over here

[05:12 PM] huniebee🐝: give me like two minutes!!

[05:12 PM] you: THE SONGS GONNA BE OVER IN 2 MIN

"Are you waiting for Seunghun?" Hyunsuk had asked, tie already loosened. You two had gotten close—not as close as you and Seunghun, of course—this year as a result of having classes together. You wondered why you ever hated him.

"Yeah. He won't be too late, thank God, but I'm pissed we're missing the Cupid Shuffle. What about you? I remember you bragging all week about 'flexing your dance skills in front of the ladies.' Or are you all talk, as usual?"

"You know, it's almost like you don't want me to wait with you."

You had laughed, knocking your shoulder into his. The chatter kept up for a minute or two before he made his leave. ("Well, it's time for me to flex my dance muscles in front of the seniors," he chuckled, giving you a salute as he walked off.)

"I'm here! God, I can't believe I missed the Cupid Shuffle," Seunghun said, head hung low. You began to feel a little self-conscious; you were feeling out of place in your semi-formal outfit, yet he looked right at home in his dress shirt.

Chasing those thoughts away, you grinned. "You're here now, aren't you? Come on." You took his hand and dragged him into the gym.

You don't talk to Seunghun or to Hyunsuk after that. You're not sure if you should tell Hyunsuk about the whole situation when he texts you. Seunghun must have told him something was up, of course, and he's insightful enough, sensitive enough (when he wants to be), but you worry. You're afraid he'll open his big mouth. Instead, you send a few messages to your best friend.

[04:29 AM] you: hey

[04:29 AM] you: i just wanted to say in advance that im sorry

[04:29 AM] you: im so so sorry for everything ive done and for what im about to do

There's one last message in the text box, daring you to send it. "I'm sorry I love you," you whisper instead, deleting the message before you do something you’ll regret. To seal the deal, you tap through a few menus until you reach his contact. The picture you've assigned to him is one you took; he's about to take a big bite of cotton candy bigger than his head.

With a heavy heart (though you hope it’s just the weight of the daffodils in your chest), you block his contact. It's better this way. It has to be.

Your doctor said you could get rid of the thick, thorned vines with a vicegrip around your heart and lungs, could pluck the flowers that threaten to spill out at the mere thought of your best friend.

The biggest side effect of it all, she told you, was that you'd forget all about Kim Seunghun. So you steel yourself.

The last thing you think about before they insert the thin needle of anesthesia in your veins is Seunghun's smile, and how you'll never see it in person again.

And how even if you did, you wouldn't remember it as the grin from the boy you love.

october 4, 2013; 9:16 PM.

The frenetic strobe lighting in the gym slowed to a stop, having been replaced with a spotlight making lazy rounds through the gym.

You knew that marked the beginning of a slow song, and dragged Seunghun off the floor in search of some punch. He seemed to have different plans, tugging you back on the floor and pulling you flush against him.

"Where are you going?" he had asked. "You're the one who wanted to dance the night away." His hands found your waist, yours instinctively folding behind his neck. You had wanted to say something about how that claim was void now; he was the one that made you miss the Cupid Shuffle, but the words get extinguished when you look at him.

It was just like that time you practiced in fifth grade, but you swore there was something different about tonight and the way you swayed. You thought back to your practice session in fifth grade, how you had stepped on each other's feet, how you spent the whole time laughing. (For the record, it wasn't for any lack of balance; you started it, laughing as he cried out before he stomped on your toe.)

There was no laughing during the song. Everything was vibrant and deafening and there all at once. But at the same time, it was like everything had been stripped away. Everything but you and Seunghun.

Things changed after that. You were left with a dizzying, free-fall sort of feeling that picked up with each glance at your best friend. Almost every butterfly in the world was taking current residency in your stomach, making you feel light as your body moved to the music. Before long, there was something lodged at the back of your throat, nudging its way forward.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick," you said, a particularly heavy cough bringing the mysterious lump to your mouth.

Running your tongue along the smooth texture of the lump (okay, so not phlegm), you spat the offending object into the sink: a single yellow petal, coated in saliva.

You blinked.

Blinked again.

"Oh, what the fuck," you muttered, unlocking your phone. One quick Google search later—why the fuck am i coughing up flowers—you found an answer.

Flora mortem. You were loath to believe WebMD, of all things, but you found yourself tapping the link regardless. There was another term for the rare disease: Hanahaki.

Revising your search query was a mistake. The first result was the "hanahaki" tag on Tumblr, which showed nothing but models with tears in their eyes and bloodied flowers in their mouths. Yikes.

You made your way back to the party after that, but lingering in the back of your mind was the cause of the disease: a severe case of unrequited love.

There is only one definite cure for Hanahaki Disease: having the object of the afflicted's affections return their feelings.

You almost manage to purge the petal and the stupid WebMD page from your mind for the rest of the night.

Almost.

You wake up hours later. It's a little disorienting, sure, to come to with little memory of what landed you in the hospital. You peek under the oversized hospital gown to see bandages over your chest, get tempted to rip the IV drip from your arm. The doctor comes in right before you make a move on the needle. She tells you all about how the flowers in your lungs are gone for good.

"You're saved. But the final test," she says, pulling a phone from her pocket, "is this. Do you recognize the people in this picture?"

You recognize yourself next to a boy you don't know. His hand's around your waist, pulling you close. You wear matching grins. Given the way you're both dressed, you suspect the picture's from your freshman year's homecoming dance. Weird. Memory's kinda fuzzy from that night.

"Yeah. Myself. I don't know the other guy. Am I supposed to?"

"No. You're not. Congratulations," she smiles, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You're cured."

You look through all the old messages and pictures when you have some time to yourself. You reach out for the memory, the feeling of knowing Kim Seunghun. You get nothing, and while your brain knows something's wrong, you're more concerned about being able to breathe easy.

You move to a new city, far, far away from the place you grew up in. You finish your last year of high school, get a job, start college. You make new memories with new people. You forget all about Kim Seunghun.

It gets easy to forget that you weren't born with the ugly faded red scars that run up and down your chest. It's your only remaining tie to the man you loved so much you almost let yourself wither away. You think it's a good thing you cut him off; why stick around, why force yourself to suffer, for someone who doesn't love you back? Why be with someone if it physically hurts to stay by their side?

But sometimes you wonder. What happened? What happened to him after his best friend walked out of his life for good with no explanation?

Those days are never good. You distract yourself then, often with the familiar kick of alcohol burning in the back of your throat. You've never been much of a drinker, but you figure it's never too late to start.

Sometimes, the distraction comes from being in the arms of another.

(One of your favorite distractions, a young man named Byounggon, had run his fingers along the angry lines one night, jotting them down in his map of your body.

"Do you regret it?" he asked then, eyes half-lidded with drowsiness. You cupped his cheek, ran a thumb along the planes of his face.

"I wouldn't be here if I regretted it, now would I?" He let the corners of his mouth turn up just so, pressing his lips to yours.

You don't talk to him much nowadays, your interactions reduced to likes on Instagram, views on Snapchat. He's moved to a bigger city. "More opportunities," he said. You keep up with his dream of being a musician, always. There was a time when you were his number one supporter, after all.)

"Will that be all?" the cashier asks, jotting your order on the plastic cup. When you nod, he asks for your name. He jots that down too.

But then his eyes widen and he looks at you with renewed interest. "I'm sorry?"

"Is there a problem?" you asks, peering at your name (spelled correctly) on the cup. His eyes search for an answer within yours, some sort of explanation you can't seem to give. He averts his gaze, shakes his head, places your cup in the queue of orders.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Just thought you were someone I knew. Have a nice day." You parrot the phrase, catching a glimpse of the young man's name tag.

Seunghun, it reads in cheerful yellow. There's a doodle of a puppy in the top right corner. You think it's rather cute.

Two weeks later, you meet Seunghun again. This time, you're out for a morning jog. The crisp autumn air greets you as your feet meet the pavement and let out a satisfactory crunch under the burnt orange leaves on the sidewalk.

You both get stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. While you catch your breath, you don't miss the way he flinches, as though he didn't expect you to show up. He schools his expression into something friendly within no time, and you wonder if you imagined the whole thing.

"The weather's nice, isn't it?"

"It is," you pant. "On your way to work?" He raises a hand to tug at the strap of his backpack with a small smile.

"Yeah. You should come by, give us business," he grins. "On mornings like this, I recommend the hazelnut latte." You hum in agreement, not yet recovered enough to converse. "Tell you what, you come and get one when I'm working, I'll make sure it's on the house."

"Really? Maybe I'll swing by." The light changes, and you leave Seunghun behind, waving goodbye as you do.

You come in later that day, ordering a hazelnut latte as promised. Seunghun's manning the register, same as two weeks ago, and when he takes everything down, he smiles. You miss it as you pay, but there's something extra on your cup.

As you take a sip of the (delicious; his coworker Yedam must be some sort of brewing prodigy) latte, you catch a glimpse of the extra writing.

Along the side of the cup is his phone number.

[10:58 PM] seunghun!: more than anything i want to adopt a puppy

[10:59 PM] seunghun!: or rather another one

[10:59 PM] seunghun!: i named this one after an old friend

[Attachment: 1 image]

The picture of Seunghun and his dog brings a smile to your face. You've been spending more time with him recently, whether it be going on coffee runs ("Are you sure you're not just using me for my employee discount?") or complaining about life as a broke college student ("My card got declined trying to buy a bag of chips last night...").

It's nice. Spending time with him is...nice.

It's more than a simple distraction, somebody to hold close on nights your decisions try to haunt you. It’s friendship, something to hold onto when you lose your way in the dense forest of your mind and to cherish when you manage to make it to a clearing and bask in the sunshine.

You've caught a cold recently (probably from that bastard Seo Changbin in your communications class). Seunghun's given you some homemade tea, swearing on its usefulness. It certainly tastes good, the sweet honey chased by tangy lemon. Unfortunately, the tea isn't able to stop the persistent cough you've been plagued with.

Feeling phlegm start to come up, you turn the bathroom lights on, hacking it up and spitting into the sink.

Huh. That's weird.

There's no phlegm.

The only thing in the sink is a single golden petal, coated in saliva.

#seunghun scenario #seunghun imagine #seunghun angst #kim seunghun scenario #kim seunghun imagine #kim seunghun angst #ygtb scenario #ygtb imagine #ygtb fluff #yg treasure box scenario #yg treasure box imagine #yg treasure box angst #seunghun #ygtb #ari.doc #ariweek 2019 #c9boyz

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i-own-your-wifi · 5 years

Text

Bechloe Week Day 4 - High School

[AO3]

TW: d slur, homophobia, bullying

Beca didn’t like high school. She hated waking up early in the morning and going to classes she didn’t like with people she hated. Everyone around her were hormonal idiots who smelled like sweat and cheap perfume. It made her feel sick sometimes.

Beca didn’t have many friends. She wasn’t very well liked by the other students based on the fact that she doesn’t take their bullshit and her whispered insults are always louder than she intends. She manages just fine though. She has two good friends and is on friendly terms with their friends and keeps her head down whenever she’s alone. She’s known her friends, Jesse and Luke, since they were kids and they were ride or die. Beca got detention many times for defending Jesse and his weird friend Benji from the jocks who bully them. Luke didn’t need Beca’s defending in that way, he was bigger and stronger than her and punched anyone who looked at him or Beca wrong, but he had shit luck and often needed an alibi due to some scheme he pulled and Beca was more than willing to provide one.

Beca also had a girlfriend. This was a recently new development and Beca was on cloud nine. She didn’t expect to get a girlfriend until she moved to LA and grew up. Chloe was amazing, she made Beca happy and seeing her everyday made the dimly lit hallways a little bit brighter.

Chloe had a lot of friends. She was a cheerleader and part of the school choir. She was on student council and the social justice club. She was popular and everyone liked her. Even the jocks tripped over themselves to say hi to her. Usually the jocks were tripping others (Beca) to entertain their tiny brains. Beca didn’t know how she managed to fall for someone so different from her or how Chloe managed to fall for her too. But it didn’t matter, Beca was happy and so was Chloe.

They were happy, but the rest of the school was desperate to pick apart anything different and ruin it. Beca faced her fair share of slurs in the hallways ever since she came out in the tenth grade and started dressing like “a sad emo goth bitch” (Ryan Harrington’s words, not hers). Chloe didn’t, even though she never hid from her bisexuality, but she also never announced it either. And the general population ignored her sexuality to save their perfect image of her in their heads. That’s changed since she started dating Beca.

“Hey Chlo.” Beca said as she leaned against the lockers. It was way too early to be awake in Beca’s opinion, but she’ll do it to see Chloe for 20 uninterrupted minutes in the morning.

“Hi.” Chloe said quietly. Beca straightened up. Something was wrong.

“You okay?” Beca asked. Chloe nodded. “I don’t believe that, you’ve usually talked my ear off about whatever cute thing your dog did as you were leaving. What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Chloe said. “I’m just tired.” Beca wasn’t convinced, but she wasn’t going to push it.

“Okay.” She said. “Are you ready for that biology test?”

Beca found out later why Chloe was upset. One of the idiot jocks wrote dyke in Sharpie on Chloe’s locker. Beca found out because she was skipping class and happened to pass Chloe’s locker where Aubrey, Chloe’s best friend, was furiously scrubbing the door with hand sanitizer. Beca saw enough of what was written to know what happened and she recognized the handwriting. It was the same meathead who wrote on Beca’s locker every three weeks.

Beca was fuming. It didn’t take her long to track down the bully. He was smoking under the bleachers with a few others. Beca stormed up to him and poked him in the chest.

“What the fuck did you do, you piece of shit?!” Beca poked him again. “You know what you did! I don’t fucking care if you wanna scrawl whatever bullshit your brain thinks up on my locker, but stay the fuck away from my girlfriend or so help me god!”

He looked shocked for a few moments then his face hardened. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

Beca wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face, consequences be damned. She knew it was a bad idea and she should leave it alone. She never had much self control anyway. She pulled back and punched him with all her might. He stumbled back a few steps and Beca felt victorious. Then he straightened up and Beca regretted everything she’s ever done in her life.

She ended up in the nurse’s office covered in bandages with ice packs on her worst bruises. She insisted that the secretary didn’t call her dad to pick her up and it was a testament to how much the staff don’t care that she agreed. So Beca was left to entertain herself until the day ended and she could take the bus to Jesse’s house and stay overnight. Beca decided to count the number of times the light flickered and eavesdropped on the secretary’s conversations.

“Beca! Oh my god!”

Beca startled then grimaced. Chloe rushed over and kneeled in front of Beca.

“What happened?” Chloe asked.

Beca smirked. “You know me, always getting into trouble.”

“Did one of the football players do this? I’ll tell the coach and they’ll get kicked off.” Chloe said. Beca shook her head. “Was it Bumper? I know he doesn’t usually hit people but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Chlo, it’s fine.” Beca said. “It’s not important.”

“Yes, it is!” Chloe insisted. “You got hurt! I won’t let whoever did this get away with it!” Beca smiled. “What?”

“Nothing, just… That’s why I did it.”

“Did what?”

Beca shifted away from Chloe and looked down at her lap. “I might’ve… found out… about your locker… and… got really mad.”

Chloe sighed. “What did you do?”

“I might’ve… punched him in the face…”

“Beca!”

“I’m sorry! I was really mad because… like, you’re really cool dude, and I don’t like when those assholes are mean to you.” Beca said.

“I still think you shouldn’t have done it, but thank you anyway.” Chloe smiled. “My knight in shining armour.”

“I’m a terrible knight.” Beca said. Chloe nodded.

“But you’re very cute!” Chloe kissed Beca’s cheek gently. “But I don’t want you going after anymore boys who are literally three times your size.”

“Hey!”

Chloe shrugged. “No offense, but it’s like they’re Big Macs and you’re a snack wrap.” Beca crossed her arms and glared at Chloe. “I said no offense.” Chloe stood up and held out her hand to Beca. “Now come on, I’ll take you back to my place and you can rest, okay?”

“Sounds way better than being in this dump.” Beca took Chloe’s hand and walked out.

“That’s what I thought.”

#bechloe #bechloe week #bechloe week 2019 #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #fics #my fic

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peterparkerpatrol-deactivated · 6 years

Photo

ANOTHΣR SHΦT

Fratboy!Tom Holland | Tom x Reader

Chapters: | 1 | 2 |

Chapter 2

You wouldn’t say that you liked Mondays, but there was something refreshing about the start of a new week. The mad dash to get all of your work done on Sunday night often meant you hit a slump in the afternoon, so to cope with the post-weekend crash you’d created a routine that involved getting a large coffee from the campus coffee cart and finding a nice grassy spot in the quad to settle onto and get a start on your readings for the week. It was small, but it was something that helped get you through the day and gave you something to look forward to. This particular Monday was sunny, but a cool breeze would occasionally blow through and gently tug at your hair as you made your way around campus. You walked towards your usual spot at the base of one of the many trees in the quad and settled yourself against its thick trunk. Across the quad, a group of people were kicking around a soccer ball.

You took a sip of your coffee and pulled out your textbook and notebook and started reading, jotting down important things from the chapter as you read. You’d had 30 minutes of uninterrupted reading time when someone suddenly plopped down beside you.

“Hello Y/N,” grinned Tom, a slight sheen of sweat covering the copious amount of skin he was showing in his muscle shirt. “You didn’t text me, I was worried about you,” he said, taking a pull from his water bottle. As he tilted his head up, you got a clear view of his tight jawline.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s kept you up at night,” you responded. “I thought you didn’t live on campus?”

“I don’t, I was just at the gym,” he said, pointing back at the large rec hall on campus. “I’d just finished when I saw you sitting here, figured I’d pop by and say hello.”

“Well, hello to you too,” You said simply, turning to look back at your book.

“What’re you reading?” He asked. You held up your book higher so he could read the cover, still staring intently at the paragraph you were reading. “Student’s Guide to Cognitive Neuroscience? Sounds hard.”

“Yeah, you really need to pay attention to what you’re reading to get it,” you respond pointedly.

“Oh come on Y/N, you can’t honestly tell me you’d rather read that than speak to me,” Tom laughed.

“Yes, I am honestly telling you that,” you said, mimicking his accent. “I need to read this, we have our first midterm soon.”

“Alright, alright,” Tom said, throwing his hands up in defeat, “I’ll make this quick. Sig Ep’s hosting a fundraising event this weekend. We rented the pool for a night and are gonna put a bunch of inflatables in it and watch Titanic. Sound like something you’d be interested in?”

“So that’s why you came over,” you said, barely managing to refrain from rolling your eyes “You haven’t sold enough tickets yet and need a few more people to come or you’ll get fined. That’s how that works, right?”

“Sweetheart if you don’t think I could sell ten tickets then you don’t know me,” he smirked.

“I don’t know you,” you pointed out. “I met you like, two days ago.”

“Fair enough,” Tom laughed “let’s change that though. Don’t worry about buying a ticket, I’ll put your name on the list,” he said as he stood up and brushed the grass off his pants. “You have my number so if you’ve got any questions you can text me. Or call if you’d like to hear my voice more. I could give you tips for your impressions.”

“Wait I didn’t sa-“

“I’ll see you Friday!” He said before heading off, a smug smile plastered to his face.

“Why are boys such idiots?” You asked as you tossed your backpack at the foot of your bed. After your encounter with Tom, you couldn’t focus on your reading so you retreated back to your dorm.

“Because they’re boys,” Amanda said simply. She laid in her bed with her laptop on her chest, watching Criminal Minds on Netflix. “You can’t expect a lot out of them. What happened?”

“This guy, Tom, he’s trying to drag me to the Sig Ep event this weekend. But it’s at the pool and-“

“Wait, Tom as in Sig Ep Tom?” Amanda asked, looking over at you. “Tom “look at me I’ve got perfect hair and a British accent” Tom?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess.” You said, suddenly uneasy. Did he have a reputation you hadn’t heard of? He was probably a serial dater. Going out with girls for a few weeks before leaving them for the next cutie in a crop top. He could be the type. “Why, is he-“

“Oh my God Tom Holland is trying to get you to go to Sink or Swim that’s fucking hilarious.” Amanda laughed before you could finish your question.

“It’s not funny!” You said exasperatedly “I talked to him for like, twenty minutes on Saturday and now he won’t leave me alone.”

“And you’re complaining? The guy’s gorgeous. And British!”

“He’s a Sig Ep, Amanda, you know I hate them. I only go to their parties because of you guys.”

“Honey, listen,” Amanda said, pausing her show and moving her laptop to the side so she could sit up and look you in the eye. “I’m not going to say you need to get over your dislike of Sig Eps. After what Daniel did it’s valid. But you need to make an exception for this guy.”

“Why should I? All he’s done is walk around like he’s the king of campus or something and try and flex his snarky attitude at me,” you say, rolling your eyes. “And I guess he called me an Uber on Saturday but that’s it.”

“Woah woah woah wait, Tom’s the guy from Saturday?” Amanda said, “Uh-uh, you don’t get to say he hasn’t done anything for you when he was literally willing to fight Daniel to defend you.”

“Oh my God, Amanda, he was not defending me!”

“He totally was!”

“Babes!” came a voice from your shared bathroom. You lived in a suite with 3 other girls, your two rooms split by a shared bathroom. You and Amanda were in one room, and Emily and Shannon were in the other. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom was Shannon, a patient smile on her face. “What’re you yelling about? I’m trying to study for my French quiz tomorrow.”

“Tom Holland was Y/N’s savior from Saturday!” Amanda blurted.

“No. Way,” Shannon said, a grin spreading over her face.

“Yeah, and he asked her to go to Sink or Swim!”

“What’d you say!” Shannon asked, taking a seat at your desk.

“I didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask me,” You said, pinching the bridge of your nose “Besides I thought it was just a movie screening. It’s not a couples thing or anything… is it?”

“I mean, no, it’s not a couples thing,” Amanda said, “But how many people do you really think these inflatables can fit?”

“I’m not going,” you said flatly “If there’s anything worse than being surrounded by Sig Eps, it’s being surrounded by Sig Eps in a pool.”

“You could sit in the bleachers. No need to get near the water,” Shannon offered.

“I’m not going,” you repeated, growing frustrated. Your roommates could see your growing tension and backed off. They began talking about their own plans for Sink or Swim before Shannon dismissed herself to go back to studying. Now that the seat was vacated, you sat at your desk and took out your textbook, struggling to pay attention to your reading.

“So, saw you talking to a girl today,” Harrison said, spreading some peanut butter on a slice of toast. “Who is she?”

“Just a girl I met at the party on Saturday,” Tom responded, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge. “I only spoke to her for like five minutes, are you stalking me or something?”

“I’m everywhere, mate, you should know this by now. What sorority she in?” Harrison asked.

“I don’t know. She’s friends with some Pi Phi’s apparently.” Tom said. He shook his protein shake and sat down at the frat house’s shared dining table.

Harrison walked over and leaned over the table on his elbows in front of Tom.

“Quit your bullshit, dickhead. Gimme more details,” he said as he took a bite of his toast without breaking eye contact.

“Are you two gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes again?” Jacob asked as he walked in on the scene.

“Tom’s fancying some girl and I wanna know more about her,” Harrison said.

“I don’t fancy her,” Tom said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re certainly making an effort with her,” Harrison said.

“Is it the girl from Saturday?” Jacob asked “Because she was cute,”

“Oh so you tell Jake about her but not me,” Harrison said, acting wounded.

“There’s nothing to tell! I’ve spoken to her like twice, it’s no big deal.”

“So you’re saying you haven’t stalked her Instagram yet?” Jacob asked.

“No, why would I?” Tom shrugged, downing the remainder of his protein shake.

“Because she might have swimsuit pictures on there,” Harrison said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Real mature,” Tom said, rolling his eyes. “I think she’s cute, alright? That’s all there is to that.”

“Is she coming to Sink or Swim?” Harrison asked.

“Hopefully. Bought her a ticket.” Tom shrugged again.

“You don’t usually invest in your hookups,” Jacob pointed out.

“It’s $5 that’s hardly an investment.”

“But it’s something,” Jacob countered.

“You guys are annoying, I’m going to my room.” Tom groaned, leaving the kitchen.

“Remember we have thin walls!” Harrison yelled after him.

Once he got to his room, Tom flopped on his bed and let out a deep breath. It had been a long day, and he still had a lot of homework to get done. Despite this he pulled out his phone and opened Instagram, typing in “Y/N”.

He smirked a little when he saw her profile picture and tapped it, his smirk vanishing when he saw your account was set to private. He was so used to people’s accounts being open and available, he checked to see if he didn’t accidentally try and view your finsta instead. But no, there was only the one private account under your name.

“Mysterious girl…” He mumbled, finally putting his phone down and heading over to his desk to do his work.

AN: I’m taking title suggestions for what to call this series! If you have any ideas you’d like to share I’d love to hear them ^^

Tags: @iaiabear @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @fijiangecko

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stylinsonlibrary · 6 years

Photo

JEALOUS HARRY FIC REC

Always make sure to read all tags/warnings/author’s notes before reading!

Now That It’s Over (8k)

“What are the odds we would both be at Mariano’s on a Thursday night?”

Louis’ shoulders tensed. What the hell was he doing here?

“Harry? Hi? The odds are pretty crazy, yeah.”

Harry smiled down at Louis the way he used to, but there was also a glint in his eye that Louis absolutely did not like. Harry was also dressed in his favorite black and white striped women’s jeans and a printed shirt only he would ever be able to pull off. It was quite rude of him to come and interrupt Louis, particularly while looking so good. Louis hadn’t seen him since he’d finished moving his shit out of what was once their shared flat, so this being the first time seeing him wasn’t exactly providence in Louis’ mind.

Or the one where Harry and Louis broke up two months ago, and Harry just might be sabotaging Louis’ dates.

Forever, Uninterrupted (8k)

Harry finds a mysterious picture in Louis’ bag one night and drives himself crazy over it. It’s definitely not what he thinks.

can’t go without you anymore (10k)

Harry Styles was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. This was award season. He wasn’t even nominated for anything, still everyone wanted a piece of him. But Harry was lonely. And a stressed and lonely Harry did no one good. What if one night his friends and his manager just ran into the most fitting boy for their friend? And what if maybe they set him up as Harry Styles personal assistant. It already sounds like the beginning of a disaster.

or Personal Assistant Louis Tomlinson is going to be the end of actor Harry Styles. This was a given.

We Can Be Greater (10k)

Louis, Harry, Zayn, Niall, and Liam, were simply five run away teens, desperately seeking a safe haven from their foster home. When they discovered an abandoned building, they entered it, their lives ceased to remain the same because they entered upon a different realm. A new universe, one in which they were superheroes.

The moment they reached this new world, they were desperately needed to defeat a villain; sounds cool right? Except they had no clue of their powers, this new world, the villain, or how to get back home. This is the story of how five outcasts turned from hooligans into heroes.

See Clearly Now (11k)

“My eyes are up here.”

What? Was— was Louis flirting with him?

Harry looked up — much too slowly, probably — and saw Louis watching him, his mouth quirked up on one side, a grin threatening to steal the pretty curve of his mouth.

“What?” Harry squeaked.

Louis put his hands on his hips, almost challenging Harry to look again, “I said...my eyes are up here.”

Harry felt something electric pass between them. He felt the need to take a step forward, call Louis’ bluff, see if he was more bark than bite.

Biting sounded really fun right about now.

OR a five-times fic where two guys, one college dorm room and a faulty door lead to a few embarrassing situations and finding out more about themselves and each other than they ever bargained for.

No One Else Will Do (13k)

Harry visibly takes a deep breath. “I’ll do it. I’ll…help you through your heat.” He looks more determined now as he stands up straighter and his eyes look at Louis more intensely.

“Yeah?” Louis doesn’t mean to sound so surprised but he’s sort of in a state of shock. He’s never been with an alpha before, and the fact that his first time is going to be with Harry— his best friend— well, he couldn’t really ask for anyone better if he’s honest.

It takes Louis’ early heat for Harry and Louis to figure things out.

End of the World Tonight (12k)

“You remember when you told me that you wanted to live with me for the rest of your life?” Louis asks. His voice trembles a bit, exposing exactly how much he hates what he’s about to do. How much he wishes that he wasn’t about to do it.

“I remember,” Harry says. His expression is a little lost, like he thinks that they’re about to have a fight and he’s not sure what they’re supposed to be fighting about. Louis closes his eyes because he has to, has to take a second to regain his courage. He can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep suffering, can’t keep killing himself trying to hide this. He’s ready. He’s been ready for a long time.

one more for the stars (16k)

It's different, and Louis knows that, because Harry's got so much riding on this - a career and a future and his whole life. There's talk of him going first overall in the draft, of entering the NFL after only two years in college, of going to New York or Seattle or Green Bay, and Louis wants to be there for him, wants to support him and help him make decisions, but he also kind of wants to pin him to the bed and cry and scream, What about me what about me what about me?

(au. Harry's the star quarterback and Louis is about to graduate. It's a heartbreak waiting to happen.)

ain't going backwards, won't ask for space. (17k)

They've been best friends for eight years, but have never acted on the sexual tension that's existed between them. And when they do, it's completely impossible to stop the feelings that arise from denying themselves of what was always meant to be.

or the one where two idiots fall in love after years of being just best friends.

kiwi (24k)

With a stuttered mixture of a laugh and a groan, Harry lets his head droop, pushes his forehead against Louis’ chest and leans into him, fingers curled around the railing.

"You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes.

Louis lets out a puff of laughter, and when Harry lifts his eyes, the look in Louis’ gaze is one he knows too well, so distinctively coy and mischievous and gently charming, his lips quirked up with a smirk. Harry’s heart falls into the palms of his playful hands. “You’re into it.”

AU. Harry plays on Saturday nights at The Motley. Louis bartends on Saturday nights at The Motley.

It’s a thing.

Counting The Steps Between Us (24k)

AU. So, yeah. That year abroad helped Harry establish that he is in love with his best friend. Now, if Louis would stop treating him like a little brother, that would be awesome. (Additional ingredients: a collapsing tree house, a lot of pining, the other three boys as Louis' new best mates from university, and a camping trip. Serve hot.)

everything comes back to you (29k)

Louis lets out a shuddering breath. “I love you,” he says.

“Fuck you,” Harry replies.

“You know that I’ve always loved you,” Louis continues, not stopping to acknowledge what Harry’s said.

Harry shakes his head. “I know, but sometimes I wonder if that ever went past us just growing up together. We were never apart Louis, never for so many years, and the minute we were you just left me. So sometimes, when I let myself think about it, I think maybe that’s why we don’t work. You were just so used to loving me because you didn’t know anything else.”

Louis and Harry, best friends since before either of them can remember, broke up four years ago. Louis has achieved his dreams of becoming the next big thing while Harry has stayed back, dedicating himself to his studies. Both are content to forget what they had together, until a tragedy brings them right back into each other's lives.

Show me wealth, I’ll show your heart (30k)

Harry knows the value of money. He knows how to negotiate numbers, knows its worth in engines, and knows the amount he needs to secure for his business. What he didn’t know was that, if spent wisely, money is the one thing he really doesn’t need.

Or AU where Harry has more money than he can handle, Louis can’t handle not having any, and they both find out the greatest wealth isn’t countable.

the beginning of everything (30k)

“How do you take it?” Harry asked, pouring tea into a cup.

“Just a dash of milk, please,” Louis cast a look over the small table, filled to capacity. “They’re very fond of you.”

Harry ducked his head, grinning. “They’re trying to impress you.”

Louis smiled, shaking his head. “Why would they want to do that?” he asked as he took the cup Harry passed to him, their fingers brushing for an instant.

“Empathy,” Harry said under his breath.

A Belle Époque AU set (mostly) in Paris in which Harry is a struggling artist, in more ways than one, and Louis is a successful theatre critic and a failed writer, more or less.

You’re the Light (31k)

Before beginning a new graduate school in the fall, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend the summer working in Chicago as an editor’s assistant for the Chicago Tribune newspaper and staying with his old college roommate. What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

Follow Your Heart (32k)

“What do you mean exactly?” Harry asks. Louis’ heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. His stomach is sinking, and he’s holding his breath waiting for the words he knows are coming.

“We think it would be best to market you guys as a couple,” Simon tells them. The tone in his voice makes Louis think there’s no wiggle room to even try to argue about it.

Louis’ heart stops and his breath hitches. This cannot be happening. This has to be some sort of dream. Actually this has to be some sort of prank, really. He absentmindedly looks around the room for any evidence of hidden cameras or microphones to no avail.

“You’re kidding,” Louis says flatly. Louis is pretty sure a lot of the music industry these days likes to hide the fact that an artist isn’t straight, afraid that it might affect record sales and now he’s sitting in the middle of an executive label meeting being told he had to be in a relationship with his best friend–who’s a boy he’s been secretly in love with for most of his adolescence–in order to sell records? What kind of alternate universe level bullshit is he living in?

(your heartbeat) rang true inside my bones (32k)

Harry goes as Louis’ date for a weekend wedding. He ends up taking the role a bit too seriously.

“Hey,” Harry hears himself say just as Louis climbs back into the car. He ducks down, holding onto the roof to look at Louis who cocks his brow at him and says, “What?”

“I meant it,” Harry starts. “Like, I’d do it. I’d be your date for the wedding. If it’d make you feel less awful about being there and if you want me to, I’ll do it. I promise I’ll be good.”

you burn with the brightest flame (42k)

Harry frowns, thinking that he shouldn’t have to be glad about what gender he is, just like omegas shouldn’t have to be scared and nervous that anyone they meet might want to hurt them. He wonders why none of this occurred to him before, how he possibly could’ve just sailed through life before this without realizing how fortunate he was being born a beta. That seems a bit too serious of a conversation for Simon Cowell’s waiting room, though, so Harry puts an arm around Louis’s shoulders and teases, “You say that like you’re old or something. Two years isn’t that big of a difference!”

“Tell me that when you’re eighteen and looking back on this conversation,” Louis says.

“Well that’s - that’s different, isn’t it? We could be anywhere in two years, we could be famous.”

Louis’s eyes light up, his smile widening. “You think so?”

…or, the X-Factor Era A/B/O fic.

Cupid’s Chokehold (35k)

But - naively, stupidly, blindly - Harry holds out hope for a love that’s written across the stars. He can’t give up the feeling that there’s someone out there, waiting for him.

He’s just going to have to wait for them, too.

Or: Louis is a Cupid who tries to match up Niall and Harry. It doesn’t work out as planned.

Wonderwall (43k)

Taking the sheet cluttered with times available for the next few weeks, Louis notices a pattern in the list. The name of the person Perrie had just mentioned: Harry Styles. It’s written at least seven times, and three of which are during timeframes Louis wants.

“Who the fuck is Harry Styles?”

“You’re about to find out,” she answers, pointing over Louis’ shoulder.

Or a Love/Hate College AU where Louis Tomlinson is the lead singer of The Rogue - the most popular band on campus - and Harry Styles is the talented Freshman unknowingly challenging all that.

Let Me Touch You Where Your Heart Aches (46k)

Alcohol was all he could taste. Alcohol and Harry, and he didn’t mind one bit. Harry kissed him back with just as much fervent heat. He pushed Louis against the taxi door and pulled his head back, breathing hot and heavy against his lips. “Let’s go, yes?”

Or a Friends with Benefits AU, in which Louis falls in love and Harry is jealous. There is some Karaoke singing somewhere in there, because how do you write a romantic comedy without a Karaoke scene?

Some Things Take Root (50k)

AU. Louis’ ex doesn’t get jealous of anyone besides Harry. Harry helps Louis use that to his advantage.

Love's On The Line, Is That Your Final Answer? (53k)

Harry can’t believe it when Louis, the boy he’s always had a tempestuous rivalry with, asks him to be his boyfriend. Well, pose as his boyfriend, that is—for a new television game show in which young couples are quizzed on how well they know each other for a jackpot of thirty grand.

Reluctantly, Harry agrees—because he's got student loans to pay off, hasn't he? What's the harm? And he can totally deal with keeping his secret thing for Louis under wraps too. This is all just to win some money. It's fine. No big deal. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, everything. Obviously.

Amazing Sin (56k)

Gears started turning in Louis’ head. Purely mischievous gears that had Louis formulating a revenge plan against Taylor. He’d had enough of sitting around and taking it. If she was going to call him a whore, then fine, he’ll act like one for real. “I’m going to say something, and as my friends you are obligated to love me anyway.”

“This can’t be good,” Niall said, Zayn just groaned.

“So I know we have this strict ‘no lashing back at Taylor’ rule with me, but what if I can get press revenge a different way?” Louis asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer, because they knew by now to just go with it. “What if I stole her boyfriend?”

Or, the story of Louis ‘Steal Your Man’ Tomlinson.

Strawberries & Cigarettes (71k)

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

Pinkies Never Lie (83k)

“I just think if we’re both into it and neither of us is looking for something serious, why not?” Harry asks, eyes soft and voice sweet. He pauses and gives Louis a moment or two to answer.

There are countless reasons why Louis shouldn’t agree to this, but in the end, none of them really matter. This will end with Louis in pieces, but he’s been in love with Harry for four years. There was only ever one answer.

“Yeah,” Louis answers finally, hoping his voice sounds normal. “Why not?”

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

You Drive Me Crazy (but it feels alright) (102k)

Bridget Jones’ Diary AU.

“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

Louis breaks away from his grip with a petulant huff and pushes him back with two fingers.

“You’re mocking me. Again.”

Harry smiles and it’s a real honest swoop of his lips this time. Louis’ stomach swoops with them.

A Taste of Desire (104k)

“As forward as I have been with you this evening, I am also aware this dinner party isn’t the place to conduct business.” Mr. Tomlinson chuckles quietly to himself, shooting a subtle glance across the table towards their hostess. “And besides, I am sure our hostess would be horribly disappointed to learn that we went away this evening with a business agreement and not a mating one.”

Harry, who had been sipping his wine, coughs harshly at this. He splutters, unaccustomed to such blatant statements about mating.

Mr. Tomlinson continues to laugh quietly, clearly pleased at Harry’s reaction.

“Mrs. Humphreys promised that there was an alpha attending the dinner tonight that I would certainly get on well with,” Mr. Tomlinson continues, voice teasing. “She assured me that we would have much in common since we both work with mills.” Mr. Tomlinson glances at Harry, eyes flashing with mirth. “Little did she know that would be where our mutual interests began and ended.”

Or, a Victorian ABO where Harry is the owner of the most successful cotton mill in Manchester, and Louis is an opinionated social activist about to disrupt Harry’s world.

falling into you (143k)

In the grand scheme of adolescence and boyhood, Harry was still working himself out, so far with little luck. But four things he could say for certain: 1) he'd been at the top of his class all through primary and secondary school, 2) he was the shittiest alpha to ever walk the earth, 3) Liam Payne never let him forget it, and 4) he’d been in love with this boy, Louis Tomlinson, ever since he was fifteen years old.

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth (290k)

When Louis moves into the flat next to Harry’s, neither of them thinks it will change their lives. Louis is stuck in a relationship with his controlling and overly possessive boyfriend who he loves too much to break up with. Harry is content, seeking refuge from the snobby world he grew up in and forging a new path for himself. He does happen to have a habit of wanting to fix people though and when he meets Louis, the gorgeous man with a prat of a boyfriend, he finds himself trying to do just that. While Harry tries to avoid getting tangled in a messy situation, Louis tries to deny that there’s a niggling voice in the back of his head that prefers Harry to his own boyfriend. While both determinedly refuse to let change come, they fail to notice that exact force wrapping around them and pulling them tighter together until there just might be no escape from the feelings brewing within.

#larry stylinson #larry stylinson fic rec #larry fic rec #jealousy #jealous harry #masterpost

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roman-lynn-blog · 5 years

Text

Reconnection || Romper

Where: Pop’s Diner When: December 18, late night Warnings: Brief mentions of drugs Word Count: 3,573

Roman in bold, Harper in italics

Harper hadn't been expecting to get a text from Roman any time soon, so when her phone had pinged and his name had popped up, she'd been beyond surprised. But he was still concerned about her, even after everything, and that warmed something in her and she found herself eager to see him. When Hunter finally returned home, armed with milkshakes, she carefully tapped out of Sebastian duty, and left her friend in her brother's more than capable hands.

She was too wired to walk to Pop's, choosing to drive there after shooting Roman a quick text to let him know that she was on her way. When she pulled up to the diner, she parked her car in an empty spot and walked inside, finding a booth in a far corner and sliding into it.

Once she was sitting and waiting, she realized how unusually rumpled she looked. The events of the past day or so had caught up to her. Her makeup had mostly flaked off, her hair was up in a messy knot instead of tidy like it normally was, and she was still wearing the clothes she'd been wearing at the hospital, still dirty from their trek through the forest to the paramedics. She cursed herself internally for not bothering to change, but before she could think anything else, the door to the diner was jingling open.

After a week or two of brooding, doing his best to push his unrelenting feelings toward Harper into a box labeled 'Don't be an idiot', Roman broke down and texted the object of his affection. It had taken a small army, a few threats, and one realization for him to muster up the courage to contact her. One thing that Darius had said stuck out in his mind; he couldn't keep pretending like Harper didn't mean anything to him. It was the furthest thing from the truth, despite only having gotten to know her for a little less than a month.

He was doing all he could to keep his expectations low and to keep from seeming desperate. He chose to keep it cool, playing it casual and close to his chest. When Harper had asked to see him though, he felt his heart skip a beat. She wanted to see him. He clearly hadn't fucked things completely up past the point of repair.

Once he received the text from Harper, letting him know she was on his way to Pop's, Roman could feel himself start to sweat. He changed his shirt and put on extra deodorant as he gave a grueling pep talk in the mirror. He threw on his jacket and rushed out the door, almost tripping over his own shoes as he went to start his bike. The ride was only a few short minutes and before he could let himself breathe, he was walking into the diner, the bell jingling above his head.

His eyes searched the building for Harper and he quickly spotted her sitting in a booth, looking as gorgeous as ever despite her unkempt appearance. The left side of his lips turned up into a smile and he coyly looked away. He nodded to Pop, a genuine sign of understanding that he wasn't there to cause trouble. As he strode over to the booth, Roman felt his confidence waver. He slid into the booth, opposite of Harper and looked up at her from under his eyelashes.

"Hi"

Harper looked up, and then looked back down at her hands as she spotted Roman entering the diner, feeling nervous all of a sudden. She reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear, and then glance back up as he slid into the booth across from her. His smile was infectious, and she found the corners of her own mouth pulling up too. "Hey," she replied quietly.

She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him until she was seeing him for the first time in days, and after the weight of everything that had happened, she found herself wanting to move to his side of the booth so that she could curl up against his side.

But she knew they probably needed to talk before she could do anything like that, so she put on her brave face and looked back up to meet his eyes. "How are you?"

Roman hated the immediate awkwardness that he felt as he sat down. The air surrounding their booth was stilted and stale and he couldn't help but fidget with the page of his menu as he took a glance at Harper. He could only imagine after the past week's events that she was exhausted, mentally and physically, especially being so close to the amalgam of drama.

He was much more concerned with how Harper was doing. He wanted to reach across the booth and take Harper's hand or better yet slide into the booth next to her and wrap his arms around her middle. His stomach turned, unsure as to where to even start given the question he was given. "I'm doing alright, given all the circumstances..", he started, his voice shaky. "I've got a lot on my plate right now, but trying to sift past all the bullshit. How--".

He was interrupted by the chipper tone of a waitress asking if they were ready to order. Normally, he would have shot the girl a glare, but he didn't have it in him. He quickly ordered a vanilla milkshake and a basket of fries, not really up to filling his stomach when it was balled up in knots. "..and whatever the lady wants. On me."

Harper nodded as Roman spoke. She could certainly relate to the sentiment. It had been a long few days. If it was rough for her, she supposed it was probably even worse for the Serpents, with some of them struggling with being homeless on top of everything else.

Before she could say anything, a chirpy Pop's server had bound up to their table. "Just a strawberry shake for me." She replied softly, shooting Roman a smile when he offered to pay for her. It was nice of him to do, even if it probably made more sense for her to be paying for whatever they ordered.

Once the waitress had scurried off, she turned back to Roman. "How are things going with the Serpents? You must have a lot on your plate, huh?" She rested her chin on her hands as she spoke, trying to look less exhausted than she felt as they spoke. Ugh, she just wanted to curl up in bed next to him and take a long nap, if she were being honest with herself.

Roman couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief once their waitress had left with their order. He was sure that every single person in the diner had been judging them, an affluent North Sider and a Serpent sharing a meal together late at night. It was just more kindling to the fire that was the rumor mill; things had gotten to be too much lately with the addition of some blog throwing shade every which way.

“The Serpents themselves are doing okay, there’s a few people we need to keep an eye on.” He thought about Julian, the kid who stumbled over the flash drive showcasing Sebrina Smythe’s death, and Geico, the seedy bastard who was shown on said flash drive, helping with the body. They were the only two that Serpent leadership was watching at the moment. It was more of a general South Side problem. “It’s hard with half of the community being homeless, living in basements or tents. I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible”

The waitress made her way back to their table, setting the milkshakes in front of them and the basket of fries in the middle. Roman politely thanked her, hoping she’d finally get the point and let them talk uninterrupted. He took a sip of his milkshake, before asking Harper the same.

“How’s things for you?”

Harper nodded as Roman explained the problems that were plaguing his community at the moment. It was hard to imagine so many people being out of homes with the cold weather bearing down on them, especially during the holidays. "You didn't burn the park down...there's no reason for you to blame yourself," she murmured softly.

She paused for a second, unsure, but then fought through her own insecurity to reach across the table. She took his hand and gave it a quick, hopefully-reassuring squeeze. "It'll get better soon, I can only hope."

The waitress interrupted them before she could say anything else, and she pulled he hand back as their drinks and the fries were placed on the table. "Thank you," she murmured, shooting the girl a tiny smile, before she turned back to Roman.

She idly played with the edge of the milkshake glass as she wondered how to answer his question, feeling tired all over again. "I mean...I haven't taken a swim in the river lately, so I'm doing better than a lot of people."

She shook her head. "It's all just felt like a whirlwind. I'm....pretty tired," she admitted. She was also craving a hit, but she didn't want to share that part with him.

Roman looked off to the side as he felt Harper's hand in his own for a brief second. He wouldn't allow himself to look at her, knowing that if he even stole one glance that he would fall for her more than he already had. Her hand was warm, just like the tone of her voice, but she didn't understand. There was a trickle effect starting from the incident at Crystal Lake to where things were now. The South Side would be in a much better position had he not let his feelings get in the way.

"Yeah, Dare's--", Roman took a moment to breathe, slightly rolling his eyes. "Dare is doing everything in his power to restore Sunnyside as quickly and efficiently as possible. It's tough though..for all of us."

Roman shoveled a few fries into his mouth, not realizing how hungry he actually was, as he gauged Harper's demeanor. He noticed that she was moreso playing with the milkshake glass than actually drinking it and he cocked his head as he listened.

For a moment, his heart sank with guilt as Harper quipped about not having taken a swim in the river. The only people who had done that as of late was himself, Darius, Sebastian, and poor Sebrina. He nervously moved his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed at his nape, biting his lower lip as his heart ached. He was an awful friend.

"I can only imagine that it's been just as crazy for you. No offense but you look....beat". Roman swirled one of his fries into the ketchup on his plate, not wanting to meet Harper's eyes. "I should apologize though...for being the biggest asshole on the planet."

"You guys are doing a really good job though. It can't be easy taking on leadership and then having to deal with all of this while you're trying to stabilize things from that standpoint too," she said, trying to reassure him. She couldn't imagine having the pressure of being responsible for so many people on her shoulders. "You'll get into the swing of things soon. Hopefully the drama can start to die down now that we know who really killed Bri and that information goes public."

She smiled a little as she watched him eat, trying to figure out what she was feeling herself. She wanted to be upset, the whole situation with Dare had been insane. But she really had missed his presence, and that made everything else sort of fall to the wayside.

"I feel beat," she admitted. "I'm exhausted but I can't sleep because I feel like I'm so responsible for everyone else. How can I rest when Charlie needs me, when Sebastian needs me, when Hunter needs me. Hell, even my fellow dancers need me. I can't just drop everything. It's selfish."

She shook her head, leaning forward a smidge to take his hand again. "I'm not going to pretend that whole thing with Darius wasn't insane. Because it kind of was," she trailed off, for a moment. "But at this point I'm too tired to be angry about it anymore. I should be apologizing too. I made some pretty cruel accusations when I thought....when I thought Bruce was the one that killed Bri."

Roman took in a heavy breath, the weight of the situation making him feel like his chest was being crushed. There was so much going on in there little town where there usually, at the very least, a false sense of normalcy. It was going to take a miracle for the South Side to get back to half of what it was before the fire. “I don’t know...”, he admitted, “I feel like we might not get back to normal. Riverdale—like, the town, I mean.”, he stumbled nervously.

He had been self-medicating a lot lately, weed and alcohol; none of the hard stuff. He felt like his whole world had turned upside down and he couldn’t find anything to anchor himself with. Not the Serpents. Not sex. Not Harper. Everything had changed.

Looking down at his hands that were fidgeting in his lap, Roman nodded silently as he listened to Harper’s admissions. His heart broke for her as it sounded as if she felt like she was letting everyone down. He knew what that was like, he just wouldn’t take his own advice. “You can’t do that to yourself though. You’ll drive yourself crazy trying to be what everyone else needs instead of being what you need.”

Letting himself look up, catching Harper’s gaze in his own, Roman felt his heart twinge. And then she grabbed his hand, and Roman felt like he could breathe again. His thumb brushed over hers, “I...get really jealous”, he confessed, biting his lip. “I have no right .” He brushed the moment off with a shrug, feeling awkward for just a moment.

“Yeah, I—I don’t know. I hate that you felt that way. Like, I could hurt you.”

Harper ran her free hand through her hair. "I hate that I feel like you're right. Like...things aren't ever going to be like how they were before." The thought scared her. Riverdale had always been so idyllic before all this...the only good part of all the changes was finding out that South Siders weren't as bad as she'd been led to believe. The rest...all nightmare worthy.

"I don't know what I need," she muttered, pausing to take an actual sip of her milkshake. "At least when I'm pouring all this energy into other people, I feel like I'm not completely useless. I can't fix any of this. but I can help the people I care about."

If she was being fully honest, Harper felt like she was drowning. The heroin was like a life preserver, keeping her head above the water...but Harper didn't know how long even that would keep her floating. She was too tense, too strung out, her mood was all over the place. She could hardly recognize herself. But she needed to keep going. Her friends needed her. Once things had calmed down, she'd ween herself off everything and it'd be fine.

At Roman's confession, she smiled a little, glancing back down at their joined hands, her face going red. "You didn't....but even if you did, you could've just asked. I would've told you the truth." She looked back up at him, biting her lip. "I don't want to come between you and him."

She squeezed his fingers, feeling a little ashamed of what she'd said. She'd been in panic mode, her mind whirling faster than she could understand. But she shouldn't have impulse texted. It was stupid. "I don't. I don't think you could hurt me. It was stupid of me to say that....I was just freaked out and scared and confused. But I know you wouldn't. I should've told you that then."

Still with her hand in his, Roman felt a sense of calm. Riverdale had descended into chaos with Mr. Smythe still not having been arrested, a rapist on the loose, no rhyme or reason given for Sebrina’s death, and no justice given for the Southsiders who lost their homes. But for two seconds, in that moment, Roman felt like he was where he needed to be.

Squeezing her hand, Roman pulled his lips into a half smile, “I just wouldn’t want to see you fizzle and get burnt out.” Roman sighed, he understood that he couldn’t have his hand in every pot. It was stressful to want to be there for someone or something, only to leave something else to the wayside.

“I—I’m sorry. My mind just conjures up the worst possible scenario and I just go with it, no questions asked. It was stupid...so fucking stupid. “ Roman clenched his jaw, still not over the guilt. “He isn’t—“, he paused, “You won’t.”

Roman’s breath hitched, as Harper continued her apology. His stomach turned as he remembered his most recent conversation with Darius as well as the last thing he had said to Harper. His life was already complicated and messy, he didn’t want to fuck hers up along with it. “I could..”, he said, as he voiced one of the things that most frightened him about pursuing a relationship with Harper.

Harper stole a french fry from the plate with her free hand, shooting him a playful smile as she popped it into her mouth. "I'll do my best. I'm a girl of many talents," she joked. "We'll soon find out if juggling is one of them."

She squeezed his fingers again. Part of her kind of loved that he was willing to go that far for her. It was kind of thrilling, and it made her feel wanted, and in a scenario where he actually had a reason to be staking his claim, she'd kind of have loved it. How could she be angry at him for long? Darius was doing a lot better, all in all, it could've been a lot worse. "It was...but...it's kind of sweet in a fucked up sort of way. Like...I was mad but...if Dare's over it, there's no reason for me not to be. Just...use your words next time."

Harper turned his hand over in hers, absently drawing a pattern into his palm. He was right. He could hurt her. But Harper had already been hurt so many times. Wasn't this worth the risk of being hurt again? "I trust you enough to know that if you did...it wouldn't be on purpose. And that's what matters to me. Intentions. And I know in my heart that your intentions are good."

Harper had no idea how difficult it was for him to put into words what he was feeling. When it came to her, his body moved three steps faster than his brain. In terms of the incident, his body was already hauling Darius’ ass into the river while his brain was trying to rationalize his feelings. He wouldn’t let that happen again, at least not when it came to Darius. He could trust him, especially when he had been entrusted with such an enormous secret.

Roman sucked down a third of his milkshake, playing with the rim of the glass as Harper spoke. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, but things happen, and there was no guarantee about anything anymore. “Promise.”, he said reassuringly, nodding his head.

“You want to head out? I’m sure you could use the sleep since you’re back on stage.” Harper took another sip of her milkshake, before smiling at his words. She trusted Roman, implicitly. She was certain, in her heart and soul, that he would never go out of her way to hurt or harm her. That belief was enough for her to want to push all her other doubts aside. She squeezed his fingers and nodded. "Yeah. I'm pretty beat. I'm glad you came though." She finished off her milkshake before getting to her feet.

"I missed you," she admitted. She was feeling needier than she was used to, but she swallowed her pride to make her request. "Stay with me tonight?"

Roman finished off the last few fries on their shared plate and sucked down the last of his milkshake. He squeezed her hand once and finally let go, solely so he could pull out his wallet from his back pocket. He pulled out a twenty and nodded to the onlooking waitress, garnering her attention. “Keep the change”, he told her with a smile, his eyes need leaving Harper’s.

Once the waitress had thanked them and left their table, Roman stood up, extending his hand towards Harper. “I missed you too, gorgeous.” Grasping her hand and interlacing their fingers, he smiled. “I can do that”

Harper smiled, warmth blooming in her once Roman took her hand. She was glad that they were okay. She'd been really worried about it for a few days there, and she hadn't realized how intertwined their lives had become. She had hated not speaking to him. "Take me home, Rome," she breathed out, before leaning in to finally press their lips together.

#(harper.)#(para 08.)

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maiya-da-boss · 4 years

Text

Kanye West - Last Call

It’s just playing in the mix right now and I don’t know what else to name this prompt. I pulled this phone out of a box of chords last night and I thought that it was factory reset, but it wasn’t. I’m surprised, disappointed , and bummed out after turning it on. I’m writing this for me, because maybe Ill feel better just getting some feelings off my chest. I don’t have anyone to talk to. I wish I was able to see my friends before they moved away from Fredericksburg. It’s really hard trying to make and find friends in the area with COVID going on. Scratch that, I’m too old to make friends and meet new people I should be focusing on a house or something.

Maggie wanted to talk to me last night I’m sure she knew I was bummed , but after turning on the phone I just got upset and went to bed. I have so much to write about, I feel like I could pen a book. I wish maiya was there for me, but she thinks the worst of me. I look down at that scar whenever I shower. I’m so embarrassed about the fact I’ll have to explain that to the next woman I’m with. I think manifestation is real too. I read she said that she’s been feeling off and I wonder if it’s because I’ve been thinking so hard about her. I really am trying to send those vibes out. She doesn’t have to hate me the way she does, I feel like the people around her made her that way. After what I read what avian said about me, I know that to be true. I wish that dude would put his hands on me. What a selfish person. I feel like he told maiya to leave me that night so that he can have her uninterrupted again. What perfect timing of him to take advantage of her emotions. Disgusting. Never woulda happened had I not slapped maiya so ultimately that’s my fault.

The whole court thing was fucked because now it’s like I’m in the wrong for trying to reconcile our feelings. Jail because of a relationship. Real jail for reaching out to who I thought to be my best friend and confidant. This is so fucked I wish we could have went to like a relationship therapist. Maiya thinks I got a “slap on the wrist”. Smh. I’m back in the nightmare jail system. I’m on fucking probation. This is wack as shit. I’d rather just went to fucking jail and did my time. I have to come back to Spotsylvania Virginia in 2022 to get this bullshit dropped. I’m not saying what I did wasn’t bad, but by no means was it terrible. I’m glad it wasn’t any worse than it was. I wish I had a time machine. I wish I could change the past. It sucks waking up and that being your reality. It almost feels like it’s not real. But it’s very real. I’m so hurt I wish I could just message maiya but she wants me in jail. Imagine just messaging her a meme and the cops knock on your door to take you to jail. It would almost feel like a nightmare, but it’s real. It shouldn’t be this hard, but it is.

They say “you don’t know how good you got something till it’s gone”. Damn true okay I want my boo back cause man this sucks.

She went right back to doing drugs, meanwhile I’m on probation. I wish she stayed sober but not everyone feels the same about drugs. She’s entitled to enjoy what she wants. I tried so hard to not like indulge in drugs while we dated and it’s like as soon as we break up her sobriety means nothing to her.

The fact I found out she’s stalking savanna is a real disappointment. Savanna is a piece of trash. What a terrible way to spend your time. I ain’t never honestly have any real feelings for savanna relationship wise and maiya for whatever reason think I did. It was never a competition and I feel like she felt like it was. Granted I may have texted some foul things but the in person vibe is a way different one. That’s part of what made our friendship special I think. I’m glad I stopped fuckin with savanna though I really am, she was such a bum. I wish she’d take me off her social media’s, she only puts me up to make herself look cooler and at least somewhat desirable.

It’s crazy how i get called crazy for trying to hit up my ex girlfriend who ment the whole world to me, but she’s out here studying witchcraft and stalking my old platonic friend. OK. I can’t blame her for the witchcraft or magic, It’s real but I gave all that up years ago. Evil energies can be manifested and utilized. She doesn’t understand why I said the disrespectful shit I did to savanna. The cringe factor was part of our conversational entertainment. We’d often say mean or nasty things to each other for shits and giggles. That was established years before I met maiya. Women are jealous creatures.

I wish she didn’t feel so insecure. I didn’t mean to help flame that fire. It’s really hard to not think about how much I fucked my life up.

All I ever wanted was that golden marriage and a 50 year anniversary with the cookout and family everywhere. When she told me she was maybe pregnant, I was shocked, but also ecstatic. To be a good father feels like the most important goal in life and I was so excited to start on that. I thought I was gonna be a daddy. Wtf. I wonder if she was pregnant and the accident she had in the Uber killed our baby. Did we have a baby at one point? Did I have a living being that never saw the light of day? Did she have a miscarriage? I’ll never know.

I can’t believe what I read last night: some guy that just got out of prison ? Ducking kms. That really makes me feel like trash. What a downgrade on her part. I know I’m better than that. That’s been on my mind since we broke up : “who’s she going to be with”. I wish I didn’t turn on the phone.

The lawyer told me “look man,write the bitch off”. That was extremely crude. I wish i was strong enough to think like that. I wish I was strong enough to think like that so that I could do something with myself. Sitting around dead inside everyday doesn’t feel good. I can’t remember the last time I genuinely smiled about something. Living at my dads house isn’t the life I wanted to live.

It feels like a bad dream I wish I could just wake up from. I just wish I could wake up and it was all a big bad dream. My dad always said that they don’t make an instruction book on life. I didn’t know what to do, I made a bad decision. I wish it didn’t bring Maiya so much pain inside. I wish she didn’t get upset when I messaged her. It’s really hard just being alive sometimes. I hate living with my dad and I haven’t seen my mom since I wrecked my car. I feel like such a loser for wrecking my car. I should’ve just ignored my phone.

I wish a lot of things, but I can’t change the past. Only work on the future.

Maiya messaged me and said she doesn’t want me to go to jail. Come to find out she messaged me because she wanted to talk. She can talk to me at any time, I wish she would. I can imagine her talking to me stirring up negative feelings though and I get that. I don’t know if it would help us or not. She thinks I’m the “same ol piece of shit” , but I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know myself. I barely use the computer I bought and biking doesn’t fill the void in my heart. Chasing booty isn’t thrilling anymore. Getting laid without the love isn’t fun. It makes me miss maiya and like the connection we had. Hanging out with new people doesn’t feel fun because I’d rather hang out with the person I was building with.

I miss all the little things we used to do, and I wouldn’t dare do that with anyone else, because it just doesn’t feel right. Falling in love with her made me a sappy bitch. I don’t want to date again for a long time because I don’t want to be hurt like this again. I feel depressed every day I can only imagine that my brain looks like a raisin. It feels like one. My feelings are utterly decimated. I feel numb and upset.

My dad pretty much makes fun of me at this point for being so upset about maiya still. It hurts my feelings a lot. Throughout this whole process I’ve been expected to just brush her off like she never even happened in my life. She did happen though and she was a big part of it. Her crazy made me this way. The way she cared about me was the best and I just want to give it back. I wish she’d just have a heart to heart with me.

My day begins. I need to get out of this mood I’m in so that I can have a good day today. Lord give me the strength I need to get through the day. Lord, please take care of Maiya. I hope that you can bless us with patience, acceptance, and forgiveness. Lord give me the strength to not do anything stupid that will jeopardize my freedom and Lord give me the strength to smile again.

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