#flashing back to middle school band fighting to be the first one to answer a question so we could get a band buck | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

larryjohnsonsbitch · 3 years

Text

Possesive!Larry x reader

i said it would be out tomorrow but i’m god so it’s here now haha

let me know if you would like me to make one with gender neutral pronouns

word count: 2593

she/her pronouns

Warnings: smut, alcohol, possesive behaviour, sal x reader kiss,

You had been dating Larry for a while now, he’s your first boyfriend and you couldn’t be happier with him. He always comes to your work during your breaks and even sits down at a table and orders drinks while he waits you to finish your shift, so there he sat now looking at you so tenderly it made your heart race. He had been here for around 2 hours, ordering various drinks while switching between watching you and going on his phone, the only thing you worried about was how long he had been waiting for you, and that you still had another hour ‘till knock off. So, you continued serving tables and taking orders, making sure he was okay when you could to which he’d reply “I love you enough to wait” with a squeeze of your arm, it didn’t really answer the question but nothing stopped him from leaving so it stayed like that until you finished and as you took of the apron which the restaurant made you wear you felt a pair of arms around your waist and a face nestling into your neck, you laughed. Spinning around to face him and peck his cheek. “I don’t like you talking to all those guys” he pouted “why can’t you just stay with me” he finished the sentence with a kiss to your head and you had never felt more loved.

“I would love to stay with you, Larry, but I have to work so I can pay rent” you smiled, setting down the apron, taking his hand in yours and lightly squeezing it. “lets go, love”

You and Larry walked back to the apartments, hand in hand, until you reached his room. Flopping down on the bed he opened his arms for you to come cuddle him, you happily obliged settling between his legs, your head on his chest as you listened to his heart, his hand made its way to your hair tugging on some strands as he brushed through it with his fingers. “I’ve seen all of you and your flaws ,I still love all of you so much” he said into your hair “I don’t think many others would”

The sentence sat wrongly in your stomach, you couldn’t tell why though. He was right. Not many people would love you flaws and all. So in response you lifted your head, pressed a kiss to his lips

“I know” you said lips still so close you could feel his breath.

The two of you laid like that for hours before Larry spoke again. “Sal invited me over for a movie tomorrow, I want you to come too seems its your day off. I hate when we’re apart” you agreed to go and before you knew it you were asleep, nestled closely to Larry.

The next day you and Larry were at Sal, Todd and Neil’s place snacks in hand, Larry’s arm was around your waist as you waited for Sal to answer the door. Todd and Neil were out for a date for the day so Sal had the place to himself. The front door opened revealing Sal, his hair down and mask on but with the lower straps unbuckled to allow him to eat, he stepped back allowing you and Larry through the door. “hey guys, good to see you” you couldn’t se his face but you assumed he was smiling by the way his mask moved upward. You walked inside Larry’s hand on your waist felt much tighter now.

“yeah dude, wouldn’t miss watching a horror movie with you man” Larry said while making himself comfortable on the couch in front of the tv, snacks discarded on the coffee table, the horror you were about to be watching was sitting beside them , ‘Scream’ it had been released earlier this year but you had never gotten around to seeing it. Sal came over sitting beside Larry, putting himself in the middle, you sat beside him turning to look at Larry he looked a little annoyed.

“you alright, love?” you asked, trying to make sure he was alright.

“come here” he said his voice was soft but far too stern, your eyebrows perked up as you got up going to stand in front of him awkwardly, he grabbed your hands a little too hard as he pulled you into his lap. You were shocked as he wrapped his arms around you caging you in, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“how’s your day been dude” Larry asked Sal, Sal seemed just as surprised as you were, his ears were red. He was probably embarrassed to be sitting right next to Larry as that happened.

“uh, uhm, alright I guess” he said, grabbing the movie and putting it into the DVD player. “are you guys going to that party on Saturday?”

“I mean I would like to..” You looked to Larry, you wanted to go but wouldn’t go if he wasn’t coming.

Larry obviously got the hint as he said “Yeah, it’d be cool to see everyone” and that was the end of the conversation. You each settled in, getting comfortable as Sal pressed play on the movie

The movie was great and you all ended up more comfortable at the end of it, despit the multiple scares you had.

“oh yeah! Sal you just got the Nintendo 64, right?” you said, you nearly completely forgot to ask, you had heard Larry mention it briefly and you wanted to see if Sal would let you come over so you and him could play together sometime.

“yeah, I did, why? You wanna play sometime?” he asked

“omg, yes please! I was gifted Mario Cart but I haven’t been able to play it yet” you pouted and Sal laughed “but yeah I’d love to play it together if that chill with you?” you hardly noticed Larry grip tightening around your hips as you talked.

“yeah, that’d be awesome! Come ‘round whenever, you’re always welcome” you smiled at the words and he rubbed the back his neck; that’s when Larry started lightly biting the sweet spot on your neck, your back arched and you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to stop any sounds. Your face was hot and you felt far too embarrassed to stay in the room.

“i-I-I I’m just gonna quickly go to the bath-bathroom” your words struggled to come out smoothly due to the embarrassment. You quickly rushed to the bathroom; hands braced against the bathroom sink as you tried to calm down. Once your face was no longer burning and your heart and breathing were steady once more you stood up as straight as you could and walked out hearing the hushed whispers of Sal and Larry, they were fighting. You didn’t wanna intrude but it was hard not to let curiosity beat you.

“dude, I don’t like her what the fuck, I would never do that” it was Sal

“why were you eye-fucking her since we walked through the door then” Larry was angrier than you had heard him before.

“I wasn’t, dude, I don’t know what’s going on but you can’t just embarrass a girl like that, she looked ready to cry before”

“so you do like her?”

“what! NO!” they weren’t whispering and you decided to make them stop by heading back to te bathroom and yelling back to them.

“you guys aright out there?” Larry was the one who answered

“yeah babe but I think we should get going now, I forgot that my mum asked me to help out with putting up a shelf”

“okay then” you walked back out to them, smiling, they couldn’t know that you had heard them. Sal was refusing to even look at you, you held onto Larry’s arm “thanks so much, for inviting us we had a lot of fun, right babe?” you tugged softly on Larry’s arm.

“yeah, sure” he rubbed his neck with his free hand and looked anywhere but at Sal.

“it was no problem, thanks for coming” you felt bad for leaving with Larry while they were on such bad terms but there wasn’t much else you could do. The entire walk back to the apartments Larry was pouty, stealing kisses when he could. As you got back he went to Lisa reluctantly following through with his lie to leave Sal’s. it was only an hour before he was back with you in his room listening to Sanity falls and acting like nothing was wrong.

…

You could hear the music and see the flashing lights of the party from a few houses away, you and Larry walked hand in hand, He squeezed three times ‘i.love.you’ you smiled squeezing back. It was a comfortable silence around you two, you had already talked about your days’ and what you planned to do tomorrow and your plans to move in together once you’d saved up enough money. It was nice, knowing you weren’t going to have to face all the new adult stuff you had to do now you were 20 and fully out of school, alone. As the party came into view you could see most people were already wasted, red cups littered across the lawn along with steamers and someone’s pants. You laughed at the sight; it was a bigger party than you had originally expected but you had no doubt you would at least know most the people there considering how small Nockfell was.

The music was some upbeat pop band and the house was smelt like beer and sweaty bodies. People were dancing and you and Larry had to force yourself through the crowd, it took a while but you eventually found the gang, even ash was there. You hugged each of them, complimented ash on her new hair and you all fell into conversation but the tension between Sal and Larry was obvious. Larry stopped you from drinking saying that he just wants you to be sober and that the alcohol isn’t good for you even as he made his way through his own drinks and after two hours the gang -minus Todd and Neil who had disappeared into a random bedroom earlier- and some kids you went to school with were in a game of spin the bottle. Larry and Sal sat opposite you and ash was a couple people away so far neither you, Larry or Sal had had to kiss anyone and it was soon Sals turn, he leaned forward spinning the bottle, it spun around quickly but a few seconds later it slowed. Landing on you.

The tension in the air was thick and you expected Sal to spin again, but he looked between you and Larry, once and then again; and just like that he was in front of you a hand to your cheek, he lifted his mask enough for his lips to show; you could feel him shaking through the hand on your cheek, your heart was hammering and you were to shocked to do anything but sit and desperately hope he was joking, but his lips brushed yours and then he pressed a soft kiss to you lips.

Larry had stood up, pushing Sal out of the way and grabbing your wrist tightly enough to bruise, he dragged you through the crowd of people and kicked people out of the bathroom before pushing you in and locking the door behind himself.

“Larry? I’m so sorry I was too shocked to move and i-“you were against the wall, Larry’s hands beside your head. He kissed you. It was burning, different to before, he was burning, and you would burn with him. His tongue was in your mouth exploring ever crevice of you, his knee rubbing between your legs

“can i?” despite the alcohol and anger, he cared enough to ask. You nodded

Pushed against the bathroom wall, the heat between your legs growing hotter as Larry licked a line up your neck stopping just before your ear where he softly bit your earlobe, you bucked your hips up to him trying to get any friction against your core. He chuckled in your ear his voice deep and arousing, it sent shivers down your spine as he started sucking and biting at your neck while he trailed one hand down your chest to the waist of your pants. You wrapped your arms around his neck, a hand through his hair softly tugging at strands, he groaned as he trailed his hand down further; you could feel his fingers through the fabric of your pants and desperately tried to get him to touch you more.

“such a needy little thing…” he whispered into your ear before removing your pants, he lifted your leg, holding it just under the underside of your knee. “up”. You happily obliged jumping up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he caught your other leg pressing you harder against the wall to keep you up.

You could feel his length through his jeans and you grinded against it moaning softly as you did. “fuck” his hand slid upward to your inner thigh just below where you need him.

“tell me how much you need me” he growled, and the dark look in his eyes wasn’t like any expression you’d seen him make before. It was hot. So hot. Your arousal was dripping between your legs, you needed him like he was some form of drug and you loved it.

“I need you” you panted “so bad, Larry, please fuck me” you rolled your hips against his to emphasize and just like that something snapped in Larry. Within a couple movement his pants and boxers were at his ankles and his erection ready to enter your dripping sex, pre-cum leaked through the slit and tip was a gorgeous red. You stoked it lightly and Larry’s head tipped back, a moan echoing through the bathroom. His grip on your hips tightened and he positioned himself at your entrance, he rested his head on your shoulder.

“mine, mine, mine, mine, mine” with each word he started thrusting into you, your head hit the wall and you couldn’t hold back the chorus of moans that escaped you, his name fell off your lips like a prayer and he only went harder as you got louder.

His finger circled your clit, his mouth leaving hickeys across your chest. Your tears stained your cheeks at the overstimulation he was giving you. “every time I see you talk to someone, I wanna kill them. You’re mine, mine!” he hit your g-spot with each word, your fingers clawed down his back leaving marks. The knot that had developed in your abdomen was ready to burst and as your eyes rolled back you were no longer capable of words, only senseless babbles.

“I love you, I’d die without you” he moaned, as you came around his dick; And seconds later he was shooting his load inside you. He didn’t slow down though, and as you grasped onto his shoulders panting from your orgasm you realized he would continue fucking you until you couldn’t move.

“Larry” you pressed your forehead to his, your lips brushing softly despite how hard he was slamming himself into you “I love you, I’m not leaving” a tear slipped from his eye landing on your chest. You knew why he was acting this way, he was scared you’d disappear, leave, like his dad and he would try and do everything in his power to make sure that you didn’t.

#sally face x reader #Larry x reader #Larry Johnson x reader #larry johnson #sally face #Larry Johnson x reader smut #sally face smut #smut

445 notes · View notes

dogtoling · 3 years

Text

Splatoon Biology: Inkling Expressions

Hi! It has been a while! We are here today to talk about Inkling communication, but specifically the visual side! (This also includes other coleoid cephalopods as well. Or at least any that we would classify as neon-colored shapeshifters such as the Squid. So, apply these to Octolings, Cuttlings, bobtail squid and whatever you may.) Facial expressions are a pretty niche thing in the animal kingdom. Like, just a handful of animals have them (notably including humans but you knew that already). Probably the majority of animals out there don’t even use visual communication, not to mention using it as their main way of communication, but even fewer jump through the hoops to develop the array of facial musculature needed for expressions. Well, we’re in luck, because cephalopods are part of that group of animals that are VERY visual when it comes to communicating. However... that doesn’t really answer the question of why specifically facial expressions. While cephalopods are very visual animals, they primarily communicate using color change, and the range and array of signals in the more social bunch (squid and some cuttlefish) can be VERY diverse.

(Examples of squid color patterns, used in communication within their school. Similar patterns can be seen in cuttlefish as well, as an example) As is pretty clear, color and shade is what the fellow squids are looking for when it comes to communication, not facial expressions. Among cephalopods, social squid and cuttlefish species have the most distinct and complex color patterns.

Although octopuses don’t seemingly have anything as complex in their arsenal, being mostly solitary animals, even they work with color change as a form of communication. While in octopuses, their color change is mostly used in camouflage to match their surroundings rather than signal something to their fellow cephalopods, they, too, have more basic signals based on color (and posture):

So now we come to Inklings. Why do Inklings have facial expressions to begin with? What about spoken LANGUAGE? If squid basically already have a language to begin with, what is the point of ditching it and developing another one? Interestingly enough, there is somewhat of an answer to this dilemma.

(Obviously, it has to do with Inkling evolution, which is depicted in-game)

So the squid, and likely most other cephalopods, evolved into upward-walking, humanoid species that depend largely on ink. The camouflage abilities of species such as octopuses and cuttlefish were likely reduced from being able to display complex patterns into being able to display bright, solid color, as that is what is REALLY needed and useful when it comes to camouflaging in ink. This also goes for the squid, but that shouldn’t say much, because even with simplified color-changing abilities, visual patterns depending on bands, spots or lines should be simple enough to keep around. Perhaps they still are, but they are present as only an aspect of the Inkling body language as opposed to The Whole Thing. So why CAN’T color change be the whole thing?

This next scroll helps us make the point a little better. As squid evolved into Inklings, they stayed social animals, but more importantly most likely started banding into small groups. Small groups of Inklings in the past likely lived together, hunted together and defended their territories from other groups together. Our first point comes with the hunting aspect. While hunting in a group, communication is like, REALLY important. When you’re all chasing down a prey animal or maybe even fighting back a predator, you’re really going to be focusing on the target rather than whatever polka dots or stripes your friend Larry is flashing 20 meters to the left. This raises the need for verbal communication - when you’re kind of busy watching something, you can still listen and shout out to your teammates in the situation. It still doesn’t explain verbal communication becoming the main way of communication. Sure, visual communication isn’t really an option in the middle of heated combat, but what keeps it from being viable outside of that? We must Once Again look back at the team system...

Something pretty obvious is the fact that even outside of camouflage, Inklings hold a solid color, this being their team color. Looking back at the pre-civilization Inklings likely living in small groups divided by their chosen ink color, it is pretty clear that tentacle color, at some point, became a broader way of communication - not to mention color change becoming more limited in general with Inklings losing the ability to control most of their skin tone at will. In short, tentacle color turned from fine-tuned expressions into showcasing which group you belong to. Inklings of the local Orange clan kept their signature orange color outside of battle- and camouflage situations, and the same went for the local Pink clan, for example. Color became something that you don’t just randomly change every five milliseconds.

This is where OTHER body language comes in. Believe it or not, aside from just color change, even modern-day cephalopods have body language besides just color change:

This is largely dictated by the position of the arms and mantle. A lot of this type of visual communication, such as tentacle positioning and changing the shade of rather than hue, likely still exists large-scale. This type of body language might be suffering to a degree, what with the youth with their cool snazzy tenta-cuts. In addition, Inklings are also likely to use their fins to communicate mood or tone as well, since they aren’t used for something like swimming that needs to be kept up.

Finally, let’s get to FACIAL expressions, which believe it or not modern-day cephalopods ALSO HAVE. Check this out:

(Caps from this video, check it out it’s so cool) Some cephalopods, in the higher-up set a cuttlefish, but also octopuses, dilate their pupils as a sign of aggression, often towards other members of the same species. It is unclear whether this is a sign on visual communication, or if it provides some kind of advantage, but it could be both. Either way, this is a sort of facial expression, one which is likely still well and alive in modern-day Inklings - and something that likely served as a basis for the facial expressions we see now (as, obviously, reading this signal requires you looking at the other guy’s face.) We have reached the end and the consensus here, so let’s do a quick recap: - Cephalings most likely lost their advanced color-changing abilities in favor of consistent, solid color - Tentacle color changed from being the primary form of communication to a secondary one at most, due to hue being assigned as a marker for your identity. - Facial expressions evolved into the primary form of visual communication, stemming from the somewhat universal eye shape tone indicator - Movement of tentacles and slight changes in color (light, dark, flashing et cetera) are most likely supporting body language to establish tone - The position of the fins matters. Thanks for coming to my ted talk, if you read all of this, thanks! Let me know what you think and if you agree! Or maybe you have additional ideas? Let me know also.

#woo woo new post dropped #squidthoughts #splatoon #splatoon biology

468 notes · View notes

tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: First Day

Summary:

“You usually don’t take time off,” Levi commented.

“I know."

“So why are you taking time off?”

“It’s our kid’s first day at school,” Hange responded in the most anticlimactic of manners. Yet, the knowing grin in her face didn’t fade.

Hange and Levi deal with their child's first day of school in different ways. Written for Levihan Week 2021, Day 1: School.

Link: AO3

Notes:

Levihan Week Day 1 Prompt: School, organized by @levihanweek.

This is kinda late because the past few weeks have been hectic but I've been trying to get back into writing regularly again since the long break I took after completing Lovebug.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Most mornings, Hange was out the door at six in the morning. Sometimes ten minutes after, sometimes five minutes after but never anything more than that. It was always a loud grand exit accompanied with footsteps, a clipped ‘see you later’ and a loud slam of the door.

So routine that Levi would never look back. That day was a little different. Ten minutes past six and it was utterly silent. The absence of such a loud and chaotic goodbye seemed to leave a more deafening echo.

Deafening silence, or the absence of what had been usually there, wasn’t the type of deafening that rang in his ears. It was the type of absence that seemed to tickle at the back of his ears, awakening a fighting instinct that had been long asleep. “You’re still here?” Levi asked.

She was quick to reply. “I asked for a half day at work today.” Quick and very casual.

“Oh really?” Levi responded.

Hange had always told him the day before if she were taking a leave. That day, such a small detail sent some alarm bells ringing inside him. He looked back to see Hange deftly flipping through a newspaper with just one hand, taking bites of bread with the other. “Yep.” She didn’t seem at all in any hurry to look up at him.

Levi narrowed his eyes at her, wondering if that was enough to make her feel any obligation to meet his eyes. It wasn’t. The newspaper must have been a very interesting subject. “You usually don’t take time off,” Levi commented.

“I know,” Hange said, her tone unchanging.

“So why are you taking time off?” Levi felt slightly ticked at having to articulate the question. It just wasn’t the natural flow of their conversations.

Hange chose that moment to look up, a wide grin on her face, a knowing grin. She put the newspaper down, took another bite of bread and her chews were larger, seemingly more exaggerated. She had a special talent. If she actually tried, she could hide what she was thinking even from someone who had known her more than half their life. “It’s our kid’s first day at school,” Hange answered in the most anticlimactic of manners. Yet, the knowing grin in her face didn’t fade.

Levi raised one eyebrow at her. He set aside the cutlery he had been organizing and settled in front of her. He took a slice of bread from the plate in front of him, bit into it and flashed his partner an expectant look.

It wasn’t every day Hange was there at half past six on a weekday and she looked like she was completely aware of it. “How do you feel about Luke’s first day?” she asked.

“All kids go to school. This isn’t really a big change,” Levi said in between bites of bread.

“Really? Not a big change?”

Levi paused for a second. It wasn’t a big change. That is, if he didn’t count the past few days spent looking through rows of school bags at the shop, if he didn’t count the daunting process of organizing stationary while just relishing the unnatural feeling of expensive school supplies to the touch. The underground city didn’t really have a lot of schools and consequently, Levi never had to worry about such a luxury growing up. “Luke will be in school so more peace and quiet.”

The conversation was surprisingly slow. The air between them seemed louder and seemed to be circulating a little faster than usual. It was a loud silence only broken when Luke came barging into the kitchen, big bag precariously propped on his back.

Levi was suddenly aware that he was taking his sweet time speaking and Hange was letting him.

The young boy gave him more than enough of an excuse to avoid that awkward silent interrogation. “Luke, what the hell is in your bag?”

“First day!” Luke said, in some attempt at protest maybe.

No, it was a protest definitely as Levi had made it his mini mission for the day to untangle the straps from under the young boys arms.

There was no way in hell he was letting his child go to school with such a disorganized death trap. The bag was comically round, stuffed to the point that pencils and markers were sticking out in weird places.

A chaotic mess. A death trap waiting to bite or more specifically, crush him.

There was still some attempt by the young boy to inject some organization into it. The stationary was organized in clusters. The crayons bunched on one side of the bag and pencils on the other. There were folded papers stuffed in the middle of the paper, and some snacks were stuffed towards the bottom of the bag.

“Luke, I told you, you can bundle your crayons like this.” He had gotten a rubber band and twisted it around the crayons and pencils, once then twice.

Levi was bringing out the items in bunches, lining them out on the table then stuffing them into the bag again, that time with a little more regard for aesthetic and functionality. Levi was creating shapes, very convenient shapes and he had made a puzzle out of the whole process of organizing a three year old’s school bag.

When he was done, all the supplies only occupied half the bag. He gestured at the organized bag in the same way he did every other time Luke would watch him clean. And the latter nodded understandingly, the same way he did every other time before. Enough for Levi to know, the boy had at least taken note of half the cleaning process.

That exchange between father and son was very much routine. Since the child was old enough to talk, Levi had taken great pains to teach the young boy organization. Sometimes though, there were hiccups in the whole process of teaching. And during those hiccups, Levi was reminded, Luke was Hange’s child too.

Suddenly curious about her reaction, Levi turned to his Hange. The latter was still sipping coffee as she watched. An amused look was etched on her face. “If you ask me, I think he did a pretty good job fixing his bag.”

***

Levi didn’t know he had been waiting for a climax until he found himself very disappointed at the denouement.

It just seemed too easy and Hange just seemed too happy and too laidback. By the school gates, they separated with hugs, some pieces of advice dumbed down for a three year old. Hange was usually the more talkative one but Levi found he was the one asking more questions, saying more than necessary.

“He’ll be fine, you know,” Hange said, her voice firm, her look almost admonishing.

Levi froze. He had only become more hyper aware of his uncharacteristic chattiness when Hange pointed it out herself.

I packed you a sandwich… I’ll pick you up at two… If you wanna go home early, just tell the teacher okay?

Were those words unnecessary for a kid? But Luke had to know right? Or at least his teacher? “Maybe we should talk to the teacher,” Levi suggested. "Just so they know us and they won't hesitate to contact us if—"

Hange shook her head. “He’ll be fine,” she said. “Look, he’s ready to go in already.”

Luke wasn’t crying. He wasn’t begging them to leave him alone. In fact, he had only turned back at them, waved one hand and shouted ‘bye!’ when he was already a good few feet away.

“Okay, I guess he’s fine then,” Levi said. If Luke and Hange both think it’s fine… He spun around, his back towards the school and he let out a stifled breath, some release for that disappointment and tension that had been raring to ooze out since that morning.

“I said, he’ll be fine,” Hange repeated. It was starting to get annoying.

“I knew that,” Levi retorted.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Levi shot her a venomous glare. “Okay, if you knew he’d be fine, then why bother taking a half day off from work to see him off?”

“Cause I was guessing… someone else wouldn’t be so fine,” Hange responded.

They had turned the corner from the school gates, to a narrow road a little emptier. Again, there was that knowing grin on her face and her face was only inches away from him. Consoling? Mocking?

No, it was definitely mocking. “Oh, who are you talking about?”

Hange didn’t respond. She looked away, just making it more apparent that she had been staring right at him.

“Who are you talking about Hange?” Levi pressed. He wasn’t stupid. The answer was right in front of him. But was it an answer he wanted to accept?

“I called a half day off from work. But I’m planning on going to the office today and working for an hour or so. Why don’t you come along? You should say hi to Armin and Mikasa, it’s been a while since you talked to them,” Hange said.

“I have to pick up Luke—”

“At two right?” Hange asked. “We won’t be in the office that long.”

“I need to prepa--”

“Prepare what?” Hange challenged. Her voice was firmer. She was walking ahead with longer strides, towards the path to her office, only a convenient few minutes away from the school. “You’re gonna be alone in the house you know.”

Alone in the house. Being alone wasn’t too big of a deal. Levi had lived alone a few times when he was in between roommates at the barracks. As captain, he conveniently got his own room. That felt like a lifetime away though.

The past few years were easier to look back at. When Hange was at work, it was usually just him and Luke at home. Then and there, just the thought of being home alone had sent some strange feeling through him.

A very strange sadness. A very strange loneliness.

A sudden need to turn to Hange and maybe confide for a little longer. Besides, it isn’t everyday Hange is giving you this much attention. Levi reminded himself.

“He’ll be fine,” Hange said again. “Going to school’s just part of growing up.”

“It is.” Levi admitted. “I think I just need to be a little sad about it.” He deliberately softened his voice then to something just loud enough for Hange to hear.

Annoyingly, her smile got wider, her eyes were larger, as if she was looking at a specimen and he was her specimen. “I knew taking a half day off would be a good idea.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #lhw2021 #levihanweek2021

74 notes · View notes

patandpran · 3 years

Text

In Loathe With You

What happens if Taekyung confronts Shinwoo about why Shinwoo has been avoiding him since the incident in the library?

Aka the one where Shinwoo definitely doesn’t ‘hate’ Shinwoo. In fact, it’s kind of the opposite.

The way that Taekyung looked at Shinwoo terrified him.

Taekyung made Shinwoo feel seen. Like all the bullshit and layers of self-doubt and defensiveness were stripped away by Taekyung’s gaze alone.

Taekung looked at people with such intention, it was as if Taekyung was studying you like his life depended on it but Shinwoo soon realized it was more of a survival tactic that Taekyung must have developed to navigate social situations. The more he could gather in mere seconds, the more likely that Taekyung would be able to handle the interaction without too many consequences.

Shinwoo had felt something between them shift after Taekyung stepped into the way of the fight. The cut beneath Taekyung’s eye was a reminder that he put himself in harm’s way for someone that repeatedly declared that he ‘hated’ him and called him ‘annoying’.

Who did that?

It took Shinwoo some time to muster up the courage to call Taekyung and, in his own awkward way, thank him for the gesture. He couldn’t help but stutter anytime he was around Taekyung. He was so hard to read and decipher that it was both unsettling and fascinating to Shinwoo. It made him want to reach out into Taekyung’s mind every time they shared space and find out exactly what was going on for his peer.

So Shinwoo had bought a package of bandages.

…. With the intention of offering them to Taekyung as a sort of peace offering.

But then he encountered Daon and Taekyung in the library and Shinwoo’s confidence shattered into a million pieces. Shinwoo had seen the fondness that Taekyung looked at Daon with a million times before, whether it was students who wanted to date him or friends who looked up to him as if he were some sort of God on Earth.

Shinwoo knew he could never compete with Daon. Daon was warmth, sunshine and refreshing sweet tea while Shinwoo was ice, a cup of bitter coffee and a day inside escaping the rain. Daon was laughing and beaming smiles while Shinwoo was a comfortable shared silence and contemplation.

And it seemed like Taekyung had already decided what he wanted, despite the connection that Shinwoo had felt brewing between them. There was a part of Shinwoo that was shocked that someone like Taekyung would fall for Daon’s warmth but Shinwoo knew how hard it was to escape the power of Daon’s influence. Even Shinwoo had once felt trapped by his feelings for Daon but quickly realized they worked much better as friends.

So, Shinwoo took a step back despite what his instincts told him.

He kept his feelings to himself and started to rebuild the wall between him and Taekyung again so that he wouldn’t get hurt. It was better to feel nothing than to feel hurt. It was better to pretend to loathe someone than love them. The pain was more obtuse.

But Taekyung didn’t seem to appreciate the regression. A few days after the incident in the library, Taekyung cornered Shinwoo in the student council room during a study period that they both shared. Shinwoo regretted ever going to the student council room that day, knowing that Taekyung paid close attention to details such as people’s routines.

“Why are you ignoring me again?” Taekyung demanded bluntly, slamming his hands down onto the council table where Shinwoo was sitting.

This was another quality of Taekyung’s that Shinwoo admired. His need for transparency and honesty meant there was nothing left unclarified, as much as Shinwoo liked to keep things hidden. Taekyung tolerated no BS and Shinwoo found it quite refreshing.

“I-I’m not.” Shinwoo muttered in response and tried to avoid Taekyung’s piercing glare by pretending to study the form he was filling out.

“You’re not good at lying.” Taekyung accused and it somehow didn’t come across as an insult when he said it.

“Look, I’m trying to get this clubs form done so if you want something to entertain you, why don’t you clean the council room again?” Shinwoo deflected, hoping it would be enough to get Taekyung off his case. He really wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation right now.

Instead of taking Shinwoo’s suggestion, Taekyung rounded the table to the side where Shinwoo was sitting and sat in the chair directly next to Shinwoo’s. The sudden invasion of space made Shinwoo’s breath hitch in surprise and when he looked up to meet Taekyung’s gaze, he was shocked to see a look of resolve rather than frustration.

“I don’t know what I did to upset you, but whatever it was, I’m sorry.” Taekyung shared, his voice softer than before.

Shinwoo swallowed slowly, taken aback by the abrupt shift in Taekyung’s tone. “You didn’t do anything. Nothing’s wrong. I don’t know what you mean…”

“You started to open up to me.” Taekyung interrupted Shinwoo in earnest. “You called me! You apologized to me and you even started to greet me… but then, these past few days… it feels like it went back to how it was before. I don’t want to feel invisible to you anymore.”

The hurt was obvious in Taekyung’s words and the guilt quickly flooded through Shinwoo. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Taekyung pain. He had removed himself from the equation so that Shinwoo and Daon could pursue whatever was going on between them. He didn’t want to mess with what was obviously brewing between them. Plus, in taking a step back, Shinwoo was protecting himself too. But how could Shinwoo possibly explain this to Taekyung without revealing his feelings for him?

Because that was the crux of it all.

Shinwoo liked Taekyung.

And that was exactly why they had to go back to how they were before…. So no one got hurt.

“Is it because I heard the stuff your middle school friends said?” Taekyung surged on anxiously. “I’m not going to tell anyone. It’s none of my business, unless you want to tell me about it. I’m never going to push you to tell me things you don’t want to. I just… I want us to get along. I want us to be friends.”

The word ‘friends’ stung more than it should have but that was a pain that Shinwoo would have to learn to tolerate. He could see that the way he was treating Taekyung was doing more damage than it was worth. If Taekyung wanted to be friends, he could keep his feelings hidden as he had with Daon. They would soon dissolve into feelings of platonic affection..

But would they?

There was something innately different about how Shinwoo felt about Taekyung. His feelings were more visceral, like they lived deep within rather than just on the surface. They hadn’t known each other for long but Shinwoo’s feelings for Taekyung felt like they had always dwelled within, ready to rise to the surface when he first laid his eyes on Taekyung.

“Okay.”

That was all that Shinwoo could offer.

The weight of everything sat upon his shoulders and the image of encountering Daon and Taekyung in the library flashed in his memory, sending a pang of hurt through him once again. It spread through his body like a slight shiver as he kept his eyes on Taekyung.

“Okay.” Taekyung responded slowly, almost as if he didn’t believe what Shinwoo had set.

Shinwoo watched as Taekyung momentarily gathered his thoughts, hoping that the interrogation was over and he could at least pretend to return to his work and be left alone with his thoughts. But Taekyung didn’t seem satisfied with the conversation.

“You don’t have to answer but… what changed?” Taekyung asked and Shinwoo wished he had simply continued on with the ‘I hate you’ charade. It would have been easier than having conversations like this one.

“It seemed like, for a second there, that you actually might want to be friends with me.” Taekyung expressed and Shinwoo could hear the vulnerability in Shinwoo’s words. “But then it quickly went back to how it was before… what did I do wrong?”

Shinwoo sighed, letting his gaze fall to the table rather than having to face Taekyung. “Like I said, you didn’t do anything wrong… I just… I think it’s best if we keep a distance between us.”

“Why?” Taekyung shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Shinwoo could feel the truth on the tip of his tongue but he knew honesty would destroy any semblance of a friendship that they had between him and Taekyung, especially given how Taekyung felt for Daon.

“I saw you and Daon in the library.” That was the only explanation that Shinwoo could offer but it only seemed to confuse Taekyung even more.

Taekyung turned his chair to face Shinwoo more directly. “Okay… but what does that have to do with anything?”

For someone so observant, it seemed like Taekyung had a blind spot to how people felt about him. It made the whole interaction both unbearable and embarrassing for Shinwoo but Shinwoo also knew Taekyung wasn’t going to let him escape until the matter was resolved.

“I saw how you looked at him.” Shinwoo explained slowly, the words feeling like poison as they passed through his lips.

“Huh?” Taekyung’s brow knit together for a moment before his eyes grew wide with realization. “You think I like Daon?”

The truth hurt already but hearing it directly from Taekyung felt like a slap across the face. Shinwoo didn’t know how to respond besides nodding and remaining silent as Taekyung regarded him intently.

But then Taekyung did something unexpected - he reached out and gently trailed his fingers across one of Shinwoo’s ears. The touch made Shinwoo become starkly still and all remaining thoughts disappeared from his mind.

“Your ears are red again.” Taekyung remarked softly, leaning in toward Shinwoo.

Shinwoo couldn’t help but let himself be caught up in the moment for a few seconds before his eyes fell on the bandaid that Daon had placed on Taekyung’s face. At that, he pulled away from Taekyung’s touch and turned his eyes away as well, feeling the shame flood through him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shinwoo saw Taekyung’s hand hover slightly before retracting it and touching the bandaid on his face. “Daon doesn’t like me. He takes care of everyone. You should know that by now, Shinwoo.”

Taekyung looked back to Shinwoo and blurted out, “But you like him.”

Shinwoo shrugged, “He’s nice to me. I think maybe I thought I did for a second but then I realized it was a different feeling…. It was friendship, not a romantic feeling or physical attraction. I’m just not used to people having any investment in me… he made me feel seen. But I understand the difference now.”

“How?” Shinwoo wondered, not even processing the relief that he was experiencing at hearing that Taekyung didn’t want to be anything more than Daon’s friend.

“Because of how I feel about you.” Taekyung admitted, the nerves clear in his voice. “Don’t you wonder why I was so insistent about finding out why you hated me? It was borderline obsessive!”

Shinwoo’s mind turned to static. He understood the possibility of what Taekyung was saying but it was too unbelievable to conceive that Taekyung felt the same as him, especially considering how Shinwoo had treated him.

“You want to be my friend.” Shinwoo expressed numbly.

“No, you don’t get it.” Taekyung was shaking his head in disbelief again before becoming still and solemn. “I like you, Shinwoo.”

For a second, Shinwoo thought he had heard Taekyung wrong or was imagining things. But then Taekyung kept talking, “Maybe that will make you hate me. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything but I just felt like something had changed between us and maybe...Maybe I don’t know how to have friends but what I do know is that I don’t want to just be friends with you, Shinwoo. I don’t expect anything in return, I just… need to be honest with you.”

“Honest.” Shinwoo repeated the word numbly as he was still in shock by Taekyung’s confession.

“Before I ever said anything.” Taekyung bit out.

Shinwoo realized too late that he must have come across in a mocking tone as a look of hurt crossed Taekyung’s face before he shoved his chair back to make an escape. An all too familiar shame was clear in Taekyung’s eyes as he moved toward the door of the student council room.

And even though Shinwoo was still in autopilot, his body leapt into action on his behalf, knowing that if he didn’t act now, he might lose Taekyung forever. The damage would be done if he didn’t make his intentions clear.

Shinwoo slipped in front of Taekyung and put his back to the door to block Taekyung from exiting. Taekyung took a surprised step back and tore his gaze from Shinwoo’s, letting out a huff of frustration. “I don’t need your pity, Shinwoo. I get it now. You hate me and that’s never going to change.”

“I don’t hate you.” Shinwoo practically whispered. “I never did.”

Taekyung looked urgently back to Shinwoo. “What?”

Shinwoo took a deep breath and stepped closer to Taekyung, raising his hand to gently run his thumb over the bandaid on Taekyung’s cheek. “I don’t hate you, Taekyung. I was… terrified of how you made me feel.”

“I don’t understand.” Taekyung murmured under Shinwoo’s touch.

“The weight of what I feel for you, it was too much.” Shinwoo explained slowly, articulating every word. “That’s why I acted like I hated you. I was awful to you because… well, you were overwhelming. I didn’t want you around because… well, I like you too, and I was scared of what that meant.”

Taekyung relaxed slightly, his expression becoming more open and curious than defensive. “But what does Daon have anything to do with this?”

“I was planning to bring you a bandaid as an apology for how I treated you after the fight.” Shinwoo answered, embarrassed about how he had handled the situation. “But then I saw you and Daon in the library and I guess.. I just didn’t want to get in the way of you too.”

“Like I said, there’s nothing to get in the way of.” Taekyung raised his hand to put around Shinwoo’s wrist and leaned his head into Shinwoo’s palm that was still cradling his face.

“I know that now.” Shinwoo shared with a relieved sigh.

And then something beautiful happened. Taekyung smiled at Shinwoo and something in Shinwoo melted. The walls of ice that he had worked so hard for so long to build up began to dissipate because of Taekyung’s mere presence.

“So… what does this make us?” Taekyung asked boldly, beaming at Shinwoo.

“It definitely makes us more than friends.” Shinwoo responded, a smile tugging at his own lips.

Taekyung leaned forward so their foreheads touched momentarily before he pulled back again. He had a satisfied look in his eyes and he teased, “Your ears are red again. I guess you really do like me.”

Shinwoo rolled his eyes. He could get used to this banter but he might never get used to the reality that Taekyung felt the same way he did and had been brave enough to share those feelings with him.

And, just like that, Shinwoo wasn’t so afraid of how Taekyung made him feel anymore.

#light on me #Korean bl #korean drama #kdrama

47 notes · View notes

babybamf · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Warren Worthington III

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(We’re just gonna throw together a little au, alright?)

- You met Warren after Xavier brought him back to the school. Most people stayed away from him and rightfully so; he had teamed up with a malicious god and was partially responsible for the destruction of your school.

- You’d stayed away as well, which is what he seemed to want. He wasn’t exactly putting himself out there to make friends, not with his glaring and standoffish demeanor.

- A part of you figured that he really didn’t want people around him. That, no, he wasn’t just being “cruelly” ostracized by his peers; he was actively and consciously making sure people stayed away.

- But then another part of you reasoned that few people had actually attempted to get close to him, and to be fair, you hadn’t liked those people either.

- You’d contemplated going up and introducing yourself. In fact, you’d tried to, taking a deep breath and maneuvering your way across the school grounds towards him with that exact idea in mind. But the minute you came almost close enough to throw away any doubt that you were approaching him, he’d looked up at you with such cold and venomous fervor that you’d lost your nerve.

- Instead, you’d; thankfully, managed to continue on walking and coincidentally run into a younger student that you’d known, making it seem like that was your intention all along. You decided that day that Warren Worthington just hated people and you shouldn’t interfere with that.

- That would have been the end of it, and at the time you wished that it was, but that wasn’t the case. The moment you walked past the boy, it was like you’d painted a target on your forehead.

- Everywhere you went, Warren Worthington was there to stare at you from across the way. He’d set his sights on you and you weren’t sure which emotion was behind his gaze, though you were pretty sure it wasn’t one of the good ones.

- It took a few months of this, and you wondering if he was planning on killing you, for anything to actually happen.

- You’d been sitting in the lunchroom, reading a book when you heard the rooms chatter die down. There, at the entrance, stood Warren.

- He scanned the room, his eyes landing on you; much more passively than most other times, before moving to the nearly empty table across from yours. He made his way towards it, unfazed by the students who’d been occupying it scrambling to leave, and soon enough he was seated a few yards away with a perfect view of you.

- You tried to ignore him, turning to the book you’d brought in hopes of just forgetting he was there. Although, it was easier said than done when you could feel his eyes on you.

- More than once, you’d glanced over and caught him watching you; albeit it a bit more casually than usual. You wondered if he’d specifically come into the room just to look at you, you’d never seen him inside before; and he wasn’t eating, so you had to assume so.

- Finally, you turned back to your book and promised yourself you wouldn’t look at him, no matter how much your body was screaming for you to. The monkey part of you brain told you that this was a test and that averting your eyes was the proper move to make; so you made it ...up until you could feel someone standing in front of/at your side.

“I’m Warren,” Boy were you not expecting him to be British. His voice was like honey, even though there was a twinge of; what seemed to be, discomfort to it. He seemed out of his element. “I’ve seen you around. You’re Y/n, right?”

“Yeah uh, yeah, that’s right. ...Hi.” You answered nervously. He nodded and a long moment of silence passed between the two of you before he asked if he could sit down.

- It was awkward at first but then he asked you about a band and you started a near hour long discussion about music.

- Soon enough you were talking like it was a normal thing to happen, up until you were interrupted by a peer who told you that someone wanted to see you. You excused yourself and walked away, feeling more confident now that you knew you weren’t going to be murdered.

- Warren was sort of like a changed person after your first few initially awkward conversations; at least he was to you. He was still his intimidating self to everyone else but you; and in some regards Storm, seemed to be an exception.

- After a few weeks of you slowly seeing more and more of each other, he finally decided it was time to ask you out like he’d been intending all along. Well, he asked you out in his own way.

- It was late, he’d caught your attention with a “psst” and a flash of a bottle of liquor and motioned for you to follow him as he led the two of you outside. You soon found yourself sitting with him in the dark of the night, taking swigs from the bottle he’d snuck with you.

- You caught him watching you while you brought the bottle to your lips, taking a small gulp before moving to pass it back, only to be met with his face close to yours and his hand sliding onto your cheek. It was a matter of seconds before his lips were on yours but that short moment of anticipation had your heart racing.

- You spent the rest of the night talking and kissing and by morning you were official.

- Soo much Pda. He’s constantly touching you and trying to get you to kiss him.

- He loves when you kiss him. Surprise him with a little smooch; you’ll never see anyone look more in love than he will.

- Hand kisses.

- His hand in your back pocket.

- His arm wrapped around you constantly.

- Warren alternates between only calling you pet names and only calling you your name. When he is using pet names, he’ll call you things like babe, birdie, and love.

- He’s surprisingly loving considering how violent he used to be. You don’t expect it at first but he’s absolutely adorable when he’s around you.

- The instant he sees you, his day gets 100x better. Even if his face just goes from glaring to neutral whenever his eyes land on you, rest assured that his bad mood goes away the minute you appear.

- He’s always incredibly gentle whenever he puts his hands on you with innocent intent, like when he’s pushing your hair back or helping you put in an earring.

- He’s definitely affection starved and heartclenchingly so. You’ll go to gently touch his face for one reason or another and he’ll act like he’s never felt something better in his life.

- Cuddling is a bit difficult with the whole wing thing but you try your best. Sometimes you’ll just lay side by side and hold hands, other times he’ll cocoon the two of you while you lay on top of him, and other times he’ll lay down and you’ll just snuggle yourself into him the best that you can.

- Going flying. He rarely goes really high up with you in his arms, he himself is afraid he’ll accidentally drop you or you’ll get hurt in some other way.

- Stargazing or watching the sunset/rise on roofs of buildings.

- Sneaking out to spend time with each other away from everyone else.

- Blasting rock music as you drive through town.

- Abandoned building picnics? Abandoned building picnics. What’s better than being able to destroy everything around you and not being bothered by anyone.

- Nighttime walks around town. He sorta likes just wandering around the city with you.

- Helping him shop for clothes that will actually fit him, or helping him cut holes into his clothing.

- He’s grown to love his wings over the years so he always straightens up with pride whenever you compliment or touch them.

- Hickeys.

- Constant making out. He can’t get enough of you.

- Groping, blatantly too, just right in the middle of the street or hallway.

- Innuendos that make you blush.

- You’re either treated like a queen or being harassed like you’re dating a horny teenager. There is no in between.

- Kissing his scars.

- Occasionally, he’ll tell you stories about his fighting days. He finds it amusing to watch your face change whenever he recounts something particularly painful or malicious.

- He’s been known to get drunk for several different reasons so you’ll just have to find out which one it is while making sure he doesn’t die from alcohol poisoning or any dumbass decision he may make while wasted.

- Sharing booze.

- He probably has a tattoo of you or your name somewhere on his body. He’s a reckless person; it fits the vibe.

- He loves people knowing that the two of you are together, he’s so proud.

- Sooo many compliments.

- Sarcasm and affectionate name calling.

- He always gives you the cutest smile and a kiss on the cheek whenever you get him a gift.

- As surprising as it may be; considering the way he acts, he’s genuinely charming; and his face isn’t that bad either. He’s capable of making literally any girl swoon yet he still feels lucky to have you in his life.

- I feel like Warren just doesn’t like people and probably for a number of reasons. With that being said, he prefers to keep to himself, though he’ll tolerate social events; and your friends, for your sake.

- Warren is the type of boyfriend that would rather be seen than heard. Sure he loves talking with you, but he would rather listen to you talk instead of actually talking himself.

- With that being said, he can talk your ear off whenever he gets angry or jealous, wanting nothing more than to divert your attention from everything else and make you focus on only him.

- He’s a pretty jealous guy. He hates seeing other men around you, especially if it seems like you’re really close or that the guy has a thing for you.

- He’s definitely fought a man for flirting with or disrespecting you. The man does not play when it comes to you.

- Whenever the two of you fight, he’ll turn into the biggest sarcastic asshole that you will ever see. That being said, he’ll never yell at you unless you’re walking away from him and he’s calling after you in exasperation.

- If he’s in the wrong then he’ll apologize; albeit slightly begrudgingly. He isn’t very used to it so bear with him, he’s trying his best.

- He doesn’t tell you he loves you very often but you’ll definitely be able to tell that he does, especially as your relationship progresses.

- Though he may not vocally express it, he doesn’t intend on giving you up any time soon so let’s hope you’re in it for the long run.

#xmen headcanons #xmen imagine #xmen x reader #xmen headcanon #xmen imagines #angel imagine #angel headcanons #angel headcanon #angel imagines #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington imagines #warren worthington headcanons #warren worthington headcanon

306 notes · View notes

dream-a-little-bigger-x · 3 years

Text

Halloween Prank Gone Wrong | Luke Patterson

Request: hi! firstly i love your series & imagines! they are so wonderful! <3 okay secondly can i request a luke patterson x reader where reader is friends with julie and it’s Halloween so Julie decides to prank reader with an ouija board and has the boys behind everything but reader can see them? sorry if this doesn’t make sense ):

Pairing: Luke Patterson x reader, JATP x reader, Julie x Flynn x Reader

Warnings: Use of OUIJA board

Words: 2,239

Songs used: Time Warp - Glee Cast Version

Y/N: Your name Y/L/N: Your last name Y/M/N: Your mother’s name

You and Julie have been friends since you were both in diapers, along with Carrie. The three of you used to be inseparable, and then even Flynn joined your Squad in Middle School. People used to call you the Los Feliz Four. Then came the worst year of your squad’s year. Julie lost her mom and with it, her love and connection to music, one of the many things that connected the Los Feliz Four. Carrie stopped hanging out with Julie after a humongous fight, and when Flynn picks Julie’s side, you’re stuck between the two fires. You love Julie with all your heart and help her wherever she needs it, but you also still hang out every now and then with Carrie. Though the drama in Dirty Candy sometimes gets a little much.

On the day of the spirit assembly, you’re on the sidelines, cheering on Dirty Candy and Julie herself when she takes her spot behind the keyboard, starting a song you don’t know. Her voice echoes through the gym, capturing every student’s attention. Even more so when a band flashes onto the stage, joining her into the song. You have to blink a couple of times, to make sure you’re really seeing things correctly. These are three of four boys from Sunset Curve. Your mother used to be the biggest fan of their music back in the 90’s and showed you all of their work. She even told you about Bobby, who now goes by the name of Trevor Wilson and how he used to be part of the band as well. You never told Carrie what you knew. But seeing the boys up there, knowing they died, only means one thing. These are ghosts. The ghosts of a 90’s band. You can’t help but jam along with them, though the song is completely unfamiliar to you. And, once the song is over, you can still see the boys on the side of the stage, talking amongst each other whilst Julie explains the hologram-thing. You witness the dark-haired boy run up the steps and shake his booty, checking if no one can see them. You’re somewhere at the back of the crowd, hidden behind the tallest guy in your class. He can’t see you, but you can see him. You have to ask Julie what’s going on. There needs to be an explanation to this. You don’t know how to tell her you know. It might be weird to just go up there and tell her ‘hey! I know about your ghost band!’. Besides, how fun would it be to know about her secret and catch her in each lie she comes up with as an excuse for their behavior? You hold it out until October. Halloween, to be exact. It’s been hard, trying to keep this from Julie, but it has been fun seeing the boys squirm whenever you looked straight into their eyes as if you could see them. The hardest part was trying not to laugh whenever they said something dumb or funny, but you just about managed. You managed enough for Julie to believe you didn’t know about her ghost band and to come up with a scheme to prank you this Halloween. You didn’t know, at first, since she just asked to hang out on Halloween, watch some horror films and just enjoy the holiday you both loved so much, along with Flynn. The three of you had decided to dress up for your little get together. Dressed as Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls, you make your way to Julie’s garage. To no surprise, finding the boys there too, along with Flynn -- dressed as Buttercup -- and Julie -- dressed as Blossom. “Hey,” you greet as your eyes land on the Ouija Board, surrounded by dozens of candles. “Playing a game, are we?” You already have a hunch what’s going to happen, but decide to play along anyway. “Yes! No better moment than Halloween to break this bad boy out, right?” Flynn exclaims as she sits down on the floor at the coffee table where Julie had set up the board. “Sure,” you agree with a shrug before taking a red cup from Julie. She’d gone all out with decorating the studio with cobwebs and pumpkins and skeletons. She really went to town, even on the beverages and snacks. All of them Halloween-themed. “Are we ready?” Julie asks ominously whilst sitting down next to Flynn and extending her arms, so they’re resting on the plaque in the middle of the board. You bite your bottom lip, trying your hardest not to start laughing at your best friends, and sit down with them. The three boys surround you, placing their hands onto the plaque at the same time you and Flynn do. “It’s really important you keep your hands on the plaque at all times,” Julie warns you and Flynn. It’s really hard to concentrate on the board and not on the extremely cute guy on the opposite side of the table, staring at you with a grin on his face. “Let’s do this,” you state, your eyes flicking from Julie to Flynn, stopping briefly at the lead singer of Sunset Curve. You catch a flicker of confusion in his eyes, but decide to ignore it and focus on Julie and Flynn for now. “O Fortuna, Velut luna, Statu variabilis, Semper crescis, Aut decrescis; Vita detestabilis.” You furrow your eyebrows at Julie’s sudden outburst in Latin. You don’t need much to recognize it though. That’s from O Fortuna by Carmina Burana. The most famous choral number in existence. You feel a little offended Julie thinks you wouldn’t know that. “Are you ghosts out there?” she asks in a menacing voice, trying to build up the tension. You can feel the boy next to you go through you with his shoulder as he pushes against the plaque to slide it over to the ‘yes’. You press your lips together to keep you from laughter, your eyes widening in fake shock. “Who are you?” you ask as you look into the lead singer's eyes, pretending to look ahead into the abyss. The boy now leans forward and starts moving the plaque to the L, then U-K-E. You glance at Julie and Flynn, who exchange glances too. “Were you in a band?” Luke’s eyes widen at this, frantically glancing at his best friends in need of help. The blond one, who’s sitting next to Flynn, cocks his head to the stereo before getting up from his spot and moving to the corner. He presses the play button, a song you recognize as Now or Never by their very own band. You nod your head, impressed by the lengths these boys are going to keep up this prank. “Hey, Luke,” you’re still looking at him instead of Julie or Flynn. “Are your bandmates here too?” “Bro, she knows,” Luke scoffs, which makes you burst out laughing. You can’t handle it anymore. The disappointment in Luke’s face is just too much. “I’m sorry guys, but I can literally see you…” you tell the three guys, leaving them and your two best friends in complete and utter shock, laced with a bit of disgruntlement over their prank failing. “My mother used to be a really big fan of yours. She showed me all of your music and told me about Bobby-slash-Trevor.” Julie’s head snaps up at this. “You knew?” she asks, eyes wide and bewildered at this new information. “Yeah, I never told you or Carrie because one, I didn’t think it mattered, and two, there must be a reason why Bobby hasn’t told his own daughter about his past band.” You shrug, letting your eyes dart over to the boys again. They’re all sat on the floor, frozen in shock. “How do you see us?” the darker-haired boy with the rosy cheeks asks. “I guess my mother being such a fan of Sunset Curve gives me a connection to all of you?” you offer them your best guess. Luke’s eyes widen, clearly realizing something as he gets up from the floor to start pacing the garage. “What’s her name?” he asks, remembering one girl he had a real connection with. “Y/M/N.” He visibly swallows a lump in his throat, and scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Yeah… Let’s say I know her very well…” Your mind immediately jumps to a conclusion that leaves you a little weirded out. “Remember that one girl our age at the book club we played at?” He directs this question to the boys. “Right! She was the daughter of the hostess!” the brunette, who you’re guessing is Reggie by the way he expresses himself, remembers. “No, you didn’t!” His eyes widen at the sudden realization, he then turns to you. “You’re her daughter?!” You nod your head slowly, trying to comprehend what’s happening. “It doesn’t matter who Luke had a special connection with,” Julie interrupts, “Why didn’t you say anything? It killed me not telling you!” You shrug your shoulders. “I guess I thought it would’ve been weird to just come up to you and say ‘yo, Jules, I can see your ghost band!’ Besides, it was fun seeing these boys squirm whenever I looked at them a little too long.” Your lip turns upwards on one side. “I knew you saw me!” The blonde guy narrows his eyes at you. So, that must be Drama Queen Alex… “Can we just drop it and enjoy the rest of our night together?” you exclaim, raising your hands in defense for ever lying to your best friends. “I heard…” you start, glancing at all three of the boys, “You guys are very good at jamming whatever song is thrown at you.” “Yes! Please! Sing! So I’m not the only one not seeing you!” Flynn groans in frustration, walking through Luke, not realizing he’d gotten up from his seat earlier. “I just stepped through someone, didn’t I?” Julie and you simply nod your head, amused smiles stifled. Luke and Reggie grab their instruments whilst Alex makes his way behind his drum kit. “Y’all know Time Warp, from the Rocky Horror Picture Show?” you ask. As an answer, Alex counts all of you in before the band starts playing and Luke’s voice fills the studio. “It's astounding, time is fleeting Madness takes its toll But listen closely,” You, having received a microphone from Julie, walk over to the lead singer your mother had a fling with once -- apparently -- and chime into the song. “Not for very much longer” “I've got to keep control” He shoots you a wink before changing to his head voice to go into the chorus. “I remember doing the time warp Drinking those moments when The blackness would hit me And the void would be calling” Then, all of you join into the post-chorus together, singing at the top of your lungs. “Let's do the time warp again Let's do the time warp again” Reggie then takes the next part whilst all three girls do the choreography from the musical, and alternating lines with Reggie. “It's just a jump to the left” “And then a step to the right” “put your hands on your hips” “You bring your knees in tight But it's the pelvic thrust That really drives you insane Let's do the time warp again! Let's do the time warp again!” You dance your way to Reggie whilst taking the next verse, all while Julie’s behind the keyboard, getting some melodic notes into the jam. “It's so dreamy, oh fantasy free me So you can't see me, no not at all In another dimension, with voyeuristic intentions Well-secluded, I see all” Reggie looks into your eyes as he uses his best seductive voice to sing the next line. “With a bit of a mind flip” And then you imitate that tone on your next line. “You're into the time slip” “And nothing can ever be the same” Flynn then takes the next line, dancing in front of Alex’s drum kit, facing him with a wide smile on her face. She’s glad she can see the boys now too. It makes her feel a little less left out. “You're spaced out on sensation” Alex then sings one line before the rest of you join in again for the chorus. “Like you're under sedation” “Let's do the time warp again! Let's do the time warp again!” “It's just a jump to the left” “And then a step to the right” “put your hands on your hips” “You bring your knees in tight But it's the pelvic thrust That really drives you insane Let's do the time warp again! Let's do the time warp again!” The boys play their last chords or hit their last cymbals while Julie plays her last note. All six of you giggling like crazy, oozing happiness and contentment. This is probably the craziest and most fun you’d ever had on Halloween. “Oh, man!” Flynn whines, a pout on her face. You don’t know why at first, but then remember she can’t see the boys like you and Julie can, which sends all of you into a fit of laughter. If your life is going to be this fun and crazy with these boys in your life, you’d never want to die. Or maybe you would, if that meant spending even more time with them.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #reggie jatp #jeremy shada #alex jatp #owen joyner #owen patrick joyner #halloween #requests

258 notes · View notes

seokjinsdisciple · 3 years

Text

It’s a Deal - eight

supernatural! johnny x reader x jaehyun, mate!au

Word Count: 2.3k

not a great update but oh well

tags: @thatonekpopsweater, @queen-of-himbos , @yourchasingsunsetslove, @a-brooding-bird, @sokkigarden, @tardis-world, @etherealbyeol, @mylovelyjisungie

i made a plalist! listen if you want!! spotify | apple music

send me a dm or an ask to be on the taglist

warnings: language, supernatural stuff, arguing, death, lowkey panic, crying, i think thats it

series masterlist

You were wrapped in the comfiest fuzzy blanket you owned, legs draped over Johnny’s lap and head resting on Jaehyun’s chest.

“Why do you get the whole couch?” Jaehyun whined, the rumbling of his chest wiggling your head.

“Because it’s my house, and I bought it,” you said back, never taking your eyes from the tv.

“We’d have a lot more space if we were at the palace,” he snarked back, letting out a huff of air as Johnny smacked him on the back of the head, “What? You know it's true!”

“You can go back to the palace whenever you want,” you added, grinning at his pinch to your side.

“You’re trying to get rid of me!” He pouted, returning the slap to the back of the head he’d gotten to Johnny after he let out a chuckle.

The three of you fell back into silence, Jaehyun’s fingers carding through your hair as you watched the show playing on the tv. You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep, the warmth from your blanket and the two boys surrounding you making it almost impossible to keep your eyes open. You managed to tear your eyes open as Jaehyun stiffened beneath you, looking questioningly between him and Johnny, who had stood up.

“What’s going on?” you grumbled, sitting up as Jaehyun practically pushed you from his lap. You watched the two brother’s closely, heart rate increasing as you noticed the sullen look on Johnny’s face. Jaehyun looked even paler than normal, his eyes locked onto Johnny’s in a panic that you had never seen before.

“Doyoung just killed our father,” Johnny spoke lowly, eyes never leaving Jaehyun’s.

You glanced uneasily at Jaehyun, “So he’s...he’s the king now?”

“We need to go back, Jae,” Johnny spoke, “It’s not safe for you here.”

Jaehyun just nodded slowly, the panic on his face only increasing as they pulled on their coats.

“You’re coming with us,” Johnny added, tossing your coat to where you sat stunned on the couch.

“But my finals are tomorrow!” you protested weakly, not saying another word as Johnny shot you a look. You shrugged your coat on, not saying anything as Jaehyun grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers.

The palace was much different from the last time you had been here. The flowers in the front withered and lifeless. The colors in all of the halls were muted, as if the King dying had killed the palace too.

“It is kinda like that,” Johnny glanced at you, “It’ll stay this way until Jae’s coronation.”

“Why?” you asked, wincing slightly as Jaehyun squeezed your hand tightly, his eyes glazed over and focused straight in front of him.

“The king’s power is directly tied to the palace and the land, so when a king passes away the land kinda dies with it. At least until another king is crowned and it has power to feed from again.”

You nodded, falling silent as the doors to the ballroom swung open. You were met with some of the familiar faces that had watched you so closely from the small thrones around the king the night you had been announced as Jaehyun’s future wife. There were some faces you hadn’t seen before, but from the sullen looks on their faces you figured they were either family or very close advisors.

You let go of Jaehyun’s hand, falling behind him as all eyes on the room flickered to the three of you.

“Where the hell were you?” a dark haired boy said, jaw clenching as he glanced from Jaehyun to Johnny, scoffing as his gaze fell onto your form, “Of course.”

“Mark,” Johnny tensed, “Enough.”

“You literally have one job Johnny!” The boy, Mark, raised his voice, “Protect the family, and instead you’re off with your-”

“Quiet,” Jaehyun’s voice sounded from beside you, his authoritative tone enough to have everyone in the room’s attention, “I understand you’re upset. We all are. But rather than fighting with, and blaming each other, we need to band together and fucking kill that bastard.”

“Whatever you say, your majesty,” Mark spoke, sarcasm dripping from his words as he bowed lowly towards Jaehyun. Not giving Jaehyun a chance to say anything as he walked past him, knocking his shoulder into Jaehyun’s as he walked out of the door.

“Give him some time, dear,” a middle aged woman spoke up, soft smile doing nothing to hide her reddened eyes, “You know how close he was with your father.”

Jaehyun just gave a curt nod, walking over to where the rest of the group stood.

“Let’s get to work then,” he spoke, sweeping his hand in front of him, a table of roots appearing immediately in front of the family, “Johnny, fill me in on the position of our men, and the last known location of Doyoung’s men.”

Johnny stepped up to the table, flicking his wrist as a map unfolded on the table. Before he began talking he glanced towards you.

“Jeno, Jaemin,” He called, “Why don’t you give YN here a tour of the palace?”

The two familiar boys just shot each other a glance before walking over to you and practically dragging you from the room. They closed the door quickly shooting weary smiles to each other before the barely taller one slung his arm around your shoulder.

“I’m Jaemin,” he grinned, “and that’s Jeno.”

“Hi,” you spoke, returning their smiles.

“We swear the palace is usually way more fun than right now,” Jeno added, grabbing one of your hands and urging you to start walking.

“I mean seriously,” Jaemin rolled his eyes, “One assassination and you’d think the world was ending!”

You glanced at him, thoroughly confused at how he could speak so casually about the death of his father.

“Mm,” Jaemin laughed, “Jae was right, it’s way too easy to get into your brain.”

“Not our father,” Jeno grinned, “Our mother’s the Queen, but that man was as far from a father to us as he could’ve been.”

“I resent the fact that you’re ‘getting into my brain’ or however you put it,” you mumbled, holding back from asking if the King was just a shitty father or if the Queen had an affair.

“Just a shit father really,” Jeno added, giving you a sheepish smile as you shot a glare at him.

“If you really don’t like others listening to your thoughts you could ask Mark to help,” Jaemin spoke up.

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” you said, almost bumping into the door where the boys had halted.

“Mark was our dad’s favorite, so he’s taking this pretty hard,” Jeno said.

“He’ll get over it though,” Jaemin added, dramatically swinging the door in front of you open.

You felt your jaw drop, the enormous room that you were peeking into was filled floor to ceiling with books. You couldn’t help but step into the library, looking at every part of the room.

“Johnny said you’d like the library,” Jeno smiled proudly, standing beside you and glancing around the room too.

“This is incredible,” you breathed, walking over to the nearest bookshelf and running your hand over the spines.

“Ok, yes it has books. Whoop dee doo,” Jaemin groaned from behind you, “There’s a million cooler rooms in this palace. Can we please move on now?”

“You can explore this room more tomorrow,” Jeno added, laughing as Jaemin desperately tugged on Jeno’s wrist.

“So tell us more about how you and Johnny met,” Jaemin prodded, his arm returning to your shoulders as you walked together down the halls. You were quickly learning that Jaemin was more mischievous of the two brothers, Jeno being much quieter and calmer than him.

“Uh, well we had a class together our first year,” you said, “and we had the same major so we were kinda always together.”

“I didn’t realize he seriously went to human school,” Jeno said, a thoughtful look passing his face as you just nodded.

“Have you fucked him yet?” Jaemin asked, wiggling his eyebrows as you choked on air.

You stuttered as memories from freshman year flashed in your mind. Johnny’s back muscles rippling against your skin, his abs glistening with sweat.

“Oh my god he has bedded you!” Jeno practically yelled, slightly disgusted look completely opposite of Jaemin’s knowing smirk.

“Was he good?”

“Jaems I am not answering that!” You said, shrugging his arm from your shoulder and lightly smacking him.

“It’s ok, doll,” Jaemin said, rubbing the spot you had smacked with his free hand, “We both know what you are thinking.”

You just groaned, hitting Jaemin first and then deciding to hit Jeno too. That’s for reading my mind you assholes.

“It’s not our fault,” Jeno pouted, “You’re practically screaming them at us.”

“Just get on with the tour,” you sighed, trying your best to keep your mind empty as they returned to their mission. They led you to the kitchen, through four dining rooms, around the art gallery and into the game room. Constantly making fun of your looks of awe. They hurried you through the jewel room, pointed out the gym and swimming pools. They even led you to the liquor room, Jaemin pressing a finger to his lips as he grabbed a bottle of wine.

Jaemin pointed out far too many bedrooms for you to remember, laughing as you tried to figure out who the hell half of the people he was even naming were. He pointed out both Jaehyun’s and Johnny’s room, giving you a knowing look as you tried to commit both of the locations to memory.

It was with a smile that you found yourself stumbling down a familiar hallway, Jeno pointing out his room, and then your own room.

“And at the very end of the hallway is my room,” Jaemin winked, “So if you ever need someone to keep your bed warm, you know where to find me.”

“I really hope you’re kidding, brother,” Johnny’s voice rang out from behind the three of you.

“You know I always am,” Jaemin smiled easily, giving you a short wave before walking the rest of the way down the hallway and into his bedroom.

Jeno looked awkwardly between where you and Johnny stood before muttering out a quick goodnight and walking to his room.

“I hope they didn’t bother you too much,” Johnny said, walking closer to you and taking you by the hand, “The twins can be a lot to handle.”

“They were mostly nice,” you smiled at him, laughing as you heard Jaemin swear at you from down the hallway. Johnny smiled back at you, but you could tell he was exhausted.

“Am I that easy to read?” he asked, pulling you into your room.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, letting him pull you onto one of the couches in your room, “You wanna talk about it?”

Johnny just slid his hands across his face, in some attempt to relieve some of the tension in his body.

“I just feel like this is my fault,” he started, playing with your fingers as he talked, “I should’ve been here to prevent the attack.”

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, “If anything, I feel like it’s mine. I’m just some helpless human girl that has no business being involved in any of this. You were just trying to make sure I was ok.”

“Yeah but that was for completely selfish reasons,” he groaned, “and to be honest I’m feeling kinda guilty because I think I’d still make the same decision.”

“Can I ask why?” you spoke quietly, meeting his eyes, “Why are you so set on protecting me?”

“I can’t tell you that yet,” he said simply, looking away from you. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments after that, the air heavy around you as you thought.

“When can I go back?”

Johnny looked over to you, and you could tell by the look in his eyes that you weren’t going back anytime soon.

“It’s just safer for you to be here,” Johnny said, looking down at the hand that was intertwined with yours, “and now that Jaehyun has...transitions to make it’s important you’re around as many people who can protect you as you can.”

The two of you jumped slightly as a loud knock rang out on your door.

“It’s Jaehyun,” Johnny said, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You watched as his form disappeared with a snap, the space where he had been sitting next to you, now empty. You got up as another knock sounded at the door.

As soon as you threw the door up Jaehyun was hugging you, his shoulders shaking as he whimpered. You immediately hugged him back, pulling him into your room and out of the hallway.

He was almost choking on his sobs, and you patiently held him until he calmed down.

“M sorry,” he hiccuped, “It’s just, you’re the only one I can show my weaknesses too.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, rubbing his back as he still clung to you.

“I don’t even want to be King,” he whispered, “I never have. I used to think that it would be a long time before it would happen, and I- I just thought I had more time. I’m not going to be any good at it.”

“Jaehyun you’ll be a fine king.”

“I’m not ready,” he whispered, “Everyone thinks I’m this perfect prince, ready for anything but they have no idea.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, his breathing regulating. He sniffled as he pulled away from you. His shy smile, teary eyes and flushed cheeks enough to have your heart racing.

“Do you mind if I sleep here tonight?” he asked, “I just don’t think I can bear sleeping alone tonight.”

“Of course,” you smiled back, wiping the tears from his eyes before you both began getting ready for bed.

136 notes · View notes

threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

Propinquity (Law of Seesaw)

→ [6/7] of the Glossary Series

→ summary: You first meet him on a seesaw. What a surprise, your relationship with him is exactly like that of a seesaw too—there are ceaseless ups and downs. So much so that you wonder when it’ll end.

→ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 50% fluff, 33% angst, 17% crack | e2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, mean insults

→ wordcount: 9.2k

♫: Seesaw by BTS

You can't remember the last time you've gone a week without fighting.

There is always a new problem that arises. A new argument that is sparked from the depths of trivial problems. Then Yoongi stops talking to you for a day (or days if the fight is serious) and sleeps downstairs on the couch until he wants to crawl back to you and apologize. Other times, you're the one who has to drag yourself to your boyfriend's study with a plate of his favorite fruit and an apology in your head.

But it seems like the fighting never ends.

Now the bed feels cold. It is empty. Just like you.

You know that Yoongi's downstairs, either working with his new client (through the dead of the night) or already sleeping on the small couch. Though you're supposed to be mad at him, you worry. The couch isn't good for his already deteriorating posture. But you can't nag at him now. It'll result in more arguments.

When was the last time you and Yoongi didn't fight, though?

The correct answer is never.

From day one, you and Yoongi were destined enemies.

"Hi." You're a proud little child, standing up straight with your hands on your hips. A bit chubby and round in the middle but you flaunt the extra weight. "My mommy says I need to make friends before kindergarten starts."

"My mommy says not to talk to strangers." The young boy peeks at you through his shaggy black hair. He rocks the paint-nicked seesaw by himself, kicking his feet off the ground only to come back down with a light oof.

"I'm not a stranger," you scoff, crossing your hands over your chest. "Let me play on the seesaw!"

Yoongi doesn't even have time to answer because you're crawling up on the opposite side already. "H-Hey!" he yells but he's too late. The moment you innocently perch upon the seesaw, you’re slammed to the ground and Yoongi's lifted up high in the air.

Ah, the weight difference.

"GET ME OFF!" Yoongi screams. "GET ME OFF!!"

Your eyes turn wide. You hadn't meant to scare the boy. You thought everyone wanted to fly up in the air, and you were just granting the little boy's wish. In your head, you didn't even think of the possibility that Yoongi is afraid of heights. (Which was stupid of him to even try playing on the seesaw in the first place.)

"GET OFF!" Yoongi yells viciously at you. His face has turned a bright shade of pink and purple.

You think he looks like he's about to suffocate.

"I'M SORRY!" you shriek as you dive off the seesaw.

Yoongi lets out a high-pitched, ear-piercing scream as he subsequently flings off the seesaw. He lands on his butt several centimeters away from the rusty playground equipment and bursts out crying.

You gasp. Oh no. This was bad. Very, very bad. So you do the first thing that comes to your head: run away.

The boy's cries become louder and louder as you sprint in the opposite direction, but you grit your teeth and dash on. Eventually, your guilt for throwing off a boy from the playground seesaw dissipates when your mother buys you ice cream for lunch. Food is always the solution.

You have no idea that day you accidentally made a little boy cry was the day you met your future boyfriend. You just thought you met a crybaby coward.

And he thought he met the devil. If the devil was a chubby little girl with chipmunk cheeks and rolls on her arms.

You two had no idea you would meet again.

So far, the first day of kindergarten isn't going so great. All the other girls brought their barbies to class. You brought your stuffed animal snake—Mr. Slithers.

And now the other girls don't really like you. Because "snakes are icky!" Their words, not yours.

If they only knew this week was a rainforest theme in your head. Every day of the week, you would prepare to bring a new stuffed animal that lived in the rainforest. Today would be the green snake, then tomorrow, the tree frog and so on. But no one applauds your genius planning skills.

So you mope around for half of the day. The girls are playing princesses with their stupid barbies and they won't let you join because a snake cannot wear a ball gown.

You end up poking at the seesaw in the kindergarten playground. It's boring when there's no one else to sit on the other side. Mr. Slithers isn't heavy enough to seesaw with you either. You want your mommy.

"You!" a high-pitched voice shrieks.

Jumping, you whip your head around to see the little boy. No. The same little boy who you accidentally flung backward on the seesaw.

"Are you gonna throw me off the seesaw again?" he yells. For such a skinny little boy he has quite a loud voice.

"I didn't mean it!" you yell back.

"You need to apologize to me!"

"No!"

You run away again.

And just like a real big stupidhead, Yoongi tattletales on you to the kindergarten teacher, Mr. Kim. In your defense, you didn't even do anything to Yoongi at kindergarten, so Mr. Kim can't make you apologize to stupid Min Yoongi.

Mr. Kim agrees with your defense. But he doesn't approve of you using the word, stupid, so you have to apologize to Yoongi anyways. While you're positively livid, Yoongi is triumphant.

That is only the start of the rivalry.

In first grade, Yoongi calls you fat.

You aren't normally one to waste your time tattling to the adults, but Yoongi did it to you in kindergarten so it only feels right to get revenge. But apparently calling someone fat is much worse than calling someone stupid. Yoongi has to apologize to you and he has to sit in the time out corner. He also gets a call home so his parents are notified of his bad behavior.

In second grade, you start losing weight. Not because Yoongi called you fat. But because you figured you should start exercising to be as healthy as your gym rat parents. When you tell the second-grade class you want to become a football star and you've planned out your whole athletic pathway, Yoongi is the first one to rudely laugh at you. So you make sure to boo his presentation when he brags about writing a whole book by himself (it's called Dot Goes to School—pretty mediocre stuff). Both of you have your recess privileges taken away.

Staying in for recess with someone you absolutely despise is not worth the satisfaction you got from teasing them. So you and Yoongi become more discreet in your never-ending ways to spite each other.

In third grade, Yoongi calls you a stick during recess. He makes sure to say it loud enough so you can hear his insult but not as loud so the playground monitor doesn't hear. Sneaky brat. You turn to him with flashing eyes and tell him very upfrontly, "Says you."

The rivalry still exists in fourth grade, when both of you feel like you're too old to play on the playground. The seesaw incident is still ingrained in the backs of both of your heads, though. So even when you and Yoongi have your separate groups of friends, you still manage to be mean to each other.

For instance, the day before the annual fourth-grade square dance, you and your new group of friends spread a rumor that Yoongi has cooties. As a result, no one wants to be his partner the next day.

But then your partner, that brat, Park Jimin calls in sick on D-Day and so your plan backfires in your face. You dance with Yoongi. And now you have cooties too.

In fifth grade, girls are starting to talk about boys during recess. When the shy, cute Gayoung confesses her crush on Min Yoongi, you have to excuse yourself from the friend group. Instead, you go out on the fields to play soccer with the guys. Thankfully, cooties are 'for babies' in fifth grade, so you have free reign with the boys.

Park Jimin confesses he likes you in sixth grade. He tells you that you are pretty. But his confession was definitely not in your schedule. You're supposed to go to swim practice in five minutes. So you wave him off. Not because you hate him. But let's face it. The boy ditched you in fourth grade and you had to dance with Yoongi. Plus, now Jimin's Yoongi's friend. There is no way in hell you are going to butt noses with Yoongi's friend.

The whole grade goes in an uproar when they find out you rejected Jimin. You couldn't care less.

Seventh grade is weird. You finally get your period. And the new sex-ed class collectively makes everyone embarrassed. It also starts the influx of period jokes from yours truly, the boys. Whenever a girl is in a bad mood, the boys yell, "YOU MUST BE ON YOUR PERIOD!" You make note of every guy who says this. Then the second time they yell that to a poor girl, you hold up a tampon with ketchup on it. It shuts them up so well that all the girls in your grade start to carry around tampons and ketchup packets.

Surprisingly enough, Yoongi isn't part of the rowdy group of boys who make insulting period jokes. He's gotten much quieter over the years (middle school must've brought some sort of maturity on him), but he still finds ways to make your life miserable.

When there are rumors that Jimin will ask you out to the Halloween dance, you actually prepare to accept—maybe just to spite Yoongi. But turns out the whole rumor was a lie made up by the boy you despise. So you're rendered embarrassed.

In eighth grade, to your surprise, Gayoung asks Yoongi out. Of course, Yoongi would say yes. He knows you hate Gayoung. She had grown ample boobs and fit in with the popular girls who talked about boy bands and got dress-coded every day. You have no idea why such a popular girl would ask out a nerdy, rat-faced boy. But apparently, Yoongi is conventionally handsome. What a load of bullcrap.

It irks you even more when they become a revolutionary couple—the first time a girl has asked out a boy.

You make a bet with your friends that the couple won't last a week. Your wallet cries that year. You lose nearly ₩30,000.

By tenth grade, they are still dating.

You're starting to wonder if Yoongi somehow got his grubby hands on a love potion. There's just no way that whiny asshole can keep a girlfriend for that long. But according to your friend who is friends with the friends of the friends of Gayoung's friends, Yoongi is a good boyfriend. You want to gut yourself after hearing that.

Gayoung is always bragging about how Yoongi buys her flowers before class, and she makes sure everyone knows of this by posting pictures of the aromatic bouquets on Instagram. Yoongi often writes her little love poems and short stories, and though you're 100% sure Gayoung doesn't read them, she posts those online too. God, she is so annoying that you unfollow her. (You've blocked Yoongi's account a long time ago.)

For the most part, though, when hating Yoongi is not on your mind, your life is pretty normal. And you're definitely content. You and a sporty transfer student from America, Jungkook, have hit it off. It's fun taking him around everywhere to taste test all the convenience stores in Korea.

Until the day you catch Jimin and Gayoung lip-locking behind your favorite kimbap store. You and Jungkook look at each other with wide eyes. Before Jungkook can stop you, you snap a quick picture of the action and run away, tugging your friend along with you.

"Dude, you should delete that picture," Jungkook says for the billionth time.

"No can do," you tell him. "I'm sending it to Yoongi."

"To spite him?"

"Duh."

"Aren't you helping him by telling him his girlfriend is a cheater?" Jungkook challenges.

You squint. "You're actually right, Kook. Then I won't tell him."

"Isn't that a little bit too mean?"

"What??"

"I mean, they've been dating since eighth grade. It's been nearly two years, right?" Jungkook points out. "I think Yoongi deserves to know."

"Don't you dare!" you gasp.

"Sorry, Y/N," Jungkook shrugs. "It's just the right thing to do."

Two days later, Gayoung comes to school wearing not the school uniform but a short skirt and tight shirt. Her arm slings around Jimin, her apparent new boyfriend. Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

Rumor travels around fast. And they're all accurate for the most part.

But it's not very satisfying to see Yoongi missing from all the action. The whole school day, you wonder where the fuck the boy is. Maybe he's crying his guts out. You've never experienced heartbreak before, so you're not sure if you have the right to say Yoongi necessarily deserves it. You can say though, that he had it coming. After all, all those years he teased you, he hadn't felt a single bit of remorse.

Sucks for him.

It's dark by the time you begin to walk home from school. You'd stayed late to brush up on your horrible chemistry skills so you wouldn't completely fail the final test. On the walk back, you notice the familiar playground. You'd grown up with that thing. But it's been a while since you've cared enough to stare at it.

Usually, the rusty old playground is empty. But today, a figure sits in the shadows. More specifically on the seesaw.

It brings back memories. That had been the same seesaw that had started your rivalry with Min Yoongi. And someone's sitting on it.

You squint, your curiosity getting the better of you as you creep towards the figure. Oh god. Once you see the outline of the person, you know this isn't going to be a very fun experience. Ew, you think. Gross.

But that's until it occurs to you that the person is crying.

Holding your breath, you walk closer to the crying boy. He's shaking, hands covering his face. The other side of the seesaw is up in the air.

He's crying about Gayoung, you realize.

You breathe out. "Need someone to sit down to fling you out again?"

Yoongi jumps. He hiccups. Then he quickly wipes away the tears streaming down his face. "Shut up."

You grin, sitting down on the other side of the seesaw. And this time, neither of you fling off. It is completely balanced.

"What are you doing here?" Yoongi croaks when he realizes you're not going to be leaving any time soon. He sniffles, but for the most part, he hides the fact that he'd been crying very expertly.

"I dunno." You shrug. "What are you doing here?" When there's a pause, you add, "I didn't see you in school."

"Oh, didn't know you cared."

"I don't."

"Figured."

"Did you break up with Gayoung?"

Yoongi laughs scornfully. "No. She broke up with me."

"Yikes, really?"

"What is your deal, Y/N?" Yoongi sighs. "Are you going to laugh in my face? Tell me I deserve this?"

"Not anymore..." you grumble. "Because now there's no element of surprise."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "I reckon you spread the rumor?"

"...The rumor?"

"Yeah, the fucking rumor!" Yoongi shouts, throwing up his hands. "You're the one who told everyone Gayoung was cheating on me!"

"Woah, there! I didn't say anything about it!" you yell. "It's not my fault your ex decided to hook up with Jimin!"

"What??"

"Here! I have the fucking receipts!" You whip out your phone, aggressively swiping through your photos before landing on the exact one you were looking for. When you show Yoongi, his eyes turn wide but his posture deflates. He looks defeated.

"She actually cheated...?"

The way he says it with wide eyes and a slumped attitude makes you feel a tiny bit of pity. But the habit of being mean to Yoongi sticks.

"I'm not even surprised."

Yoongi glares at you.

"I mean," you say with an innocent shrug, "she's been eyeing other guys since you started dating her."

"I know..."

You are not about to show sympathy to Min Yoongi. You are not going to let down your guard. You are going to stay cold and emotionless—

"I'm... uh... I... er, I guess I'm sorry."

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow. "Why are you sorry?"

"Well, it just seemed like you really liked her—"

"Nah."

"Oh?"

"This is going to sound very stupid."

"Try me." You grin. "In my eyes, you always sound stupid. Remember? I got in trouble for calling you stupid in kindergarten."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "How could I forget?" He grips the seesaw handles. "I don't think I've ever really liked Gayoung."

"Damn, this is tea," you gasp. "Why bother dating her for so long, then?"

"Ha!" Yoongi laughs. "Good question, Y/N. I don't know," he says sarcastically. "I was probably trying to piss you off. Didn't think it'd last that long."

"Oh??" You raise your eyebrows. "But didn't I just see you cry over Gayoung?"

"Er—"

You definitely caught him in a lie. Though it's dark, you can imagine Yoongi flushing a bright shade of pink—he does that when he's guilty. Not that you cared enough to notice over the years.

"It's okay she's with Jimin now. Not your problem."

"Is this your half-assed attempt of trying to solace me?"

"No?" You make a face. "Why on earth would you think I'm trying to solace you, Yoongi? You called me fat in first grade."

"I see you still hold grudges."

"Oh, that's really my only talent," you snort.

"Aren't you a really good planner?"

"Me?" Is this a compliment you hear?—and from the Min Yoongi?

"Yeah, you're going to plan the graduation ceremony, right? They hand-picked you from the student council, didn't they?"

"Well, uh, yeah." You raise your eyebrows in both surprise and suspicion. "Didn't think you'd care."

"I don't."

Of course.

"Okay, fine by me."

"Why are you even here again?"

You pause. Actually, why are you here? You could've just simply walked away and never had this conversation with Yoongi. But you'd stopped. And now you're talking with him. You answer him truthfully. "I really have no idea."

Another pause.

"Are you gonna ask me to leave?"

"... No."

"Oh." You cock your head. "Okay."

The two of you stare at each other. A staring game commences.

But Yoongi blinks first, claiming you the victor of the little contest. "You can stay if you want."

You scoff. "Excuse me, I didn't know I needed your permission."

Yoongi throws his hands up in the air. "Do you always have to fucking pick a fight?"

"You're the one who starts them!"

"I didn't even say anything mildly rude."

Okay, he might kind of have a point. Maybe all those years of hating him have ingrained permanent hatred in your head, so whatever comes out of Yoongi's mouth seems like an insult that you have to respond to with equal rudeness by reflex.

"Where did we even go wrong?" you sigh, rubbing your forehead.

Yoongi snorts. "Literally right here. On this seesaw."

"You're right," you laugh. This is probably the first time you and Yoongi have agreed on something; it's a foreign feeling that doesn't quite settle right in your stomach.

"Remember when Jimin had a crush on you?"

"Oh stop—" Just one single sentence brings back so many memories.

"Now he's downgraded to girls like Gayoung," Yoongi snorts.

"Oh?" A wide smile stretches across your lips. "Are you saying I'm an upgrade compared to that vile girl?"

"When you put it that way, I'm not so sure."

In any other circumstance, you'd think Yoongi's attacking you again, putting up another unnecessary fight. But right now, it's obvious he's just teasing you.

"Let's face it, Yoongi. I'm better than your ex, aren't I?" you tease right back.

"Barely," he grumbles, but he mumbles under his breath, "but yes."

Thankfully, your owl ears pick up the last part and you grin haughtily. "That's all I needed to hear." Just by habit, you glance down at your watch, frowning when it reads a little past 10 p.m. You're definitely behind schedule right now. Strangely, though, it's kind of worth it, talking to your self-proclaimed nemesis without ripping each other apart with moderately hurtful words.

Yoongi takes notice of you checking the time. Always the same, he thinks. He can't remember the last time he saw you without a watch.

"Anyways... it's getting kind of late..." you say. But you're careful not to stand up from the seesaw—just in case you'll accidentally fling Yoongi off again.

Yoongi nods in agreement. "Yeah." But what he hears next is beyond what he would've ever thought would come out of your mouth next.

"Wanna get some cup ramen? I know a good convenience store nearby."

"With me??" The words slip out of Yoongi's mouth before he can maintain his stoic, chilled composure.

"Why not?" You shrug. "Maybe tonight's the night we can finally stop fighting and act civil for once."

"I am getting tired of the back and forth bickering," Yoongi admits. "Not a bad idea, Y/N."

"I come up with genius ideas once in a while." You flip your hair back and grin. "We just can't stay out before 12 because I need to plan my friend's birthday party before 1."

"I'll get you home by then."

"You're going to walk me home? How boyfriendly."

"It's a habit," Yoongi grumbles.

"A good habit. Keep it up, Min," you laugh. "Then you'll get a new girl in no time."

The two of you count to three before carefully getting off the seesaw together. There are no accidents this time. Everything seems... balanced.

The most what the fuck moment in your life comes when you wake up one morning and realize the person you text and hang out the most is, indeed, Yoongi. Months ago, the thought of him made your blood boil. Now, he's just a friend—a very close friend, too.

Entering eleventh grade with Yoongi by your side is weird. Every other school year, the two of you tried to stay away from each other as much as possible. Yet this year, it's the complete opposite. The two of you solace each other. Even if that involves heavy teasing and harsh verbal exchanges.

"You idiot!" Yoongi shrieks. "And you just let her get away with it?"

"Why yes, why yes I did!" you scream in your shrill voice that makes Yoongi almost flinch back. "What was I supposed to do? Yell at her and tell her I deserved to be class president and not her? Tell her to her face that she cheated the votes?"

"Yes?!"

"Well, I didn't have the guts!"

"Why do you always run away from your fucking problems?"

Yoongi's words pierce through your heart and suck up your anger, replacing it with regret. He’s right though. When something doesn't go the way you planned, you have a habit of ditching. You're afraid of the consequences that will follow when you freestyle everything. And Yoongi knows this.

"I-I... I just... It's easier," you sigh, slumping over your desk seat. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Fight back maybe?" Yoongi's tone is softer after he sees you become dispirited. "I mean, hey, you win some, you lose some."

"I know... I just feel like I'm always losing these days."

"It's okay," Yoongi says. His big hands awkwardly pat at your back. And as funny as it is that he's attempting to comfort you, you're actually well comforted. "Doesn't matter whether you win or lose. What matters is the experience."

"Wise words."

"Well, I'm a wise person." Yoongi gives you a shit-eating grin.

"Oh god."

Sometimes, Yoongi's the one who breaks down, though it's not as often as you do. But once the storm comes, it's hard to make it leave.

"Please don't talk to me right now."

"But Yoongi," you plead, knocking on the door to his room. "I had to practically beg your parents to let me in!" you whisper angrily. "Come on, open the damn door!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Do you want me to break the door down??"

Silence follows and a small click indicates that the locked door is now open. You carefully turn the knob and push. Yoongi faces you immediately and the way his eyes are red and his cheeks are wet is indicative of a beforehand hysterical crying session.

"Oh, Yoongi..."

"I said I don't want to talk about it," he mutters. But you know he's just saying that because talking about it will make him cry again. You know him too well.

You pull him into a hug. "Maybe music isn't for you," you say. "It's okay if you failed that path. There are many more to take."

He's silent, squeezing you tightly. But you don't mind the silence at all. It's more peaceful that way, and you know he's actually listening to you when he's not talking.

"You're good at writing aren't you?" you whisper, patting his back. "Maybe that's your path. And if it isn't, so what? Poke at every pathway until you find one that's just right for you."

It's advice for yourself as well. Yoongi's upset that he was rejected from a music audition he was preparing to pass for years; he knew he wanted to pursue music and he did it, though it might not have been very successful. You, on the other hand, have no idea what you want to do in the future.

"I guess we both have to start on new paths now, right?"

By twelfth grade, you and Yoongi are beginning to bicker like a married couple. At least, that's what Jungkook says.

"For the last time, we do not sound married!"

Jungkook rests his head on the palm of his hand. "Sure. Sure."

"The thought of even being romantically interested in Y/N gives me goosebumps," Yoongi snorts.

"But the good kind of goosebumps if you know what I'm talking about," Jungkook says. He wiggles his eyebrows in such a suggestive way that you mock vomit.

"Okay, gross," you groan. "The day I catch feelings for Yoongi is the day the whole world will end."

"Um, right back at you," Yoongi frowns. "Don't worry," he says, giving you a cocky grin. "I'm very repulsive. You'll never catch feelings for me."

"We'll see about that," Jungkook snickers.

Every year, Yoongi writes you a birthday letter. Even now, in college, he manages to find time to make the same effort he's made for the past two years. Every year, he somehow makes you cry with his elaborate words. And every year, Yoongi films it because he's a little shit.

This year though, the tone of the letter is much, much sweeter than you expected. Almost as if it's a love serenade and not a platonic letter to your best friend. The writing is elaborately flourished and fluffed up to the point it sounds like a love poem. And you swear Yoongi spritzed perfume on the envelope because the letter smells (shockingly) amazing. The message itself doesn't make you cry. Instead, after you finish reading it, you stare up at Yoongi's camera in shock, jaw dropped open but no words coming out of your mouth. Yoongi seems to like that reaction a lot, and he even zooms up on your dumbstruck face to make fun of it later.

He'd written ten things he loves about you. And it drove you crazy that you didn't know whether it was platonic or romantic.

Love, Yoongi. He'd signed the letter. Not the usual, From your bestest motherfucking greatest friend, Yoongi.

What the fuck did 'Love, Yoongi' even mean??

And it happens so that the two of you fight about it later on.

"This year's birthday video is the best one yet," Yoongi laughs as he tries to turn the camera around to show you the screen.

You jerk away, frowning. "That is not funny."

"Why? Didn't like my letter this year?" He's teasing you but you're annoyed.

"It was different."

"A good different?" Yoongi nudges your shoulder, a smug smirk plastered on his lips.

"Literally, please, stop. Before I wipe that smirk off your face."

"Okay, okay," Yoongi sighs, raising up his hands in defense. "I bet you're just salty you can't name ten things you love about me."

"You're right, right now, I can name zero things," you scoff.

"Liar. You wouldn't have stuck by my side for this long if you didn't love me."

The fact that he's right makes it more irritating.

"Fine. One. You're an asshole—"

"Come on, is that really a reason?" Yoongi laughs. "This isn't ten things you hate about me, you know."

"Hear me out. You're a certain species of asshole that I find slightly more bearable than any other asshole," you say. "I think you're a tolerable asshole. It's a compliment."

"Thanks?"

"Two. You're an idiot—"

"Is this how the rest of the reasons gonna go?" Yoongi scoffs incredulously. "My letter was heartfelt at least!"

"No, but you're a bearable idiot. The kind that irks your strings just enough to make you pissed but not enough to make you explode. No idiot is tolerable but at least once in a million years you give good advice." You shrug as Yoongi shakes his head in denial.

"I always give good advice."

You roll your eyes. "Three. You're not very good looking—"

"I shouldn't even have asked," Yoongi grumbles. "Why did I fucking bother?"

"No, but you're not ugly. Isn't that good news?" you giggle as Yoongi just shakes his head at you. "It's perfect! That way, you attract people with your personality and not your looks! It's a compliment," you add when Yoongi glares at you.

"Whatever," he says.

"Four!" you say triumphantly. "You are drama-free. Except with me. But I'm an exception because I'm special."

"You got that right," Yoongi mutters underneath his breath. "What about five?" Compared to a minute ago, he looks more interested in your list now.

"Five? Well, you're genuine," you say nodding your head. "You wouldn't let me walk around with an eyelash on my face or spinach stuck between my teeth."

"Yeah 'cause you'd embarrass me too because you'd be by my side," Yoongi protests.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that."

"Fine. Six?"

"Six... hm..." you hum. "You have pretty eyes."

Yoongi laughs out loud. "Thanks, I guess."

"Seven... let's see... hm..." You rub your chin thoughtfully. "Well, you put the toilet seat down for me."

"My mother didn't raise a hooligan."

"I actually agree with you on that one," you say, laughing. "For eight, I want to just say you're a good friend."

"You stole my number 8 on my letter to you!"

"Yoongi, you should just be glad I even repeated it back to you," you giggle. "Wanna hear nine before I forget?"

Your friend sighs but he nods.

"You're a very good writer. And I'm not just saying that to boost your already enormous ego or anything, but I genuinely think you can write," you say. "And I love that because then I get these good ass letters on special occasions. It's weird how you can choose each word so carefully that all of the meanings fit in this gigantic well-flowing story. And you'd think you'd use all these hard vocabulary words to throw me off, but your writing's easy to read and comprehend. It makes it more impactful." You quirk your brow at your friend who finally looks satisfied. "Is that enough?"

"Yes, now that's more like it!" Yoongi grins. "Butter up my ego a bit more, won't you?"

"Can't. I don't have a number ten for you." You shrug. "Sorry."

"C'mon, you can only think of nine reasons why you love me?" Yoongi leans into you, poking your cheek. "I thought of eleven but I had to take one off. This isn't very fair."

"Oh? What was the eleventh?"

"It was more of a joke so you don't need to know."

"Excuse me? I love jokes—even though I don't take them very well."

"Yeah, well, I especially don't want you to take this a bad way," Yoongi says.

"Was it something mean about me??"

"Kind of."

You frown, scrunching your nose. "Try me."

Yoongi shrugs. "Fine, then. I called you oblivious. Happy?"

You lean back from your friend, giving him a disgraceful look. "Me? Oblivious? First of all, no. And second of all, why would you love that about me?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you're so oblivious you can't even tell that I like you??"

One look at Yoongi and you can tell he's dead serious. "Woah," you breathe. You want to ask him to repeat what he just said to see if you heard him correctly the first time. But he's already looking a little impatient at your delayed answer. So you gape at him, muttering a soft, "Like? As in...?" You can't finish the sentence.

"As in love?" Yoongi finishes for you. "Sure."

"Bro..."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "I thought the letter made it obvious, Y/N."

"Well, I thought you were joking." You fidget with your hands. "Damn, Yoongi, now what the fuck am I supposed to say?"

"Do whatever you want with that information," he says, shrugging so nonchalantly that you wonder if this man even has feelings.

"Broo..."

"And if that means you're gonna keep saying 'bro,' then I guess that's fine too." He gives you a shit-eating grin.

"No, it's just that... wow. Since when??"

"Like, a year ago? Bit after Jungkook called us a married couple," Yoongi says. "But I'm so dead inside I hid it pretty fucking well. I kept thinking it'd go away too, but man, I still like you now, so I guess the feelings aren't going away anytime soon."

"But what are you proposing??" You run your hands through your hair. "That we go out??"

"Okay, you said it, not me."

You huff. It's weird. This dynamic you have with Yoongi. One moment you're bickering and the next, Yoongi's confessing his feelings for you. Strangely, though, you're not as turned off as you expected.

"One date."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. "One date?"

"You can buy me dinner, and if it goes horribly, we're going right back to friends," you bargain. "In the case that it goes well, then, uh, you tell me."

Yoongi laughs. "Oh, I'll be the one to tell you, all right."

And unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the way you look at it), he's right. Four days later, your relationship with Yoongi becomes official. It irks your strings that none of your friends are even the slightest bit surprised about your newfound romantic relationship with the man you'd known for way more than half of your life.

"We all saw it coming, Y/N," they tell you. "We're actually surprised you two didn't date sooner."

But Yoongi is actually a good boyfriend, so there are no regrets. Aside from the small bickering here and there (the married couple kind of arguing), your relationship with him is sound. And the fact that not much has changed in the way you treat each other since you began dating makes you wonder if you were technically in love with Yoongi this whole time but you were way too blinded by your stupid senses and habitual, platonic teasing that you didn't think you actually liked him romantically. It doesn't really matter now, though. Because you're with him anyway.

Yoongi's love language is quality time and coincidentally, so is yours. College becomes a blast. When you're not studying, you're with Yoongi and when you're not with Yoongi, you're 'studying,' but really thinking of your boyfriend.

Yoongi has a way of plaguing your mind. It's been like that since you were little, too.

Once out of college, things become more difficult. Marriage matures into a serious question that neither you nor Yoongi is ready for. So both of you put it off.

As soon as you secure a job as an event planner and Yoongi becomes a professional grant writer, the honeymoon phase of the relationship plummets to the ground.

For nearly eighteen years you were a victim of Yoongi's 'teasing.' His judgmental remarks. But there is a time and place to be a critique.

"Oh, come on, the food isn't even that bad, Yoongi. Just a little bland. That's it."

"There was a hair in my soup," your boyfriend complains. "I'm asking for another bowl."

"Okay, fine, but don't ask for the manager like last time."

"Last time, the waitress called me a tightwad!! What was I supposed to do?"

"Just let it slide? You yelled at her for bringing you bad food when she didn't even cook it! Can you please stop acting so above everybody?"

"Whatever." Yoongi sets down his silverware. "I'm gonna Uber home." He tosses you his credit card and it slides across the wooden table and stops right in front of your dish. "And I'm going to write a Yelp review of this shitty place."

"You're not a fucking entitled writer! Stop acting like one!" you call out to him as he turns his back to you and storms away.

You end up eating dinner at a restaurant by yourself. Yoongi's right, the place is shitty, and the food is bland, but it's not downright intolerable.

Often, these days, it feels like your relationship with Yoongi is spiraling downward. The two of you cannot seem to agree on anything. It reminds you when you'd hated him in your younger years. But you can't hate him now; you live with him.

He's unavoidable.

Usually, Yoongi drives. The car feels foreign to you only because you normally don't sit in the driver's seat. The short mixtape of songs Yoongi wrote and produced for you plays the moment you turn on the engine. He'd gifted that to you a few months ago, after one of your bigger fights. You let the soft serenades play as you drive home.

No matter how many times you and Yoongi fight, the two of you make it up to each other somehow. There is no fight without a resolution. Yoongi will be waiting for you when you get home.

And he is. He's waiting with a blueberry yogurt cake from Paris Baguette sitting on the kitchen island and a letter in his hand. A written apology. Because Yoongi thinks he conveys his feelings better in writing than with spoken words.

"I'm sorry for storming off..." he says almost shyly. The man is nearly twenty-five years old but he sounds and looks like a guilty child with his lips pulled out in a pout and his eyes glancing nervously at your face to see if you weren't going to yell at him. "I, uh... didn't write the Yelp review."

How can you stay mad at that?

"And I wrote you an apology..."

You walk closer to your boyfriend and hug him. "Thank you..."

"Yeah," he says. "And good news, the cake will be really flavorful compared to what you had for dinner."

You smile. "Good thinking."

After a storm, there is always a rainbow. When there is a down, there is an up. And vice versa.

"Can we please stop planning every single fucking second of our lives?" Yoongi says exasperatedly. He flings away the brochure you had handed him that detailed the week's trip to Hawaii down to the last minute. "We're going on vacation. This makes me feel like I'm going to a stupid summer camp."

"If we're going to Hawaii, we shouldn't just relax around in the hotel all day, Yoongi," you scoff, gathering the abandoned brochure and tugging it to your chest. "There's stuff to see on the islands. We need to try everything my friends did! Why would we even go to Hawaii if we're not going to do these fun activities?"

"Come on. 7 o'clock breakfast? 8 o'clock hiking up to the falls? 10 o'clock scuba diving in the ocean? 12 o'clock lunch at the top of a big ass hill that we have to climb up ourselves? 1 o'clock zip-lining meters in the air? 2 o'clock festival? I could go on, but isn't that too much? When can we breathe?" Yoongi shakes his head. "No way. And all of that's just in one day. And the second day is even worse. Y/N, I want to go there to rest."

"If you wanted to rest, then you can do it at home," you argue. "Why go to Hawaii to rest?"

"There are different types of resting," Yoongi sighs. "What's a better way to fall asleep than in front of the ocean? We get to relax in a hotel, which means we won't have to make our beds or cook our meals or even do the dishes. That's relaxing for me."

"Well, it's not relaxing enough for me."

"Come on, Y/N. We went to Banff and you planned every single second of the trip there. I thought it was miserable. Can we please relax just once? For literally one trip?"

"But I already booked everything..."

Yoongi curses. "Why are you always four steps ahead of everything? It's unnecessary!"

"Maybe I'm not four steps ahead and you're just four steps behind!"

"Oh, so you're telling me that everyone else in the world plans their days down to the last second." Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Bullshit, Y/N."

"It's not my fault you're so—so, fucking lazy!"

"I'm not lazy!" Yoongi's eyes flash as he slams the dinner table. "You're just too high maintenance! Fucking nobody can keep up with you!" Before you can react or even yell back, he pushes his chair away and stands up, stomping away in a fury. You can hear him enter his study. There's that familiar door slam again. And the click of the lock means you won't be getting in that room anytime soon.

You're left by yourself, clutching the Hawaii brochure to your chest. A little angry at yourself but a lot madder at your boyfriend. With a bitter scream, you toss the brochure in the trash and curl up in a ball at the side of the couch.

But the thing about you and Yoongi is that with time and space, you recognize each other's perspectives. The rest is history.

Three hours just crying out your pent-up anger gets the irritation out of your system. By the time you're done though, you're a little hungry and guilty. You make a few phone calls and switch things around.

"Hey." You knock on the door of Yoongi's study. You're too afraid to turn the knob yourself. "I know you're in there."

No answer.

"I canceled the excessive activities..." you whisper against the door. "We can plan the trip together... I mean, better yet, we don't even have to plan anything at all... We can be..."—it pains you to say but—"spontaneous."

"Go away. I'm trying to work."

Sometimes Yoongi takes a bit longer than you to come around.

But by dinnertime, he's crept out of his study and has already ordered takeout from your favorite restaurant. The steaming pile of white rice and perfect side dishes lie on the dinner table, waiting for you. He waits for you too.

"I got a new client," he says, looking down at his hands. "And I got your favorite food." You notice that he's holding the Hawaii brochure you'd thrown away. It's a little wet on the sides. Maybe because Yoongi had to wipe off the remnants of the leftovers in the trash that had stuck onto the paper. Your boyfriend finally looks up at you. Shyly. Almost cautiously. "Wanna compromise?"

"Compromise?"

"We plan half of the trip and wing the rest of it," he offers. Yoongi slides you the brochure. "See, so I was thinking..."

You've always hated roller coasters. They are almost always unpredictable with head-jerking twists and turns that bring you closer to vomiting the contents of your stomach rather than pure bliss. There are one too many ups and downs.

Yoongi likes to joke that your relationship with him is a roller coaster. Only because there are too many dips that rocket up to the sky only to plummet down again. You disagree. Because, eventually, no matter how shitty the ride is, roller coasters do end. Your relationship with Yoongi is not over.

You like to compare your relationship with Yoongi like the ocean waves. But during a tsunami. The ups are great; the towering waves give you a beautiful vantage point. And it's all fun and games until the waves crash down on everything you once loved, destroying them. And the process repeats so much that in the end, there is nothing left.

That's what you feel now. Empty.

Alone in the bed with Yoongi downstairs and nowhere to be seen near you.

After a while, even the highs of the relationship makes you feel numb. The lows wreck you past your breaking point. It takes more time to find resolutions—the fights go on for longer than days, even weeks.

When you were younger, fighting with Yoongi was irritating at most. Now, they leave you sobbing and drinking alone in the corner of the bathroom. But it's so late in the game.

You've known Yoongi for over eighteen years of your life, since kindergarten. You keep telling yourself that he's the only one in the world who could understand you; and you're the only one in the world who can understand him. But other than that, you can't find another reason why you're with him.

Sometimes, you listen back to the mixtape he made you years ago. The lyrics don't apply to you now. And this year, for your birthday, he half-assed a letter for you last-minutely because he was 'busy.' Busy drinking with his friends the night before. You've stopped planning your dates for months.

Actually, when was the last time you went on a date with him?

You can't recall.

Maybe the back and forth arguing you and Yoongi had gone through in the majority of your relationship was a sign—a bad sign. If only you hadn't met him on the seesaw that day. Then maybe none of this would've happened.

You might be dating someone you have things in common with. Maybe someone you don't argue with as much.

Falling asleep with tears in your eyes that keep the pillow wet until morning is an occurrence that you're too familiar with. It is an occurrence you want to stop. When Yoongi isn't downstairs by morning, you're thrown into further misery. He usually works from home... He must be really angry to leave without saying anything.

You eat breakfast by yourself. Lunch consists of ramen. And dinner... Yoongi's still not home so you skip the meal altogether.

By 9 p.m., you look at your phone. You don't want to be the first person to break—the first person to apologize—but you worry. Will he hang up on you? Tell you to go away? The possibilities seem endless.

So much thinking hurts your head. Some fresh air might do the trick. Before you know it, you're wandering around a familiar rusty playground again. It brings back childhood memories. When your hand trails across the paint-chipped monkey bars, you're brought back to when you were only six years old. The towering obstacle had looked so big when you were little. Now, you could easily cross the bars by simply walking.

It's strange to see the once-bustling playground be completely empty and in the dark. You hear that they're going to tear down this place to construct a little convenience store so no one must've visited this playground in a very long time. You'll miss it when it's gone. You had a lot of fun around here.

Just as that thought passes through your head, your eye catches sight of the seesaw.

Ah, the start of everything.

Slowly, you walk towards it. Each step makes your feet sink further in the smoothed over gravel but you manage to sit at the very edge of the seesaw. Immediately, the other side flings up in the air. It reminds you of when you flung Yoongi in the air. A pretty funny memory. But not right now. Thinking about Yoongi now hurts.

You hate it when you start to contemplate the worst-case scenario. A breakup. Moving out. Stress. Tears.

You run your fingers across the rusty handle of the seesaw. Hopefully, things don't come to that. But how much longer can you handle the arguments? They seem to be elongating as time passes. What if one day, the argument lasts a month? Several months? A year?

If there is one thing in your life that you strive to achieve, it's predictability. With Yoongi, there is none of that. He makes last-minute plans out of nowhere and doesn't tell you until the last second. Then you have to go on a frenzy to reschedule everything. It is a cycle that you've become sick of. And he's sick of you planning everything.

That has been the issue of the last ten fights.

The same issue.

And it's unfixable.

You and Yoongi are rock bottom on the very floor of the Mariana Trench. The back and forth game of banter has turned into something more serious, and it just isn't as light-hearted and funny anymore.

"Hey."

You nearly fall off the seesaw at the sound of Yoongi's voice. He's got his hands shoved in his pockets and he looks like he was awake for more than 24 hours.

"H-Hey," you say.

"The seesaw, huh?"

"Yeah." You nod. "The seesaw."

Yoongi smiles but it's not a very happy one. Even now, you don't think either one of you wants to apologize for the fight.

"I've been thinking," Yoongi sighs. He doesn't spare you another glance before he sits on the other side of the seesaw. You're suddenly jerked up in the air. There used to be a balance but it seems like Yoongi's gained some weight—or you've lost a lot. "Remember when I said our relationship is like a rollercoaster?"

"And I said I disagreed."

"Right." Yoongi sighs. "I take that back. We're not like a rollercoaster. We're in a game."

"A game?"

Yoongi gestures at the seesaw. "This is our game."

"...The seesaw?" You raise an eyebrow at the man but Yoongi doesn't budge.

"Yes. Look." Yoongi pushes off the gravel with his feet, putting himself in the air while sinking you to the ground. "And when you push..." Following his words, you launch yourself back in the air. Yoongi looks up at you as he sighs. "We're always on opposite sides, opposite places."

"Even when we try to balance," he continues, trying to lift his body to bring you down to the same level as him, "we fail." He ends up higher than you now and you look up at him.

"Some game this is..." you mutter.

"It's a game of ups and downs," Yoongi tells you. "It's tiring, isn't it?"

"Of course it is."

"And like all games... there is an end."

You raise both eyebrows. "Oh."

"From day one, you know... we weren't really supposed to get along," Yoongi says. "But somehow seeing each other every day, bickering with each other... all of that let us be in closer proximity with each other. And then we thought we were meant to be."

"You're analyzing our relationship?" you scoff.

"Don't act like you haven't done the same, Y/N."

You're silent.

"It doesn't matter whether we love each other at this point, Y/N... Does it? Love or not, I don't think I can live like this."

It's ridiculous. You're having a grown-up discussion possibly leading to a breakup on a fucking seesaw of all places.

"You want to separate?" Your voice comes out smaller than you expected. When it becomes a reality, it's much harder to digest.

"You've been thinking about it too, right?" Yoongi sighs. "I mean, I heard you call your mom the other day. And it didn't sound too good."

Guilty. "Well, yeah, I've been thinking about it... Just... I just didn't think it'd become a reality so soon." And you always thought you would have initiated the breakup, not the other way around.

"Yeah... I felt bad you always took initiative with things so I decided to save you the stress and do it myself."

"Wow. Thanks." You shake your head. "Real thoughtful."

"Right?" Yoongi grins. "I don't think a lot will change if we break up. We've always hated each other a little."

You let out a wry laugh. "I'll never forgive you for calling me fat."

"And I'll never forgive you for calling me stupid."

"Looks like we're even."

"Yeah, for once." Yoongi shrugs. "I guess we can be platonic roommates until I find another apartment."

"Sounds good to me." You ignore the tears welling up in your eyes as you try to smile. "Let's get off this seesaw to seal the deal then."

"The end of the game." Yoongi's voice shakes just enough for you to know he's crying.

And as the two of you walk back to your shared apartment with tears streaming down your faces, you realize you wouldn't have it any other way. A breakup any later would be regretful—even wasteful of time. A breakup any earlier would've left you to separate forever. A breakup now is perfect.

You're acquainted enough to still possibly be friends. But not bound by marriage to make the procedure worse and more complicated.

Of course, you love Yoongi. But sometimes, you love the wrong people—the people you don't belong with, the people who won't make you happy. You're just glad you didn't run away in the beginning. Yoongi taught you a difficult rivalry, a difficult friendship, a difficult relationship. But you don't always have to go the hard way.

When a relationship becomes like a game—repetitive with the addition of wins and losses—that's when you know you can stop.

You'll be on the easy route now and find someone who is as crazy about planning as you.

You look up at Yoongi. His cheeks are wet with tears but he doesn't necessarily look sad. Instead, he looks hopeful. Like he'll find somebody who can appreciate his love for leaving sarcastic Yelp reviews or somebody who loves spontaneity as much as he does.

And when he finds that special somebody, you'll be happy for Yoongi. But, of course, not before you tease the living shit out of him first.

—masterpost

—masterlist

#ficswithluv #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanfairygarden #btswritingcafe #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts #bts fanfiction #propinquity #okay let's pretend i totally posted this fic last friday #like halfway thru this week #i remembered i never posted on friday omg clown #🤡🤡 i don't even think i've been on social media #school rlly said no❤️

219 notes · View notes

seasonofthewicth · 4 years

Note

Proposal prompt (quarantine questions au maybe?): “oh my god I’m marrying an idiot” with “...we’re getting married?” or someone accidentally telling the other about their plans to propose Hope it makes sense what I’m saying sorry clarity is not my friend. Btw you’re awesome!

AN: Hi thank you so much for this prompt! I hope this is sort of what you were imagining and that you enjoy it.

This is a sequel to quarantine questions - part 1 - part 3

word count: ~1.5k

------

Aelin knew she wanted to marry Rowan, had known it for a while. After four years together it was something they had discussed a number of times, but it had never been in a concrete sense, and Rowan was yet to propose.

The first time it had come up had been when Lorcan had proposed to Elide. Aelin had been thrilled for their friends, as had Rowan, and the night of their engagement party she had drank one too many and slid one of the inflatable ring decorations onto Rowan’s finger, slurring that one day she’d make an honest woman out of him.

The rest of their discussions had been slightly more serious; they had discussed how one day in the future they would like to get married in Aelin’s home country of Terrasen but incorporate the culture and traditions of Wendlyn. They would make sure that the essence of each of them was joined in the ceremony that would celebrate their love.

They had discussed how Aelin was looking forward to one day becoming Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, but how she would continue teaching as Miss Galathynius. She had felt an element of surprise when Rowan had told her he would like to become Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius.

She knew both of their families would be thrilled with the idea, Rowan’s mother especially loved Aelin and Aelin knew she bugged Rowan occasionally about when he would propose.

Rowan hadn’t proposed yet, and she wasn’t expecting him to do so any time soon; she knew that with the events of the global pandemic many people were having weddings cancelled and postponed, so it was something that hadn’t been brought up for a while.

But; she could be patient. She loved Rowan and knew that she wanted to marry him and that he wanted to marry her, the timing was unimportant. She had other things to concentrate on anyway.

Her students in her classes had grown accustomed to their online learning, now many weeks into the school closures, and she had become more accustomed to teaching online. She had found ways of incorporating props to make her teaching more of a historical story telling session to keep her students engaged, rather than trying to talk them through a dull powerpoint presentation.

She wanted to make sure that her students were still learning, not just being tested.

She had lamented how she felt her students’ education was lacking to Rowan many evenings over a glass of wine, but he always reassured her that she was doing her best, and that engaged students were better than nothing. She knew he shared her concerns of his own classes, and she did her best to return his reassurance.

She was currently rifling through one of the storage cupboards in their house, in one of their spare bedrooms, looking for a hat that she knew could be useful in her retelling of one of the wars of Adarlan’s past when she found it.

The cupboard was filled with a random assortment of junk, things that they had both brought with them when they moved in together just over a year ago and had been to reluctant to donate but didn’t often use. She was tearing through old bags and clothes, old accessories and trinkets when she found the small, velvet box.

Her breath caught in her throat.

No. She was surely getting ahead of herself. Rowan wouldn’t hide an engagement ring in a cupboard full of random junk.

She sat back on her heels, turning the box over between her fingers. She didn’t dare look inside.

Did she put it back and pretend it never happened? Pretend she had never found the ring and act surprised when he proposed.

She was definitely getting ahead of herself; she hadn’t even looked inside the box yet and it might not even hold a ring.

She sighed and plopped her hands into her lap, the box nestled between her palms.

She closed her eyes and pulled the lid of the box open.

She slowly peeled back her eyelids and let out a sharp gasp.

It was beautiful.

Standing bright against the black velvet inside of the box was a ring. A shining golden band held a glistening, oval emerald. The gem was surrounded by smaller diamonds, laid in a loop, framing the stone like a halo. Each of the diamonds pointed outwards giving the ring a unique silhouette.

Her hand flew to her cheek as tears brimmed in her eyes, but she was interrupted by the sound of their front door.

Rowan was back from his trip to the supermarket.

“Hey gorgeous, I’m back.” She heard him call, the rustle of his shopping bags muffled by the distance. “Where are you?”

“Upstairs,” Her voice was weak, and she cleared her throat and tried again.

She rose to her feet at she heard his footsteps thumping up the stairs.

He appeared in the doorway; his lips spread in a wide smile. His silver hair was un-styled and flopping across his forehead, strands of it brushing his eyelids where it had grown long since her failed attempt at cutting it herself once the barbers had closed.

“What is this?” She held the box up to him, the emerald catching the light and glowing.

A guilty look flashed across his face, eyebrows drawing together slightly.

“I think you know what that is,” He let out a soft laugh, coming into the room further. The blush spreading across his cheeks answered her question enough.

“Why would you hide this in a cupboard of junk?” She asked incredulously.

He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“I thought it would be a safe hiding place, I didn’t know you would go snooping.”

She scoffed, but he grabbed her hand and gave it a playful squeeze.

“I’m not a snoop,” She pouted at him but let out a gust of a laugh.

“Gods, I’m marrying an idiot.” She shook her head, but her cheeks strained where she smiled.

“We’re getting married?” He asked, teasing her. “I haven’t even asked you yet.”

He held his hand out in the small space between them, palm upturned in an unspoken request for the ring.

“This wasn’t how I wanted to do this,” He murmured as she slipped the box into his waiting hand.

He took a step back from her and knelt down on one knee in front of her.

Her heart took off, pounding a relentless rhythm as he positioned himself. Holding the ring up to her in one hand, the other cradling one of hers.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,” He started, and a gentle sob escaped from her throat. She sniffled as he paused to smile reassuringly up at her.

“I love you. So, so much and I want to spend every day of the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up next to you, share all of my best days with you and make you smile every day. I want to have children with you and grow old with you and be with you forever, to whatever end.

“I would be honoured to call you my wife and you would make me the happiest man alive if you agreed to marry me.”

He paused, swallowing as he looked up at her, his gaze so full of love and his voice thick with emotion.

“Aelin, my love, will you marry me?”

She nodded, a few tears breaking free and slipping down onto her cheeks.

“Yes,” She whispered. “Yes, I will.”

He rose, sweeping her up into his arms, as he pressed his cheek to the crown of her head. He leaned down to press his lips to her own, only leaning back to whisper his adoration onto her lips.

“I love you,” She whispered back, her palms cradling each of his cheeks and she pressed her lips firmly to his own.

He pulled back even further and grabbed her left hand. He slotted the ring onto her fourth finger, providing a reassuring weight she hadn’t known she missed.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against the ring.

“Future Mrs Whitethorn.” He grinned and she let out a squeal as he hoisted her up by the thighs and turned to carry her to their bedroom.

------

The following week, she was in the middle of another of her dramatic historical retellings of a lesson when Evangeline interrupted with a question.

“That’s a really beautiful ring, Miss G.” She smirked. “Did Mr Whitethorn buy it for you?”

Aelin couldn’t fight the blush that flooded her cheeks.

“Thanks Evangeline, that’s very kind. And yes, it was a gift from Mr Whitethorn.”

Her heart warmed as her students rushed to congratulate her, and she couldn’t help but let her eyes drift to the photograph of herself and Rowan sitting on her desk, next to her computer.

In the photo he was stood behind her, his arms encasing her waist, both of them smiling brightly at the camera. She sighed, imagining that day when their wedding photos would fill the space next to it.

tags:

@perseusannabeth

@superspiritfestival

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@spyofthenightcourt

@sleeping-and-books

@jlinez

As always I hope I haven’t missed anyone and please let me know if I have!

#rowaelin #rowaelin fic #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fic #rowaelin fanfic #rowan x aelin #my fics #my writing #rowaelin au

203 notes · View notes

ohayohimawari · 3 years

Text

And it was Love at First Brawl

A drabble written for Day 7 of @kakaobiweek Violet | Music | Fantasy

This is another humorous piece appropriate for teen-and-up readers and set in a modern AU.

This drabble is heavily inspired by my good friend @azuzeldraws incredible art series, Metal Konoha, and I dedicate this chapter to her. Thank you, Zu, for letting us use your amazing work to promote this event!

And it was Love at First Brawl

It was one of those Friday nights when Kakashi left the restaurant with a stomach full of his favorite supper and an empty soul after dining alone.

Though the day neared its end, Konoha’s club district was just beginning to wake. The streets were full of jaywalkers, inexperienced parallel-parkers, and the night owl versions of early birds lined up in boisterous queues waiting for the bars to open.

Kakashi felt entirely out of place and maybe almost too old for this scene while he dutifully waited at the corner for the pedestrian crossing light to signal his turn. He stepped into the crosswalk once it was safe, and he saw a man on the opposite side, jogging towards the intersection to cross before the light changed.

Kakashi stopped in his tracks in the middle of the street, entirely entranced.

He watched the individual blades of the other man’s black, unruly hair as they bounced with each step. He wore a t-shirt that fitted him like he was born to wear it and a healthy glow on every inch of exposed skin. His sparkling eyes met Kakashi’s as he trotted past him on the street and offered a greeting through a roguish grin. “Hey.”

And that was all it took.

Being a classic lit teacher, he had a multitude of words at his disposal. That man was vivacity personified, and Kakashi turned on his heel, following him with his eyes. The dark-haired man ran right up to the door of the seediest bar on the street and gleefully skipped up the stairs. He exchanged laughter and a handshake with the bouncer and disappeared inside.

The pedestrian light flashed red, alerting Kakashi that he still stood in the middle of the street. His feet moved of their own accord, and a moment later, his brain agreed with their plan. He retraced his steps, abandoning his intention to go home, knowing he would abandon much more than that for a chance to meet the stranger that charmed him.

As driven as he was, Kakashi hesitated for a moment outside of the club, assessing it. The sidewalk in front of it was littered with empty bottles and cigarette butts, and two people appeared to be doing something he didn’t want to interrupt in the shadows of the alley next to it. Then, he assessed himself.

He was dressed more casually than usual, out for a date with nobody but him, wearing a t-shirt that featured a band called ROOT. He had no idea who they were, or why they used all capital letters, but his students chose it from the trendy store Boiling Subject as a gift for him, and it was comfortable after wearing a tie all day. Deciding that his attire was appropriate for the venue, Kakashi walked up the stairs that led to the door, where he was stopped by the same menacing bouncer that laughed only moments before.

“You sure you wanna do this?” The man growled through scarred lips.

“Pretty sure,” Kakashi replied, though his confidence wavered.

“We don’t want any trouble.” The man’s muscles bulged in a show of strength as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I don’t want to bring any,” Kakashi replied, honestly.

“Let him in, Ibiki.” A pony-tailed bartender wearing a high-cut shirt that showed more cleavage than fabric chastised the bouncer.

“Whatever you say, Anko,” Ibiki moved aside to allow Kakashi into the bar.

As foreboding as the exchange was, it caught the attention of the handsome dark-haired stranger who stood at the bar. Bolstered, Kakashi stood in the space next to him.

“What can I getcha, hon?” Anko tossed a stained cardboard coaster onto the bar in front of him.

“A beer,” Kakashi ordered as if he’d never been to a pub before, too nervous to recall his favorite drink.

Anko retrieved a bottle from the cooler behind her while Kakashi withdrew a few bills from his wallet. Then, he wrapped his hand around the bottle of Lone Ninja Star she offered after opening it with her teeth.

Kakashi ignored how unhygienic it was to take a sip from the bottle as he did it, glancing around the bar, looking everywhere but at the man that led him there. It was half-full of patrons in various stages of sobriety and had a stage all set up and waiting for a band to perform. When he finished noting where all the emergency exits were, the most incredible thing happened.

“Cheers,” Mr. Vivacity said, bringing their beer bottles together in a toast.

“Cheers,” Kakashi replied, then pulled a long swig from the bottle, savoring the moment that the man of his dreams had spoken first.

“So, uh,” the dark-haired man glanced down at Kakashi’s shirt, and a chuckle bubbled out of him, “you like this band too?” He tilted his head in the direction of the stage.

“Um, yeah," Kakashi stammered, "I mean, yes. Yes, I do."

"Cool," Mr. Vivacity replied with a smile that made Kakashi's knees buckle. "Which of their CDs is your favorite?"

Kakashi's quick mind kicked into gear on the spot. If the band had multiple releases, then the safest answer would be, "I think their first one."

"Really?" The dark-haired man appeared pleasantly surprised. "So, you're an old-school fan, huh?"

“Yep, I guess I am,” Kakashi laughed a little awkwardly and brought his beer back to his lips.

“I think my favorite track on that one is, Kill Me With Your Kekkei Genkai,” Mr. Vivacity nodded, thinking aloud, and Kakashi felt his eyes bulge, worried that he might not be able to keep up the facade. But then he was spared when the other man suddenly changed the subject. “By the way, my name is—”

“Crybaby Tobi, you finally made it!” A man with slicked blonde hair and wearing a shirt with religious cult symbols literally crashed into their conversation, spilling his beer on Kakashi’s shirt.

The unwelcome interruption glanced at him. “My bad,” he drawled unapologetically, looking down at the soiled shirt. Then, his eyes shot up to meet Kakashi’s.

“WHOA! You’ve got balls, man!”

“Thank you,” Kakashi decided to take it as a compliment, turning towards the bar to grab a few napkins. He blotted at his shirt when Anko shouted to him that there was a hot air dryer in the men’s room, and, as much as Kakashi didn’t want to walk away from Mr. Crybaby before he could learn his real name, he didn’t want to stand there like an idiot in a wet ROOT t-shirt.

By the time he exited the bathroom, a makeshift merchandise table had appeared near it, so he bee-lined to it to learn more about the band to contribute to a conversation about them. At least, now he knew the band’s name was ANBU, and he wondered what was up with bands using all capital letters.

He had barely begun to browse the tracklist on the back of one of the CDs when the purple-haired, facial-pierced woman at the table asked, “You gonna buy that?”

Something about her tone made Kakashi feel obligated to pull out his wallet, and he handed over a twenty-dollar bill.

“I don’t have change for that,” she deadpanned, bored, and sarcastic.

Suddenly, the bar erupted with shouting, so Kakashi quickly grabbed a second CD to even out the exchange and hurried back to the bar and Mr. Vivacity, or Crybaby, or whoever he was.

Then, his heart sank when he saw that the other man wasn’t there anymore.

Kakashi stood in front of the stage feeling like the biggest fish out of water when the club’s sound system screamed into life with the ear-splitting sound of feedback through the amps. Kakashi covered his ears and spun around in time to catch the band taking their positions onstage.

The singer set down a six-pack next to his mic and yanked one can of beer free from it. He held it sideways in his hand, pulled out a kunai, and stabbed it in the middle before bringing the punctured hole to his mouth.

“Tenzō! Tenzō! Tenzō!” The crowd chanted while he shotgunned the beer and cheered when he crushed the empty can against his head. He grabbed the microphone in front of him when his large, almond eyes made bigger by copious amounts of black eyeliner landed on Kakashi.

“What the fu —” He roared, launching himself off the stage, tackling Kakashi to the ground.

Even though he was a classic lit teacher, Kakashi held his own for a long time in a fight against a bar full of punks until he took one bottle to the head too many and woke up in the alley next to the bar.

“Hey,” Kakashi winced as he turned his head to see who spoke to him, already recognizing that voice and feeling a little happier than concussed. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Kakashi muttered, “thanks, Mr. Crybaby.”

“It’s Obito,” the other man laughed, “and you’re welcome, Mr. Metalhead.”

“I didn’t fool you for a second, did I?” Kakashi licked at his fattened, split bottom lip, hoping he looked like he deserved sympathy. “I’m Kakashi, by the way.”

Obito snickered and pressed a bag of ice against Kakashi’s head. “I figured you didn’t quite know what you walked into, wearing a ROOT t-shirt to an ANBU gig.”

“What was that all about?”

“Tenzō used to be the drummer for that band, but he had a big blow-up with their manager, Danzō, so he quit and formed his own band. There’s a lot of bad blood there.”

Kakashi looked down, embarrassed, not knowing what to say and feeling like a total idiot.

“Why did you come to the bar?” Obito asked quietly.

Kakashi sighed through his nose. If he learned anything that night, it was that honesty probably came with less violence. “You.”

“Me?” Obito asked, even more timidly.

“Yeah,” Kakashi glanced up at him. “You passed me on the street, and, I… I just had to meet you,” he felt a little like a weirdo admitting it out loud, but he was past the point of stopping now. “I dunno, I, I just had a feeling, and I didn’t want to let you slip away.”

“Me too,” Obito confided, lowering the bag of ice, and Kakashi peered at him through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “I was just about to run back out when you showed up at the door. I uh, I’m the sound guy here,” he tilted his head towards the bar, “and I was running late; otherwise, I would’ve stopped right there in the crosswalk. But when I saw the band was running late, I was about to go after you,” he ended with a shy smirk.

“You’re the sound guy?” Kakashi’s brain was turning to mush and it had nothing to do with how many blows he took to the face.

“Yeah, I, uh,” Obito brought the ice back up to Kakashi’s head, “I messed with their levels hoping the feedback would distract Tenzō long enough for you to get out of his line of sight, but,” he grimaced.

“You wanna go for a drink with me?” Kakashi mumbled, knowing he couldn’t embarrass himself anymore that night.

Obito chuckled at him and held up his hand. “How many fingers do you see?”

Kakashi focused on the fingers in front of his face. “Three?”

Obito laughed louder and stood up, “Wrong.” He helped Kakashi to his feet, “Looks like Konoha ER is our first date.”

#kakaobiweek2021 #kakaobi #kakashi #obito #day 7 #hima writes

21 notes · View notes

onetoomanyfilms · 3 years

Text

My Heart’s Always Yours - Part One

Luke Patterson x FemaleOC!Character - Soulmate AU

Hi everyone! Here is Part One of my Luke Patterson story! Thank you so much for the love on the taster...this part is focused in on Luke’s POV. This is quite long so, I hope you enjoy!

Mya lives in a world in which everyone has a soulmate: they share a song. However, finding the person who shares a singular tune with them is near, nigh impossible, so hardly anyone finds them. Mya’s 17, she thinks she knows better than to believe in soulmates. Until three ghosts pop into her best friend’s life and she has to rethink what she thought she knew for certain.

Songs included:

‘Wow’ - Savannah Lee May, JATP Cast

‘Bright’ - Madison Reyes, Charlie Gillespie, Owen Patrick Joyner, Jeremy Shada, JATP Cast

‘IDK You Yet’ - Alexander 23

Teaser Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Masterlist

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

Today was the day they’d get Julie back into the program. Whether Julie was fully on board with it or not. They’d rehearsed it with her time and time again last night, the boys knew she was going to kill it. So Luke was confused when she looked annoyed.

They’d decided to come support her. Alex and Reggie had been pacing the garage waiting for any news of how it was going. Luke took charge and, taking them each by the hand, zapped them over to what seemed to be a school hall. He didn’t know how he got here, he just felt this sense of searching for Julie and he found her.

“Yeah we make them say wow!”

A lot of colours flooded Luke’s peripheral vision. He turned his head to see a group of girls in vibrant clothes, performing amazingly he wasn’t ashamed to say. They were good. But the glare he felt on the side of his face from Julie snapped him out of it, the slight bobbing he was doing to the beat coming to a halt. Then he followed Julie’s gaze to Alex, who seemed like he was having the time of his life. With little slap of his arm, Luke told him to cut it out; no words needed.

As the song came to an end, Luke began to see why Julie was so aggravated as the one in the bright pink took centre stage, standing directly in front of the other band members in a line. “WE LOVE YOU CARRIE!” Luke zoned out for a minute. What about the others? “… make sure to check out my new music video!” And with that they sauntered off, swaying their hips as they went. Together they had such presence on stage, why didn’t she share the glory?

“Now’s your chance, go talk to her.” Luke turned his head to see the girl from Julie’s house earlier walking away from them towards the seating area. “What are you waiting for?”

“Yeah, I mean you look nervous. Like yack in a bowl nervous.”

Julie looked up at Luke. There was this sparkle in her eyes trying to break through the utter terror she felt. “I wouldn’t have given you the song if I didn’t think you were gonna rock it.” He tried to be energetic, hoping the positivity would build her up. It may not have been a lot but hopefully, it was enough to get her on that stage. “Now there’s a piano on that stage with your name on it.” She took off towards backstage.

Approaching the keyboard, Luke started to feel nervous himself. There were butterflies in his stomach. He knew how much this meant to her and all he wanted was for her to rock it. She tried to play a chord but they all knew it was the wrong one. Looking out at the hall, she looked like she could’ve bolted at any minute.

“You got this!”

Of course, there was a part of Luke that thought that maybe, just maybe, they could’ve been soulmates but there was this part of him telling him: this wasn’t it. He remembered back to the night before. Reggie lounging on the sofa after taking a shower. He couldn’t really get the hang of it so far but he was a determined little fella. He’d get that shower at some point, Luke knew that much. The leather jacketed boy asked “do you think we still have soulmates?” Luke hadn’t paid much attention to that thought before. But now, he couldn’t get it out of his head.

“Sometimes I think I’m falling down.”

Luke mimed along to the words, urging her to keep going. She was insane. The talent she had, he couldn’t imagine meeting anyone like her.

“Life is a risk, but I will take it…”

It was building up to the chorus. He felt the chords vibrating through his body. His hands making the chords and strumming on an invisible guitar. He looked over at the boys. He could see they felt the same. They wanted to be on that stage.

And the next minute, they were.

“And rise, through the night, you and I, we will fight to shine together.”

Smiling at Julie, the joy he felt was indescribable. He almost felt complete at that moment. It was then he noticed the audience. They were looking at him. Actually looking at him. This couldn’t be happening, but he loved it.

“Uh, is this really happening?” Julie had moved next to him, looking completely confused. He couldn’t stop smiling. “Just go with it.” He took the mic, taking the next verse. Julie riled up the audience whilst the other boys were in their element. The rest of the song went by in a flash. They soaked up the applause until they literally flashed away, appearing again at the side of the stage by the audience.

What just happened?

———————————————————————————————————

The boys were still reeling off of what had happened. They were seen by the whole school whilst they were singing with Julie. It was amazing and none of them could contain their excitement. After leaving Julie talking to her friend, they decided to let off some steam by running around the corridors. Honestly, it felt freeing. He had never liked school much when he was alive but sprinting through the halls of a place he hated, made him feel alive.

It wasn’t until they heard a faint sound of strumming that they stopped. “What do you think that is?” Reggie was always curious. “I don’t know.” Alex always preferred a certain answer. “Let’s go find out.” Luke wanted to explore. Even though they didn’t have to be quiet, they found themselves tiptoeing towards a room past two large doors. A piano sat to the left, chairs scattered throughout the middle and a girl and her guitar sitting in the corner. Her eyes red, puffy. He could tell she had been crying, a twang ricocheting in his own heart. He’d been there before too.

But he didn’t realise just how similar it was until he heard the lyrics. Alex had already picked up on it. His gaze lingering on Luke as he waited for him to react. Reggie was still smiling, living off the high of performing again. Then he looked at Alex and felt that he was missing something.

“How can you miss someone you’ve never met. Cause I need you now but I don’t know you yet. But can you find me soon because I’m in my head? Yeah…”

“I need you now but I don’t know you yet.” Luke whispered the words to himself. They were the same words he had written 25 years ago in his bedroom. Who knew he would hear them again here. He began to approach her, Alex’s hand only grazing his arm in an attempt to stop him. Luke was never the best at first impressions. “You’re singing my song.” It came out harsher than he meant it. But he figured she wouldn’t hear him anyway. That’s the upside of being a ghost, no awkward first…

“Excuse me?” She’d heard him. She was looking at him. Right in the eyes. There was a wave of disbelief clouding her eyes, but that seemed to only be there to disguise the nervous tones underneath. He broke eye contact to glance at Alex and Reggie. They seemed just as surprised. He took in a deep breath, attempting to build up some courage after the seemingly stand-offish introduction he just made. “That song I wrote it.”At that moment, her face fell slightly.

“Oh.”

#luke patterson #luke patterson x oc #luke patterson au #soulmate #soulmate au #julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #julie molina #reggie peters #alex mercer #julie #luke #alex #reggie #jatp fandom #original character #fandom #fanfic #luke patterson imagine

48 notes · View notes

ucflibrary · 3 years

Photo

Pride Month has arrived!

While every day is a time to be proud of your identity and orientation, June is that extra special time for boldly celebrating with and for the LGBTQIA+ community (yes, there are more than lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender folx in the queer community). June was chosen to honor the Stonewall Riots which happened in 1969. Like other celebratory months, LGBT Pride Month started as a weeklong series of events and expanded into a full month of festivities.

2021 is also the 5th anniversary of the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando where 49 members of our community were murdered on June 12, 2016. On the main floor of the John C. Hitt Library there will be display cases with items from the University Archives relating to Pulse memorials as well as a display wall honoring the lives lost. Both of these library memorials were created in partnership with UCF LGBTQ Services. UCF will also be hosting several events in June to help the community remember, grieve and grow stronger. Full listing of events is available on the Pulse Remembrance event calendar.

Additional Pulse memorial events will be hosted by the onePULSE Foundation. An memorial archival collection from the first anniversary of the shooting can be found as part of the Resilience: Remembering Pulse in the STARS Citizen Curator collection.

In honor of Pride Month, UCF Library faculty and staff suggested books from the UCF collection that represent a wide array of queer authors and characters. Click on the read more link below to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links. There is also an extensive physical display on the main floor of the John C. Hitt Library near the Research & Information Desk.

All Adults Here by Emma Straub Emma Straub's unique alchemy of wisdom, humor, and insight come together in a deeply satisfying story about adult siblings, aging parents, high school boyfriends, middle school mean girls, the lifelong effects of birth order, and all the other things that follow us into adulthood, whether we like them to or not. Suggested by Rachel Mulvihill, Downtown Library

All the Young Men: a memoir of love, AIDS, and chosen family in the American South by Ruth Coker Burks & Kevin Carr O'Leary A gripping and triumphant tale of human compassion, is the true story of Ruth Coker Burks, a young single mother in Hot Springs, Arkansas, who finds herself driven to the forefront of the AIDS crisis, and becoming a pivotal activist in America’s fight against AIDS. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

And the Band Played On: politics, people and the AIDS epidemic by Randy Shilts An international bestseller, a nominee for the National Book Critics Circle Award, and made into a critically acclaimed movie, Shilts' expose revealed why AIDS was allowed to spread unchecked during the early 80's while the most trusted institutions ignored or denied the threat. One of the few true modern classics, it changed and framed how AIDS was discussed in the following years. Suggested by Becky Hammond, Special Collections & University Archives

Big Gay Adventures in Education: supporting LGBT+ visibility and inclusion in schools edited by Daniel Tomlinson-Gray A collection of true stories by 'out' teachers, and students of 'out' teachers, all about their experiences in schools. The book aims to empower LGBT+ teachers to be the role models they needed when they were in school and help all teachers and school leaders to promote LGBT+ visibility and inclusion. Each story is accompanied by an editor’s note reflecting on the contributor’s experience and the practical implications for schools and teachers in supporting LGBT+ young people and ensuring they feel safe and included in their school communities. Suggested by Terrie Sypolt, Research & Information Services

Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman The sudden and powerful attraction between a teenage boy and a summer guest at his parents' house on the Italian Riviera has a profound and lasting influence that will mark them both for a lifetime. Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

Fun Home: a family tragicomic by Alison Bechdel Meet Alison's father, a historic preservation expert and obsessive restorer of the family's Victorian house, a third-generation funeral home director, a high school English teacher, an icily distant parent, and a closeted homosexual who, as it turns out, is involved with male students and a family babysitter. Through narrative that is alternately heartbreaking and fiercely funny, we are drawn into a daughter's complex yearning for her father. And yet, apart from assigned stints dusting caskets at the family-owned 'fun home, ' as Alison and her brothers call it, the relationship achieves its most intimate expression through the shared code of books. When Alison comes out as homosexual herself in late adolescence, the denouement is swift, graphic, and redemptive. Suggested by Michael Furlong, UCF Connect Libraries

Gender Queer: a memoir by Maia Kobabe; colors by Phoebe Kobabe In 2014, Maia Kobabe, who uses e/em/eir pronouns, thought that a comic of reading statistics would be the last autobiographical comic e would ever write. At the time, it was the only thing e felt comfortable with strangers knowing about em. Maia's intensely cathartic autobiography charts eir journey of self-identity, which includes the mortification and confusion of adolescent crushes, grappling with how to come out to family and society, bonding with friends over erotic gay fanfiction, and facing the trauma and fundamental violation of pap smears. Started as a way to explain to eir family what it means to be nonbinary and asexual, this is more than a personal story: it is a useful and touching guide on gender identity--what it means and how to think about it--for advocates, friends, and humans everywhere. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Heaven's Coast: a memoir by Mark Doty The harmonious partnership of two gay men is shattered when they learn that one has tested positive for the HIV virus. Suggested by Claudia Davidson, Downtown Library

Hurricane Child by Kheryn Callender Born on Water Island in the Virgin Islands during a hurricane, which is considered bad luck, twelve-year-old Caroline falls in love with another girl--and together they set out in a hurricane to find Caroline's missing mother. Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo Seventeen-year-old Lily Hu can't remember exactly when the question took root, but the answer was in full bloom the moment she and Kathleen Miller walked under the flashing neon sign of a lesbian bar called the Telegraph Club. America in 1954 is not a safe place for two girls to fall in love, especially not in Chinatown. Red-Scare paranoia threatens everyone, including Chinese Americans like Lily. With deportation looming over her father--despite his hard-won citizenship--Lily and Kath risk everything to let their love see the light of day. Suggested by Claudia Davidson, Downtown Library

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me by Mariko Tamaki & Rosemary Valero-O’Connell All Freddy Riley wants is for Laura Dean to stop breaking up with her. The day they got together was the best one of Freddy's life, but nothing's made sense since. Laura Dean is popular, funny, and SO CUTE ... but she can be really thoughtless, even mean. Their on-again, off-again relationship has Freddy's head spinning - and Freddy's friends can't understand why she keeps going back. When Freddy consults the services of a local mystic, the mysterious Seek-Her, she isn't thrilled with the advice she receives. But something's got to give: Freddy's heart is breaking in slow motion, and she may be about to lose her very best friend as well as her last shred of self-respect. Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O'Connell bring to life a sweet and spirited tale of young love that asks us to consider what happens when we ditch the toxic relationships we crave to embrace the heathy ones we need. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

LGBT Health: meeting the needs of gender and sexual minorities edited by K. Bryant Smalley, Jacob C. Warren, K. Nikki Barefoot A first-of-its-kind, comprehensive view of mental, medical, and public health conditions within the LGBT community. This book examines the health outcomes and risk factors that gender and sexual minority groups face while simultaneously providing evidence-based clinical recommendations and resources for meeting their health needs. Drawing from leading scholars and practitioners of LGBT health, this holistic, centralized text synthesizes epidemiologic, medical, psychological, sociological, and public health research related to the origins of, current state of, and ways to improve LGBT health. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Lived Experience: reflections on LGBTQ life by Delphine Diallo A beautiful series of full-color portraits of LGBTQ people over the age of fifty, accompanied by interviews. Suggested by Jacqui Johnson, Cataloging

Love is for Losers by Wibke Bruggemann When Phoebe's mother ditches her to work as a doctor for an international human rights organization, she is stuck living with her mom's best friend, Kate, and helping out at Kate's thrift shop. There she meet Emma. Phoebe tries to shield her head and her heart from experiencing love-- after all, love is for losers, right? Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

Man Into Woman: an authentic record of a change of sex edited by Niels Hoyer This riveting account of the transformation of the Danish painter Einar Wegener into Lili Elbe is a remarkable journey from man to woman. Einar Wegener was a leading artist in late 1920's Paris. One day his wife Grete asked him to dress as a woman to model for a portrait. It was a shattering event which began a struggle between his public male persona and emergent female self, Lili. Einar was forced into living a double life; enjoying a secret hedonist life as Lili, with Grete and a few trusted friends, whilst suffering in public as Einar, driven to despair and almost to suicide. Doctors, unable to understand his condition, dismissed him as hysterical. Lili eventually forced Einar to face the truth of his being - he was, in fact, a woman. This bizarre situation took an extraordinary turn when it was discovered that his body contained primitive female sex organs. There followed a series of dangerous experimental operations and a confrontation with the conventions of the age until Lili was eventually liberated from Einar - a freedom that carried the ultimate price. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong This is a letter from a son to a mother who cannot read. Written when the speaker, Little Dog, is in his late twenties, the letter unearths a family's history that began before he was born -- a history whose epicenter is rooted in Vietnam -- and serves as a doorway into parts of his life his mother has never known, all of it leading to an unforgettable revelation. At once a witness to the fraught yet undeniable love between a single mother and her son, it is also a brutally honest exploration of race, class, and masculinity. Suggested by Rachel Mulvihill, Downtown Library

Queer Objects edited by Chris Brickell & Judith Collard Queer lives give rise to a vast array of objects: the things we fill our houses with, the gifts we share with our friends, the commodities we consume at work and at play, the clothes and accessories we wear, various reminders of state power, as well as the analogue and digital technologies we use to communicate with one another. But what makes an object queer? 63 chapters consider this question in relation to lesbian, gay and transgender communities across time, cultures and space. In this unique international collaboration, well-known and newer writers traverse world history to write about items ranging from ancient Egyptian tomb paintings and Roman artefacts to political placards, snapshots, sex toys and the smartphone. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Real Life by Brandon Taylor A novel of rare emotional power that excavates the social intricacies of a late-summer weekend -- and a lifetime of buried pain. Almost everything about Wallace, an introverted African-American transplant from Alabama, is at odds with the lakeside Midwestern university town where he is working toward a biochem degree. For reasons of self-preservation, Wallace has enforced a wary distance even within his own circle of friends -- some dating each other, some dating women, some feigning straightness. But a series of confrontations with colleagues, and an unexpected encounter with a young straight man, conspire to fracture his defenses, while revealing hidden currents of resentment and desire that threaten the equilibrium of their community. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Riley Can’t Stop Crying by Stephanie Boulay While his sister tries everything to help, a young boy isn't sure why he can't stop crying in this transitional picture book. Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

Supporting Success for LGBTQ+ Students: tools for inclusive campus practice by Cindy Ann Kilgo This book aims to serve as a one-stop resource for faculty and staff in higher education settings who are seeking to enhance their campus climate and systems of support for LGBTQ+ student success. Included are theoretical frameworks and conceptual models that can be used in practice. Suggested by Terrie Sypolt, Research & Information Services

The City and the Pillar: a novel by Gore Vidal Jim, a handsome, all-American athlete, has always been shy around girls. But when he and his best friend, Bob, partake in “awful kid stuff,” the experience forms Jim’s ideal of spiritual completion. Defying his parents’ expectations, Jim strikes out on his own, hoping to find Bob and rekindle their amorous friendship. Along the way he struggles with what he feels is his unique bond with Bob and with his persistent attraction to other men. Upon finally encountering Bob years later, the force of his hopes for a life together leads to a devastating climax. The first novel of its kind to appear on the American literary landscape, this remains a forthright and uncompromising portrayal of sexual relationships between men. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

The Invisible Orientation: an introduction to asexuality by Julie Sondra Decker Julie Sondra Decker outlines what asexuality is, counters misconceptions, provides resources, and puts asexual people's experiences in context as they move through a sexualized world. It includes information for asexual people to help understand their orientation and what it means for their relationships, as well as tips and facts for those who want to understand their asexual friends and loved ones. Suggested by Dawn Tripp, Research & Information Services

The New Testament by Jericho Brown The world of Jericho Brown's second book, disease runs through the body, violence runs through the neighborhood, memories run through the mind, trauma runs through generations. Almost eerily quiet in even the bluntest of poems, Brown gives us the ache of a throat that has yet to say the hardest thing-and the truth is coming on fast. Suggested by Claudia Davidson, Downtown Library

The Prophets by Robert Jones With a lyricism reminiscent of Toni Morrison, Robert Jones, Jr., fiercely summons the voices of slaver and enslaved alike, from Isaiah and Samuel to the calculating slave master to the long line of women that surround them, women who have carried the soul of the plantation on their shoulders. As tensions build and the weight of centuries—of ancestors and future generations to come—culminates in a climactic reckoning, masterfully reveals the pain and suffering of inheritance, but is also shot through with hope, beauty, and truth, portraying the enormous, heroic power of love. Suggested by Rachel Mulvihill, Downtown Library

The Ship We Built by Lexie Bean A fifth-grader whose best friends walked away, whose mother is detached, and whose father does unspeakable things, copes with the help of friend Sofie and anonymous letters tied to balloons and released. Includes a list of resources related to abuse, gender, sexuality, and more. Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

Tinderbox: the untold story of the Up Stairs Lounge fire and the rise of gay liberation by Robert W. Fieseler Buried for decades, the Up Stairs Lounge tragedy has only recently emerged as a catalyzing event of the gay liberation movement. In revelatory detail, Robert W. Fieseler chronicles the tragic event that claimed the lives of thirty-one men and one woman on June 24, 1973, at a New Orleans bar, the largest mass murder of gays until 2016. Relying on unprecedented access to survivors and archives, Fieseler creates an indelible portrait of a closeted, blue- collar gay world that flourished before an arsonist ignited an inferno that destroyed an entire community. The aftermath was no less traumatic--families ashamed to claim loved ones, the Catholic Church refusing proper burial rights, the city impervious to the survivors' needs--revealing a world of toxic prejudice that thrived well past Stonewall. Yet the impassioned activism that followed proved essential to the emergence of a fledgling gay movement. Fieseler restores honor to a forgotten generation of civil-rights martyrs. Suggested by Andy Todd, UCF Connect Libraries

Transgender: a reference handbook by Aaron Devor and Ardel Haefele-Thomas This book provides a crucial resource for readers who are investigating trans issues. It takes a diverse and historic approach, focusing on more than one idea or one experience of trans identity or trans history. The book takes contemporary as well as historic aspects into consideration. It looks at ancient indigenous cultures that honored third, fourth, and fifth gender identities as well as more contemporary ideas of what "transgender" means. Notably, it focuses not only on Western medical ideas of gender affirmation but on cultural diversity surrounding the topic. This book will primarily serve as a reference guide and jumping off point for further research for those seeking information about what it means to be transgender. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

Transnational LGBT Activism: working for sexual rights worldwide by Ryan R. Thoreson Thoreson argues that the idea of LGBT human rights is not predetermined but instead is defined by international activists who establish what and who qualifies for protection. He shows how International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission (IGLHRC) formed and evolved, who is engaged in this work, how they conceptualize LGBT human rights, and how they have institutionalized their views at the United Nations and elsewhere. After a full year of in-depth research in New York City and Cape Town, South Africa, Thoreson is able to reconstruct IGLHRC’s early campaigns and highlight decisive shifts in the organization’s work from its founding to the present day. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey Esther is a stowaway. She's hidden herself away in the Librarian's book wagon in an attempt to escape the marriage her father has arranged for her--a marriage to the man who was previously engaged to her best friend. Her best friend who she was in love with. Her best friend who was just executed for possession of resistance propaganda. The future American Southwest is full of bandits, fascists, and queer librarian spies on horseback trying to do the right thing. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Walt Whitman's Songs of Male Intimacy and Love: "Live oak, with moss" and "Calamus" edited by Betsy Erkkila This volume includes Whitman's handwritten manuscript version of the twelve "Live oak, with moss" poems along side with a print transcription of these poems on the opposite page, followed by a facsimile of the original version of the "Calamus" poems published in the 1860-61 edition of Leaves of grass, and a reprint of the final version of the "Calamus" poems in the 1881 edition of Leaves of grass. Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

#ucf library #lgbtqia+ pride #featured bookshelf #one pulse

18 notes · View notes

jaehotbuns · 4 years

Text

high school

rating: pg - 13

word count: 7207

characters: you x mark

genre: university!au, best friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst

song recommendation: high school - umi

summary: out of chance in your third year philosophy course, you reconnect with Mark Lee, your best friend and first love from high school who abruptly left after you two confessed to each other on your prom night. you both can’t help but fall for each other again but you can’t shake the thought out of your mind, why did he leave in the first place?

[tuesday, 4:29pm]

Your excitement for meeting new people at the beginning of your summer semester quickly diminished as you were grouped with the worst combination of people that you could have ever imagined. Usually you didn’t enjoy group work but when your professor announced that the 10% participation portion was to write a short summary of your group’s discussion on the week’s reading and lecture, you were looking forward to hopefully making new friends and an easy A. However, once the ball started rolling on the topic for this week’s topic, your group mates started to “debate.” You didn’t know how in any context where debating included two people not listening to each other and simply saying, “I understand but…” before continuing to ignore any counterpoints of the opposition and merely restating their stance.

While Haechan, the curly haired boy with a whiny voice was arguing with Yeri, the pretty well-dressed girl with the high-pitched voice, you slumped down into the study room’s uncomfortable faux leather swivel chairs and rested the side of your head on your hand which was supported by your elbow that was digging into the chair’s arm. Although the position was uncomfortable, at least it allowed you to direct one ear to the group and the other to the corner of the room to block out their constant bickering. You tried to interject so that you could get them to share their opinions civilly but they brushed off your attempts and continued to go at each other’s throats. So for about ten minutes you summarized their points in a Google document and your own, and then sat for the remaining time considering no one else had contributed in a thoughtful way.

As you looked down at your phone’s time, you noticed that the fourth member of your group was still missing. You were envious of them, at least they didn’t have to sit around and listen to a verbal fight on if human beings had consciousness or not and in turn if animals had consciousness if they weren’t able to speak. Your head turned to the side when you heard the soft click of the door closing after a tall slender boy stepped into the room with a four slot case of Starbucks iced coffees in his hand and a pile of textbooks in the other.

Haechan and Yeri didn’t notice him come in until he set the drinks down on the wooden circle table and started to speak, “sorry I was late.” He huffed as he settled down into another chair and set his belongings down on the floor, “the line for textbooks was crazy but I had to line up before they were sold out hahaha.” He laughed awkwardly as the two looked at him and shook their heads. “I got us all drinks to make up for it!”

It seemed like they knew him before as they muttered a “whatever” before each grabbing a drink to replenish their vocal cords to continue their bickering. You looked at the boy with jet black hair, which was sticking to his forehead with sweat from his run from the university’s bookstore to the library which was a good kilometer. He’s cute, you thought as you looked at him clumsily slip his laptop out of his black backpack which matched his black jean jacket, black t-shirt, and black jogger pants. But something was unsettling about him, you felt like you’ve seen him before.

“Hey,” you sat up in your chair and swirled your chair to face him. You introduced yourself and watched him as he jumped slightly as he furiously typed into his keyboard to bring up his lecture notes as the upright student that he was, he didn’t want to be a burden on the team although every meeting was only worth 1% out of the ten.

He came out of his trance and turned to you and smiled, “sorry I forgot to introduce myself to you!” He gestured to Yeri and Haechan, “I already knew them so I forgot about introductions altogether haha.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck shyly, “my name’s Mark Lee, nice to meet you.”

Your head tilted to the side in familiarity and realized why he felt familiar, “no way!” Mark also tilted his head to the side, confused at your exclamation. “Humberside High? The Mark Lee?”

The Mark Lee who was on the basketball team and volleyball team even though he was a sophomore and didn’t hit puberty until his junior year which resulted in him as the shortest member on both teams although the players were his age or only a year older. The Mark Lee who was confident in his flute skills from touring with his middle school band but was rejected from the high school band. The Mark Lee who was sighing all day when you were trying to study from because he was rejected so you had to buy him ice cream to cheer him up.

“How would you like your eggs?” You asked him, trying to suppress your laughter from your memories of him in high school.

He seemed to have forgotten your inside joke as he could only answer with an “ummm…”

Your lips pursed as you were slightly disappointed that he didn’t get the joke right off the bat, “I see your memories are just as bad as your flute skills.” You folded your arms across your chest and gave him another chance to remember, “I’m sad, looks like someone doesn’t remember me.”

Finally you saw recognition flash over his eyes as he snapped his fingers and opened his mouth in awe before giving you the answer that you were looking for. “Cooked!” Both of you burst out in laughter and doubled over in your chairs, with the same fond memory in your minds.

“Dang, I can’t believe it’s you,” he wiped the corner of his eye from laughing too hard and placed a hand on your shoulder, patting it as if to welcome the ensuing rekindling of your friendship. You were glad that he was still comfortable with you despite not seeing him or speaking to him for at least 3 years. “Do you remember how we’d used to go to Denny’s all the time after school?”

You slapped him on the shoulder lightly, barely grazing him as his oversized denim jacket took the brunt of your slap, “do you not remember how much you’d embarrass me?”

“Dang I got such a bad mark on my chem test…” Mark pouted as he gripped both sides of his marked test with his hands, his fingers making jagged wrinkles on the sheet as his grip tightened in disappointment in himself. His walking was more irregular and heavy than usual as you felt the gravel and pebbles kick up onto the back of your calves as you two walked off the school property and onto the sandy patches next to the road, towards the bus stop.

You peered over his shoulder to see his mark and saw a bright red ‘79’ with a quickly drawn circle on it. Usually with your other friends you would roll your eyes and say “that’s a great mark, if that’s a bad mark what does that make me?” But with Mark you knew the high standards he put on himself despite juggling AP classes and two sports teams. And telling him that would only guilt him. He would think “I shouldn’t be complaining” along with “I’m still not good enough.”

So instead, you decided to take him somewhere that you knew he would be at ease, even if it were only for an hour or two. “Hey, let’s go to Denny’s,” you proposed. Mark’s sad eyes left his paper and was now looking into your eyes.

“You’re only inviting me to make me feel better,” he mumbled with pouted lips. You smiled as you saw his hold on the test sheet weaken.

“Well, it always works,” you replied before snatching the paper out of his hands and folding it neatly so that the two ends lined up. “You can always do better next time! For now let’s enjoy the rest of the day.” You went around to Mark’s back to open up the largest pocket of his backpack to slip in the test and out of the corner of your eyes you saw his lips curl into a smile as he placed his hands into his pockets.

Due to his mark that fell below his standards, Mark’s pace was slower and that meant the two of you took longer time to make it to the bus stop. When you heard the sound of an engine behind your heels, you knew the bus was approaching. You and Mark were still approximately 100 metres away from the bus stop and had to make a run for it unless you wanted to walk 30 minutes to the restaurant.

Without warning, you grabbed Mark’s hand and pulled him in the direction of the bus stop. Although for the first few seconds you were dragging his much taller and lanky body, he got the message and matched your pace to dash for the muted yellow bus that was about to pass. Your eyes were straight ahead and determined to make it on time, but as Mark ran behind you with his arm outstretched in yours, his eyes were smiling in crescent moons and a soft pink tint was present on his cheeks.

Once you made it on the bus, you two plopped down on the 3rd row to the right window where you usually sat. He let you have the window seat as always, because you liked to look at the passing houses and trees and he liked to look at you smiling at the scenery. Little did he know that you could see his reflection in the window glass, grinning and admiring your face. He also didn’t know that you were smiling at his face and not at the view either.

Both of your hearts were still pounding from the short time of contact, but you were glad that you could use the excuse of running and being out of shape to blame your fast heartbeat. Unfortunately for Mark, he was an athlete for no justification for his fast heart rate to cover up the fact that he liked holding your hand, especially when you looked back at him to make sure that he wasn’t slowing down. When he saw the wind blow your hair back to frame your face, your bright smile, and shine from the heat; he was glad that you turned around instantly so you couldn’t see him smiling up to his cheeks.

He snapped out of his trance when you stood up and pat his head to signal him to follow. He stood up and stepped out into the aisle so that you could step off of the bus first. Both of you thanked the bus driver and walked with light feet towards the Denny’s parking lot. They didn’t have a street entrance as usually only drunk people stumbled in from the parking lot or their Ubers, or the high school theatre kids after their performance in their parent’s cars.

You two settled down into the booth seats next to the window, your favourite as there was a neon pink sign right above you which gave a retro feeling, and started to look through the menu. “Hmmm, I want something sweet and savoury tho,” you said as you were deciding whether to get a breakfast grand slam or tres leches pancakes.

“We can get both and share,” Mark said, barely skimming the menu before closing it and setting it down on the slightly sticky diner table. He couldn’t stomach the sickeningly sweet pancakes and would much rather have waffles or a simple smoothie but he never minded sharing the pancakes with you if he could see your eyes light up when you took your first bite. He just hoped that you had a big appetite today so that you could eat the majority of the dessert so he wouldn’t have to eat more than half, knowing how much you hated to waste food.

“Are you sure?” You asked with suspicion as his eyes barely touched the menu. It seemed like he only opened the menu to wait for you to make up your mind and for him to agree to it. “It’s supposed to cheer you up, after all.”

He nodded with certainty and took the menu out of your hands to stack his and yours for the waitress to take easily when it was time to order. “Seeing you stuff your face already cheers me up,” he grinned and placed both of his elbows on the table and folded his hands together. He was smug with his discrete compliment that was disguised by a teasing remark.

“Pfft,” you rolled your eyes and gave him a stank face although you could see through his intentions. You were about to look away to avoid his intense stare until the waitress came at the perfect time so you had an excuse to not look at him. “I’ll have the tres leches pancakes, thank you.”

She turned to Mark with her pen in one hand and the notebook tucked under with her other hand, “and for you?”

“The grand slam please,” he said.

“How would you like your eggs?”

Mark looked confused, which also made you confused because why would that question make him confused? You’ve been to Denny’s dozens of times but this was the first time Mark was asked how he’d like things to be cooked. And with no cooking skills or knowledge, he blurted out his answer which sounded more like a question, “uh cooked?”

You were embarrassed as you saw the waitress hold back a suppressed laugh as she pressed her lips together at the teenage boy who still had no idea how to answer the question properly. “Sunny-side up please!” You answered for him and handed her the menus.

“That’ll be right up,” she smiled and grabbed the menus from you before walking behind the counter to place your orders.

With heat rising through your neck to your temples and cheeks, you slapped Mark lightly on his arm. “‘Cooked?’” You asked with disbelief. “Obviously they’re going to cook them! She wanted to know how you wanted them cooked!”

With no embarrassment whatsoever but rather an insightful expression with his confusion resolved, he nodded and said an “ohhh… That makes more sense.”

You shuddered at the memory while all Mark could do was look at you and laugh. She got cuter, he thought as he smiled while watching your face scrunch up in second-hand embarrassment once more. “I’m still haunted by that memory, I can still remember it as if it were yesterday,” you sighed with a hand clutching your shirt over your heart.

He put both his hands up to his side and shrugged, “and to this day I do not feel embarrassed.” He leaned back into the chair smugly with his arms now folded across his chest, “you live and you learn.”

Compared to him, who was a total dork that was loved although clumsy in both speech and manners, you internalized every single moment that he messed up or said something off. It was as if the shame that he missed was transferred to your body to suffer instead. “I’m glad you think so.” You scrunched your nose at him and shook your head at his nonchalantness. “I just hope you don’t answer ‘cooked’ the next time you take a girl out to a fancy restaurant.”

Mark sighed and moved his arms from their original folded position to hold the back of his neck again, “if only I could get a date.” For some reason, once he said that you were relieved. There was no reason for your relief as you two lost contact for three years but knowing that he was single and had trouble finding someone was reassuring.

Who were you fooling though; you were afraid of falling in love with him again.

[saturday, 6:54pm]

It’s been two weeks since you reconnected with your high school best friend and first love. And like back in high school you two were glued to each other by the hip once again. From sending each other memes at 2am when both of you were tired yet weren’t bored enough to put down your phones, to studying at the library to only get food and talk for the rest of the day when either of your stomachs started rumbling; you felt as though you were transported back 3 years.

Despite reliving the fun memories, you couldn’t help but think about why you and Mark stopped contacting each other 3 years ago. However, that story was for another time and you knew that it was inevitable for you two to talk about it to find closure. So for now you focused on the problem that you were faced with; you were running late.

Mark suggested going to the drive-in movie theatre an hour away from campus to watch The Matrix since it was assigned as a reading for your philosophy of human nature course. You weren’t so sure about being in an even more cramped space than a small study room with Haechan and Yeri no matter how much you liked them after getting to know them. If anything the car would amplify their sibling-like spat or even worse, they talked throughout the movie.

Luckily for you; Haechan had an essay due that night that he had to write due to his poor planning and procrastination and Yeri had a volunteering event that she held for her club as the Vice President. Unbeknownst to you, Mark had actually begged the two not to come so he had an excuse to bring you to a romantic date spot considering the both of you only hung out for school related activities like catching each other between breaks or to study on the weekend. As the innocent boy that couldn’t tell you any white lies, they actually did have those things to do but the previous day. With that justification, he felt like he didn’t lie but rather stretched the truth.

On the side entrance of your dormitory, Mark was in his car with his phone in his hand trying to craft a text message to send to you. He wanted it to seem nonchalant but a little flirty as if he was up to pick you up from a date to hopefully give you butterflies. He had been doing that for 10 minutes already as he arrived 15 minutes early from the time you two agreed on; 7:00pm. When he looked at the time from his car’s radio, he saw that you were running five minutes late and hurriedly wrote a text because he was afraid that you forgot or ditched him. “Hey, I’m out front. You good?”

You cursed when you saw your phone light up with his text as you sprayed your fruity floral perfume on your neck and behind your ears. You spent too long picking your outfit, shoes, accessories, and even which body gel would go better with your perfume that you took nearly two hours to get ready for a seemingly chill movie session for school. When you looked into the mirror before heading out the door, you hoped that your cardigan and jeans, beachy hair, and light accessories didn’t look too much.

Once you slipped on your sneakers and rushed out of the door, you nearly tripped over the pavement until you grabbed onto Mark’s black Mercedes-Benz passenger door handle. You pulled it open and plopped inside the car. You were out of breath from rushing down four flights of stairs and nearly tripping, and from the nerves of being in a car with Mark for at least 4 hours. “Whoops sorry I’m late,” you huffed as you placed your bag onto your lap to let the seat belt lay comfortably over your torso.

When you entered the car suddenly, the air blew the sweet smell of your perfume and mix of mango pineapple body wash over to Mark. His cheeks flushed a light pink as he saw your face with a pinky spring makeup that was different from your everyday neutral. He didn’t know how much prettier you could look in his eyes. A soft cough escaped his mouth which prompted him to place his hand over it when you suddenly settled into your seat and looked over at him.

“Do you think we’ll be on time for the movie?” You asked. He shook his head from the daze that your scent and pretty face caused him to fall into and started the engine.

“We should be fine,” he said confidently before placing his right hand on the back of your headrest and using the other to steer. When he leaned in closer to you, you were taken aback and for a second thought he was going to kiss you until his head looked towards the back of the car to back up and get out of the circular entrance of the dorm. You watched the muscles of his neck clench slightly as he pulled out of the driveway and turned back around to start driving out of the city and to the highway.

You weren’t used to how much Mark had grown. Back then you liked him because he was cute, dependable, and shy. But now he was buying you snacks in between classes to make sure you ate, staying on the phone with you when he knew you were coming home from lectures late so that you weren’t scared and so that he knew you were safe, and even knowing how to effortlessly drive like the male leads do in rom-com movies.

To divert your attention on how darn good Mark looked with his freshly washed hair, white jeans and black hoodie, you ran your fingers through his fluffy hair. “Who knew we’d meet each other again all grown up.” Your slightly cold fingers would graze against the back of his neck occasionally, sending chills and shivers down his spine while his hands gripped the steering wheel.

Three years didn’t seem long but it did wonders to Mark’s appearance. Mark was always attractive even with his shy and quirky habits. Girls from your grade would say, “hey did you notice that Mark is kinda cute?” But they never made a move because the only girl he was comfortable with was you. That’s what you thought, but really he was only interested in you and he didn’t want to talk to other girls in case you got the wrong idea. His plan backfired when you thought him avoiding girls for your sake was him being hopeless around the opposite sex.

“Why? Did I get mature?” Once you were at the stop light, he turned his head to look at you and you turned to face him as well.

“Yeah,” you smiled with your hand still on his neck. “We both grew up.” He wasn’t expecting you to agree with him. He was expecting a typical reply that best friends gave each other like, “you wish,” or “no you’re still ugly.” Mark was getting his hopes up that you didn’t see him as a friend but as a potential boyfriend but like you, you both had to talk about why he left 3 years ago.

He was relieved when the traffic light turned green so that he had an excuse to avoid your loving gaze which he mistook for nostalgia. “I remember I didn’t even have my driver’s license yet,” you recalled as you slipped your hand on his neck and onto your bag, knowing that you had it in your card case along with your student ID.

Mark chuckled, “hey, it doesn’t make a difference.” He waved his finger up and shook it at you with his eyes still on the road. “I drive you everywhere to this day.” He was right. Every late night drive to McDonald’s when you were tired of creating troublesome bibliographies and when he was sick of trying to figure out why his Python code didn’t run was in his car.

“Back then I asked my mom to drive to you,” you recalled.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise, “what? Your parents would’ve killed you if they saw you going out with a boy!”

You nodded and laughed in agreement, “I’d have her drop me off at Mina’s and I’d walk all the way over to your house.”

Mark chuckled in disbelief and shook his head, “her house is 20 minutes away! You’re crazy.”

“Only for you,” you winked and shot him a finger gun when he looked into the rear view mirror. He suddenly took his eyes off and put his head out the window slightly to cool his blushing face off. Satisfied that you managed to make him shy you straighten your back into the seat smugly, “what is this? Are you getting shy? Did Mark really grow up?”

Out of embarrassment he said loudly, “hey! I’ll drop you off on the side of the road if you keep teasing me!”

You put your hands up in surrender with a wide grin across your face, “oops, I won’t make that mistake again.” He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and calmed down after a few meters. “But I know you’d never do that to me.”

How could she be so sure, Mark thought even though he would never forgive himself if he did anything relatively mean to you.

Because you like me, you thought to yourself. You always have.

But then another thought disturbed your mood, so then why did you leave?

You brushed your hair so that it gathered behind your back; every strand of hair signifying every negative moment from the past as you two were nearing the drive-in theatre. The sun was setting and the clouds were transitioning from a warm orange to a soft indigo blue. Tonight, you wanted to enjoy your time with Mark and you could have a serious talk with him next time. If he doesn’t leave you again, that is.

After Mark paid the attendant at the booth in front of the parking lot, he drove to a spot dead center so that both of you had an optimal view of the screen. If you drove to the very front then the screen would take up your field of vision and ruin the ambiance of watching a movie during sunset simultaneously but moving too far back would mean that you couldn’t see what was happening.

With only another car parked at the very back left corner of the lot, you felt as if you and Mark were in a separate world than the outside. Once the opening credits started to roll in, you pulled a bag of maltesers and gummy worms out of your bag as well as a ten dollar bill. Mark snagged the bag of gummy worms but grasped your hand that held the money between your fingers and slipped it back into your purse. “Keep it,” Mark said.

Both you and Mark watched the movie, occasionally popping a sweet treat into your mouth but both of you had watched the movie before. You watched it in high school economics to learn about how Neo might have been Karl Marx and the society was actually capitalism, and Mark watched it on his own time ten times because he loved the movie and wanted to dress up at Neo for Halloween until he realized that he didn’t look as good as Keanu Reeves but rather resembling a shiny roll of black licorice.

The two of you could care less about the movie or even watching it for discussion which was worth a meager 1 percent out of your final mark, but also two didn’t want to talk which would admit that you both wanted it to be a date. Way to be more mature about your feelings, you thought.

When the movie was finally done, you noticed that the sky was now pitch black. The car behind you left, which you could see from the side mirror, and the ticket attendant probably left early knowing that it was the last movie for the night and that no one would come to a drive-in theatre in the middle of nowhere on a Saturday night. Except for two people who wanted to go on a date without admitting it was a date of course.

Once the ending scene was done, the screen turned black which caused Mark’s car to lose all visibility as well. Although there were four street lights that shone in the parking lot, you could barely see anything without any headlight. You heard the jiggling of keys as Mark fished them out of his pant pockets until you heard him curse lightly. “Ugh, I dropped it.”

“The lights,” you said as you raised your hand to the car’s ceiling to turn on the interior lights so that he could find the keys. When you finally felt the smooth plastic button, you pushed it and the pale yellow light brightened up the car immediately. “Oh…” You said out of surprise when you realized Mark’s face was centimeters away from yours as he was also looking for the light switch.

You expected him to blush and turn away like he always did when your faces got close together. Like when you drank out of your straw when he was drinking out of his milkshake or when you leaned in close to him to pull an eyelash off of his cheek. But this time he leaned closer, his gaze falling from your eyes down to your lips.

Your arm fell limp to your side when he placed his index finger from under your chin to lift up your head. Your eyes closed as his soft pink lips came in contact with yours. Two of his warm hands cupped your face as he leaned in closer and kissed you more aggressively. Your hands grasped his forearms and felt the overflowing love that you two had kept from each other from all those years spent apart.

Mark pulled away to look into your eyes, “I-”

“Don’t say it,” you smiled sadly. “If you say it I might lose you again.”

[tuesday, 1:23am]

Ever since your kiss with Mark, you two continued to act like normal surprisingly. He wasn’t avoiding you and even if he was, there was no way in hell that you would let him out of your sights again. You still met with each other, texted each other, and behaved as you normally would. You weren’t pretending that your feelings weren’t mutual or that the kiss didn’t happen, you two just didn’t bring it up.

“Do they usually drink like this?” You asked with Yeri’s left arm slung around your shoulder as you placed her carefully into the Uber that you called for her and Haechan.

The two of them decided to celebrate your “awesome teamwork” after finishing the semester with a perfect 10% on your participation mark. “It was really because you transcribed their arguments,” Mark whispered when the two of them shouted at how high their mark was because of the participation boost.

Grateful for having members to do the work for them, they decided to treat you and Mark out for drinks. “Tab on us,” they announced proudly as they downed tequila shots while you and Mark had only a fruity cocktail each which contained a maximum of two shots.

“Yes,” Mark groaned as he pushed Haechan haphazardly into the seat next to Yeri. They folded against each other as they were about ready to pass out. You prayed to the stars that they didn’t throw up into the poor man’s Uber. “Please take them home safely,” he said after securing seat belts for his classmates and closing the door.

After you two watched the car drive off, you stood in awkward silence. You both didn’t want to go home yet, but someone had to initiate an invitation. “You hungry?” Mark asked.

“Kinda,” you replied with a smile. You knew where this was heading.

“Denny’s.” The two of you laughed after saying the infamous drunk food, I mean breakfast diner, chain.

You walked with him slowly to the diner that was conveniently located within walking distance of the bar that you had just left. Your feet swung off the concrete surface with every step, kicking off small pebbles to hear the satisfying sound of the soles of your shoes against the rough surface.

“Remember when I left,” Mark said suddenly.

You shivered at his words, prompting him to take off his bomber jacket and place it onto your shoulders. You didn’t shudder because of the breeze but because you were dreading talking about what caused your relationship to end abruptly.

“How could I forget?”

“Cheers!” Mark exclaimed, holding up his shot of whisky next to yours.

“Cheers!” You repeated after him and clinked your glass to his. You quickly downed the hot liquid which burned your throat as travelled down and coated the inside of your stomach. “Oof,” you nearly gagged at your first sip of alcohol as it reminded you of fuel but like the slightly sweet smell. “What a rollercoaster,” you said, trying to seem cool.

“How’s this for a prom!” He said laughing at your wrinkled face as if he didn’t spittle a little out of his mouth in surprise at how bitter alcohol really was.

You both wanted the prom experience but hated the theme for this year. “Tropical fairy,” you remember looking at the poster and squinting your eyes in distaste. “What kinda theme is that?”

Mark nodded at your dislike and shook his head at how little effort went into the planning. Your high school was hit with a bunch of budget cuts, university admission changes, and faculty switches which led in students with less time to plan and on top of that less money. So instead of the fancy prom that you envisioned at an elegant French bistro where your school always held it, this year was at a retirement home with catering from a pizza place. Not even a fancy pizza place that had arugula. It had pineapple pizza, which you loved, but still it wasn’t fancy.

So here you were, having our first taste of alcohol with Mark in Montreal where the drinking age was only 18 compared to Vancouver where it was 19. He begged and pleaded with his dad to borrow his car to drive for the weekend trip and you had to convince your mom that you were going with Mina and not a boy you had the biggest crush on.

“Do we have to take more?” You asked, half excited and half terrified of drinking more.

“Of course!” Mark exclaimed. “I didn’t drive this far and pack for a trip if we're only going to take a single shot!”

If only you knew he was going to tap out after two tequila shots and a white Russian. “I think it would be good if I stopped here,” he said, burping slightly as he pushed the empty glasses away from him. His face was glowing slight and you saw him sway slightly.

You laughed, also a little tipsy but no where near the state he was in.

After you two paid the bill, you sat in the nearest local park that you could find and Mark instantly laid down in a snow angel formation once you found a clean patch of grass. You cringed at the thought of leaving soil stains on his dark blue suit as he laid flat on the ground but his face was so at peace you didn’t care enough to scold him.

You squatted on the grass carefully to avoid sitting down and ruining your deep red ‘prom’ dress which was really a FashionNova knit dress that made you look like you were ready to take pictures for instagram. With your white sneakers planted on the soil, you hugged your knees into your chest to balance yourself.

“Hey,” Mark whined when he opened his eyes and saw you not committing to his coming of age, angsty, lying in the grass with his best friend who he’s secretly in love with-moment. His hand grabbed your forearm lightly to take you off balance so you could plop on the ground next to him. Your knees swung towards the patch of grass next to him and your head landed neatly on his chest. Before you could sit up, he placed his hand on your head to keep it there, brushing stray hairs out of your face. “Stay like this,” he slurred.

You laid like that with him with your heart beating out of your chest and thousands of thoughts running through your mind. He was never bold like this. He’s probably a touchy drunk you thought. “Did you know that I’ve liked you since freshman year?” The alcohol was definitely affecting him. What a lightweight.

“Obviously,” you chuckled. Your muscles were relaxing from their previous tenseness from his abrupt actions. “You thought you were so slick but I always knew it.”

Even from his voice, you could hear his surprise and the fact that a pout followed it. “Wait what?!” He said in his high-pitched voice whenever he was shocked. “Why didn’t you say something about it?”

“I didn’t want to be the first one to confess,” you said. Even though it took you all four years of high school and you could only do it when you were drunk, you thought.

Like the clueless teenager with little experience with girls, he was still confused with your ambiguous confession. “Wait… that means…”

“I like you too, you big head dummy!” You sat up with his arms and shook your head at him, embarrassed that he didn’t get your confession right away and also shy at the fact that you were basically sober and confessing to him when he was way past tipsy. You turned your head away from him to feign annoyance.

“Hey,” he said. He sat up and held both sides of your face with his warm and callous hands. His deep brown eyes were looking intensely into yours. You couldn’t bear to look at him for long without blushing, but luckily for you, you closed your eyes when his lips came into contact with yours.

You weren’t sure if it was his first kiss or not, but it was sloppy and rushed. It felt like he was releasing all of the pent-up passion for you ever since he realized that he liked you when you both met in your art class and started a conversation when he sprayed dark blue paint over your light blue denim jacket when he was trying to make the splatter effect with a paint brush. You didn’t mind though, because it was your first kiss and you didn’t know if he was good or bad without any reference.

He pulled away slightly and rested his forehead gently on top of yours, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You chuckled lightly to yourself as you recollected that night. Both of you didn’t even know what love meant yet said that to each other in the heat of the moment. Or maybe Mark said that as a goodbye, a last minute confession before he’d leave you.

“What?” You said as Mina dropped the bomb on you.

“He didn’t tell you?” She asked, completely shocked that you weren’t the first person he told considering you two never spent time apart. “He moved to Korea for university.”

For three months you two were texting back and forth, FaceTime calls whenever he could, and phone calls when you two had free time but were too embarrassed to show your faces because now you both had confessed but weren’t official yet but still not as comfortable as just friends now either. He said he was only going to Korea for the summer to visit his family.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

Out of hurt, you started to send him less frequent messages and began declining his calls or attempts to FaceTime. Out of confusion, he stopped trying to reach you and the short lived relationship dissolved just like that; before it even began to bloom.

While you two were talking about what happened, you had already arrived at Denny’s and sat in a booth with your orders already sent to the back. “So,” you said dryly while stirring the cubes of ice in your glass of water with your straw. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You know how we planned going to university together,” he started to explain with his gaze fixed on the corner of the table. “It was your dream school and we were so excited to become roommates and take electives together because you were in Arts and I was in the Science department…” He corrected himself, “well planning to be anyways.”

Mark paused, looking up to try and figure out how to verbalize the whirlwind of emotions that caused him to keep the truth from you in the past. “I realized that I wanted to study in Korea when I was there for vacation. I dropped everything and I didn’t know how to tell you I decided on my dream school over you.”

Your eyes shot up to match his in disbelief, “Mark! I wouldn’t hold you back. I would understand you, I would support you. Why would you keep that away from me?”

“Because I didn’t know if it was my dream school if you weren’t there,” he sighed. You were surprised and at a loss for words. You knew he had a crush on you but didn’t know how much it affected him where he was deciding on something as important as school over you.

“So why did you come back? And when you did, why didn’t you call me?”

“I came back because I don’t know,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his coke. “It didn’t feel the same as Canada, I felt lonely.” Sure he had friends, but he didn’t feel the same connection to them as he did back to the ones he had in his hometown. “I didn’t call because I didn’t think you’d want to see me. Especially after those dry messages.”

You nodded and realized that both of you messed up. He failed to communicate his desire to go abroad and you didn’t even ask him why he suddenly left. “So us meeting again was really fate huh?”

“You could call it that,” he smiled. His hand moved cautiously over the table to hold yours, nervous that you would pull back and reject him. “I’m sorry.”

Your fingers intertwined with his, “I’m sorry too. We were both too young.”

“So, will you take me back?” His eyes were twinkling with hope.

“Mark,” you said. You watched him gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down with nervousness. “You never lost me in the first place.”

author’s note: ahh thank you for reading my writing and making it through to the end! i love umi’s song high school and basically just wrote this based on the lyrics haha. is it just me or did denny’s get worse? like i used to go for the food but now I just go for the nostalgia lol. anyways, please head over to my inbox for ships, requests, or if you just want to talk i’m always online nowadays lol. but for now; stay safe, stay healthy and happy! i’m here for you no matter what you’re going through. thanks for reading!

135 notes · View notes

lilaacstars · 3 years

Text

with a touch of gravity (and quite madly)

ch. 5: my broken drum.

Marinette holds a glass of wine close to her chest as she crosses the sea of people in the apartment.

It is still a mystery for her how Alya manages to befriend so many people and be comfortable with all of them in her apartment. Marinette has always been social, but never to this level. She swears she just passed by a girl Alya and she once met at a Zara store as they were in the queue for the changing room.

Alya is moving around from group to group, and Marinette doesn’t want to drag her away to stay with her. She searches the room with her sight, looking for a place to enjoy her glass without anyone loudly speaking in her ear, as they chew the amazing food Alya’s mother has prepared for the occasion.

The balcony is crowded with people smoking, but just on the corner of the window and the couch, there’s a perfectly calm space for her to be. Right beside a table of already served glasses and more alcohol and liquor for people to come and choose their favourite poison.

The smoke doesn’t get in and no one is actually sitting on the couch, and so she goes, sitting on the arm of the couch and drinking her wine.

keep reading or read on ao3

Nino should arrive at any minute with the ice Alya sent him to buy, she just has to wait for his familiar face to appear on the door and call for him before anyone else decides to speak with him.

Or for Adrien to appear first.

Marinette has her phone in her hand and looks down at the screen, but no messages have popped. It bothers her, making her frown.

Adrien should’ve landed an hour ago and he hasn’t texted. If something had happened to make him let, then he would have texted too. But he hasn’t.

Her fingers tap across the screen a million times, scribbling and erasing, and going back to write a message that she never ends up sending.

It is ridiculous to get so fixated on this little thing, that in any other day wouldn’t be a problem, but with how terrible the last weeks have been, being away from him, and knowing that he got angry when she fell asleep on the call, her nerves are getting the best of her.

“Oh, but would you look at that, if it isn’t my favourite ex-girlfriend!”

“I’m your only ex-girlfriend,” She laughs, leaving her now empty glass back on the table and jumping to hug him.

“I’m counting ex-flings, and even if not, you’re still my favourite.”

“Then if those are the rules, you’re my favourite ex too.”

They both laugh and start chatting not waiting for a second to catch up on life.

Obviously, one of the first things Luka asks, is where is Adrien.

“He is supposed to come here straight from the airport,” Marinette says and takes two champagne flutes from the table, offering one to Luka, “But I am afraid the plane might have run late.”

“Thanks, Nette,” He smiles, receiving the flute, “Where did he go to now?” “Milano, the offices there had a mishap, and his father sent him to fix it,” Marinette resists the urge to pout, “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“In the kitchen. She needed to take her medicine and asked Alya for water. She is gonna knock you out with love, she wouldn’t stop talking about how excited she was to be back so she could see you.” “Aw,” Marinette smiled tenderly, “I’ve missed Zoé too. I’ve missed you too.”

“And I’ve missed you. I miss going to concerts together. We should find a concert on a date we are both free and just go. Paris or London, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’d love that! I heard All Time Low has an upcoming tour, they tend to book shows in London.”

“That’s great!”

Luka continues naming bands that they could start keeping an eye on to go see in concert when Zoé joins them cheerfully, running towards Marinette and almost making them both drop to the floor.

With her there, the conversation turns to their life in London, their upcoming plans for films and music, and then they ask about her. They want to know how is she doing at uni, if her last project is going well if any brand has called for her to do her internship.

The conversation flows at a rhythm that makes her happy and at ease, completely forgetting about her phone and leaving it on her purse back on the couch as they move to the kitchen to look for food as they speak.

The lights of the kitchen are dim as in the rest of the apartment, with the oven on burning giving a calming orange tint to the environment, the bar doesn’t have the chairs on, displaying the food for the people in the living and dining room to go pick up, so Marinette and her friends group up on the other side, Luka leaning against the fridge, Zoé by his side and Marinette looking at them.

They pick up on waffles on sticks and chat a little bit more.

Marinette is eating her second waffle -a chocolate filled one with strawberries- when arms wrap around her waist and lips brush against the shell of her ear.

“ Princess, ” He purrs and the initial surprises fades away as she melts into his arms.

“Adrien!” Zoé and Luka cheer happily.

“Sunshine boy is finally here!” Alya says walking towards them and winks at Marinette.

Marinette turns her head to him and smiles. Adrien has already read her mind and leans in for a kiss.

“I missed you so much,” She says giving him another kiss and turning around completely this time, to see him face to face.

Adrien smiles and caresses her cheek.

“Me too, so damn much,” He kisses her forehead.

With so many people present, and being in the middle of a conversation, they can’t have the rencounter they wish they could.

“Do you want something to drink or eat, mon coeur? I just finished a waffle, I’m sure you’re going to love them, I can pick one for you as I go pick up a new glass of wine.”

“I’ll just have wine, I ate a sandwich on the plane so I’m fine,” He smiles and kisses her cheek before they walk towards the drinks’ table.

“When did you land? I thought you would be here before midnight.”

“Same hour I told you, there was a problem with my bags that made me stay at the airport longer than I should have.”

“Oh, that sucks. You should have texted or called me,” She gives him the glass and drinks of her own.

“I didn’t want to worry you, and I was coming either way. If I had taken a little longer I would have let you know.”

“Okay,” Marinette nods, not wanting to fight for something so little, even if it still bothers her, “Did you have a good flight? You look a little tired.”

“It was… not the best,” He winces, “I tried to look good…”

“And you do, I love how that shirt looks on you.”

He does look pulled together and nice on that dark turquoise silk shirt and black skinny trousers with sleek boots to match, but she can see through all that.

“You looks handsome as ever, but I know you well.”

“Thank you,” He smiles and squeezes her shoulder as she serves their wine, “You look stunning by the way… if there weren’t so many people around I would show you how much I’m loving how you look on that dress.” He says that in a whisper and a playful smile curls on his lips.

Marinette turns around with a shaky smile and bright red cheeks.

“What a shame.” Adrien tsks and shrugs, “I can show you later if you’re still interested.”

“I might,” She leans forward, pressing herself to him as she passes him his glass.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” He winks and they meet in a short kiss.

Adrien puts his arm around her waist and they walk back to the kitchen together.

“There they are, we thought we were going to be forgotten,” Alya teases.

“Sadly, I have manners,” Adrien flashes a smile.

“You still got here late.” “The airport’s fault, not mine. I’ll make it up with my gift, I promise.”

“Marinette told us you were in Milano,” Zoé says.

“Yes, there was something wrong with the promotion in the stores, and father sent me so I could see the business side of things.” “Did you get to run around the city?” Luka asks what everyone is thinking.

Adrien’s father has always been a subject that makes everyone uncomfortable and angry. When they first started dating, it was really hard for Marinette and Adrien to have time together.

Adrien’s school was close to Nino’s home, so she would ride the bus with him and they would wait outside his private school to have a few minutes with him before his chauffeur picked him up. It was one of the reasons why Nino and Adrien got so close.

Everyone wanted to meet Adrien but Marinette would have to make excuses for him all the time, it didn’t take long for everyone to realize how controlling his father was.

Things got better once Kagami came back on Adrien’s life and let her use him as an alibi anytime he wanted if she could do the same back.

“No, most I did was walk around with a gelato from the hotel to the store,” He shrugs, “But it’s fine, I’ve been there before.”

“I guess,” Luka whispers but Marinette hears. It's obvious that he is angry on Adrien’s behalf.

Marinette gives a sad smile to her friend and leans towards her boyfriend to snuggles on his arm.

Adrien looks down and smiles at her, rubbing his thumb over her hip in a tender manner.

“Well, at least you got to relax for the chaos that is this city,” Luka laughs, “I miss Paris a lot, but I would be lying if I said that I don’t get happy once a day knowing that there are no akuma attacks in London.”

“ Really? ” Adrien asks, surprising Marinette not only by how fast he reacts but that he is interested in continuing the conversation, “I didn’t even think about it. I don’t trouble myself with that ‘chaos’ and I live a calm life here in Paris, so it wasn’t much of a difference in Milano.”

Marinette pinches the bridge of her nose. Of course, that is his answer.

It’s not a bad or a mean answer, but Marinette can hear the actual feeling behind his words.

“That’s actually shocking,” Zoé says and her eyes open wide, “I really can’t believe you don’t think about it.”

“I don’t,” Adrien shrugs and take a sip of his wine.

“He never talks about it,” Alya adds and shots a concerned look towards Marinette.

Subtly, Marinette waves her hands to let her know that everything is fine. They can’t change subjects only because of her.

“Nothing at all?” Luka and Zoé question.

“Nothing at all,” Adrien nods.

“What about Ladybug? What do you think about her?” Zoé asks, taking a step forward as her eyes show her curiosity.

“I don’t think about her at all,” Adrien answers, unfazed, but Marinette can feel the tension building inside him.

“That’s your lost, Adrien,” Alya says, “She is so fucking cool.”

“Yes, she is,” Zoé nods aggressively, “C’mon, there must be something. I don’t think is possible to not have an opinion about something.”

“I gotta agree. For example, I think she is hot,” Luka adds, moving his hands, splashing a little of his beer.

Marinette chuckles. It’s not the first time she’s heard this from Luka, and she isn’t surprised by it either, after all, they dated, she knows he likes her physically. However, it still, makes her blush.

Adrien looks frustrated, he closes his eyes and sighs.

“Yes, I guess she is really fucking hot, but that’s it ,” Adrien answers and takes a sip of wine, looking away from them.

Marinette can feel her cheeks warming up more than before. He’s never said that to her.

“Sadly, the catboy is hot too,” Zoé sighs and leans into Alya who nods along.

“If you like the psychotic type,” Marinette adds, without missing a beat.

Adrien shifts beside her, and the hold he has on her waist tightens.

“So, you do think he is hot.” Luka laughs.

“Yes, objectively, he is hot. I would be blind if I didn’t admit it. He has pretty eyes, and a devilish smile that I’m sure melts more than one, and he is fit, and his shoulders are broad and his arms inviting and look like-” She stops. No, “Yeah, he is as hot as he is insane.”

“ Insane? ” Marinette hears Adrien whisper in disbelief.

The rest of her friends keep talking and arguing, all in lightness and good faith, a few jokes here and there, but she is unable to fully pay attention as she sees Adrien’s expression turns from slight annoyance to full-on rage.

“I mean, there is a good side,” Alya says, Zoé and Luka nod.

Adrien’s hand drops off her waist and this time is her who stiffens.

She takes his hand, and squeezes, hoping he can look at her and calm down, but he is already talking before she can put her plan in motion.

“Are you all fucking experts on moral compasses now, or what?” Adrien asks half laughing but his tone is piercing.

“I don’t think we need to be experts, Adrien,” Luka says and looks at Marinette with utter confusion.

Adrien blinks slowly, in disbelief, and let out an arrogant chuckle.

Marinette panics and does what she knows best: an escape plan.

She turns to Adrien side, to grab him by his arm, and purposefully hits the glass of wine he has in hand. It splashes to the carpet and it falls on Adrien’s shoes as well as hers, and because of that also in her pink stockings.

“Oh no! I’m sorry, baby,” She acts out real concern, and takes a step back, “Ugh, why am I always so clumsy?”

“It’s fine,” Adrien says but he still manages to irradiate the same level of anger as before.

“Here,” Zoé says giving her a few napkins and they both kneel down to clean the carpet. Then Zoé helps her clean her shoes.

“Thank you,” She says and stands up again, “I really am so clumsy, I’m sure you girls are starting to remember a thousand stories.” And just like that, the subject has changed because Alya begins laughing and starts telling one of the many stories.

Marinette smiles in triumph and goes back to Adrien.

“I think I need more wine,” Adrien says, shaking her off before she can even think of touching him.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t go to the table in the living room, fading in with all the other people at the party.

Her smile disappears.

She stays listening to Alya talk, but when Adrien doesn’t come back after ten minutes, she excuses herself and walks through the apartment.

It doesn’t take her long to find him, she knows he would go to a quiet and empty room.

So when she opens Alya’s bedroom door, she sees him on Alya’s balcony, leaning in the frame of the window.

The lights are off, but the lamp post of the street and the glow of the little stars on the sky falls on him, spectral white illuminating his narrowed green eyes, his frowning expression and a condescending smile.

“Was it worth staining your favourite pair of pink stockings for the distraction you tried to pull?” He shots at her.

“Is it worth it to be angry at me after we were away for a week just because of a stupid argument?”

“Oh, it is not a stupid argument, is a stupid subject.”

“Just because people don’t have the same opinion as you, doesn’t mean they’re wrong,” She knows how these arguments go, she might as well cut it at the beginning.

“It’s not that at all. I just feel like you- everyone is judging someone without knowing their full story.”

“And I think you’re projecting your own personal issues, mon coeur .”

“Oh, so now it is me who is in the wrong?” Adrien turns around, one crooked accusatory brow at her, “Didn’t you just-

“Don’t do this,” Marinette crosses her arms in front of her chest, “I hate to fight about this, I’m so tired of it. You can’t keep getting angry just because people don’t see it through the same lens that you do.”

“Do you think I enjoy this? I’m tired too, that’s why I am angry because everyone keeps bringing it up! There are so many other interesting things to ask and talk about. I hate this insane obsession everyone has with them as if we haven’t seen the same crazy fight scene over and over again for four years.”

“Zoé and Luka just came back from London, of course, they will talk about it.”

“Why? Why must they talk about that with us?”

“It is a common subject, Adrien, what else do you want them to talk about?”

“About you , for example.”

Marinette blows a raspberry.

“I’m serious!” He throws his hands up, and walks towards her, standing next to the bed, “We haven’t seen Luka and Zoé in a while, they could have asked you about uni. You’re rocking it.”

“They did ask, Adrien, you weren’t here yet.”

“But-

“No, ‘but’… please I’m tired. These weeks… you’ve never been so annoyed by it before. What’s happening to make you so angry about it? Why do we keep fighting? Whenever I would name it you would brush it off quickly, but we didn’t use to fight.” Could it be that he has started to put the pieces together? Could he know her secret and that’s what has him so worked up?

He gulps and brushes his bangs aggressively.

Adrien takes a step away from her and walks to sit on Alya’s desk chair.

“Adrien…” She pushes, staying where she is but ready to approach him.

“You got hurt.” He answers and clicks his tongue, moving his head side to side.

“ Adrien. ”

“I told you I would never let anything happen to you… but you had already gotten hurt that day, and I wasn’t there to help you. I can’t stop thinking about it, I can’t stop thinking that it could be worse than a few bruises, then the bloody wound… and I wasn’t there for you.”

“Hey, hey, you can’t blame yourself for that,” She places her hands on his shoulders, “How could you know that there was going to be an attack? I myself didn’t know I was going to be on that street at the same time an attack was happening, but it happened, and that’s life. You can’t let anger consume you, especially not when it’s over things you can’t control.”

“I just want it to be over,” He presses her head against her chest, “For it to end and not have to worry ever again if you’re caught in the crossfire or not.”

“I want that too, but you can’t be worrying about me so intensely that you are in a bad mood all the time,” She hugs him, hands tangling in his hair, “And I thought we already established I’m invincible.”

“It’s not funny, Nette,” He sighs, “How could I ever stop worrying about you?”

“You can care about me, the normal, healthy amount, but if you cross the line, you turn gloomy and moody and that… that makes me sad, baby.”

He looks up again, his expression dripping concern and sadness and so much guilt. It isn’t her objective to make him feel bad, but he has to know how his actions affect her.

“I don’t want to make you sad,” He stands up and holds her from her shoulders, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just try to control your temper,” Marinette takes his hands, pushing them off her shoulders and dropping them so she can intertwine their fingers, “And on the other hand, I promise I will not bring up the subject unless the situation calls for it.”

“Like when you want to swoon over the hot leather catboy?”

The statement is atrocious but the fact that he is joking makes her look past it.

“I did not swoon!”

“Broad shoulders? Inviting arms? A devilish smile that could melt-

“ Stooop! ” She pushes his forehead and pouts.

“I’m just repeating what you said, princess,” He giggles, “I already knew that hot blondes are your type, but that was quite the speech. I hope you talk the same way about me when someone asks.”

Marinette laughs, a constant in her relationship with him.

“Oh, please, that doesn’t even come close,” She jumps and hangs from his neck, pulling him down to her, “But I refuse to stroke your ego, so I won’t tell you a word of it.”

“You know it’s worse if use my imagination.”

“I’ll take the risk,” She nuzzles her nose against his, “Should we get back to our friends?”

“Let me hold you a little longer,” He whispers and hugs her tighter, “A week without you is the worst kind of torture there is.”

“You’re the one who left me,” She pinches his cheeks playfully, “Next time take me with you.”

His smile doesn’t meet his eyes, “Yeah… if only-” He doesn’t finish his thought and kisses her neck instead.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence, for him to turn dark because of his own thoughts, and yet she isn’t able to figure out why. She hopes one day she’ll be able to unveil it, but right now is not the time to turn their sweet moment into another fight.

#ml fic #adrienette #ladynoir #read on ao3 #watogaqm

4 notes · View notes