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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

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go for it! ; yuuta okkotsu

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, one-sided love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk.

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki.

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!”

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you.

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing.

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him.

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you.

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun.

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet.

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm.

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow — putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down.

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes.

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.”

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything.

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right?

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.” yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer.

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him.

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

…

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips.

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway.

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways.

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence.

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently.

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful.

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly.

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right?

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound.

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?”

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off.

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure.

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing.

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them.

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably.

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes.

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

882 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 2 months

Note

I saw you were talking about curious gazes stuff.... is citrine a part of that group 🧍‍♀️

wordcount: 2.6k+

——————

Parker kept his eyes on his phone, rereading his new text notification over and over even when the bell above his head jingled as he walked through the door of the record shop.

Annie asked if he was going to be at Vera's party tonight. She asked him if she could go with him.

His cheeks almost ached from the width of the smile on his face. Maybe tonight would be the night—maybe he'd finally get the courage to ask her on a real date instead of all these friendly group outings.

Parker pulled his gaze up only when he heard the familiar voice of the shop attendant, catching the wide smile on the man's face. It was the same man every time Parker came in, his name starting with an H (it was Harry, or Henry, or something in that universe but he could never remember and felt too shy to ask for clarification at this point). He knew so much about all of the records and the artists behind them, it was always interesting when Parker wasn't in too much of a rush and could talk to the guy.

"Good afternoon! How are you?" he asked, the glimmering fabric of his top shimmering from the light spilling in from the large windows.

"I'm good, man. Thanks," Parker greeted, feeling infectiously happy at the moment, "How are you?"

"I'm doing really well, thank you," Harry (maybe?) said, dimples in his cheeks, "Are y'looking for anything specific today?"

Shrugging, Parker shook his head. "Not really, just wanted to look and see if I can find something new."

Harry perked up at the sound of something new being in need, a dark curl falling over his forehead. "We got a bunch of second hand records in the other day. It's mostly older albums, but 'm sure there's something you'd like. Let me know if you want any help or have any questions."

Typically, Parker wouldn't mind asking a few questions, especially about the more vintage artists and pressings around the shop, but his mind was still buried deep in his phone. "I will, man. Thanks."

With that, Parker drifted between the shelves that marked out the aisles in the small shop. Huddled between a pair of shelves holding different records and elaborate displays with special edition pressings, he pulled his phone out once again. Annie's thread was still open, her two texts shining in a beautiful, shining, hopeful blue.

ur going to v's tngiht right ?

if u want we could go together :)

He'd never seen a string of letters look so perfect. It was like he was reading poetry.

His fingers held a tremor as he texted her back. He attempted to play it cool, but of course he wanted to go with her. He would have given anything to enter that party under the label of being together with Annie.

Sure! I have to do some homework tonight, but I'll be heading over there at around eight. Does that work for you?

Shooting off the message, Parker felt conflicted about staring and waiting for the messages to be read with another set of preemptive bubbles filling where her next message would be, or locking his phone and not being so desperate for a single text.

When the receipts didn't immediately switch to show that it had been read with another time stamp, Parker forced himself to lock the screen and shove his phone back into his pocket. Around him, colorful records asked to steal his attention, to put him back on track and remind him why he came to the shop in the first place.

It was his sister's birthday next week and he wanted to pick out a couple of records for her since their mom was gifting her a player as well. (And, there was an album or two Parker had been looking at that he really hoped the shop carried). Forcing his mind off of his phone, he took his time perusing through the shelfs for anything special he knew she liked before he would start looking through the crates for something vintage she could brag to her friends about.

Across the space, the bell dinged again, another customer stopping by.

Instead of the usual greeting Harry offered to all guests, Parker heard a giddy sigh of, "Sunshine!" ring from the head of the shop.

Lifting his gaze from where he was examining a record cover laden with roses and glimmering gold font, he saw a woman with a beaming smile making her way towards the register area. A plastic takeaway bag hung from her elbow, her hair pulled back with her outfit consisting of a logo'd shirt and black pants. The logo was familiar, from a restaurant deeper in the plaza that had margaritas that were a little too strong but cheap enough it didn't matter.

"Hi, Harry," she greeted, opening her arms as Harry met her halfway and reciprocated her hug.

The plastic bag crinkled over his shoulder but neither of them paid the food any mind as they wrapped around each other. Quiet whispers were shared between them, Harry's curls creating a small curtain so Parker couldn't even see what kind of reaction these secrets pulled from the newcomer.

Instead, Parker only got to hear the sound of her laugh as she drew away from the hug. He felt a bit bad as he kept watching, but even when they shared a small kiss, he couldn't pull his eyes away.

Harry had mentioned more than once these small details about his wife, interjecting that she loved a certain album, or that she recommended something new to him that he was now letting others in on. Truthfully, with who Harry was—so eccentric, extroverted in an introverted way, and seemingly from a different time—Parker had imagined his wife to be completely different than to who was standing before him.

This woman seemed... normal.

Not that it was a bad thing, or that Harry wasn't, but she wasn't draped in lace and gauze with jewels and glitter following her every step. She looked like she belonged in this century.

He turned his attention back to the record in his hand a split second before she would have caught his stare. Though there was a track list right before him, he didn't read a single word, feeling a bit flustered knowing he had just witnessed what was most likely a private moment between the two of them.

Parker couldn't help the way his mind went back to Annie.

Would she visit him during her lunch? Would they embrace like that, without a care? What kind of secrets would she share with him?

He couldn't help the minute check he made to his phone screen.

No new notifications.

Folding his phone back into his pocket, Parker directed his focus back onto his shopping. Meandering back towards the crates, he started flicking through the alphabetized stacks.

With only a quiet album playing on the shop's record player—something crackly and old he didn't recognize but didn't mind—, he could hear the murmurings of the couple now huddled behind the register counter together. Though he didn't mean to eavesdrop, he didn't particularly try hard not to either.

Straining an ear, he heard their hushed conversation over the music and quiet rustling of the plastic bag.

"I can come back later, or save this for dinner," the woman said, "I don't want you to get in trouble, honey."

"'S fine, dove, really," Harry insisted, his smile audible, "I know him—he's really nice. He won't mind, I promise. If he needs my help, I'll help."

"But, H—" she tried again, only to be abruptly cut off.

Maybe it was the romance on his mind, but Parker wondered if the soft sound he heard was another quiet kiss they shared. Harry's tactic to get his wife to let go of the argument.

"It'll be fine, I promise. I've missed you all day, I don't want you to leave already."

A plume of laughter could be heard alongside the laying out of styrofoam containers. The scent of warm food drifted through the shop. Parker's stomach piqued at the smell, reminding him the last time he ate was during breakfast.

Maybe Annie would want to stop and get some dinner before the party. Or go for a late night snack after.

Harry's wife's laugh pulls him out of the possibilities he was beginning to churn before he'd even received a text back.

"We spent all morning together before you came here," she countered, her tone a gentle tease.

"So?" Harry argued, quietly serious under his own joking tone, "'S not enough, and I've told you that before."

A beat passed, the rustling of the bag filling the moment. "Well, I only have forty-five minutes left of my lunch, so you better make the most of it."

Another set of hushed conversation sounded, words too quiet for him to hear. Parker figured with the scolding Harry! that left the wife's lips, he didn't really want to hear what had made them go quiet anyway.

A vibration from his back pocket had Parker practically scrambling to reach for his phone and get the screen to light up.

Annie had texted him back.

sounds good (:

if its isnt to late by the time we r leavig we should get food or something

Parker's heart just about soared right out of his chest towards the record player, the beats wishing to play their own love song in Annie's name.

They were going to get food or something tonight, just like he hoped.

Was this love?

I was thinking the same thing! I'll see if I can finish up any sooner than eight, but I'll let you know when I'm on my way:)

There was so much Parker needed to do.

Now the priority wasn't the set of essays he was planning on editing before he got ready for Vera's. These plants were now shifted, urging him to skip cleaning his apartment and instead rushing home to do his work then agonize over getting ready for the remainder of the evening. The cowlick on the crown of his head that had his hair sticking in weird places after every shower was going to be his prime enemy today.

Focusing on the records before him, Parker skimmed through before grabbing a Fleetwood Mac album his sister would either love or let become a statement piece about how much of an old soul she was. Turning back to the shelves he reached for a foiled album, the band's name one he recognized but only vaguely through his sister's Spotify. He wasn't familiar with the artwork, but hopefully this was a good one.

These two would have to do for now. If he needed to find a third, he'd do it later. Annie was waiting for him (in six hours, but the urgency still mattered).

Taking his tiny stack to the register, he saw the bubbly couple huddled together sharing a container of French fries with their own respective sandwiches. When the woman realized Parker was approaching, she startled in her spot, immediately moving to get their meal out of the way of the register.

"Sorry, sorry," she said, covering her mouth as she swallowed down the bite she'd taken just as he emerged from the shelves. Harry watched with a fond quirk to his lips though he didn't make any move to assist her move.

"'S alright, love," he attempted to soothe her. While Harry was always purely friendly and full of a kind and giving spirit, Parker had never heard his voice take on the notes it did now. This man was in love with his wife—everything she did was special to him.

"I don't mind," Parker jumped in, settling his records on the clear area of the desk, "I get it."

"See, (Y/N)?" Harry pointed out, though he did begin straightening up and tapping at the register keys, "I told you he was cool."

The woman—(Y/N), the name said with a reverence—didn't pay Harry's argument any mind, continuing to move their boxes out of the way for Parker. Harry shook his head, his green eyes lighting up with every glance her way.

"You find everything alright?" Harry asked, sliding the records towards the inlaid scanner on the desk. Before Parker had a chance to answer, he saw Harry's face light up when he spotted the Fleetwood Mac record. "I didn't know you listened to them! Is this your favorite album?"

Holding up the beige cover, complete with a familiar woman in pointe shoes and an unfamiliar man at her side, Harry looked to him with expectant eyes.

"Um, this is actually a gift for my sister," Parker explained, feeling a bit bashful now that he let down Harry. "It's her birthday next week, and my mom is getting her a record player. I don't really listen to older music."

Casting his gaze down at the album cover, Harry pursed his lips. "I guess it did come out in '77—feels like it was only last year, I forget sometimes."

Parker canted his head. That was one of those things about Harry that had him assuming he was meant to exist long before this time. It wasn't the first time he made a comment like that.

"If she likes that album," (Y/N) piped up from where she had stepped back to lean against the back counter, "you should get her some Stevie Nicks albums. She'd love them."

Harry perked up with a smile on his lips, though he stayed quiet as he typed a few numbers into the register before the total popped up on Parker's end.

"She's the singer from Fleetwood Mac, right?" Parker asked, sliding his card into the reader, "I didn't know she had her own music."

"She's the best," Harry interjected, his words a clear praise of his idol, "Even if your sister doesn't get into it, y'should still try it out. Y'won't regret it."

Maybe Annie would like some of this kind of music. They could have a song if they found one they both liked.

The idea had Parker giddy once more, itching to head home and prepare for the night.

"I'll have to come back then and see what you recommend," Parker said, grabbing his carefully bagged records with the receipt tucked inside, "Thanks, Harry. It was nice to kind of meet you, by the way"—his eyes moving to Harry's wife—"He talks about you all the time."

The smile that stretched along her features was like the sunshine her husband named her after—bright and eclipsing.

Though they were small, the things Parker picked up between the two had his heart softening in places he didn't know could soften. A love like that must be consuming in the sweetest way.

Annie was all that was swirling through his mind.

"He does?" (Y/N) asked, her eyes drifting towards her husband. He only shrugged in response, a bashful set to his features with blushing cheeks.

"See you next time," Harry said, biting back his dimpled smile as he bid Parker goodbye.

Tossing a wave over his shoulder, Parker drifted towards the door, his precious phone sliding into his hand on instinct. His heart jumped when he saw a text from Annie.

perf ! excited to see u (:

His heart rocketed into his throat at the small string of words. Just before he left the shop, Parker didn't think before he was looking over his shoulder and catching Harry pressing a loving kiss to his wife's lips.

He wanted a love like that. Hopefully, that will start tonight.

——————

:))))) thank u sm for all the excitement about this pov I hope everyone likes it! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please send in any fun ideas!

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augiewrites · 6 months

Text

“secret admirer” - dead poets society (part 6)

summary: y/n is introduced to the dead poets society and faces a shocking realization

pairing: anonymous!dead poet x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.2k

previous | next

Morning was quickly melting into the afternoon, and Y/N had yet to get out of bed

Currently, they were staring at the ceiling, thinking about a certain brown haired annoyance. Thinking about how nice his voice sounded when he recited Shakespeare—about how nice his voice would sound reciting the poetry being delivered to them. He wasn’t that bad when Y/N really thought about it.

They needed to stop thinking.

Thankfully, a distraction swiftly entered the room, launching a muffin at Y/N’s head.

“If you’re not going to get out of bed, you at least need to eat something,” Quinn started in on Y/N, “are you dying? Be honest.”

“Physically? No.” Y/N grimaced, “Bran? Really?”

“If you wanted a chance at anything good, you should have gotten out of bed.”

A stare down.

“You’ve been shutting me out, Y/N. Remember when we used to be friends?”

Y/N picked at the muffin, mumbling, “It’s not on purpose.”

Quinn’s frustration turned to worry as they sat on the edge of Y/N’s bed.

“What’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know. My parents are on my ass about my grades, I have a fat crush on a stranger, and all my time is being taken up by schoolwork that I couldn’t care less about.”

Quinn smirked at Y/N, “Seems like you do know, bud.”

“I just wish I knew what the end goal was,” Y/N’s voice cracked, “if he even has one.”

“He has to come forward at some point, Y/N. Either that, or he slips up and you find out anyway. If he doesn’t, then he’s a coward and doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

_________________________________________

Y/N ventured out for dinner that evening after spending the afternoon ignoring their responsibilities with Quinn.

They were enjoying themselves until six familiar boys entered the dining hall. Usually Y/N would be happy to see them, but today their presence did nothing but remind them of all the bad emotions swirling around their head.

The group of boys gave Y/N friendly smiles and a few waves from across the room as Meeks broke off and headed their way.

He sat down in the empty seat beside Quinn, blushing slightly.

Meeks gave Quinn a small smile and a nod before turning to Y/N, “Will you be there tonight?”

Y/N pushed some stray carrots around their plate, “I don’t know, Steven…”

“Y/N, you have to come,” a nervous glance at Quinn, “you’ll understand. Might even help feed your soul a bit.”

“…Okay.”

“Okay?”

Y/N couldn’t help but to smile, “Yes, nerd—I’ll be there.”

“You won’t regret this. Trust.”

The boy shot a smile at Y/N, and then to Quinn before leaving the table—returning to his friends that had been periodically sending confused looks across the room.

Quinn was gaping at Y/N.

“What was that? Where are you going? Is he going to kill you? Should I be worried?”

Y/N let out an incredulous laugh, “I think I’ll be fine…not really sure where we’re going, though.”

“To his killing lair, probably.”

“I could take him.”

_________________________________________

Y/N slipped outside that night and was thankful that the temperature had yet to drop below freezing.

They were going to ditch if Meeks didn’t show up in the next five minutes. A guard dog was barking in the distance, and Y/N didn’t need a demerit on top of everything else.

Meeks’ hushed voice calling their name snapped them out of their thoughts. Pitts was trailing along behind him.

“Come on,” Meeks took Y/N by the wrist, “follow us.”

The further the trio moved away from campus and into the woods, the more worried Y/N was that Quinn was right.

“You guys aren’t taking me out here to kill me right?”

The boys laughed with a chorus of “no” and “trust us.”

“You sure,” Y/N grinned, “the cloaks aren’t really helping your case.”

Meeks exclaimed, “It’s cold!” as Pitts simultaneously laughed out, “it’s not a ritual killing if we don’t wear matching outfits.”

“Not funny,” Meeks pointed an accusatory finger at Pitts before looking at Y/N, “we’re here—watch your step.”

Y/N entered the small cave and was met with varying looks of surprise from four other boys.

“What the hell are they doing here?” Charlie blurted out.

Neil stepped forward, pushing on Charlie’s shoulder so he would take a seat, “Don’t mind him, Y/N. You’re more than welcome to be here.”

Y/N gave the boy a smile, looking around the cave in awe, “What is this?”

“This,” Knox outstretched his arms, gesturing around the small space, “is the Dead Poets Society.”

“Holy shit,” Y/N let out a small laugh.

“Here, take a seat,” Meeks guided them to a flat outcropping of rock before looking around at the others with a smile, “let’s get started.”

_________________________________________

After the boys threw a variety of snacks onto an outstretched coat, they recited an excerpt from a worn looking book.

Thus, the meeting commenced.

The boys went around the circle, reading various writings from the book and some of their own creation. Y/N’s heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time.

Todd held out the book in offering, his eyes twinkling in a way they had never seen, “Y/N?”

Y/N took the book with no hesitation, flipping through the pages until it landed on one of their favorites from Whitman.

Whoever you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams, I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your feet and hands Even now your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners, troubles, follies, costume, crimes, dissipate away from you, Your true soul and body appear before me, They stand forth out of affairs, out of commerce, shops, work, farms, clothes, the house, buying, selling, eating, drinking, suffering, dying.

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your ear, I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you. O I have been dilatory and dumb, I should have made my way straight to you long ago, I should have blabb'd nothing but you, I should have chanted nothing but you. […]

The boys cheered—Y/N’s heart soared.

I could easily fall in love with any of these boys, they thought, my poet could be anyone here, and I would be the happiest person on the planet.

Charlie—who had been uncharacteristically quiet thus far—gently took the book from Y/N, standing up as he cleared his throat.

“This poem,” Charlie thumbed through the book before looking around the cave, his eyes lingering on Y/N’s for a beat, “reminds me of someone whom I admire.”

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!

Y/N suddenly had tunnel vision, and they barely registered Neil springing into a Shakespearian monologue.

Dalton? That poem—could he really?…

~~~

final part

a/n: the next part will be the last <;/3

taglist: @vvnbxz @edb954

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mountymase · 21 days

Text

i love you, it’s ruining my life

file one - mason mount

a/n: well, hi! i’d like to say that this isn’t my fave work but i’ve been mostly writing poetry lately and i needed to see if i still had my fanfic mojo. hope you like it nonetheless! 🤍

1.820 words

warnings: real angst, brief mention of anxiety, breakup, bit of fluff, harsh words.

It felt more like a ritual, one that you loved dearly - each morning, Lila, your pup woke you up with cheerful and endless face licks, her tail wiggling in the air, her frantic need to get under the covers with you and cuddle like you always did every morning. Your heart warmed with joy as you silently giggled, an arm tugging the two-year-old basset hound closer making her immediately calm down as a long sigh escaped from her.

There was something else about mornings like these: they brought a feeling of normality to the wild, nonetheless extraordinary routine you jumped into since your first book had been published — not your first piece of promising writing, but the one that turned into a giant success that started taking global proportions within six months, forcing you to travel around the globe on a tour to meet countless and extraordinary people.

And also to sign autographs for most of them.

They were boys and girls, mums, teenagers, middle-aged women, single women, and a bunch in long-lasting relationships. It didn’t matter, your writing reached every single one of them and, somehow, they now all had something in common: how much they loved your book.

All of it was still overwhelming to you, though. Coming from a small town where nothing fascinating used to happen, you’d spend your days writing when you weren’t with your regular group of friends from school. Getting used to the big city once you moved to graduate in journalism was difficult — you missed those peaceful days, watching the sunrise when you went for a morning jog, birds singing, and how comforting silence could be every evening. But you were also grateful for all the opportunities given and how unexpectedly great things turned out to be for you.

Moving to London had never been in your foreseeable future, although visiting England was one of your greatest dreams from a very young age when you used to spend hours listening to The Beatles and Elton John with your dad.

When you got a call from one of Netflix UK executives, telling you they’d like to turn your book into a miniseries, you choked on a large croissant bite. It took you a couple of minutes to put yourself together as the executive patiently waited, a low giggle coming from the other side of the line once you took a deep breath and asked if they were calling the right number.

So, from the afternoons of Penny Lane and Benny and The Jets, you ended up officially living in an extravagant flat located in Mayfair, fully paid for by Netflix UK, and dropped the news of your book being turned into a miniseries, officially, on a morning TV show.

If you didn’t have such an impatient dog, who was now staring at you with her best “feed me, human” glare, you would’ve stayed in bed for the rest of the day. The thought of being live in one of the biggest morning TV shows in England, sharing the screen with another famous guest made you feel immensely intimidated, and vulnerable.

But, from the very beginning, he made you feel safe.

Mason.

He was the other guest that day, invited to share more on his success playing for Chelsea FC and the charity of which he was a patron of. During the break, he noticed how you rubbed your sweaty hands against your jeans and how all your blood seemed to be concentrated in your cheeks - half of it wasn’t just the nervousness, though, it was also because of how intense his gaze was.

Mason’s voice soothed your nerves like magic once he caught your attention during those two minutes, and you were wonderfully calm telling Holly Willoughby about the serie’s pre-production, cast choices, etc.

And as expected, once it was all over, Mason asked if you’d like to go out with him for coffee.

The two of you instantly clicked, like magnets completely drawn into each other, so it was easy and fun being around him. His inner circle wasn’t entirely the nicest, but as you grew closer and became extremely close friends, Mason introduced you to his family and you finally had a mother figure to welcome you with warm embraces since yours was miles away.

You were supposed to be just friends, but the beauty of how well you got along despite each other’s imperfections felt like a glitch in a system that led to something magical. In the end, together, you and Mason discovered that true love can arise from the most unexpected and delightful surprises.

That was 2.190 days ago or, more specifically, six years.

Now, you found yourself facing the diamond ring on your finger, glistening under the moonlight.

Mason broke up with you, for good this time, because you were ruining his life. His words.

You, of all people.

You, who loved him the most.

Him, who was simply your whole world, just as much as you were his.

Still watching the engagement ring on your finger, you tried to remember when your relationship started to crumble. Perhaps, it was right after he returned home from the World Cup, even if it had been just a few months that he proposed. Things started to get difficult for him at Chelsea and he was distant, such a stupid cliche. Classic miscommunication, so finding comfort at your own work was the only thing you could do and you isolated yourself at the cottage you bought in Scotland so you could write in peace - eventually, you fell down the same old cycle of isolating, writing compulsively, and just a few months later having to leave everything behind to promote the book.

A book full of personal poems, this time.

Tears rolled down your cheeks and you sniffed when you remembered how Mason spat the words at you.

“How fucking dare you to expose us like this?” He breathed heavily, anger in his eyes like you’ve never seen before. “You never make things easier for me. It’s always all about you,”

You frowned as his words still echoed in the back of your mind - everything you’ve done was always about him, from the moment you two met on that TV show. What was supposed to be a polite talk in the beginning, ended in a heated argument fueled by miscommunication and insecurities and more harsh words from him while you just listened. According to Mason, while he was always including you in his career choices, your commitment to your own career outweighed your commitment to your relationship.

“My career will never betray me,” it was automatic, you didn’t think before saying those words, and you only noticed the damage when Mason’s eyes glistened with tears.

“I would never do that to you, but if that’s what you believe…” Mason sniffed. You watched him shake his head and focus his gaze on the wall - anything not to look at you. “I love you, Y/n. But it’s ruining my life.”

A shy lick on your hand brought you back from painful memories and you were able to smile a bit as Lila watched you with those sleepy eyes.

“It’s just the two of us now,” you mumbled, touching her nose with the tip of your index finger.

Scotland has been your permanent home for the past two weeks since the breakup. You tried to reach him, tried to call him, and even texted his family, but no one replied. Even his friends were gone and it felt like Mason and the life you shared with him were nothing but a dream. The only thing that you still had was the engagement ring, that never left your finger.

Two weeks were also making you realise that, perhaps, Mason was right. You should’ve talked to him, should’ve put him first, and asked how he’d feel instead of making how you felt about everything so public. Even if there were no names, everyone knew that most of those poems were about Mason - the good ones, but mostly, the bad ones where you romanticised all of your struggles.

There was nothing but regret and sorrow for you.

Lila’s lazy and hoarse barking woke you up. At her own speed, she went back and forth from your bedroom to the front door, scratching her nails on it as she was desperate to see who was knocking on your door at three in the damn morning. If you weren’t so sleepy, you’d care more about the marks it was leaving on the wood.

Letting out a loud yawn, you slowly opened the door to find Mason on the other side, puffy eyes and messy hair, with both hands in his pockets.

“You shouldn’t open the door without knowing who it is. Not at this time of the night,” you frowned at his whispered words, not knowing exactly what to say. “Are you going to let me in? It’s cold,”

You quickly nodded, taking a step back so he could walk in and be greeted by Lila. His giggle as the basset hound lazily wiggled her tail made you smile softly - you missed the sound of his giggle. You missed everything about Mason.

“She misses you,” and so do I, you wanted to say. Mason just nodded. “Are you here to take the ring back?”

His sigh was the only sound that filled the room for a few seconds before he let go of Lila to finally look at you. He was a mess, just as much as you.

“No”, Mason replied. A knot formed on your stomach and you suddenly felt the urge to vomit - anxiety always did that to you. “I’m here to take you back.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, but you also felt a slight anger burn your chest and bring tears to your eyes. Crossing your arms against your chest, you watched Mason carefully as he seemed to wait for an answer - he looked absolutely defeated, but he let out a sigh of relief once his eyes caught the diamond ring still on your finger.

“I thought I was responsible for ruining your life.”

Mason nodded. “But you also put it back together, Y/n.”

His words completely disarmed you - arms fell to the sides of your body, but quickly wrapped around his waist. In Mason’s arms, you silently cried. “I should’ve talked to you, Mase. I’m so sorry,” Mason’s hands traveled up and down your back, comforting you, as his lips found your forehead, then your cheeks and your nose, in soft and gentle kisses.

“I overreacted,” you shook your head, but Mason cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “I did, but I hope you can forgive me.”

“If you can forgive me,”

“We’re both forgiven, then.”

A brief interruption, a slight malfunction

(...)

I thought we had no chance

And that's romance, let's dance.

#mason mount fanfic #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader

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kannra21 · 5 months

Text

Bc I "love" (lol) Gege so much, I gathered some info on him. Pls DM me to add more if you remember anything

Pen name: Akutami Gege (芥見下々)

Birthday: 26th February 1992 (31yo)

Zodiac: Pisces

Born: Iwate Prefecture, Japan

he went to all boy's private school

Akutami has an older brother who's married. Yuji is strongly inspired by his brother who is Akutami's opposite. He is someone who succeeds in everything he undertakes: sports, studies etc.

he was never really interested in drawing or manga until 4th grade when his older brother bought Weekly Shōnen Jump. The Jump that he read had Bleach on it and that's how Akutami's love for Bleach developed. When he was in the 5th grade and moved from Iwate Prefecture to Sendai in Miyagi Prefecture, he was surprised to see that the kids at his new school drew manga

he started drawing manga by imitating his friends' work

so his Bleach obsession started in elementary school and his Evangelion and Hunter x Hunter obsession started in middle school

he wrote a poetry analogy called "Giant From The Clouds" in middle school, inspired by the Bleach mangaka

His previous works are Kamishiro Sōsa, No.9, Nikai Bongai Barabarjura and jjk 0

Yuji was named after his childhood classmate

Geto was named after the "Geto Korean Ski Resort", located near Akutami's hometown of Tohoku

he's slightly colorblind

he's a fan of occult, mystical practices and horror

he wears glasses

he cooks somewhat

he loves hot springs and scalp massages, he goes to dermatologist to maintain healthy skin

he exercises and he's trying to get in shape despite the busy schedule, workout is not as painful as it is boring

he's very grateful for his chiropractor bc of his stiff neck, he said that if he ever time-travels and meets his younger self he's gonna tell him "get in shape, seriously", he craves afternoon naps but tries to resist by eating sweets like Pikmin gummies (why's he so contradictory haha)

when Nakamura first debuted with the jjk cast and got to meet Gege, he was surprised by how young he looked. He also said that Gege has a calming voice

hobbies: he reads a bunch of novels and watches a bunch of movies whenever he can, he's busy with work most of the time

his favorite food is crispy thai pandan chicken

his favorite onigiri flavor is mentaiko, he loves Umaibo snacks, Schau Essen, potatoes, hayashi rice, ramen and seedless grapes

He's usually not a fan of name brands but he likes Balenciaga. He also wants to support Royal Host restaurant

he likes comedy podcasts like Arabikidan group

the first manga he submitted to Jump was a gag manga

when he was a student he found studying boring but he likes doing research on things that actually interest him (like engineering facts he needed for the manga)

when he was an art student, he didn't really like making drawings where the model stayed for hours in a specific pose. He preferred to sketch in 3-4 minutes

he relies too much on sketches, rough drafts and his editors (he says he's like a dog for the editors)

he has a habit of forgetting how to draw his characters sometimes

he's self-deprecating and he's sorry that he sometimes makes people feel awkward by being overly critical of himself *hugs him*

he finds it difficult to write Yuji bc Yuji and Akutami are fairly different, Akutami doesn't consider himself particularly athletic but he can relate to Yuji for being an "airhead" sometimes and does things when people tell him not to

he thinks he's clumsy and fucks up honorifics sometimes, he talks casually with his editor Yamanaka whom he has a beef with till this day, he reminds him to "respect his elders" (he's so Gojo coded lol)

He's so funny asdfghjhgfd

he's in good relationship with his parents, he respects them and they're very supportive of him

he cares about his mom's opinion on his manga

Toji's and Yuta's personalities are somewhat based on Akutami's dad, dad also reads the manga

according to Gege, jjk should've been a lot darker but editor didn't allow it

he's an otaku, he's a fan of Marvel, has Hunter x Hunter posters on the wall and enjoys Pokémon wii games, he collected Yu-Gi-Oh cards when he was younger, he's from the generation when Gintama was popular

He never felt hatred for Thanos from Avengers: Endgame (explains why he likes Sukuna so much lol)

his favorite Haikyuu character is Tendo and his favorite BNHA characters are Overhaul and Stain

he saw Brad Pitt in person wow

Idea for the pen name: Gege worked a part time job at the cleaners and learned what it's like to be humble in the world. "Gege" translates to a "person of lower status" or a "commoner"

he claims to be socially awkward with people he's not familiar with, he's not used to public speech but when he gets drunk he does a 180 and is blabbering a lot

people call him a genius with a great sense of humor, his editor Katayama says that he's a cheery and a cool person, much like Gojo

he bought a black mountain parka (like Gojo's) that's supposed to last for six years but he put it in storage after one week

he thought about dying his hair white (Gege stop with the Gojo cosplay)

he's a procrastinator, he's mentally preparing for hours to draw a manga chapter that would otherwise take him 30min. The truth is, he's getting tired of jjk and can't wait to finish it

he chose the cyclop cat avatar because drawing one eye is easier and no one hates cats

he said that he used to have a "type of girl" in high school but the more he grew up he realized that every woman is a good woman, he likes well-groomed women (although I think he likes girls with thick tights? he's a Hwasa fan)

he thinks that world can't be divided into black and white and that it's always a blur. Villains and heroes are treated the same because each of them have their own beliefs and ideologies that are valid

he isn't emotionally bound to any of his characters, he will kill whoever, as long as the story is interesting

he's deliberately not trying to sexualize his female characters, not just because of his parents, but also because he wants to leave a respectable impression. Mangaka profession is very looked down upon. He wants to change that

his net worth is somewhere around $12 million

he wants to stay anonymous bc he enjoys his commoner life, there's a certain freedom to being a normal person, he can go in public spaces without anyone recognizing his face. For instance: he secretly went watching the jjk 0 movie in theater along with the opening comments on the first day. A fan accidentally met him but he pretended to be a staff member

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

Like A Movie Part V

Summary: The final day of casting for Reader's movie leads to some sweet, sweet tension.

Word Count: 3.3K

A/N: The reception of this story is giving me LIFE. I love you guys! Are we liking this delicious slow burn?

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

The second and third days of auditions pass by much like the first one. Sans the panic attack about what to wear from you. You’re comfortable now, in the groove, and flowing with the process like selecting faces and voices to bring your art to life has always been your job. Few disputes occurred between the powers that be, you all mostly agree on who should be called back for what parts.

On the first day of callbacks, you got to see Jenna in action for the first time. You half expected her to just read off the script, prompting the other actors. But she’s a perfectionist, you know that about her now. She reads her lines like all the cameras are on her, like she’s on stage and the masses are watching with wide eyes. It challenges the other actors to push themselves, they have to be able to keep up with her.

But none of them shine the way she does. You figure that’s why she’s the star, she’s the brightest center of attention and the others are like pinpricks of light in her shadow. You’re reminded of the story of Icarus. You can’t help but wonder if you think maybe you feel like him, flying too close to the heat of Jenna’s sun. Or maybe these poor kids trying to shine next to her are more like him, their wax wings melting under the inferno of her.

You hadn’t written poetry since you’d taken up screenwriting, but being around her is making you think you should start again. You’re becoming painfully aware of your feelings for her, but you push them to the side the best you can. She’s your friend. She’s your director. She’s your burning star.

“What did you think?”

The sound of Jenna’s question directed at you shakes you from your reverie, and you blush realizing you hadn’t been paying attention to the reading. You had been busy watching her hands hold the script, watching her face cycle through the emotions the paper told her to express.

“Uh…pass?” You say, an apologetic smile pulling at your cheeks.

Jenna shakes her head at you, but she’s smiling. “Do we need to take a break?”

You suddenly feel as if fresh air is the only thing you need right now. You nod enthusiastically and the producers agree with you. It’s been hours, and everyone is growing weary. Chair legs screech as everyone stands, stretching their backs and legs.

You have half a mind to follow Jenna into the break room, but decide maybe some distance might help you clear your mind. Instead, you wander out in the hallway, making your way outside to feed your nicotine addiction that hadn’t been satiated in far too long. Maybe that’s what your issue was, you needed that sweet sweet head rush and then you could focus on hair that wasn’t golden brown, eyes that weren’t sweet as chocolate, and freckles that weren’t so damn perfect and adorable. Woof, man, this was bad.

When you push open the door to the alley, there are a handful of actors scattered about, doing the same thing as you. Some are smoking cigarettes, and some vaping. Either way, you’re all dependent on the same substance. You lean against the wall covered in graffiti and pull out your vape, dragging on it long and slow. Olivia is in a group of other actors and sees you, her face lighting up. She leaves them and beelines for you. You give her a small smile and a head nod as she approaches, beaming at you.

“Hi!” She says, she’s giddy, which takes you aback some. She’s acting like you’re the celebrity in the building. “How has it been for you so far? I know you’re not allowed to tell me about who’s doing well and who’s not, but are you having a good time?”

“Yeah I am, it’s all been very surreal honestly.”

She tucks a lock of golden blonde hair behind her ear, green eyes glinting in the late afternoon sun. “I really hope I land this job. I would absolutely die to work with Jenna. You’re so lucky.”

You chuckle, “You’re telling me! I’m in a constant state of gay panic and disbelief.”

She barks out a laugh that makes you smile. She’s very pretty and she’s rough around the edges. She has a deep laugh, and you can see tattoos poking out of the collar of her v-neck. Usually, she’d be exactly your type. And while you do like her, you don’t feel that magnetism for something more than friendship.

“Okay, I’ll let you go now, but I’m manifesting that I get this job, so I’ll see you around!” She says as she turns, smiling over her shoulder and throwing the door open.

You take another few drags from your vape feeling your mind slow and your body relax. You tuck it away and head back inside to get ready for the next reading. As you’re winding through the halls of the studio, you pass by an open doorway and through the corner of your eye you see Jenna. You stop past the door, then take a few steps backward and lean against the door frame.

She hasn’t noticed you yet, she’s got her black headphones over her ears and she’s writing notes in the margins of her worn copy of Secessus. You stay there, watching her for a while until she glances up. She startles, the leg that was hanging over the arm of the folding chair swinging to the ground. The script flies out of her lap onto the floor.

“Jesus y/n, you scared the shit out of me.”

You laugh and push yourself off the doorframe, making your way to the chair across from her. You pick up the script and sit down, keeping it in your lap.

“What’re you listening to?”

She blushes, “I uh…oh well I…” she stutters.

You gasp at her, a broad smile stretching across your face.

“You’re not listening to anything, are you?!” You accuse her.

She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head no. You’ve caught her. Her hands slide down her face, and she’s got an embarrassed half smile on her lips.

“I wear them so people leave me alone. You got me. And you’ve also failed at taking that hint.”

You scoff, “It’s basically my job to bother you at this point.”

She shakes her head, slipping the headphones around her neck, “You never bother me.”

Your eyebrows quirk up and your head jerks back a little. That’s a heavy compliment, and you tuck it away to dissect later.

“How are you feeling? About the actors, I mean.” You ask her.

“I think we’ve got some serious talent, and I’m going to have to stay on my toes to keep up with them.”

You snort and lean forward, “Are you kidding me? I feel bad for them. You’re incredible.”

She doesn’t reply, only sits forward and squints at you smiling like she can’t figure you out. She stays like that for a beat, then stands, holding her hand out.

You take it and stand with her, making her laugh hard.

“I wanted the script back, but I guess I can help your ancient ass stand up.” She laughs.

Your eyes widen and you blush, dropping her hand like it’s hot coal. You pass over the script, your other hand reaching up behind your neck, staring holes into the floor as your face heats up. You glance back up and she’s giving you the same expression as before, her eyes searching yours for something.

She loops her arm in yours and turns you toward the door, “Come on, let’s get this day over with.”

The skin on your arm feels like it’s on fire where she’s touching it. So much for the nicotine chill. She’s quickly and unconsciously flustering you again as she leads you back to the audition room.

The rest of the day passes by faster than you’d like, and before you know it, there’s a list of actors in front of Jenna, ‘FINAL CAST’ written in block letters at the top. Your group has settled on the talent and you find you’re glad it’s over. Olivia’s manifesting worked. She landed the role she had hoped for. She would be playing the first wife of Judas, and you’re happy for her. A tiny nagging thought at the back of your mind whispers to you, ‘they’ll have a romantic scene,’ and you feel the sparks of jealousy coil in your gut.

The feeling irritates you, it’s irrational and stupid, and you grow angry at yourself for feeling it at all. Jenna notices the change in your posture, your body language betraying you.

“Hey, are you okay? Do you think we made the wrong decision on someone?”

The softness of her voice and her hand reaching out to rest on your forearm tears you in half. You feel even angrier with yourself, but part of you is soothed at her concern.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes, “Yeah I’m good. Just tired I think.” You half lie. You are tired, but that’s not why your spine went rigid and your jaw flexed.

“Okay,” Jenna replies, hesitance in her voice. “Hey, I have a surprise for you. Will you come with me for another few hours? I know you’re tired, but I think you’re gonna love this.”

You take in her expression, her eyes wide and hopeful. You couldn’t say no to her if you wanted to. And you didn’t want to, you wanted to spend as much time with her as you could. You couldn’t let her know that though. You’re stubborn, remember?

“Sure. I think I can squeeze you in between my dates with my couch and my tv.”

She rolls her eyes at you and retakes your arm, dragging you out to the parking lot. You rode your bike to the studio, so your car wasn’t there. Jenna pulls you to her car and opens the passenger door for you. She drives a Volvo SUV. It’s an electric car, because of course it is. She really is Captain Planet. Your bike is already in the trunk, and you turn to look at it curiously, then turn to her as she opens the drivers side door.

She glances back at it and then back to you. “I had my assistant put it in here after you got here.” She says, answering your unasked question.

“So you just knew I’d come with you?”

She eyes you, considering if she even needs to answer the question. “I figured you would. Guess I figured right.” She says as she backs the car out of the parking spot.

You cross your arms over your chest, but you’re amused. You can’t tell if you find it sweet that she knows you well enough now to predict what you’ll do or if it grates under your skin that you’ve let yourself be so predictable. Probably both, you decide.

Jenna turns up her music and the two of you ride in comfortable silence. She points the car away from LA, driving north. As the suburbs of the city give way to hills and underbrush, you start to wonder where she’s taking you. After twenty minutes, you find the suspense is too much and you have to ask.

“Are you taking me to the desert to murder me and steal my identity?”

She side eyes you, giving you an exasperated look. “Yes y/n, because my face wouldn’t give me away if I stole your identity. We’re almost there, relax, enjoy the suspense.”

You huff like a child, “You should know I hate surprises.”

“Too bad.” She says quickly, making you roll your eyes and smile.

You relent and settle in, turning your body away from Jenna to look out the window. Your head rests on the seat as you watch the scenery grow wilder with every mile you pass by.

After another ten minutes, Jenna is pulling off the road onto a long dirt drive that seemingly leads to nowhere. You sit up and look around, trying to find clues about where she’s taking you. She’s watching you out of the side of her eye again, glancing over at you every few minutes as she drives down the dirt road. A dilapidated farmhouse pulls into view, its shutters hanging off the hinges, paint peeling off the clapboards.

You frown, your lip curling at the house, instinctually nervous about the place. You look over to Jenna and she doesn’t react, she just keeps driving toward the house. She parks in front of it and turns to you, smiling wide.

“Oh god you actually are going to kill me, aren’t you?” You sigh, “I guess there are worse ways to die.”

She huffs a laugh through her nose and shakes her head at you. Her car door pops open, and she gets out, walking around to the front of the car. She looks at you through the windshield, waving for you to join her. You cross your arms and shake your head no, your face telling her she’s lost her damn mind if she thinks you’re getting out of the car. She throws her hands up and comes around to your door, popping it open.

“Come on, let me show you this.”

“Dude I write scary movies for a living. No fucking way.”

She looks at you like you’ve made her point for her. There are dots you’re not connecting here. Then realization clobbers you over the head and your eyes widen. You unbuckle your seatbelt and slide out of the car. You look up at the house, and see your words written there, the darkening sky, the mountains in the distance, the creaking door swinging on its hinges.

“It’s…it’s Secessus.” You say, awe filling your voice.

“Welcome to your world y/n. Obviously we’ll put some work into it, but this homestead is almost exactly what you wrote. Down to the funky barn in the back.”

“It’s fucking creepy.” Your eyes are wide and your mouth hangs open slightly.

She smirks, “You wrote it. You should know it’s fucking creepy.”

You lean back against the car, your eyes still scanning over the setting. Jenna has really outdone herself on this one. The place is terrifying, and you can see flashes of your movie coming to life in your mind. The feeling bubbles up in you and you start getting excited. Your eyes are bright and your smile is wild as you move off the car and around the house, chasing scenes in your head.

Jenna laughs following, “Wait wait, don’t go inside. The contractors are coming out tomorrow to make sure everything is structurally sound. Then they’ll start building the set around it.”

You skid to a stop, still giddy. Your movie was going to be a reality. Something you created from your own mind was going to be brought to life. And you had no one to thank but Jenna. You turn to her and she’s watching you, her face bright with enthusiasm. You’re not thinking, not processing anything but pure unbridled joy. You sweep her up in a bear hug, lifting her feet off the ground and swaying her around.

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” You tell her, feeling her arms wrap around the back of your neck as you swing her around.

She’s laughing, her breath warm against your neck, bringing you back down to earth and then shooting you off again as you realize she’s in your arms. You gently set her down, your arms still around her waist. She leaves her arms around your neck as she smiles up at you, both of you breathing heavily. Your mind is blank and full of ideas all at once. Bad ideas, but ideas nonetheless. She’s gazing up at you, blinking slowly and she glances down at your lips. You’re both waiting for something, anything, to tell you what the correct answer is.

A loud ringing comes through her car speakers, cracking through the quiet night like a whip. You both jump apart, shy about the moment you almost shared.

“That’s my phone,” Jenna says, retreating around her car.

You gasp for air when she’s safely on the other side of the car, far enough away for her not to hear you. Were you about to kiss her? Was she about to let you? What in the hell was happening right now? You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself.

Jenna walks around the car back to your side, still talking on the phone. You pull out your vape and drag from it, trying to play it cool.

“Seriously, next week is pretty short notice, don’t you think?” She says, clearly irritated with whoever she’s talking to. She mouths, “I’m sorry” to you and you shrug.

“What if I don’t want to go with him?” She waits as the person responds to her, throwing her head back and her arm out in frustration. “Because we’re not dating? What if I want to take someone else?”

She sighs as the other person talks for a while, leaning up against the car. Her body language is defeated.

“Okay okay, but after this, it’s done.” She waits a beat, “Yeah I’ll tell her. Okay, you’re a menace, thank you goodbye!” She says smiling and hanging up.

She slides her phone back into her pocket and looks up at you. “Sorry. That was my agent.”

“Oh yeah? What did he want?” You ask her.

“We have to go to a premiere next week.”

“We?”

“Yes we. And some of the cast from Secessus. He thinks it’ll be a good way to start talk about the movie.”

“Why are you upset about that?” You ask her, not understanding the whole story.

“I’m not. It’ll be fine. He wants me to go with my costar from the movie I just released.”

The spark of jealousy from earlier reignites in your gut. “Ah.” You say, not wanting to say anything else in case your voice betrays you and exposes the feeling burning in your veins now.

She sighs, “I get it, I do. We have to get people excited. But everyone already thinks we’re dating and this is definitely going to make it worse.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes.

“That’s not so bad is it? He’s handsome.” You say, beating back the green-eyed monster under your skin.

“He’s alright.” She says, glancing up at you. She sighs again and pushes off the car. “We should get back. It’s getting late.”

You nod and open the car door, hauling yourself into the seat. You decide to hide your feelings with humor and smile over at her when she starts the car.

“So is this like a dickies and t-shirt kind of premiere, or will I be safe in sweats?”

She laughs, and you relax, the tension between you breaking at last. “You can come to meet my stylist this weekend. He'll take care of you.”

“As long as he doesn’t put me in a sheer dress and ten inch heels, I’d be happy to.”

“Oh you’re so funny aren’t you? I’ll tell him to put you in a miniskirt if you keep it up.”

You make a zipping your lips motion and smile, settling back in the seat for the drive home. What a fucking day it’s been. You’re exhausted. You’ve been on a rollercoaster of emotions all week and this day was the peak of what you could handle. You decide to call Nando over for beers as soon as you get home. He always knows how to talk you down.

You glance over at Jenna and you can tell her mind is whirring a million miles an hour, but you don’t ask her about it. You’ve had enough excitement for one day.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #vada cavell #tara carpenter

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stardust-swan · 1 year

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Lifestyle of the Refined, Cultured City Girl

She takes advantage of living somewhere with access to many cultural activities. She attends the symphony, the theatre, the ballet, and the orchestra. She visits art galleries and museums. She attends book readings, poetry readings, lectures by experts in various subjects, and writer's talks. She watches independent films in small cinemas. She goes to fashion shows. She unwinds by reading in a beautiful, old library. Many of these activities are free or cheap, so money is rarely a concern.

She has social hobbies, like playing an instrument in a local band, attending a book club or writer's group, participating in poetry readings, and taking evening classes and workshops on subjects like painting, fashion, learning a language, culinary classes, learning an instrument, etc.

She has private hobbies too, like writing a novel, creating art, studying, reading, and taking private music lessons.

On dates, she goes to painting classes where her and her date paint each other's portrait, pottery classes where they make each other something special, fine restaurants where she and her date try new cuisine, and upscale hotels for a fine afternoon tea.

She is always studying. Whether it's in University for a degree that will help her get her dream job, or a less formal education like learning about the world of art from her trips to the galleries, or learning about the history and culture of her city by exploring it, she's always taking advantage of the opportunities she has to expand her knowledge.

She participates in cultural festivities that may be held in her city, such as wine tastings, cheese tastings, art exhibits, film festivals, and book fairs.

She visits historical landmarks and sites to learn about her city's past and culture.

She visits rooftop bars and lounges, both to socialise and admire the view of the city.

She networks with people in high positions, and socialises at events and gatherings like cocktail parties, charity functions, and dinner parties.

She visits both high end boutiques and small, locally owned shops.

She spends time in nature by going to parks and botanical gardens.

She gives back to her community by support or volunteering with a charity or non-profit

She attends a yoga or meditation class at a wellness centre.

She discovers her local patisseries and bakeries and enjoys fresh baked goods.

She takes walking or cycling tours of the city's historic districts to learn about its culture and landmarks.

She visits a local farmers market for fresh produce and unique artisanal products.

She's always dressed impeccably. You will never see her in ratty old clothes, gym gear unless she's actually in the gym, or flip-flops unless she's at the beach. Her hair is always tidy, and her makeup never looks caked on. Her nails are always clean and neat. Her skincare routine is down to a T. She never says "I'm just going to the store" as an excuse to dress frumpily, as she knows there's always the risk of running into someone important and does not want to look like a slob. She does not hold onto clothes that are worn out, damaged, or unflattering, leaving only chic outfits available to dress in. She checks herself from all angles before leaving home to make sure there's no wardrobe malfunctions happening at the back of her outfit, e.g a hole in the back of her jeans. She honours herself, those around her, and her city by looking presentable and neat everyday.

Her home is never cluttered. It is decorated with art, including some paintings or pictures of the city, and she has photographs on the mantelpiece of the friends she's made there. She has a variety of books on a range of subjects that interest her. Her kitchen is well-equipped - no living on takeout for her. She has a set of high quality china and luxurious bedding and linen. She plays classical and jazz music instead of keeping the TV on for background noise. She treats herself to a bouquet of flowers to put in a vase occasionally, and may have a houseplant. She lights candles for a beautiful smell. She may have a collection of herbal teas to help her relax in the evenings. She may even have a well-stocked mini bar, space and funds permitting. Her wardrobe is carefully selected. Her home is stylish, yet comfortable, and always feels ready for guests. She practices the art of entertaining, and does it well.

She knows about hidden treasures in her city that one can't find out about just from doing an internet search. For example, in Paris, a string quartet of musicians meet up on a random day each week and play a free concert in the courtyard of the Louvre, but you wouldn't know this from looking up places to visit in Paris. It's something you must discover on your own or hear about by word of mouth. It could be a small unassuming café that makes the best dish you've ever tasted, or a beautiful building people rarely visit (like the medieval church/graveyard in my neighbourhood that's usually locked up and difficult to see into because of the high walls surrounding it, but if you pass by at the right time, the groundskeepers may be there and let you in to see the blooming flowers and trees beyond the graveyard gates if you ask nicely), an out-of-the-way boutique that sells gorgeous garments, a hidden park tucked away from the main streets, or a secret or exclusive bar or nightclub.

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valentiyne · 7 months

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𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗆𝖾 ☆ 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽

Calum Hood x Fem!Reader Summary: Inspired by Right Where You Left Me by T.S, angst angst angst Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 2k Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

*Italics refer to a flashback sequence & listen to voicemail after

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

May 2014

"What do you mean you're leaving?", I grab onto his upper arm, pulling him to turn and face me.

Calum's chocolate eyes were filled to the brim with tears now, avoiding my gaze for as long as possible. I'm sure he was wondering how I found out- it's not like any of his friends were great at keeping their mouths shut.

"Cal, answer me", I plead now, my grip tightening around his forearm. He didn't meet my eyes for what felt like an entire hour. I stood in front of him, my chest rising and falling as quick as it could without fail.

The rest of the group sat inside, wrapped around a table as they shared good memories with their closest friends. It didn't take long for me to catch up on what was really going on. The last-minute dinner reservation with everyone, Luke's apologetic eyes, and Michael's sympathetic look painted the picture for me- They took the world tour offer.

"Calum please," His name was unfamiliar to me now.

His eyes finally meet mine and my breath gets caught in my throat. They were darker than usual, his cheap cherry-scented cologne filled my nose and I wanted nothing more than to embrace him.

"I don't know what you want me to say", He finally speaks, his ring clasped hand reaching up to push his hood forward on his head.

"When are you leaving?"

"We leave tomorrow"

"For how long"

He hesitates, looking down at me with a deadpan. "I don't know"

May 2020

I look down at the stack of papers on my desk, my head rushing with thoughts that I couldn't bring myself to write down. I click the pen vigorously, my eyes squeezed shut as I try and forget everything.

In my head, I was still there in that restaurant. Even 6 years later.

"Y/n?", My assistant, Kat, calls from the other side of the door and I groan to myself, sliding out of my chair and closer to the door. My hand rests on the metal handle, retracting quickly as it reminds me of a familiar metal clasped hand.

"Yes?", My voice is weak, barely above a whisper and I mentally curse myself as soon as It slips past my lips.

I could hear her shift between two legs, her shy voice peppering up a little louder, "You asked me to remind you to take your dinner break."

I thank her kindly and turn my back to the door, sliding down on to the floor and hitting the soft carpet with a thud. I could hear my phone vibrating on my desk, mentally rolling my eyes to the fourth scam call of the day. I was stuck, I had no idea what I was going to do with myself anymore. Hung up on the one who got away with no explanation of any sort.

I tried for six years to get it out of my head: numerous therapy sessions, taking on poetry and even going on walks.

But everything led me back to that restaurant at the same time every night.

It was a family-owned Italian restaurant that we had found one afternoon after school, Calum begging me to try it with him. It had become a routine of going there any chance we could, even if it meant in between his band rehearsals.

I walk down the familiar rode, looking at every painful memory that surrounds me. From the tree that we carved our initials in to the bench he threw up next to because he stupidly convinced the bartender to serve underage us.

I push past the familiar door, smiling at the hostess at the door. They all knew the routine, coming in every day at 7:41 p.m. and sitting at the booth up until 8:39- the exact moment he walked out those doors for the last time.

The restaurant was busy tonight, multiple people packed at the door complaining about the long waitlist. I strode past them nevertheless, keeping my head down as I made my way to the tiny table in the corner.

I look up, expecting to be met with the collection of dust and cobwebs welcoming themselves in my- our spot. I didn't realize I wasn't breathing until my chest began to feel like it was erupting in flames. I exhale heavily and pull my eyes away from his, turning on my heel to dart back out through the maze of people.

"Y/n", His voice is breathless, standing up quickly causing the silverware to clatter on the plate and the wooden chair to fall backward. I halted in place, his voice was deeper now and it still danced around my head.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion as I turned around and faced him. His hair was longer now, curling all around his face and down the crook of his neck where my head used to lay. I blink once, then twice before my mouth opens.

"Calum." I give him a nod, my hands shaking as I stare at him. It felt like looking at a stranger, someone I used to know all about and yet none at the same time.

He's the first to make a move, walking one step forward.

"I didn't think you'd show up," his voice was quiet now as he stared at me across the resturaunt at me. I adjust my purse on my shoulder, staring back at his doe-eyed boy in front of me.

"This is my spot", I murmur under my breath with a nervous laugh. I take the next step, noticing his arms widen to pull me into a hug which I politely declined. I brushed past him, my shoulders rubbing his chest as I set my purse down on the floor and scooted into the wooden chair. He turns to face me again before slowly walking to the other side and placing his chair upright, his eyes glued to me. He sits down in the chair and folds his arms on top of the table. In front of me was a large bottle of red wine, something Calum knew better than anyone else I hated.

"What are you doing here, Calum?", I whisper, my breath making the vanilla-scented candle in the middle of us wiggle.

He stirs his water with his straw, looking down now, "I wanted to see you."

He was admitting the very words I begged to hear for 6 years

I stare up at him, my eyes lowering into a squint.

"You have some nerve," I spit out, my eyes beginning to water as my throat burns. "I waited for you for over six years, in the very seat you're in now. And what? You show back up after 6 years of zero contact?"

He rolls his sleeves up, showing off the various ink that stained his arms. Brown eyes looked back at me in confusion, earning a scoff from me before he could speak, "Zero contact? I- Y/n what are you talking about?" His voice was lowered now as numerous people were walking past.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." I never thought this day would come- the day I could tell him everything without repercussions. The worst that could happen is him staying gone this time.

"No, Y/n. I called you every single day for the past six years", he pulls his phone out and begins scrolling. I sit in silence, not wanting to feed into his lie.

"Look", he shows me his screen, all the call logs, and voicemails overflowed the screen. I stared at him for as long as possible, my eye twitching slightly at the sight.

"I called three times a day for over 6 years- you were the one not answering"

I grab my purse from the floor, digging through it rapidly to find my phone. I meet the cold metal with my fingertips and rip it out, scrolling through it frantically before finding his contact name.

"CalPal" is read and I smiled to myself slightly, scrolling down to the bottom of the contact card to see the very words I wish I hadn't.

Unblock Caller

I stared in disbelief, looking up quickly to meet his eyes slowly with my mouth hung agape.

"What? I never-"

"I did."

I look at him in shock, my eyes widened as I try and form a sentence. I wasn't quite sure what to even say.

"Wh-"

He cuts me off now, his hand raising up to speak, "I blocked myself off your phone all those years ago, I couldn't bear the thought knowing I left" He pauses, looking between both of my watery eyes before continuing, "It was selfish of me, but I knew in my heart....I .. I couldn't imagine not coming home to you every night." His voice wavered towards the end of the sentence

"How could you...?", I start with a meek sob, my hand clasping over my mouth to silence myself slightly. "Why would you do that?" My voice is louder now.

"Because I was scared- Knowing I'd be leaving you here and not knowing when I'd return" He was disappointed in himself, his voice barely audible as he looked back down at his phone.

"I sat here for years, Calum, scrolling through every single fucking concert video or update account until my fingers were numb- all for what? To save yourself from facing the guilt?"

He cleared his throat and kept his eyes glued on the vanilla-scented candle in front of us that was almost out. I couldn't make out the expression that was plastered on his face: guilt? sadness?

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I had no choice", He stands up now and I match his movements, snapping my hand up to his forearm as I had last time we were in this exact position.

"Don't..Don't leave me here again Calum- I don't think I can survive this heartbreak again."

He looks down at his forearm with a deadpan, looking back up at me.

"Calum, Please. Answer me." My voice was wavering as I tightened my grip on his tattooed arm. His pupils were enlarged as he stared down at me, his chest rising and falling as though he was mentally battling with himself inside his head.

"CalPalll!", I hear a squeal from behind us. His eyes widen for a brief moment before he tears his arm from my reach, whirling around to where the voice is coming from. He was met with a tight embrace and a sloppy kiss on the lips by a brunette with kind eyes. It all happened so fast, that I wasn't even sure what I was looking at until he pulled away with guilt written all over his face.

My nickname. Different girl.

I nodded a few times, reaching down to grab my purse slowly all while keeping my eyes on the doe eyes looking back at me. I looked over my shoulder at the table set for two behind me, suddenly understanding everything.

He invited her here- to our spot. He didn't expect me to show up

"Y/n...", He starts and I raise a finger in response, adjusting my purse onto my shoulder before pushing past him with a harsh shoulder check.

My heels clicked on the pavement, throat closed up as I passed by the bench and tree one last time. I look down at my phone, noticing the time with watery eyes.

8:39 p.m

New voicemail in your inbox: 2 hours ago from CalPal

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sugary-bluebell · 1 year

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Can I request genshin impact Short genshin boys (Specifically Tighnari, Cyno, Heizou, Venti, And Kazuha) with a lazy yet genius male reader. If you don’t do Headcanons with multiple people then I’ll let you choose one of the short boys

short boys with a lazy yet genius bf

《☆》《☆》《☆》《☆》

°•A/n: so, I left out Cyno since i don't have a good understanding of his character yet Imo, also so sorry for not writing this sooner, love. i have been a bit busy with things :')

◇Warnings◇: none(?)

°•Characters: Tighnari, Heizou, Venti and Kazuha

°•Reader: male, can be read as gn tho

Tighnari:

What is he gonna do with you?

Don't get him wrong, he absolutely adores you but can you PUlease get your work done?

As much as loves taking naps with you somewhere in the forest he doesn't want you putting your work till last minute

Again, might he add

You two first met in the academias library...you were passed out while reading for one of ur major exams the night before

While other scholars and students thought you were cheating your way through, cuz all they see you doing is napping or messing around

Tighnari has experienced ur hard work, and to answer ur question, no it wasn't because he was tutoring you or through a group project, we aren't in a romantic fantasy ofc or are we-

No, thanks to his good hearing, he can hear your mumbling when you're memorising or the scribblings of your pen when it hits the paper

You and him make a good team when it comes to research or work in general

He keeps you motivated to finish the said project without procrastinating and you not only remind him to take brakes, you have also stopped him from poisoning himself with wild mushrooms on multiple occasions-

You also love using his tail as a pillow, and he let's you! :D

Heizou:

Honestly, if it wasn't for your laziness, you would've given him a run for his mora-

ofc he'll never admit you could be a better detective than him, not only for his pride but also to keep Sara away from you

He LOVES when you visit his office <3

Plus you almost always bring snacks with you

Sometimes you tag along with him to the crim scenes

Yes, technically, he isn't allowed to bring you there but he loves when you help him out

And lemme tell you, he LOVES how after you two are done, your eyes get droopy and an adorable pout-

He'll die happy if you were his last memory

Venti:

While this alcoholic loves and appreciates how smart you are- he loves that your lazy way more

Why? Well, he likes napping with you during the afternoon on the hands of his statue, you also bring blankets and pillows too

Dw he helps getting them up there-

Every time there's an event at angels share he drags you with so you can calculate the cheapest price he can get for high quality wine

Loves listening to you rambling about ur work while slowly falling asleep <3

He does drag you on walks tho, he worries so daily walks in or out of mondstad is a thing

Offered you a sip of his fave wine only to drop his glass once you told him you figured out the ingredients and methods in making it

Kaeya lifting his eye patch with his jaw going slack in the background after hearing what you just said

Kazuha:

Goo goo eyes in your direction 24/7 from him but your too tired to notice

Loves reading poetry to you and loves getting feedback from his beloved bunny <3

Calls you bunny cuz he saw your cheek squashed against the table you were working on and thought of a bunny

You tried to write a poem for him but it took so long that you thought to give him it another day-

..only for him to find it and blush like a madman while reading what you wrote

It doesn't even have to be good cuz he's touched that you squeezed in the time to write this from him, knowing how many projects you have going on

When you pull all nighters, he lights calming sented candles, makes you the drink or snack of your choice, gives you a kiss on the forehead with encouraging words and leaves you be to focus

Looking into the things your passionate about to engage in a conversation about it just cuz it makes you happy and they way your eyes light up is just so beautiful to him

#genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact venti #genshin impact kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact heizou #genshin impact tighnari #genshin impact headcanons #m!reader #x male reader #x gn reader #gn!reader

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funny-upset-clown · 2 months

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Write everyday, and that will be good enough.

I ripped myself from my cycle, from the sheets, the burning candle; cackling, waning, from the pale window side and the brownie pan, from the sulking desk, the blackening curtain that once smelled of turmeric and a spring dawn.

On the bus I felt the eyes and fumes of strangers, I felt winter loosening into its skin, the bus halt, go, halt, twist, accumulating hot air. I did not think of anything, nothing I can remember now, except that one mantra I shall not refuse:

I must become an acquaintance to that which passes through me and circles back, hour to hour, the pang of lost love, the image of love in a person who is now lost totally, or even the sneeze of peace, the forgiving hello of my life's image: multi-florescent and whole.

I cannot get out of my head the fear of what alienation cumulatively does to me. I cannot quite pinpoint the ideal exodus of my isolation. I imagine myself surrounded by church bells, I imagine myself grinning at climax - covered in saliva and sunrays, I imagine the lullaby that is pure curiosity as it butters my nerves with the first phrase of mystery. I imagine myself and a flower alone considering the sound. I imagine falling in love over and over again.

Perhaps I imagine being more open to the sensation of love wherever it may take me.

That is the secret of the time I was once most happy.

To recall that security, is to outline its absence in me now. I breathe in.

Sitting at the cafe where I will be reading poetry in a few weeks. I cannot afford a refill on my tea. The street lamps just turned on and the sky has shifted from a blinding pale gray to a shadowed cerulean that peels my very heart from me and it is just 4:40 in the afternoon. As for the hunger, I don't feel it in my stomach, I feel it in my lips and my spine, now in my nose with the whiff of a stew being boiled in the back. I wrap my thin sweatshirt around my bound torso and adjust my glasses, the window glass gets thinner and my fingers jump over the keys- broken by chill. I consider commuting home, I consider the waiting and shivering. I consider passing groups of friends and lovers seen through restaurant windows, feasting and laughing, I consider the light in eyes that will not look my way. I consider the jealousy and the building starvation. I also consider waiting here, writing here, then reading. Finding a way to resource any warmth, drinking the free water, my right leg crossed over my left swaying weakly and melodiously. Waiting until Coles opens. I wouldn't buy a beer. If I did it would fill me up like a meal and I'd feel warm for a moment. I consider being there, no money in my pocket, nothing to fall back on except the single day bus pass I dropped half of all my money on.

I consider my options.

I could steal again. I'd steal a candle and a hot drink.

I think about A and flinch to my surprise. A song plays that reminds me of when they bought me a bouquet of marigolds from out the car window on my birthday.

I imagine them walking in through the jingling door and feeling okay. I imagine their warm hands falling all around mine

and now the cold is becoming too much to bear.

The sky now looks like an oil spill in ocean waters. The door jingles, the train roars, my nipples get cold, my foot starts shaking faster. I don't need anybody to look at me, no I do not. All of this because I am practically nothing at all, especially as long as I am alive, and this is not to rouse despair.

It is now 5pm, and I will prepare myself to find something new. I just have to gnaw the sting of wind and the blow of hunger.

I am content to have eyes, I will record for this sake, for the sake of writing just to write everyday.

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bokutokoutarou · 2 years

Text

dating the genshin impact men

includes ↬ kaeya, diluc, kazuha, childe, xiao, zhongli, albedo & thoma

a/n ↬ a couple months ago i made these dating hcs for the aot characters, so i thought i’d make a similar one for genshin!

kaeya: flirty banter and witty conversations that last for hours on end, passionate encounters in his office with the challenge of not letting the other knights hear, locking eyes with each other in group conversations as if you’re giving each other secret messages, going on nightly excursions to the angel’s share to get utterly wasted, sitting outside the tavern laughing uncontrollably together after diluc kicks you out, taking care of each other’s hangovers in the morning, being reckless together because nothing can go wrong if you’re by each other’s side

diluc: holding his hand/clinging onto his body when it's cold because his vision makes him radiate warmth, tying his hair back in the morning and taking it down for him before bed, spending evenings at the angel's share admiring how unintentionally gorgeous he looks as he pours drinks, falling asleep at the tavern yet waking up in bed with his arms wrapped around you because he carried you home, him slowly but surely opening up to you about his past because he trusts you more than anyone he’s ever known

kazuha: stirring in your sleep in the morning because you feel him press his lips to your cheek, waking up to his gentle hums as he cooks you breakfast, going on afternoon walks with your fingers laced together at all times, bashfully listening to the overly romantic music and poetry he’s created about you, having random philosophical conversations simply out of a shared fascination for the universe, resting your head on his chest when it’s time for bed and falling asleep to the rhythm of his heart beating.

childe: going to snezhnaya together and being welcomed into his family with open arms, his younger brother teucer telling you he’s heard all about you from ajax’s letters, sharing hot chocolate as you watch the snow fall outside from the warmth of his childhood home, fights about each other’s safety ending with intense displays of passion and love, being constantly afraid for what’s yet to come yet staying by his side because you can’t lose him and he can’t lose you either.

xiao: sitting in silence together atop of wangshu inn and basking in the presence of each other's company, gently tracing the outline of his tattoos when he looks like he's had a particularly bad day, soft forehead kisses pressed against his violet diamond marking, learning how to cook almond tofu to surprise him, him claiming that it's the best almond tofu he's ever had (not because it tastes inherently different, but because somewhere deep inside him he can feel that you made it with love)

zhongli: being called "love" and "dear" just as much as your own name, surprising him with trinkets he can't afford to buy, romantic homemade dinners based on recipes he'd learned over the millennia he’s been alive for, late night walks around the lantern lit streets of liyue with his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, being lulled to sleep during pillowtalk because the stories he tells are so unnecessarily long, remaining conscious just long enough to hear him whisper “i love you”

albedo: hugging him from behind and playing with his golden locks as he experiments in dragonspine, encouragingly listening to him as he tells you about his findings (even if you don't fully understand them), getting distracted as he talks to you sometimes because you're mesmerized by his icy blue eyes, talking to him as he paints because he claims that "hearing your voice calms him down, which thus increases his inspiration and artistic abilities", never feeling as though there's a problem too difficult to tackle because with albedo there's always a solution

thoma: stopping to pet random dogs and animals whenever you go on walks, singing and dancing as you complete housework together, him proudly introducing you as his partner and going on embarrassing tangents about how amazing you are to anyone who’ll listen, him saying “after you, my love” whenever he holds doors open for you, getting late night teas from the teahouse to unwind after a tiring day, him telling you every night how grateful he is to have you in his life because he never wants there to be a moment where you forget it

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cordonianroyalairlines · 4 months

Text

Ball Drop

Series: Cordonian Royal Airlines

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: Various

Pairing for this chapter: Riley x Drake

Word Count: 1,768

Rating: G

Warnings for this chapter: None

“Come on, one more dance!” Riley laughed as she tugged Max toward the dance floor.

“No, really, I’m going to head up to my room now.”

“Really?” She stopped and turned to study him. “With whom?”

“No one!”

“What do you mean, no one?”

“I mean, I’m going to my room alone. To sleep!”

“But it’s not even midnight yet! And I’ve seen at least four hot guys hit on you tonight…” she trailed off as she regarded him thoughtfully. Her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. “Oh. My. God!”

“What?”

“You’re going to your room alone because of Liam!”

Max scoffed loudly. “Why would you think that?”

“Because there’s no other reason you would turn those guys down! Especially the one with the crop top.” She stole a glance across the room as if to verify her previous opinion. “I don’t say this often because you know you’re a ten…but that guy is out of your league. On a scale of one to ten, he’s an eleven.”

“First of all…” Max followed her eyes before turning back to answer, “He’s a nine. Okay, nine and a half. Can’t I just be sleepy?”

“Since when do you lie to your best friend?”

“Okay, fine.” Max’s shoulders slumped as he let out a long, low exhale. “I have an early flight out in the morning. I want to get back home because Liam invited me to a poetry reading or something.”

“And you’re only telling me this now?”

“It just happened this afternoon, and you were busy pulling all this together.” He gestured back toward the VIP lounge area where her sister’s bachelorette party was in full swing.

“Hm.” She pretended to consider the matter deeply before breaking into a huge grin. “Fine. I’ll let it slide this time. But I want full details of this date.”

“I don’t even know if it is a date! What if he just meant get together and hang out as friends?”

“He’s never invited me or any of the other flight attendants to hang out. It’s a date.”

“I hope so! I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have my sister and twenty-six of her closest friends. Not to mention the stripper.”

“Yeah. How did we end up with him again?”

Riley shrugged. “He followed us over from the strip club. I’m pretty sure he likes Amelia’s friend Jessica.”

Max laughed. “It’s been a baffling weekend.”

“Yeah.” Riley agreed. Monaco had been fun, but she was ready to go home. “I can’t believe you’re going to bed early, not to mention alone, on New Year’s Eve. You’ve got it bad!”

“I knooooow!” Max wailed. “What the fuck am I going to do about it?”

“Liam, hopefully,” she snickered.

He couldn’t control the grin that engendered as he gave her a playful shove. “Shut up!”

“Never!”

Max’s gaze locked on something over her shoulder. “Well, I was feeling guilty for leaving you to ring in the new year alone, but something tells me you’re going to be just fine.”

Confusion spilled through her. “What?” She angled her body so she could see what he was looking at. Her eyes widened. Her heart started thumping wildly in her chest. Her palms were suddenly clammy. “What is he doing here?”

“I dunno. Let’s find out.” Max raised his arm and waved it in the air as he called out, “Drake! Drake! Over here!”

“Max, no!” She made a swipe for his arm, but it was too late. He sidestepped her and jogged across the room, returning a few minutes later with Drake in tow.

Drake looked a little bemused as Max deposited him in front of Riley, then said his goodbyes and excused himself to his room. Drake waved bye to Max then turned back to Riley. “What are you two doing here?”

“Oh…ah…” she gestured toward the group of rowdy women dressed in sparkly pink t-shirts, “Sister’s bachelorette party. You?”

He nodded as his eyes tracked down her body, taking in her sparkly pink shirt emblazoned with the words Maid of Honor before answering, “Guy’s weekend.”

She tilted her head to one side, then the other, making a show of looking behind him. “Where are the rest of the guys?”

“Ah….” His head swiveled, looking around the club. “That’s a good question. But it’s not guys plural. It’s just me and Leo.”

“I didn’t know you and Leo were close.”

“We’re not…Bertrand was originally supposed to come with him, but he got sick. Then Liam said it wasn’t his scene…”

“So, you were the third choice, then?”

“Fourth, actually. He tried to get Olivia to go, but she told him what he could do with his invitation. In explicit detail.”

Riley tipped her head back and laughed. “That sounds like her!”

“Heh. Yeah.” A soft smile played across his lips as he appreciated the way her face lit up when she laughed. “How was your Christmas?”

“It was good. Yours?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” he hedged.

“I thought I might see you on Christmas after we landed.”

Surprise flashed across his face. Had she wanted to see him? “I figured you were in a hurry to get to your parents. I guess you made it okay?”

“Oh yes! My mom managed to save me a piece of pumpkin pie. Which is quite a feat in a big family.”

“I can imagine.” He laughed. The way Riley talked about her family made him wonder what it would have been like if his family had stayed close like they had been before his father left.

“Riley? What the hell are you doing here?” Leo stumbled up with his arm slung around a buxom blond that was poured into her gold lame dress. He pointed between her and Drake. “Are you two a thing now?”

“Jesus Rys. You’re fucking drunk.” Drake grumbled.

Leo grinned at him. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? What happened to that redhead you were with earlier?”

Drake froze as a flush crept up his neck. His eyes slid sidewise to take in Riley’s expression as he snapped, “She wasn’t my type.”

Riley was studiously tracing the lines on the carpet with her eyes as she struggled not to react to the thought of Drake with some gorgeous redhead.

“Sure looked like your type when you were sucking face on the dance floor,” Leo smirked.

“Ah…I should go. Nice seeing you both.” Riley spun and headed blindly across the room.

Drake smacked Leo in the chest. “You’re a real dick, Rys, you know that?”

Leo jolted back in dismay as his drink sloshed over the rim of the glass. Confusion colored his voice. “What did I do?”

But Drake was already gone. “Riley, wait!” He rushed after her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. “It’s not like that! She’s friends with the girl Leo is with and they kind of pawned her off on me. She kissed me but I-“

“Drake, you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“You’re upset.” He tried to keep the note of surprised happiness out of his voice. He failed.

It was her turn to blush. Embarrassment swirled through her as the music stopped and people started counting down toward the new year. She felt ridiculous. They weren’t a couple. Why did she care what he did? “No, really. It’s fine. I just…after Christmas I kind of thought….I mean….never mind. I should—” She tried to turn and walk away again.

He moved without thought, lunging after her. His fingers wrapped around her arm. He stumbled to get in front of her as he pulled her to stop.

Fury snapped in her eyes. “What?”

“I—”

The room around them finished the countdown. “…three….two….one….happy new year!”

Cheers filled the room as streamers, balloons, and confetti poured down from the ceiling.

It was New Year’s at the stroke of midnight. He was standing in a nightclub in Monaco with the woman who bedeviled him and haunted his dreams. If that wasn’t a sign, he didn’t know what was.

He jerked her body into his and crashed his lips against hers. Her body stiffened in surprise and for half a second he was sure she would pull away, maybe even slap him for his audacity.

Then she leaned into it, melting against him. She arched upwards as she returned the kiss.

Ardently.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and pressed into the back of his neck as her tongue curled around his, slowly at first, then with more urgency as her body responded to his, matching his heat with her own.

The crowd disappeared as they lost themselves in each other, desperately clinging to a moment that might never happen again.

A shrill voice intruded. “Riley! Riley!”

She pulled away from him in bemusement, lips swollen, face flushed, confetti clinging to her hair, blinking as if awakening from a dream. “That’s my sister….”

“Yeah, sorry. You should go.” He forced himself to release her and reluctantly took a step back.

“I don’t want to…”

“Riley—” He took a step toward her, reaching a hand out toward her face.

A blond, drunk version of Riley stumbled between them, giggling, “There you are! I need you to — Oh! Who is this?”

Riley gave Drake an apologetic shake of her head as she tried to introduce him. “Drake, this is my sister, Amelia. Mellie, this is Drake, he—”

“Ooh, you’re very cute!” the blond purred up at him. “Is he another stripper? Tell me he’s a stripper!”

Mortification poured through her. “He is not a stripper, he’s a coworker and you’re drunk. Stop it!”

“Damn.” Amelia continued to eye him up and down. “You could be a stripper if you wanted to.”

Drake grinned at her. “Thanks.”

Riley took her sister firmly by the arm and pulled her away from him. “You’re engaged! Leave him alone!”

Something in Riley’s tone filtered through Amelia’s alcohol-induced fog. Her gaze shifted from Drake to take in her sibling’s expression. “Sorry, didn’t realize this is the one you liked.”

Drake’s eyes snapped to Riley’s face. “Wait. What?”

“Don’t listen to her. She’s drunk! I should get her back to her party, then up to our room.”

“Okay.” He watched as Riley drug Amelia back toward the VIP area. “Hey, Riley?”

She turned her head. “Yeah?”

“Happy New Year.”

That smile that took his breath away broke out across her face. “Happy New Year, Drake. See you at work.”

“Yep.” He turned on his heel with a smile of his own as he murmured to himself, “I’m counting on it.”

#cordonianroyalairlines #trr au #drake walker #the royal romance #drake x mc #choicesholidays #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #new year

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jessaerys · 7 months

Note

Opinions on DirkRose?

so when i was 16-18 in high school i was briefly in this very tightknit three person online friend group with me + this extremely popular homestuck artist at the time + their best friend that i quickly developed a crush on. and this online friend roleplayed dirk at the same time i was roleplaying rose (a rose from the same timeline as whom is probably the most famous dave strider roleplayer in the history of homestuck rp. but that nuclear fallout is a story for another day) in the wild wild west that was the 2012 homestuck rp landscape on tumblr (aka the multiple timelines theory)(at some point my rose was involved with, like, a marius pontmercy. yes from les mis. and also a genderbent rose in an ambiguous almost selfcest situationship.)

anyway so i asked her if she wanted to ship our rp characters which was very "baby's first time asking for what they want" of me, and she said yes, and dirk and rose wrote each other a couple of inter-dimensional letters that were quite beautiful and poignant at least in my memory. the vibe was "very traumatized young adults find an equally jaded and verbose kindred spirit and they tentatively show each other the vulnerable side that they can't show anyone else through the safe distance of penpalship" so of course the rp brain chemicals were INTENSE (by the way the three of us were in a slightly larger skype group chat with a couple of other tumblr friends, whom ocassionally would make "you and alex should date lol!" jokes. my fragile teenage psyche was convinced it was going to happen)

but anyway the writing was super slow and i knew that this friend was much more into dirkjake (and VERY hung up on our other friend/her best friend) but whenever i could hold her attention she seemed to be interested in our writing

her dirk had a poetry sideblog (i want to say cringe in retrospect but honestly. at the time i thought it was some elevated literary use of the medium. and it probably was) and i would check it CONSTANTLY trying to decipher if anything new dirk posted was about my rose, but the posts were too vague for solid conclusions

anyway long story short for what was probably somewhere between months and a year (can't recall) i lived in that rp brain chemical addiction thrill-of-the-chase hell state surviving on kernels of character interactions and fantasies about dirk and rose, like i'm talking emotional-support OTP levels of emotional investment. the daily emotional rollercoaster was insane. it would make or break my day depending on what vague poetry dirk strider posted

until ONE DAY.... I FOUND OUT.... she had been rping dirkjake with our OTHER friend/her best friend for a while AND JUST DIDN'T TELL ME. BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T WANT TO UPSET ME. I WAS HEARTBROKEN (these weren't multishipping type blogs. you had one character timeline and by god you stuck to it)

i legitimately do not recall what i did re: the dirk ordeal, but i do remember that at some point (the timeline in relation to the rp drama is long lost to the sands of time) i confessed and she rejected me and i felt soooo led on which was probably a product of this friend being so conflict averse. i was in a crying or close-to-tears state for about a day and a half which i recall very vividly because at the time it was by FAR the biggest social heartbreak of my life. a solid 36 hours of "i'm going to feel like this FOREVER and my heart will never HEAL" teenage angst. i remember it so viscerally lol. especially because my parents straight up didn't notice. but that's an entirely different can of baggage

anyway eventually i met my then-girlfriend and the three person friend group drifted apart. much later i found out they had felt soooo betrayed but what was i supposed to do. third wheel them as the least important person in the group forever??? i think at some point the three of us hung out together for an afternoon when we happened to be in the same city but it must have been completely unremarkable because i don't remember any of it.

anyway what was the question again. yeah dirkrose is fine

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thislovintime · 11 months

Photo

Photo by Henry Diltz.

“‘The fan is great. Note I’m not saying the fans, because each Monkee fan is an individual and deserves to be treated in this way.’ There’s no denying that Monkee fans as a group respond to Peter’s personality and sincerity. Last summer on tour, it was always Peter who was standing hours on end to sign autographs, or Peter who was taking the time to discuss ideas with the many fans he met on tour. He doesn’t hesitate to tell fans what he thinks. If they’re misbehaving or disorderly, he tells them to shape up and have some courtesy. He’s not afraid of losing fans by being honest.” - Monkee Spectacular, June 1968

"Peter turned to look at me (probably due to the desperation in my voice), and when I gave him a handmade book of poetry I’d written, asked me what it was, was pleased it was for him, and smiled. And bless my brother’s heart, he immortalized the moment with his Polaroid Swinger. [...] [Seeing them in concert again during the 20th anniversary tour] Charla looked glazed, close to tears, and I — armed with my son’s Fisher-Price binoculars — never took my eyes off Peter. […] Since July 1, I’ve had a lot of fun watching reruns and singing full-blast to those tapes I made. And looking through that box of memorabilia, I’ve been gratified to discover that Charla and I and our other (unnamed) best friend were smart, creative and funny, as well as innocent. But mainly I’ve felt amazed again and again that in 1967 (at the apex of Monkee mania) Peter Tork took the time to treat my little book with sensitivity and respect." - Kay Betts, LA Weekly, September 11, 1986 (x)

“Last week we went to Peter’s house to meet him. He had some friends over, but he came out and talked to us. He looked so groovy, and he was twice as friendly and nice as we’d ever expected! He talked with us, took pictures, and signed autographs. We’ll never forget that day, and we just want to thank Peter for making that day the most wonderful in our whole lives! L.E. and S.M. Los Angeles, Calif.” - Monkee Spectacular, March 1968 (x)

“It was 3:00 [at the RCA studio] when Peter showed up and brightened everyone’s tired faces and spirits. It’s sure hard work to have to stand from ten in the morning until three in the afternoon and still look fresh and cheerful. But, when I gave Peter his presents of a gyroscope top, Mad paperback, paddle-set, and poem made to order about him alone, he smiled and looked so touched that every minute of waiting seemed all worthwhile.” - Lori Lee, KRLA’s The Beat, May 20, 1967 (x)

"A young girl in a blue bathing suit nervously stepped forward requesting an autograph. Peter signed: ‘Love, Peter Tork’ and drew a flower. ‘I dig flowers,’ he said. ‘I always put a flower after my autograph, because it’s more gentle that way.'" - The Des Moines Register, August 7, 1967 (x)

"My last sight of him was a smiling figure signing autographs for fans in the rain, each one with a ‘Love from Peter Tork’ and a flower." - June Southworth, Fabulous 208, January 17, 1968 (x)

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bluedalliances · 1 year

Text

Or read it on ao3, that's cool too <3

When it becomes evident that the end of the world won’t be a one night event, but a slow burn catastrophe, domesticity starts sneaking back into everyone’s lives. At first is subtle, someone sleeps in one morning, the older teenagers open a few beers under the sun, and Max’s laugh, loud as always, can be heard from the street. They need the small things, silly little pleasures that keep them from going absolutely insane while they wait for hell’s next move.

In those moments, Will realizes, the headquarters (Steve’s place) feel like an actual home for everyone.

His mom and Mrs. Henderson start knitting together on the couch. They say it’s because they’re going to need extra blankets if the situation extends into winter, but they spend most of the time talking and trying to teach anyone vaguely interested how to use the needles.

Soon after, Max decides it’s the perfect time to show more stuff to El, and Dustin jumps into it immediately. He picks a corner in the living room and makes a small but extremely organized archive with all their comics, books, movies, and tapes.

Even if everyone is leaving their favorite things there, Will is afraid there will be no place for his interests. After moving to California, he had gotten more and more into world building and fantasy, writing and illustrating all the campaigns he once would have shared with his friends. However, last time he saw any of them, they had been less than interested in games, monsters, or stories. And sure, they had been playing at Hellfire all year, but he still can't shake the memory of Mike’s bored rolls and Lucas’s amused look, like he was trying to indulge a child with his silly games even if he wanted to make fun of him, or the way they would cut every session short, never getting to finish their last campaign.

In the end, it’s Gareth who gives him the push he needed. One afternoon, the boy knocks at his bedroom door, looking nervous and rambling about how he thought maybe Will would like to put his D&D books next to his and Eddie’s ones, but of course he doesn't have to, it was just an idea because everyone said Will was a great DM and filled his books with notes and that sounds really cool, you know? They end up talking for hours while they go through whatever the others left and add Will's stuff to it.

It's an odd collection, and now there’s always someone showing something to El or fighting to be the one who does, but also going through the homemade library themselves, listening or talking about their own interests, as they realize they can share everything they love with the others. They even bring the older ones as “guests” to talk about different things. Jonathan and Eddie introduce them to punk, metal, and poetry, Nancy brings her scrapbook of “inspiring women of history”, Steve shows them his favorite romcoms and explains which things actually happen in real life and which ones they should never put up with, Argyle and Gareth go on a long discussion about the merits of Latin American music and their favorite protest songwriters, and Robin explains the use of idioms and sarcasm. At first, they extend the invitation to everyone, but have to put a quick stop to it when Joyce tries to give them the most awkward attempt of a bees and birds talk. Later that night, Will tells her that Steve made sure they knew everything they needed to a while ago, and immediately makes her swear to never do something like that again.

As the sight of small groups gathering in the living room becomes an everyday thing, Steve picks up baking again. That one involves a short talk between Hopper and Owens, where Jim ever so subtly informs him that while his kids might have lost everything, they will not be losing the joy of their hobbies, specially if they involve chocolate. After that, there’s always a “Steve” package in their government-provided supply boxes, and the house starts smelling like cinnamon and lemons all the time. Everyone loves it, especially Eddie. It doesn't matter how early you wake up, you can find him in the same spot on the counter every morning, holding a cup of coffee and smiling in silence as Steve makes breakfast for everyone.

The last thing to come is Eddie’s campaign.

What he planned to be a simple one shot to entertain everyone on a rainy day, quickly turned into a six-week adventure that now is close to its end. They finally found the BBEG, an undead wizard that’s behind decades of hardships in the reign, and are close to defeating them, but also close to death. Lucas is down, Dustin and Mike are paralyzed, and even if Will hasn't rolled below 17 all night and Erica’s Barbarian is a force to behold, they are in trouble. Gareth has been getting shitty rolls all night, and he’s the only one left before it’s the Lich’s turn. If he fails, Eddie will attack Will, it’s the logical thing to do, and facing such a dangerous monster without a cleric would inevitably end up in TPK.

“Let's face it, I can't do it, we’re all gonna die,” says Gareth as he buries his face under his hands.

Will pats him on the shoulder and tries to ignore the tingling that spreads from his fingertips when they graze on skin over the neckline of Gareth’s shirt. “We’re not gonna die, you got this,” he goes for a smile, but is pretty sure it comes out all wrong and stiff.

Gareth meets his eyes, barely leaving his hiding place, but before he can do anything else Mike interrupts.

“No, he’s right, we’re gonna die.”

Everyone turns to glare at him. There have been long talks lately about the way things are said within The Party and how they can be hurtful.

“What?” Mike looks around the table, suddenly defensive. “The highest he rolled today is an eleven! It’s okay, it happens to everyone from time to time, I’m not trying to be an asshole here.”

Gareth sighs, and Will is pretty sure he’s ripping out his own hair with the way he’s pulling at it.

“He’s right, guys. I guess I really upset the Fates this time.” Even if it starts in an overdramatic tone, playful and filled with the group's usual drama, he suddenly sits straight and turns to Eddie. “Do you think it’s because I didn’t let that Demodog eat Biscuit? Maybe his life was supposed to end that day and now they'll punish me for ruining their plans.”

He’s so serious about it that Will can't stop the laugh that escapes him, and a second later everyone follows. Even Steve, watching next to Max from the couch, lets out an amused snort. Leave it to Gareth to make a world out of a few unlucky rolls.

“Don't laugh, this is serious!” By now, Gareth actually heard himself and is fighting to keep a straight face. In his last attempt to keep himself from laughing, he goes back to his theatrics, whining and pouting. “Will, you’ve been doing great today, tell the Fates I’m a nice guy, share your luck with me.”

“You want guidance? Can I guide him for this?”

He’s looking at Eddie now, but two answers come at once, one from the DM, the other one by his side.

“This is not an ability check.”

“Sure, give me a good luck kiss.”

Even if he says it lightly, Will turns to him so fast, a twinge of pain runs up his neck. Silence falls around the table and he can feel everyone’s eyes on them. Gareth looks shocked by his own words as his face fills with red, and Will would find it cute if he wasn’t so sure he looked the same.

“You know what? I'm feeling generous.” Eddie’s stunned expression turns into a gleeful grin. Mischief takes over his eyes, and Will realizes this is the mean DM everyone talks about. The sight quickly finds its way to his top five most scary experiences and, considering their history, that's not a small achievement. “I’ll allow it as a blessing, if you actually kiss Gareth”.

As soon as he says it, hell breaks loose around them. Everyone wants to have a say in this.

Will should’ve expected that. During their first session, he discovered that, with Eddie, role-playing beats every rule in the book. Truthful to his theater kid nature, he’ll allow anything if it makes the game exciting. And exciting it is, if the fluttering of Will’s heart is something to go by.

As everyone laughs and yells and argues around them, he looks at Gareth and finds him already staring.

“You don’t have to”, the older boy says. “Eddie doesn't realize he makes people uncomfortable sometimes, but he won't press if you say no.”

Will thinks about it for a second. He could say no, and no one would give him shit for it, but he needs to know. Even if it’s not the time and everyone’s looking, even if he’s scared to death, he needs to know if he needs to rip these fluttering feelings apart before they grow too big and dangerous.

Is this a rosebush or a baobab?, he wants to ask.

But thoughts need translation sometimes, so he says, “Would it make you uncomfortable?”

“Kissing you?”

As Will nods, he sees Gareth’s eyes falling to his lips and back to his eyes. A small smile is taking over his face, hesitatingly, and Will’s not nervous anymore. He knows that smile, it’s the same one he sees before Gareth hands him a cup of tea and the last of Steve’s cookies, as he asks him about his campaign ideas or listens to his honestly annoying rant about the pros and cons of choosing the Moon Circle as a Druid.

It’s a familiar smile, kind and welcoming.

He’s already getting closer when Gareth finally says, “never”.

At some point, everyone went silent again and now they’re waiting for a show.

“Whenever I look at you, I see the fire of your bloodline, Gareth the Great.” Will cups Gareth's cheek and leans in until their noses are touching. He doesn't make his character’s voice this time. He wants Gareth to know this is all him. “When you speak, I feel the warmth that runs through your veins, and when you stand by my side, I feel invincible. I believe in your power,” his last words are said against Gareth's lips, barely above a whisper for him to breathe in, “give him hell.”

And just like that, he does it. It’s a soft kiss, gentle and sweet, filled with untold feelings, but there’s no doubt to it, Gareth is kissing back.

“I feel very lucky right now, Will the Wise.”

As they pull apart, the world regains its shape and Will can almost hear his friends’ surprise. El is slapping Max’s arm in excitement as they giggle, and Eddie gives a smug smile to Steve. Will would see it if he had half a mind to stop looking at Gareth.

Gareth, who’s smiling and reaching for his dice without taking his eyes away from Will either.

“I cast fifth level fireball.”

Only then, he turns back to the table and rolls both dice, his own and the one given by a kiss.

The rattling against the table seems to go forever, but Will can't tear his eyes from Gareth’s face to see what’s going on. He knows it’s good when the other boy turns to him with the brightest smile he’s ever seen.

“Natural twenty, for a total of twenty-seven with Will's dice”, he announces. Everyone roars again, and the air feels alive with their excitement.

“That’d be a crit hit,” says Eddie with a proud smile, the mean DM facade falling in pieces. “Add six D6 for me.”

That’s so many dices that Gareth has to borrow a few from Will and Dustin to do it in one go.

“Ohgodohgodohgod,” says Gareth as he counts, “that’s— 68 fire damage.”

Shocked voices take over the room and Holly mother of a Demogorgon gets mixed with fuck, fuck, Gareth that’s insane and that must’ve been a really good kiss.

“Children, children. Be silent for a minute.” Eddie stands up from his place at the head of the table and looks straight at Gareth, putting an immediate stop to the noise.

“I regret to inform you, Gareth the Great,” he says before a long pause that has everyone holding their breaths and at the edge of their seats, “that you’ll have to use that one brain cell of yours and tell me how you want to end this motherfucker.”

A grin spreads across Eddies face as the gleeful screaming comes back.

Gareth stands up and starts acting his character’s moves, one hand extended in front of this body. “You all see sparks surge from my face. They start right under Will’s fingers and travel down to my arm and hand, where a small spark of fire forms. It gets bigger as it travels through the air and you can see it's purple, just as Will's clothes. It fills the far side of the room, engulfing the Lith and turning him into ashes.”

“As the Lith turns into ashes”, Eddie takes over, “you, Gareth, hear his voice in your head. He promises to come back, to end you and your party, to make you regret ever crossing his way. But right now the fight is over, you can heal your companions and take a good night's rest. Is there anything you want to do before we wrap up for today?”

“I'm going to hug Gareth and whisper, ‘you made it’,” says Will.

“Only because of you.”

They're staring at eachother again, and Will realizes that, just for a moment, he feels no fear.

“Okay, love birds,” interrupts Erica in her character’s voice. “Let's heal mister can’t-do-anything-without-fainting and get out of here, I need a drink.”

Everyone laughs at that as Lucas complains. They still have to find the Lich’s phylactery and find out what waits for them in this adventure, but that’s a story for another day.

#greatwise #gareth the great #will the wise #they play dnd and are dorks #but they won't look at each other later #nerd smoothness only lasts as long as the game does

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