#my classes this year aren’t really more close knit either so I don’t really feel like I have a good likelihood of making friends there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jungshookz · 3 years

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smitten: y/n's note is in jungkook's bag and she needs to get it back like, right now

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook & smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boo hoo angsty wattpad-energy fic of your dreams!! unrequited love!! it hurts so bad but that's what makes it so good!!

➺ wordcount; 7.1k

➺ summary; y/n realizes her meticulously written i love you note is burning a hole at the bottom of jungkook's bag and the mere thought of him finding it is enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

➺ what to expect; "well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that."

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

[previously, on smitten...]

what?

where the hell is it?

you reach into the side pockets and you're disappointed when you end up pulling out old tissues and empty gum wrappers

it's not in the front pocket either — just your keys, a pack of bubblegum, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer

your brows knit together in deep thought as you settle back against your seat, your eyes flickering to the side as you-

you immediately pale

oh my god.

you're positive that your heart stops beating for three whole seconds the moment you realize where exactly the note is — because no, you idiot, you didn't shove it into your own bag earlier-

the note is in jungkook's bag.

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

the next thirty or so minutes of class seem to drag on at a snail's pace and you find yourself checking the time on your phone every five seconds to see when you can finally dart out those doors

your first instinct was to immediately get up and leave because of course you wanted to immediately get up and leave, but with only twenty-ish people in the class and the fact that you're seated near the front... well, it would be a little awkward to just pack up your things and trek up towards the doors without a legitimate excuse (you were tempted to tell your professor that your stomach wasn't feeling very good but the thought of your peers associating you with explosive diarrhea quickly changed your mind)

so, you decided to be a good student and wait it out — but, being perfectly honest, you haven't really been paying much attention to the professor since the thought of you shoving your hi bestie, i'm head-over-heels in love with you note into jungkook's bag instead of yours contaminated your mind five minutes ago

...

you let out a little huff before shaking your head to yourself

how could you be so careless?!

you don't even know how it happened

your bag was sitting on your right thigh, jungkook's bag was sitting on your left thigh... so how the hell did you manage to shove it into his bag??

on the bright side, at least you know where it is, right?

it's in the right side pocket of the bag, so all you have to do is unzip it and stick your hand in and out really quickly without jungkook noticing you rummaging around in his belongings

...but what if he's already read the note?

your foot taps impatiently against the carpeted ground and you reach up and start tugging at your earlobe anxiously, your eyes flickering up towards the dusty analog clock hanging on the wall

c'mon... c'mon...

your grip tightens around your pencil as you continue to trace circles aimlessly on the page, the paper crinkling slightly from the amount of pressure you're putting on it

the stress that's currently eating away at you is probably going to take ten years off your life

"-so, that's pretty much it from me for the day!"

you don't think you've ever been so happy for a class to end as soon as the screen goes black at the front and you waste absolutely no time in packing up

you probably look insane trying to shove your laptop and your notebook into your bag at the same time but you couldn't care less at this point because you need to get the hell out of here

"-please remember to contribute to the discussion threads online... at least four responses, please, and none of those bullshit 'yes, i agree!' responses. i'm definitely not going to count those as participation marks-"

you close your bag with a sharp ziiiip! and you hurry to fold the squeaky desk back into place, a couple of people turning to glance at you for the sudden abundance of clattering and knocking coming from your direction

"excuse me, pardon me-" you pull your backpack on as you step over multiple sets of legs, trying your best not to trample on any feet or knock anyone's tooth out with your bag, "sorry! excuse me-"

you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you jog up the steps two at a time, your brain immediately mapping out the route to the library jungkook said he'd be at

best case scenario: he hasn't found the note and your friendship with him is still very much in tact

worst case scenario: he found the note and is currently reading it at this point in time and your friendship with him is starting to crumble but you still have a chance to swoop in and pick up the pieces

the absolutely worst case ever in the entire world scenario: he's found the note, he's read the note, he's processed the note, and your friendship with him has been completely annihilated and now he's planning to change his name and leave the country so that he doesn't have to confront you about it

you use your shoulder to shove the doors open before bursting out into the open air, ignoring the concerned glances you're starting to receive from your obviously frazzled state

"oh god, oh god, oh god-!" your backpack flops wildly against your back as you rush down the narrow brick steps leading towards the main boulevard

realistically, jungkook's probably found and read the note, so all you have to do is come up with a short monologue about how all of it was fake and that the note was just a sick, twisted prank of some kind

i know that the note makes it seem like i'm telling you that i'm in love with you, but that's not the truth at all!

"woah, watch it-!"

you accidentally knock into someone's shoulder while sprinting down the lane and you turn around for a second just to hold a hand out while flashing the stranger a sheepish smile

"sorry! so sorry-" you turn back around, reaching up to keep your glasses secured on the top of your head as you continue to sprint, your sneakers slapping down against the pavement

as you read in the note, i made a point about how since we're friends, we should be honest with each other... and honestly, there are nothing but lies in the note! and there's a lesson in that, you know? words can be full of lies but we, as human beings, should be full of truths-

"nope, hate that-" you shake your head and immediately scrunch up that mental piece of paper before tossing it into your brain's garbage bin

you'd sound like an obnoxious philosophy student if you hit him with that explanation

it was a prank! i want to start a prank war with you and this is how i'm kicking things off!

that... that could work, right?

that's not bad!

just tell him that you wanted to start a prank war with him so you decided to go big or go home with an i love you, best friend note to see how he would react!

"so stupid-" you mutter to yourself, slowing down to a jog as you approach the doors to the library, "so, so stupid-"

the Super Epic Prank War ROFL XD™ explanation isn't the greatest excuse but it's the best you can do on such short notice

thankfully, it doesn't take you very long to track down jungkook considering the fact he always sits in the same area every time the two of you come here

your feet come to a screeching halt the moment you spot him and you quickly step to the side to hide behind the wall

you slowly lean over a little to peek at him

he has his headphones on and he's busy typing away at his laptop and you can tell he's concentrating really hard because he has that cute frown on his face and occasionally he'll mutter something to himself

jungkook in intense focus mode is something you find to be very endearing :-)

...

you quickly shake your head to snap yourself out of your daze before focusing on jungkook's face again

he certainly doesn't look like he just read an explosive love letter...

you could still be safe!

...for now, that is.

"okay, y/n-" you stand up straight and let out a breath, giving yourself a mental pat on the head in an effort to calm your nerves, "better sooner than later, right? just- you just have to rip it off like a bandaid-"

your anxiety seems to build with every step that brings you closer to jungkook and you can almost hear the jaws theme song playing all around you

da-dum

jungkook, i swear i have a perfectly logical explanation for this...

da-dum

i know the note does a very convincing job of making it seem like i'm in love with you, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

da-dum, da-dum

consider this your initiation into our very serious prank war, my friend!

dadumdadumdumdumbdumbdumbthisissuchadumbdumbidea-

"hi!" you greet a little too enthusiastically, trying your best not to make it seem like you just sprinted across campus to get to him even though you very clearly did

"sorry, seat's reserv- y/n?" jungkook looks up from his laptop before frowning, quickly glancing back down at his screen to check the time as he pulls his headphones off to hang around his neck, "aren't you- didn't your class end, like, literally a minute ago? why are you so- did you run here??" he asks incredulously, getting up from his seat as his brows knit together in concern

"no, no! of course i didn't run here, silly- oh, god, give me a sec-" you wheeze, bending down and gripping onto the back of the wooden chair in front of you as you try to catch your breath, your chest still falling and rising at a concerning pace from the physical stress of sprinting and the mental stress of the current situation, "it was more of a- of a brisk walk, if you think about it- jesus, i think i'm gonna throw up-"

"okay, you need to drink some water- come and sit next to me-" jungkook reaches out to help lead you around the table towards him, "god, i don't know why you thought you had to run over, it's not like i was planning on going anywhere-"

"i'm fine, kook, it's fine-"

"you're, like, literally radiating heat," jungkook turns you around and pulls your bag off your back before pulling out a chair and helping you into it, "and your face is all red!" he frowns, setting your bag down on the table and unzipping it to pull out your water bottle

"my face is always this red!" you force out a casual laugh, waving your hand to dismiss him as you lean back against the seat, "i'm fine, it's fine-"

"shut up and take a sip-" jungkook untwists the cap of your water bottle before shoving it into your hands and gently lifting it up towards your mouth, his head tilting up a little so he can check and see if you're actually drinking anything, "c'mon, hydrate yourself-"

you swallow a couple gulps of water before pulling the bottle away and reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "god, i love water-"

"yeah, i bet." jungkook chuckles, visibly more relieved now that he knows you won't be passing out from exhaustion anytime soon

as you put your water bottle away, your eyes lower towards jungkook's backpack slouching against the leg of his chair and almost immediately the anxiety that you thought you'd just swallowed down bubbles right back up

"so, are you going to tell me why you're acting like the cops are after you?" jungkook jokes, taking his seat before pulling his headphones off and setting them down next to his laptop

"i just, um-" you press your lips together as you slowly start to lean down, stretching your arm out towards the pocket, "i just wanted to see you, buddy!"

"i don't believe that for a second." jungkook snorts, turning to look at you

you shoot straight back up and pull your arm up and behind your head as if you're in the middle of a good stretch, "hey, what's with that tone? it's not a crime for me to want to see you-"

"you saw me at lunch! and that was only like an hour and a half ago-" jungkook turns his head to look back at his screen and you quickly revert back to your mission impossible secret agent mode

the forced smile drops from your face and you lean back down, your fingers blindly feeling for the cool metal of the zipper

"you know, you actually came at just the right time-" jungkook speaks up again and you pause just in case you need to pull away from his bag, but he makes no move to turn and look at you, "ji-eun was about to leave for her class but now you can meet her before she goes off!"

"uh-huh..." your tongue pokes out in concentration as you unzip the pocket in one swift movement, immediately sticking your hand in and feeling around for the balled-up piece of paper, "sounds gre-"

hold on, what did he just say?

you shoot back up

"did you just-" you choke and reach up to pat your chest gently, "i'm sorry, did you just say that ji-eun was here?"

"uh-huh!" jungkook nods, "i didn't know she had a spare at the same time as i did so i was surprised when she came over to say hi- it turns out our schedules are, like, sort of similar which oddly makes me kind of happy-"

it's at that moment that you notice the cherry-patterned tote bag slumped in the chair sitting across from you and you let out a nervous chuckle as you shift in your seat, "great! great, that's so- great, it's great that i'm meeting ji-eun today, out of all days..." you trail off, glancing around warily as you try to come up with some kind of an exit strategy

you're just really not in the mood to meet the love of jungkook's life today

you've already been hit with so many blows and it's only two in the afternoon-

"sorry that took so long! i couldn't find a bin but i bumped into my friends and they said they'd throw it out for me-"

oh, you have got to be kidding me.

your eyes widen in mild panic upon immediately recognizing ji-eun to be the girl who had overheard your entire monologue in the bathroom earlier today — and from the way her eyes flicker, it seems as though she remembers exactly who you are as well

"oh, no worries!" jungkook beams at ji-eun before pointing to you with his thumb, "this is my friend, by the way. the one i was talking about earlier! y/n, this is ji-eun."

you stay quiet as you continue staring up at ji-eun, your mind racing a mile a minute as you consider your current options

you can pretend like you've never met her before or you can make things awkward by telling jungkook that you met her today after she'd emptied her bladder

"...y/n?" jungkook lowers his voice, nudging you with his elbow before letting out a nervous chuckle, "please say something."

"i- yes, hello!" you blurt out, the feet of your chair scraping against the rough carpet as you get up from your seat to stick your hand out towards ji-eun, "it's- ah- it's- it's so nice to meet you! i'm y/n."

ji-eun stays quiet for a second before her lips turn up in a polite smile and she reaches towards you, gently taking your outstretched hand in hers (for the record, her hands are shockingly soft and supple), "it's lovely to meet you... as well, y/n. i love your glasses!"

you can't help but notice the immediate warmth that seems to surround ji-eun and suddenly it makes a lot more sense as to why jungkook's attracted to her

you're about as comforting as stepping into a puddle of water while wearing socks

you feel a slight sense of relief seeing that ji-eun is playing along but your new concern is whether or not she's connected the dots that your monologue in the bathroom was dedicated to jungkook

you didn't actually say his name when you were talking out loud, so you might be able to get away with this...

"oh, these old things?" you reach up to feel the glasses sitting on top of your head before flicking your hand at her, "i bought them on amazon. they're blue-light glasses- i can totally send you the link if you want."

"that would actually be great!" she gasps, nodding enthusiastically, "i desperately need a pair of blue-light glasses- seriously, i stared at my laptop screen for, like, ten hours straight today and i really feel like they're about to roll out of my head-"

"oh my god, don't even get me started. at this point it'd probably feel better to rip them right out of their sockets-"

"ji-eun, you ready?"

"let's gooo, i wanna get an iced coffee before we head off to class."

you and ji-eun don't get a chance to continue bonding over the pain of sore eyes when you're suddenly interrupted by two new voices

you look up to see two guys approaching the table and you subtly push your seat back a bit as you prepare yourself to say hello again

"oh! yeah, i'm ready, sorry-" ji-eun gestures towards you with a smile, "this is- this is jungkook's friend, by the way. y/n, these are my friends."

"hi, hello-" you get up from your seat again to stick your hand out, offering the two (very handsome, might you add) strangers a friendly smile, "i'm y/n, jungkook's friend- but you- you already knew that because that's what ji-eun just said-"

"i'm taehyung! you can call me tae-" the corners of taehyung's mouth immediately raise in a bright grin and he gives your hand a firm shake before nodding next to him, "and this is jimin!"

"hi..." you trail off, turning to give jimin a handshake as well, "so nice to meet you!"

"oh, i just- i actually just washed my hands, so-" jimin chuckles, looking down at your hand before taking a small step back, "but it's nice to meet you... jungkook's friend."

ooh

is it just you or did it suddenly get a little icy in here?

"oh, no problem! um, yeah, you too." you pull your hand back before swallowing nervously and forcing the polite smile back on your face, "i like your jacket, by the way! it looks really cool."

maybe it's because he's wearing giant sunglasses indoors but you can't help but feel slightly intimidated by jimin

you can't see his eyes but you can certainly feel them on you and you're definitely getting the vibe that jimin is already not the biggest fan of you for some weird reason

"thank you." he responds curtly, smoothing a hand over the leather before looking down at ji-eun, "so can we go now?"

"mhm!" ji-eun gets up from her chair before pushing it back into place, pulling her tote back up onto her shoulder before flashing a sweet smile at jungkook, "see you later, alligator."

"in a while, crocodile!" jungkook responds enthusiastically, watching with twinkly eyes as she turns and heads off towards the exit with jimin and taehyung glued at either side of her

god

she even walks prettily

and you were literally clomping down the boulevard like a feral caveman a second ago

you wait until they've disappeared to turn and face jungkook with a raised eyebrow, "...jimin was kind of a bitch."

"hey, play nice!" jungkook frowns, reaching over to give your arm a gentle whack, "he's a fashion major! ji-eun says being snooty is part of the degree requirements-" he grins, shaking his head slightly before leaning back against his chair, "she's, like, super funny."

"mm." you hum, still feeling a little uneasy about your interaction with jimin

you just hate it when first meetings don't go well and that first meeting definitely wasn't super great

but it wasn't like you did anything wrong, right?

you were great!

snooty jimin was the one who was being rude

whatever

hopefully you won't have to hang out with him too often if jungkook and ji-eun become an item

maybe you can just stick with taehyung!

he seems to be a lot friendlier

"oh, by the way, i-" you're suddenly reminded of your main mission and you turn to point down at jungkook's bag, "it's not a big deal, but i- i accidentally shoved something in your bag earlier and- could i just get it back from you?"

"you did?" jungkook frowns, leaning down to pick his bag up before unzipping it all the way and pulling both flaps open, "what was it?"

"it was- uh- just some notes on a scrap piece of paper!" you immediately feel the weight lift from your shoulders at jungkook's cluelessness to the situation, "i put it in the right side pocket-"

"wait, are you talking about, like, a balled up thing of paper?" jungkook pauses before looking up at you with wide eyes, "oh, shit- was it important??"

"um, i wouldn't call it important-" you snort, shaking your head, "is it not there? i swore it was in the right side pocket-"

"no, no, it was there! it was there, i just- ji-eun needed to spit her gum out and i thought it was one of my scrap pieces of paper-" jungkook winces, grabbing his phone and unlocking it with fumbling fingers, "i'm so sorry, y/n- let me text ji-eun and ask her which garbage can she threw it into and i can go dig it out-"

"no, no, it's okay!" you nearly let out a screech of delight knowing that your note now has a slobbery wad of gum in it and is living at the bottom of a trash can, "it's fine, i just- they were just boring notes for something. i just wanted to see if i had really shoved it into your bag or not."

"oh, okay-" jungkook's shoulders immediately slump and he sets his phone down on the table, "you're sure it wasn't important?"

"100%." you hold both hands out with a chuckle, "i needed to throw it out anyway so i guess ji-eun actually did me a favour-"

"okay, phew." jungkook sighs, zipping his bag back up and plopping it back down on the ground next to his feet, "anyways- i'm actually glad you're here because now you can help me plan out my date! i was working on it but then ji-eun came and obviously i couldn't have that google doc open in front of her-" he turns his laptop to show you all of his hard work with a grin, "check it out! i have a list of things i need to buy, i have outfit ideas, i even went on pinterest for inspiration-"

"wow, kook-" your eyes bulge out for a second at the sight of the extensive and shockingly organized google doc before you reach over to pull his laptop closer towards you, "i... i really don't think i've ever seen you... even make a google doc before-"

he even has the sunset time written down for the date

why would he need to know what time the sun is setting??

"i have everything planned for next week." jungkook pulls his laptop back to him as you settle back against your seat, "i already emailed my landlord to ask if i would even be allowed to hang out on the rooftop and he said it would be fine! he also reminded me to keep a brick wedged between the door so that i don't lock us up on the rooftop-"

"so you're definitely going with the rooftop picnic, then?"

"oh, i'm actually changing it to a rooftop dinner instead of a picnic." jungkook shakes his head before giving you a half-hearted shrug, "i think a picnic is cute but i really wanna try to impress her, y'know? i ordered this thing on amazon just now- basically, it's a medium-sized inflatable bubble tent! the description says it's perfect for two people and- i'm gonna, like-" he pauses and looks away from his screen towards you with a smile, "well, you know, i'm gonna do what you said and i'm gonna stuff it full of blankets and pillows and... hopefully i can string up fairy lights and stuff on the inside... so that after the date we can go in there and just talk and not have to worry about getting attacked by mosquitos!"

"wow, that's-" you cross your arms over your chest before leaning back and looking up towards the ceiling, "huh. that's actually a cute idea, kook. i wouldn't have been able to come up with something like that. i didn't even know transparent tents existed."

"i know." jungkook gives you a smug little smile before bursting into a grin, "but yeah, that's it! all we have to do is go and pick up all the supplies and stuff."

"we?" you frown, looking back down at jungkook, "i... wasn't aware i was part of this plan..."

"what? of course you are!" jungkook snorts, looking at you as if a third eye just sprouted from your forehead, "obviously you have to help me-"

"well, i just don't know if that's-" you chuckle uneasily as you rub the back of your neck, "i really- i don't wanna get in your way, you know? maybe you should- maybe you should just take care of all of this yourself! i mean, you basically planned everything already-"

"what? but- but you're my-" jungkook deflates and you instantly feel bad upon seeing his eyes suddenly turn sad, "okay..."

you press your lips together and wait for him to say something else but the next few seconds are filled with nothing but awkward silence and the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights hanging above you

you'd jump off a cliff if jungkook asked you to but helping him prepare and set up his date is something that you,.., definitely would not enjoy.,.,

but then again, this isn't about you, is it?

this is about jungkook, your friend, and he needs your help to set up this very important date that-

oh, damnit.

"i'm-" you clear your throat as you sit up in your seat, reaching over to give jungkook's hand a pat, "no, of course i'll help, kook. i just thought that- well, this date seems so important to you that i thought you wanted to take care of all the details yourself!"

the bright smile immediately returns to jungkook's face and you resist the urge to call him out on so blatantly guilt-tripping you like that-

"yes! you're the best!"

"i know."

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

although you and jungkook are practically inseparable on campus (and some would say it might be healthy for the two of you to give each other a little bit of space) — you don't think you'll ever say no to hanging out with him downtown

of course, hanging out with jungkook downtown would be a lot more fun if it weren't for the fact that the two of you have basically spent the entire day shopping for all the things he needs for his date

and if it weren't for the fact that he paid for lunch and treated you to a cake pop and a venti-sized iced coffee, you would probably be livid about having to carry everything for him because you really feel like your arms are about to pop right off in about two seconds

fancy cutlery, porcelain plates, fluffy throw pillows, a giant blanket, fairy lights... at this point he might as well buy an entire house for ji-eun

and look, you know you probably sound bitter and that-should-be-me about this whole situation, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

it's just that listening to someone you like gushing about the person that they like for an entire day while you're carrying bags full of things for their date can get a little mentally and physically exhausting so if you're grouchy right now it's really not your fault

"i think we might have to call an uber back to your place, jungkook-" you mutter, adjusting the hefty tote bag over your shoulder with a grunt as you trail behind him on the sidewalk, "bringing all of this on the bus is going to piss people off-"

you stumble over your feet a little when the bag in your right hand knocks into a garbage can and you curse to yourself while resisting the urge to kick the damn thing over

"okay, grumpy, we'll call an uber home-" jungkook spins around with a smile before raising the notepad in his hand and tapping against it with his pen, "i just have one more thing i have to take care of and then we can go!"

"okay, well-" you set the bags down onto the ground with a fwump! before rubbing your sore palms together, "what else do you have to get?"

jungkook offered to help carry a couple of things but you insisted that you'd take it all and that he should just focus on ticking off all of the items on his list

you wince at the sight of the pinkish-red imprints now embedded into your palms from the straps of the bags

obviously you've now come to regret your generous offer

"flowers!" jungkook chirps, using his pen to point to the flower shop a couple of shops down, "i have to greet ji-eun with a bouquet of flowers as pretty as she is-"

"yeah, i understand-" you adjust the two bags on both shoulders before bending down to pick up the other two on the ground, "also, i'm not a genius or anything but i'm pretty sure the flowers aren't going to survive until the date if you buy them now-"

"duh, obviously not- i'm going to place an order now and then pick them up on the day of the date!" jungkook tsks, waiting for you to join his side before he begins walking towards the flower shop, "thanks for doing all of this for me, by the way. you really are the best." he hums, hurrying over to open the door for you

"i... yeah, of course, kook." you feel yourself soften slightly as soon as you see the sweet little smile on his face and you quickly scold yourself in your head for being so curt with him all day, "that's what friends are for, right?"

"mhm!" jungkook slaps his hands down on your shoulders from behind before giving them a squeeze, "and i am so letting you choose whatever you want for dinner tonight-"

"hello!"

"oh, jesus-" you and jungkook are immediately greeted by an overenthusiastic employee as soon as you step into the shop and you honestly probably would've knocked him out with one of your shopping bags if they weren't so heavy-

"are you two looking for anything in particular?" he smiles kindly before gesturing towards the large selection of flowers all around you, "we have flowers of all kinds! roses, tulips, lilies- i can even show you flowers from our new tropical selection-"

"actually-" jungkook nudges you aside before glancing down at the employee's nametag, "seokjin, i'd like to place an order for a custom bouquet, if that's okay."

"ah, a custom bouquet!" seokjin claps his hands and rubs them together enticingly, "what are you celebrating? i need to know so that i can help pick out the perfect flowers for your bouquet."

"well, i don't know if it's a celebration-" jungkook chuckles, his cheeks pinking slightly as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, "it's for a first date."

"a first date!!" seokjin gasps excitedly before turning his head to look at you, "you must be so-"

"-oh, not for me!" you let out a laugh before shaking your head quickly, "it's- it's definitely not for me. i'm just here to provide moral support and-" you lift one of the bags to show him, "muscular support."

"ah, i see... okay, well- why don't i take you around and introduce you to the different candidates you could consider for your bouquet?" seokjin turns back to look at jungkook, "each flower you choose will be very important in showing your future lover how much you care about them-" he pauses when he notices you hovering behind jungkook and he leans over a little with a bright smile, "why don't you go and wait by the front counter, darling? you can put everything down there and take a little break. there's some cucumber water and fresh puff pastry apple roses up at the front if you're interested!"

"well, i can't say no to free food." you snort, nodding before turning to head towards the front counter, "i'll just wait for you over there, then..."

you nearly let out a moan of relief as soon as you set all the bags down and you twist your upper body to the right and to the left until you feel the a satisfying pop! of your spine cracking back in place

your body was not made to carry heavy things

in fact, you'd like to argue that your body was made to lie down and do nothing

you take a seat on the wooden stool before turning to look at the apple roses sitting prettily in the display case and you almost feel like you shouldn't touch them even though seokjin offered them to you

even the pitcher of cucumber water looks too nice to touch

this place is awfully fancy

you didn't even know flower shops could be this fancy

you prop both elbows up on the counter before leaning back comfortably, your eyes lazily scanning around the store

"$15 for a single rose?" you gawk at the little wooden sign poking out from a large bouquet of neatly wrapped long-stem roses before making a face, "god."

you can't even imagine how much a custom bouquet is going to cost if a single rose is fifteen bucks

"-also write a note for you and attach it to the bouquet, if you're interested in that. it'll be an additional five dollars, but we handwrite it on the highest quality card stock with the most beautiful calligraphy and we even spray it with perfume-"

you perk up when you hear seokjin's voice and you look to see him and jungkook coming over to you

you have to admit that seokjin is great at his job because he's doing a good job at milking every dollar out of jungkook-

"yeah, that would be great!" jungkook nods enthusiastically, pulling his backpack off before unzipping it to grab his wallet, "i think a small note might be cute-"

"oh, that reminds me!" seokjin stops in his tracks right as he's about to lift the wooden slab to get behind the counter, "would you be interested in purchasing a teddy bear as well? if you add a teddy bear to your order, i'll give you a slight discount on the flowers."

"ooh, a discount!" jungkook gasps and you turn your head slightly so seokjin won't see you rolling your eyes at how much he's forcing jungkook to buy

you respect the hustle but this is too much

"where are the teddy bears?"

"right by the flowers!" seokjin smiles, wrapping an arm around jungkook's shoulders and spinning him around, "we can round back and take a look-"

"okay, i think i have to cut in here-" you chuckle, reaching out and grabbing the back of jungkook's elbow, "you don't- you don't think a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear is a little too much for a first date?" you clear your throat quietly before offering a shrug, "i feel like that's just... a lot, kook. i mean, i would be overwhelmed if-"

"well, i guess it's a good thing i'm not taking you out on a date then, right?" jungkook teases, wiggling his arm out of your grip before turning back to look at seokjin, "onward to the bears, my good man!"

ouch

"yeah." you can't help but frown as jungkook and seokjin head back towards the flowers, "thanks for the reminder."

"that's gotta hurt."

"god-" you jump at the sudden appearance of an employee standing behind the counter and you place a hand over your chest before letting out a breath, "you scared me!"

"sorry." he shrugs, "we polished the floors this morning so my shoes are making, like, no noise."

"oh."

a moment of silence passes while you turn to face away from him again, but all of a sudden-

"so he really can't tell that you like him, huh?"

"you-" you immediately straighten up and your head spins around so fast that you're surprised you didn't complete decapitate yourself, "excuse me??"

"what? it's obvious." the employee snorts, spraying cleaner onto the counter before reaching up to yank the tattered rag off his shoulder, "it's painfully obvious, actually-"

you can feel your entire face starting to go red as this complete stranger continues to rip you a new one and you hold a hand out to shut him up, "no offense, but i-i don't think this is any of your business, sir-"

"it's yoongi." yoongi looks down at his apron for a second before frowning, "huh. i forgot to put my dumb name tag on again-"

"well, yoongi-" you place emphasis on his name in an effort to intimidate him and make him go away, "you don't know what you're talking about and i suggest you mind your own business-"

"you should tell him before it's too late." yoongi doesn't seem to be all that affected by your biting tone and you roll your eyes at the way he rounds back to the topic

"what are you even talking about?"

"well, i assume you're going to be his best man at his wedding. from the way it's looking, you're certainly not going to be the bride," yoongi purses his lips as he folds up the rag into a neat little square, "you don't wanna wait until you're fixing his tie at the wedding to tell him that you love him."

"what makes you think i lo-" you cut yourself off quickly before that word slips out of your mouth, "like him?"

"if you didn't, you wouldn't be here right now." yoongi points out with a tilt of his head, "and from how smudgy your eyeliner is, it looks like you've been working hard all day."

your jaw drops slightly and you can't help but scoff

the nerve of this guy!

"who do you think you are?!"

"i'm yoongi." yoongi raises a brow, "i told you that like a second ago- wow, you are not a good listener-"

"do you usually do this with all of the customers who come here?" you interrupt, crossing your arms defensively before leaning in slightly, "you're awfully nosy-"

"i only do this with the ones that seem to have something juicy going on." yoongi hums, leaning down to put the spray bottle of cleaner under the counter, "this is a flower shop. the most exciting part of my day is watching a bumblebee choose which flower to land on."

"well, nothing juicy is going on here so-" you twist back around before sticking your nose up in the air slightly, "sorry to disappoint."

"alright, fair enough." yoongi nods to himself, letting out a sigh as he slowly backs away from the counter, "i guess i'll just leave you to... wallow in self-pity... and continue staring at your friend with cartoon hearts floating around your head-"

"'you should tell him before it's too late-'" you swivel around and slap both your palms down on the counter, "why would you- why would even say something like that?! i can't tell him. are you insane?!"

a smirk twitches at the corner of yoongi's mouth at your sudden confession and he lets out a sigh before stepping back up towards you, "and why can't you tell him?"

"because- i just can't! he's-" you clear your throat before leaning in and lowering your voice, "he's literally taking someone else out on a date- we're here to buy flowers for his date-"

"so what?" yoongi interrupts, "it's just a date. it's not like you're stopping his wedding."

"so what? because he doesn't like me back, so what's the point?" you hiss, resisting the urge to reach over and smack some common sense into this very nosy and very stubborn stranger, "this isn't a romantic comedy- and even if it was, i'm very obviously not the main character-"

"you don't know that he doesn't like you back."

...

well now he's just toying with you

"i... i can't tell if you're kidding or not-"

"do i look like i'm kidding?" yoongi asks, pointing to his poker face before shaking his head, "you don't know that he doesn't like you back. you've obviously never asked him."

"oh, please." you scoff, turning around to lean back against the counter again, "trust me, i know it."

"well, did he ever explicitly say that he didn't like you?" yoongi leans over to peek at jungkook over your shoulder, "do you have a definitive answer to this particular question?"

"no, but he doesn't have to... we're just friends." you frown, your eyes wandering over to the back of jungkook's head, "he doesn't like me. i know he doesn't. we're just friends."

we're just friends.

(saying it out loud is a lot more depressing than you thought it'd be.)

"well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that," yoongi suggests, your head tilting to the side slightly as you force yourself to consider his surprisingly wise words, "it's obvious that you have a solid friendship so it would suck if a relationship ruined that- so maybe he does like you and is only asking someone else out to try to force himself not to like you..."

you feel your heart skip a beat when jungkook turns to glance at you over his shoulder with a soft smile while seokjin continues rattling off about the vast choice of teddy bears available for purchase

you bite back a giggle when he mouths a desperate 'help' at you before raising his hand and twirling his finger next to his head to tell you that seokjin is fully crazy

"...so i guess what i'm trying to say is that you're never really going to know how he feels about you if you don't ask him," you tune back in to the end of yoongi's little speech and you turn your head slightly to glance back at him, "but what do i know, right? i just polish counters at high-end flower shops."

🎙️tell jungkook he's being an idiot or tell y/n to get a backbone (send in an ask!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series like smitten!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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jiminrings · 3 years

Note

OKAY LISTEN idk if someone or you already planned sth like this but how about y/n finally decides to confess/tell jk but someone else claims to be her before she could do it so * cue to the angst bc y/n sees the whole thing/she hears from her friends * and ofc koo eventually finds out bc that b*tch doesn't even have the fucking lunchboxes 😑

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

stem koo's the three-peat king for having the best research papers, but he's the worst when it comes to believing the right person

"i think i'm gonna tell him."

you say it to no one in particular, really, but you hear yoongi rISING from his nap on the couch

it wasn't meant to wake him at all

it was just an epiphany of sorts that popped into your head

physically felt as if your head would just bursT if you didn't say it out loud to affirm your own thoughts lmao

"for real???" he's rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, very evident that he wouldn't wake up to finish his thirteen pending assignments but he 10/10 would wake up to hear your epiphany

yoongi is awake for the action!!!! lmao does professor roux from calculus think that he wakes up at the morning and doing shapes (or whatever they teach at calc) is the fIRST thing in his mind????

"interesting," he nods solemnly when you nod your head, reaching out for a fist bump before he plops to your shoulder, "i suggest dressing like a virgin wearing H&M when you confess. it would hit close to home."

yoongi's the touchy affectionate one between the two of you but you'll forgive him bc he's still sleepy

NOOOOOOO

jungkook doesn't look like a virgin wearing H&M :((((

his clothes aren't from there lol

"pass."

"say that you're a top verified contributor both in quora and brainly."

PLEAAAAAASE SJWHSHWHHWV

"nice idea," you snort as yoongs genuinely thinks that it'd get jungkook to propose on the spot, "but no cigar."

"pretend to love big bang theory."

"you're getting onto something here."

"your hobby is fact-checking rick and morty."

"yoongi wow you are on fIRE today-"

"your guilty pleasure is not wearing protective gear during experiments."

"where is this coming from??"

"OH!!!! i'll pretend to mug him or something and you can attack me!!!"

....

??????

yeah yoongi's train of thought just crashed

you were pretty sure he was going on a science theme there wHY DID IT DERAIL

yoongi looks confused because you look confused, as if he didn't just give you the mindblowing idea,, free of charge

lol but no he really didn't

"i'm not doing any of that shit, yoongs."

"oh yeah???" he squints at you and hollows his cheeks, taunting you entertainingly while he worms his way to your lap to nap again

"what are you planning to do?"

holy sHIT this is nerve-wracking

she feels like she's gonna pass out the whole time that she's been rehearsing this in her head

she's been waiting outside the classroom for twenty minutes now and the bell finally rang and she can't believe it!!!! omg is it game-time now

everyone's filing out of the room and she could just feel that jungkook would come out of the room last-

ALRIGHT FUCK THE BELL RANG

you could do this!!!!

everyone's filing out of the room and you know in your heart that jungkook would stay behind, his routine being to politely chat with the professor before he leaves

you're a lil nervous alright

you're scanning the room and there's only a few people left and your eyes instinctively go to the mini desk next to the door and-

FUCK

DID YOU FORGET TO BRING IT HOME YESTERDAY??????

goddamn it

yesterday was when coach jeong was mad because someone from your team just hAD to bring beer!!! and not even have the common sense to put it on a discreet thermos or sth and you know!!!! to not drink it in public or in front of the coach!!!!

doing laps on the oval field will now make you hurl on command just by thinking about it

you physically did not have the cognizance to go and fetch the lunchbox to wash it,,,, or like even move at all

FUCK IT

how are you gonna swipe the lunchbox now? now when the professor's packing up, jungkook's loitering around the classroom, and there's this girl who's-

wait

who's this girl??

who is she and wHY IS SHE EYEING THE LUNCHBOX

fuck it!!! here goes nothing

she's stepping completely into the room and making sure her block heels generate enough clacking,, hands already moving in practiced moments as she attempts in making it seem like she's rushedly putting the lunchbox bag into her tote — as if it's from there, and she's always done this

jungkook hears noises coming from the back of the room, eyes widening before he comes up the stairs in record time

"no. get your own."

he grips the girl's wrist, about to pry off her hands from his lunchbox

he hears her giggle sweetly, the melody being something he's heard before

"i did. after all, i did get you these."

"hyeji?"

hyeji's a pretty girl!!! a nice girl in jungkook's year that wears fit dresses and cartier bangles :D

she stands out really, sometimes literally because she appears in the school's flyers and advertisements

"hyeji," jungkook breathlessly connects the dots including the fact that she looks caught in the act; holding his lunchbox, her tote bag open, and a peek of another completely different lunchbox in her other hand, "i-it's been you this whole time?"

hyeji blushes, sheepishly tucking her perfectly shiny and neat hair behind her ears, "you caught me then."

kook laughs both in nervousness and giddiness, pushing his glasses up and suddenly conscious that he should've worn contacts, "b-but how? we don't share this class."

hyeji bursts into a giggle, blushed cheeks staining further than the five minutes she tried getting the perfect amount

"r-right! kinda amazing what depths you'd go for a person you like, hm?"

jungkook is about to pass out

HE'S PUT IN A SITUATION

a situation that he likes and is too giddy to find a reply for

he apparently doesn't need a reply, because a chair scrapes harshly against the floor and it brings him down to reality immediately

you cannot fucking believe what you just witnessed

you stand abruptly from the seat you've been frozen in with a great deal of urgency because you cAN'T stand to be in this room any longer

they actually forgot that the two of them aren't alone

that you're still here

little miss hyeji's just as shocked

you feel stupid and even more stupid that you're still holding a stupid notebook you even decorated

it has a doodle in the front and all the remaining pages are of the copies you've replicated on jungkook's sticky notes — the same ones you've been trying to make perfect just for him

"y/n!" he sputters when your backpack accidentally leans too much to your side and hits him on the way out

"move."

you’re feeling everything but fine and god you just hated that you always willed yourself to move oN

you’re beyond mad when you put on your jersey!!!

you’re irrevocably dejected when you put on your cleats!!!!

you feel cheated on when you zip up your duffel and walk all the way to the field!!!

it’s a combination of the type of frustration that makes you want to move plus the type that paralyzes you, the whole thing unlike anything you’ve ever felt before

you’re clearly in your head and frankly, you’re just too good

too good that there's no game at all because the only thing happening is you scoring

there's no passing going on or the sort

everyone is just :O looking at their captain to be in the most furiously determined state that they’ve ever seen you in

you don’t even realize that you’re the oNLY one moving in the whole field

“alright, alright — jesus christ! go to the bench and sort your head out, captain,” coach jeong literally has to JOG over to your spot to jolt you

oh there he is again

jaehyun just had to bench you didn’t he

sometimes it’s lost on you that jaehyun, just like seokjin, used to be your senior

he hated juniors with a burning passion and you’re the ONLY one he’s taken a tolerance for

((you lent him your umbrella and it coincidentially had to be a bad day for him tHEN that made him like you))

you’re having none of it though because this time, you’re the one who has the bad day and the captain title does nothing to appease you

“sure, coach.”

you mumble just as lively and walk to completely the fURTHEST side of the bleachers, being so far out that you could barely see your team

what are you supposed to do? simmer in the thoughts you so badly didn’t want to have in silence??????

"y/n?"

the voice you least expected to hear perks up right next to you

what the hell is jungkook doing here now??

he looks lost, two hands clinging onto his backpack straps before tentatively looking at you again

“did i do anything to upset you?”

so he wants to ask that?

you snort automatically, suddenly wishing that you didn’t walk this far because you can’t make an excuse that jaehyun’s calling for you

"because my bag accidentally hit you on the way out? no, jungkook."

jungkook knits his brows in question, seemingly take offense to what you’ve just said to hom

"we're not exactly associated for me to be mad at you, are we?" you emphasize even further, not caring the least bit that your words have an edge to them

he deadpans, pursing his lips before sarcastically smiling at you

".... so you're upset at me?"

://

jungkook takes your silence for him to delve further, not paying attention to how your eye is begging to twitch at him

"i asked if i did anything to upset you, and you said no. but that doesn't necessarily mean you aren't. you could be upset at me even if i didn't do anything to you."

wow

you sound like a real fucking nerd jungkook

"do you have any idea how condescending you sound right now?"

kook barely has a solid inch on you yet the nagging feeling that he’s belittling you makes you grip your fists tight, posture wavering

"so you do admit that you're upset at me?"

he’s not the most patient person either but something about you and the situation right now just makes him tick a little faster

your eyes narrow at what he’s aiming to get at, your hand on your hip feeling heavy at this point

"what does it matter to you if i'm upset or not? we are not-"

"i am associated to you!!! even to a degree!!! you walked me home!"

jungkook is the one who breaks first and he doesn’t look fazed to have opposed you so loudly, still standing by himself

"i would walk anyone home."

"no you wouldn't-"

"i would walk anyone who was as vulnerable and as anxious as you were, jungkook!!"

it is true

you’d walk anyone home within reason regardless if they were jungkook or not!!!

the guy in question only looks at you straightly, brows not stubborn but still just as unrelaxed

:((

"good to know. then you're not upset at me, and i didn't do anything to upset you."

"sure."

you only say just to spite him, about to turn your back and leave him completely to go back to your practice game

jungkook surprises you again and flips a switch just as quick as your mini argument of sorts escalated

"anyways!! i'm sorry for being a little off when i interviewed you that day. i got a 100 on that assignment, by the way :))"

what?

what’s he still doing here?

he’s talking about his grades and whatnot to you as if literally twenty seconds ago did nOT happen!!

"why are you still-"

"and the one who's been giving me my lunchboxes confessed to me today!! for hyeji to be the girl giving me them, it makes perfect sense."

you shrug away the weirdness that jungkook’s moved on from the argument as fast as this, trying a take two for a peaceful conversation

this time, you’re the one who unknowingly flips a switch at her name — something so foreign and sudden yet something you quickly grew to hate

"i wouldn't be so trusting if i were you."

that seems to hit a nerve on him again, making him scoff in reply

"good thing you aren't me then."

what is ON with him????

"watch it. i'm your senior, kid."

you’re more irritated than the first and second time around that you’ve been agitated this day

"why? are you normally this self-absorbed that you wouldn't trust a girl who's confessed??"

self-absorbed?

you aren’t the most selfless person ever but god do you know for a fact that you’re not vain as jungkook’s insisting you to be

you hate him.

you hate this version of him that isn’t the same jungkook you’ve known to like ever since the start of the semester

"same thing as polygraphs not being a hundred percent reliable. anyone could tell the truth as long as you ask the wrong questions," you detail on further because jungkook loves details, right? might as well give him several

"or did you even ask?"

jungkook scowls as if you’ve insulted his mother and his entire lineage, face contorting into everything but warm

"what does it matter to you? didn't you just tell me that we aren't associated? why are you projecting all your moaning on hyeji?"

WHAT

WHAT????

"you know what? maybe i am associated to you. i think i'd also tell this to everyone i'd walk home — maybe you shouldn't be too trusting, huh? maybe you shouldn't just let anyone walk you home."

the tears this time are more insistent to come out this time but you’d rather dIE than for jungkook to stain your pride like this

"no one should walk me home, besides you? is that what you're trying to say?"

no!!

for fuck's sake you aren't even finished with your point!!

before you could continue, jungkook shakes his head at you — the most disappointing shake of his head that it curses you soft

"what am i even doing? you wouldn't understand."

he closes the distance that’s been alarmingly shorter throughout the whole time, jungkook being the one to break it

"because no one gives you lunchboxes. no one exerts effort in making you cheerful — no one wants to go the extra mile for you, and no one wants to walk you home."

he's insulting you right to your face and that’s when your dam breaks, lips quivering impossibly as you stare him down with a genuinely pained gaze you didn’t know you carried

"you wouldn't know what i feel, because no one likes you."

jungkook gets the last word in.

he leaves you in the same field he's first approached you in nervousness.

today, he leaves it differently.

sweat isn't the only thing on your face but instead it’s the frustrating hot tears you haven’t had in awhile

your fists are balled but there's no power to the anger behind it

you’re almost always alone outside the company of the closest friends you’ve ever had — but this is the only time that you truly felt that you are alone.

today's a good day to give up on jungkook.

#WHAT DO WE THINK BESTIES!!!!!! alr this was the confrontation piece with all that build-up :D the pain #stem koo #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook drabble #jungkook drabbles #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine

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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Like The Stars Hold The Moon

Written By : @katnissmellarkkkk

Prompt 59 : "Katniss dad is a victor, he won his hunger games and is a mentor. Peeta is reaped for the games and Katniss begs her dad to help him win the games. [submitted by anonymous]“

Hi! It feels like there’s so much I need to say here and I can’t remember any of it now! This is obviously–if you read the summary, which I assume you did and that’s why you’re here hahaha–an EFE prompt. It was submitted by an anonymous person, so I don’t know specifically if this is what you wanted but I really hope this is good enough that you’ll be fulfilled?

I don’t think there is much more to say? I hope everyone who reads this has a good day! I wrote plenty of this on Easter so I’d like to thank Jesus for rising again. And I feel like the prompt alone is a sufficient summary but just so you know, this heavily features Katniss, Peeta (obvi), Haymitch and Katniss’ father, Hunter (I named him, that’s not canon, I know).

This fic I likely going to be a three-shot with an opportunity for a sequel three-shot. Oh and also, thank you to the anon who sent the prompt!

Oh and this got really long, so I’m just going to submit the first part on here and then I’ll add a link at the bottom to continue reading on AO3. I’ve never done this before so I don’t know if I’m doing it right?

Okay, if you read all my talking, bye now!

Rated T for the canon violence.

At the reaping for the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games, Matty Knick drew out the names of a ”very special boy“ and ”a very special girl“ from the reaping bowls. She read them off in a bright voice and matched the sentiment with an out of place perky smile. The girl’s name was Heather Branch.

And the boy’s was Hunter Everdeen.

Of course, everyone knows the story of Hunter Everdeen.

Year of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games.

"So Hunter,” Caesar Flickerman leans toward the victor, absolutely electrified, and says, “tell us, tell us. How excited are you for the games this year?”

The camera focuses in on gray eyes, the color of a storm cloud or a cleanly polished knife. Dangerous and hard and cunning.

Or protective and frightful and angry.

Or warm and loving and kind.

“I’m about as excited as I always am, Caesar,” he shoots back, not a trace of even so much as a smirk on his face. Not even so much as a lift from the corner of his mouth.

And still, the crowd of Capitol idiots burst out in laughter, as if they just heard the funniest joke in the world, as if this was Hunter’s desired response to the words.

As if the conversation wasn’t about teenagers—and some as young as twelve—killing other teenagers.

“And what about you, Haymitch?” Caesar asks next, segueing from one aggravated man to another.

“I’m looking forward to the free drinks,” Haymitch says while tipping back dark gold colored liquid into his mouth. Almost as an afterthought, he gestures wide and sloppy to the crowd, igniting cacophonous sounds from the population once more. “And of course, the social interaction with all you lovely people.”

No one in the audience recognizes the insult. No one understands the blatant sarcasm at their expense.

Here in District Twelve though, we do. As exemplified by Peeta’s laugh, vibrating against my back. “Shh,” I hush, laser focused on the enormous television screen before us.

“Daddy’s not speaking anymore,” Prim reminds me from the other room, where she’s currently flipping through a magazine our father sent.

“Well, be quiet before he does,” I snap, elbowing Peeta when he rolls his eyes now. “Stop it, I haven’t seen him in weeks,” I complain, fixing him with a fierce glare.

“I know,” he murmurs agreeably, gently kissing my temple. “But he’ll be home in a few days.”

As if they could hear our exchange from inside the television box, Caesar turns his attention back to my father. “Hunter, how excited are you to get home to District Twelve?”

At that, his eyes genuinely light up with ferocity. “I’m counting the minutes,” he replies, but still manages to keep his tone cool. He adamantly refuses to give away his true emotion to even a single soul in the Capitol. It’s his way of withholding power from their greedy, glitter covered hands.

But I see the change in him. Prim, from her position against the doorframe, sees it. I’m positive my mother, who’s watching with our brother from the comfort of our house sees it as well.

Our father’s eyes are now alive again, the permanent frown his mouth resides in on every televised appearance loosens a bit, his brows aren’t knit so closely together any longer.

Caesar Flickerman sees the change too evidently.

“Look at those silver coins!” He bellows, gesturing for the cameras to put my father in a close up now. “They just lit up like the stars when talking about home. Tell me, Hunter Everdeen, how’s the family back in District Twelve?”

At that, my father makes a considerable effort to transform his entire expression into a mask of indifference. “They’re good,” he states evenly, his tone clipped. Making it blatant to even the airheaded Capitol citizens that he refuses to speak publicly about his family.

“Because you’re not property of the Capitol, baby,” he told me once, while on a walk in the woods. “You’re not anyone’s property.”

“What about you and mommy?”

“You’re our responsibility, but not our property.” He’d knelt down to my height, which happened to be the shortest in my second grade class. “Property implies ownership, Katniss. And no one owns you. No one owns you or your sister. Remember that for me. And never let yourself forget it.”

“You’re daughters are both old enough for the reaping, am I right?” Caesar presses further, and my sister and I automatically sigh. Knowing the response that’s bound to come.

“What’s wrong?” Peeta asks, as he still remains completely clueless. I shake my head instead of offering an explanation though, leaning further into his chest.

Peeta won’t understand. He was raised in town by merchants—the owners of the bakery, to be specific. He’s never understood the fierce protectiveness, the instantaneous fury, the irrational tunnel vision, that appears when a victor’s child is mentioned entering the games.

Peeta’s never even met my father. I’m not impatient by any stretch of the imagination to put the two of them in the same room, to watch my father chew my boyfriend up and devour him alive, to abide by his rules and regulations that will surely come with dating.

He doesn’t know Peeta and I have even so much as shaken hands. I’ve never so much as left him even the slightest hint. Not even when I’ve accompanied him to the bakery for the occasional trade with Peeta’s father, the baker himself.

Like both Prim and I predicted, our father is now on edge, his breathing uneven and his nostrils flaring. “Yes. Both my girls are of age,” he says after a long beat, his tone hard and jagged.

Caesar though is either oblivious or is extraordinarily practiced at appearing obtuse. “Well, wouldn’t it be something if either of them were chosen for the games? Am I right?” He directs his questions to the audience. “Don’t we all love a family story?” His words elicit cheers and hollers and a murderous glint in my father’s silver eyes. The camera only catches it for a moment’s time before quickly flitting away, towards the much more enjoyable image of the Captiolites chattering like chipmunks at the very idea.

And suddenly I feel Peeta’s arm tighten around me, the vision of me—the only person in the world he’s certain that he loves—being taken away from our home here in Twelve and tossed into an arena with kids twice her size, too much for even his naïve mind.

“Don’t we all believe in Mr. Everdeen,” the talk show host continues to push and I feel my typical annoyance with the odd man bleed into anger. “I mean, he brought home Mr. Abernathy here.” And with one single hand gesture from Caesar, the entire interview’s focus re-centers on Haymitch.

And unlike my father, he doesn’t even miss a beat before replying.

“Barely,” he mutters with a last swig of his drink, cleaning the glass. “And he was stingy with the gifts.”

Next to him, my father relaxes a bit. Haymitch always brings out a bit of levity in him, even on his worst days.

After all, in my father’s eyes, the paunchy drunk is a symbol of hope.

Haymitch is the only person my father’s ever brought him. He’s the only other living victor inside the confines of Twelve.

Not to mention his closest friend.

And my surrogate uncle, I note, a bit ironically. Haymitch and I have a far different relationship than he has with anyone else in my family but he’s always been there, has known me since the day I was born, often has dinner at our house, rain or shine, no matter how much he annoys my mother, and he’s an irreplaceable member of my family.

The audience is still riled up from Haymitch and howling with laughter—a bit too much, in my opinion—but my father can’t let the subject of his children go before adding one last sentiment.

“Don’t worry, Caesar. If either of my girls are reaped, trust me,” he states, louder and far more pronounced than anything else he’s said the entire interview. “They will be the victor. There’s not a tribute in the arena that would survive against my girl.”

For as long as I can remember, my father had taken me to the woods. He sometimes claims the first time he looked down at me in my mother’s arms, at a mere two days old, he saw a familiar hunger in my eyes.

Not a hunger for food. District Twelve is the smallest and the poorest in the country of Panem, but luckily, my family is one of the richest.

Unlike my schoolmates, I’ve never once had to worry about having enough to eat for lunch. My parents never worried that we’d starve to death or that Prim and I could be taken from their grasp by authorities. They never worried about supplying us with whatever we needed—they gave us more than we ever could have wanted—and they never had to fret that we’d be sent to the mines for work one day.

No, we were far too wealthy and far too famous for any of that.

But my parents had a far different batch of worries to keep them up at night. Not about food or finances or anything remotely common in Twelve.

No, they had to worry about cameras peaking into the privacy of our home and photos being taken without our knowledge and my face or Prim’s face being splashed across every magazine and newspaper in the country.

They worried about the almost insatiable thirst the Capitol seems to have for more family dynamics among the victors.

Especially after the recent back-to-back sibling victories led the hunger games to higher ratings and revenues in the Capitol.

When I was a child, my mother coached me to never go into town without my father by my side. Which sounds easy enough, until my father’s extensive vacations to the Capitol are taken into consideration. For as long as I can remember, my father would leave at random stretches of time, for weeks on end. To go play puppet for a population so dumb, so completely isolated from the rest of the country, that they took his anger for sarcasm. They took his bite as charm. They believed his glare was an act, was part of his appeal, when in reality my father had rebelled against performing for the last twenty-seven years.

When he was gone, our lives became strict. Bedtimes came earlier, curtains remained drawn day in and day out, our mother never wanted to sing or dance or even so much as smile with her husband gone.

But when he was home, sunshine peaked in our windows again. It danced on the floor and it swept us away with its gentle affection.

There was music and laughter and sweets and toys. He never returned from the Capitol empty-handed. He brought back expensive jewels for our mother, he built me and Prim a fancy treehouse in the backyard, put up a large, golden swing-set, went as far as purchasing as many cakes and breads as he could hold from the Mellark Bakery.

Peeta’s parents bakery.

Since I was two, further back than I can even retain, my father would take me out to the woods, would hold my hand and tell me old stories of District Twelve’s past, detail insane urban legends, teach me about plants and berries and trees and the direction of the wind.

And for as long as I can remember, I idolized him. He was so confident and so charismatic and so kind. For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be exactly like him when I grew up. It felt like an honor to me that I received far more his end of the gene line than my mother’s. She was regarded as a beauty in her youth, but he was one of the most magnificent people in the country. Having his coloring and the same silver eyes felt like a special gift, awarded every single time someone marveled at how similar we appear.

But my father was gone often and the unpredictable lengths of his stays in the large, foreign city was one of the only constants my family ever knew. So it really came as no surprise when my mother phoned the cabin only minutes after Caesar’s interview was over.

“I’ll get it,” Prim says flatly after a moment, throwing a sardonic glance at me and Peeta on the couch. Now in a much different entanglement than we had been while watching the talk-show.

“Thanks,” I murmur unintelligibly against Peeta’s mouth, before closing my eyes in pleasure.

“Don’t strain yourselves,” she can’t stop herself from tacking on the end.

“We’ll try not to while you’re still here,” Peeta murmurs cheekily, moving his lips downwards, towards my neck, right onto my pulse point. I let out a somewhat ridiculous squeak in response.

“Hello?” Prim says lightly into the receiver, already knowing it’s our mother. No one else calls this phone, inside this hidden cabin, located in the woods surrounding Twelve.

The woods in which officials fenced off years ago. The woods in which it’s illegal to enter. The woods in which my father has taken me to hunt for families less fortunate than ours since I was a small infant.

It’s not a typical cabin found in the outskirts of Twelve. No, ordinarily a cabin out here—a cabin anywhere in Panem, really—is nothing more than a broken down shack. There’s normally nothing other than an unsteady foundation, a freezing damp floor and an unlit fireplace.

But somewhere along the lines, in the years before I was born, my parents resurrected this place from the depths of despair and expanded it, rebuilt it, refurnished and redecorated and turned it into a vast, warm, safe second home for all of us to run away to when we felt the need.

Prim listens into the receiver for a long moment before she sighs deeply and beckons me. “Katniss, can you?”

Instantly, I break away from Peeta’s embrace, cupping his face and pulling him back from my collarbone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I scramble off the couch, my anxiety abruptly spiked. “Did something happen?” I search Prim’s eyes as I take the phone from her but, to my utter relief, all I find there is blatant, unmasked disappointment.

I already know what my mother is going to say before I put the phone to my ear. “Hi?”

“Hi, honey,” she murmurs, her voice both strained and higher than typical. Which indicates she’s trying to put up a front for us right now, when she’d rather be moping in bed. “Your father just called. Evidently Effie Trinket informed him he has more scheduled commitments to fulfill before he can come home.”

I deflate, already prepard, knowing this was coming. Isn’t it always coming inadvertently? My father has never been home when he was scheduled to be in my life. No matter the holiday, the birthday, the emergency or event, the Capitol demands that they comes first to him. Not even my birth could upstage his commitments. He wasn’t allowed to return home to Twelve, to meet his firstborn child, until his press events were done and over with.

It’s no wonder he refuses to put on show for those people.

“Okay,” I mumble after a moment, not even convinced my mother is even still there on the other end.

“It’ll be alright,” she says, as positively as she can. “He’ll be home as soon.”

“Yeah.” I try and fail miserably to match her tone. I inherited my father’s ability to act. Or inability, that is.

There’s the faint sound of crying in the background, and my heart aches a bit. “I’m sorry, honey, I have to go check on Archer,” she apologizes as a way of saying goodbye.

I make my way into the kitchen as soon as we hang up. Prim is standing by the counter, staring at the same magazine our father sent three weeks ago.

Peeta comes up behind me then, his hand rubbing my back in comforting circles. “Your father delayed again?”

I nod silently, as my eyes focused on my little sister now. She’s trying her best to hold back the upset that’s threatening to take over.

And without hesitation, my instincts to protect my family from anything and everything painful kick in. “Prim, it’s okay. It’s probably only going to be another week before he’s back,” I console, stepping closer to her small frame and touching her back.

It’s all the initiation she needs before spinning around into my arms and clinging onto me tight. “He’s never around,” she cries into my neck—I’m not much taller than her—as her shoulders shake with tears.

I feel Peeta’s eyes on me, measuring my reaction to Prim’s words. He’s heard me cry the same thing time and time again, he knows the familiarity of this scene better than anyone should.

“He tries his best, Prim,” I whisper thickly into her long, blonde hair. She’s fair and light, like our mother. Like a merchant or peacekeeper. Looking at my little sister, you’d never consider her to be the daughter of a man from the Seam.

But you’d easily believe that she was a girl raised in Victor’s Village and I suppose that’s what counts. Where we were raised and not where we could have been, if things had gone different.

“He’s never really going to be ours though,” she weeps and I don’t have words to comfort her now. Because she’s right.

Our father will always belong to the Capitol, first and foremost.

And not even his children can upstage that.

Prim leaves not long later, to head home to Victor’s Village and more than likely curl up with our mother for the night. They’ve both always been so alike, so much softer and more hopeful than me. I half expect every trip of our father’s to double in time, if not triple. After a lifetime of disappointments, I can’t help but prepare myself.

It’s not that they’re weak for believing. It’s that I have too much Hunter Everdeen in me. I have too much pessimism crawling inside my bones to ever fully trust that he’s really coming home until he’s already stepped off the train in Twelve.

Too many hours of my childhood were spent, wearing fancy stockings and warm, fur-lined coats, standing at the train station, only to welcome a load of cargo and no father in sight. Too many times were phone calls answered in tears. Too many night spent crying, clinging to my father’s hunting jacket, so disoriented by the hazardous schedule in which our lives were ran, waiting for my father to phone, waiting for him to walk through the front door, waiting for him to sneak up on us in the middle of the night or pull us from class on a school day.

That was the true constant in my life. Waiting for my father to finally come home, knowing every moment we shared was on borrowed time. Knowing that he’d never truly belong to us. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to hear my mother’s bedroom door slam and lock, waiting to hear Prim cry or Archer wail, waiting to see that defeated glint in my father’s slate gaze.

I close the cabin door behind my sister now, knowing with confidence that she’ll make it home alright, even with the sun currently setting in the faded blue sky.

Our father never took Prim hunting like he did me, never brought her out to the woods and taught her to shoot a bow and arrow, never showed her how to trap and kill an animal. But even still, the path from the cabin to our home in Victor’s Village is imprinted in our brains, like a birthmark or tattoo. We’d be able to find our way to and from, even if we were sleepwalking.

As would Peeta. Considering this is the place he spends the majority of his time.

Considering this cabin may as well be his permanent address.

And if it weren’t illegal, it very well might be, I think to myself wryly as I walk over to where he’s leaning against the doorframe now.

“Hello,” I greet again, hopping onto my tiptoes and kissing his lips lightly.

He grasps my hips, smiling against my mouth. “Don’t you have to get home too?” He hesitantly asks, his desire to keep me here bleeding through every caress of his fingers, as they trail underneath my loose shirt, sliding upwards and causing an electric current to ripple through the core of my body.

But I just shake my head at his inquiry, moving my mouth from his to kiss down the side of his face, underneath his jawline.

“Mmm,” he moans after a long moment, before suddenly putting a few more inches between us. “Are you sure your mother won’t miss you?”

Peeta’s always been considerate of my mother. Too considerate sometimes, if I do say so myself. Bordering on obsessive.

He is obsessed with keeping her approval, with never crossing any invisible line, with never even so much as mildly exasperating her.

I suppose it’s only natural though. She is the only parental figure he has in his life.

I’ve never been too enthusiastic to introduce him to my father and he’s never pushed the issue too far. Hunter Everdeen is a practical legend around Twelve—and beloved across the entirety of Panem—but he’s the reason, I’ve always privately felt, that I was isolated from all my classmates.

Sure, I’m already not the most friendly person to start with, in anyone’s book. As Haymitch never hesitates to tell me. But there was already very little chance of me making friends in school anyway. Being the victor of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games’ child dropped the chances of play-dates or sleepovers drastically. My father trusts no one. Not with his children.

And I didn’t mind for the most part. I’m too like him to enjoy people much anyway. This whole notion was much harder on Prim, who adored her fellow classmates and easily endeared herself to them as well. But no matter how darling my little sister may be, nothing changed our father’s mind and when he was set on something, it was practically written in stone.

I can’t even imagine how Peeta must feel, having to live in fear for the entire last year of our little secret being exposed. I may be nervous about how my father will react, but Peeta has to be outright petrified.

“My mother will be fine,” I murmur, rolling my eyes as I lean back against the wall now. “She’s got Prim and Archie to keep her sane until my father’s home.”

Peeta chuckles at me, a mirthful smile in his eyes. “And you got me,” he teases, tapping my nose with his finger.

I giggle in a way I withheld until Prim left. I wasn’t about to give her ammunition to mock me later on. “All to myself,” I add, matching his expression now. “For unlimited hours of the day.”

“That’s my girl, looking on the bright side.”

I snort. “Yeah, that’s me.” I’m the exact opposite of an optimist. I prefer expecting the worse and setting expectations low. Maybe it’s a learned behavior but, at least that way, I’m not crushed like my mother when things don’t pan out the way I want.

Peeta mistakes the look on my face to be one of hidden disappointment. “You’re father will be home soon, sweetheart. They can’t keep him in the Capitol forever.”

“Can’t they?” I mumble, not expecting an answer. Before he can offer one—because Peeta is nothing if not a fixer—I quickly segue to a new topic. “Where do you think you’ll go when my father does come home?”

He just shrugs the question off though, completely unbothered. “Anywhere but home,” he says simply, his stunning blue eyes clear as the sky they remind me of.

“Anywhere but there,” I agree, my smile twisting into a grimace.

A year ago, when I was barely fifteen, President Snow—Panem’s true Gamemaker, my father always said—demanded every victor extend their stay in the Capitol, even after the games ended that year. He gave no outright reason and my father was cagey to speak on the subject, but in the end, the president’s word was law and there was no room for argument. President Snow can demand of us whatever he wishes.

It was a cold, dreary autumn that year, with early snowfall, which was the leading cause to the significant increase in accidents and injuries. My mother, the born healer, had more patients than she could handle, and even while training Prim as her assistant, she required my help. I was to head to town and purchase a list of herbs from the apothecary shop her parents still owned. The people who disowned her, who had little to no interest in her after she married a man from the Seam, victor or not. The people who never cared to meet their own grandchildren, to acknowledge our existence even as we passed right by their shop, in their plain sight.

I was dragging my feet the entire walk there, already with a sour taste in my mouth, when I heard the loudest wail my ears had every registered. When I heard sharp words being screamed out, when the sound of a boy sobbing filled the air.

And my instincts took over, my every sense focused on finding the hurt and helping them, altogether forgoing the trip for my mother’s herbs.

I followed the commotion to the bakery’s backdoor. Right through the open threshold, it was crystal clear, the baker’s wife—the witch, as many of the kids at school referred to her—had beaten her youngest son senselessly.

He’s in my year, I’d realized abruptly, staring with an agape mouth at his bloody face. His eye was swelling and his nose and lip were smeared scarlet and the only thing that crossed my mind at first, was I recognized him as the blonde boy with the colorful notebook, who could never meet my eyes and always wore long sleeves.

Of course, I snapped out of the daze after only a moment. The witch turned and caught sight of me, snapping that no Seam brat was going to get any free handouts from her and to scatter before she called the Peacekeepers.

Something about the unmasked prejudice against the Seam, a place where people in Twelve had next to nothing and were seen as lesser than the merchants, jolted me into action.

“Get your hand off him!” I’d demanded, using my entire body weight, just as my father taught me, to push the door open as she tried to close it in my face. “Let him go or I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

At that, I heard an ugly laugh and the door flew open again, my exerted force throwing it back into the wall.

“I’m serious, child,” she snaps, her blue eyes narrow and her mouth in a snide smirk. “I will call the Peacekeepers to remove you from my shop-”

I didn’t even let her finish. I wasn’t one to be messed with. Not when I just witnessed something awful firsthand, not when I had it in my power to do something.

I knew then I couldn’t bring my father home. He was owned by the president and the Capitol. To an extent, we all were. And I knew I couldn’t stop the games from happening or the possibility of my name being pulled from the reaping bowl. I couldn’t always make my mother come out of her room or even out of her bed, when her illness struck bad. And I couldn’t stop my siblings from crying for our father at night.

But I knew that day in the bakery, I had the power over Mrs. Mellark and I wasn’t going to let her get away with hurting her son anymore.

“Call them,” I dared, not an ounce of insecurity in my voice. “Cray is an old family friend.” He was actually indebted to my father, who’d kept the man’s secrets for too many years to count. But family friend rolled off the tongue more effectively.

“Head Peacekeeper is now making friends in the Seam?” She spat in disbelief. “No wonder this district is so rundown.”

She laughed humorlessly, but my focus was pulled towards the boy. He was covering the left side of his face, as if it hurt too badly to release. As if he was trying to stop his eye from swelling, stop his nose from gushing blood. As if he could hold his now split lip together with nothing more than the palm of his hand.

The sight hurt my heart to see. It burned a fire inside of me that only a true injustice could set alight.

“My father is Hunter Everdeen,” I snapped in the woman’s direction, not even basking in satisfaction when her face drained of all color. The idea that a scrappy little girl with olive skin and dark hair was the child of the most powerful man in all of Twelve struck a cord inside even the witch. “Still wanna make that call?”

The woman’s face was caught between anger and shock when I glanced at her again. And I hated her for it. I hated her and every single person in this district who hurt their kids, who took out their grievances on them, who made them cower and quiver in fear. Who raised them to be afraid of those they loved in a world already so awful.

I know I live a privileged life but, deep in my bones, I know even if things were different, my parents wouldn’t have laid a hand on us. Even if we were so poor I had to take tesserae, even if we were starving to the point of no return, even if we were practically homeless in the Seam, my parents would never hurt us.

“Leave,” the witch spoke then, but her voice was void of all emotion.

“Not without him,” I refused, my eyes planted on the wounded boy in front of me. The boy who was doing everything to avoid looking me in the eye, too busy covering his battered face.

I heard a sound caught between a groan and a shriek, before a cutting board was tossed across the room. “Just go!” She shouted at her son, causing him to flinch severely. “Just go with her!”

On her order, which sounded more distraught than angry, the boy had stormed out the back door and into the chilly evening air, still covering his face desperately, still looking utterly ashamed.

But he waited for me to catch up with him. He waited for me to guide him away from that awful woman he was forced to call his mother.

He didn’t flinch when I touched his arm nor when I took his hand. And when I led him away from the town and towards the village, he followed me without complaint.

Actually, he followed me without a single word.

I realized this just as my house came into view. “You never told me your name?” I whispered, looking up at him gently.

He had tears leaking from his eyes that he was doing his best to ignore, the bleeding on the left side of his face had barely even lightened up, his eye was swelling bigger and bigger, and yet, he chuckled a little at the question. “I’ve been in your class since kindergarten, Katniss.”

I felt my cheeks burn pink, even under the darkening sky. “I know.” But I still peered up at him, curiously waiting for him to tell me.

“It’s Peeta,” he finally answered, maybe a bit satirical.

“Peeta Mellark,” I suddenly recognized.

“Mhmm. Figured you’d pick up the last name.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s printed across the bakery in huge letters?”

“Oh.” He chuckled at my ignorance, causing my blush to deepen.

And I realized immediately how much I liked the sound of his laugh. How I liked being the reason for the sound.

My stomach did a complete flip at the notion and my ears abruptly felt hot, but I tried to push all this away, needing to get him to my mother.

“Wait,” he halted before I could even reached the front door. “Is your mother in there?”

I shot him a confused look. “Yeah, of course? Who else-”

I didn’t even get a chance to finish though. “I really don’t want anyone else to know about this,” he pleads, his eyes looking as frightened as they did with the witch.

“Peeta-” I start, opening my mouth argue, to convince him to go into the house and let my mother treat his injuries. To let me get him help.

But one look inside his desolated, defeated, terrified eyes and I couldn’t make myself do it. I couldn’t put him through any more than he’d already gone through. Not when he’d eventually have to go face the witch again at home.

“Okay,” I whispered, and I felt him squeeze the hand I didn’t realize I was still clutching. “Let me take you somewhere else. And I’ll try to fix you up myself.”

I wasn’t a healer like my mother and Prim. I was a hunter, just like my father, just like his very name, through and through. But I had witnessed enough of what my mother did—my father had forced me to witness enough of what she did, in case I ever needed the knowledge—and I was confident I had the expertise to help him.

My decision was validated by the relief in Peeta’s eyes, by the visible exhale he expelled from inside. He was ashamed, I realized, of his abuse. He was embarrassed to let anyone know what was happening behind closed doors.

I guided him by the hand outside the village, through the Seam—a place in which he’d never been before—and to the fence line.

“Isn’t it electrified?” He asked, his grip on my palm tightening. I liked the sensation for some reason. I liked the way his big hand felt wrapped around my small one. I liked how he wanted to hold onto me in the darkness.

“Nope,” I say, and let out a proud giggle. Or maybe a nervous one. Whenever I think back to this night, I can never tell.

“How do you know?” His blonde eyebrows knit together, still afraid in a way I’d never had to be. My father had taught me everything there was to know about the woods from a young age.

“Listen,” I urge softly, leaning my ear towards the fence.

He cranes forward too, waiting for the buzz of electricity to fill his ears. Only, just as I knew, it never does. Because it never has. The fence’s electricity was shut off long before we were even born.

I watched as his face registered the silence, as he realized and trusted I was right. And I beamed at him, before showing him the way my father slips beyond the fence and guiding him through the trees, towards the cabin, buried deep inside the woods.

It took an hour to find, not because of the blackened sky, but because Peeta’s face hurt so badly that his gait was slowed. But I remained patient, even though that was never my strong suit either. I waited for him to pick up the pace, to be ready to move, to find our way through the tall green trees. I pulled all the branches I could see out of his path, used the moon as our flashlight and didn’t complain once when he stumbled along the way.

By the time we got to the cabin, it had to be past Archer’s bedtime. My mother would be worried sick for me, but I soothed myself that she had plenty on her plate. I’m her firstborn. The child she understands the least, the one who’s like her husband in body and soul. I knew I was probably near the bottom of her worry list.

The very first thing I did when we entered the cabin was order Peeta to sit down in the dining room. I gathered my mother’s first aid kit from the bathroom, wet a rag in cool water and I got to work cleaning the blood from his face.

“This has to be gross for you,” he murmurs after a long stretch of silence. His eyes betrayed how self-conscious he must have felt.

Trying to alleviate his anxiety, I pretended to shrug it off. “My mother cleans wounds all the time. At our kitchen table, no less.”

Peeta made a noise that indicated he didn’t buy my act of ease. “I heard at school that you run from the sick and injured.”

I raised my eyebrows at the comment. No one at school talked about me. No one knew me well enough to. People stopped trying to get close to any of Hunter Everdeen’s kids years ago.

The longer I stared at Peeta in disbelief, the more he seemed to lose confidence in his statement. “Maybe I didn't hear it,” he finally amended. I brought the damp cloth back up to his face again as a reward, tenderly wiping away the blood, before using the clean side to set against his swelling lid, hoping to offer some pain reduction there as well. “Maybe I saw it,” he added sheepishly.

I furrowed my brows, even more perplexed by the elaboration. “Saw it?”

“When Leaf Barker tripped and broke his knee in Physical Education last year? You were almost green when you bolted out of the gymnasium.”

His words conjured up a vague image. Still though, something about this felt odd to me.

“How do you remember that better than I do?”

At that, Peeta shrugged. “I guess, I notice you sometimes?”

“What do you mean, sometimes?” I pressed, none of his words suddenly making a bit of sense.

“Why did you stick up for me tonight?” He abruptly segued, his expression shifting into something of defense, like he’s trying to deflect.

But I’m not one to be deterred. “I wasn’t going to stand there and watch your mother hurt you,” I stated, my voice remaining firm. “Why?”

He continued to walk around my question. “Is tonight the first night you ever noticed me?”

I pulled my hand and the damp cloth away from his wounded face, reaching in the kit to grab a white cream I’d seen my mother and Prim both use on swelling before. “Yes,” I finally replied, because I don’t know what else to say. That I saw him glance at me sometimes and then watched as his eyes flit away? That I noticed how he doodled in math class, because he found the subject boring? That I’d seen him lift a sack easily over his shoulder at the bakery and watched him beat almost every upperclassmen at wrestling, even while three years their junior?

None of that seems even remotely relevant to mention.

“When was the first time you noticed me?” I shot back, still being careful to apply the cream with only the lightest pressure to his battered eye.

“Kindergarten,” he instantly blurted out, his tone simple and bold.

I stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before chuckling, catching the joke. “Funny.”

“I’m serious,” he refuted, peaking his good eye open, the sky meeting a silver dollar as our gaze locked. And I see that he is serious somehow.

“What?”

“The first day of kindergarten,” he continued, after a long beat of me just staring him. His confidence had wavered once again and he was looking a bit regretful that he’d put this out in the open. “You were wearing a red velvet dress and brown stockings. Your hair was in two braids instead of one and your ribbons matched your dress. The teacher asked during music assembly who knew The Valley Song and your hand shot right up. She put you on a stool and you sang it, clear as day, for everyone to hear. Even the birds outside stopped to listen. And from that moment on… I was a goner.”

I just continued to look at him in disbelief, unable to put the pieces of what he’s said together. Finally, I whispered, “you’re telling the truth?”

“I’ve had a crush on you for forever,” he admitted, his singularly open eye giving away his nerves at the admission. “And I know you probably don’t feel the same way. I know you didn’t even know my name until tonight but I just wanted to say, in case we never have the chance to speak again-”

“Stop,” I cut him off, my mind already about to explode. “Stop, um…” I refused to look at him as I spoke, furiously staring down at my lap. “I need more time to… process this.”

He had a crush on me since the first day of kindergarten? He’d heard me sing and from that day forward he held a hidden candle for me?

And he never once worked up the courage to talk to me?

Dozens of moments suddenly race through my mind.

Cerulean blue eyes finding me in a crowd countless times and then pulling away as soon as I meet them. The time I wanted to play a stupid game at recess and a stocky blonde boy volunteered to be team captain, and then picked me first. The stunning drawing I found in my locker last year on Sweetheart’s Day, that I was convinced was put there by mistake, though it bore a striking resemblance to the doodles on Peeta’s notebook.

And before I could stop it, I felt myself begin to shake with nerves.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologized, seeing my frightened reaction. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just… I didn’t know if I’d ever get the opportunity to tell you again-”

“Shhh,” I hushed, picking up the damp cloth once more. “Let me take care of your face. And then…” I hesitated again, unsure what to say in this situation. I had exactly zero experiences to compare this to. “Tomorrow we can talk more.”

Peeta nodded amicably, staying silent for the reminder of my ministrations. I felt a terrible pang of guilt for not responding the way he’d probably hoped, but there was still a part of me too stunned to even fully register the confession.

I was an outcast. I’d never fit in with the kids at school, neither town or Seam. I don’t look like the merchants and I’m too rich for the Seam folk. I would have been alone all the time at school if it weren’t for Madge Undersee, the mayor’s daughter who sat with me at lunch and partnered with me in class.

How could anyone have even noticed me to be anything other than strange? I barely spoke, even in classes where I knew all the answers. And I hardly participated in games or gossip. I had a father who insisted most days on picking me up himself from school, not allowing me to walk home alone like the other kids.

But the look in Peeta’s eyes was earnest. He wasn’t playing some elaborate trick on me, he wasn’t trying to coerce me into confessing something as well so he could humiliate me. He was being genuine in every way I could tell. And I had my father’s senses.

The same senses that helped him win his hunger games.

A new thought struck me out of the blue. Peeta seemed too kind and too considerate to have a mother who beat him like this. He doesn’t fit the profile of the kids in the community home, brought there by even less abuse than I witnessed firsthand tonight.

The insane urge to get to know him more, to learn more about this complete stranger who I went out on an impulsive limb for suddenly surges through my brain.

It wouldn’t be a good idea, I told myself. He’s a merchant and I’m the daughter of a victor. Two titles that seem not far apart in theory but are miles away from the other in practice. And I’m not experienced with people the way he is. I don’t know how to make friends or how to maintain them. I don’t know what he expects from me but it’s surely more than I know how to give. I don’t know what to say in a situation like this. Haymitch always tells me I’m as romantic as dirt.

But is that what I want to be? I asked myself as I finished fixing Peeta up. Do I want to be romantic? Do I want to be that girl who holds her boyfriend’s hand in the town square and kisses him under the moonlight? Do I want to put an embroidered ribbon in my hair and wear an expensive dress from the Capitol to go to the Sweetheart’s Dance? Do I want to sneak in through my bedroom window at the crack of dawn so my father won’t know I’ve been out all night?

If I could learn to be romantic, would I want to be?

And naturally, the answer I’ve always known automatically seeps through my brain. No. I’m not like my mother and Prim. I’m practical by nature, rather than fanciful. I’ve never truly obsessed about falling in love or fawned over even the most incredible looking men on the television.

But something held me back now. Something inside me said that answer, the truth I’d always known, is suddenly not entirely accurate anymore.

Because I find that I did want those things I just described. I did want to have someone to hold, someone to laugh with, someone who conjured up that same flip in my stomach as Peeta did earlier when he laughed.

I wanted the same kind of love my parents had. The kind of love that brought them both to life, despite the horrible circumstances they’d both separately endured. I wanted the kind of love that they showed me was possible, even in a world as bleak and as inhumane as Panem felt at times.

I only realized how long I’d been silent, contemplating my inner desires, when Peeta offered a minuscule smile and stood up slowly to leave.

I opened my mouth to speak but when his eyes met mine, every thought in my head was magically wiped away. I had nothing to say, nothing that could be of any sort of consequence, that could mean anything in comparison to his confession.

“I should head back to town,” he murmured, trying to appear nonchalant. “Face my mother. Hope she’s in a better mood now-”

But I couldn’t stand the idea of him returning to the witch, the idea of going to school tomorrow and acting like his words weren’t still spinning around my brain, the idea of even sleeping soundly tonight.

“Peeta,” I called just as he was about to reach the front door. “Wait!”

He turned towards me, looking puzzled by my outburst. “What’s wrong?”

And I don’t know what came over me. I still can’t place what made me—a girl who had never been decisive a day in her life—fling myself across the room and smash my lips onto his.

He didn’t respond at first. I caught him too completely by surprise. His lips hung there, frozen, as mine pushed against his, with too much force and an overload of desperation.

But I felt an incredible stirring in my chest, an odd sensation that felt akin to a giggle amplified.

And when he finally recovered from the shock of it all, his hands both came to rest on either side of my hips, his mouth began to move against mine, his knees bent to reach my height with more success, and the stirring turned to a fiery spark. I know he felt it too, as the kiss was swiftly disturbed by his wide grin.

“Don’t go back home tonight,” I gasped out, looking up at him, wide-eyed and breathless.

His gaze melted as he took me in, he head bobbing in agreement without even needing to consider my request.

“Okay,” he’d whispered with a dazed smile, his blue eyes impossibly wild and sleepy at the same time.

His expression, his spirit somehow, was contagious, and I found myself somewhere stuck between a laugh and a blush when I replied.

“Okay.”

After that night, Peeta rarely went back home. I had called my mother and let her know I was staying at the cabin, but intentionally eluded telling her that the baker’s son was joining me. We’d spent the entire night talking in front of the fire, making each other laugh. The bashfulness I felt from my unexpected kiss stayed in my gut, causing me to bubble up with embarrassed laughter every so often.

But instead of that making things awkward, it cut the tension pretty smoothly. It was only months later did Peeta confess he’d felt just as nervous and just as shy about spending time with me. He was charismatic, I realize even that first night. Ironically funny. He was nice, in a way I rarely have found anyone to be. And, the more time went on, the more my desire grew to stay close to him. The more often I was around him, the more painfully I missed him when we were apart.

It was only a matter of time until my mother found out—not least of all, because my siblings accidentally caught us kissing in back of the school, a month to the day we first spoke.

I always imagined she’d be strict on me, the firstborn, when it came to dating. Especially in the world we lived in. Especially with my father’s position. I truly thought she’d forbid a relationship until I was of age. Maybe I was wrong about her. Or maybe she just saw how I looked at Peeta and understood that I wasn’t just being careless or rebellious. That whatever magnetic connection I felt towards Peeta wasn’t just an ordinary school-aged fling.

To my surprise as well, my mother seemed to take on a very similar stance to me when it came to Peeta and my father. Keeping the news of this entanglement from her husband’s ears was almost her idea.

“What are you thinking about?” Peeta asks me now, bringing me back to the present moment. His fingers tickle my neck as they brush my hair back behind my ear, touching one of the satin green ribbons weaved throughout my loose braids.

“You,” I reply coyly, shooting him a sly glance as I slip past him to head back towards the kitchen.

“Me?” He calls in mock disbelief. He trails up behind me, catching me by the waist and swinging me into his arms without warning.

“Peeta!” I exclaim, automatically wrapping myself around him as I try to steady my balance midair.

“What, baby?”

“Put me down, baby,” I mock, pressing my nose to his now, rubbing them together.

“I like holding you though,” he whispers, like he’s confessing some huge secret.

“Until your arms gets tired-”

“That was one time, Katniss.”

“I’m just reminding you,” I say with an air of superiority. “You don’t always appreciate holding me.”

At that, his demeanor falls a little. “I do when I realize I won’t be seeing you much in a few days.”

I feel my heart sink now too. As excited as I am at the prospect of my father coming home, after weeks apart, I always have to be a little more careful upon his first days back.

He always likes to spend time at the cabin and go for long walks in the woods upon his return. Spend more time in nature than the indoors, stay far away from people outside our family, sleep under the stars by the lake. The Capitol is apparently luxurious, but in my father’s own words, it is void of any true or natural beauty. Everything is artificial, man-made, concocted and orchestrated. There’s nothing that compares in his mind—or mine either—to a cool breeze on a sunny day spent in the meadow where the dandelions grow tall.

“But I’ll still see you in school?” I say, though my voice comes out as more of a plea. Peeta doesn’t always like to attend school these days, not when he knows his parents can easily track him down there.

His father, the baker himself, took the ambiguous loss of his youngest—his favorite—son particularly hard. It was only a matter of weeks after I intercepted his mother beating him that Peeta definitively decided to sever ties with majority of his family.

I’d like to say he made the choice all on his own but that’d be a lie. I watched as the physical bruises on his skin healed, as he began to peel back emotional layer upon layer to me, as he slowly told me what really had been going on in the Mellark’s family home. And I can’t say that I was impartial to his decision to cut the connection to a mother with a bruising fist and a father who closed his eyes and let it happen.

“Delly’s parents usually make me go to school so…” He shrugs it off, like it’s of no consequence, his arms hoisting me higher against his chest.

But I feel a sudden wave of gratitude towards the Cartwrights. They may be a little too jolly for my liking and their daughter, Delly, maybe can’t take a hint to save her life, but at least they always watch out for Peeta’s well-being. At least they cover for him when his mother come sniffing around and they feed him what they can afford and force him to attend class, where I’ll be able to see him.

“Good,” I murmur, at peace now. My father will be home soon and Peeta will be safely tucked away with his best friend.

I lean down and kiss his nose sweetly, reveling in the tender moment. His lips follow my lead and begin to plant themselves across my chin, underneath my jaw, causing me to squirm and squeal at the sensation.

“So,” he murmurs against my throat. “We have the entire place to ourselves, for the whole night, huh?”

His audacious smile elicits my own. “At least.” My father’s delays usually mean a minimum of two days.

Within a minute, Peeta has me on my back, against the softly quilted bed of my upstairs room. He takes his time helping me out of my clothes before I hurriedly shove his off, impatient and hungry.

He, of course, finds time to crack a joke. “Good thing Archie is too young to come here unchaperoned. Or else we’d never get the chance to do this.”

I roll my eyes and shove his mouth off my collarbone, utterly disgusted now. “Talking about my baby brother is one sure way to turn me off, Peeta.”

Archer, my three-old-brother, was an unexpected surprise, to put it lightly. My parents were done with two girls. My father joked him and my mother were both already set with one clone each, but alas, the year of the Seventieth Hunger Games was a year full of shocks.

A few months before the games that year, the coal mines—the industry Twelve is known for—exploded. Right in the middle of the afternoon, as everyone was obliviously going about their day.

It was a close call for many and one more reason my father is beloved around these parts. If he hadn’t been at the right place, at the right time, if he hadn’t volunteered to go with Prim and her class on a field trip down to the mines that day, there was a chance that no one would have noticed the gas leak.

It was too late to do anything by the time my father pointed it out, but his warning and the fact that people in Twelve take his word very seriously, managed to save the lives the inevitable explosion would have otherwise cost.

Through the outpouring of gratitude, and the overwhelming media coverage my whole family was abruptly bombarded with, my parents made the decision to pull me and Prim from school for a while, to hole up in the remodeled cabin, where no one could find us because of its illegal location.

I’ve never ask and I don't ever want to know when my parents conceived Archer. But about nine months after the vacation from the world, my mother gave birth to a little boy who looked identical to me and my father.

“Sorry,” Peeta whispers with a chuckle, collapsing beside me. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He moves to kiss my stomach, to trace circles on my hips like he always does. But I shake my head, a different request—or more like it, demand—on my mind.

“Tell me the story of how you first fell in love with me?”

Peeta rolls his eyes. Very dramatically. “You mean a year ago?”

“I mean in kindergarten,” I say with a smirk and then let out a shriek of surprise when he pounces on me, his lips attacking my neck.

“Aren’t you tired of that story yet?” He asks, his voice edging on exasperated.

“You never tire of a classic.” I give him a pout, knowing he never refuses me anything when I pull that trick.

I’m right, as per usual. “Fine,” he relents, but his eyes tell me that he enjoys telling this tale more than he leads on. “Come here.” He holds open his arms and waits for me to crawl into them, to settle against his chest.

I lay there for a long moment, my pointer finger running up and down the center of his bicep, as my ear rests against his heartbeat, patiently waiting for him to begin.

“It was the very first day of school. You were wearing a red, velvet dress…”

Read the rest on AO3

#katnissmellarkkkk #prompt 59 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Wish Upon a Night Sky - [Beastars | Various x Reader]

[Female, Sheep Reader | Slow Burn]

Act Two | Down to Earth

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"What are you standing there alone for, (Y/N)? Come sit with me!"

While you expect Juno would rather have lunch with people she already knows well, you see her stand up from her seat and approach your side when she spots you nearby. She holds the tray firm in one hand and waves with the other. In response, you smile and grab your own tray tight before following her, all while ignoring the ever-growing feeling of everyone's eyes on you, regardless of almost all the students around being too busy eating, talking, and walking to notice your presence. So far, and -- close to what you expected -- you've only talked with the wolf and the dog; the latter you hadn't even come across with since yesterday afternoon. Truth be told, you want to take up his offer and knock at the door of his dorm, but more than one reason restrains you from doing it.

First, you'd only known him for a day, and even if you really did only need to ask him more about the school, you couldn't gather sufficient courage to do it. Second, you didn't want to risk making your parents worry by telling them the very first thing you'd done was run off to the boys' dorm without a care in the world. Third and most important of all right now, you didn't know how to keep up a normal conversation with Juno without worrying about your word choice every few seconds, so merely thinking of doing the same with Jack made you retreat on the idea without thinking it twice. Having to share a room with someone else and the impending need to form small talk and prevent yourself from seeming rude or awkward was already draining enough -- mentally, most of all. You're aware you're far from prepared to tackle any other, larger issues without having an internal meltdown over them, so it's best to set some limits for the moment being; perhaps eventually, you could handle a bigger crowd, but today's not that day.

Being homeschooled weights more as a con the more hours you spend at this school. Not only do you have a hard time being social and getting adjusted to such a large campus, but you barely have any knowledge of the relationship between carnivores, herbivores, and those in-between. If you didn't wish to be classified as ignorant or naïve, you would soon need to ask either Juno or Jack to tell you where the library is. Starting off with some basic research is about the least you can do to break out of that shell -- once and for all.

"...Earth to lamb?"

You flinch and almost topple the juice box on your tray.

It takes you a second to process that you've already made it to a table, and a few more to acknowledge Juno's now sitting down -- and with an empty chair waiting across from her, too.

"Sorry," you say, mouth and ears drooping just as much as your courage. Your head spins as you rush to sit down and shrink away in your seat, avoiding eye contact with her by all means possible. Then, you take your drink, open it, and sip some of it, hoping to ease the tension out of you. "I keep... spacing out lately."

Juno smiles and tilts her head to the side, while her ears perk and her gaze lights up. Her eyes are intent on you, and these carry the same brightness as when she talked with you about love. "Someone on your mind?" She looks behind her -- as if expecting to see your source of interest from close by; her smile remains intact as she goes back to looking at you. "Is it Jack?" she asks, winking. "You looked like you were getting along pretty well with him yesterday."

You smile back, though you still end up shaking your head to let her know otherwise. Having a crush on someone so quick and suddenly was unlikely for you, but the reminder of how passionate she seemed about this particular subject yesterday makes you believe she's the type to fall fast and love lavishly. You fork some of the salad on your tray and toy with it for a moment, mind yet to return from its journey as you consider her words and just how different your view on love is when compared to hers. "I was thinking of him, but not like that." You take in some air and brace yourself for any incoming questions. "I was actually wondering if… if you knew where the library is? I know he offered to help, but-"

"So there is something going on with you!" The wolf interrupts you with her excitement and stands up from her seat. Her gaze is now as wide as the smile on her face, and her energy almost rubs off on you. She places her hands on the table, leans in, and suspends herself over it. "Was it love at first sight? Don't skim on the details, (Y/N)!"

You scratch your throat and prepare yourself with a deep breath, at a dire need to tell her the truth.

"Ah, n- no." You set the fork down and look up to meet with her eyes. The desire to clear things up grows stronger, and you can't ignore it for much longer. "I just want to make friends, but I'm not sure I'll be too successful in that, considering how… who I am."

Juno's excitement falls. Her gaze knits as she sits back down, and a frown replaces her smile, overpowering her previous attitude entirely. "What do you mean?"

You gather wit to be blunt, not wanting to sugarcoat how you feel about yourself and this recent change. "Frankly, I'm…" Your words trail off and you hesitate with a deep breath in, along with one out. "I feel I'm too... ignorant to understand how to get along better with others at this school." Hunger stays absent -- even when you stare down at your plate and breathe in its scent. Your confidence from yesterday proves to be little and outright superficial with how different you feel today, reaching towards a level of self-consciousness you haven't experienced since your early teens. "I only ever went to kindergarten, and the rest of my years were taught at home." You grab the juice box and drink from it in an attempt at finding your appetite again. When you gulp, it feels worse than before. Nausea arrives with how much you dwell over a single topic. "To be honest, It… It surprised me when I noticed I'd be staying in the same dorm as you. Jack heard me say something… rude about it, though I'm not sure if you heard me, too."

"Oh, I heard you," Juno replies, a laugh leaving her mouth. She takes a bite from her food before continuing with, "But I pretended not to."

"Why would you do that?" you ask, now your turn to frown. "You were so close by when I yelled that…" Your face turns hot the longer you think about that memory. "It was rude of me. A terrible first impression, that's for sure!"

A grin forms on her face, though she doesn't say anything yet. Rather, she takes another bite off her meal, almost emptying the plate in the process. How fast she eats prompts you to start eating from your tray, against wasting any food and risking the chances of feeling hungry by your next class. "Maybe it was, but I wanted to see if you would bring it up someday." She sets the cutlery down and glances behind you, grin growing. "And you did," she adds, words as confident as you wish you could be. "Much earlier than I thought you would." Juno gazes behind you again; her tail wags and her eyes spark with what looks to be mischief. "Look behind you!"

You do as suggested and almost end up falling from your seat when you come face-to-face with Jack, his knees currently bent to match with your sitting height. His snout is nearly close enough to brush with yours, and that same excitement and joy from yesterday remains in his stance. "How's your first day going?" he asks, tail wagging at a similar pace to Juno's, although his smile proves to be more genuine rather than teasing. "It's nice to see you making friends already!" His eyes shift towards the wolf and turn back to you once more. Then, a slip of paper is offered out to you, this one folded neat and compact for you to carry. "Here's my number, in case you ever want to hang out."

"Being bold again, aren't you, Jack?"

His hold on the paper stays even as you take it; a hint of embarrassment shows up on his cheeks when he looks at Juno. Her comment -- slowly, but surely -- dawns on him and leads to him staying frozen in that same spot for a while. "It's not like that!" Jack exclaims, snapping out of it. He finally lets go of it to stand up straight and meet the wolf with a flustered gaze.

Juno, on the other hand, laughs it out with just as much glee as the first time "Sure, it's not," she replies, giggling. Her teasing nature returns in an instant, hardly giving him a chance to recover from the previous blow. "First, you invite her to your place, and then you give her your number, too? I'm the person you can least hide these things from."

That's enough for her to shut his mouth.

Jack's forced to find a distraction by facing you again, with a less confident look now present in his eyes. "Think we could talk later? I'm meeting up with some friends today." He stops for a second; fluster falls from his face as a cheery expression makes its return. "And maybe I can introduce you to some of them, too. I'm sure they'd like to meet someone new!" He takes a final glance at the paper before leaving the table, an act done while avoiding Juno's gaze from all angles.

"Y- You can still keep that, by the way."

With that last, stuttered sentence, he runs off -- but not before waving goodbye.

You wave back and watch as he disappears from your sight, leaving you alone with Juno once more, who smiles in response.

"So... Friends, huh?" she jokes, letting out a laugh.

Your tray almost ends up on the floor when she says that, hands shaking to the point where you can't bring much control over them anymore.

While you're aware she's not being serious and that it's all done in good fun, you can't help dwelling too much on whether you're supposed to be here, and if someone like you would only cause more trouble to the school and all its people.

"I'll take your word for it, (Y/N)."

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• • •

Updates will be weekly on Mondays from here on out!

#various x reader #legoshi x reader #legosi x reader #haru x reader #jack x reader #juno x reader #rouis x reader #louis x reader #beastars x reader #female reader #sheep reader #slow burn #romance #mystery #thriller #lgbt #lgbt themes #long fic

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

lame

07.

look, i know i’m an asshole but at least i’m trying

“Look at that, isn’t he amazing?” the blond boy yells, pointing at the TV on display, showing one of those heroes in work.

“Uwah, All Might’s so cool!”

(E/c) eyes followed the boys’ gazes, watching a big hulking figure power through villains.

She could only nod, half-heartedly, keeping her eyes on the screen, listening to the two boys go on about how amazing he was.

Booming laughter sounded off from the screen, the two boys anticipating as the hero turned to the camera. “I am here!”

And then, the boys went wild – gesticulating wildly, words of admiration leaving their lips, eyes twinkling with amazement. Honestly, it was easy to like someone as big and prominent as All Might.

But in a world ruled by quirks, and your perception of them tainted at an early age, it was difficult to really set yourself on where you stood.

“Isn’t he the coolest, (Nickname?)” green eyes turned to the (h/c) girl.

“Uh, yeah…” came the girl’s reply, rather dull and lacking in the same energy as the two boys.

“That was a weak reply, (Name)!” the blond boy turned to her, a bit offended. “You should be crying out like me and Deku! All Might’s the coolest!”

Chancing a look at the said hero on screen, she shrugged, unsure how to reply to that. “I mean, I guess he is.”

Both boys froze at their friend’s lack of admiration for their favorite hero.

“Sorry I’m not like you guys.”

“T-That’s okay, (Nickname).” The green-haired boy says, voice shaky and his eyes sheen with tears he’s fighting off, smiling warmly at her.

“Hey, that doesn’t mean I don’t like him, though. He’s just not my favorite hero.”

The blond boy’s carmine eyes widen at that, the three kids began to walk home together once the show was over.

“Then, who is your favorite?”

“Hm…I guess I prefer the quiet heroes, I guess?” she nods, mind thinking of policemen, teachers, cooks, train staff, and fishermen. “Ones that don’t really stand out but are cooler in other ways.”

“Ah, there’s this one hero I heard about from Kyoto!” Izuku tells her. “He has a healing quirk, but he’s also really good at martial arts and carries a cool staff with him.”

“That’s Merlin!” the girl gushes excitedly, her walking having a bit of a jump. “The Wandering Hero: Merlin! He’s so cool! I think my grandpa mentioned him before, having trained in our dojo when he was still in training. Ma says he was the prettiest looking man next to Pa. And Pa says his quirk’s extra cool if you get to see it in person!”

(E/c) eyes sparkled the more she gushed about this hero of hers, one he’s never heard of because of his rather elusive nature as a hero.

“That sounds amazing, (Nickname)! I wish my family could have known All Might as well!” the green-haired boy’s tiny fists shook with excitement, sharing her enthusiasm.

“Tch, All Might’s still better. Just wait ‘til I become a hero, (Name)…” muttered the blond, hands in his pockets. “Then you’ll see that I’m definitely the best outta the rest.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, looking at her friend in disbelief. Then mischief.

Getting behind him, she kicks the backs of his knees, causing him to topple to the ground face first.

“Ah, Kacchan!”

“What the hell was that for, (Name)!?”

“That was so lame of you, Katsuki!” laughed the girl, sticking her tongue out as she grabbed the green-haired boy’s hand and proceeded to run ahead of him.

Angered the boy rushes to his knees, cheeks definitely not flushed, and gives the two a chase. “HAH!? WHO’RE YOU CALLING LAME!?”

Three little kids ran down the streets, laughing in their wake.

Traditions in Japan were rather a thing that made the country quite known to the outside world, as many adhered to certain types of customs.

And as per family tradition, certain family never fails to hand over ochugen gifts to the people in your lives.

A (h/c) girl was headed off to the Bakugou’s first, a box full of fresh harvest from her grandpa’s garden. Coincidentally, it also happened to be Izuku’s birthday and she got him special tickets to that superhero exhibit. To commemorate, she had even worn an All Might shirt!

Reaching the Bakugou’s, she put down the Midoriya’s box, before reaching for the doorbell. Someone yelled inside, followed by explosive remarks, which was something she’s rather used to.

Patiently waiting, she felt a buzz, taking her phone out of her shorts pocket, smiling when she saw a text from the birthday boy, feeling the excitement through his text.

The door clicked open, her smile still in place as she furiously texted Izuku back. As she pressed reply, she then pocketed her phone and readily met a pair of carmine eyes.

Except, the owner of said eyes came from the last person she cared for, smile flattening.

For a second there was surprise in his features, softening slightly as his usual scowl set in. His eyes took in her form, the box, then at the ridiculous shirt she had on. “What the fuck are you wear-“

Behind him, a voice called out. “(Name)-chan!”

It was Auntie Mitsuki.

Smile finding its way back, a rather polite one at that, the teen greeted her back. “Hiya, Auntie!”

Shouldering her son aside, receiving a snarky reply she didn’t bother with, the Bakugou matriarch’s eyes shined at the sight of the young teen. “Look at you, growing up so fast to be this cute!” unable to help herself, she reached over to pinch the younger girl’s cheeks before swallowing her into her arms for a hug. Releasing the girl, her carmine eyes then focused and shined at the items in her hand. “Ah, Shihan really has the neatest harvest every summer, thanks for these!”

“We most graciously bestow our gratitude to you, oh great Bakugou Mitsuki!” the teen implored, rather dramatically, earning a laugh between the two, like a running gag.

Bakugou could only watch, quite amazed at their relationship.

“Oi brat, get this will ya?” snapped his mother over her shoulder.

“Don’t tell me what to do, hag!” screamed the blond back, carefully taking the box from her hands.

Their eyes met briefly before she easily slid them away to focus on his mom, an instantaneous reaction.

“You seem dolled up, (Name)-chan. Got a date?”

Humming, she tilted her head to the side. “You could say that,” at that, Bakugou nearly stumbled in his step but she didn’t notice. “it’s Izuku’s birthday today and I’m just having a birthday date with him in a while!”

At the mentioned of Deku, Bakugou froze in his step, looking over his shoulder to take in her attire once more – a gaudy All Might shirt tucked into some simple denim shorts, then some sneakers.

“Aw, ain’t that cute. Oi, Katsuki, why aren’t you with them!?”

Caught, he burst out a reply. “HAH? Why the hell would I spend time with those extras?” his words got the best of him before he could control himself, her brows knitting together, pain flashing through (e/c) eyes for a quick second. He instantly regretted opening his stupid mouth.

“Anyways," he couldn't help notice the slight strain in her voice, feeling his heart drop "I just came to drop by our ochugen gifts. Thank you again for all your help, Auntie.” Grabbing the Midoriya’s gift box from the ground, the teen worked on a smile. “Please tell Uncle Masaru I said hi!” And with that, she was gone.

Both blonds watch the young girl walk away before the door closed. Without a word, Mitsuki walked back in, giving a quick smack to her son’s head before disappearing into the kitchen.

Her hit was rather soft, reprimanding.

Something unpleasant filled his gut as he dropped the gift box on the dining room table and headed off to his room, pained (e/c) eyes haunting him.

You always hurt the ones you love.

Does it feel weird to feel close to someone you haven’t spoken to in years? That there’s always been this sort of connection between the two of you that instantly links you together even after days, months, years of zero contact?

Well, that’s how Bakugou Katsuki feels towards Yuroichi (Name).

Ever since they were kids and he was introduced to (Name), she was all he cared about. Well, there was Deku, but he was second on his list.

(Name) had always been special for him.

But then, things changed.

Since being paired up with Deku for his practical exam, he was unsettled. Well, he’s been unsettled for a lot of things for lots of reasons. But basically, what he’s been unsettled about with Deku was (Name).

While he remembered wimpy Deku trailing behind him, there was always (Name) ready to drag him away or be beside him. Where there was Deku, (Name) was sure to follow. They were like a combo; one was never without the other. He hated it.

Deku had no fucking quirk, was weak, small, a shitty nerd, yet he had the fucking gall to stand up and try to be a hero. With that, (Name) shifted her attention and adoration to him and him alone.

Honestly, he didn’t mind that they were quirkless – they honestly just got in the way.

Still, it fucking hurts that (Name) wouldn’t bother looking his way or even saying a word to him. Fuck, even Deku would acknowledge him even if it were outta fear!

Bullying probably made sense to keep her distance, especially since he loved targeting weak quirkless like Deku and her. But to be on the receiving end of those angry eyes, it made him weak. It may have enforced and asserted his dominance in middle school, but to her, it was a disgusting power play.

He may not be close with her compared to when they were younger, but he’s always kept an eye out for her (and Deku, shut up). He knows that she’s an expert martial artist, bagging and winning several competitions and tournaments, was the pride of the school and her family dojo, sleeps a lot during classes, and sometimes, the older kids would pick on her because they knew she was tough.

(However, after that one time in middle school, she stopped with the fighting and worked on a clean slate.)

She never befriended anyone without a quirk lightly, the majority of her friends either were quirkless or had a really minor, insignificant quirk. She didn’t seem to care nor mind. However, Deku remained her closest companion.

He’d see her a lot – in hallways, in class, on the way home, but he never got to be with her.

Nonchalant, lax, yet kind and sweet to others, but to him, she was forcibly polite and civil.

Those adoring, reassuring, warm (e/c) eyes were reserved for that one shitty nerd.

He hated to admit it, but he craved for her attention, yearned for her approval, and desperately lingered on the fact that they were childhood friends, so he’s obliged to keep a relationship, even when now they’re barely acquaintances.

On his middle school graduation, while he was surrounded by his so-called friends and his parents, his eyes easily caught on two people laughing amongst themselves.

Just seeing them, laughing together with cherry blossoms fluttering to paint an idyllic image, suddenly made him feel extremely lonely. His hold on his diploma slackened, fingers and foot twitching, eyes taking his childhood acquaintances in.

Graduating top of his class, with a bright future set for UA High School. He should be excited, right? Ecstatic even at what he’s gained? Yet why does it feel so lacking?

Carmine eyes began to soften, especially at the smaller of the two. Realization dawned unto him, the occasion was rather bittersweet for (Name), as it was nearing a year since she lost her parents and she couldn’t share the joyous occasion with them. Thankfully, she had her grandfather with her, then Auntie Inko, and Deku.

But not him.

Irked, he left before his mom could find them, no doubt, to use the opportunity to snag a photo of the three.

Nothing hurts more than to realize that the one person – he swore to protect, to keep by his side, had completely shunned him.

At first, they were inseparable. But as the years passed, they drifted apart.

The day (Name) punched him was a literal awakening, a prologue really. It got him worked up. Then the Sludge Incident happened. Her parents died. The light in those (e/c) eyes weren’t as bright as before, even when she got a part-time job.

He knew he was wrong; he won’t deny that (but he won’t say it out loud either), but he won’t ever hide from it either.

After getting into UA, he felt her punch even more at the introduction of his classmates with quirks, as she aptly put it “better and flashier” compared to his.

That stung, hurting his ego.

Damn, the top was a challenge.

But he wasn’t backing down, damn it.

So, what is he was a proud asshole? He had every reason to be! He had compensated with his talents, smarts, and versatility.

Still, to be called out on having a shitty personality boosted only by the fact that he had a strong quirk could do a number to him.

When it came to matters of the heart, he sucked in that aspect.

(h/c) locks, framing a pretty face with (e/c) eyes, they always, always, always manage to catch him off-guard.

Unbeknownst to the green-haired nerd, whenever he opened his big mouth to his friends in 1-A, he’d hope there was something about (Name), no matter how small or insignificant. They even texted.

Pride would always win over him whenever Deku would openly talk about (Name) – Bakugou would pretend to be uninterested, looking out the window while he was actually taking in the nerd’s words like a starved man, he was the only source of news he had because for the first time in their life, (Name) was not there with them. It sucked. (She was very clear on steering away from heroics or people who had a quirk, despite having one herself)

The days were lonelier and duller without her. Deku’s ramblings were something – slightly comforting, but don’t tell him that, but it just missed that one figure next to him.

For all his bravado, just the mere mention of Yoruichi (Name) made him weak. Wait, scratch that, (Name) was a strong person by herself, he did not make him weak, shut up. Hesitate, yeah, that’s the word, she made him falter, hesitate. Whatever.

Thankfully, none of his idiotic ragtag of friends keyed in on that. Save for Deku.

Deku, who’d always known. Deku, that sharp fucking nerd who always tried to be the goody-two-shoes and goaded him to talk to her.

Like fuck he’d talk to him about (Name), fucking no way. He’d rather have his nails done with half-and-half bastard than to have a heart-to-heart talk with fucking Deku.

Still, there was just one thing he was sure of about Deku, one thing he’ll never admit to anyone – or even him, out loud: compared between the two, Deku was always the bigger person. He was kinder, gentler, better.

A part of him would forever be jealous of the fact that Deku had been there for her when he couldn’t. Deku had access to parts of (Name) he was barred from. Deku was protective of her. Deku had (Name).

And as for him? Well, he was probably good as a dead fuck to her.

The punch still stung.

Nothing hurts more than to realize that you never had a chance, to begin with.

From: (Name) Yuroichi

To: Bakugou Katsuki

I’m glad you’re safe.

A day after Kamino…

For once, the Bakugou household was at peace, a day after his kidnapping. The day before, there was screaming, yelling, crying from both parentals that probably had dried off for today. At least for the first few minutes of the day.

The doorbell rang, Katsuki called out to get it, desperate for a bit of distraction from the silence around him.

He opened the door then froze, breath hitching. Two breaths, actually.

Carmine met (e/c).

For once, indifference was not the expression set on her face that he was looking at, but a softened expression. So incredibly soft.

An image of a younger her suddenly came to mind, back to when they first met each other.

“Katsu- “stopping, her lips pinched together, a small frown setting in, not ready to say his name just yet.

Hurt flashed in his eyes, desperately taking her in.

When he was kidnapped, first of all, he was annoyed as fuck, but most of all, he was scared. The League of Villains had him by the neck, literally, immobilized him, just to lure out All Might. And the thing that kept him grounded was her, (Name). The memory of her soft expression after they’d washed the dishes, comforting silence between them, that burnt mark on her neck, her telling him to have fun at summer camp. Her text message.

Remembering her presence at his doorstep, his eyes caught hold of the item in her hand – ochugen gifts, he uncharacteristically gestured at it.

“U-Uh…”

“Y-Yeah…ochugen.”

“My mom’s not home, so…” his words came out lamely, weakly. So, unlike him.

But she was so lost in her head that she could only nod.

Gently, he reached for the box, their fingers brushing against each other lightly.

Something fluttered in his chest, wildly and tightly. Summer seemed to have come quickly as he was beginning to sweat, the smell of burnt sugar bleeding through.

“T-Then…”

“Hn,”

Head still hung low, he took it as her parting, something in his chest twisting painfully, and he slowly turned on his back.

(Before he headed back in, instincts – maybe, or her heart forced her to, she grabbed hold on the back of his shirt, stopping him, and pressed her head between his shoulder blades, taking in his scent.)

Bakugou didn’t move, feeling her shaking hands balling into fists, as though to ground herself.

“I…I know I said this already, but still, I want you to know,” her voice was shaky, but she continued to speak, taking a deep breath. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” The thing in his chest continued to flutter wildly, threatening to come out. “And I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

Silence followed, likening to a pregnant pause, there was more she wanted to say, but the fear of having your feelings get the best of you seemed off-setting in the given situation, so she settled for that.

Before another word was said, she hurriedly grabbed the Midoriya’s box and clumsily left, completely red in the face.

He watched her leave over his shoulder, she almost ran into the gate, fumbling with the box as she headed to the Midoriya’s.

Suddenly, he felt lighter. The punch no longer hurt, leaving a bruise in its wake. This was the beginning of progress with her, it was something. Proud as he is, Bakugou’s never one to admit his mistakes, but for her, he’ll try.

If anything, she was right about everything she thought about him. Especially the part that he was lame.

masterlist • eight

#lame #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugou katsuki angst #bakugou katsuki angst fic #bnha #bnha fic #bnha angst #bnha angst fic #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #mha fic #mha angst #mha angst fic

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todourouki · 4 years

Text

Misery Business | K. Bakugou

a one shot

✰ SUMMARY the one where you didn’t mean to take the hothead away from his girlfriend, but you did anyway. It was nothing personal, you just knew that Bakugou Katsuki deserved way better than what he was settling for.

PAIRING Taken/Pro-Hero!Bakugou & Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT 4.6K

WARNINGS explicit language, mentions of cheating, cheating lol, suggestive language, angst, and some fluff at the end bc I cannot end my fics in a bad way I am weak sorry!

You were not a home wrecker.

At least, you wouldn’t say that to your own face.

You knew that the crush you had on Bakugou was wrong. You know that no matter how it is that you put it, or however strong your feelings are, or even however long you’ve even had feelings— liking a guy in a relationship was a huge no-no.

You weren’t the kind of girl to go around liking a girl’s boyfriend, though. It’s not like your feelings magically appeared out of thin air and now you’re stuck falling inlove with a guy that finds solitude in someone else— no, you aren’t like that.

Your feelings for Bakugou are much more complex, to say the least.

It all started in high school, when just the mere thought of the boy brought butterflies to your stomach with how strong and courageous he was. From his attractive face, to his blunt and explosive personality, you always found yourself admiring him when given the chance.

All of that went to shit when he decided to finally give one of the girls that were always fawning over him a chance during the beginning of your third year attending Yuuei Academy.

It was like you had gotten punched in the face, and now it feels like you’re just purposely getting stabbing in the heart every time you did as much as look at them.

That definitely explains why you’re sulking at your table during a school dance with a scowl on your face so you don’t have to see the happy couple waltz around the cafeteria floor.

All the top Pro-Heroes were assigned to attend the dance as academy alumni in order to ensure the safety of the students (as well as make sure students even decided to show up). You, being one of the top five heroes, were ordered to show up with no complaints.

The song currently playing finally changed from a low-tempo song to a much higher one, and with that, you decided to make that your imaginary queue to take a walk around the school’s building before returning to the large decorated area.

Your heel-clad feet dragged you all the way across the gymnasium, sending kids smiles if they were in your way and simply telling them that you were “getting some fresh air before the real fun starts.”

The doors slammed shut, and the solitude of the hallways engulfed in dark hues reflected against your strained eyes in a way that made you have to physically restrain your hand from harshly rubbing at it in order to make sure your make up stood intact.

The halls reminded you of a younger you (and by younger, you mean two years. you’re only 20 and already have the mind of some old hag) that used to run through these halls with a mini little green skirt and an imagination you wish you could still understand.

They also reminded you of the blond boy inside. Especially the room you stood in front of right now.

Almost as if it was second nature, your body made its way to Class 1-A: the place where it all began, the place where you met your closest friends, and the place where you fell inlove.

Opening the door, the lights turned on to reveal a classroom almost identical to the one you walked into every day four years ago. The desks were positioned the same, the posters remained in the same spot, and even the words on the chalkboard seemed oddly familiar.

The room reeked of new paint and textbook papers, and the only thing you really wanted to smell was the designer perfume clinging helplessly to your body so the odors of a high school class don’t even think twice about sticking to you.

Your body walked towards your old desk, Seat 12, the dress you wore clinging to your body as you pulled the chair out and nostalgically sat down. You were a first year all over again, and the thought made you laugh.

You looked embarrassing your first year— as embarrassing as someone who looks like you now can get. From the hideously overheated hair, to the emo phase you still seemed to sort of be stuck in, the world seemed too easy no matter what bullshit was going on the minute you sat down at that desk.

That explained how you felt now— no matter how much your heart yearned to be in the hands of Bakugou, the minute the cold sturdiness of the chair touched your warm body, all of that disappeared. For once, nothing in the world mattered. More precisely, Bakugou didn’t matter.

“Tch, I knew you’d be in here.” Annnddd there goes that.

Your eyes widened, now staring at a smirking blond wearing a black and white tux instead of the chalkboard you once zoned out on.

His arms were crossed against his muscular chest, and the muscles outlined the button up shirt in a way that should just be downright illegal. His face was gleaming with mischief, slowly walking his way over to the empty desk directly next to yours, taking a seat, and positioning his body in a lazy manner with his legs propped up against the table. Just like before.

“You know, this brings back a lot of shitty memories.” He grunted, stretching his arms behind his head and lolling his head to face you.

You nodded in response, glancing your head up to look at the lights in a way to move the gears in your brain to say something. Literally the same thing you used to do during Midnight’s long, tedious classes.

“Yea, a bunch of ones I’d much rather forget.” You said, looking over at him and watching as his eyes stared directly at the window you always found him staring out of when he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone in class.

“Always hearing your annoying ass mumble and suck your teeth used to really piss me off.” His words were masked with seriousness, trying to hide the playful smirk on his lips you identified much too quickly. With that, a scoff left your lips and you crossed your arms.

“Nobody said anything about the pencil you insisted on tapping for hours straight.” Your jab back made him chuckle, looking back at you with vermillion eyes that made you lose all sense of feelings.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you always forgot what it was like to look at anything before you looked into his eyes. That’s how scary it was— how intimidating it was to be under his presence. His eyes captured you, holding you hostage and probably never letting you go.

“At least we didn’t sit next to each other during our third year,” he began, placing a hand loosely around his tie as he continued to look at you in your eyes, “I don’t think I would have ever focused with the humming you did to the same damn song every day.”

“Yeah, instead of me though, you ended up sitting with your future wife.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID.

It was like word vomit, the snarky tone slipping through your lips as if it was trying its hardest to come off in a jokingly manner, only ending up appearing as sarcastic as possible. It was like the words fell from your tongue quicker than you could punch your own esophagus.

Bakugou stood quiet for a moment, staring at you and knitting his eyebrows together as if deep in thought. Your eyes ended up leading you back to the words Relief Fund written messily against the green chalkboard to save your embarrassment.

You didn’t see the frown itching across Bakugou’s lips.

“We aren’t married, ya know. I don’t know why people decided to start that rumor.” He said, a sigh passing by his lips to quiet his tone as if he was scared his girlfriend was around to hear it.

“Might as well marry her. You’re not really the kind of guy that dates just to date.” Your words struck hesitantly in the room in a timid yet informative voice, and Bakugou watched the board as well so that you were both avoiding each other’s gaze.

“Yeah well I’m not sure, marriage is a big deal.” Bakugou was muttering, and the tone of his voice made you crane your neck over to where he was seated as you stood quiet.

What were you, someone who was basically inlove with him, supposed to say that?

You both stood in silence for a few seconds, the words in your throat itching to escape as the remnants of memories you both had both in class and just together in general filled your vision.

“I always hated this seat because I knew it meant that I would always be the person you would argue with.” You began, closing your eyes and releasing a strained scoff from your glossed lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing, or what you were talking about, but as the moon danced across the pale boy’s face and the music in the cafeteria continued to gently ring through the halls, the only thing you were thinking about doing was speaking more than you ever have.

“Morning after morning, I grew used to your loud voice and extremely hostile—” “HAH? I was NOT—”

You sent him a glare, immediately cutting him off and proceeding your weird speech that just couldn’t let anything go.

“Anyways, morning after morning, I ended up looking forward to the words you decided to call me and yell at me about for the day. It’s like, if it didn’t happen,” your arms moved in an animated way, catching Katsuki’s full attention as he looked on to your rant, “I felt like my day wasn’t really an actual day, ya know?

The one thing you loved appreciated most about Bakugou was his ability to listen. And when you say listen, you mean just listen. His ears were perked up in your direction, shoes turned towards you and eyes watching your movements like a hawk.

“And then—” you gulped, pausing for a second in order to think your words though. It was always now or never to you, the drama giving you a sense of hope against a man like that.

It’s either I bring it up now, or I never get to speak my peace, and I refuse to be one of those people showing up to the wedding yelling ‘I oppose.’

“And then it was here that I realized I was the biggest idiot alive by feeling the way I felt about this one person.” You said, eyes glaring at the wall in front of you blankly as you cowered behind the whisps of your lashes.

Bakugou said nothing, but from the corner of you eye, you could see him staring at the side of your face with an expression you had never really see on him.

“I spent years pining after some dumbass that didn’t even see the genuine interest I had in him.” Your words were like alcohol, and Bakugou was too busy drinking them all in to fully acknowledge what you were talking about.

“I watched him give in to this one girl though,” a lightbulb when off in the boy’s head and for once, he felt like the idiot in the room, “a girl that doesn’t even care for him.”

“Y/N..” Bakugou growled, almost as if he was threatening you and warning you to tread on light waters.

If there was one thing he ever respected about you though, it was that you were never scared of him.

Your eyes snapped towards him, a scowl on your face as you began to feel anger bubbling up in your stomach from the way he tried to shut you up. You were finally speaking your peace and he’s too much of a coward to let you finish?

“You know, I thought the first red flag of her trying to change his attitude was enough. I thought that maybe, just maybe, after her telling him that being number one hero wasn’t really tangible, he’d have some common fucking sense and see what everyone else sees.” Your words were like venom, your eyes not leaving his as you huffed in your seat.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Bakugou’s voice was low and angry, laced with anger as he stared at you just as intensely as you stared at him. Your expression never faltered, and instead, you turned your entire body around in the chair to fully face him with arms across your chest.

“I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” you taunted, your anger only rising in value, “and so the fuck do you, Bakugou.”

“You know she doesn’t give a fuck about you and you know very fucking well she’s only with you because you’re Bakugou Katsuki!”

His name slipping off your tongue brought shivers to his spine as he sat up in his seat and glared at you with the tip of his ears painting themselves a light red hue.

He was angry— not necessarily at you, but at the fact that he was getting called out for something like this. He was getting called out for finally being with a girl and was getting shit for it from someone he saw as a best friend.

“You don’t know shit— you don’t even fucking know her.” His voice began to get louder, the bass in his voice causing your heart to vibrate as you shocked both you and him by slamming a hand against the desk in frustration.

“For God’s sake, Katsuki open your fucking eyes!” You only used his first name when your emotions were high, and that made the man’s hands shake in anger as he watched your outburst.

“She forgot your anniversary! She doesn’t make you your favorite food— fuck she doesn’t even kiss you unless there’s a shitty camera around!” You stood up, stomping your feet and watching as he stood up quickly after you and scowled over at your angry face.

“She doesn’t care enough to remember shit that you don’t like which is why you always end up at stupid shit like this and she doesn’t even care to meet your friends!” Your voice was now loud, the music of the cafeteria being long forgotten as you huffed over at him and slammed a finger into his chest at every syllable you spoke.

“You want to know what I think about her, Bakugou? Bestfriend to bestfriend?” The words bestfriend seethed through your lips like venom as your finger dug itself into the middle of his pecks. He said nothing, waiting for you to continue as his hands balled into fists along his sides.

“I think that you’re such a fucking pussy, you can’t fathom being with someone who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on the way she does.” You growled, narrowing your eyes at his angry expression as you took a step closer to him threateningly.

“I think you hate the fact that I’m right— the fact that she blatantly uses you and doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you hate the fact that I know you so well enough to know that—”

Before the last few letters of the words could slip through your lips, a warm hand slammed against your fingers and snatched it into his grasp as he began to huff in anger. The caramel smell only increased, and you could sense his quirk begin to flare the abnormal heat in his hands up every second.

“You don’t know shit,” he growled, his voice raising as he began to yell at you in your face, “you don’t know shit about me!”

“Are you shitting me?!” You exclaimed, grabbing at the hand that grasped yours with a grip so tight Bakugou had to glance at it quickly before reverting his eyes back to yours.

“I’ve known every little fucking thing about you since we were fifteen!” You yelled, tears threatening to spill down your eyes as the anger inside you finally erupted in a way you couldn’t control.

“Nobody asked you to be so invested in my fucking life anyway!” He retaliated, his voice booming through the room as you stared at him incredulously.

“I was so fucking invested in you because I’m fucking inlove with you, you idiot!”

Your voice silenced the room, the grip he had on your hand tightening as he stared at you with shocked eyes yet the same familiar scowl you were used to. Your expression never faltered the way his eyes did when he heard you, though. You stood your ground.

“It’s so annoying seeing the guy you are inlove with be so unhappy in a relationship because he feels as if he has no one else.” Your voice began to quiet down, a tear slipping down your eye as Bakugou watched you with a slightly softened face.

The hand gripping yours loosened a bit, still gripping it to his chest as he wrapped all his fingers around your bracelet covered wrist.

“It’s so annoying watching you try to force someone else to fall inlove with you, when I’ve been inlove with you for free for years. It hurts watching you try to force yourself to be inlove with a girl you know you don’t want to be with. It just fucking hurts Bakugou, so fucking bad.”

There was a crack in your voice that Bakugou knew all too well from the restless nights you’d spend together, and it didn’t take much for him to engulf your frame into a tight hug as he rested his head against yours. You dived into his chest, the familiar warmth wrapping around you in a way that made a few more tears slip from your eyes. You didn’t make a noise, but he knew that you were hurting.

Neither of you said anything, only holding each other until you removed yourself from him and wiped the tears off your face before he could see the evident streams marking your cheeks. He stared at you silently, as if he was contemplating something.

With timid eyes, he watched you fix the straps of your dress to find something to play with under his gaze. The silence was deafening, and was an unusual characteristic for the boy who always had something to say.

“You know she hates me, that’s why you never bring her around me.” You said, a tone of blankness carrying your voice through the room as your tears dried up and was replaced by the anger haunting your heart once again.

“No she doesn’t, she just feels like we’re too close.” Bakugou retorted, sighing and taking a seat on the chair he once occupied. You followed suit, leaning against the back of your own seat as you faced his body.

“Back in high school, I never told you this, but her and I argued in the bathroom once.” You informed, dryly chuckling as you watched his face contort with confusion.

“I told her that her pretty little face and fucked up manipulation wasn’t going to keep you around in the long run.” You stood quiet after letting him know, gulping some saliva down as you averted your gaze from his body to your painted nails. “Guess I was wrong.”

Bakugou didn’t know what to do. There were many things the man was capable of: he could destroy any villain in his way, was braver than any other fucking half assed hero out there, was smart as fuck, and could manage a relationship as well as being a top pro-hero because that’s just who he was.

What he couldn’t do, though, was fully digest the situation in front of him.

He bit his lip, running a hand across his face in frustration and staring meekly at your face. You couldn’t help but admire his frame as you did before. He was strong, well-built, smelled good, had great posture— there was nothing wrong with him. It was almost surreal.

“We’ve been dating for like two years.” Bakugou’s low voice broke the silence as he stared deep into your now glazed over eyes. You didn’t break the contact, hands rested against each side of the seat as you watched him speak.

“I’ve been dating her for two years and yet...” His words were lost, almost sounding as if he was hesitating the very same way you were earlier. You said nothing though, knowing he would stop expressing himself if you had opened your mouth.

“And yet I can’t help but imagine she was someone else.”

It was like every word he said was the last glass of water, and you drank it up against your skin in a way that brought goosebumps to his. You furrowed your eyebrows, silently signaling for him to continue.

“I never told you this,” he mocked your voice, his scowl still resting against his soft face, “but there was a time where I thought about what it would be like if we were a shitty thing.”

Everyone always assumed Bakugou and you would end up together. Whether it be from watching you both pin are each other relentlessly, to watching you fawn over him, and from just watching your interactions with one another— it almost seemed destined for you two to work out. Keyword: almost.

“Shitty Hair and Dunce-Face tell me all the fucking time that I’m an idiot for choosing this girl over you.” He scoffed, and you couldn’t help but feel your stomach tingle at the use of the name ‘this girl’ for his own girlfriend. “It’s not like I wanted to, you were always my first option.”

You stood quiet. The last sentence was lower than the others and sounded way more vulnerable. You couldn’t help but gape at him, repeating it in your brain as if they was the last words you’d ever hear again. You were always my first option.

Maybe it was the buzz you felt from the energy within the room, maybe you were drunk on adrenaline, or maybe you were just being a fucking dumbass, but the way your feet moved you from your seat to the desk he was sitting at was something you just couldn’t stop in time.

Bakugou hasn’t said anything beyond what he just finished as he watched you gently push his body away and hop up onto the desk. Your body was now inches away from his as you watched him shyly. You were always so obnoxiously close to him, so why is it that his stomach was throwing fireballs at his insides now?

“You deserve better, Katsu..” You lowly began, fiddling with the rings on your fingers as you glanced over at his body through your dark eyelashes. “Does she take care of you?”

Your words hit him in the chest and he couldn’t find it within himself to look away from you. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how you were doing it, but he was entranced by your every word and it was scaring the shit out of him. He found himself shaking his head, eyes never leaving yours as the scowl in his face began to soften.

“You’re a strong man, Katsu,” the way his nickname slipped from your lips nearly made him melt, the unfamiliar feelings he was so used to suppressing caused his head to jumble around and process your words, “you need someone who takes care of you the right way.”

You watched him, a hand lifting towards his head and running itself through his soft yet spikey hair. Bakugou always claimed he hated it when you played with his hair since that was something he thought no one was close enough to be able to touch, but he always seemed to lean into you unknowingly.

His chair scooted closer to the table, your legs now in between his lazily opened ones and his body aching to go closer into your touch.

“What are you suggesting?” His dark voice questioned, eyes staring at you as the once softened expression transformed into another of a slowly rising mischievous smirk. You were sure you were breathing earlier, but now? Not so much.

“Are you suggesting that I need someone else to take care of me?” His words hit you hard, your body facing whiplash from all the sudden changes of emotion.

You looked down shyly, trying to find the confidence you once had that was now lost in the gush of your flustered moment, yet Bakugou’s calloused, warm hand then reached up to your chin to perk it up to face his now standing body.

“Are you saying that you should be the one taking care of me?” He asked, staring at your eyes with more intensity than you were fully even prepared for. Your eyes dug into his as the feeling of his hands on your chin caused your brain to short circuit for a moment.

“You said it yourself, I’m a strong man.” You could feel the confidence drip from his words as you bit your left cheek to keep from whimpering at the intensity laced within the empty classroom. “I need someone to take care of me the right way, and I don’t think this girl is doing it Y/N.”

The use of your name caused you to tug your bottom lip between your teeth and blush behind his words. You didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly zipped from your eyes to your mouth, and back to your eyes once again. His body was now towering over your seated one, looking down at you as if you were the only person in the world at this moment.

Bakugou was out of it, to say the least. Usually he felt as if he had control over situations like this, but even with towering over your frame and his hand gripping your chin, he felt as if you were in complete control of the situation. He knew that his current girlfriend was probably coming to look for him, and he knew that everything was inevitable and he was simply just prolonging it.

That didn’t stop him from sliding his hand across your neck to grip the back of it and pull your face in towards him.

A kiss was the last thing you were expecting, and you would have gasped if his lips weren’t putting you in such a trance. It was like everything had stopped, time stopped, the dance stopped, everything was just on a hiatus.

His tongue danced against yours in a way that made you whimper lowly into his touch. His hands explored your body, rubbing against you in exasperated motions as you reciprocated by rubbing your hands across his chest, shoulders, and waist. It was like you were both doing the last thing you’d do before the world came to an end.

His lips moved feverishly across your own as tilted your head upwards to get a more comfortable position. A warm yet equally rough hand snaked it’s way back onto your neck and gripped your throat with such possession, you felt a tingle reach your lower half.

The intensity of the make out was one that put every other sound to shame as the room was filled with nothing but the small whimpers coming from either of you and the sound of your lips smacking against his. It was like a dream, and Bakugou couldn’t control himself any longer as he groaned into your touch.

It wasn’t until a gasp broke the seductive silence within the room, as well as pushed the two of you apart only to see his girlfriend staring at the two of you with wide eyes and a fizzy drink in both of her hands., that you realized something.

Shit just got really fucking complicated.

—

back to masterlist

I wanna have an angsty kiss moment with bakugou

>:( damnit anyways yeah like, reblog, comment, follow! thanks for reading! don’t forget to send some requests in <3

- heilly

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just-jordie-things · 4 years

Text

All I Need My Baby (And A Cigarette) - Stanley Barber

word count: 12,795 warnings: swearing summary: (y/n) (y/l/n) and Stanley Barber may be neighbors, but they haven’t been friends since they were children. Stan plans on changing that, even if (y/n) is a bit more of a popular girl now. He’s pretty convincing though... and charming... + based (very loosely) on this song ___

[ i never read ya ]

“Hey, sunshine!”

When (y/n) answered the phone, she wasn’t expecting such a delighted voice on the other end. She honestly thought that it was going to be Dina, calling her to invite her over, maybe even to go dress shopping, since homecoming was just a week away.

But of course it wasn’t Dina. Dina was busy. With Brad.

“Stanley?” She asked, confused to have heard his voice. “How’d you even get my number?”

Stanley Barber was… well, he was a strange guy. They lived on the same street, with Sydney Novak’s house just a block away from his. Because of their proximity, she’d known him her whole life.

When they were kids, they’d walk to school together. She supposed their parents didn’t want them walking by themselves at such a young age. When they were in middle school, they had a few classes together, and more often than not, would partner up. Since they were both outcasts, it was easier than trying to find someone who wanted to work with them. She found a certain comfort in having Stan around and always willing to work with her.

And now, in high school, he made it a point to say hi to her on her walk home from school. Sometimes he’d even walk with her, usually telling her about his weird day, sometimes giving her a record to listen to. But she wasn’t the same person that she was when they were kids. She had grown up a lot, matured. And with that came a natural beauty that the people at school flocked to. With beauty comes popularity, and so he didn’t see her around as much.

They were friends, kind of. They were friendly acquaintances.

But not close enough for him to be calling her.

“Syd gave it to me,” He answered. “You want to come over?”

“What?” She asks, like she didn’t understand the question.

She finally sits up from bed, since she’d been laying there since she got home from school. Pulling the cord on her phone with her, she looked over at the clock. 8:15.

“It’s kinda late” She says, like that’s the only reason stopping her from going over to his house right now. They got along, but they didn’t hang out together, and she’s certainly never been over to his house.

“So?” He replied. “It’s the perfect time of night for a drive”

“A drive?” She asks. “You don’t have any other friends to ask?”

“If I wanted to ask someone else, why would I ask you?”

“That doesn’t make sense” (y/n) sighed, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes.

“You want to hang out or not?” He asked.

She mulled it over for a minute, weighing her options. It was either stay in bed the rest of the night, or go hang out with an almost total stranger.

“Alright,” She sighed, kicking off her blankets. “I’ll be there in a few minutes”

“Great!” He replied, before hanging up the phone.

As she got up to go, she wondered if she should change, since she’d worn these clothes all day and then came home and slept in them. But it was just Stanley, who cared if Stanley thought she looked like a hobo in her messed up sweater and jeans.

So with that, she pulled on her shoes and headed out the door.

It was pretty chilly for september, so she walked quickly to Stan’s house. And when she arrived, he opened the door before she could even knock.

He looked neat and disheveled all at once. In a tee shirt and bright yellow cardigan, paired with trousers, and… bare feet. She couldn’t decide what was more odd, his lack of shoes or the sunglasses on his head even though the sun had already set. She gave him a confused once over, but he spoke before she could.

“Ready?” He asked, an excited grin on his face.

“I guess” (y/n) shrugged back.

He nods, walking outside and shutting the door behind him.

“I know a really great place to smoke, if you want. If you smoke, I don’t wanna like, peer pressure you, or anything” He suggested as they walked up to his car.

“You’re not going to wear shoes?” (y/n) asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Nah, who needs em” Was all he said, before opening the passenger door for her.

(y/n) thanks him quietly as she gets in.

His car smells like pot, and somehow, fruit. Something citrusy that she can’t quite place. It’s a strange combination, but something about it was all the more perfect for his car.

Stan gets into the driver's seat, and starts the car with an eager bounce. (y/n) can’t help but chuckle a bit.

Stanley Barber was one odd duck.

“So have you thought about uh, you know, homecoming?” He asked, drumming his thumbs on the wheel.

“Homecoming?” (y/n) repeats softly. “No, why?”

“Just wondering,” Stan replied with a shake of his head. “You know, cause some people are already asking dates, and stuff”

“It’s kinda far out” She mumbles, eyes casting out the window.

“Well, you know, a week,” Stan responds. “But yeah, it’s so weird that it’s our last one”

“I’m pretty relieved. Dances aren’t really my thing”

“I guess its your last chance to make it your thing,” He says. “If you wanted to”

(y/n) looks over to him curiously, and for a second she thinks that he’s asking her to homecoming, before she realizes that it’s a dumb thing to assume, and she shakes her head.

“I don’t want to” She answers.

She wonders if this is enjoyable for him. Sitting in near silence with her, and only getting short answers. Sure, she knows she could be more talkative, if she wants to. But she didn’t understand why he wanted to hang out with her of all people.

Finally he parks the car, and she looks up to see that they’re parked under an overpass, in front of a large graffitied painting reading Brownsville on the cement wall. Her brows furrow as she gets out of the car and follows him up to the wall.

“Why here?” She asks, and Stan hoists himself up on the ledge.

She mimics him, sitting next to him while he fumbles through his pockets. She just watches him, a curious glint in her eye. But it felt the longer she spent trying to figure him out, the harder it was. Like his personality was changing every five minutes.

He pulled out a case, and popped it open to reveal to her a couple of blunts, and a lighter.

“You smoke often?”

“No,” She hums in response, taking the blunt and lighter when he offers them to her. “Not in a year, actually. I kinda… uh… stopped”

She puts the blunt to her mouth and flicks the lighter, before taking in a deep breath, inhaling for as long as she could hold it. She handed them back to him, before letting out a slow exhale, and watching the smoke dissipate into the air.

“And here I am pressuring you into smoking again?” He asked, taking a quick puff.

“It’s not like that,” She said quietly, shaking her head. “I just um… never really felt like it anymore,” She continued. “And I think that once I realized I was on my own I didn’t want to risk um… feeling worse, you know? Like I didn’t want those feelings amplified,”

Stanley nods, but he doesn’t comment. That was the most she’d said to him all day, and it felt… heavy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“We should hang out more often,” He says before she could regret opening up. “I don’t know why we haven’t before”

She looks over at him, taking the blunt when he offers it to her. Her brows are knitted together, but there’s an awkward smile on her face, like she was trying to conceal it but it slipped out anyways.

“Because we’re strangers” She answered, looking down at the half-smoked blunt in her fingers, before taking another hit.

“We’re neighbors” Stanley said, like it was supposed to change everything, and make them friends.

“Not really,” (y/n) shrugged. “I’m a couple houses down from you”

“So?” He replied. “We grew up together, we walked to school together. In the movies we’d be, like, best friends by now. Probably even dating”

Her head jerks around, a wild and confused look in her eye as she tried and failed to hold back a laugh.

“Dating?” She repeats. “You and I? Did you not hear the part about us being strangers?”

Stan chuckles, and takes the last hit of the blunt.

“I’m just saying” He says nonchalantly.

“You could be an axe murderer” Her voice is softer than it should be, and she’s suddenly too shy to look at him.

They sit in silence for a moment, both gazing out at the dark town, trying to find the stars in the cloudy sky. It feels like it should be a beautiful night, but it isn’t. It’s cold and foggy. It’s ugly.

“But you came out with me anyways” Stanley speaks up, far too delayed.

(y/n) looks at him again, a smile tugging on her lips, betraying her. She doesn’t look away this time, she just keeps smiling at him.

They walk around town for a while, even though everywhere is closed, and after smoking another blunt they’re a bit too faded to do anything anyways. So they just talk, and enjoy the silence when it would settle between them.

“What’s your favorite band?” Stan asks, while (y/n) is balancing herself on the curb of the sidewalk.

Her arms are outstretched as she takes each step, wobbling a bit more than she would have had she been sober.

“I don’t know, it changes a lot,” She answers. “Maybe Tame Impala. Or Cage The Elephant”

“Good answers,” Stan says, while he’s skipping between walking on the curb with you and walking on the street. “Now you get to ask a question”

“Alright…” She muses, letting her mind wander to a good thing to ask him.

She knows she could string together any words and he would be eager to answer, but she racks her brain for a good idea anyways.

“Will you move when you’re older?” She asks him.

He’s walking in the street now, but he’s so tall that when she turns to look at him she’s barely looking down.

“Like, out of Brownsville?” He asks, and she nods. “Well ideally, of course. Wouldn’t you?”

She nods, but something about the way her eyes softened lead him to believe that she wasn’t so sure.

“There’s not a whole lot of opportunity here, don’t you think?” Stan says, “I mean, what are your options for a career? Working at the school? Or waitressing? That’s not a life for me. I’d be a terrible waitress”

“You’d be a waiter, Stan” She says, but he dismisses the idea.

“No way, I’m moving outta here first chance I get”

“Do you know where you’re going to college?” She murmurs, but he ignores that too.

“It’s my turn for a question, don’t break the rules,” He chided playfully. “What’re you doing tomorrow?”

“That’s your question?” She giggles, still the tiniest bit high.

“You have to answer it, it’s the rules”

“Yeah yeah,” She shakes her head. “Maybe going to Ricky Berry’s party, I don’t know”

“Really? You?”

“Doesn’t that count as a question-?”

“You just don’t seem like the party type,” He says before she can scold him for breaking his own rules. “Since you have a thing against fun”

“What? I don’t have anything against fun-” Again, he doesn’t let her finish.

“You do too,” He argues. “You hate homecoming, you didn’t want to hang out tonight, you’re a funsucker”

(y/n) laughs, and shoves at his shoulder, effectively losing her own balance and stumbling to walk in the street by his side now. Neither of them say anything as their arms swing against each other from their close proximity.

“I am not,” She mutters. “I just don’t have… friends”

“What? Yes you do”

“No I don’t” She replies with a bitter laugh.

“You have more friends than me,” Stan says. “Aren’t you buddies with Dina? You’re a popular girl you know”

“Me?” She laughs again, shaking her head wildly. “No, no I’m not,”

She wishes she’d brought a jacket, had she known they’d be walking around town in this weather then she would have. But she settles for wrapping her arms around herself to preserve warmth.

“And I’m not really Dina’s friend anymore” She adds in a softer voice.

“Oh” Is all Stan can think to say. He doesn’t know how to ask her what happened without making it awkward, so he doesn’t.

It’s quiet again as they head back to his car, but not totally uncomfortable. She’s getting used to being in silence with Stan, and finds that it’s nicer than being in silence at home alone.

“Are your parents gonna be upset that you were kept out late by a possible axe murderer?” He asks when they get in the car.

“No,” She says with a small giggle. “They’re out of town on a joint business trip”

“Oh, cool” He says, nodding his head.

“They have been for the past week,” (y/n) adds.

Oh.

“Sometimes I wonder if sometime they’ll go and just… not come back”

Oh.

“You could move in with me” Stan suggests, without really thinking. He wants to blame it on the pot, but his high wore off twenty minutes ago.

She turns to him, that same confused look on her face that she kept giving him earlier. The words linger in her mind for a minute before she lets out a soft laugh, and shakes her head.

“You’re so strange, Stanley Barber” She muses

[ you said i’m different, i’m difficult ]

Ricky Berry was not a friend of (y/n’s), although more often than not he did seem to think he was. Like right now, approaching her in the living room, offering her a bottle of beer.

“No, thanks” She says, pushing the bottle away.

“Since when do you not drink?” He asks with a smirk, the kind that makes her want to slap him until it goes away.

Her brows furrow and she clenches her jaw.

“I’m not in the mood” She forces out between her teeth.

Ricky puts his hands up as though he’s surrendering, and this only deepens her newfound hatred for the boy. She didn’t hate him before, she just didn’t like him and his rich-kid bullshit personna. And she didn’t like the way he treated her like there was something between them, like they’d ever been friends. They were hardly acquaintances. She couldn’t tell you a damn thing about him besides that he was on the football team, and she only knew that because of the way he paraded around town in his dumb letterman’s jacket.

He chuckles, drawing her back to reality from the dark thoughts currently swimming in her mind. Like what it would feel like to break her hand punching him in the face.

“Are you enjoying the party?” He asked her, and before she could even answer he spoke up again. “Did you come alone?”

Her eyes narrow on his figure for a moment, before she regained control of her disgust.

“I was having a fine time,” She lies. “And no, I didn’t” She lies again.

“You brought a date?” Ricky asks with a chuckle, like he doesn’t believe her.

And he doesn’t believe her, because as beautiful as the enigma that was (y/n) (y/l/n) was, she was unattainable, and he knew that better than anyone else. She was an anti-social rose. Pretty, but didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone.

“Maybe,” She answers bluntly, quirking a brow at him. “What’s it to you?”

Ricky mistakes her irritation for flirtation, and makes the poor choice of grinning down at her, and taking a bold step forward. Without hesitation, she steps back, putting the foot of space between them again.

“Well, had I known you were finally looking for someone to bring you to these sorts of events, you know, as sort of a… boyfriend figure… I would have applied for the position”

She knows he’s trying to be suave, but she can’t help the bubbling laughter that almost erupts from her chest. She’s lucky to have contained it shaking her head and looking away from him. She can’t believe he’s this much of a tool, it’s almost too amusing.

As she looks away from him, her eyes catch another figure, and her mood lifts instantly.

Stanley’s standing in the middle of the living room, wearing the cutest baby blue suit she’s ever seen. He looks very out of place, and a bit lost, but when his eyes meet hers, he seems to relax, and he gives her a welcoming grin.

“- and anyways, I think I’d be an excellent choice for you, (y/n). I mean, let's be real, you’re royalty, I’m royalty, and we’re a perfect match. I could treat you like a princess, you know-”

“Gotta go,” (y/n) says, holding a hand up to Ricky’s face to silence him, already turning to head away from him. “Oh, also, your application has been rejected, so sorry,” She tells him with a giggle that she just couldn’t hold back. “You just weren’t a good fit”

She’s still laughing as she wanders off towards Stan, who seems puzzled by her laughter, but he’s just glad she approached him.

“Wow…” She says, looking him up and down. “Look at you”

“It’s nice, right?” He asks, smoothing his hands over the lapels of the jacket.

(y/n) nods, raising her eyebrows and grinning as she looks back up at him.

“So, what’re you doing here?” She asks him. “I didn’t peg you as the party type either”

“I’m not any type,” Stan shrugs. “I just felt like getting out of the house, and here is better than sitting at the overpass by myself”

“You want to snag a couple drinks and get out of here?” She asks, and the shock on his face makes her laugh, and quickly shake her head. “Not like that, dork,” She says, “Let’s just take this party somewhere else, it’s not my scene”

“It-it’s not my scene either” He agrees, and she grins.

He likes this side of (y/n). The bubbly side, where she smiles and laughs and isn’t so afraid to talk to him like she had been before.

As he followed behind her to the kitchen so they could steal a couple bottles of anything they could get their hands on, he couldn’t help but look her over.

She’d swapped out her sweater and mom-jeans for a black sheer long sleeved button down, and much skinnier jeans. He had to force himself to look away before studying the shirt enough to see her skin beneath it. Not that it was hard, it was a very light and see-through material.

He wondered for a minute if she wore it to be looked at, and then his mind wandered off to the image of her and Ricky talking a few minutes ago, and how close they were standing.

“Are you and Ricky like… a thing?” He asked.

Her head popped up from where she’d gone digging through the fridge.

“What?” She asks, exasperated from a question that shouldn’t have been difficult. “No, gross” Her brows furrow and her lips curl into a slight snarl, and Stan feels relief spread through him that she looks so disgusted by the idea.

She hands him two bottles, and snags two of her own, and then points towards the back door so they could sneak out easily.

“Do you know any other good hiding places?” She asks, pushing her hair back behind her ears when the breeze whips it in her face.

“I know lots of great hiding places,” He responds. “But I think I have the best idea for a new one”

“Great” (y/n) grins, and they get into his car to drive off to another mystery place.

It’s chilly, but she rolls the window down, and leans her head out of it to enjoy the night. The clouds from last night had disappeared, revealing the stars, and she grins as her eyes count them. It’s useless, but it passes the time, because Stan’s been driving for a while.

He keeps casting glances over at her, letting his mind wander to all the beautiful things about her he’s never really noticed before. Sure, she was gorgeous, that was common knowledge. You only needed eyes to know that.

He hadn’t gotten to see her in the moonlight last night, and he sure is glad that he can now. Her eyelashes cast shadows over her cheekbones, which, in this lighting, are even more defined and frame her whole face like she’s the subject of a painting.

He thinks she should be the subject of a painting.

Her hair flies around from the wind, but she’s given up on holding it back, and just let’s it do whatever it wants. Every few minutes her eyes would close contently, and he wondered what thoughts she was getting lost in, but he didn’t ask, he lets them be private.

When he finally stops the car, (y/n) looks out to see where he’s taken them.

“The water tower?” She asks, helping him with the beer.

“Yep” He replies with a proud grin, and heads up to it.

As she watches him go, her eyes catch to where he’s heading to, and she jogs to catch up to his side.

“We’re going up there?” She asks when he steps onto the first rung of the ladder.

Her eyes wander up to it’s height, and she feels dizzy just looking at the ledge that the ladder leads to.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” He asks her, putting a beer bottle in each of his pockets.

“No,” She answers him quickly. “I just… don’t want to climb a hundred feet on a fifty year old ladder” She adds in a weaker voice.

“Do you want to go first?” He asks, stepping off the ladder and gesturing for her to go ahead.

“What, am I supposed to believe you’ll catch me if I fall?” She asks in a bored tone.

“At least I could break your fall” Stan shrugs, and she laughs nervously.

With one more glance up to the top, she lets out a shaky sigh, and nods her head.

“Okay” She mumbles.

She tucks the bottle of beer in her jeans, neck first. They hit her stomach awkwardly with every bar she climbs, but there’s no way she’s getting up there and not drinking.

“You’re doing great!” Stan calls from a few feet below her.

“Please don’t encourage me” She says, and keeps up the motion of climbing as best she can.

She doesn’t want to look down, or outwards. She doesn’t want to look up either, but that’s better than seeing how far from the ground she is. It takes quite a while to get to the top, and when she grabs the last bar, she lets out a cheer, and quickly scrambles onto the ledge.

There’s about three feet of metal landing that sticks out from the water tower itself, and much to her relief it’s surrounded by a barred gate. She’s quick to sit down, taking the bottles out of her jeans and placing them beside her, while he wraps her arms over the bar.

Stan sits beside her not long after, cracking open one of his drinks and smiling widely at her. She opens one of her beers as well, and clinks her bottle against his while he’s drinking from it.

“I can’t believe you got me to come up here” She sighs, swinging her legs around comfortably.

“It didn’t take that much convincing,” He told her. “Give yourself some credit, you came up here on your own choice”

He smiles at her like he’s proud of her, and makes a blush dust along her cheeks.

“You’re right, that was really brave of me,” She said, only partially teasing. “But I wouldn’t have come up here if it wasn’t for the company,” She tells him sweetly. “So thanks, Stan”

She touches her bottle to his again as though to cheers to him.

“Right back at you” He says, trying to be slick, but he’s getting nervous and his voice is softer than he intends it to be.

It’s quiet, and (y/n) leans forward to rest her chin on top of her arms, still holding onto the bar. She’s enjoying the view, the peace and quiet. This is the perfect hiding spot.

“The height doesn’t seem so bad once you’re up here,” She murmurs, and Stan hums in agreement. “I feel like it works that way with everything. Things aren’t so bad once you get through them, you know?” She’s thinking aloud, not looking for a response, or even an acknowledgement of her letting her thoughts run free. “I hope it’s like that with this Dina thing. Like once I move on and tell myself I’m enough for me, it’ll be easier,”

She looks over to Stan now, but his eyes are trained upwards, scanning over the stars. She smiles at him, even though he doesn’t see.

“And I think it’ll be easier now that I’ve met you,”

He looks at her once she says that, his cheeks pink, and his brown eyes rounded with curiosity and hope at her gentle words. They remind her of a doe’s eyes, if only for a moment.

“I’m glad I met you,” She hums. “Like, really met you. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you sooner”

“It only would’ve made you run away sooner” He jokes, a short laugh falling from his lips, but he can’t laugh too much because she just said the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him and his heart is swelling up like a balloon in his chest.

She giggles with him, but shakes her head.

“Nah, I wouldn’t have,” She says, and then takes a long drink of her beer. “You have too many good hiding places in plain daylight to run away. Hiding right in front of people is what I’ve been dying for, you know”

“Like Ricky?” He asks before thinking.

The soft smile on her face falls, but she clears her throat and tries her best to neutralize her expression. But she tries too hard, and Stan notices.

“Yeah,” She mumbles. “But I guess from everyone now,”

She looks away from him, gazing with a heartbreaking fondness out at the sleeping town before her. From the thick land of trees they’d driven through to get here, to the dimly lit houses, the old buildings. She always thought Brownsville looked like the generic sort of town you could slap onto a postcard and say it was from anywhere in the midwest.

“I used to be able to be myself with Dina,” She said, almost out of nowhere. “She was my best friend, it’s what she’s there for right?” She asks with a bitter chuckle. “And then Brad asks her out and… steals her away from me”

(y/n) leans forward to rest her head on her arms again.

“That’s… bullshit,” Stan says. “Sorry, that’s probably not what you want to hear”

“No, you’re right,” The girl whispers. “It is bullshit. Because we promised we wouldn’t change for each other, but now… now she’s popular and going to football games and pep rallies and- and that’s just not me. I don’t know if it's her either… maybe it is now, I don’t know… I’m sorry, I don’t mean to vent-”

“It’s fine,” Stan says quickly. “You can vent as much as you want. It’s just us up here, might as well get it out of your system, right?”

She grins over at him, and raises her glass before finishing it off.

“Anything you have to vent about, then, Stanley Barber?” She questions.

“Nope,” He shrugs after thinking about it for a minute. “For the first time in a while, I actually kind of like my life. I like that my dad’s gone 25 days out of the month, I like getting to know you, I feel good”

Her grin only widens at the compliment, and she’s blushing again but she’s not as embarrassed by it this time.

They opened up their second bottles, and clicked them together as the last toast for the night.

“To liking life,” (y/n) muses. “And to us, of course” She adds.

“Cheers,” Stan nods before they both take a drink. “So here’s my first question of the night”

“Shoot”

“What’s Ricky Berry want with you, anyway?” He asks. “Like… is he actually into you or are you a conquest- oh my god, I take that back, I don’t mean it like-”

His nervous ramblings stop when (y/n) begins to giggle, almost choking on her drink.

“No, no, you’re good, I don’t take offense,” She assures him. “Ricky Berry is… well, besides a tool, he’s a character, in the book of my life,”

The drinks are starting to get to her, just a little bit.

“He’s the guy that tries and tries and tries, and he grows and learns from his mistakes, learns what I don’t want to hear and what’s not working, but somehow, he just finds ways to make new mistakes. Not once has he asked me out in a coherent- or even normal- manner. It’s always some line, or some dumb look that he tries”

“How long has this been going on?” Stan asks, his brows furrowed a bit.

The idea of Ricky ‘Icky’ Berry asking (y/n) out repeatedly pisses him off.

“Nuh uh, it’s my turn for a question,” (y/n) murmurs, drinking as she thought. “Oh, I know. What’s your favorite memory?”

“Easy. When mom was around and she’d make blueberry pancakes before school,” He says, maybe too fast. “It sounds sad, but… no one could make them like her”

She gives him a warm smile, and reaches out to set her hand over top of his from where it was lying at his side.

“It’s not sad. It’s sweet. That’s a really good favorite memory”

He nods, reminiscing in the pleasant image in his head.

“Your turn now,” He says abruptly, not wanting to get lost in his own thoughts. “How long has Ricky been chasing you around?”

“Oh, I don’t know, two years now, maybe?” She muses. “I try not to pay him too much mind. It’s not so important to me”

“Yeah, but… it’s kinda gross that he’s so persistent” Stan says with a cringe.

“You think so?” (y/n) asks. “I mean, it’s annoying, but it’s never been, like, aggressive, or anything”

“Don’t you think it's the constant hitting on you that makes it aggressive though?” Stan asks. “I mean, he knows you’re not interested, he should… um… stop” His voice gets quieter towards the end of his sentence, and he’s worried he’s crossed a line, since (y/n’s) gone silent.

“I guess so,” She finally whispers after a long moment. “I never really thought of it like that”

She takes a few drinks of her beer before setting it down, and moving on to her own question.

“Do you and your dad not get along?”

“Nope,” He answers with a bark of a laugh. “We never have. Sometimes I think when I was born he changed his mind on having a baby, and held it against me personally. But it’s okay. I resent him too and I barely have to see him. So. Win-win”

She wants to be sad for him, because it’s unfortunate that Stan doesn’t get along with the only parent he has left. But he just seems so… happy. And she can tell he’s come to terms with it. So instead she puts on a happy face, because she’s happy for him that he’s made his peace.

She’d like to make her peace with her parents some day.

“Your turn” She murmurs.

“Alright. What’s your deepest, darkest secret, (y/n) (y/l/n)?”

She raises her brows at the bold question, and the use of her full name, but she thinks it over carefully.

“And no lying!” He hastily adds. “That’s not in spirit of the game”

“My deepest darkest secret…”

There’s lots of secrets she could share. Secrets of her own, secrets of her parents, the few friends she had, hell, her whole life had been keeping secrets. But now that Stan was asking for one, she didn’t know what to say.

“I used to dream about running away,” She settles. “It probably started when I turned seven, that’s when my parents started talking about having another baby, to feel satisfied again. I was pretty young to feel so…”

She blanks on the word she’s looking for, and Stan’s nervous to hear what it was.

“...worthless,” She finishes in a murmur. “So I would walk up to the bus stops in town, memorize their schedules, just in case I ever needed to make a quick break. And as I got older I… entertained the idea a little more. Leaving earlier for school, just to walk long, new paths, ones I could use someday to skip town without anyone knowing. And when I would walk home I would stall, wander more new places, anything to keep me from seeing them so soon,”

She smiles to herself, remembering the little adventures through Brownsville she would take when she was younger.

“One time after school, I walked around town until six o’clock,” She told him. “When I got home, I told my mom I was with a teacher and had to stay late,” She licked her lips as her eyes met his, a small, watery smile on her lips. “She checked the time, she hadn’t realized I was home so late- three hours late,” She whispered. “I was ten”

“Jesus Christ,” Stan muttered.

His hand twitched under hers. He wants to hold her hand, properly, fingers intertwined, but he was nervous she’d pull away from him if he made the move.

“Why didn’t you run away?”

“That’s a good question,” She says with a bittersweet laugh. “I don’t know. I certainly wanted to… hell, maybe I still do,”

She glances at him again, before whispering.

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll stay a little longer”

He smiles back at her, and he can’t help but let his eyes wander the features of her face.

“So,” (y/n) lets out a short sigh, before asking, “What’s your deepest darkest secret, then?”

“Don’t laugh,” Stan groans. “And compared to yours, this is lame as fuck. But… I have bacne”

(y/n) raises a brow, and she does have to hold back a laugh because she can’t believe that’s all he’s got.

“What?”

“Yeah”

“Like…”

“Like zits on my back and shit, yeah. It sucks. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever gone through, and that’s saying something, (y/n),” She giggles at his dramatic tone, covering her mouth with the hand that wasn’t laid over his. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. There’s no cure, I’ve done everything possible. I just have to hope adulthood fixes me”

She’s still laughing, to the point where when it finally dies down, she has to take deep breaths.

He watches her shoulders rise and fall in sync with her chest, and how her fingers reach to her eyes to wipe away the tears that had welled in them from laughing so hard. And still, he thinks she’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

She pushes her hair behind her ears, and turns to him once she’s calmed down, only to find his eyes are already focused on her.

“What?” She murmurs, a hint of a smile tugging on the corner of her lips.

“I… uh… I have my next question” He says, eyes flickering between hers, and the grond far, far below them.

“Go for it” (y/n) grins, eager to hear what strange thing he’s come up with this time.

“Will you, um, if you want, would you want to maybe, um, go to homecoming?” He asks, and it’s choppy, but he lets out a short breath of relief for just getting it out in the right words. “With me?” He adds as an afterthought.

The smile on her face slowly falls, and despite her heart beating profoundly in her chest, she lifts her hand away from his.

He regrets it. He wants to take it back but he knows he can’t, not without humiliating himself any further. He wishes that he could pinch himself and wake up in bed, and find that tonight was just some wild dream meant to lift and then crush his spirits.

It wasn’t a dream, but his spirits were still very crushed.

“Stan…” She whispers, and he prepares himself for the blow.

I don’t like you like that. You’re just a friend. Why’d you have to make this weird?

No matter what she ended up saying, it would hurt the same.

“It’s fine, I get it” He shakes his head, not even wanting to hear her excuse.

“You shouldn’t… it’s just…” (y/n) sighs, and closes her eyes while trying to find the right words. “You just shouldn’t get involved with me, that’s all,” She whispers so softly that it’s a faint mumble to his ears. “It’s complicated… I’m complicated”

You aren’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it.

“It’s really fine. I know it’s not your thing” He says, just wishing she’d stop trying to make him feel better.

“Yeah,” She mumbles. “You should go with someone that wants to go and- and have a good time with you, you know?” She says. “Someone that will actually dance and not just sit on the bleachers”

He looks over at her, forcing a smile on his face.

“And here I thought that you weren’t as much of a funsucker tonight,” He teases, making her smile too. “You really sit during dances?”

“The one that I went to, yes,” She laughs quietly. “It’s really not my thing,”

It’s comfortable between them again, which they’re both incredibly grateful for. But Stanley’s hopes are still ruined. He’d really thought she’d say yes, he had prepared earlier tonight, and even knowing that she had a thing against homecoming he’d thought that maybe he could be her exception. Apparently not.

She throws back the rest of her beer, hoping that the tension that she’s now created between them will go away on it’s own. It wasn’t Stanley’s fault, she knew it was her own for turning him down like that.

And truth was, a part of her did want to go to the dance with him. It actually sounded… nice. But the other part of her, the sensible part, reminded her of what she was getting into. She knew that she wasn’t the easiest person to be around, she would go out and have fun every once in a while, but eventually she’d hole herself back up in her room and be antisocial for weeks on end. Not to mention how bad it would get once her parents came back. Reflecting on herself, all she saw was drama, and problems. It wasn’t fair to Stan for her to involve him in her messy life.

“I have a question for you” She speaks after a few minutes of them drinking in quiet.

“I have an answer” He responds.

“How do you think I’m supposed to get down from here?”

Stan begins to laugh, and she lets out a few nervous giggles with him, but ultimately stares him down for an answer.

“I’m serious,” She said. “There’s no way in hell I’m climbing down that ladder”

Her eyes were wide and her brows were raised, waiting for him to give her some alternative solution to getting back down to earth. Which didn’t involve jumping, or the ladder.

“Oh shit, for real?” ___

[ you said i’m missing you ]

Over the next three days, (y/n) made it a point to see Stanley more often. In the halls she’d say hi, and if she had time to kill she’d walk with him to class and talk about all the random things he likes to talk about.

They hung out a few times in the library, and she started sitting with him at lunch too. It earned her a few looks, but no one said anything about it. Not that she cared, she enjoyed Stan’s company, and she wanted to seek it out more.

So on Wednesday night, instead of going to bed early, she decided instead to walk down to the bowling alley. She’d heard him complain enough about working there to remember, and thought it would be nice to surprise him.

She was surprised that the doors weren’t locked when she got there, since it closes at nine on weeknights, and it was nearing ten o’clock now. She could tell Stanley was surprised when she walked in, too.

“We’re closed- oh, hey” He smiled when he realized it was only her.

“I think part of the ‘locking up’ duties is actually locking up” She teases him as she wanders inside.

She’d never actually been to the bowling alley. To be there you either had to have been invited to a birthday party when you were a kid, or have friends and family to go with. She had neither.

When she takes a seat at the alley Stan’s currently cleaning up, it’s then that she notices the black and blue shiner on his eye. It’s a little faint, sure to disappear in a day or two, but once it catches her eye she can’t hold back the gasp.

“Oh my god, Stan, what happened?” She asked, already flying up from her seat to get a closer look.

He seems confused by what she’s asking for a moment, and then turns his head away before she can study it too hard.

“Nothing- it’s nothing, don’t worry about it” He tried dismissing it, picking up two of the bowling balls left behind.

(y/n) frowns as she watches him walk away to put them on the proper shelf.

“Stan,” She calls, her tone more demanding this time. “What happened? Who did that?”

“It seriously doesn’t matter, (y/n),” He responds, and she can tell he’s getting annoyed, but she doesn’t really care. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore”

Something about how his voice drops, and he can’t look at her while he busies himself with cleaning up, just gives her the answer. It clicks in her head like a lightbulb moment, and she finds herself grabbing his wrist so he’d stop moving and actually look at her for a minute.

“Was it your dad?” She asks, voice barely rising above a murmur.

She knows she’s right, she can feel it. She didn’t even know his father was back for the weekend, and it’s unexplainable who she assumed such a thing so quickly, but Stan’s sigh confirms her answer.

Her hand slips down from his wrist to grasp onto his, but he rips it away and walks back to the counter to continue cleaning.

“We don’t have to talk about it-”

“We’re not” He said before she could finish.

It’s not what she wants to hear, they both know that, but she doesn’t want to push him, so she doesn’t.

“Do you want any help cleaning up?” She offers instead, anything to ease his mind and help him out.

“I’m almost done,” He says while wiping down the front counter. “Just gotta lock up before I go”

She nods, and it goes silent between them while she stands and watches him work.

It’s not a comfortable silence, like she’d gotten used to with him. The air feels heavy, and she’s drowning herself in her own worries the longer she stands there. Stan can’t bring himself to look at her, he’s too ashamed, too nervous, and he knows that her eyes are full of tears and her brow is furrowed in concern- he thinks he might cry if he looks at her like that for too long.

“Stan?” She says softly, and he casts a short glance towards her, before quickly staring back down at the counter he’s wiping. “Could… could you drive me home?”

It’s a simple question, and she doesn’t necessarily need the ride. The walk to the bowling alley was a short ten minutes, and she didn’t mind walking at all. But she didn’t want to be alone, and more importantly, she didn’t want him to be alone. A ride home wouldn’t be too bad, anyways. She did live on his street.

“Yeah” He answers, just as quiet.

He finishes up cleaning, then motions for him to follow her out the door.

She walks close behind him, and waits patiently while he locks the front door. The walk silently to his car.

It’s weird that music is playing while neither of them say anything. She wants to turn it off, be in total silence. But maybe the music makes it less awkward for him.

The drive is short, and before she knows it he’s pulled up outside of her house.

“Thank you” She whispers out, but she’s still sitting in the passenger’s seat, and has made no move to open the door and get out.

“No problem” He mumbles back, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel while he waits.

She knows she has to either speak up or get out sooner than later, and it’s already been way too long to just sit here and do nothing. So she takes a deep breath and goes for it.

“You know that you can… you could always um… come stay with me,” She says, eyes flickering over to his anxiously. “If you wanted,” She added in a softer whisper. “My parents are out of town till the end of the week… so… you could stay until he’s gone”

He gives her a short, weak smile in response, and nods his head.

“Thanks,” He says quietly. “But uh… it’s fine. He leaves me alone, I mean, he’s got it out of his system, so…”

(y/n) nods her head uncomfortably, looking down at her lap and fiddling with her fingers.

“Yeah, yeah that’s good,” She mumbles. “I’ll see you at school”

She’s getting out of the car fast now, like she can’t do it fast enough, and Stan wants to kick himself as he watches her walk quickly into her house.

She was only trying to help, he thinks, before hitting his head down on top of the wheel and letting out a groan of frustration.

He’ll just have to make it up to her tomorrow. ___

[ they talkin’ now, just block em out ]

(y/n) doesn’t see Stan the next day at school. Not in the halls, not even in the classes that she might have snuck around to peek into that she knew he had. It was almost embarrassing, but she was worried about him. With his dad still in town, and their awkward parting last night, she was starting to get uncomfortable.

She sat alone at lunch. She could’ve sat with Dina, since Stanley was a no-show. But she looked pretty busy with Brad and the rest of the football team and cheerleading squad. And sitting alone was better than that.

She’d been picking around her plate for fifteen minutes now, and there was only another fifteen left in the lunch period. A part of her wanted to ditch school, maybe swing by his place to see if he was home, but she didn’t want to come across as stalker-y or anything-

“Hey, sunshine,”

The girl almost jumped out of her seat, looking up to see the boy himself plopping down at the table across from her.

“Stanley-!”

“I brought you, uh, something,” He said, handing over a brown paper bag. “It’s lunch”

There’s a smile on her face as she looks at it. He’d doodled all over it, flowers and smiles and dorky little scribbles, around the bold lettering that read (y/n’s) Lunch.

“Why?” She asks while opening it up.

“Um, I feel uh.. I feel really bad about last night,” He said anxiously, his hands patting against the tabletop. “So.. I made you lunch”

(y/n) giggles, pulling out a small tupperware container with a pre-peeled orange inside, and then a snack cake, and then a sandwich.

“What’s on this?” She asked, brows furrowing when he blushes.

“There’s actually three sandwiches in there,” He tells her. “I didn’t know what you liked…”

She giggles as she looks over her lunch options, and shakes her head.

“Stan, you didn’t have to-”

“Yeah, I- I did,” He says, and (y/n) hands him one of the sandwiches. “I’m really sorry, (y/n), I was just upset with my dad and I wish I hadn’t taken that out on you, you were only trying to help”

“It’s okay,” (y/n) assures, giving him a soft smile while enjoying her lunch. “I understand. It’s okay,” It’s quiet for a moment, before she adds, “Your eye is already looking better today”

He returns a weak smile, before nodding his head a little bit.

“Yeah. Good thing too. I don’t want to look stupid at homecoming”

With the cheesy grin that starts to appear on her face, he already knows what she’s going to say.

“I’m sure you’ll find another way to look stupid-“ She starts to tease him, but he’s not having it.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” He says abruptly.

(y/n) shakes her head at him while she laughs, prying open the orange he’d brought for her. She splits it in half and hands part of it to him.

“So I was thinking of asking Mercedes…” Stan says slowly, eyes trained on the orange. He’s too nervous to look at (y/n). “To homecoming”

Mercedes? She thinks. The holier-than-thou boring girl on the cheerleading squad?

“She’s cute!” (y/n) says encouragingly, her lips tugging into a tight, and rather forced, smile.

“Yeah,” Stan mumbles, and shrugs his shoulders like he’s not so sure. “She’s nice, I mean, we’re partners in Bio”

Wow. What chemistry you have. It takes a lot of effort for (y/n) not to roll her eyes.

“You should ask her” She tells him.

But her voice is quiet, and she’s intent on peeling the white skin from the orange slices. Anything to keep from making eye contact with him right now.

“You don’t mind?”

Her eyes shoot up to him at the question, features falling for just a moment before she carefully crafts them into a happier expression.

“I just don’t want to make it weird,” Stan says quickly, because he catches the flicker of a frown on her lips. “You know… so I just wanted to let you know-“

“Not weird,” She rushes out, shaking her head as well. “I don’t mind at all. I told you that you deserve to go with someone you’ll have a good time with”

I don’t know how anyone could have a good time with Mercedes, though, she wants to say, but she keeps her lip zipped.

“Cool” Stanley says, and gives her a thumbs up.

There’s a brief second, maybe even half a second, where she wants to take it back. Unfortunately, just as she opens her mouth, not knowing what she was going to say, Stan was getting up from the table, and wandering over to another.

No.

“Hey, Mercedes,”

Why do I have to listen to this.

“So I was wondering…”

(y/n) almost covers her hands over her ears. But she’s frozen in her seat, trapped watching the scene unfold in front of her. Stan was smiling, and sat down next to the girl as he spoke excitedly about homecoming, and that he’d like to take her.

(y/n) winced, and waited impatiently- maybe just as impatient as Stan- for Mercedes answer.

“Yeah, that sounds great!”

She looks so happy, and it just about tears (y/n’s) heart in two.

Stan looks even happier, and she feels like the biggest jerk on the planet.

And that’s saying something, since Brad Lewis is sitting just a few tables away from her.

She tries her best to block out the conversation that the new pair are having about plans. He’s picking her up at 7:30, they’ll take a few pictures before heading out, and then he’ll drop her back off after the dance, around 10:00.

Stanley rejoins (y/n) at their lunch table a few minutes later, and she wills herself to give him a smile.

“Sounds like that went well” She says softly, and he grins back at her.

“Yeah, it did”

“Good,” She replies, popping an orange slice in her mouth. “I’m glad”

They eat in silence for a little bit, and Stan starts to get the feeling that he’s upset her. Even though it doesn’t make sense, since she’d turned him down, and prompted him to go ask Mercedes. He doesn’t ask her about it, he’s smarter than that. But he does wonder if it’s true.

“So what are you going to do that night?” He asks.

“Hm?”

“Friday night, what are you going to do instead?”

“Oh, you know, sit around, plotting against the patriarchy” She jokes, but it’s half-assed, and the laugh she lets out fades weakly back into silence.

“Well, if you change your mind, I could come pick you up”

She smiles, and almost agrees, but just as quickly shuts her mouth and shakes her head politely.

“No, no it’s your night, you should enjoy it with your date”

He wants to remind her that they’re friends, and that means a five minute drive is nothing to him, that he’d be happy to bring her along. But the bell rings, and she’s quick to grab her bag and shoot off of her seat like a rocket.

“See you after school?” She asks, and Stan nods.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll meet you in the parking lot”

She agrees, and bolts out of the cafeteria without another word.

Stan’s certain that he’s messed up, but he doesn’t understand how, or how to even fix it. ___

[ if you’re over thinking i’ll get high with you // if you’re ever sinking i’ll go down with you ]

They’d only just arrived at the homecoming dance, and already, Stan had gotten himself ditched.

He supposed he shouldn’t have lit a joint in the car. Apparently Mercedes had a thing against weed, and he hadn’t realized that anyone still gave a shit about it. He probably shouldn’t have joked about it either.

Her reprimanding him and letting him know he’ll die a crack addict was her way of saying she wasn’t going to be his date tonight. At least he assumed, because as soon as they walked into the school, she told him to leave her alone, and that she’d be spending the night with her friends.

So for the first twenty minutes of the dance, he found himself sitting on the bleachers. It would be easier if there was at least one other person there, another loner, another reject that hadn’t gotten a date in time. But no, he was the only one. The only loner.

He pulled his sunglasses off his head and put them on.

He contemplated leaving, save himself from further embarrassment. However he figured he’d be even more if he had to tell (y/n) that he ditched the dance early.

He supposed he could lie. He wasn’t all that bad of a liar. Still, (y/n) had a good bullshit detector.

Maybe he could leave now and visit her instead, see if she wants to do literally anything else. People keep sending him looks, some pitiful, some humored, but both were the same amount of hurtful.

Just as he decided he was going to make a break for it, he froze completely, something in his line of sight stopping and vanquishing all thoughts about leaving- all thoughts about anything really.

(y/n) (y/l/n) was standing there, at the gym entrance, eyes scanning the area- Stan assumed looking for him- with a curious sort of smile on her face.

She hadn’t looked his way yet, so he didn’t mind openly staring at her while she stayed hidden in the doorway. The dress and makeup she was wearing is what made her beautiful, but there was a different type of beauty to her that he hadn’t seen before. Something soft and princess-like.

The pale pink dress she wore was simple and silky, and fell just a little past her fingertips, although she was nervously grasping at the material, curling her fingers in and out.

Her hair fell naturally, if not a little curled at it’s ends, and it looked incredibly soft, even from a distance.

Finally, her eyes land on his, and she seems to pause for a minute. Perhaps to collect her thoughts, or deciding if this was still a good idea. He can almost see the gears in her head turning.

But a moment later she’s walking up to him, a shy smile on her lips as she tucks her hands behind her back to stop herself from fiddling with her skirt. She doesn’t want him to see how nervous she is, and she hasn’t realized that he’s been watching her for the better part of a solid minute, so he already knows.

“What are you doing here?” Stan asks, pushing his glasses back on top of his mess of curls once she’s standing in front of him.

“I… um…” She glances around the gym, taking in the balloons, the streamers, the horribly mainstream music playing. “I changed my mind”

She looks back at him, more bashful than he’s ever seen her before. In the last week that he’s gotten to know her, he’s noticed that she doesn’t get shy. She doesn’t blush, and she doesn’t fidget.

The (y/n) before him was a completely different girl.

“No shit,” He responds, a smirk on his face. “Why?”’

She looks down at her shoes- an old pair of white heels that she once bought at a second-hand store, Dina had told her she’d need them some day, and apparently she was right- and gave a limp shrug of her shoulders.

And then she reaches her hand out to him, waiting patiently for him to stand and take it.

“Come on,” She murmurs. “I told you that you deserve someone who will dance with you, and not sit on the bleachers”

He chuckles, but his heart is racing in his chest as he extends his hand, gently grasping onto hers as he stands from the bench. A bright smile flashes across her lips, as even in her heels she has to tilt her head back to look at him.

“And that’s you?” He asks.

Neither of them have moved, not an inch. They’re standing just a few inches apart, connected only by their hands. And their eyes, I suppose.

“Looks like it” She mumbles.

He gestures for her to lead the way, and she excitedly pulls him with her onto the dance floor. She knows people are looking at them, for many reasons, she’s sure. But she can’t bring herself to look away from Stan.

He take’s their joined hands and reaches upward, prompting her to spin around under his arm. She gives him a look, but he nods erratically, and she surrenders, giving him a short twirl.

“Oh come on, have some liveliness won’t you?” He mocks her pitiful attempt at dancing.

“I don’t dance-”

“Bullshit, come on, like this,” He says, lifting their hands again, and ducking down dramatically so he can spin around underneath them. It’s a quick twirl, and when he’s facing her again, his free hand does a little jazzy motion.

She laughs, because he’s adorably entertaining.

“Now you go” He said, waiting for her to give it another try.

She pouts for a second,but when she realizes he’s not going to move until she obliges, she throws their hands up enthusiastically and twirls around on her toes. The skirt of her dress fans out with the rapid movement, only making her look a thousand times more graceful as she spins. She gives him a delighted smile as she balances herself on both feet again.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks teasingly, and she only rolls her eyes back at him.

They continue the cute little dance for the rest of the song, sharing laughs and smiles, and forgetting where they even were for a few minutes.

The next song that plays is slower, not exactly a slow song, but not one that’s easy to dance to like they were before.

She doesn’t wait for him to take her hand this time. Instead, she reaches her arms up to wrap them around his neck, and takes a tentative step closer.

Stan hesitates a moment before placing his hands on her waist.

“So,” She speaks to clear the tension in the air between them. “What’d you do to make your date run away?”

He almost laughs at how certain she is that he’s at fault for Mercedes ditching him tonight.

“Might’ve smoked a little pot outside,” He admitted. “I guess she thinks I’m an addict now, or something, I dunno”

(y/n) giggles, which turns into full blown bubbling laughter. Her shoulders are shaking and she’s not swaying with him anymore, all the while Stan stares at her with complete unamusement.

“Come on, Stan, everyone knows she’s obsessed with being pure,” She tells him once her laughter has quietened enough that she can speak. “You smoked a blunt right in front of her-?”

“Yes!” He stresses the word, and she giggles again, shaking her head.

“You’re hilarious,” She says softly, and begins to sway back and forth with him again. “I can’t believe you”

As it gets quiet between them, she looks down at her shoes again. Partially because she doesn’t want to step on his feet as they move, but also because it’s hard to stare at him in silence when they’re so close.

“I asked her what her deepest darkest secret was,” He says suddenly, and she looks up again. “She didn’t have a good answer”

“What’d she say?”

“Okay so she didn’t answer at all. She actually said that it was a weird question” He confesses.

“It is a weird question,” (y/n) repeats, brows furrowed, and quickly follows it with, “But that’s the point”

Stan shrugs in agreement.

“She doesn’t get it” He says with a small smile.

“No, she doesn’t” (y/n) hums back, and then she’s looking at the floor again.

“Hey, um…” He starts to speak but he slows his words and licks his lips. “Thanks. For coming, I mean”

She nods her head, and self-consciously pushes her hair back behind her ear.

“Yeah,” She murmurs. “You know I- I just figured it’s um… it’s our last homecoming… so…” The longer she stammers over her words, the pinker her cheeks turned, but Stan found it endearing. “Why not?” She finishes almost under her breath.

She clears her throat, and forces her nerves to be under control.

“Besides, I had to see you wear this suit again,” She said, playfully tugging at the lapels on his jacket. “So cute” She adds in a mumble.

He laughs at the compliment while she reaches her hands behind his neck again. He can tell she’s fidgeting with her fingers, but again he decides not to comment on her obvious anxiety.

“You look beautiful,” He says, and she can’t help but duck her head down.

Her cheeks are starting to get hot, and there’s no way she’s going to let him see her blushing that hard.

“Really beautiful,” He continues. “I- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress. No that it matters! It’s just nice- you look nice,”

She laughs softly at how he stumbles over his words, but he takes in a breath to put himself at ease so he won’t ramble as much.

“I think it stems from you being a nice person,” He says. “I mean- you’re beautiful, you are, but, uh, it’s your own self that amplifies that beauty, I think,”

Somehow (y/n) manages the courage to look up at him, her laughter fading as she watches him with a more serious expression. His words are so sincere and heartfelt that they make her feel paralyzed, and she listens to him go on intently.

His tongue darts our to wet his lips, because suddenly they feel very dry, and (y/n’s) staring at him almost expectantly.

“You’re not complicated,” His voice goes soft, and his eyes flicker in between hers as he speaks, absolutely sure of himself. “You’re confusing, you’re very confusing, but… not complicated”

Her own gaze travels his features, lingering on his lips, which she notes are a mere two inches away from hers.

“I-”

“You’re not,” He shakes his head before she can argue with him. “I get that you think you are, because you’ve got all this- this shit, trust me, I get it,” He lets out a short sigh before going on. “But you’re not complicated. Not to me,”

Her eyes are glossy, and if he looked close enough he would’ve seen that the corner of her smile is a bit wobbly.

“Ricky Berry has barely scratched the surface of why he should be so lucky to go out with you,”

Her lips part, like she’s about to say something, but she’s at a complete loss of words. But there’s nothing to say, nothing proper anyways.

And then she’s smiling, wide, and so, so happy.

“What?” Stan asks obliviously.

She just shakes her head at him.

“You, idiot” She whispers shakily, before leaning up on the tips of her toes, and pressing her lips against his.

It’s a sweet kiss, gentle, as it was a new experience for the both of them anyways. Not to mention much anticipated, so now that it was actually happening, it was almost surreal.

One of her hands drifts from where they’d been latched behind his neck, to lay delicately against his cheek. His skin is soft, and warm against the palm of her hand.

When she starts to lean back to pull away, his hands let go of her waist so that his arms can completely encircle her body, and pull her right back into him. She smiles as his lips slant over hers passionately.

Her hands splayed over his cheeks, before she hooked her arms around his neck again, pulling him down with her when she stands back on her heels again.

When they pull apart this time, it’s slow, and her lips linger against his for a moment, before he stands back up to his full height.

They’re wearing the same nervous smiles, and her eyes dart from the floor to his own shyly.

Stan’s hold on her relaxes, and his arms release her, to place his hands on her hips again.

(y/n) lets out a short breath of a laugh, and the smile on her face is unmoving. She couldn’t wipe it off if she wanted to.

She could, however, reach up towards his lips and drag her thumb over them, effectively rubbing away the pink stain she’d left behind.

“You- uh, you had some lipstick on your mouth” She says with a giggle.

“Did it make my eyes pop?” He asked without hesitation, and she nodded her head as she laughed again.

“Yeah, sure” She answered.

She smiled at him brightly, before stepping closer, and leaning her head against his shoulder. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this relaxed, but it didn’t matter. Because she’s never been more content than she is right now.

They continue their dance slowly, and in pleasant silence. Eventually, her eyes fall shut, and she’s just standing there, holding him, barely moving back and forth to the sweet love song playing through the speakers.

And when the next song that comes on is an upbeat one, neither of them move.

It’s not until the dance is over, and people are filing out of the school that they decide they’ve had enough. As they walk out to the parking lot, she slips her hand into his, intertwining their fingers gently.

He thinks that her hand fits perfectly into his, in a way that’s almost romantic.

“Do you think I could get a ride home?” She asks, looking over to him. “I kinda walked here”

“You walked all the way here?” He asks, and she nods. “In those?” He questions her again, gesturing to her ridiculous heels for walking so far in.

“Yes,” She giggles. “How else was I supposed to get here?”

“I told you to call if you wanted a ride!” Stanley shouts, not angrily, just exasperated that she’d do something so foolish when he’d offered her help. (y/n) laughs at him, and squeezes his hand softly.

“Well at that point I just wanted to get here as quickly as I could,” She murmurs. “I didn’t care if I had to walk that far”

He smiled down at her, and nodded his head.

“Yeah, of course I’ll give you a ride home,” He said as they reached his car. “But, we’re listening to Bloodwitch”

She shrugs, as though to say fine. Not that she really minds, she’s kinda starting to like the band anyways.

The drive to their neighborhood is short, but it’s nice. Stan sings the whole way, and (y/n) doesn’t know the words but she enjoys watching his little performance.

When he pulled up outside of her house, she hesitated for a minute.

“Look, Stan I just… I just wanted to… um…”

“Thank me for the magical night?” Stan asks with a goofy grin.

She lets out a short laugh, a shy one, and nods her head.

“I guess, yeah. I was actually gonna say that I was… um… sorry,” She mumbles softly.

Stan’s brows furrows, and he wonders what the hell she has to apologize for.

“For not saying yes in the first place,” She continues. “I should have. I- I really wanted to go with you, I did,” She adds. “I was just… um… I didn’t want to let you down, you know? I- I didn’t want you to be disappointed when you realized-”

“Realized what?” He asks, scoffing a bit as he shakes his head. “(y/n), come on, you do know there’s nothing you could say or do that would ever disappoint me, right?”

She shrugs sheepishly, and pushes her hair behind her ear.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” He told her, turning in his seat to be facing her properly. “It’s okay”

She gives him a small smile, and shrugs again.

“I… I really like you, Stan,” She whispers, eyes flickering in between his. “And I’m just glad that you didn’t leave before I could get there”

He grins, and despite the blush that’s making his cheeks turn pink, he gets a little bit cocky.

“You like me?” He asks, and now she’s blushing too, as she nods her head in the smallest movement.

“Yeah, I do,” She says in a murmur. “So… are you gonna do something about it?” She teases, leaning in closer to him, over the center console of his car.

He leans in as well, but just as she’s about to close her eyes, he stops, and she waits for him to do something, to make a move, but he doesn’t. She crinkles her brow, eyes flickering almost madly over his features.

“What are you doing?” She asked softly.

He raised a hand to her face, fingers skimming over her cheek. There was a sweet smile on his face as his eyes wandered over her features.

“I just wanted to take a look at you, is that such a crime?” He asks. The comment makes her cheek flush pinker than what’s left of the lipstick on her lips.

“It is when I want you to kiss me, Barber”

She’s teasing him, but she couldn’t help but whisper, her nerves getting the best of her.

He grins, however, hand smoothing over her cheek as he draws her in, before carefully planting his lips on hers.

She melts into the kiss so completely that she leans fully over the center console of the car, her arms wrapping around Stanley’s neck so that she could keep herself balanced, and not fully collapse.

Their soft kiss escalates quickly, as she deepens it, parting her lips the smallest amount, giving him access to trace his tongue over her bottom lip.

She parted her lips further so he could continue, and her fingers dove into his hair, coiling his curls around each finger. She wanted to smile, and it was hard to hold it back, but she managed somehow.

She only released his curls to pull the sunglasses off of his head. In the meantime his hands traveled from her face, down her arms, before landing on her hips, and gripping her hips.

(y/n) shifted in her seat, pulling her legs up to sit on her knees, and she moved forwards a bit, prompting him to sit back in his seat, so that she could crawl over the center console, and sit down on his lap.

However, just as Stanley was leaning back, and (y/n) was maneuvering herself over towards him while trying not to let her dress ride up- too much- there was a sudden and rapid knock on the car’s window.

Confused, the pair pulled away from one another. They shared a puzzled look, before Stan caught sight of who had knocked on the passenger window. His lost expresion quickly morphed into one of fear, and in a shaky fashion, he pointed behind her.

(And when she turned he tugged the hem of her dress down)

“Mom!?” She shrieked, leaping away from Stanley and smoothing out her hair and skirt, hastily trying to make herself more presentable.

Not that it really mattered, seeing as they’d already been caught red-handed.

The girl’s mother didn’t look angry, but she certainly wasn’t amused.

(y/n) was quick to roll down the window, already racking her brain for any sort of excuse or distraction she could use, but her mind was blank, as she was only worried about the trouble she was about to be in.

“Wh-when did you get home?” She asked, forcing a smile towards her mother.

“About thirty minutes ago,” The woman answered.

She leaned over a bit to see into the car better, eyes landing on Stanley, who gave a nervous smile and wave.

“Nice to see you, Stanley,” Mrs (y/l/n) spoke. “Thank you for dropping (y/n) off”

“Y-yeah, no problem,” He answered awkwardly. “I’ll- I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Despite her own anxiety about this whole ordeal, she grinned at him and nodded.

“Yeah,” She agreed. “Come pick me up in the morning?”

“Will do”

(y/n) gets out of the car, following her mom up to their front door, and talking animatedly- he can only assume it’s about him, which makes his heart do a little backflip.

“Oh, wait I forgot my shoes!”

(y/n) turned to head back to the car before Stan could drive down the street to his own house.

He gives her a funny look as she leans in through the open window.

“I live like- right next door,” He chuckles. “I could’ve brought them over at any point-”

“I know,” She says playfully, and leans in further to give him a quick kiss. “I just wanted to say goodnight”

The smile on her face is bright and beautiful- and it reminds him that someday he has to paint her.

“You’re adorable” He says.

“Goodnight” She whispers back, before grabbing her heels from the floor, and actually going inside.

Her mom had been waiting at the front door and saw the whole interaction, but she didn’t care this time. Her happiness outweighed the awkwardness.

They both went home and to bed with eager smiles on their faces, knowing this next chapter together was going to be an exciting one. Of course, everything was exciting with Stanley Barber, and she wouldn’t have to worry about being left bored and alone in her room again.

[ all i need my baby and a cigarette ]

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#I am not okay with this #ianowt #ianowt fanfiction #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #stanley barber imagine #stanley barber fanfiction #stanley barber scenario #wyatt oleff

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kylescheiblehateclub · 3 years

Text

Big Jet Plane

by: kjllingmoon (me, hi) || my twitter

chapters: 1/1 || words: 2.6k || rating: general audiences

summary:

It was a bad idea.

Still, it couldn't hurt to help.

----

In which Kojiro takes a beat-up Kaoru home after his little escapade from the hospital.

This was a bad idea.

It was one thing to let Kaoru stay in the restaurant despite sneaking out of the hospital with a broken leg (which, by the way, how the hell did he manage to get to Luce by himself?), but this was in another league of its own. He could already hear the slew of insults coming his way. You dopey gorilla, what if you dropped me? Why would you let me fall asleep without knowing if I have a concussion? I see your interior decor hasn’t gotten much better since last time.

He could stand it and not fight back, if just for one night. Frankly, he felt comfort when seeing Kaoru at the restaurant. It meant the accident wasn’t too bad, at least physically. And there was the sense of superiority that came with knowing he chose his restaurant, of all places. Superiority at knowing he was Kaoru’s priority, and comfort at knowing Kaoru still cared for him. Despite everything—the years of arguing, being split up during their respective years of higher education—there was still care. Which is more than what he could ever feel towards that other asshole.

It wasn’t like he’d verbalize how he felt on the ride to the emergency room. Hours had passed and he still couldn’t figure out if he had been shaking from the worry towards his friend, or hatred towards the man they once thought they knew. All that was certain was the regret he felt upon not beating Aino—Adam to a pulp right then and there, for everyone to see.

Ainosuke, Adam. The same rotten person at the core.

That violent nature wasn’t like Kojiro, it wasn’t expected of him. Which only angered him further. How was it that he and Kaoru let it get this far? S had begun as a way of self-expression, and it snowballed into a free-for-all that sometimes made him sick to his stomach. The notoriety got to his head, despite the promise he’d made to himself years ago. It was a tricky situation, one he didn’t like thinking about yet still kept him up at night.

Kojiro sighed in relief as his house came into a clearer view (giving him a break from his thoughts), surprised Kaoru slept through the ride. The pain meds must have kicked in…. He fished his keys from the pocket of his jeans and unlocked his front door, turning a light on before carefully pushing Kaoru inside. The door was promptly closed and locked, followed by his shoes being removed and all the shit in his pockets being moved to the bowl next to the door.

Once again, he found himself debating his options. He knew fully well that he should have dropped him back off at the hospital, it’d been ringing around his head during the whole walk back to his house. How was he supposed to know he’d be okay, though? Surely one night won’t kill him. They’ve gotten into bigger problems and walked away unscathed. Then again, neither of them had gotten swatted at high speed by a fucking piece of wood and metal until that night.

Options, Kojiro.

Perhaps he could start with actually waking Kaoru up and asking if he’s okay. He crouched in front of the wheelchair, nearly eye-to-eye with the man, and carefully shook him by the shoulder. “Oi, Ru. Up and at ‘em, c’mon.��

Silence. He remained still as the other stirred, bright yellow eyes looking around in confusion. Another thing Kojiro would never verbalize was the way his heart picked up as he saw thin eyebrows knit together, chapped lips pursing.

“Kojiro.” Kaoru groaned, removing his glasses. His heart had moved on from picking up to doing backflips. He began scratching at his eyes, and the act made him look younger and even more fucked up at the same time. Amazing. “Why are you staring? Didn’t your mother teach you that’s rude?”

She never said anything about admiring pretty things. “Whaddaya need, kid? Want me to take you to bed, maybe get you some food?”

Both of them looked down at Kaoru’s lap, at the way his free hand fiddled with the temples of his glasses. It felt awkward; like he was actually… embarrassed of whatever was on his mind. Kojiro stood up, figuring he’d be doing him a favor by giving him the time and space to speak. No use in forcing words through a muddled mind. He took a seat on his couch, his back facing Kaoru.

“Back at the hospital, they just…” Kaoru sounded frustrated and like he’d given up despite barely beginning. Kojiro didn’t move. “They only cleaned the affected areas and I knocked out as soon as my head touched the pillow. I feel dirty.”

Ah. Hot springs, showers. Same difference. Kojiro wouldn’t find the courage in either scenario.

“Will you wash my hair?”

A terrible, no good idea, indeed.

And yet, he got up and wheeled him into the bathroom, with not so much as a peep leaving his mouth. It’s the friendly thing to do. It also wasn’t anything new between them; Kojiro saw it as one of the perks of having known him for more than half their lives.

And yet, as he helped Kaoru sit on the toilet seat and turned Carla off to preserve her battery, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. What a bad idea. Washing his hair, as if they were an old couple, with habits and routines.

Are you implying that friends can’t have routines? Have you seen how the kids act around each other?

“How are you keeping my cast dry?”

The two men looked at each other, playing a mental game of chess. With all the bandages around Kaoru’s face, the cast had become the last of Kojiro’s concerns, but he was right. Without excusing himself, he retreated back to the kitchen, returning shortly after with a trash bag in one hand and an old beach chair in the other. “S’not perfect, but I think it’ll get the job done.”

“You don’t have to do all this, you know.” Kaoru still had that embarrassed inflection to his tone. It was reminiscent of a time when Kojiro had to make up an excuse or other as to why they kept cutting class. “I know I asked you to—”

“And that’s all there is to it.” Kojiro took a step back from his shower, looking at the chair smack in the middle of the tiled floor. It was a ridiculous setup, but it would work, for now. Hopefully. “You’re my friend, Kaoru. You’re asking for a favor.

“Before you even think of it,” he added, now turning to face the other, trying to figure out where to begin the process. Maybe undressing the bruises would be a good start. “I’m not doing this out of pity. I know you wouldn’t let me if that were the case.”

His hands were shaking again. They were chef’s hands, trained for years to be steady and precise. The experience had roughed them up, with various small slices and healed burns around his fingers and palms serving as evidence of his hard work. They were athlete’s hands, being accustomed to heavy lifting and scraping along the concrete on his board. Hands that held pride in his achievements and deceit in the shape of women. Steady, sturdy hands, goldened by the sun and failing him before his very eyes.

He began with the bulk of the bruises—his jaw. While one hand cupped Kaoru’s chin, the other one removed the tape holding the gauze to his skin, being careful to not tug at it too hard. Gnarly purples and reds came into view, the bruise obviously still fresh. Then he moved to the bandages around his neck, then his head. Neither of them dared speak, even when they winced at the sight or the sensitivity.

The anger was resurfacing. One good punch, right in the nose. That’s all he wanted. “Think you can stand?” Kojiro felt too loud in the small room, even though his voice was low. He took a step back and extended his hands, as if to invite Kaoru to try.

The other’s felt soft. He took good care of them, needing them to make a living. They were polished, well cared for, albeit also scarred from his tinkering with his AI materials and his experience skateboarding. They were pale, seeming bright as they held the other’s. Such a contrast.

Both of them took their time in getting Kaoru to his feet. It was a process, trying to balance him to remove his robe and get him in the shower. Kojiro didn’t bother removing the arm brace; that’s a bridge they could cross later. The big plastic bag was wrapped around the leg cast, with both of them hoping the water would stay out. A messy, bad idea.

It only took Kojiro a minute to strip down to his underwear. He couldn’t afford to get lost in his thoughts again; being shirtless at Crazy Rock, being half-naked with the man consuming every waking second of his life for the last few months—what’s the difference, right? He was making himself dizzy, going in circles.

He turned the faucet on, being careful not to wet Kaoru just yet. The detachable shower head was gripped, and he pointed it at the wall, feeling the steady stream until it was at a comfortable temperature. Then he began.

The ends of the long hair were first, going up to his scalp, digging his fingers into it to make sure everything got properly wettened. The faucet turned off, and he squirted shampoo onto his palm, feeling automatic; as if this really had been a habit of theirs for the longest time. Why wasn’t it? Why had his cowardice driven him into this cycle of guilt and heightened expectations— why didn’t those girls suffice him? What made him think he could ever compare to the thrill given to Kaoru when Ainosuke was in the mix?

The sound of a sob pulled him out of his thoughts. He furrowed his brows and pulled his hands back, initially thinking he had hurt Kaoru somehow. Maybe he touched an injured area?

“Ru?”

Another sob, followed by a sniffle. It made his heart drop. “Fuck. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

What? “What? What’s wrong?” He was crouching in front of the other before he could give it a second thought. The sight was… it was something he hadn’t seen in a while. His stomach was churning. “Kaoru. Why’re you saying that?”

“I just—” Kaoru paused, trying to breathe, to calm down. He had snot on his red nose, which Kojiro cleaned without a second thought. “I really thought things would change. I didn’t want— didn’t need to win, but shit— I don’t even love him anymore, I just— I wanted to prove that it could— that we could still be friends. That things could go back to when we were kids.”

Eat your fucking heart out, eh, Kojiro?

“Hey.” He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say. His friend, the man he’d been hopelessly head over heels for, got fucked over by the same person in the span of seven years, and was crying his eyes out, injured, in the shower. It brought upon him a horrible feeling of deja vu, and he couldn’t shake it away.

But he could help again. Just like when they were teenagers, directionless and feeling everything all at once. He’d do it over and over if it meant Kaoru would be okay.

His broad arms wrapped around the man, and he didn’t let go, albeit their uncomfortable position. One of his hands was rubbing his back in soothing, circling motions, with the other one hiding in his hair. He felt cold, his body shaking with each little sniffle and sob.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Kojiro wasn’t sure if he was heard. His voice wasn’t much louder than a small mumble. He let go of the hug and cupped Kaoru’s pale cheeks instead, being as mindful as possible of his bruises. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they continued falling, and a chuckle escaped him, feeling his own eyes getting watery. “Fuck him. He’s nothing but wasted potential. You’ve done so much without him and I know you can do so much more.”

If I’d known this is where we’d end up, I would have cut him off ten years ago. Completely separate myself from him and take the opportunity to tell you what I’ve always felt. I know I wouldn’t have stood a chance, I’ve never been what you crave. But I wouldn’t have been such a coward.

“You look so ugly when you cry.”

The two men laughed at the feeble joke. Kojiro didn’t expect Kaoru to do that, but he figured it would happen. Both of them had always had a problem with vulnerability.

“Like you look any better. Your face is the same color as your hair.” He wiped Kaoru’s tears once more, then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Allowing himself just this one thing. “You don’t need someone like that to prove things can still be good, Ru. I believe in you.”

He could tell Kaoru didn’t fully believe the words. And that was okay. He’d be okay.

Kojiro pressed another kiss to his forehead, then his knuckles, praying above all else that the actions could convey everything he was trying to say, as well as everything he felt. I’m here for you. I love you. I love you.

It was back to washing his hair then. Neither of them spoke; there was no need. Kojiro washed, conditioned, detangled Kaoru’s hair, washed his bruises, helped him dry off, and guided him to the bedroom, offering fresh, warm clothes. He even blow-dried his hair and braided it, just like he used to do when they were teens, keeping it out of Kaoru’s face. Now it was just a matter of changing into some new clothes himself, and set up the couch…. His heart wanted to explode, beat straight out of his chest and straight into bed with him.

So he did. The night was full of mistakes and bad ideas, anyway; what’s one more? He lay on his side, watching as Kaoru attempted to do the same, settling about three-fourths of the way there. They were eyeing each other, both of them seeming like they had something to say.

Kaoru went first. “Thank you. You could have just left me back home, or at the emergency room. This means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Kojiro got closer to him, allowing himself to push his hair back, over and over, creating a rhythm. “You mean a lot to me. I’ll help any way I can.”

“Langa completely destroyed you.”

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

Kaoru was holding Kojiro’s hand by then, guiding it to his cheek. Kojiro left it there, softly running his thumb along his thin lips.

“You know I’m beating his ass if he comes near you again, right?”

Kaoru smiled, tired. His eyes were halfway shut. “Nothing in the world would make me happier.”

Kojiro smiled back, the feeling of relief and comfort slowly returning. “Need a lullaby?”

A shake of the head signaling no, followed by a sleepy sigh and closed eyes. “Just stay here. The kids’ll be okay, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, honey.” Honey. Sickly sweet. He pretended he didn’t notice the way his cheek felt hotter against his palm. “They’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

The way Kaoru kissed his thumb sent a jolt down his spine. A bad idea for another day, Kojiro decided.

He sighed again, keeping his own hand loosely wrapped around his arm. “Goodnight, Kojiro.”

“Goodnight, Ru.”

#aly writes #do not repost #do not reupload #ao3 #matchablossom #sk8 the infinity #joe x cherry blossom #joe x cherry #bisexual joe #but also #closeted joe #i just think there should've been bigger repercussions to the cherry x adam race #i consider it a fucking plot hole #mans walked away unscathed basically #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #fan fiction #joecherry

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somethinginthethunder · 4 years

Note

could you write friends to lovers goshiki x reader where he PINES AND PINES AND HE FEELS LIKE EVERYTHING IS HOPELESS AND THEN... kith. reader gives him a big fat kith kith (... tongue ? 😳) hehehehe... pls. he's so cute.

Author’s Note: Hi hi hi! Thank you for being patient!! AND THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING BC WRITING THIS GAVE ME LIFE. Ah, and apologies if it’s not what you wanted and/or any of the characters are ooc! I’ve never quite written for Goshiki before! Thank you <3

Shares and feedback are appreciated!

Word count: 2,089

Summary: Goshiki has been pining after you for years, but the more he thinks about it, the more hopeless he becomes.

Warnings?: uhhh i don’t think so?

---

“Goshiki.”

Said boy turned his head, pressing his lips together.

“Y-Yes?” he shouted in response.

Ushijima handed him the ball, stepping toward him with an unbothered look in his eyes.

“Pay attention,” was all he said before resuming his own practice.

“Y-Yes, sir!” Goshiki responded, bowing in apology.

Damn, he thought. He shouldn’t have been so distracted.

But you were just there, stopping by the gym to greet your friend. You had waved your hand to him and called out, “Tsutomu!!” before moving on to get back to what you were originally doing.

Even just hearing his name from your lips took him out of the world. It was frustrating how you had him wrapped around your finger. But, then again, it made his heart flutter, too.

“What’s this?” Tendou hummed. “Looks like Tsutomu has hearts in his eyes!”

“H-Heart... eyes?” he squeaked, almost dropping his recently returned ball.

Ohira turned his head. “It’s nice that you have a crush on L/n, but don’t let it take away from your playing, Goshiki.”

The bowl-cut brat didn’t respond, sighing under his breath in frustration. He didn’t even bothering trying to deny his feelings this time.

They were right. He got distracted way too easily.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Y/n-san!”

Both you and Goshiki blinked at the newcomer who had so suddenly interrupted your conversation.

“Yes?” you murmured, leaning back in your seat.

He looked very nervous. His hands were behind his back, yet you could still tell they were shaking.

“I- I like you!” he confessed quite loudly.

The rest of the class went silent as they realized what was happening, pausing their conversations to look right at you.

The boy who supposedly had a crush on you presented you with a letter, sweating nervously for your next move.

Beside you, Goshiki was trying not to show his jealousy and irritation. He gripped the end of his shirt and furrowed his brows as he watched you, afraid you might accept and/or reciprocate his feelings. Who did he think he was, just walking up to you like that?

Oh, but God, he wished he had those kinds of guts.

His heart began to tighten when he saw you take the letter, setting it in your lap and inspecting its quality. For some reason, though, you did not open it. Nor did you seem interested in doing so.

“Ah,” you said. “That’s very kind of you,” you smiled. “However, as I do not know you and do not want to lead you on, I’ll have to admit that I do not quite return your feelings. Thank you, though.”

Your confessor noticeably looked disappointed and embarrassed, nodding in response.

“Of course! Thank you!” he declared, hastily walking out of the room.

Your eyes momentarily followed his retreating form, humming to yourself. How strange. That was the second time this week.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit blunt with them, Y/n?” Goshiki murmured, finishing the last bite of his popsicle.

He didn’t care much about how she was rejecting her admirers as long as she was rejecting them (selfish, perhaps?). However, this did instill a fear into him that she would react just as bluntly if she ever was told about his feelings for her. This also added onto the risk of losing their long-lasting friendship, which was one of the things he cherished most.

You laughed, which surprised him greatly. “I don’t know what he was expecting! I hardly knew him, and I don’t have time to go on dates that most likely won’t be worth my time since, y’know, I didn’t like him in the first place,” you said, your voice calming down. “Besides, he didn’t really know me either. He probably just thinks I looked cool during my games and liked the idea of me instead.”

“B-But you don’t just look cool! You are cool!” the raven-haired boy retorted. Jumping slightly at his outburst, you raised a brow in doubtfulness. “I mean, you’re one of the strongest girls on the volleyball team, you’re super smart, know how to read people super well, and even got in a good word from Ushijima-san! You’re one of the coolest people I know!”

His words had taken you aback, heat rising in your cheeks and a laugh bubbling softly within you.

“That’s sweet, Tsutomu. Thank you. But nonetheless,” you resumed walking away from him and to the girl’s dorms. “The odds still weren’t in his favor.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Goshiki could remember the first time he realized he liked you. Back then it was just a tiny crush.

“C’mon, Tsutomuuu! How are you going to be an all-star ace if you can’t even match my spikes?” you whined, sitting next to the taller kid.

He was in a mood, grumbling to himself as he just couldn’t seem to get into the groove of playing today. You had both agreed to practice spiking with each other and a couple of other friends after school got out.

Noticing this, you placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward to grasp his attention. It was almost too close for his standards (but we all know he really didn’t mind).

“Oi,” you said. “You better not start giving up today just because you’re frustrated,” you scolded, talking down on him.

“Wha?” he asked, scrunching his nose to look at you, trying to hide the blush rising to his cheeks as you inched your face closer.

“You know what’s worse than failing even after you tried your hardest?” you continued, ignoring the looks your got from the rest of the kids. “Giving up before the game’s even ended!!” you shouted, patting his back firmly, receiving a soft ‘ow’ from Goshiki.

“So stop sitting on the ground like the loser you aren’t and come try and beat me!”

You stood up, wiping the dust from your legs and offering him your hand. He cocked his head to the side like he was trying to figure you out before letting a smile spread onto his face.

And suddenly, just by your words, he was on top of the world again. But it hit different this time. Because for the first time since he met you, butterflies began to form in his stomach.

☆ ☆ ☆

The more he thought about how great you were and how much he’s pined after you, the more he’d get discouraged.

You just seemed so out of his league and uninterested in having a romantic connection with anyone. Why would you ever consider giving him a chance?

“Tsutomu?” you said softly, waving your hand in front of your best friend’s face.

“Sorry, sorry!” he apologized, snapping out of it. “What were you saying?”

You laughed at his spaced out moment, leaning back against the tree you both sat by.

“Since I’ve been having a few more confessions than usual, I was wondering if you were going to try your luck on any girls, yourself,” you said, repeating your statement.

Goshiki’s face turned red for a second. “Oh,” he murmured. He already knew the answer to this question, yet still acting as though he had to think about it.

Pursing his lips, he said, “Well… I do like this one girl.” He hesitated, noticing your eyebrow raise in the periphery of his vision. “But I don’t think she likes me back.”

“Whaaat?” you sighed, leaning forward and resting your hands on your legs. You seemed very captivated by his admittance.

“There’s no way she doesn’t like you back! You’re a pretty cool guy!” you added, your brows knitting together.

“Ah, trust me,” he laughed lightly, scratching the back of his head. “She’s really cool. Out of my league, actually. I’ve liked her for awhile, too, but after all these years, I just don’t think she’s ever gonna like me back. Everyday when I see her, I pinch myself just to make sure I’m not dreaming. If I could just get to her level…” he trailed off, looking down at his hands.

You both stayed like that for quite some time. In fact, none of you said anything. This made him nervous. Oh, no, did you think he was weird now? Did you figure him out and now hate him? Why were you being so quiet?

“Tsutomu,” you finally said, your voice oddly emotionless.

He tensed slightly at the sound of your voice, preparing himself for whatever was going to happen next.

“Wh- huh?!” he cut himself off, taken by surprise when your hands began to hold his face.

For a fraction of a second he could see the soft smile on your face and the look in your eyes before you leaned forward and kissed him.

His brain stopped and his heart felt like there were fireworks going off inside. Panicked and confused, his hands shot up to yours, but he didn’t pry them away from his face. Instead, he rested them on top of yours, allowing you to press him up against the tree as he finally realized what was going on.

You were kissing him.

Deciding that he couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste, he made the bold move of incorporating his tongue, which you gladly obliged. It was much less a battle of strength and more of an exploration of each other.

It was surreal being able to kiss you for the first time. The world was suddenly gone, and it was just the two of you. Nobody else in the entire world existed. Just you and him.

When you (unfortunately had to) pull away, you didn’t move from your spot.

Goshiki finally noticed that he was the one pressed against the tree, with you between him as you both held each other. His face was on fire, and his mind was racing so fast that he could barely remember his name.

“H-How did you know it was you?” he asked breathily, forgetting to breathe when you intertwined your fingers with his and brought them down from his face.

Again with that damn smile, you leaned back to get a better look at him.

“I had a suspicion, but I didn’t act on it until you talked about the pinching thing,” you admitted.

“Wait, you noticed that? I thought you couldn’t see me doing it!” he replied.

“It was a bit noticeable after a couple of times. I didn’t exactly piece together that it was you pinching yourself, but when you told about how you did it everytime you saw the supposed ‘girl’, I put two and two together,” you answered, letting your thumb glide over his palm.

“Oh…” he murmured, his shoulders relaxing, though the blush on his face certainly didn’t. “Does this mean… you like me too?”

“Well, duh, silly! Why would I have my first kiss with you if I didn’t?” you chuckled, amused by his question. Though, of course, you couldn’t blame him.

“Ah, alright!” he said. He was nervous, but pumped up at the same time.

The two of you stood there in that position. It was almost as if you two were waiting for something.

“Alright, come on. It’s getting late and practice starts early tomorrow,” you said, releasing his hands and pressing a soft kiss to his nose before standing up (Lord help him, you just made him a hundred times softer for you). “Let’s measure our jumping heights tomorrow. Bet you can’t beat me,” you grinned, offering him your hand just like you did all those years ago.

“H-Hey! I’m the taller one, here!” he objected, attempting to shake off the light feeling in his stomach. He took your hand and pulled himself up.

“So?” you countered. It sounded as if there were two meanings to the question, but you wouldn’t confirm, stuffing your hands in your pockets and gesturing for him to start the walk back home with you.

He caught on to your inquiry, stepping forward before stopping himself.

“Y/n!” he said confidently (though, in reality, he was more nervous than ever). He clutched his hands into fists.

Stopping in your place just a few feet ahead of him, you turned around. “Yeah?” you hummed.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” he asked, almost shouting his offer. If he were any louder, the neigboring buildings might’ve had a chance to hear him.

You blinked at his question, your chest tightening and face heating up. Your surprise only lasted for a fraction of a second before you put your hands on your hips and gave him his answer.

“I would!”

---

☆taglist ☆

@shou-kunn @warmbearhugs

disclaimer: i would like to clarify that when goshiki is pinching himself, it isn’t enough to seriously harm himself at all!! i would not recommend it! it’s just enough to receive a response, and he most certainly doesn’t do it every time he sees you!

#goshiki tsutomu x reader #goshiki x reader #goshiki imagine #goshiki tsutomu imagine #goshiki fanfic #goshiki tsutomu fanfic #goshiki tsutomu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu self insert #haikyu self insert #haikyuu imagine #haikyu imagine #haikyuu fanfic #haikyu fanfic

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kingleedo · 3 years

Text

Leedo || Judas

[ *drum roll* I FINALLY DID IT. This is a lowkey alternate version to my previous prompt about Leedo rejecting the reader. But this one is long. LIKE REALLY LONG. But I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it. ]

Genre : University AU

Word Count : 3779

Triggers/Warnings: Swearing, mention of alcohol, alcohol use. [ if I didn’t mention anything that might be triggering, let me know ]

You were sitting at a bar with your friend. It was a Saturday night and you went out for a few drinks. It was also a good chance to talk about whatever happened during the whole week. You studied at the same university but your majors were different. So you’d usually share some small gossips while having a few beers.

Your friend recently got together with a boy who was one year younger than both of you, so most of your recent chats consisted of them talking about their new boyfriend.

“So there’s this guy, Geonhak…” Your friend chirped. “He is Youngjo’s friend and he is in the same major as you.”

“Is he the new guy everybody is talking about?” You raised an eyebrow, as you looked at your friend.

“He is. Youngjo says that most of the stuff people say isn’t true. But I think he says that because they are friends.”

“Is he single?” You asked as you took a sip of your beer.

“Don’t even try. He is either one of those players or a total loner. I heard a rumor someone broke his heart in the past and now he has terrible trust issues.”

“But that makes everything even more interesting. Give me a few months, the boy will be on his knees, begging me to love him back.”

***

As you walked toward your class, you noticed a familiar figure. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a beige knitted sweater that fell loose. You wondered how he could wear something that simple and still look like a model that stepped right from the cover of a fashion magazine. Suddenly, you noticed something fall from his leather folder and you did not hesitate to pick it up.

“You dropped this.” You handed him a textbook and offered him a sweet smile. This wasn’t like you, but you were on a mission to find out what the boy liked and how he reacted to specific signs of affection.

“Thanks.” He took the notebook, immediately turning around and walking away. You were taken aback but didn’t expect anything else. Perhaps, the rumors were true.

“Thanks...” You rolled your eyes as you repeated what he just said, mocking him in your head. For better or worse he was already far enough not to hear you. You clicked your tongue and went to your class.

From this moment for the few next months, it was you trying to initiate a conversation with Geonhak. Some days you’d be extremely sweet towards him, while other days you acted like you didn’t care. Your friends didn’t understand the fun in your game, but you didn’t care. As long as he was the only one falling in love, you were fine.

A few months passed by. You were still deep in your “Winning Geonhak over” game. Somehow you felt tired, as he wasn’t an easy nut to crack, but you didn’t want to stop halfway. Last week you noticed him staring at you, but when you winked at him, you could swear to God, he turned red and looked down at his plate. That was a big leap forward, but you still had a long road ahead.

One day you asked your friend if they could convince their boyfriend to ask Geonhak to tag along with the three of you. But Youngjo ruined everything by calling it a double date. As soon as Geonhak heard the word “date”, he was done. However, you thought it was for the best. After all, you didn’t want him to think that you were in love with him or something. You also noted to yourself that asking Youngjo for help was just as helpful as asking an art major to help you with your chemistry homework.

***

It was Friday and once again you had a free hour between your classes, so you were just chilling with some of your friends at the cafeteria. Seoho was watching origami videos as he tried to copy different figures and you just watched him. You were bored, but not that bored to start making animals out of paper. You were ready to let out a loud groan when you saw a door to the cafeteria open and a blond head protrude through it. At first, you didn’t even recognize him, but the moment he walked closer you nearly gasped. Seoho noticed the change in your expression and laughed. He then pushed your side with his elbow, almost making you fall off your chair. Luckily, you managed to hold the balance. You straightened up and glued your smug smirk to Geonhak. Blond complimented him well. You thought to yourself.

The boy never failed to look amazing. The collar of his black shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his neck and collarbones. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, exposing his strong arms. He paired the shirt with a pair of grey, ripped jeans that hugged his thighs just perfectly. The moment he walked in, all eyes were on him. He was just that hot. Some girls were whispering to one another, probably spazzing about how they wished he was their boyfriend. Even guys were jealous of him. Some envied the body he had, some probably had a crush on him as well. You couldn’t blame them. Sometimes you wondered if you started catching feelings for him, after all, that was all Seoho ever talked about. He was teasing you a lot, but you always denied it. You said you were the one playing Geonhak and not the other way around.

You rested your chin on your hand, still watching Geonhak from afar. You didn’t care if he noticed, as that was exactly what you wanted. You were waiting for him to notice your stare so that you could attack. But the moment you caught his stare on you was when he was two feet away. The corner of his lips was slightly raised and you scored a point to yourself. You knew he couldn’t resist you, he was just too cool to admit it or show it. But you knew that he can’t control his body the way he wanted.

As he stopped next to your table, your smirk only grew bigger. You stared him down from head to toes and licked the corner of your lips, making sure he noticed every movement of yours.

“Ah, Geonhak! Hello!” Seoho chirped as he flailed his arms towards Geonhak, almost hitting your head. You turned your head to Seoho, your eyebrows raised as you gave him a questioning look. Now since when did they know each other. You thought Geonhak hanged out only with Youngjo and his other friend, Dongju.

“Right…” Seoho chuckled. “I met Geonhak a few days ago in the library, he was making all these cool origami figures. So I asked him if he could meet me during my break and teach me. Thank you once again.” Seoho smiled wide, his eyes turning into the adorable crescent moons. You sat there shocked, but soon you pulled yourself together.

Your smirk disappeared but your eyes were still glued to Geonhak. He sat right in front of you and you wondered why didn’t he sit next to or in front of Seoho. But you couldn’t complain.

You put both your elbows on the table, holding your hands together, intertwining your fingers, as you put your chin on them. Your eyes were digging holes in Geonhak’s face, but he tried to ignore you. His body was slightly turned towards Seoho, but you knew he could still see you with his peripheral view. A few minutes passed and he still didn’t turn his head towards you, not even a bit. All of his attention was focused on Seoho, as they made their stupid paper duckies. Seoho was giggling like a girl in love and you couldn’t help, but force a gag in your fist.

Spending time with the origami enthusiasts didn’t sound exciting, but now that Geonhak was sitting right in front of you, there was no way you could leave. You needed to make the most of it. You bit your bottom lip as you thought of a way to get his attention. Suddenly Seoho jumped up, causing both you and Geonhak to look up at him.

“I’ll be right back.” He smiled and ran off.

“I swear to God if it’s one of his little, stupid plans...” You cursed under your breath and shook your head.

“Aren’t you the only one with little, stupid plans here?” You heard a low voice and you jerked your head toward the source.

“What is this supposed to mean?” You moved your head even closer to him, puckering your lips a little. Finally, he scooped in his seat and turned his whole body towards you. His face was so close that if he leaned in a little closer, you could easily kiss him. You could smell his cologne and for a second you forgot what you were thinking about. The mixture of the sweet and spicy scent simply lured you in.

“You know what it means. Aren’t you the best in your major… You must be smart, huh.” He chuckled.

Woah, a chuckle from this man kicked you right in the feels and you moved away. For a moment you felt like you were the prey of his. But you couldn’t let him take control of the game you created, so you mentally kicked yourself and straightened up. You gave him another daring look, as your tongue ran against your upper teeth. The look must have made him uncomfortable, as he let out a forced cough and looked down. The controller was back in your hands, so you continued the attack.

“So you know a lot about me… Been asking around?” You run your thumb against your lips and your smirk grew bigger. Geonhak still couldn’t look you in the eyes and you wondered where did the cool guy go all of a sudden.

“There’s not much to know.” After a short pause, he stared back at you. “Don’t think too good of yourself, it’s unattractive.”

You were offended, but you didn’t show it. Who does he think he is? Telling something like this when he doesn’t even know you. A part of you wanted to slap him, but you remained calm and collected. There was no way you could let him win.

“Honey darling, now who is the one thinking too good of themselves. Mr. Kim Geonhak, the one who is too cool to befriend people. Mr. Kim Geonhak is so tough and cool, he is untouchable. You aren’t even allowed to mention his name.” You teased him with a smile on your face. These were the things that were spread like a disease all around the campus.

“Are you jealous they all want me and not you?” He leaned in closer, taking you by surprise and making you move a little back. But you were quick to get back at him.

“And who told you I want them to want me?” You leaned just as close, leaving almost no space between your faces. You unintentionally bit your lip again, as a strong desire to kiss his lips filled your body.

“You guys, I swear to God!” You heard an annoyingly familiar voice and you wanted to kick him to the moon. Why does he always appear at the wrong time? “Y/N, I leave you for a minute and you’re already sucking on his face.” Seoho laughed out loud, as he sat down at his spot.

“Eww, I would never!” You mimicked, but as soon as you caught Geonhak’s gaze, you blew him a little kiss.

***

A few more months passed. Geonhak was hanging out with your friend group more and more. Now that he knew both Youngjo and Seoho, you saw him around more often. And even though he was closer with the boys, he was still cold towards you. There was a time when you saw some girl tagging along with him and you wondered if he finally got himself a girlfriend or was it another admirer of his hot ass.

The thought of him dating someone made your blood boil. As much as you tried to prevent yourself from catching feelings, you couldn’t help it. The constant teasing and bickering made you want to get to know him more. You simply couldn’t get enough of him. Even though sometimes his words offended or hurt you, you wanted more of this. This was the kind of bad romance that was so bad it was good.

You hurried to the cafeteria. Hwanwoong was throwing a frat party and you were in charge of helping him prepare for it. You knew that Seoho and some other friends were already there. You were the only one running late because your professor decided to interrogate you about your last presentation.

As you rushed through the hallways, you felt someone grab your hand. The moment you turned your head to look at the one who dares to do it, your heart stopped beating for a moment.

“Seoho told me you were running late, too. I wondered if I’d catch you halfway.” Geonhak grinned, as he let go of your hand.

“Oh yeah? Remind me to kill that boy!” You groaned. But not because you were mad at Seoho, but because you didn’t want Geonhak to let go of your hand.

“The last one buys drinks!” He slapped your shoulder and jumped in front of you. The last thing you knew before he ran off, was him winking at you. You let out another groan and ran after him.

“Kim Geonhak, I swear to hell!” You weren’t a sporty one, but having the chance to win over him gave you enough adrenaline to run as fast as possible.

You ran through the hallways, with Geonhak sometimes stopping to check up on how far behind you were. Only for you to catch up to him, giving him a playful poke or a slap on his thigh. You were tired and you wished the cafeteria was closer, but it was delightful to hear him laugh so wholeheartedly.

Finally, you made it to the cafeteria; and before you both could fall through the door, Geonhak grabbed both of your hands and pulled you closer to himself.

“They won’t understand if we barge in like this.” He smirked, as he tried to catch his breath.

“Who the fuck cares what they think or what they don’t understand.” You freed your arms and pushed him to the side. As he tried to catch his balance not to fall, you opened the cafeteria door and ran towards your friends. Once you touched the table, you stick out your tongue and laughed. You ignored the judging looks the rest gave you.

Geonhak approached you as if nothing ever happened, sitting next to Seoho. You rolled your eyes and walked up to him. You bent down from behind, as you put both your hands on his arms to support your weight. Still ignoring the weird glares, you whispered into his ear.

“The drinks are on you, babe.” You resisted the urge to bite his ear, as you straightened up and walked to sit next to Hwanwoong.

“Now what the hell were you two doing?” Hwanwoong leaned in closer to you with a huge grin on his face, only to have his face pushed away. You looked over at Geonhak and smirked.

“You’re too young to know.” The loud gasp leaving Hwanwoong’s mouth didn’t surprise you. But Geonhak’s eye roll amused you. You winked at him, as Seoho shushed you all so that he could start sharing his ideas.

***

You were leaning against the kitchen counter as you watched the people in the living room. Some were dancing, some were drinking, while others played some games. Everyone seemed to have a lot of fun, but you didn’t share the vibe. You bit down on your cup that was filled with whatever Hwanwoong mixed in. Usually, you were the life of the party, but this evening you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do any of the frat party activities.

“Hey, Y/N! What’s buzzin’?” Suddenly you got approached by a wild Keonhee. He playfully bumped your hip and chuckled.

“Surely not me…” You laughed, as you twirled your cup and looked at the alcohol in it.

“How come!! You guys worked your asses off to make this party happen and look how great it is! You should be out there, dancing on the table.”

“I guess. But don’t feel like it for some reason.” You looked up at him and shrugged your shoulders.

“Did anything happen? Do you want me to find Seoho?” He tilted his head. Everyone knew that Seoho was your best friend and he was the one who was able to lift your mood in seconds. But this time you weren’t sure if even Lee Seoho could help you. You shook your head and rested your hand on Keonhee’s arm.

“There’s no need. I’m okay. Guess just need to drink more.” You forced a smile, but you knew you weren’t completely okay. You saw Geonhak an hour ago, talking to some girl and giggling like a girl in love. You tried to ignore it, but deep down you were both jealous and angry. He never acted that way around you. You wondered what was so special about her that made him giggle like this.

“Oh by the way…” Keonhee’s voice brought you back from the world of your sorrow. “Geonhak was looking for you. I think he is upstairs.” He nodded his head.

“Geonhak?” Your eyes widened as you couldn’t believe that Keonhee mentioned his name.

“Uhmm!” Keonhee nodded again. You hid your excitement, even though inside your heart was beating with a rapid speed and you felt like jumping in your spot. Yet you didn’t know what was the reason he was looking for you. Maybe it was another one of his stupid games.

You left your drink on the counter and made your way to the stairs. You asked some girl on your way if she saw Geonhak, luckily it wasn’t the one you saw him with before. But then your heart froze as you were afraid you might catch them together again.

As you walked past all the people, checking some of the rooms at your own risk, you couldn’t find the boy anywhere. If Keonhee tricked you just to pull a prank on you, he was dead. You passed the bathroom, thinking that it was a dumb idea. But then you took a step back and decided to give it a try. As you reached for the doorknob, the door flew open and you saw no one else, but Geonhak himself.

“Hey, Y/N… Are you perving on me?” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes and pushed him back into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“What if I am? What you gonna do?” You approached him, cornering him, as his butt pressed against the sink. You couldn’t resist, it felt good to be in control. Even though he was taller, you were the one who had him under control. You placed your hands on the sink, framing him in the spot, as you waited for his answer.

He looked down at you, clicking his tongue. The next thing you know, his arms are on your waist. It took him a swift movement to lift you and place you on the sink. Your back against the mirror. His strong arms moved down to your thighs and he leaned in closer.

“I don’t have to do anything. You did everything yourself.” He smirked.

“What is this supposed to mean?” You crossed the arms on your chest and stared at him.

“You should quit playing, Y/N. Everybody knows you have a crush on me.” He licked his lip and winked at you.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe the audacity.” You scoffed.

“So you gonna keep on denying it even though it’s so obvious?” He chuckled, moving one of his hands up your thigh. You froze in your spot and bit your lip. You cupped his face and moved in closer, looking at his lips. Only to press a finger against them and pushing him a bit away.

“I would never have a crush on someone like you. You’re full of yourself.” You chuckled, as you tried to free from his embrace. But he was stronger. He lightly pushed you against the mirror again, forcing your legs to spread, so that he could stand in between them and move closer.

“How unfortunate.” He shook his head, a smug smirk not leaving his face. “I thought we could be a cute campus couple. But if you don’t like me, I might as well ask Yoona out.” He teased. You gasped for air but you were hesitant as to what you should do next. He might be playing you and you couldn’t let him win.

“Us? A couple? What the… Do you like me?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I do... “ He nodded. “At first I thought you were weird. Playing your stupid game, making me fall for you. I thought it could never work, so I ignored it. But as time passed by I couldn’t stop thinking about you…” You sat there watching him in shock. You honestly couldn’t tell if it was an act and a part of some prank or if he was genuine. You slowly reached out to him, moving his hair from his forehead with your hand and pressing your palm against it.

“What are you doing?” He blinked.

“Checking if you have a fucking fever, Kim Geonhak.” You groaned.

“A fucking fever?!” He groaned back. You saw a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes and suddenly you felt bad. You cursed yourself in your head, as you didn’t know how to fix the situation at this moment. Here he was, the boy you liked, confessing to you that he liked you. And you turned it into a dumb joke. You bit your lip and cupped his face, moving closer to him, so that you could kiss his lips. You wrapped your legs around his waist, as his strong arms found their way around yours. The kiss didn’t last long, but it was gentle. As if you tried to apologize with this one.

“Still won’t admit you like me?” He teased again, as he moved away from a kiss.

“I do, I do! Now shut up and kiss me again.” You chuckled, as you pulled him into another kiss.

#oneus scenarios #leedo scenario #leedo imagine #leedo x reader #university au #writing #the ending feels rushed but if i didnt end it there it would go on for another 3k words #hahahahah #i could bicker with this bish forever #oneus fiction #oneus ff #kim geonhak scenario #geonhak scenario

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 4 years

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The day we caught the train (Slytherin!Five x Hufflepuff!Reader)

missvifdor said: It would be for Five Slytherins with a Hufflepuff reader 🤗 they are very opposite in personality but they complement each other. I love Harry Potter and the umbrella academy, so i'm glad you write about both 😄 thank you,

A/N: this was like kinda vauge so i made up like a story line i guess?? Its kinda a mess and really long?? hope this is ok!! I really like these because i used to be obsessed with HP, in this i imagine Five would be from the really posh part of london where, the reader being opposites to him would be from a northern town and theyre both in sixth year which is age 16-17, i had to do so much research for this lol

Words: 2711

Footsteps echoed through the long empty halls as curfew rolled around, the sounds of students rushing to get back to their dormitories after a long night of studying and hushed whispering of passwords was not an unfamiliar sound at this time of night. Pictures were left empty as their residents wandered away out of frame and the castle slowly went to sleep, except for the prefects. As the sun went down, the prefects got up to do nightly patrols to make sure no students were up past curfew, each house prefect patrolled their own areas around their relative commonrooms to catch any wrong doers, not that they were many.

Tonight was your turn, patrolling the basement level and the kitchen corridor around the Hufflepuff dorm room, waiting for anything exciting to happen yet you knew it never would. Hufflepuffs always had a strong moral code and a clear right from wrong, every single patrol you carried out during Fifth year when you were appointed prefect you never caught a single person, now part way into sixth year still not once incident had occurred.

Yet, for some reason, every patrol you had ended up with a certain Slytherin prefect following you around, Five. Five was unusual to say the least, he was a well respected and slightly feared student, cunning and determined, he had a close knit clique of fellow pure blood slytherins, yet for some reason out of everyone in the whole of the castle, he had a soft spot for you. Even though he’d never show it in front of others, during the light of the day he’d sneak in side glances and small smiles, especially in the first few years making sure no comments came your way about your muggle parents or your upbringing.

Exactly on queue, a familiar sound of footsteps echoed down the staircase leading to you corridor only to stop short at the last step. A small ‘lumos’ echoed throughout the quiet hallway before Fives head pops into view, checking it was actually you there before a large smile breaking on his face as he walked into view. “Hey.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?” You smile to him as he got closer, crossing your arms over your chest.

“They know it’s me on, no one would dare try anything.” He smirks knowing he was right, striking fear into everybody, except you. His eyes soften and his tone became gentle when he was speaking with you. He’d always been like that, from your first journey on the Hogwarts express, talking the entire train journey up, secret library meeting when you both realised things weren’t as simple as just being friends. Things got difficult when blood ‘purity’ came into play, when suddenly you couldn’t be friends, which hurt.

The dimly lit hallways excentrated his features, his sharp jaw and high cheekbones cast shadows on his face and neck, yet his dimples still shone through when he smiles and breaks up the harsh exterior that he puts on. Stepping closer, you lifted your hand to run it through his hair, watching his face break out into a smile and wrap his hand around your waist. Small displays of affection weren’t uncommon between the two of you, only increasing through the years of being at Hogwarts. “I’m so glad you stopped gelling your hair back.”

“Don’t remind me.” He rolled his eyes, remembering his poor style choices of his past. You move your hand and run it down the side of his face and across his jaw, taking a second to admire him before dropping your hand.

“I’ve gotta go, my shifts nearly over.” A sad looking smile broke over his face as he slowly lowered his hand from your waist. “I’ll see you tomorrow though.” You say as you lock eyes with him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He repeated back to you. He smiled and started walking towards the stairs, just before his foot touched the first step he turned back to you. “Goodnight, y/n.”

Dueling was always one of the most exciting parts of Hogwarts, it was a welcome break from the immense workload that sixth years had to deal with. In sixth year you were expected to be able to cast non-verbal spells, a mentally challenging task where some were better than others. Over the past month your defence class had been working tirelessly on being able to cast successful non-verbal spells with the promise of having a period where you would be duelling, which was exciting for everyone involved, a chance to show your abilities and represent your house.

“I’m going to be pairing you up today,” Your teacher spoke to you all as he was stood on the dueling table, met with a grumble from the students. “With student of the same ability.” He continued, seemingly unaffected by the disappointed sounds of the sixth years. “When I call you out, both of you will come to the stage.”

Cheers and boo’s echoes throughout the room as students from different houses duled, light flying from wands as students desperately tried to conjure spells without speaking, some pulling through well where others barely being able to produce anything at all. Tension rose throughout the room as more people slowly got paired off, everyone wondering who would be the next pair.

“Y/n and Five.”

Smiling, you walk up to the stage and face Five, seeing a small smile emerge from his stern expression. Wands at the ready, you wait for the call to start from the teacher, already knowing your strategy. The air turned heavy and the room turned quite as everyone was ready to watch the duel, you were both the highest achieving students in the class and people were eager to see who would be the best.

Then it started, Five casting the first spell only to have you deflect it, causing a gasp to echo through the room. You knew it would be a risky move to cast a spell that hadn’t been taught, a spell that wasn’t even in the curriculum. It was the only way you had ever found deflecting a spell without having the spell hit your opponent, Five was stunned for a second before hitting back with another spell, only for you to deflect it again and again and again. Waiting for a hesitation from Five to strike and then you got it, a gap in his relentless spell casting when he took a second too long to think about his next spell.

Before he could blink, he was thrown to the floor with his wand flying out of his hand as you hit him with expelliarmus. Cheers erupted from students interspersed with nasty comments from the Slytherin students, you walk over to Five who was winded from his fall on the floor. Offering your hand he goes to take it before hesitating, under the watchful eyes of his Slytherin clique he lowered his hand and picked himself up, brushing down his robes.

“Right!” Your teacher stood up on the stage with you and Five. “Class is dismissed, remember to keep practicing these non-verbal spells.” Your eyes never left Five as your teacher spoke, you felt a stinging sensation wash over your eyes accompanied by a throbbing in your chest at his actions. You shook your head and turned away, unable to keep looking at him without bursting into tears.

“I need you to stay behind.” He turned to you, giving you a stern look only to soften when he saw you in near tears. Slowly, everyone left the room, either going to the library or commonrooms to await their next lesson due to the early finish. Closing your eyes, you gently tapping the lids with your fingertips to try and ease the stinging feeling, you take a deep breath before re-opening your eyes.

“Am I in trouble?” You say as you sit on the side of the duelling stage, legs swinging as you play with your hands.

“Not exactly,” He sighs, sitting in a chair facing you. “Where did you learn that?”

So you start to explain, lying as you went, as you explained you started to immediately regret even casting the spell in the first place. In fourth year you were spending a late night in the library, trying to find any books to help you excel in your classes, you had piles of books in front of you and then one book you opened had sheets of parchment paper interspersed with the other pages filled with spells that weren’t on the curriculum. It was filled with defence spells, jinxes, curses and more, it had been your guide ever since you found it. This, however, was not what you explained to him, simply saying you were doing some reading and found it and were unable to find the book again.

You could tell he didn’t believe you, but sensed that he wouldn’t delve too far into your story. “You can’t pull anything like that again,” He looked at you for a response so you just nodded. “I won’t go any further with this, you can go.”

The rest of the day went slowly, doing everything in your might to avoid Five, you had been patient with him all these years and him not even wanting to let you pull him up because of his little gang looking at him hurt, it stung. You know he’s loyal to his house but after 6 years of always hiding and sneaking around you just couldn’t bare it anymore, couldn’t bare the fact that Five had let this wizarding class war consume him.

Post day was always fun, hundreds of owls flying into the great hall and dropping off post from friends and family at home, some received letters while others got large packages sent in. Bruce was your barn owl, he was large, brown and robust, he would usually reside on your parents farm, being well loved and looked after by your whole family whilst you were away but always knew when you needed him in the castle.

In he came, swooping down with a letter tied to him and landing elegantly in front of you. Petting him with one hand while the other unties the letter, excited chatter filled the room as most other people were doing the exact same thing, wondering what their loved ones had sent them. Carefully opening the letter, trying not to tear the envelope, your eyes scan over the hand-written letter, smiling at all the information that was written in great detail.

At the very bottom they’d attached a photograph of them all together smiling, along with your dog and a few other animals they all looked after. As you were smiling and showing your friends you felt it get pulled out of your hand; turning around, you were met with one of Fives Slytherin friends waving your photo around, calling on his friends.

“Ere’ give it back.” Getting up, you try and swipe it from his hands only for him to hold it higher, scrunching it as he did.

“What are you going to do about it, mudblood-” Before he could finish his sentence the photo was snatched out of his hand by Five, lightly tapping it with his wand and the photo returned to pristine condition before handing it back to you with a small smile.

“Behave.” Five said to him, pulling him away from your table and back to theirs. A smile snuck onto your face as you sat back down, Five had never done anything like that outside the darkness of the library or the nightly patrols, let alone in front of his friends.

Then, very slowly, he started to actively integrate himself into your life, talking to you in class, helping each other with homework after classes and even sitting with you at lunch on a regular basis. Building up your trust for him again, building up your friendship publically even with all the snide comments other people gave him, he ignored them all for you.

As winter rolled round, snow dusted the castle and surrounding areas as if it was a cake getting doused in icing sugar about to be presented for a meal. Cold nipped at your noses as you made the trek into Hogsmeade, students rushing to buy last minute presents for loved ones before christmas break as well as a stream of students flocking to the Three Broomsticks to get their last sips of butterbeer before the train journey home.

The Three Broomsticks was so full that students were being turned away, it was bursting at the brim with some students even even sharing chairs. The atmosphere was buzzing with excited students, conversations so loud that you couldn’t even hear yourself think. Five and yourself had been lucky, opting to come to the pub first thing then doing your christmas shopping, finding a small booth hid in the corner.

“So are you excited to go home?” He was wrapped up in a hoodie and jacket, a discarded hat and scarf lying on the table, leaving him with flushed cheeks and tousled hair.

“I ain’t going home,” You say, taking a sip of butterbeer. “I never have, I’d have to get the muggle train back north, costs around 100 quid each way.” You tap your fingers against the half empty glass. “Canny afford it.”

“You’ve never gone home for christmas?” Sadness was present in his eyes as he locked them with yours but you just shrugged.

“It’s not that bad, it’s like, my sixth year staying so everyone is just used to me now, I get to phone home and they basically give me access to the kitchen and all the teachers who stay put on interest lessons and such.” A breeze caused you to shiver, wrapping you jacket tighter around you. “I also help with the animals.”

Upon seeing you shiver Five leant over the table to wrap his scarf around your neck before gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear; the small display of public affection causing you to blush. Once you’d finished your drinks you head into town, looking down the alleys for all the little shops you could find, looking for the perfect gifts for your family, asking a slightly unenthusiastic Five for a second opinion and just receiving a series of raised eyebrows or nods of his head.

Taking your time to walk back to the campus, Fives hand had found its way into yours, swinging your entwined fingers as you went. As the large castle came into view a bittersweet feeling washed over you, knowing that Five and everyone else would be leaving for the holidays tomorrow while you stayed at the castle. Even if the empty hallways felt like home there was always a pang in your chest on christmas morning, even if it did ease off during the day whilst sat round with friends and teachers, it still made your chest throb.

Joy was evident in the great hall, everyone talking loudly and laughing with their friends knowing they won’t be seen for the next two weeks, an exchange of gifts and cards being passed around. Slowly, everyone faded out to the dining hall, getting ready to get on the Hogwarts express home, you passed around hugs and goodbyes as your friends left the common room, all of them leaving cards and parcels by your bed and made you swear not to open them until christmas day.

All morning you were looking around for Five but were never able to see him and as everyone left for the station you were convinced he had gone. Defeated, you walk through the empty hallways to the great hall for the regular meeting where the staff discuss the rules with the rest of you who had stayed behind. You heard a voice call your name behind you, quickly turning around, you see him. “Five?”

“They needed a male prefect to stay on campus,” He says as he gets closer, grin covering his face. “So I volunteered.” Instead of answering you just throw yourself at him, embracing him in your arms. His arms instantly wrap around your figure, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Thank you, Five.”

#number 5 #number 5 x reader #number 5 fluff #number 5 imagine #number five #number five x reader #number five fluff #number five imagine #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves fluff

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sepublic · 4 years

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Blight Trio AU

So as a bit of an extension of my past meta, speculation, and analyses on Emira and Edric, and their feelings towards Amity… What if they got to Amity first? That is to say, before Odalia and Alador could fully indoctrinate Amity into their toxic abuse and ideas of authority and hierarchy… What if Ed and Em managed to become a better, more prominent influence in Amity’s life? What if a younger Amity chose to listen to her siblings more than her parents, to follow them around, and looked up to them more for guidance?

In the Blight Trio AU, Emira and Edric ended up having way more of an influence on Amity. As a result, she became a troublemaker like them, and instead of just being known as the Blight Twins… They became known as the Blight Kids, that trio of siblings always hanging around together, causing trouble, and being oh-so confident, charming, and too cool for school!

As Amity became more like the Twins as a deliberate defense against their parents’ attempts to separate the kids and put them at each other’s throats, to keep from competing with one another for Odalia and Alador’s meaningless affection… Unsurprisingly, she changed her style of clothes. She ended up dressing like Ed and Em, just as they dressed like one another! She even dyed her hair a green more akin to Emira and Edric, although in this scenario it was more encouraged by her siblings as a sign of solidarity against their parents, and not an outright order forced by Odalia.

(More on that later)

Just as Emira and Edric are inseparable in the original canon, in the Blight Trio AU, Amity is included amongst this! All three Blight kids have shared their deepest, darkest secrets with each other; They do everything together, and are practically capable of finishing each other’s sentences! They also seem like three parts of a whole, which leads to most people referring to the group as a whole –the Blight kids- VS as separate individuals.

Amity’s definitely a lot more open, happier, and confident here. She’s a lot more similar to Emira and Edric, at first glance… That same flippant, mischievous confidence, that willingness to mess around with other people, seemingly too cool for school! Because Amity’s given a better sense of individuality with her older siblings, she’s happier and more open about being a dork, at least when she and the others are alone- Like Edric, when in public, she’s not as open about being a dork. Like the Twins, Amity continues that same façade, although this façade comes across as a lot happier and more confident than the one she has in canon.

And, Amity IS happier and more independent, in a sense! She’s not subject to crippling pressures and expectations by her parents- Or at least, she’s no longer beholden to them. Because Amity is One Of Them, Emira and Edric fully indulge in her interests in The Good Witch Azura, about wanting to be good at magic, and help train her a lot! They use their skills and talent to hone Amity’s understanding, and following in her siblings’ footsteps, Amity enrolls in the Illusion Track!

…Still. While it’s in some ways a lot better than what she has in canon, because Amity fully has the trust and support of her siblings and vice-versa, and is fully integrated amongst the group… As I’ve speculated in the past, there are issues of identity. Not only that, but while Ed and Em try to reassure Amity that she really IS one of them, Amity still has concerns. She knows that she’s younger, and that Emira and Edric are implicity closer with one another, than they are with Amity. It’s only natural- For two whole years, they only had each other! Not to mention they look so similar, too…

And, Amity doesn’t want to get in the way. She doesn’t want to be jealous. But sometimes she’s afraid that her own relationship with her siblings, individually, doesn’t mean as much to them? That if either Emira or Edric had to choose between their other siblings, they’d choose their Twin? It’s a silly thought, surely, and amidst Amity’s darker secrets, this one she doesn’t bring up. It brings shame to her, and it makes her feel like she’s jeopardizing the ‘harmony’ and ‘sync’ of the trio. The fact that she’s noticeably younger and has brown hair more akin to their abusive father, VS her loving siblings, doesn’t help either…

In this situation, Amity’s hair is always, constantly, fully-dyed; Especially with the help of Illusions. Her shade of green is dark and identical to the Twins’. She dresses like them, doesn’t do things without them and vice-versa… And while it seems like the kids are a close, tight-knit and cohesive unit, there’s still issues here or there. Because Emira and Edric influenced Amity so much… They’re a bit less self-aware of whenever they tend to steamroll over what Amity wants for herself, especially since Amity is reluctant about letting them down by trying to be different. She already feels beholden to her older siblings for saving her from their parents, and again, she doesn’t want to jeopardize any unity…

Especially since the Blight Trio, as in canon, only really have each other! They don’t have any actual friends… By a stroke of different decisions leading to different circumstances, Amity never encountered Willow by chance and never became close to her unfortunately. She was too busy doing other things with Emira and Edric…

Making friends also means getting people involved in the Blight drama and abuse, and that’s a very vulnerable thing to do. After all, making connections outside of the family that their parents don’t approve of would mean having to defend them… So the Blight Trio avoids friends, they act like they’re secretly too cool for everyone else, and everybody else agrees and assumes as such! But they’re starved for additional friends. Having the three of them IS great and all… But if they weren’t afraid of hurting anyone else, the Blight Trio would certainly try to form more connections. And, this just contributes to their loneliness, insecurity… To the distance they set others at, pretending to be casual and informal, and while to an extent they ARE…

The Blight Trio could never let anyone in close, because the idea of people intimately knowing them is terrifying. Instead, they keep marching on together… At least, they try to. But as I said, the differences between Amity and the Twins are obvious. Not to mention, Amity is likely at a different grade level… Because no matter how hard she tries in canon, she just can’t move up a grade! It’s rather frustrating to be in different grades than the Twins, it results in the trio separating more often than they’d like- And while Ed and Em are alone together, THEIR bond and closeness increases, while Amity continues to feel more and more distant.

At some point, I imagine she gets desperate, maybe interacts with Augustus Porter from her grade! He’s not on Emira and Edric’s level, but he IS a child prodigy who skipped a few grades… Maybe she could pick up a thing or two, and advance to be in the same classes as the twins! Perhaps Amity starts to become acquainted with Willow through Augustus in THIS particular scenario, although…

Like I said- Amity doesn’t have natural talent, at least not to the same extent as Emira and Edric. And inevitably, she’s going to feel the need to keep up with them, for fear that they’re leaving her behind, that Amity is actually at fault for enforcing a rift between her and the Twins… She works and studies extra hard in the hopes of advancing to their grade, but! Doing so requires time separate from Emira and Edric, because they don’t particularly care for studying or grades. Amity either drops the effort entirely, potentially becoming distant with Augustus and Willow again as she focuses on maintaining her constant presence with the Twins…

Or, Emira and Edric hear what Amity have to say! And there’s a little bit of concern, because… They understand Amity’s concerns, and they know that she wants to be close with them! And they’d hate to leave their little sis behind, neither twin can imagine what it’s like to be on their own. Either with Amity, or just with one another, the Twins consider the possibility of… Maybe deliberately failing and flunking classes, and getting held back? Granted that would look HUMILIATING, and their parents definitely wouldn’t let it pass!

Alas, it’s not an option. Even if brought up to Amity, she wouldn’t let the Twins do so anyway, because she doesn’t want to feel like she’s dragging them down… But at the same time, she’s afraid of Emira and Edric leaving her behind! And Emira and Edric don’t reflect as much as whether or not they’re quashing their sister’s identity, because they’re more focused on how being a close-knit group turned out the best, and Amity is already so eager to be like them. NOT being like the Twins has led to Amity’s personal insecurities after all.

Inevitably, a sense of toxic co-dependency is made. It’s more or less the same between Emira and Edric… But it also happens between the Twins and Amity as well. In Amity’s case, she’s constantly trying to do what she can to be more like her twins, and even existing on their own without any expectations, Emira and Edric unintentionally set an elusive standard for the girl that she simply can’t reach! And it’s exhausting, Amity’s trying to keep up when Emira and Edric aren’t even meaning to outpace her!

And, they try to make room for her in their schedules. But inevitably, circumstances and the reality of the situation force them farther and farther apart. Emira and Edric don’t stop to consider how much they’re hurting Amity, because again, she seems to be most happy around them, and they’re doing better than their parents! Their self-awareness is even less potent in this AU than in canon. Without meaning to, the Twins find themselves sharing little moments and secrets between one another that Amity isn’t privy to, and at some point… They don’t tell her about this, because they don’t want Amity to feel bad.

Not to mention, Amity keeps avoiding making new friends, because like her siblings, she’s under the impression that will somehow ‘ruin’ how close she is to Emira and Edric. It’s a frustrating situation, sometimes the trio is seemingly in-sync, but not always… Amidst Ed and Em having THEIR own differences, too! And when either twin goes to Amity and confides about this in secret, she’s elated, because she has something with THIS sibling that the other one doesn’t! In a way, being a trio helps the Blight kids recognize that not all relationships are meant to be the same…

They learn that inevitably, there are going to be secrets they keep with one person, while excluding from the other. It’s a hard and bitter truth, but they at least manage to cope with it; For each sibling, two connections are better than just the one that Emira and Edric have… And better than the lack of relationships that Amity had, period, prior to meeting Luz! I can see Amity’s presence helping Emira and Edric in a sense… Even if Amity herself also her own issues unique to this AU, perhaps it’s better than being indoctrinated into the self-loathing for herself that Odalia and Alador encouraged in canon.

Still, it really feels like Amity isn’t her own person- And this realization that she can’t function on her own just makes her panic and become more codependent with the Twins, which in turn worsens the original issue to begin with. It’s a self-feeding cycle, but inevitably, the poor girl is going to get frustrated. She’s going to want to do things that Emira and Edric don’t, because she’s always been a nerd who loves to learn… And when Amity tries to ramble about class, Ed and Em shut her down because they’re not interested, and they assume more often than not that she’s like them; So clearly Amity doesn’t care THAT much, and this is just a sign she’s trying to do well in school to keep up with them- Lighten up a little!

And they intend to reassure her… but really, Emira and Edric contribute to a feeling of being left unheard, and not appreciated as her own person for Amity. Amity feels like the things that keep her up at night aren’t being relayed and told, nor listened to… And she keeps insisting that this is because she isn’t close enough to the Twins and so neither can trust the other enough to this degree, as if this desperation to be close wasn’t precisely why Amity was suffering! And, amidst Autistic headcanons and speculation about Amity… And sometimes Amity doesn’t get the joke. Sometimes she feels left behind, or not as clever or confident.

Even if she’s better at it in the Blight Trio AU than in canon, Amity isn’t a perfect talker. Her actual social skills are already stunted as-is, so her façade at being charming and confident has a lot of work to do, in comparison to Ed and Em… That keeps frustrating her, making Amity feels like there’s something wrongwith her.

Worst-case scenario, a bad argument might lead to Amity feeling like she has to be her own person to survive, and completely cut ties with the Twins… Especially if Emira and Edric’s concerns about being co-dependent with one another become apparent. It’d become heartbreaking, that just as Ed and Em fear that they need to cut ties with the other completely to avoid becoming co-dependent, Amity might think she has to separate from her siblings entirely. She sees the existential angst that Emira and Edric have from being so similar, and it conflicts with her desire to be similar to the Twins. Maybe Amity even considers turning to her parentsfor guidance, under the hopes that they can give her more attention, or at least help the girl form an individual identity of her own…

Maybe… Maybe Odalia and Alador WERE right, after all. Maybe setting the kids at each others’ throats was the right action, in the end… And Emira and Edric, eerily, consider this every now and then. It makes them doubt their own judgment, their own rebelliousness… It makes it hard to tell what’s right or wrong, if being obedient would’ve made them happier in the long run! Odalia and Alador of course notice this and eat it all up, they try to take advantage of it. Maybe if one kid turns to them for support, they’ll feel indebted to that support; And they’ll try to live up to whatever expectations the Blight parents set, just to maintain that relationship!

And there is, of course… Luz to consider. Luz the human. Because she’s a lot less elitist and more of a troublemaker thanks to the twins, Amity gets along with her a lot more quickly. And while the Blight Trio is all over Luz, and they utterly LOVE her… Not all of their feelings are the same. Emira and Edric see Luz more as a younger sister than anything else, but Amity… Amity feels romantic.

This becomes apparent to the Blight Trio, and it confuses them. Maybe Emira and Edric should form a romantic interest in Luz, too? But she’s also a bit younger than them, so maybe not… And Amity’s wondering if she should stop this crush, and try to be like her siblings. Unintentionally on any of the kids’ ends, it becomes like a cult; Where trying to form new connections outside of the group feels like a ‘betrayal’. But Amity can’t deny how she feels, and how Luz makes her feel seen as an individual and not part of a greater whole…

Then this adds to Amity wondering if she should’ve been separate from the Twins to begin with… It’s a really confusing mess, and Luz, who is just vibing, tries to help! She’s definitely got a lot to offer the Blight Trio, as does Eda… And those two help a lot. Maybe Emira and Edric feel it’s for Amity’s own good that she starts avoiding them, as they fear having become a bad and toxic influence on her… And while they DID do a thing wrong here or there, it’s not irreparable, and cutting ties completely would do more harm than just setting boundaries. But none of the kids can differentiate between setting personal boundaries and individual identity, VS losing a close bond with somebody else. There’s just not enough experience, and Ed and Em feel that Luz is a better influence for Amity than them, anyway… Maybe one twin is different from the other in that they’d rather keep Amity closer, or don’t want to be left behind, the same way Amity was prior to meeting Luz. This would cause even moreconfusion between the Twins, individually- And likely a lot of conflict.

Amity is of course heart-broken. She tells them that they don’t have to leave her, that she still wants to be with them… But then does she? Because why is she so interested in Luz, doesn’t focusing on this one relationship jeopardize the one she has with her siblings? In the end, Luz helps Amity articulate that she still looks up to the Twins, that they mean the world to her… And she wants them and Luz with her! She doesn’t want to abandon her siblings just to pursue an even closer relationship with Luz, and…

Eda naturally steps in. She makes it clear to these kids, sets it down, that relationships and identity don’t work like that. You can be your own person and still be close with someone… That arguably, one becomes closer with someone because each one is their own individual! There’s a difference between a close bond and co-dependency, and she and Luz can help the Blight Trio navigate this. Amidst Lilith joining in, and having her own insights and experience to offer…

Like canon, it’s painful, awkward, and difficult. It’s a bumpy road that’s incredibly confusing and at times the directions seem contradictory. There’s probably going to be times where Amity and the Twins argue and storm off, go their own path… Before it evolves to all three kids going their separate ways from time to time! But I think in the end, Amity, Emira, and Edric will learn to navigate their lives and head towards recovery, just as they likely are in canon! Ed and Em don’t have to be left behind by Amity; She can bring them along with her into the Owl House! And together, they can all heal… Even as Luz and Eda help teach the Blight kids how to be their own people while still maintain close relationships, AND fend off Odalia and Alador’s abuse!

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house amity #amity blight #the owl house edric #edric blight #the owl house emira #emira blight #the owl house luz #luz noceda #lumity #au #angst

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