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baepsaesbae · 3 years

Text

Masked Windfall

Pairing— Park Jimin x reader x Jeon Jungkook

Genre— SMUT, strangers to lovers au

Warnings— Switch!Jimin, Dom!Jungkook, Switch!reader, threesome, explicit unprotected and somewhat rough sex (stay safe my friends), double penetration (but like a bj and in your business at the same time? I’m bad with terminology I’m sorry), brief handjob, fingering, multiple orgasms, a booty slap, praise kink, slight derogatory kink, brief guy on guy action, nipple play, hair pulling, lots of kissing, teasing, swearing, PHEW I think that’s all? Please let me know if I forgot something

Word Count— 6k

Win(d)fôl: a piece of unexpected good fortune || After a bad breakup, you’ve given up on the prospect of a relationship, and on romance in general. Things take a turn once you get dragged to a mysterious party an encounter an alluring stranger.

A/N— Happy 2021~ I hope you guys enjoy this sinful fic! This was the first fic I ever wrote a threesome scene for and I was quite happy with how it turned out. Reviews and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

Ever since your breakup, it was as if love was in the air for everyone but you. Seeing happy couples everywhere served as a constant reminder of your bitter split with your longtime boyfriend. Your jerk ex-boyfriend dumped you right before the holiday season, even after you had planned to spend Christmas and New Years’ with him. Left dejected and inconsolable, you gave up on the idea of romance.

“You gotta stop moping around,” your friend, Chungha, tried to cheer you up.

Chungha was single too, but by choice. Boys (and girls) were constantly flinging themselves at her. She didn’t care for a relationship at this time, and would rather opt for meaningless one night stands.

“Come with me tonight!” she excitedly shoved a flyer in your face.

“Love is Out, Lust is In! An exciting one night event dedicated to adventurous singles who just want to have fun…” you read the flyer aloud, “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

“Girl, you gotta stop feeling sorry for yourself! It’s not your fault that that idiot dumped you. To be honest, I always thought you could do so much better,” Chungha rubbed your back, “I’m not gonna force you to meet anyone new, but one night out can’t hurt. You might even have a serendipitous encounter!”

“Fine, I’ll go. But just to watch over you, I don’t want some creep to follow you around all night,” you caved in.

“I love my little knight in shining armor! This’ll be so fun,” she excitedly clung onto your arm, “I’ll pick you up tonight. Wear something sexy! I think the motif is black? Something appropriate for an anti-lovey dovey stuff.”

It was nearly time for Chungha to pick you up. You concluded that dressing up for the first time in ages was the right move. Maybe it was about damn time to move on from your past.

“Ohhh girl you look amazing!” Chungha praised as you stepped outside, “There’s no way you WON’T be getting dicked down tonight.”

“Oh hush, before I change my mind. I haven’t worn anything this revealing in forever,” you tried to hide your embarrassment.

You were wearing a black mesh top that revealed your bra (the one that makes your boobs look the best of course) paired with a flattering skirt. You felt sexy, but you didn’t have the confidence that you used to. Chungha also looked amazing, but that was a given.

“Where did you learn about this event?” you asked as she drove.

“My friends in the cabaret club told me about it,” she answered.

“You have friends who work in a cabaret club? That’s cool,” you mused as you gazed out the window.

“Not exactly. It’s just called that; it’s really just a group of girls who like to brunch on the weekends. The place we’re going to is known for being a bit secretive,” she smiled.

“What does that mean?” you start to get anxious.

“You’ll see!” she said gleefully.

The venue looked more like some millionaire’s mansion. The property was stowed away at the end of a sketchy road that was more akin to a beaten up dirt path. However, you saw that the lot in front of the house was littered with fancy cars; from G Wagons to Bugattis. The guests emerging from the vehicles all looked like celebrities.

“Where the hell are we?” you asked Chungha.

“Not quite sure, but I can’t wait to find out,” she was also awestruck.

Upon arrival, a gentleman stationed at the entrance requested for your invitation. Chungha pulled out a fancy envelope and casually handed it to him. It looked far more formal than the flyer she showed you earlier.

“Is this your plus one?” he gruffly asked.

“Yep,” Chungha linked her arm in yours.

“Very well. Here are your masks. Enjoy your stay,” he responded curtly.

“Masks? Chungha, seriously. Where the hell are we? I was picturing some dingy club based off of the flyer you showed me. Not to mention that I am drastically underdressed,” you admitted as you helped her put on her mask.

Chungha took the sparkly white mask that was adorned with feathers, which was fitting since it made her look even more angelic. Your mask was matte black accented with gold trimmings. It was far more elegant than the outfit you were wearing.

“Okay, I confess. I made the flyer. I knew you’d decline if I told you it was actually a swanky invite only shindig. I’m sorry for lying! I just really wanted to take you out,” she pouted.

Her puppy dog eyes worked on you every time.

“I forgive you. I don’t know if I’d ever get to experience something like this without you anyway,” you pulled her in for a hug.

“Aw yay! Alright, we’re gonna have a bunch of fun tonight! Also, you look hot. Don’t worry about what you look like. Plus, I have a feeling that people aren’t gonna care,” she says as soon as you both enter the foyer.

Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw the most sumptuous house imaginable. The foyer opened the house up to two grand staircases. The baroque decor screamed nothing but lavish expectations for the rest of the house. Chungha led the way into the large room past the staircases. The room was even more magnificent than the entrance, with white marble pillars creating the doorways.

The place was bustling with activity. Once you finished admiring the place, your attention turned to the guests. Some women were wearing seductive gowns, while others were only wearing beautiful (and probably extremely expensive) lingerie. All of the men were wearing suits or tuxedos. With the motley of outfits you observed, you figured what you were wearing really wasn’t that strange.

“Drinks ladies?” a waitress materialized from thin air.

“Yes please! Thanks,” Chungha quickly grabbed two glasses.

Your eyes widened as the waitress walked away. She was wearing a thin white sheet that was completely see through, and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

You realized that this must have been their uniform, as the rest of the servers were dressed the same way. Both males and females.

“CHUNGHA!” a shrill voice cut through the air.

“Ah hey! Thank you so much for inviting me!” Chungha greeted the girl who called out to her.

“Of course! I live for these parties! I’ve never seen hotter men anywhere else,” the girl winked, “My uncle wants the guests to know that all of the servers are available. All the rooms upstairs are unlocked, unless they’re being used of course. I hope you ladies get a good catch tonight!” the girl quickly hugged both of you before scampering away.

“The servers are all available…? For what?” you shot a confused look to Chungha.

“I think you can figure that out,” she smiled sheepishly.

“Chungha, did you invite me to a freaking orgy!?” you cried out.

“You said you wanted to watch over me!” she playfully argued, “You’re already here, ___. You might as well try to enjoy yourself.”

“I guess I’ll settle for people watching,” you sighed.

“Oh! I see someone I know, I’ll be right back,” Chungha squeezed your arm before disappearing into the crowd.

After snatching another drink from a scandalously clad waiter, you retreated to an empty corner. You hoped to observe the guests unnoticed and unbothered. After about half an hour, you noticed an odd pattern. People would woo their target, disappear for a bit, and then return to continue the hunt. Their clothing was often disheveled once they resurfaced, but it didn’t really matter when they were bound to be torn off again.

“Bored?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“I’m thoroughly entertained,” you answered without taking your eyes off of the party.

“I think I could bring you more entertainment,” the man suggested as he gripped your hips.

“Get your hands off of me!” you push him off.

The assailant was an older man, at least 30 years older than you, and he seemed bewildered that you turned him down. His breath reeked of alcohol, and the dilation of his eyes alluded to his other indulgences of the night.

“I was promised that everyone at this party wanted to have some fun,” he angrily grasped your arm.

You cried out in pain. You were about to punch him in the face until someone else beat you to it. The man crumpled to the ground clutching his bloody nose.

“You little shit! I’ll find out who you are and ruin your life!” the man threatened.

“Mind your tone, worm. Or do I need to beat you senseless to remind you of your place?” your savior shot a baleful glare at the pathetic man who now cowered in fear.

“Are you okay?” your rescuer asked in a soft tone after the man was out of sight.

“Much better now, thank you. That guy was crazy. I’m ___,” you raised your hand for a handshake.

“I’m Jimin. Pleasure to meet you,” he delicately kissed your hand.

His intricate silver mask matched his hair. Even with his face half covered, you could tell that he was remarkably handsome. His dark suit made him look professional yet charming. You felt out of place standing beside him.

“Have you found a partner yet?” he asked bluntly.

“I’m not looking for one; I’m just here to take care of my friend. I don’t think I belong here,” you admitted.

“Why not? I know half of your face is hidden, but I’m willing to bet that you’re more gorgeous than half the people here. I like your style, it shows that you don’t really care for the norm,” Jimin gave you a thumbs up.

Even though it was meant as a compliment, it was off putting to know that you really did stick out like a sore thumb.

“Thanks,” you replied softly, “Have you found yours?”

“Nah, I hate big parties like this. Especially this one,” he shrugged.

“Then why are you here?” you figured that he’d have a line of women begging to sleep with him.

“Much like you, I’m watching over a friend. However, I have lost track of him. Where’s your friend?”

“I lost track of her too,” you laughed.

“If you don’t mind, could we go somewhere quieter? I’d love to get to know you better. Wait, not like that. I genuinely mean I’d like to have a conversation with you,” his flushed cheeks made him even cuter.

“Sure, lead the way, my noble hero,” you took his hand in yours.

It was a bold move, and you usually preferred to play it safe. Tonight was different. You’ll probably never see this guy again. Where’s the harm in flirting a little?

“Of course, my lady,” he played along.

He led you outside to the gardens. Fairy lights were strung up everywhere, giving the gardens an inviting aura. Tall shrubbery caught your eye. Jimin’s eyes followed your gaze.

“It’s a maze,” he said, observing your curiosity.

“This place has an actual labyrinth?” your eyes widened in disbelief.

“Wanna go explore it? I can’t guarantee you that we won’t get lost,” he offered.

“Yes please!” your eyes lit up.

Jimin couldn’t help but smile at your ebullience. How did someone so sweet end up in a twisted place like this?

“Can we take off these silly masks now? I hate wearing mine,” Jimin squeezed your hand.

“Sure, I don’t care. I apologize in advance if you go blind after seeing my face,” you jested.

You both took a moment to soak in each other’s true appearances. Jimin was more handsome than you could’ve dreamt. His individually delicate features attributed to an overall godly image that you had a hard time believing was real.

“Even more beautiful than I imagined,” Jimin acknowledged you with an approving smile, “Let’s ditch this stupid soiree,” he held out his arm for you.

Abandoning the masks on the ground, you practically dragged Jimin into the labyrinth. Corn mazes at Fall Festivals were fun, but this was the real deal. The hedges were at least 3 meters tall. No one would be able to find you if you actually got lost here.

“I think I heard that the trick is to keep to the right wall,” Jimin explained.

“Why don’t we take turns choosing which way to go? Unless you’re scared of getting lost,” you teased.

“Don’t get mad at me when we’ve been stuck in here for days,” he laughed.

You traversed the maze hand in hand with Jimin. The conversation began to flow naturally. Jimin listened to you intently and replied thoughtfully.

The night darkened as the party was left further behind. Normally, this eerie setting would frighten you, but your company made it bearable. Nothing but the moonlight lit your path now. You were too busy enjoying yourself to realize that you both were hopelessly lost.

“I hope you don’t mind me pointing out that this is the third dead end we’ve encountered in the past two minutes,” Jimin elucidated once you found yourselves staring at a green barrier yet again.

“Do you think someone will come to rescue us?” you started to panic.

“Definitely not tonight. Probably not tomorrow either,” Jimin answered brusquely.

“Let’s retrace our steps again. I might end up eating you if we really do get stuck out here,” you tried to joke.

“Eat me?” Jimin chuckled, “My dear, what if I end up eating you?”

“Sorry pretty boy, but I feel like I could easily beat your ass in hand to hand combat,” you laugh as you turn to leave.

Suddenly, your back was being pinned against a hedge. Jimin placed one of his hands on your shoulder and the other one on your waist.

“Let me rephrase that. What if I end up eating you out?” he raised an eyebrow suggestively.

“I might enjoy that. However,” you quickly hook your leg around his knee to dead leg him.

Jimin’s surprise gave you the opportunity to knock him to the ground. You wrapped your right arm around his left arm, effectively pinning him down. You firmly gripped his left wrist with the same arm, rendering both of his arms useless.

“I don’t think you’re capable of doing that right now,” you fake a pout as your free hand wanders from his chest down to his crotch.

He was already somewhat hard when you began to palm him through his pants. You planted a soft kiss on his neck, sucking slightly before breaking contact. Jimin moaned at the sensation, his hips bucking up into your hand.

“What do you want, pretty boy?” you whispered in his ear as you cupped his length in your hand.

“Oh my god I want to fuck you,” he pleaded.

“You’re in no position to fuck anyone,” you reminded him, tightening your grip on his arms.

“I want you to fuck me, ___,” Jimin’s whines grew desperate.

“Is that so?” you say as you unzip his pants, “Here outside? On the ground? That’s a bit improper for a prince like you, don’t you think?”

His erection was fully exposed now. You slowly pumped him, pleased with his length. It took every bit of self-control to not immediately pounce on his dick. You traced your thumb around the soft tip, causing him to moan again.

“I don’t care. I just need my cock buried in you,” Jimin replied between moans.

“You’re so needy. I guess I could help you out,” you release him from your clutches.

Jimin instantly knocked you onto your back as soon as he was freed. He pinned you the same way you pinned him. You were both impressed and shocked that he learned how to do it already.

“That was a cheeky display. Very hot. I admit that I’ve never begged for pussy before, so props to you,” Jimin awarded you plaudits.

His free hand snaked its way down to your clothed pussy, pleased to find that you were already wet. He toyed with your clit through the fabric of your panties. He relished watching your squirm beneath him.

“It’s not so fun being pinned down, huh?” he kissed your neck in a similar fashion, except he ended his kiss with forceful suckling that was sure to leave a mark.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of fun,” you tried to keep your cool, but were failing miserably.

“Do you want me to touch you, my dear ___?” Jimin asked sweetly.

“Please do,” you exhaled with exasperation.

“You can beg better than that,” he admonished.

“Jimin, fuck me until I forget my own name,” you begged.

“You’ll only know my name by the end of tonight,” Jimin promised as he pulled your panties aside.

He slid in a finger to test how wet you were. You squealed with delight as he easily stuck in two fingers. He expertly curled them in you, grazing your g-spot. Your body tried to move to cope with the pleasure, but Jimin refused to let you go.

“You’re staying right here until I say so. I enjoyed going along with your power play, but you have to learn that I’m the one in charge,” he smirked.

His thumb circled your clit as he mercilessly fingered you. Your legs spasmed as your orgasm led a wave of euphoria across your body.

“Jimin, I’m--oh fuck, I’m cumming,” you cried out.

Jimin helped you ride it out, not slowing down his pace. However, he still didn’t slow down afterward. Your clit was oversensitive and tears began to well in your eyes.

“You’re beautiful when you cum, I want to see it again,” he praised as his pace quickened yet again.

It wasn’t long before your second orgasm hit. The bliss was more intense this time, causing you to cry out even louder. Jimin finally pulled his fingers out of you, then promptly popped them into his mouth.

“You taste like a delicacy,” he said after licking his lips, “You ready to take this cock?”

You nodded silently, as you were attempting to catch your breath.

Jimin aligned his hips with yours. He tantalizingly ran his dick along your wet folds. His tip eventually teased your entrance by barely entering before he took it out again. He loved watching your body beg to be fucked; your hips seemed to move by themselves as they tried to buck into him.

“Jimin, I can’t take this anymore. Stick it in already!” you yelled.

“So impatient,” Jimin chuckled, “Ready?”

“Yes!”

Jimin slowly inserted himself in you. You groaned at the feeling of finally being stretched out by his cock. His tip was fully inside you when a commotion interrupted him.

“We’re fucking lost bro,” a guy said.

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if you listened to me in the first place!” his companion retorted.

Jimin immediately pulled out and helped you up. He shoved his erection into his pants before leaning against a hedge to blend into the shadow.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to go in!” the first man bickered back.

“I said ‘I bet no one else is in there, let’s check it out’”, his companion explained.

“Okay, well now we’re lost. We haven’t even seen a single person since we’ve entered.”

Jimin took you by the hand and quietly led you out of the dead end. He didn’t know where the interrupters were, but he simply went in the opposite direction of their voices.

“We’re all alone now. Pull down your pants, Hobi,” you heard one of the guys say.

“Make me, Yoongi,” the other guy challenged.

“You won’t be so cheeky when my balls are in your mouth,” Yoongi replied, his voice suddenly lower and domineering.

The sound of clothes being ripped off mixed with passionate groans and wet noises grew further away as Jimin navigated through the maze.

“They sound like they’re having fun,” you broke the silence.

“That should have been us,” Jimin was obviously annoyed, “I’m gonna get us the fuck out of this goddamn maze. I swear to god, I’m going to dick you down properly tonight.”

You didn’t know which was more impressive: sheer luck or Jimin’s determination. Either way, one of those things (or maybe some of both) allowed both of you to finally emerge from the maze’s clutches.

Jimin dragged you back to the mansion while completely ignoring everyone who called out to him. You’re not surprised by his popularity; this man looks like he was carved by God himself.

The party had only escalated inside the mansion. Guests had started to forgo public decency altogether. You saw at least three explicit acts of fornication on your way up to the private rooms.

Once upstairs, you heard nothing but people deep in the throes of passion on the other side of just about every door. Jimin led you past them all, not even stopping in front of the ones indicated as ‘vacant’. At the end of the neverending hall was a large ornate wooden door. Its style clashed with the sleek marble that decorated the rest of the mansion.

Jimin whipped out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. You weren’t prepared for what was on the other side. Unlike the modern style that fitted the rest of the house, this room was decorated with wood.

The carved wooden furniture gleamed brightly due to their polish. The room itself was huge. A king sized bed awaited you at the opposite wall. Elegant curtains draped around the bed, reminding you of the beds royalty would use in movies. Even though the room gave off a cozy aura, it still boasted opulence.

“You like it?” Jimin asked once he saw you gazing around the room in awe.

“It’s beautiful. It feels like I’m in some Elvish Woodland King’s room or something,” you spoke honestly.

“That’s high praise,” he chuckled, “C’mon. I believe we have some unfinished business,” he pulled you onto the bed.

Jimin kissed your neck, peppering in nibbles that made you shudder. You slipped off your skirt and panties as he fondled your breasts. You helped him undress as you threw off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. You held back a gasp when his abs and toned chest were revealed. You figured he was fit, but you didn’t realize how fit.

His fingers found their way back into your pussy. Jimin sucked on your neck as his nimble fingers made you wetter by the second. Your back arched as your moaned in pleasure when his thumb played with your clit.

“I’m so fucking wet, Jimin,” you breathed into his ear.

“All for me, baby?” he cooed.

“Who else? Honestly, I’ve never been this aroused in my life,” you admitted.

“I’m happy I could change that for you. If you liked my fingers that much, let’s see what my cock can do for you,” he winked as he tugged off his pants.

Jimin spread your legs open as far as they could go. He didn’t have the patience to tease you this time. He filled your pussy up with the entirety of his cock. You relished the stretch; you’ve been waiting all night for this the moment you laid eyes on him.

Jimin began vigorously thrusting into you. The sound of his hips slamming into you coupled with the wet noises of your sopping pussy were drowned out by moans from both parties. Hearing Jimin’s grunts only turned you on more, and the same could be said whenever Jimin heard your melodic moans.

Jimin leaned over to makeout with you, his tongue dipping between your parted lips. You clawed at his back while you kissed him back with ferocious reciprocity. You were getting close to climaxing yet again.

“Jimin, I’m so--”

“Missionary? I know you can do better than that,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted you.

“Fuck off, can’t you see that I’m busy?” Jimin replied angrily, yet he never stopped fucking you.

You were so embarrassed that you grabbed a pillow to hide your face. One person seeing you like this was already flustering enough, but two? Although your mind immediately went to shaming you for being in such a compromising position, it was also kind of a turn on.

“Aw, is she shy? That’s cute,” the unfamiliar boy said.

“What do you want?” Jimin finally pulled out to actually hold a conversation with the intruder.

“I got bored. I figured I’d come in here and jack off or something. I didn’t think you’d be using it,” the voice got closer.

“Well, I am. So get lost,” Jimin growled.

Suddenly, the pillow that covered your face was yanked off. Looking down at you was a man whose beauty rivaled Jimin’s (though you didn’t think that was possible). The man had more of a boyish devil-may-care look. His long dark hair framed his face perfectly, as it showed off his sharp jawline. He traced a finger from your cheek down to your chin.

“She’s cute,” he gave Jimin an approving nod.

“Yeah, and she’s mine. Go away, Jungkook,” Jimin was getting more frustrated by the second.

“Yours? Are you guys dating already?” Jungkook raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“No, but--”

“Then it should be fine if I did this,” Jungkook cupped your face with one hand as he bent down to kiss you.

“Jungkook!” Jimin threw a pillow at him.

Jungkook chuckled as the pillow harmlessly bounced off of him. He deepened the kiss, and soon your tongues were swirling over each other. One of his hands wandered over to your breasts. He pinched your nipple, causing you to gasp into his mouth.

“Oh, she’s so sensitive,” Jungkook smirked, “Let me play with her after you.”

“She’s not a toy,” Jimin defended you.

“It’s okay,” you said softly.

“What?” both of the boys asked in unison.

“You can both use me...however you like,” you looked away shyly, bewildered at what you had just said.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Jungkook grinned.

“You’re too sweet for your own good, ___. Are you sure?” Jimin asked.

You simply nodded, not able to make eye contact with either of them.

“Alright, baby. Let me take care of you first. Jungkook, you can watch how a man properly fucks a lady,” Jimin glared at Jungkook.

Jungkook stripped down to his underwear as Jimin flipped you onto your knees. You moaned loudly as he started hitting it from the back. This position allowed him to penetrate you even deeper. You buried your face in the sheets in an attempt to muffle your whines.

“Nuh uh,” Jimin tsked as he grabbed a fistful of your hair.

He pulled your head up, exposing your lustful moans. He thrusted harder when he heard you. You opened your eyes to find Jungkook intently staring at you. Feeling cheeky, you made a ‘come here’ motion with one of your pointer fingers.

Jungkook happily obliged. Instead of directly kissing you, he licked up your neck, causing you to shudder. He sucked lightly on your neck as he once again played with your boobs.

“You’re not mad, Jimin?” he was surprised.

“She got wetter. Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” Jimin was lost in pure bliss.

Jungkook pulled you into another heated makeout session. You periodically moaned into his mouth whenever he tugged at your nipples. You whined as he broke the kiss.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook stroked your cheek, “Wanna try something?” he asked.

You eagerly nodded. It was hard to think when one gorgeous man was making out with you and pinching your nipples, while another gorgeous man was roughly fucking you from behind.

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out,” Jungkook ordered.

You complied, opening as wide as you could. You watched Jungkook reveal his hard cock, which made your mouth water. His dick was bigger than Jimin’s, but less girthy. It had a little curve that made it look prettier for some reason.

“Want me to put it in? I’d love to see how deep you can take it,” Jungkook stroked his cock.

“I’ll take it all,” you said confidently.

Jungkook smiled at your determination. He lightly placed the tip onto your tongue. You twirled your tongue around it, making Jungkook moan with surprise.

“Maybe she’s not as shy as I thought,” he said to Jimin.

Jimin harshly spanked your ass, causing you to jerk forward. You heard him chuckle behind you.

“I love it when good girls go bad. They’re always the most fun,” Jimin reached his hand around you to play with your clit.

You almost lost control in your arms and fell forward when Jungkook grabbed you.

“You have to be a good girl and hold yourself up. We can fuck you from both sides if you do that, babygirl,” Jungkook ran his thumb along your drooly lips.

You propped yourself back up on your arms and opened your mouth again for Jungkook. He patted your head in approval before placing his dick back onto your tongue. He began pushing himself into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Blink twice if it’s too much,” Jungkook instructed.

To his surprise, you managed to take in his full length. You kept gagging since Jimin was thrusting you forward, but that just made it feel better for Jungkook. Jungkook let you know that he was going to start face fucking you, to which you nodded in response. Well, as much as you could nod while his penis was in your mouth.

It didn’t take long for both of the both to boys to fuck you in unison. They rhythmically pulled out and thrusted into you at the exact same time. The intensity of everything turned you on so much, you could feel your juices running down your legs.

Your climax hit you like a truck. Your legs spasmed under you as you cried and gagged on Jungkook’s dick. The feeling of you cumming on Jimin’s cock brought him to the edge. Almost immediately after, Jimin pulled out and came all over your ass.

“Switch places with me,” Jungkook instructed Jimin, “You didn’t think you were done yet, did you?” he winked at you before pulling his dick out of your mouth.

Your sensitivity was through the roof. Jungkook didn’t give you any warning before he inserted himself in you. Jungkook went even deeper than Jimin, and your legs were on the verge of giving out.

“It looks like she can’t hold herself anymore,” Jimin observed with a sly smile.

“I guess I have to do all the work. Stupid slut,” Jungkook groaned, abruptly snatching your arms.

He chuckled when you momentarily fell forward onto your face, but he easily lifted you back up by pulling back on your wrists. You’ve never been roughly restrained like that before, but you wouldn’t complain. Jungkook’s powerful thighs slammed into you repeatedly.

You couldn’t begin to comprehend how sinful you looked: titties bouncing, messy hair, and a lustful expression that rivaled that of succubi themselves. Not to mention you were practically glowing from the film of sweat that developed over the night.

“I’m jealous that he’s kissed you more than I have,” Jimin pouted before he cupped your face.

Wriggling underneath you, Jimin made it easier for you to kiss him. His pillowy lips felt heavenly as he playfully fondled your breasts. He didn’t twist or pinch your nipples like Jungkook did. Instead, he massaged them in a way that still felt delightful.

“Dude, your junk is really close to mine,” Jungkook complained.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jimin responded between your kisses.

Jungkook’s pace started getting sloppy. You could tell he was close just by his irregular breaths. The room was filled with lewd sounds. Jungkook’s grunts, Jimin’s moans, and your mewls all blended into a chorus of carnal pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jungkook stuttered before pulling out.

You felt his hot juices splatter across your backside. You toppled onto Jimin when Jungkook let go of your wrists. Jimin just chuckled and held you in a warm embrace.

“You did so well, ___,” he praised before kissing your forehead.

“Was that your first threesome? If so, I’m impressed,” Jungkook cleaned you up with a warm washcloth.

“Mhm,” was all you could muster up to answer his question.

“She’s pretty out of it. Should she stay here for the night?” Jimin asked Jungkook.

“You’re offering to house her? You must have really loved her pussy,” Jungkook laughed.

“Shut up, I’m being serious. I don’t want to let her go back out there to those animals,” Jimin disclosed.

“Did she come alone?” Jungkook sat at the foot of the bed.

“She said she was watching a friend...I don’t think she mentioned who though. Hey, ___, darling, who did you come with?” Jimin gently questioned.

“Chungha,” you said meekly.

“Holy shit. Everyone has been trying to get with her all night,” Jungkook was shocked, “Yeah, I think her friend will be fine on her own. I can watch after her if you want.”

“By watch you mean fuck?” Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Who’s to say I haven’t already?” Jungkook replied cheekily, “You’ve been the most fun I’ve had in a while though,” Jungkook affectionately began scratching your back.

Your eyelids were getting heavier with each passing moment. You instinctively clutched onto Jimin tighter. You’ve always been a cuddler when it was time to sleep.

“I’m gonna go, want me to lock the door?” you heard Jungkook say.

“Yes please. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jimin sent him off.

“Are you sleepy?” he asked while stroking your hair.

“Mhm. And hungry,” you said half asleep.

“What would you like to eat?” Jimin inquired.

“Grilled cheese,” you said without skipping a beat.

“Just grilled cheese? I could get you anything you want. Lobster, caviar, takoyaki, or maybe even steak?” Jimin was eager to take care of you.

“What time is it?” you asked groggily.

“Uh, a little past 1am.”

“It’s time for a midnight snack. And grilled cheese is the perfect midnight snack,” you nodded your head to confirm your reasoning.

“God, you’re adorable. Alright, a grilled cheese will be here soon,” he kissed your forehead again.

“You go make it?” you pouted, not wanting him to leave your side.

“No, I just texted one of the chefs,” he answered.

“Oh, you’re friends with a chef? That’s nice.”

“Somewhat? They work for my father.”

“Is your father the head chef?”

“No, he’s a businessman,” Jimin chuckled.

“Do you like business? Like your father?”

“No, I actually detest it. My father’s riches mean nothing if he can’t even love his family. He does ridiculous things to showcase his ‘love’ but I don’t buy it. Like this stupid fucking party that he throws every year. His excuse is that he’s providing any luxury money can buy. It’s all just bullshit,” Jimin sounded upset.

“This party? Your dad hosted it?” intrigue stirred you from your sleepy state.

“Yeah, this is the house I grew up in. This is my room,” Jimin admitted.

You were silent for a bit before responding, “I’m sorry your dad is a dick.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. At least one good thing came out of tonight,” he squeezed you tighter.

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. Jimin retrieved the delivery. Never in a million years would you have thought that you’d be eating grilled cheese off of a silver platter. Jimin ate quietly beside you.

“I don’t know if this is too forward, but would you like to go on a date with me sometime?” he finally piped up.

“I literally can’t think of anyone that has seen me more intimately than you. Well, besides Jungkook. Of course, I’ll go on a date with you,” you leaned over to kiss Jimin’s nose.

“I guess the dating timeline is a little off since you’re spending the night here too,” Jimin laughed before stopping himself, “Wait, you are spending the night, right?”

“I have no idea where Chungha is, and she’s my ride,” you shrugged.

“You’re welcome to say here if you’d like,” he offered.

“I suppose I can clear my schedule for you,” you teased.

With a tummy full of grilled cheese, it didn’t take long for you to fall sound asleep in Jimin’s arms.

[9:24am from Chungha] BITCH! I heard rumors you slept with THE Park Jimin?! A different rumor said you slept with Jeon Jungkook??? Explain please???

[10:19am] What if I slept with both?

[10:20am from Chungha] NO WAY! Tell me all about it asap

“You good?” Jimin nuzzled your neck.

“Never better,” you smiled.

388 notes · View notes

monster-bait · 4 years

Text

Holt the Witch’s Familiar; M Cat Familiar x F Human, NSFW Monster Match

Monster Match for @moonlightreetops: What I usually look for in a partner is someone that is the equivalent to bedrock personality wise. I need stability and understanding in some sort of way to make me feel secure in a relationship...I collect macabre trinkets and spend most of my time doing little creative projects. I watch scifi flix, anime and play DND so big geek vibes here

I was *determined* to give him the name of an actual, historical familiar, and I didn’t name him Vinegar Tom, so YOU’RE WELCOME. Also, I left a TON of Holt on the cutting room floor, so there will likely be a sequel to this down the road!

The doll had a particularly creepy face.

“Miss Claudette is from the mid-eighteen hundreds,” the female auctioneer read, “once belonging to a privileged little girl of the era, she is a magnificent model of the expectations of a typical Victorian lady.”

You bit your lip in anticipation as hands reached into the frame, turning the doll on her pedestal to show off the detailing on the dress; the creepy, painted bisque face forgotten.

You had no idea who he was—he never spoke, never stepped into the frame, never did anything other than manipulate the items at the behest of the sultry voiced woman in charge, but you’d be lying if you pretended he wasn’t the reason you kept tuning in week after week to their oddity auction, his lovely hands and the banter afterwards.

Long and white and sculpted, veins and tendons standing out in relief, his hands were their own work of art, like a living sculpture. The endlessly long fingers were tipped in equally lengthy nails, painted matte black and ending in lethal-looking points, you supposed calling them claws would likely be more accurate.

You wondered, not for the first time, if he were a werewolf, or some similar creature.

He wouldn’t have the nails all the time, you reminded yourself, thinking of what Kenzie had said. The chipper werewolf had been in your gaming group for several months, a welcome addition, for geeky clubs tended to be overrun with guys, and you’d become friendly with her almost immediately, bonding over a shared love of anime and crafting. You’d casually wondered aloud if werecreatures retained elements of their bestial side, like sharp claws, perhaps, but the freckle-faced young woman had quashed your supposition.

“Nope,” she’d announced cheerfully, seating herself at the gaming table. “Unless it’s like, the day of the change, maybe.”

You had no idea who or what he was, but conversing with him after the auction each week had become a bright spot in your weekend calendar.

It had started when you discovered the wonderful, weird world of oddities auctions run weekly on Instagram. You’d always had a penchant for the macabre and had amassed a nice little collection over the years, but now small businesses were hurting and you could enjoy oddity shopping from the comfort of your phone. You’d heard of the Cat & Crow but had never made the drive to the neighboring city to visit the shop in person, and were excited to see what they had to offer.

“Welcome everyone to the Cat & Crow, thanks for joining us today.”

The woman before the camera wore the uniform of every other social media witch you followed—trendy, artfully tattered black clothes, her raven-colored hair done up in a crown of braids and dreadlocks; her eyeliner expertly winged, tattoos that appeared to be tree branches reaching across her clavicle, with half a dozen rings on each hand.

“Winners, Holt will be contacting you directly at the auction’s end, please be ready with your method of payment. We’ve got a lot of unique items to get through today, so let's get started!”

It wasn’t until the third week you’d tuned in that you’d chatted with the mysterious Holt. You’d been outbid on several of the items you liked, but managed to snag two others, including a victorian poison ring, and he’d recognized your screen name.

Hello again! What were you the big winner of this week? Lot 23 and 47...the onyx and gold poison ring and the pocket-sized surgical tool set. Hmm! Big weekend plans?

You’d laughed aloud at your laptop, cheeks coloring despite the fact you were alone. Nothing nefarious as all that, I swear! Although my table game group had better stay on their toes tonight…

Oh fun! I used to belong to one of those before I moved. So what are you guys playing right now?

After that week, he asked after your game group at the end of every auction. You told him of the hours-long game of Catan, the entire month of Call of Cthulhu, the bickering session that had broken out over a game of Azule.

That sounds great actually. I need to start doing fun things again, since we’ve started the auctions I feel like I’m working 24/7.

You bit your lip now, thinking of his words from the previous week.

After the creepy doll had been some Templar altar piece, a hand of glory with only one candle remaining, and a terrifying victorian wind-up toy, and the only thing to which you’d paid attention was his hands and his sharp claws, shifting things around as the witchy-looking woman spoke.

You’d realized your shopping habit had become more expensive than you’d initially counted on, and that for the last several weeks you were truly only bidding on items as a way to talk to him after the auction’s close. Just ask him. You don’t need to buy anything today, you don’t even like the stuff! Just take a deep breath and do it. Deciding the voice in your head was right, you did as it advised, sucking in a breath and leaning over your keyboard before you changed your mind.

Hi! Not a winner this week, nothing really caught my eye. You swallowed hard, pushing on. I wanted to invite you to join our group sometime! We meet every Saturday at the Melted Meeple, so tonight, lol! You grimaced at yourself, but persevered. We’re just playing CAH right now, but there’s talk of a D&D campaign starting up. The more the merrier!

You waited a minute, then two, before pushing yourself up from the desk. If he didn’t respond, it wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself. He was working, after all, and you really did need to get ready to go meet your friends that evening. Hair fluffed, clothes changed, the handful of dishes you’d left in the sink washed and put away...you went back to your laptop just before you needed to get going, holding your breath as you looked at the screen.

That sounds great! I have to finish things up here, but hopefully I won’t be too late. This will be fun, I feel like we’re old friends at this point!

You told yourself the bounce in your step as you left was simply because it was a nice evening, that you were happy to spend time with your friends and nothing more. That’s it. Just another normal night.

“So what are you going to do?” you asked him for the dozenth time that evening, before biting into a crust of melty cheese, your eyes rolling back in bliss. The Melted Meeple specialized in gaming and grilled cheese, and they excelled at both.

Holt shrugged, spearing a sweet potato fry. He was a finicky eater, carefully cutting things with a knife and fork, scrutinizing the menu every week as though it were the first time he’d seen it, before ordering the exact same thing. He took his time with things and could not be rushed—spearing his fries one at a time, swirling the straw in his drink until the ice had all but melted into the alcohol—and as a result, the two of you spent more time tucked away at your own little table than you did playing the group’s game, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were smitten.

You’d been a nervous wreck that first night, raising your head anxiously every time the Meeple’s great doors were pulled open, but you did your best to hide it from your friends. You were used to being the steady one, after all, the one who gave advice and provided a ready shoulder for the whole group...you didn’t begrudge your friends their drama and woes, but it made it hard when you had your own anxieties and nowhere to turn.

Kenzie had dropped into the seat next to you, had been going on about the latest disaster with her boyfriend when her head had snapped up, nose wrinkled.

“Ugh, cat. It’s too close to the moon to deal with smelling that.”

You hadn’t noticed the door pulling open, and weren’t entirely sure how he’d managed to do it silently, but a man who’d not been standing before the entrance a moment earlier had stood there then, his citron-green cat eyes scanning the room hesitantly. You’d known it was him instantly.

Thick raven-colored hair and bone-white skin, slim black jeans and a black leather jacket atop a blood red shirt, he was a fitting counterpart to the witch who ran the oddity auction. One of his thick, arched black brows had cocked hopefully when they landed on you staring at him, and you raised a hesitant hand in greeting, smiling when his lips split, revealing a row of blinding white teeth. You took note of the long, hooked incisors in his smile.

“Is he a werecat?” you’d hissed to Kenzie as he made his way across the huge room.

She’d sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose again. “No. Just...just a cat. I don’t get it. I’m going to grab a drink before the next game starts, you want anything?”

He was a familiar, you’d learned. A witch’s familiar, a sleek black cat when he wasn’t the handsome, slightly goth-looking man sitting across from you. His witch, the auctioneer, Arabeth the mistress of Crows—“Bethany,” he’d corrected flatly, rolling his eyes—was his business partner and co-owner of the Cat & Crow, a naturally gifted witch with no direction or commitment to the craft, according to him.

“Let me tell you, working in retail was not a career ambition for me,” he’d laughed that first night, as the two of you sat at your own small table away from the group, sharing a basket of fries before joining the game. “But the shop is successful and it keeps me busy, since she’s all but abandoned her path.”

By the end of the night, your stomach had been a riot of butterflies. He was stable and confident, a sharp departure from the majority of your friend group, you’d realized. Stable and confident, and ridiculously good looking. You’d thought he was of a middling height when you’d been seated, but he towered over you, engulfing you in a hug at the evening’s end.

“This was a lot of fun, thanks for inviting me!”

“Every Saturday,” you replied breathlessly, trying to restrain yourself from burying your face against his solid chest. You didn’t know what Kenzie was talking about, he didn’t smell like a cat at all—he smelled like black musk and pine, making you think of a dark forest on an autumn night, masculine and sexual…“I hope you’ll join us again!”

“If you’ll be here, I definitely will,” he’d said, giving you another one of those sharp-edged smiles, his eyes glowing on the dark street.

That had been over a month ago, and you were head-over heels in your crush.

He’d joined you every Saturday, and it had become your custom to eat together, away from the group before joining in whatever game was starting. When both Kenzie and another friend had flaked on going furniture shopping with you, he’d taken their place, doing the heavy lifting, putting together a bookcase, and paying for dinner afterwards, despite your insistence to the contrary. It was a revelation, having someone there to hear your problems, and you were happy to do the same, whenever he came in grumbling about his deteriorating relationship with his witch.

When your gaming group began planning its Dungeons and Dragons campaign at last, you discovered Holt had never played and wasn’t familiar with any of the rules.

“First we have to decide your character,” you explained, pushing a character sheet across the table. “Race, attributions, what you’d like your strengths to be…”

“Tell me again why I can’t be a bard who’s also a sorcerer.”

“You can cast spells as a bard! We’ve been through this!”

“I want to be sneaky and magical and have everyone love me.”

You’d come to the Cat & Crow once, popping in unannounced, and had seen him in his cat form. Sleek and sinuous, jet black with bright green eyes, the black cat had rubbed up against your ankles as you’d stood there, after being greeted by the friendly-seeming witch, mewling determinedly before darting off into the back room. Holt had come breezing out a moment later, announcing to Bethany that you were going out for sushi and would be back in an hour.

“So basically you just want to play yourself,” you laughed, receiving a not-at-all angelic smile in return.

It was the first grownup relationship you’d ever had, you’d realized with a start that evening. You loved your friends and wouldn’t change a thing about them, but it was nice not playing therapist, having a solid give-and-take of support. Your first real adult relationship, and it’s completely one sided. Brava.

Still, you thought, when he slinked through the Melted Meeple’s doors that night, dropping into a chair gracefully and announcing he was officially a free agent familiar, you were glad for the opportunity to listen, knowing he’d be just as present and solid for you.

He shrugged at your repeated question. “Go to the agency on Monday, file for a new witch, I guess.”

“Does...does that mean you’ll have to move? What if they pair you with a witch on the other side of the world? What about the shop?”

His laugh was a dark curl, full of mirth. “Nothing archaic like that. This is where I live, the shop is my day job. We’re still business partners, but she’s quitting the craft entirely and I don’t have that luxury. The magic world is ninety percent bureaucracy and paperwork, it’ll probably be at least a year before they even get to my file.”

“Oh, that’s-that’s good,” you sighed in relief, not wanting to contemplate what would happen if he had to move away. “Good! You’ll have more free time now!”

Holt’s smile was wide, the light overhead winking off his fangs as leaned across the table. “And I know just who I’m going to spend it with,” he purred, before catching your lips with his own.

You hadn’t really known what to expect from the home of a familiar—a part of you was expecting some gothic lair with dripping candles and some ancient book of dark spellwork on a pedestal—but a completely average garden-level apartment on a tight lane of historic brownstones had not been it. The neighborhood was trendy: full of crowded little bistros with packed, street-side patios and bars boasting craft cocktails on swirling chalk signs outside their doors. You didn’t mind an occasional foray into adventure, but you couldn’t imagine living somewhere so noisy and bustling.

“Here we are,” Holt announced, tugging your hand and carefully leading you down the short stairwell in front of the dark-bricked building. “The neighborhood is great, but I love my little dungeon.”

You understood his meaning the moment the door closed behind you. The apartment was small but tidy, with plush-looking furniture and towering bookshelves, each crammed with curios, macabre trinkets and gimcrack. The street-level windows did little to illuminate the space, giving it a dim, cloistered feeling, amplified by the red-shaded lamps on either side of the sofa.

Long-fingered hands encircled your waist, claws dragging lightly over your stomach, sending a shiver up your spine and reminding you remembered why you were here. You were terribly aware of your own heartbeat when warm lips pressed to the back of your neck, hot breath and the glance of fangs moving over your delicate skin, and your head tilted on its own accord, giving him better access.

“It looks like a bordello in this place,” you mused, laughing when you felt his outraged gasp against your shoulder.

“Slander!” he exclaimed, the press of his hot tongue making your back arch, “calumny and lies. I demand restitution.”

It had been two weeks since he’d kissed you over your grilled cheese sandwich, two weeks of making out like teenagers and groping each other on the street corner every Saturday, two weeks of thinking about him every night, waking heated and flushed in your bed with an ache between your thighs and slick coating your fingers, and tonight you’d decided enough was enough.

He was steady and confident and reliable, but you’d noticed that he deferred to you in almost every matter. If you asked his opinion, he gave it; if you told him he was in charge of the evening’s plans, he already had one, but he let you control the direction of things rather than steamrolling you, and you wondered if it was something he was compelled to do as a familiar. You’ve got to be the one who makes the first move, you realized. Then he’ll take over and you can stop panicking.

“I think,” you murmured into his ear that night, as you sat on the edge of the gaming table, waiting to join in on the next round, “you should show me your apartment tonight, and we can work on your rolls.” The D&D campaign had started, and two sessions in the entire campaign had been entirely waylaid by a troublesome tiefling character who refused to follow the group’s initiative, and Holt had been smug that he’d not been the new player to cause problems.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, green eyes flashing, “we can do other things while we’re there.”

The apartment was dark, but somehow you were led to the bedroom without tripping over anything, the bedding beneath you cool and thick as Holt pressed you to your back. His eyes were glowing green orbs, rapidly growing closer until your lips were captured by his own, the kiss breaking off abruptly when he leaned over your body to turn on the bedside lamp.

“What do I need to roll for seduction?”

The bed rocked as he reached back from where he straddled your body, pulling off your sandals and sending them sailing across the room. “I’m serious!” he insisted when you laughed again. “This is a serious game, remember? I don’t want to be the one who gets the whole party kicked out of a tavern.”

“Well, if you’re serious,” you began, breath hitching as your top was pushed up your body, claws dragging over the newly-exposed skin, “then you should know you can’t actually roll seduction, it’s not a skill.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

You couldn't find fault in his words as your bra was deftly unhooked and pulled away, the heat of his mouth closing over the tip of your breast before you had a chance to be chilled. The tips of his clawed hand continued to move in soft patterns over your side as his tongue worked, teasing your nipple before sucking, biting ever-so-gently before releasing it with a wet pop.

“Are you sure I can’t roll seduction? I am a magical bard, after all.”

“Nope,” you corrected on a gasp. His mouth had moved to your other breast, giving it the same treatment until both nipples were pebbled and aching. “Seduction isn’t a skill. You can roll for deception, if you have ulterior motives.”

“Absolutely not. There you go again with the slander. What about...persuasion? Can I roll persuasion as a means of seduction?”

You unbuttoned the dark shirt he wore as he spoke, pushing apart the fabric to reveal the long, lithe shape of him above you. Broad shouldered but slender, Holt possessed none of the bulk the werewolf you’d gone out with a few times last year had. Tightly muscled and well-defined, your own clawless fingers moved down his chest, following the trail of dark hair down the hard plane of his stomach until you reached the thick bulge at the front of his jeans. The noise that emitted from his throat as you stroked the hard shape of him was very nearly a purr, and you smiled hugely, deciding to let him do his best.

“Sure, why not,” you smiled, pulling open his belt. “But I might want a perception check. Gotta check out your staff of persuasion first, make sure its on the up and up.”

You let out an undignified squeak when your skirt and knickers were pulled down as he rose, shucking his jeans before climbing over your body slowly, and you were clearly able to picture him as the giant, stalking cat you knew he occasionally was.

The soft drag of his claws over your thighs made you gasp, legs falling open, and the knuckle that pressed into your folds found you slick and eager.

“I’m glad you invited me to join the group,” he purred against your lips, sharp teeth catching them gently in a kiss. “Even if I don’t know any of the rules.”

The hard press of his erection was a molten heat against your hip and you shuddered out a breath, wanting to take him in hand but enjoying the press of his body against yours too much to force him to move. “I-I am too.”

Between your legs, his hand was buried against your sex. His sharp claws were tucked back, a finger on either side of your clit, knuckles kneading into the sensitive flesh until your hips were bucking upward to meet his hand, kneading and rolling, over and over until you were seeing stars. Pressure built behind your navel with every roll over the exposed bud of flesh, and you keened.

“I’m still having fun,” Holt went on, mouth stretching into a wide Cheshire cat-like smile, “and isn’t that the point of a game?”

The band of pressure snapped and you arched against him as throb after throb of pleasure pulsed through you. Your thighs tightened around his wrist, trapping his hand in place, and he hummed in amusement, fingers still moving as you gasped and shook, his lips pressing to yours lightly when you trembled with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I’d like to seduce you, please,” he purred, waggling his dark eyebrows. “I’m being as persuasive as possible.”

His cock was still hot when you wrapped a hand around it, giving his shaft a firm pump, dragging upwards until your fingers reached his swollen head. “You really are a big cat,” you observed when the repeated motion drew a vibrating rumble from his chest, before edging closer to the foot of the bed. His smart-assed reply was lost to another rumble when you licked a broad stripe over his exposed head, laving your tongue over the bead of moisture there.

There were several rings of nodules at the base of his head, you realized, mimicking the sharp barbs he might possess in his cat form, and you wondered how they would feel inside of you. The sharp points of his nails dragged through your hair as you sucked him into your mouth, swirling your tongue before lowering your head down his shaft, bobbing your head several times before his clawed hands were tugging you upwards.

You were reminded of his speed on the day the black cat in the shop had gone darting off to the back room in a blink of an eye when he flipped you, you cheek pressed to the mattress as he kissed up your spine, raising your hips. You felt the leaking tip of his cockhead press to your slick folds, sliding up and down before finally pushing into you, hilting himself in one thrust.

You hadn’t intended on finding a relationship, only some fun new additions to your curio shelf, you thought as has pumped into you, those textured nodules dragging deliciously over your inner walls. Claws dragged over your skin as you clenched around him, unable to stop the moan which broke from your mouth. You hadn’t been looking for a relationship, but one had found you anyway.

When his hand found its way back between your thighs, you were lost. Already gasping with every thrust of his textured cock, as soon as the rough pads of his fingers began circling your clit, you felt your tentative control slip, your core clenching and spasming around him before you were filled with heat, his rumbling purr vibrating against you as he came.

The comforter was thick and soft when he pulled it over you, once he’d withdrawn and quickly cleaned you up. Thick and soft and incredibly warm, snuggled against his chest.

“I have a confession to make.” You craned your neck up to find Holt peering down, one of his thick, dark brows cocked curiously. “You can’t actually play persuasion or deception against another player’s character. Everyone has their own freewill and agency, it doesn’t matter how silver-tongued the party’s bard is.”

“Do you mean to tell me I wasted a perfectly good persuasion play?”

“It was unnecessary but not without merit!” you yelped as he flipped you to your back, giving you his best glower as he straddled your hips. “You’ve convinced me!”

“Oh, just you wait. I am going to cast so many spells on you once once we finally get out of the bloody tavern.”

The bed, you realized, had begun to levitate, and now hung suspended in the air as you squealed. He really was a magical, sneaky bard.

“You can’t do that either,” you laughed after the bed dropped, shaking the walls. “No spells on teammates.”

“There are too many rules to this game,” he griped, pressing his cheek to your breast. You wrapped your arms around him, pushing your fingers through his thick hair. Give and take. Solid for each other.

“You have plenty of time to learn.”

His purr vibrated against you before he wriggled free from your arms to fix the blanket, pulling you against him as he resettled. “It’s a good thing I have an excellent teacher.”

#monsterbait writes #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster x reader #m monster x female reader #monster x human #monster match #monster matchmaker #witch's familiar #black cat

468 notes · View notes

yellowsuitcase · 3 years

Text

Snowed in // Draco Malfoy

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @whack-ed and @jamilelucato ‘s A Very Harry Potter Christmas challenge! My prompt was Day 9 - Snowed in during a storm. I’m fond of this imagine and I hope you are too! Happy Holidays!!!

Summary: Best friends to lovers. Y/N and Draco are on the Slytherin quidditch team, but what happens when they arrive at the changing rooms early, only to have a full blown snowstorm start right outside the tent?

Warning(s): Swearing, kissing

Word Count: 4.2k

“You ready to play, Malfoy?” Y/N asked Draco. They were strolling to the changing rooms to get dressed for their quidditch match set to take place in half an hour. They had decided to leave the common room a bit earlier than the rest of their team. Draco was the Slytherin seeker, and Y/N was one of three chasers, arguably the best. The pair had met in their second year at Hogwarts when both got picked to be on Slytherin’s team. Throughout the many many practices and high-intensity games, the team grew close to one another. Draco and Y/N, in particular, had become the best of friends. However, unbeknownst to Y/N, Draco wanted for them to be more than best friends. He’d had a crush on Y/N for as long as he could remember but never dared to tell her. The way he saw it, it was better to maintain what they had rather than risk it all by confessing.

Draco pressed the tip of his broom to the floor as he walked, using it as somewhat of a cane. When he heard Y/N’s question, he turned his head towards her. She had an excited smile on her face; it was one he was familiar with. She was always in a happy mood whenever quidditch was involved. “Are you, Y/L/N?” he asked, redirecting her question back at her.

Y/N scoffed. “I’m always ready, you know that.” Draco chuckled lightly. “I do, but Gryffindor isn’t an easy team to beat,” Draco replied. He knew the frustration of losing to Gryffindor well.

Y/N nodded and shrugged her shoulders. “That may be true, but maybe if you yank your head out of your ass and catch the snitch within the first ten minutes, we can finish them off early.” Draco faked a hurt reaction to his friend’s words by putting his hand over his chest and pasting a pained expression on his face. She stifled a laugh while Draco rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you get four goals within the first ten minutes of the game, huh?”

“Malfoy, you know that’s impossible-“ Y/N was cut off by a strong gust of cold wind slapping her in the face as she opened the door leading outside. Regardless, she pushed through; Draco was right behind her.

“I didn’t think it’d be this cold today,” she murmured. Draco nodded as he took his gloves out from his pocket and slid them onto his pale, ring clad hands. “We’ll get warm once the game gets going, don’t worry,” he replied, opting to find a silver lining. The two of them walked down the hill as fast as they could, the chilly air nipping at their exposed skin.

When they finally got into the changing rooms, they breathed a sigh of relief as they were now shielded from the cold. Draco looked around. “Nobody’s here... that’s a bit odd,” he observed. Y/N pursed her lips in thought as she scanned the changing room. “Well, we did come down a bit early. I’m sure someone will be here soon.”

Draco, who was still curious, walked over to the entrance to the tent. The strong wind hit his face again; this time, however, snow came with it. “Y/L/N! It’s snowing!” Draco exclaimed excitedly, wanting to share this with his friend. Y/N immediately dropped the black boot in her hands and rushed over to Draco. The pair smiled at the sight of the little flakes falling to the grass, rapidly coating it. But then the wind began to pick up, carrying the snowflakes with it. “Shit, it's snowing,” Draco said, realization was settling in. There was no possible way to play a match in such extreme weather. This must be the reason nobody was with them in the changing room. Draco sighed and looked at Y/N. She looked utterly crushed; she’d been looking forward to today’s match for weeks. "Let’s head back to the castle, no point being here anymore,” Draco reluctantly suggested. He knew, however, Y/N wouldn’t be easy to convince.

Y/N frowned, her eyes growing sad. “Maybe it’ll pass. It looked like it was slowing down just a second ago, didn’t you see?” she asked. Draco shook his head and put a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “It’s not going to stop, Y/L/N. Come on, let’s get out now before it gets too harsh,” he pleaded gently. But to no avail. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest and marched over to her locker. She picked up her previously discarded boot and slipped it on her foot determinedly.

“Y/L/N… they’re not going to let us play in this weather,” Draco told her. But she paid him no mind and only continued to put on her uniform. He glanced outside and saw that the snow had gotten significantly higher despite only a few minutes passing since it had started. Draco began to grow anxious, and briskly walked over to the girl, now clad in green robes. “Y/L/N, please. The snow is rising, and if we don’t leave soon, we might not be able to get back.”

He watched as Y/N sighed and looked up at him. “Why are you so hung up on some snow? It cannot possibly be that bad,” she snarled as she got to her feet and stomped over to the entrance. But when she saw the amount of snow on the grass, her anger dissipated and turned into shock. Draco threw up his hands. “I told you, we have to go now, gather your stuff,” he instructed. Y/N reluctantly stepped away from the tent’s opening, quickly unhooked her bag from her locker, and swung it over her shoulder. Draco promptly threw on his quidditch robes, as they were warmer than his regular clothes, and went to stand by the entry and wait for her. He noticed her red nose and cheeks as she walked towards him.

They looked outside at the abundance of white. Draco glanced at Y/N. She looked apprehensive. Truth be told, he was too. So without allowing himself to sit on the idea, he reached out and took her hand in his. He saw her look at him in his peripheral vision, but he didn’t meet her eyes. “Ready?” he asked. Y/N squeezed his hand in reply, making butterflies erupt in Draco’s stomach. He took a deep breath and walked through the exit and into the storm. Immediately he and Y/N were met with the painfully bitter wind. They could hardly open their eyes, much less walk against the wind.

Draco gripped Y/N’s hand tighter as he pushed himself to step forwards. Left foot right foot left foot right foot. But it was no use. The wind was too strong, and the snow was too high. His entire pant leg was soaked up to his shins. He looked behind him to see Y/N was struggling as well. Her hair was blowing violently, and she had her free hand up in an attempt to shield her face. Draco looked forward again and continued to trudge ahead. They were almost to the stairs now.

Suddenly, Draco felt Y/N release his hand. He whipped his head around to see her teetering on her feet, about to topple over into the snow. Before he could catch her, the wind pushed her backward, and her body collapsed onto the snow, sinking into it. Draco rushed over to his best friend and hurriedly stuck his hands into the snow so he could get a grip on her torso. Once he got a good hold, he locked his knees and lifted her out of the snow. She was shivering like a leaf, and her robes were now soaked. Draco could clearly see the redness of her cheeks and the purple of her lips. He was afraid of what might happen to her if they kept pressing on, so in a split-second decision, he positioned his hands underneath her armpits and raised her up and into his arms. Luckily, she got the message and swiftly wrapped her trembling legs around Draco’s waist and her arms around his neck. Once Draco was sure she was secure, he began heading back to the tent. With the wind now at his back, he got himself and Y/N inside in no time at all.

It wasn’t much warmer within the tent, but at the least, it blocked out the wind and snow, and that’s all Draco needed. He raced to the nearest bench and gingerly sat Y/N down onto it. Once she was settled, he took his bag off his back and ripped it open with shakey hands. The black handle caught his eye instantly. He reached for his wand and pulled it out pronto. Without a moment's hesitation, he muttered, “Incendio.” A small flame burst from the tip of his wand. “Hold your hands out,” he told Y/N. She listened to him and raised her hands to the warm fire. Draco patiently held his wand steady as she tried to get warm. However, after a few minutes, Y/N was still shivering aggressively. “I’m n-not gonna g-get w-warm until I g-get dry,” she stuttered through chattering teeth. Draco nodded and put out the flame on his wand, and hastily cast the hot air charm. A gust of wind blew through Y/N’s clothes and dried her right up. When she regained her composure, she said, “Thanks. S-shall I do you as well?”

“That’d be nice, yes. Are you feeling any warmer?”

“Not quite yet. But maybe if we keep casting this spell, we can fight off the cold,” Y/N mused. Draco chuckled. “That is certainly an idea, but we can’t stay here forever. We need to get back.” The same warm air he cast on her flew through him as Y/N returned the spell. It melted the snow on his shoulders. He thanked her with a nod and took a seat next to her on the old wooden bench. “Got any ideas, Y/L/N?” he asked while relighting the flame with his wand. She sighed. Her body was still shuddering. “All I know is I am not going back out there. S-suppose we should just wait for s-someone to find us?” she asked. Draco shrugged. “I thought of that as well, but I doubt anyone is venturing out into that anytime soon,” he said, gesturing to the storm raging on beyond the tent walls. “We’d have to wait until the blizzard is over before anyone attempts to locate us. And who knows how long that could be?”

Draco watched as a deep frown appeared on Y/N’s face. He knew she was afraid. Frankly, he was too. He felt like an idiot. How was it that after five years at Hogwarts, all he could do for them was light a small flame? He had pondered creating a makeshift fire pit on the ground, but the earth was likely too cold, and what if it spread? Then what would they do? Draco felt lost. He glanced around the tent, trying to look for an answer. And then he saw it—his broom. Of course!

“Y/L/N, our brooms!” he yelled abruptly, startling the girl beside him. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Our brooms! We can ride them back to the castle. Merlin, why didn’t I think of it before?” he wondered aloud as he jumped to his feet and grasped his broom between his fingers. Long ago, his father had bought the entire team Nimbus 2001s, and even though it had been roughly four years since then, the brooms still held up strong. Draco swelled with pride; he was confident they’d be able to fly them to safety. But then he looked at Y/N and his smile faded. She was still on the bench, her fingers clutching it tightly. Draco propped up his broom and walked over to the girl, kneeling on the ground before her. He took her hands in his, making her look at him. “You’re having doubts?” Draco questioned. Y/N nodded; her face looked grim. “I just… I-I don’t know, Malfoy. It doesn’t seem s-safe. I mean, what if one of us f-falls? What if I turn around and y-you’re gone? What if the wind is too strong and w-we can’t make it or what if we can’t see, o-or—”

“Shh,” Draco shushed her gently. “We can do it. I’ve seen you on your broom; you’re quicker than a bird. We have our goggles; we’ll be able to see. And if you fall, I’ll come back for you,” he assured her. Y/N grimaced. She was still afraid. Draco squeezed her hands and stood up, taking her with him. They each already had their gloves on. All they needed were the goggles. Draco pulled his out and put them on his forehead. Y/N reluctantly did the same while the blonde boy took their brooms into his hands. He offered Y/N hers, and they slowly walked to the entryway of the changing room.

“Are you ready?” Draco asked. Y/N shook her head. “No. No, I-I can’t do this. It’s too risky, Draco,” she stammered. Draco’s heart skipped a beat. She never called him by his first name. It was always his surname, Malfoy. His face must’ve shown his surprise because she immediately tried to backtrack. “I mean, really, Malfoy, don’t you think we’re getting a bit ahead of ourselves?” she asked nervously. Draco noticed she was still shivering quite intensely. He wanted nothing more but to hold her in his arms and warm her up, but he needed to know if she wanted that too. He decided to test the waters and call her by her first name as well. “I know it’s intimidating, Y/N,” Draco watched as Y/N’s face faltered upon her name reaching her ears. “But this is the best option we’ve got, and I truly believe we can do this. Have you seen a better seeker than me?” he asked in a joking tone, trying to cheer her up. This was successful; Y/N began to chuckle under her breath. “Oh, I think I have,” she said mischievously. Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” he prodded. “And who might that be?”

Y/N smirked. “I think you’ve heard of him. His name is Harry Potter,” she stated playfully. Draco narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to make himself appear intimidating. “You take that back, you git.” Y/N squealed and ran away from him just as he took a step towards her. “Make me!” she shouted. “You little…” Draco muttered under his breath before starting to run towards her. Y/N giggled and darted across the tent, diving behind a random Ravenclaw locker. But Draco was hot on her heels, and within seconds, he had cornered her.

“I’ve got you now, Y/L/N,” Draco declared in a sing-song voice. He lifted his arms to grab her, but then she yelled, “Nope!” as she snuck underneath Draco’s outstretched hands. The boy snickered and watched as she ran to the opposite side of the tent. “Come here, you little minx,” he called after her. Her sweet laughter filled his ears, and he felt his heart pound. She looked so beautiful with that smile on her face. Draco felt as if he was on the moon, knowing that he had put that smile on her face.

After a few minutes more of running around, Draco was able to trick her. Y/N was hiding in a corner, trying to locate her friend. He was right on the other side of the lockers, waiting for her to make a break. And when she did, he was ready. He pounced on her as she turned the corner in front of him. He took her into his arms and held her still. “Damnit!” she yelled. Draco laughed at her reaction and gripped her tighter, her back pressed to his chest. When he determined they had both caught their breaths, he gently loosened his grip and turned her around. When their eyes met, Draco said nothing. He only studied the girl in front of him. Her cheeks were rosy, but not from the cold. Although it was dark in the tent, her eyes seemed to sparkle. Even with her hair all messy and her skin bone dry from the wind, she had never looked more beautiful than she did right then.

“Are you warm now?” Draco asked softly. Y/N gave him a small smile. “Not quite,” she murmured. Draco breathed in deeply; his heart was pounding in his chest. It was now or never. “Could I hold you?” he whispered. Y/N simply nodded. Draco felt butterflies ambush his stomach, but with surprisingly steady hands, he drew her in close and put his arms around her lower back, pressing his chest against hers. She settled right in, put her head on his shoulder, and exhaled slowly. Her breath formed smoke in the air. Draco couldn’t believe he had her in his arms like this. Sure they had hugged before, but this was… different. It felt intimate. He could feel her heartbeat. He could smell her hair.

Draco savored that moment. He was fully present in it, and he felt safe in it. That was until she lifted her head and stared into his eyes. Her gaze flickered to his lips, and to Draco's surprise, she said, “Kiss me.” His heart skipped a beat. Without wasting another second, he took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. It felt as if fireworks were going off. Draco had yearned for this moment for so long, and it was finally happening. The girl he loved, the girl he adored, was kissing him.

Then out of nowhere, Draco pulled away, leaving Y/N confused. However, that confusion was soon replaced with joy when Draco spoke. “I love you, Y/N,” he said. “I love how you make every bad day that much brighter. I love how your pranks keep me on my toes. I love your laugh, your smile, your everything, and I… I can hardly bear it. You’re literally the biggest source of my happiness, and I am so lucky to have you in my life. And if we freeze to death out here,” Draco paused as Y/N chuckled lightly, “then at least I can die knowing I finally confessed my feelings for you."

Y/N shook her head in amazement. “Draco Malfoy, you are the most dramatic person I know. I love you too, you wanker," she said before kissing his cheek. "Now enough with the sappy shit, let’s get out of here,” she said calmly as she walked away, leaving Draco alone and, quite frankly, flabbergasted. Y/N seemed to sense this. She turned back to him. “Surely you didn’t think I wasn’t crushing on you, did you?” Draco opened his mouth but found he had nothing to say. “Merlin, Malfoy. Are you that thick? I’ve liked you since our first year!” she shouted. Draco gasped. “You’re lying,” he declared, not wanting to believe it. Y/N rolled her eyes and put a hand to her forehead. “We can discuss this later, come on, I’m getting sick of this place.”

Draco conceded and met her at the exit. They held onto each of their wands and were about to face the music until Draco had an idea. He grabbed Y/N’s hand and stopped her from stepping away. “What?” she asked, her face was scrunched up in confusion. “Let’s ride the same broom. That way, we’ll be heavier, and it’ll be harder for the wind to push us back. And that way, we won’t lose one another,” he said, excited that he had thought of that at the last minute. Y/N rolled her eyes and put her broom back where it had been propped up prior. “What? It’s a good idea!” Draco insisted. “It is, but I wish you would’ve thought of it earlier. Maybe then we could already be sitting by the fire munching on chocolate frogs. I only need one more to complete my collection, you know.”

Draco put an exaggerated frown on his face, earning himself a quick kiss from Y/N. “It’s a lovely idea. Let’s try it out,” she said as she caved. Draco smiled and hopped onto his broom, gesturing to Y/N to do the same. She threw her leg over the broomstick, slid her goggles on, and put her hands on Draco’s waist. “Hold me tighter. You won’t hurt me,” Draco instructed her. He felt her arms snake around his stomach and squeeze. And with that, Draco pressed forward and out into the storm.

When they left the confines of the quidditch tent, they were immediately met with the painfully cold wind. The storm had not ceased its intensity in the slightest. It was more or less a winter wonderland, a bright one at that. Even though she had goggles, Y/N still felt the need to shield her eyes by burying her face into Draco’s back, leaving the Slytherin boy to navigate all by himself. However, it seemed as though his hypothesis was correct. The combined weight of each of them allowed the pair to, miraculously, cut right through the storm. They were streaking through the white sky, weaving around the trees and soaring past the Owlery. Then Draco had an idea. He gripped his broom firmly and called out to Y/N, “Hold on!” With a deep breath, he leaned forward and spun them right into a barrel roll, eliciting a scream from Y/N. Draco laughed at her reaction while zooming over the Quad. Finally, though, he landed them in front of the doors to the entrance hall.

Once on the snowflake covered ground, they slid off the broom and ran up to the polished wooden doors. Draco tried the handle and found that it was locked. He angrily whipped out his wand and bellowed, “Alohomora!” The doors slowly creaked open, and Draco quickly ushered Y/N inside before following after her and slamming the door shut behind them. When the storm was blocked out, the lovers looked at one another and let out an enormous sigh of relief. Y/N slid her goggles off her face and dropped her bag onto the floor. Draco did the same, then propped his broom against the stone castle wall. He turned back to Y/N, and upon seeing the circles indented into her skin from her goggles, he began to giggle. “What’re you laughing at?” she asked. This only made Draco chuckle more, and without saying anything, he brought his hands to his eyes, mocking the rings on her face. Y/N sighed while Draco wheezed and held his stomach. “Really, Draco? You are an absolute child.” This caught Draco's attention.

“Hey! Says the one who started a game of tag while a blizzard was raging on outside and actively burying us in snow,” Draco retorted. Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, shove off, Malfoy. It was fun, am I not allowed to have fun?” Draco put his index finger and thumb to his chin, faking contemplation. “Stopp,” Y/N whined while stomping her foot, making Draco’s heart expand with fondness. He smiled and walked over to her, drawing her into his arms. “Come here, darling. I’m sorry for teasing you.” He went to put his head on her shoulder, but suddenly, Y/N wiggled out of his arms. He looked at her quizzically. “Darling?” she asked incredulously, her eyebrow cocked. Draco felt blush fill his cheeks. “Well, I just thought…”

“You thought what? That you could call me darling simply because we kissed?” Draco grimaced and averted his eyes. He felt like an absolute fool. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just assumed—”

Y/N interrupted Draco’s stammering, “At least ask me out first…”

Draco closed his eyes, feeling his initial panic dissipate. He thought he was in trouble, but it seems as though Y/N was only playing with him. He felt her begin to laugh in his arms. His eyes flickered open to see her smiling at him brightly. “Alright, then, would you—”

Draco was once again cut off, but this time it was by Adrian Pucey, a fellow Slytherin. He was a chaser on their quidditch team. “There you guys are! We thought you were lost in the storm. Where have you been?” he asked. A look of confusion overtook his face when he noticed the position they were in. “Why are you guys hugging?” Draco and Y/N’s faces burned, and they immediately let each other go.

“We were in the locker room. Took Draco’s broom out into the blizzard and luckily were able to get back. Has dinner been served yet?” Y/N asked, successfully dodging Adrian’s question. “Oh yeah, it’s meatloaf tonight. If you hurry, you can still get some,” Adrian informed them. “Great, thanks, mate,” Draco replied while giving him a wave. Adrian seemed to get the message and retreated back down the corridor from whence he came, leaving Y/N and Draco alone once again.

“As I was saying—”

“Meet me outside the common room at eight tomorrow night,” Y/N said while giving Draco a couple pats on his chest. “See you then?”

Draco looked at the girl in front of him, a bewildered expression on his face. He nodded rapidly. “Y-yeah, I’ll um see you then,” he replied. Y/N smirked and pressed a kiss to his cheek before sauntering down the hallway, leaving Draco shocked but also somewhat fuzzy inside. “Bloody hell." he brought his hand to the back of his neck. "That girl will be the death of me,” he murmured as he watched her walk away, knowing he was going to spend the remainder of his time before their date thinking only of her.

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dadsbongos · 3 years

Text

spiriting

Insert Coin - Chapter 2 / Series Masterlist

Waking up to the cursed sound of Monokuma’s voice, (Y/n) let her body remain in the warm confines of her duvet. Her eyes were heavy and burned whether she had them open or not. Turning, she let her back rest against the mattress, endless stare settled on the ceiling.

Every time she went to close her eyes, Byakuya’s bloody corpse was staring her in the face. His voice festered between her ears as it called her name. Quite possibly the last thing he’d said to anybody was him calling her name for help.

Stabbed over ten times between his abdomen and throat.

It must’ve been excruciating. To be working to bring everyone together only to be brutally murdered in your endeavors.

She can only hope death was quick to lay its merciful hands upon Byakuya’s soul.

And to be boiled alive, even.

A hand came up and over her heart, scrunching up the fabric of her sleepshirt, a new wave of misery banging at her brain as she thought of Teruteru. The Ultimate Cook. No, their Ultimate Chef. The least she could do was honor his wishes in her mind.

To be slathered in slimy batter and caked with breading was a mere inconvenience in comparison to being boiled - being cooked. The heat. The bubbling and popping of your skin as you quickly simmer.

It made her queasy just to think about.

All that pain, all that suffering - brought about by the hands of Nagito Komaeda. The sweet-faced, gentle-smiled boy of luck. The same boy she was planning on meeting in the dining hall.

Sighing through her nose, (Y/n) slowly rose from her bed before swinging her legs over the edge of her bed frame and pushing up to a complete stand. Her body felt like gelatin, mind in a foggy haze as she moved towards her closet, pulling off her makeshift pajamas and trading them in for cleaner versions of the clothes she already had on.

Exiting her cottage, (Y/n) was sure to lock her door before stowing the key away and heading towards the dining hall before anybody sent out a search party for her. The sand crunched under her shoes as she made her way to the dining hall, hopefully, the others had somehow forgotten about the entire night prior. If she could be the only one with the horrid memory of their friends’ deaths, she’d be happy.

Ultimate Peacekeeper and yet she couldn’t even keep two people alive.

Clenching her teeth, (Y/n) shook her head - if she thought like that then she’d be too busy throwing herself a pity party to focus on any of her peers. She reached out to open the dining hall door and stepped inside, and for a split second, her heart picked up at the thought of finding another body.

A corpse laid across the floor and Monokuma’s wretched voice bringing about another body discovery announcement.

Once again, she forcefully shook off her thoughts and pushed forward. Everyone was there. No, two people were missing.

Fuyuhiko, which was no surprise, seemed an avid supporter of being the “lone wolf” of their group. Nagito, on the other hand, was almost never by himself - despite his previous exclamations of being unworthy of a friend, he surely liked the company of the people on the island.

(Y/n) sidled herself up beside Hajime, giving the boy’s side profile a gentle, unnoticed smile - he looked exhausted, “How’re you feeling?”

“Hm,” Hajime flinched at the sudden noise, turning to lock eyes with the mediator, “I feel…” he looked down at his plate sadly, “fine.”

“Alright,” she pat his back, “if you need anything, I’m always available. It’s what I’m here for, Hajime.”

“Right,” the brunette nodded, he let his shoulders droop, defenses falling ever so slightly, “thanks, (Y/n).”

“Of course,” she nodded, looking around the dining hall once again and quirking a brow, “is it just me or… are there people missing?”

Before Hajime could answer her question, Monokuma appeared suddenly inside the cafeteria - frightening a few of the students. Hajime’s brows furrowed, “You can't just pop up out of nowhere like that!"

"Puhuhuhu, but I can!" what a high-pitched drawl, (Y/n) suddenly thought - she’d always been taught that villains have sickeningly deep voices and here Monokuma was, proving her entire life wrong, "I'm here to deliver the next motive!"

"A motive?" Hajime tilted his head in the midst of his confusion.

"It's not that I don't think you all love participating in my super fun killing game or anything..." Monokuma fidgeted, faking a new shy persona, "But, of course, I thought it would be even more fun to give you guys a motive!"

"Well, we've taken care of everything,” Kazuichi immediately rebuffed, “No one is going to kill anymore, no matter what your motive is!"

(Y/n) swung her head to look at the Ultimate Mechanic, “‘Taken care of’, what are you talking about?”

"Whatever you say!" the black-and-white bear waved off, clearly in disbelief of the boy’s words anyway, "If you're interested, there's an arcade machine in Jabberwock Park with a game on it that might have some cool info for you! And that’s as much as you’re getting from me, bye for now!"

"Ooh, fun!" Ibuki blurted out as Monokuma disappeared.

"Fun?” Hajime shook his head, irritation clear on his face, “No! Guys, we absolutely cannot play that game. This is Monokuma's attempt to trap us. Who knows? The game could be filled with lies to get us to kill each other!"

“Hajime’s right,” (Y/n) nodded, “If anyone plays that game, a murder is likely. I know it’ll be hard but we have to do our best to keep alive.”

Hajime could be a good leader. Strong, independent, commanding - a good man. He could be great. Then again, so was Byakuya.

Mahiru looked around and asked the question (Y/n) had before Monokuma arrived, "Wait, where's Nagito?"

Hiyoko giggled, covering her mouth with her hands as she did so, "He's probably too ashamed to show his ugly face around here.”

"No," (Y/n) interrupted, “I don’t think he’d be so self-conscious.”

"Don't worry about it,” Kazuichi waved off, locking his hands behind his head, “He isn't going to bother us anymore."

"What did you do?" (Y/n) pushed herself away from Hajime and toward the mechanic.

"Kazuichi, you probably shouldn't say stuff like that..." Nekomaru’s voice was strange - hasty, as if he was trying to hide something.

"Nekomaru, Kazuichi," (Y/n)’s brows furrowed as she looked between the boys, “Tell me, right now, what did you two do?”

"Well, we..." Kazuichi glanced at Nekomaru, "Took care of him this morning."

"You guys killed someone?" Mahiru exclaimed, face running pale.

"No! What the hell? Of course, not, we didn't do that!" Nekomaru shook his head as if he couldn’t fathom how his suspicious behavior could lead to that conclusion, "We found him on the way here and... tied him up. So he couldn't do anything drastic again! He's on the floor of the room we had the party in, he's- he'll be fine."

"So you guys - without telling anyone - kidnapped Nagito this morning and just left him tied up?" Hajime turned his head between the two, obviously done with the idiots, "Do you understand why that possibly wasn't the most fantastic idea?"

"What were we supposed to do, just let him run around acting like that?" Kazuichi asked, exasperated, "It's fine! He'll live, we just have to bring him food or something once in a while..."

"Now that we're in this mess, it will be difficult to pull us out," (Y/n) crossed her arms, thinking over the situation, “I’ll keep watch over him. I was going to do so anyway, but two people,” she glared directly at the boys of the hour, “decided to act without consulting the group,” as Mahiru prepared a plate, (Y/n) continued, “Just leave Nagito to me, I’ll be a babysitter for him - if anybody has an issue with him, please don’t act on your own until necessary. It could do more harm than good.”

Handing over the plate, Mahiru gave the peacekeeper a nervous smile, "Be careful, okay? Just run outta there if anything weird happens."

“Right,” (Y/n) nodded, taking the plate, “Kazuichi, Nekomaru,” the two hesitantly looked over to her - it felt horribly similar to facing a disappointed parent - she pursed her lips before giving a sympathetic grin, “I get where you two were coming from and I appreciate it, but don’t do something like this again. It’s dangerous.”

The two murmured out their agreements as (Y/n) left.

Crossing from the dining hall to the old building, (Y/n) flexed her fingers as she walked, gut knotting up inside her. Byakuya died there. Her friend, and to some extent, a role model. All because of the man she was going to be spending the rest of their stay at Jabberwock with. She had to. She needed to keep tabs over him if they wanted to avoid something like the party again.

Her hand stopped at the door handle, fingers resting against the cool metal.

She could just let him starve, it’s not like anybody would care. Nobody would check the old building anyway.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) pushed the door open - she’s supposed to be the Ultimate Peacekeeper and she was already dropping the ball with two deaths and a kidnapping. Letting Nagito starve was just a cruel and unusual punishment. An impulsive thought she'd never act on.

And so, putting one foot in front of the other, she continued down the hall Teruteru did. To find Nagito.

#insert coin #sdr2 x reader #sdr2 reader insert #nagito komeada x reader #nagito x reader #hajime hinata x reader

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lo-55 · 3 years

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Playing With Fire

While playing a perfectly innocent video game you get thrown into a dangerous world on the brink of incineration! At least you’re surrounded by a bunch of hot people. If nothing else you can shower them with copious, well earned affection.

You come awake with a start.

Everything is just a little off kilter. Like your eyes aren’t focused or you're wearing someone else's glasses. It takes you a few long minutes to realize that you’re staring down at a piece of paper.

It’s listed one through eight, with a check box next to each number.

At the top you see ‘Company Preference List’, and beneath that is your name scrawled in your own handwriting. But, when did you write it? And what was the list? You look up to find yourself in a library, surrounded by a bunch of other people all dressed in orange uniforms. You look down and find yourself in the same one. You recognize it as the Fire Force boiler suits.

You touch your cheek slowly. Then poke the corner of your eyes. You’re not wearing your VR visor. And you’re not holding handles either. Are you hallucinating? You were playing the game, in the middle of some side quest. Did the game reset? This looked like a scene from the start of the game. It followed the beginning of the series, but through the eyes of a random side character researching Haijima on their own. There was some kind of revenge plot and a lot of stuff about their big sister, but you hadn’t gotten to the full reveal of the tragic back story yet. They interacted with the main characters plenty, but mostly they spent their time in their own squad, the fourth.

You were halfway through the game, and now you were back at the start?

You look around for something to tell you what’s going on. You try to poke the menu button, but you’re not holding controllers. So all you really end up doing is poking the air between your hands with your thumbs. You’re starting to panic, when something shiny catches your attention.

When did you get that ring?

Plain silver on your forefinger. You poke it and gasp when the world shifts minutely.

A flicker of fire, a figure dark against the light. It warps in and out of your vision in a split second.

Right. Tragic back story.

The ring was from their (your?) older sister. Now disappeared a-la-infernal fire. You were like the reverse Shinra.

Wait.

Shinra.

Your head snapped around quickly from one person to the other. Most of them were boring background characters. No, no, no. Boring. Lame. Basically grey blobs.

Were you going crazy and you couldn’t even enjoy it?!

“Uh, hey? Are you okay?”

Your head snaps sideways to find bright red eyes peering at you in concern.

Red eyes. Black hair.

You stare hard at him until the corners of his mouth start to twitch and curl upwards.

“H-hey. Why are you staring at me?”

Abruptly you reach over and cup his cheeks. His face is hot beneath your hands. You can touch him. You can feel the heat of his skin. He’s blushing something fierce.

“You are… adorable,” you declare.

He turns bright red and squeaks at you until you finally let him go.

“What?!”

“Did I stutter?” you prop your chin in your hand and look him over. Yep. Definitely cute. You just wanna squeeze him. But, you should probably do other things first. Like figure out what exactly is going on.

Not that you can come outta the gate with ‘hey I was playing a video game and now I’m stuck in it, also I thought you weren’t real? What gives yo?’

Even you aren’t that impulsive.

Actually, in real live you’re not very impulsive at all. That was what made games so fun, especially open world ones where you could do basically whatever you wanted. IRL you were more withdrawn than anything, even when you wanted to be social.

Now… You could be whoever you wanted, right?

Did you even have to follow the plot? Could you put a preference for another company and go there? Or would you still end up in the forth? And what about your abilities? In the game you’d had a choice at the beginning between a second gen ability and two third gen powers. You’d ended up picking at random, since they all seemed cool and you hadn’t been very far into the anime yet at the time.

How would you even use those powers here, assuming that you could?

“Sorry, I was spacing out,” you finally said, “What were you saying?”

“Oh uh,” Shinra looked away, his grin still pulling at his face. “I was just asking if you were okay. You were looking at the form for so long, but whenever you talked about joining a company before you always said you would go to the fourth. Not that we talk a lot, so I wouldn’t know if you wanted to go to the fifth or the sixth or the seventh or-”

“Babe, you’re rambling,” you cut in, starting to smile yourself. Even though you’re beyond confused something about Shinra puts you at ease. Everything about him seems so… warm. And yeah, the smile could be off putting. If it wasn’t so damn adorable.

“O-oh!” aaaand he was blushing again.

You look down at the paper, your brows furrowing. What are you even supposed to say to this?

“I dunno,” you said at last, “I guess I was reconsidering. There’s a lot of companies, and a lot of options out there. I might end up going a totally different path if it’s not too late… What about you?”

“Me? Well I didn’t really have a particular preference, but I heard that they’re trying to send more people to the eighth this year. Since its such a new company, and so small.”

“Mmmm. That’s true. Maybe I’ll go there,” you muse. It would put you smack in the middle of all the action, and you could see the sweet Iris, and the too-hot-to-be-fair Maki. You could stay with adorable Shinra and the well meaning dumbass that was Arthur. Not to mention the two guys in charge. If you could get Obi to bench press you-

Nope! Bad! Focus on the task at hand. No thirsting over captains right now!

“I was thinking the same thing,” Shinra admitted, looking down at his own paper.

“Yeah? I guess such a small company would make it easy for you to stand out and come a hero, right?”

Shinra looked startled. You offered him a sweet smile and turned back to your paper and picked up your pen.

You marked your preferences.

Eighth, seventh, fourth, second, fifth, sixth, third, first.

“The eighth and the seventh?” Shinra asked, peaking over at your sheet.

You shot him a grin. “They both sound like fun to me. Hey, Shinra?”

“Yeah?”

Your grin grows wider. “Let’s both do our best, and save lots of people okay?”

Shinra’s smile is small, but true.

“Okay.”

You bump your fist to his to seal the deal.

It had taken you a couple of tries to find your dorm room.

Your body seemed like it knew what it was doing, even if your mind didn’t. You had to explain away your frazzled state to the woman in charge of your wing, a nun who’s name you couldn’t recall to save your life, as nerves. She had looked dubious, but hadn’t questioned you when she pointed you to your room.

Probably thinks I’m hung over, you thought as you stepped inside. If I didn’t know better I’d think I was drunk enough to hallucinate. But it’s all way too real. Just what happened? One second I was playing the game, and then my phone went off, and then it was all dark. After that I was in the library.

It was making your head hurt thinking about it.

You poked around the room. If you remembered right you’d had a roommate, but she’d already been assigned her company a week early. Her dad was some top brass in the military, so off to the second company she went,

You made sure the door was locked before you started riffling through your things.

Books, papers, clothes. Personal items.

You had a collection of antique keys for some reason, and a blanket shaped like a tortilla that was warmer than most space heaters. There was an old lighter with a hawk engraved on it in one drawer. When you touched it you got the sudden smell of pipe tobacco and a man laughing far in the back of your mind before it was gone. Just like when you touched the ring earlier.

Memories that weren’t yours. You had stepped into someone else's life.

When you looked in the mirror you found the face that your had designed for your character staring back at you. There was a thin ring of white in your eyes, cutting through their color and marking you as a pyrokinetic.

Shit. Each of those abilities had a different eye. Which one was the circle? There was a circle, a pointy cross, and teardrop because the designer was some edgelord. Which power does this mean I have? Wings? Magnet sand? Or the spear torch thingy?

You wished this could have been more like Fate/Grand Order. Then you would just have to keep track of your teams abilities, strengths, and weaknesses. Not your own.

Fuck.

You spend a long time in your room, packing up all of your belongings. None of them really belong to you. They belong to your character, and they’re only familiar in the sense that you’ve thrown them over your shoulder when you were looking for something specific before. Only now if you throw them they won’t puff back to where they were before eventually. You’ll actually have to put this stuff away.

Damn it, you’ve never liked packing.

Still, you carefully rolled your new found clothes into baggage burritos. They were pretty plain, all in all. Oh well. You could make adjustments later if you really wanted to. Was it a game mechanic you haven't unlocked? Full customization? You could pick gender and hair, and the eyes depended on your pyrokinesis. Maybe at some point you got to change clothes too.

You’d figure it out.

You hoped.

Your head was still reeling the with the idea of what was going on, but for now, with nothing else you really could do, you decided to go with it.

Once you had everything all packed up you left your room to do some exploring. You tried to keep track of where you were going in the big fire station/training academy, but before long you were hopelessly lost.

You stumbled upon a training room, where a familiar boy with a dorky pony tail was slashing a glowing blue sword through a training dummy. The poor dummy fell to the floor in pieces.

You watched him for a few minutes before he noticed you.

“Oh,” he said, “It’s you.”

Which was… pretty lame, if you’re being honest.

What, did you one pop his delusional bubble?

“Yep,” you popped your ‘p’, “It’s a-me.” Mario. “What did that guy ever do to you? Try to challenge the great Knight King Arthur on a troll bridge?” you meant it to be a joke, but Arthur actually lit up.

“Hardly! This was merely training. A Knight King must always be ready to defend his people!”

“Of course,” you nodded along, playing with him. “And soon you’ll be embarking on a great quest to your new company, right? Do you know which one?”

“I didn’t bother with those silly preference sheets. Let whichever company requires a knight most vie for my presence.”

You were honestly impressed Arthur even knew the word ‘vie’. Wasn’t he kind of a loon?

“Mhmm, mhmm, I see,” you nodded seriously. “Then in case, I might see you in my own company.”

You wanted to ask him to spar, if only to see Excalibur in action more, but you still weren’t sure what your power was or how to use it. So you ended up bowing out.

It took you another hour to find your way back to your room.

Whoops.

You don’t really sleep. You lay down and try to wake up, and hope that come morning you’ll be back in your living room with a vr stapped to your head and this whole thing will have been a (not so terrible) dream.

Keep Dreaming.

~ ~

#fire force x reader #shinra kusakabe #shinra kusakabe x reader #reader insert #isekai

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imaginethatneathuh · 3 years

Text

The Fool: Game Boy - American Gods

Game Boy x partner!reader, romantic

Game Boy plays a game with you.

Part of @dragon430’s Tarot Troop.

TW/CW: None that I can think of.

Word count: 2.0+ K

•

After a long day at work you were relieved to not have to do anything else today. As soon as you got home, you said to yourself, it’s nap time. Sadly, or maybe happily, things didn’t work out that way.

As you stepped into the small, shared flat, you sighed and rolled your neck. Wordlessly, you walked to the kitchen and got some water, tossing your keys on the counter.

You had been on your feet all day; the only thing on your mind was a shower and bed. As you drank, water falling from the corners of your mouth, you noticed there was silence about the house. There was never silence unless your long-term partner, Game Boy was gone. Setting your cup down, you walk around the counters and cabinets that split the living room and kitchen. You stopped at the edge and peered in, hands on hips. With a frown, you tilted your head before walking into the living room, still in your barista uniform.

“Game Boy?” You called in the empty flat. “You here?”

After a long string of silence, you moved closer to the sofa and placed your hands on top of it.

It wasn’t peculiar that Game was gone, just odd that he hadn’t said anything before. He had always told you beforehand so you wouldn’t worry. This time, you supposed, he’d failed to mention his absence. Still, a part of you thought he may be elsewhere in the flat.

As he didn’t answer you, you began to search for him. He wasn’t in the bathroom and you doubted he was in the communal laundry room. Despite knowing that he certainly wasn’t in your room, you still checked. Predictably, he wasn’t there, but you did decide to change into something more comfortable.

With nowhere else to look, you knocked on his room’s door and opened it. It was empty. Gaming equipment, actual games, a computer, a telly, and other stuff like that covered the room, but there was no Game Boy. Your partner Game Boy, not the Nintendo handheld game console. He did, in fact, have one of them on a shelf.

There was a note taped to his computer which is odd because Game Boy rarely ever wrote anything with a pen or pencil. He also never let anything so “dated” as a pen and paper note on his precious computer. Not if he was in his right mind anyway.

You got closer, out of curiosity of what was so important that Game decided to write it out. The handwriting was very sloppy, you noticed.

Do you remember where we met? The note asked. I do. I thought you looked amazing. That’s why I couldn’t talk to you. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t say anything. I was so tongue-tied, it was rather embarrassing.

You smiled, remembering how flushed Game had been. He couldn’t even look at you. It was adorable.

Find where we met. Follow the trail and we’ll see each other soon enough. Let me take you on an adventure. You won’t regret it. I promise. I love you - G

Your heart swelled in your chest.

‘A game from Game Boy,’ you thought. ‘How cute.’

You left the flat, wanting to see just what game Game was playing.

•

Standing near a park bench, you looked around.

You had been around here, on a walk, when you’d bumped into Game. Stupidly, you hadn’t been watching where you were going and ran into him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I am so sorry,” you said. “I didn’t see you.”

You looked into his beautiful blue eyes and your heart skipped a beat.

The young man you’d run into turnt away, blushing and pulled his black trench coat tighter. He nodded, still looking at the ground.

“Again, really sorry.” You walked past him but stopped next to a park bench. After a few seconds, you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at him.

The blue-eyed boy stood there, looking at you, his hands in his pockets and scarf wiping back from the wind. He was considerably round and he had some acne, but it didn’t bother you. His eyes told you everything. There was more going on behind them than most would assume. More what, you didn’t know. But he seemed to know so much. One look into them and it was like you had had a glance into endless something, but you weren’t sure what. It was within your grasp and, yet, an ocean away.

Your eyes met again and warmth filled your chest. You smiled and waved at him.

His already deep blush deepened.

You walked down the path. A note, taped to a bench, caught your attention. You picked it up and opened it.

This is where you stopped when we first met. The moment you looked back at me and our eyes met, I could feel myself falling for you. I don’t get that feeling anymore. It’s more of knowing I love you and you love me kinda feeling, but I digress.

You smiled. His words rang true for you, too. There were no longer butterflies and lightning. But there was a feeling of belonging with him that you could feel in your heart.

Sometimes, I wonder why you weren’t repulsed by my acne and fat. I still have no idea why you’d go out with me. But, I’m glad you did ask me out. Being with you has been something else. A fantastic something else.

After the first time walking through the park, you started going there more often. At one point, it was every single day. All you wanted was to see him again. But, it took months before you did.

And when you did, as cliche as it sounds, it was like the whole world stopped around you. Without even thinking about it, you walked over and asked him out.

You got a stuttered yes, but it was still a yes.

Go to where we had our first date and you’ll find a friend and a note waiting. - G

•

After getting out of the car, you made your way to the arcade you and Game Boy had spent your first date. It had been easier to get him to talk about video games than it was himself. Still, the way he had talked about his favourite, and his most hated, games made you fall deeper in love.

The two of you played a ton of games, usually for two players. He’d even called you his player two, as a joke.

“Hey, Y/N,” the attendant, Steve, said. “G stopped by earlier. Told me to give you this.” He handed you a note.

I know I didn’t really let you talk much when we were here, but when you asked about my favourites to play, I just started rambling. It did make it easier to talk to you, though.

Speaking of rambling, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was a bit nonsensical, wasn’t it? I don’t know why you love that movie (or the book) but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t happy to wear the VHS tape out with you. Seeing you happy was the best part of that. Now, Alice, my dear, go back home and go down the rabbit hole once again. - G

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was indeed nonsensical which was the best part about it. There was no real story. It was nonsense, the best kinda sense there is.

“Thanks, Steve. See ya later,” you said as you left.

•

Back home, you went to the telly and pulled out the VHS tapes. On AAiW’s case was a note from Game.

We’re pretty close to the end now. But, just to say it before I say it, I love you. As much as I found this movie weird, nonsensical, and rather insane, I found it worth every second spent watching because I got to spend time with you. Y/N, you mean everything to me. I love you. The reason I say this now is because I’m not the best at saying things without coming off like a prick. It’s easier to write them.

You can find me at the address below. And, as the rabbit always says, “I’m late.” So get here before I have to chop off your head for tardiness (or should I say tartiness?). - G

You chuckled softly at the pun and ran a finger down the page.

The address below wasn’t familiar to you so you pulled out a map.

•

The warehouse looked disgusting on the outside. Broken windows and grime-covered walls were not the most romantic thing, but still, if Game Boy was here, it’d be worth it.

You walked in, expecting to walk across broken glass or something, but there was no crunch beneath you. A path looked like it had been swept clean for you. It trailed to the back of the warehouse, small origami roses laying on it.

You followed them and picked them up one by one. The first few were plain white with green-painted stems. But, slowly, red started to bleed onto them. The ones farthest away were fully red, just like the Queen wanted.

The last rose sat on a door handle, the kind typically found in warehouses that jut out to the side. You picked it up, twirling the faux stem in your fingers. The rest of the bouquet sat in your arm. You could smell the paint coming off them.

The door creaked open and a shy figure peeked out.

“G?” You asked.

“Close your eyes,” he said. “Please?”

You did as he asked, heart pumping. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

As much as you wanted to know, you knew Game Boy had a hard time figuring out what was okay and what wasn’t when it came to real-life people.

“You’ll see,” he said.

The door creaked open more and he shuffled out. He picked the bouquet out of your arms as well as the last flower before disappearing for a moment. The warmth of his hands transferred to yours as he led you into the office. You could hear the door close again. Game Boy positioned you right in front of something, guiding you by your upper arms. His warmth left you before he spoke.

“You can open them now,” he said.

He stood in front of a table, a vase of the origami flowers he had made in his hands. Candles hung down from the ceiling in a heart formation, each holder connected by wire.

You silently stared at the sight.

Game Boy breathed heavily, his coat thrown off to the side. Still, his turtleneck was a little hot right now. He couldn’t tell if it was because he was nervous or overheated. Probably both.

You stepped forward and took the vase from him and set it down on a table.

“You did all this?” You asked.

He nodded, wiping his hands on his khakis. “I wanted it to be special.”

“Wanted what?”

He ran a hand through his blonde hair. “I’m not the best at this,” he mumbled under his breath. He straightened and looked you in the eye, despite that being rather uncomfortable for him. “Y/N, we’ve been dating for a while. Not a super long one, but it’s been a while. And I know you said you wanted to wait before calling us partners, but I can’t wait any longer. I love you so much. I want- I want you to be my player two. Permanently. Not just for a game or two.”

He seemed to have practised saying the speech over and over again.

You walked forward and pulled him into a kiss by the fabric of his turtleneck. Game Boy cupped your cheek and kissed back gently.

You pulled away, smiling. “I’ll gladly be your player two for as long as we both play the game fair.”

Game Boy sighed in relief, a giant grin spreading across his face. He leant in and kissed you again.

#american gods #american gods fanfiction #technical boy #tarot troop #game boy #technical x reader

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pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 3 years

Text

All The Clouds Ch. 2 | Niall Horan x Reader

Warnings: mild swearing

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: BLACK AND WHITE

“There’ll never be another,”

As soon as you met Niall, you knew you wanted to be a part of his life.

Of course, he had no idea who you were. You were a budding sound engineer hired onto a gigantic tour production and he was… well, he was a rockstar.

All of the boys were charismatic and extremely talented, so it was no surprise that they had risen to fame so quickly. The tour manager, Tom, had pointed them out to you when he was giving you a tour of the production before your first sound check, but you never crossed paths until much later.

“You’ll be working with Annika Wilson and bunking with her as well. She’ll show you exactly what your responsibilities are. If you have any problems, report back to me. Any questions?” Tom asked as he led you to the side of the stage you’d be working from.

“Um, no,” you shrugged, feeling slightly overwhelmed. You weren’t exactly sure how you landed this job, but you also weren’t going to question it.

“Great,” he led you over to a sound station where a blonde woman was organizing cords and microphones, “Annika, this is the newbie I told you about.”

Annika was in her late twenties, tall, and intimidatingly cool. She looked up at you from what she was working on, dropping the cords and tightening her ponytail before reaching out to shake your hand, “welcome to the shit-show.”

You returned her handshake, immediately liking her. Tom shot her a glare but didn’t say anything before walking away. Annika must have had some seriously good job security to be making quips like that in front of the tour manager, you reasoned.

“He didn’t make this show seem like sunshine and rainbows did he?” Annika asked once he was gone, turning back to what she was working on.

“Kinda,” you rocked back awkwardly on your heels, unsure of what you could do.

“It’s not. This whole show is such a mess I’m surprised we manage to hold it together every time we run it. My job is to manage all of the microphones, for the boys and their band. Tom said you have experience sound mixing?”

“Yeah,” you stepped up to the sound board she was standing next to, “I was stage crew at the local concert venue in my hometown.”

“Perfect. We can tag team mixing until you get the hang of it for the show, then we’ll split it up. These,” she pointed to a box on her left, “are the boys microphones. Louis is blue, Harry is green, Liam is red, Zayn is yellow, and Niall is Ireland. Niall also has a headset mic, for when he’s playing the guitar. Since you’re just getting started, you’ll just be responsible for Niall. I can keep tabs on the other boys until you have your feet under you. Sound good?”

It took you a minute to realize she was serious. It was your first day, and she had already assigned you to the most technically complicated band member.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t trust myself not to mess something up and I don’t want to get fired on my first day.”

Annika laughed brightly, shaking her head, “the best way to learn this stuff is to just do it, two feet first into the deep end. Don’t let the boys scare you. Working with them is the easiest part of the job, they’re really sweet underneath all of the chaos,” she smirked. You weren’t sure how much you believed her, the quick glimpse of them you had seen earlier involved a Segway and being chased by their security guard, Paul. You didn’t get to ask her any further questions before she started introducing you to the rest of the equipment.

The sound board you’d be working with was much like the one you were used to using at your job back home. The difference would be setting it up correctly and breaking it down quickly between shows. Annika kept reassuring you that it would seem less overwhelming the more times you did it, and with the list of upcoming tour dates you’d get lots of practice.

“Here comes trouble,” Annika mumbled to you shortly after sound check officially started. You looked up to the stage and saw all five boys heading your direction. “Boys,” she greeted them when they made it to the sound station, “this is (y/n). Be nice.”

“We’re always nice,” Liam smirked, though the way he winked at you said otherwise.

“Always,” Harry emphasized, taking his microphone from Annika. She rolled her eyes, handing Liam, Louis, and Zayn their mics as well. Instead of giving Niall his microphone, she gave it to you instead, nodding in his direction before going back to chatting with the other boys.

You walked up to him hesitantly, “um, Annika put me in charge of your mics.”

“Did she?” Niall glanced over at your coworker quickly with a lopsided smile.

“Mhmm,” you hummed.

“Well ya know what that means, don’t ya?”

“I don’t think I do.”

“Means we’re friends now.”

“Does it?”

“Absolutely. And you have to promise we’ll stay friends forever.”

“Why would I do that?” you couldn’t be too careful, you had to ask before you accidentally sold your soul. Niall looked a little taken aback by your question, eyes narrowing as he thought out an answer. Finally, he held out his free hand towards you. You cocked your head, but reached out and let him pull you onto the stage.

Normally standing in the middle of a stage made you feel small and insecure. You much rather preferred to be behind the sound booth, away from prying eyes and left to your own devices. Standing there with Niall though, you didn’t feel as small. There were rows upon rows of empty seats, and it was easy to imagine thousands of screaming fans filling the arena. It felt like a rush of electricity running through your veins. Standing up here, you felt like you could do anything.

“This is why,” he said smugly when you finally looked over at him, “this changes your life.”

“I still don’t see why that means I have to promise to stay friends with you though. I’ve know you for all of two minutes.”

“So what?”

“So I’m not promising anything until I know you better.”

Niall considered your offer slowly, dropping your hand to cross his arms, “fine. I’ll convince you, you’ll get it eventually.”

“Good luck with that,” as soon as there was space between you, the stage fright started to catch up to you, “I, um, I should get back to Annika.”

You turned on your heel and practically ran back to the sound board where Annika was waiting.

“He’s great, right?” she asked smugly.

“He’s alright,” you shrugged.

“Wait until you hear him sing,” she moved a slider on the sound board, then gave the boys a thumbs up.

You had to admit, she was right. The boys were amazing. Of course, you had heard some of their music before joining the tour, practically the whole world had at that point, but their live performances were something else. Each one had their own style and sound that melded together in a stylistic way. Their personalities shined through their music and their antics. It was impossible to watch them without a smile on your face.

It would be generous to say you fumbled through your first soundcheck and show, but Annika knew what she was talking about when she said you had to jump feet first into the deep end. Niall was more than forgiving when you dropped his mic while handing it to him during your first show, and completely forgot to bring his handheld when he switched back later that night. With every mishap, he laughed it off and told you that you’d get it next time.

Like Annika, he was also right, and by your third show you had it all figured out. Once you were more confident in your abilities as an employee, you started to enjoy the show as a whole and could spend more time appreciating the work that the boys were doing. Though at first it seemed larger than life, as the tour picked up speed you started noticing things that outsiders wouldn’t have even blinked over.

You finally asked Annika about it when you were leaving your hotel room in a new city to walk to the venue for sound check, “does the band ever get to go out when we go places like this?” It was a beautiful, sunny day and Annika had suggested going out to experience the night life after the show.

She shook her head, “they can’t. They’d be mobbed, fans and paps everywhere. Nobody knows who we are so we can get away with it, but the boys are stuck inside most places. Management doesn’t want them out causing trouble anyways.”

“Why would management care? Plenty of celebrities go out, and if they do get into trouble, isn’t it their management’s job to fix it? Why have management at all otherwise?”

“Not all celebrities are young attractive men that the whole world is obsessed with. You’re right, management is supposed to protect the talent, but here they’re just controlling.The boys are basically prisoners to their management. They can’t leave the hotel, they can’t say or do anything that could be considered scandalous, and they’re extremely overworked. Management has even asked me to turn down Niall’s mic during a show before. Honestly, the boys are great to work with, but the rest of this place is toxic.”

“You didn’t…” you felt a twinge of responsibility for the Irishman who had quickly become your favorite member of One Direction (though you’d never admit that to anyone).

“Of course not, I’d never betray the boys like that. My reputation with them is more important than my reputation with management, and I don’t hide the fact that I like them better than I like their management. That’s how it’s always been and how it always will be. If management decides they have a problem with it, they can fire me,” she shrugged.

Her words stayed with you all through soundcheck, but once the show started you pushed them as far back into your mind as possible. You had to focus on the task at hand.

You were more comfortable around Niall than you had been three weeks ago when you first started. There was an intimacy that you got to have with him every night while passing off microphones and guitars between you that easily fueled a good working relationship. At first it was mostly small talk, a comment here and there about the energy in the room or the water fight Louis and Liam had onstage. Small talk turned into tiny dance parties or riddles, but you didn’t think your relationship was any more complex than that until Niall posed you a question as you traded microphones.

“What’s been goin’ on in your head all night?”

“Just show things,” you brushed him off, not really wanting to talk about it in that moment.

“I can hear the whirring of your gears turning from the other side of the stage, and that’s with my in-ears. Harry’s got the crowd captivated for a minute, what’s wrong?”

“Have you always wanted to be a singer?”

Niall smiled softly, “I wanted t’ be a footballer for a little bit, but yeah, this has always been my dream.”

“What happens when you’re old, then?”

Niall laughed loudly, “old? I’ll still be able to sing when I’m old.”

“Right, but when you’re done touring and performing for millions of people around the world.”

“Well, I’ll just be able to enjoy my life at that point I guess. Maybe I’ll play golf more, have some consistency. I haven’t thought much about it but I’ll get back to you,” he flashed you a bright smile before bouncing back on stage to rejoin the band, leaving you holding his microphone.

Niall didn’t know the weight of your words because of how you phrased your question, but his answer told you everything you needed to know. He wanted consistency, because his life currently didn’t have much of it. He wanted control, and to ‘enjoy his life’. Those were his words. “I’ll just be able to enjoy my life at that point”. You went back to the sound station where Annika was perched on a stool watching the boys, oblivious to the conversation you had just had. You sat next to her, eyes landing on one blonde Irishman who was bouncing all over the stage. His smile said it all, he was living his dream. He was living his dream and having fun while doing it, but at what cost to him and his sanity?

You thought back to a few weeks ago, when you stood in the middle of the stage with him and he asked you to promise you’d stay friends. It meant something to him, and you chose not to do it. Knowing what you knew now, though, it made sense. Management controlled his every move. He was living his dream under somebody else’s thumb, and to fight it he was picking up friends at every turn.

It was the most Niall Horan thing you had ever heard.

If he was going to spend the rest of his career like this, though you really hoped he didn’t, you knew you had to be there to support him through it all. Nobody should have to go through what he was dealing with, and if he was asking for friendship you were going to be the best friend he had ever had.

You waited until the show was over to say anything else to him. As soon as he was in front of you handing you his mic, you plucked up the courage.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, do you have a minute?” he was still buzzing from the show, skin gleaming in sweat.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t,” you stuck your tongue out at him, earning a laugh. You walked to the wings of the stage, peeking out from behind a wall to see if there were still fans in the audience. You waited until you were sure the coast was clear, then you waved for him to follow.

The stage crew was already breaking down the set, but you were still able to lead Niall to the center of the stage. You stood looking out at the now empty seats, not making eye contact before you spoke.

“You asked me to promise to be your friend.”

“I did.”

“You said I’d get it eventually. It took me a while to figure it out, but you were right, this changes your life. I get it now,” you finally turned to look at him and you were met with a cheeky grin.

“Is this going where I think it’s going?”

You rolled your eyes, “I promise we’ll stay friends.”

Niall whooped loudly, lifting you off your feet in a hug and spinning you around.

“Ew, you’re all sweaty,” you squirmed out of his grasp. He only grinned harder.

“It doesn’t matter. You still have t’ like me, we’re friends for life now.”

“If we’re going to be friends you have to put in effort too, you know. This isn’t a one way street.”

“I know.”

You thought it would be simple, being friends with Niall Horan. You were wrong.

“I promise that I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

Chapter 3: DEAR PATIENCE Coming April 20th, 2021

#niall horan #niall x reader #niall horan x reader #niall horan imagine #niall imagine #nonplatonic #one direction #all the clouds

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ikemenfics · 3 years

Text

The Kiss That Begins with C

Word Count: 1983

Happy valentine’s: The finale of our crazy crack comes to an end!

“They went aft th' Uesugi Takeda alliance, too?” The white haired man leaned back, looking all but flabbergasted hearing the recent events regarding the Oda and Takeda incidents. “They mad? That’s madness.”

The messenger nodded, agreeing with the pirate warlord, “There were no casualties though. That’s the strangest part…” They sat, contemplating their sake as they spoke.

“So ye're tellin' me that a lone figure broke into th' Oda 'n Uesugi castles. Nah only that, they went aft th' warrior monk, too. Hmm..." an idea spawned into Motonari’s head. If he could get ahold of the geniuses that broke into the castles AND got to the warrior monk, that could spell complete chaos on all sides. Motonari’s face broke into a grin at the thought, dismissing his subordinate.

"Now all that's needed be gettin' th' apparent trespassers t' come t' me."

Elsewhere, around a table sat figures playing cards. One perked his head up, gave a nod, then excused himself from the game. Another figure reached to peek at his cards but found his hand smacked away before he could eye the hand.

Motonari had wandered into the woods. His intention was to question Kennyo himself, as an “ally”, about the recent drama. After all, Kennyo had also failed to take the town he had planned to raid. There was definitely suspicious intelligence at work and if it was against Oda, Takeda/Uesugi, and Kennyo...they were people he definitely wanted to see.

His vision warped and he nearly fell over as his mind tried to reorient itself. A point pierced reality, slicing cleanly downward. A figure in white stepped from the tear in the world, giving a bow of flourish.

“Pardon me,” the man said, raising from his bow, “My name is Edgar and I have been commanded to bring you this.” A small bag appeared in the man’s hand and was tossed towards the pirate warlord. “You are to use this to bring joy-”

[Now’s me chance] Motonari didn’t let Edgar finish. He charged towards the man, hitting him near his midsection, knocking him off balance. The two tumbled into the tear in reality, Motonari already standing to dash away into the realm behind the tear. Edgar stood and considered giving chase. “It seems, I must notify the king of my failure.”

Figures at the table started placing their cards down. “Straight.”

“Gay!”

“I got nothing.”

“Pair...10’s.” “Two pair, queens and aces.” “Go fish.” “Wrong game, but good try.” “What did Edgar have, though…” another hand reached for his cards. “Royal Flush..ace high. How?!” Before the conversation around the table could continue, a figure burst into the room, rushing past the players without a word. Several pairs of confused eyes followed him as he left, Edgar close behind. “My king…” Edgar panted, “we have a breach.”

Chaos erupted as everyone stood, dawning back their full uniforms, preparing to apprehend the man. “Wait.” The red king glanced in the direction Motonari had gone, “Reinforcements might be needed. We can’t risk the citizens.” “Agreed,” the black king nodded.

Orders were given and soon the members all split in two directions, some towards the border of reality, others into Cradle.

You were walking through the halls, delivering various repaired garments to their respective owners when the world warped. “AGAIN?!” Was all you could cry before familiar aqua hair appeared. “Yoohoo~!” Seth stepped into reality, followed by a figure you’d never seen before. His companion was tall...very tall. You craned your neck to get a good look at him. He stared down at you and you were sure he started hunching so you wouldn’t have to look up so far. “We need your help,” the man said, “Where is your king?”

You and your new guests arrived at the war room to alert Nobunaga and co. There wasn’t a meeting and messengers had to be sent, leaving time for introductions between you, Sirius, and Seth Hyde. “A queen? But you’re a...?” You trailed off, letting the question hang lest you accidentally offended someone. “Not that kind of queen, little lady.” “More like a queen in a deck of cards, second to the king, as it were.”

The war room doors slid open with a loud thwack as men charged into the room. “Motonari has done what?!” Hideyoshi’s cry preceded him as men filed into the room.

You explained, “They said that Motonari walked through the tear that the strange man with the chocolate had made. They are asking for help in tracking him..” “I can track him easily.” Mitsuhide turned to Nobunaga, awaiting his orders.

“You can’t track him in another land, Mitsuhide,” came Hideyoshi’s response, “Even you aren’t that talented. Damn that thrice cursed cur for causing all this trouble! Nobunaga-sama, let me lead men into the realm and we will bring him back for your justice.” “Hey, now,” Sirius interrupted, “Calm down. We have armies, we need someone who knows the pirate to help us track him. We don’t need more war on our hands.”

“I will *not* calm down. Not while that lunatic pirate heathen is out there causing trouble.” “So you’re just going to make more trouble for everyone trying to stop his? Great plan,” Ieyasu crossed his arms, watching Hideyoshi fume.

“If we’re sending people out to track, I can help,” Masamune said, “I got speed to go with Mitsuhide’s intelligence. We’ll bring him back in no time.” “And probably with half your parts missing, too,” Ieyasu muttered to no one in particular. “I haven’t lost any yet!” “Care to adjust that eyepatch? I think it’s blinding your good eye.” Nobunaga raised a hand, all bickering coming to a halt. “I will send Mitsuhide and Masamune.” He stood, intending on leaving the war council when a thought struck him, “You’ll take my lucky charm with you. I can’t risk losing two of my best to this task.”

Meanwhile, in a tower, two men sat and discussed a possible alliance. “YOu are telling me you can rid me of both armies and all I have to do is give you lodgings? You can’t be serious.” “I be perfectly serious. I needs them in chaos as much as ye do.”

Amon sighed, moving a bishop across the board, “Then it seems I have little choice as you already ransacked much of our stash. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“A scallywag has t' throw away all th' rules o' fightin' if he hopes t' survive th' sea. Thar be no honor outside o' yer crew among pirates. Even then…”

And so it was that you, Masamune Date, and Mitsuhide Akechi found yourselves in Cradle. It was a wonder to your eyes. You’d read about the elaborate rose gardens of Europe, but nothing quite correctly encompassed what assaulted your senses. The roses were perfectly red and bushes all but made a wall around you. There was a large table, a red and black table cloth covering the wood. You found other figures and a shocking sight. “Shingen-sama?! Yukimura-kun? And Sasuke-san?!” Yuki blanched but Shingen was quicker, “Ah, so they have acquired the aid of a goddess. I do not have to worry so much about being out of my element, for surely we now have luck on our side.”

“Masamune,” a man whom Sirius had been speaking with while you gawked approached, “You will work with Luka and Fenrir, my jack and ace. I’m told you make a rather formidable ace yourself.” Masa nodded his agreement to the team, moving to join them. “Luka, first we need to prepare rations for the search parties. Fenrir, get the gear ready for them. Masa can help with either.” “I’ll cook,” the one eyed dragon stated. “Roger that,” came Luka’s response. “On it,” Fenrir’s.

“Oh...I was told to give you this..” Ray lifted your hand, placing a small kiss in it. This kiss was different than previous kisses, for this one’s wrapping was brown with lighter tan stripes. A caramel Hershey’s kiss. You glanced up confused and all Ray said was, “I don’t know. I was just told to give it to you. I’m sure you’ll find out why later.”

Parties split, each moving to their respective headquarters, leaving you to follow the black army somewhat helplessly. You moved from the garden to a place called Central Quarter and from there to the Black Army Bridge.

You, however, didn't get to cross it. An arm shot out, your mouth covered as you were dragged away. In an alley, figures in white examined you. They seemed to be confirming something before a flash of light found you in a new place.

“I did warn ya nah t' let me catch ye, once, seamstress.” Your eyes widened as you met Motonari’s.

“How did you even get here?” You had a million questions but you had to keep calm, buy time, the others would find you, right? In that time, you needed to get Motonari to spill all you could get from him. “Doors don't jus' open one sided, seamstress,” Motonari said, “When th' scallywag wit' th' thin cutlass sliced th' world, I jus' stepped into his side o' it.”

You pressed more, trying to ask where you were, who the people in robes were, but Motonari was done with talking. He held up a bag that you recognized.

“Wha' th' heck are these? th' metal be lame 'n doesn't make decent bullets, but th' brown stuff underneath be too soft fer anythin'.”

“They’re...kisses…” you said, weakly, realizing what your task was going to wind up being.

He eyed the bag, questioning your sanity or education regarding displays of affection. It was a familiar conversation.

“Strange thin' t' call these. But I didn' make 'em so I don't much care. Take 'em.”

You shook your head, realizing what you had to do. “You can’t just thrust them at someone. There’s an order to things.” You removed the caramel kiss from your kimono, holding it out to him. “It’s diff’rent.” He took the sweet and you leaned, kissing his jaw. Motonari’s entire body went stiff at the touch, the man turning into an almost human statue. Moving back you held out your hand. “Now you can give me one kiss. That’s it.”

Motonari eyed you in shock. He silently took a kiss from the bag, flicking it at you. You caught it, almost fumbling trying to hold onto it. You closed your eyes, waiting for the kiss but none came.

Opening your eyes, you found him smirking at you. “Didn' realize ye were that way fer me..” He took the bag, placing the whole thing in your hands. Your hands holding the bag, he took the opportunity to seize your face in his own. “Now, where's me kisses?” His mouth pressed against yours, his tongue already invading. It was passionate, him breaking on occasion to nip and lick, before pressing his lips to yours again. You moaned at the attention before he finally parted.

“Was that a bag's worth o' kisses?” You stared at Motonari, nodding in response.

The tower rumbled, panicked voiced filling the areas around you. Motonari took your hand, both of you leaving as the world seemed to stretch and strain against some chaotic movement. You traveled to the garden, through the tear and back into the woods that Motonari had once occupied. You panted, catching your breath, and glanced back to the pirate, only for him to cover your eyes.

“Don't stare at me anymore wit' those eyes. They look too deep. I don't like that. Go galleon. Ye're nah far from th' Oda.” You stumbled home, finding everyone had made it safe. The rips in the world had been repaired, everyone back where they belonged. You, though, found yourself staring again at the forest where a pirate seemed a little honest to you.

“Huh...bag’s worth, indeed, Motonari.”

What happened to the tower? Dunno You wrote it? Look, shoehorning...shoehorning They ok? Probably Didn’t you promise us Jonah About that... You’re not giving us much. Look here- -flings Edgar at you and flees- At least this is the last time...

#Ikemen Sengoku #Ikesen #crack #Ikemenfics #Motonari Mori #Crossover

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

Finding Us Chapter 21

Alright! Here I am at last with another Tim chapter! I hope you guys enjoy it.

AO3 Link

Tim couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up in his chest at the idea of progress in the stalker case. It fueled his desire to keep moving in other directions, while he waited on Damian to finish his sketch he dove back into work on the Alkali case.

Currently, he was trying once again not to backseat hack as Barbara was finally digging through the Alkali’s files. After their trip to the physical location, Babs had used the access gained through Stephanie to create her own back door and they’d sat on that for a little while to make sure no one found it.

It was early the morning after Damian’s encounter with the creepy man and Tim was in the belfry standing over Barbara’s shoulder because there was nothing to currently do on the stalker case. Tim hadn’t recognized Damian’s sketch of the guy he’d seen, and so they were waiting on facial recognition to grab his identity. The kid’s sketch was definitely good enough for the system to pick something up, they just had to wait.

“Have you found anything interesting yet?” he asked, trying not to bounce on his toes.

“Lots. Nothing we’re looking for. Though, there is a guy here who’s last name is Bandersnatch, which is pretty cool.”

She was teasing, but Tim could also hear the note of warning in her voice. When she found what they were looking for she’d tell him, and he shouldn’t keep pushing. He sighed, and turned to step across the room, over to a mini fridge installed for snacks.

“Want a soda?” he called.

She shook her head, “It’s too early for that, toss me a tea.” she answered.

He grabbed a bottle of tea out for Babs and a can of orange soda for himself and moved back over to the computer.

“Thanks for helping on this.” he said, handing her the tea, then cracking open his soda.

“Of course, the sooner we get these guys the better.”

Tim agreed, and sipped at his soda while he played a matching game on his phone in an attempt to both distract and stop himself from tossing advice Barbara’s way. He got stuck on a particularly difficult level and found himself totally lost in it for a while, trying again and again to win. It made the waiting a lot easier, even if he also kind of wanted to toss his phone out the window and watch it crash at the bottom of the building.

“Got something.” Babs said at last.

Tim looked up bleary eyed, blinking away red diamonds and orange squares. It took his brain a moment to register what she’d said before he stood up, the chair shaking.

“Great!” he hurried over to look at the screen again, “What’d you find?”

“Well, under the private files I found some that were locked with a password, after cracking that I found these.”

The file she’d opened was filled with unreadable text.

“It’s encrypted?” Tim asked.

“I think it’s some kind of cypher. See it follows a sort of pattern. Nothing too overt or easy like a caesar cipher. It’s got to have a key.”

Tim hummed, she was right, the text was filled with letters and numbers and broken up in a way that looked like lines of real text, if they’d been in any kind of legible order.

“Well then we’d better get to cracking it.”

They worked for a couple hours trying to figure out what cypher had been used, and testing various codes to no avail. Eventually they decided to give it some time to breathe, and their brains time to think of new ideas. Babs forwarded him the files so he could keep looking over them later and Tim left her to work on other projects.

As he was leaving, he found Cassandra waiting for him down at the base of the Belfry. She was eating a cinnamon roll like it was a doughnut.

“Hey.” she said, handing him a cup of coffee, and shaking her wrist and the plastic bag hanging off it.

Tim took the offered cup, then tugged the bag off her free hand checking inside. A second cinnamon roll sat tucked into a nest of napkins. He fished it out, careful not to spill his drink then copied Cass, taking a huge bite out of the side.

It was still warm, and the taste of cinnamon and sugar danced across his tongue in a way that made him think of home. Of early Saturday mornings with Alfred, stirring together a bowl of butter, sugar, and cinnamon so the man could carefully spread it across dough. Or of Bruce dropping off a few in his room, ruffling his hair, and telling him he should probably finish his homework before working on another case.

“Ready to head back?” she asked.

He washed down the bite of bread with some coffee and nodded, “Yeah, I think Babs and I have done all we can. How’re things back at the manor?”

Cass shrugged, “Everyone is still waiting on the results of the search, so they all split up to work on other things.”

They moved to the car Cass had brought to pick him up in, it was one of Bruce's many cars, black and not too fancy. Tim held a hand out for the keys and after an eye roll Cass dropped them in his palm.

“I drove here.” she argued.

“You drive too fast for me and my coffee.” he replied.

“Fair.” she shrugged.

As Tim pulled away from the clocktower, still munching on his cinnamon roll Cass pipped back up.

“Can we stop at the craft store?”

He glanced at her, “Sure, but why?”

“Damian wanted some more colored pencils. He sent a list and asked me to stop if I had time.” She tugged a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and opened it to show him.

A detailed list of colors, brands, and what not to buy’s filled the page in Damian’s neat, tight, handwriting. Tim was surprised to find a little picture of a dog at the bottom of the page, it wasn’t as detailed as Damian usually did, and smiling for some reason.

“He drew it as a thank you, and promised to make me a better one with the pencils.” Cass said, catching where Tim’s eye had fallen, then she added, “Eyes on the road.”

Tim flicked the turn signal on the car to indicate he needed to go left, towards the craft store Damian frequented, “Why didn’t he come if he wanted to restock?”

Cass shrugged again, and folded the paper instead of crumpling it back up. She set it in her lap, fingers tapping on the paper with gentle tip taps.

Damian rarely missed a chance to get his own art supplies. He was as picky about them as Tim was over film or lenses for his cameras. Sure it was just a few replacement pencils, but even those Tim knew Damian would linger over for an hour if he was left to it. He wondered briefly if his mild concussion had anything to do with staying home. Maybe Alfred had told him he couldn’t leave? But no, it had been days at this point, he was probably cleared at last for most activities.

Maybe it was because he knew Cass was headed to pick up Tim.

He tried not to think too hard on that thought. They hadn’t really talked much lately. Both had been busy with their own things, and besides that, they didn’t really talk a lot to begin with. He’d thought they were doing better, but at the same time Tim knew they weren’t.

Tim reached out to snatch his coffee and take a sip from it. Now that he thought about it, maybe they were doing better after all. Damian had called him by his first name the night before. And he’d gone looking for clues as to Tim’s stalker. A queasy feeling bubbled up in Tim’s stomach. He’d been quick to dismiss Damian’s attempted apology back when they’d been at the mall, and now he was starting to wonder if he'd been really trying to mend that bridge. T im loved the idea of having a little brother, and way back when he'd first met Damian he'd been happy to have one, for all of two seconds. Still, sometimes he thought they had found that perfect spot of being siblings, and other times it felt like there was a gaping hole between them. Especially lately.

He pulled into the store’s parking lot not even realizing they’d made it there, his body on autopilot. Cass cheered as she climbed out of the car, and Tim stayed quiet.

When he looked up at the storefront he figured it out.

He might be jealous. Of the squirt.

Maybe it wasn't their past that was bothering him so much lately, but their present. Tim thought he'd shaken off those feelings in regards to Jason and Damian, but maybe he hadn't. Even in the wake of the family’s eyes turning on him Tim still couldn’t stop thinking about how Damian seemed to draw everyone in all the time. Dick, then Jason, Bruce with his fretting after they’d gotten hurt. It was--it was like he fit in a way Tim couldn’t quite imagine himself fitting again. Like they were both the same piece, and there was only one spot left on the puzzle, and Damian had swooped in just in time to fill it. Even now, he felt odd about the attention. Like the moment everything was done his family would stop looking at him again. Stop seeing Tim, because he’d messed up. He’d failed to be the one to fix everything and he no longer deserved to be seen.

“Tim?”

“Coming!” he said, locking the car door.

Inside he was hit with the smell of paint and paper. The whole place was a kaleidoscope of colors and supplies crammed together in a space that should have felt cluttered, but instead actually seemed homely. He followed Cass to the pencils and held each as she selected them, reading Damian’s list carefully, then making Tim double check “ just in case” .

He thought they’d be in and out, but once they’d found Damian’s stuff Cass insisted on browsing. Tim followed her, feeling a bit like Titus pattering after Damian as he instructed the dog on something very un-dog-like and soon his arms were full.

Cass had added extra packs of less high quality colored pencils, crayons, thin markers --not thick, because apparently those didn’t trace well-- and made him pick out a coloring book. She selected one full of animals, and Tim picked one that was more abstract. Like black and white stained glass. He and Cass locked eyes on an adult swear word coloring book and both grinned.

“For Jason?” Tim asked.

“And one for Dick.” Cass grinned.

Soon they’d selected adult coloring books for the whole family. Some simply because they knew they’d get a laugh out of them, and others from the knowledge of the recipient getting genuine delight from it.

By the time they left, Tim was feeling better. His day brightened even more when Cass hooked an arm through his at home, and dragged him into the living room.

“We are going to color and watch She-Ra.” she declared.

He could have argued and said he had work to do. But he knew Cass would tell him a break was good. And wasn’t that what he’d just told Babs? He could have fallen into other cases or dug out his 3Ds to play some Animal Crossing. But the best idea in the whole world right then was sitting on the floor and coloring with his sister, and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

He filled in two whole pages, first lined with marker --Cass had been right about the thin ones-- then colored in as dark as he could with his own box of colored pencils. At some point the sounds of She-Ra had been turned down as he and Cass chatted about everything.

She told stories of an adventure with Steph. He talked about Mindbender and how weird it was to have Jason in the house again. Then about how cool it was to have Jason in the house. Cass told him about a ballet she’d seen. All of it, whether it was little nothings or big changes, ebbed and flowed to the scritch scritch of pencil on paper, and legs folded up or kicked into the air.

At some point, Alfred brought in cocoa and water. Then sandwiches. Dick breezed through and gasped over his book, stopping to color in all of an F before getting bored and breezing back out. Jason cackled over his book, and then genuinely thanked them for thinking of him. Damian collected his pencils, didn’t complain about a single one, and stared at his own book of animals to color like it was made of gold before tucking it under an arm and scurrying away.

Bruce stayed the longest, lounging on a couch to add his own commentary between theirs, infrequent, but enough to say “I’m here, I’m listening, I love you.” before he too was called away. He planted a kiss on each of their heads before leaving.

It was Stephanie who broke up the peace. Showing up like a tornado, and stirring them from settled spaces into laughter. They traded pencils for controllers and fired up Smash Brothers for a wholly different, but still perfect, adventure.

There, surrounded in waves by his family Tim wondered if he’d been wrong earlier. If maybe the puzzle had room for all of them. And every time someone new came in, it just expanded and made room for them. He certainly felt like he fit in, and it was really nice.

#finding us #tim drake #cassandra cain #barbara gordon #other batfam are scattered in this one #fanfiction #precious posts #chapter 21 #I am flabbergasted every time I see how many chapters this fic has #it's so many #past me wrote a lot

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ceruleanmusings · 3 years

Text

Fandom: Big Time Rush Pairing: James Diamond x Mickey Mason (OC) Rating: T (for some cursing) Word Count: 11.3k Summary: When James gets a secret admirer gift on Valentine’s Day, he drags Mickey around the Palm Woods to find the sender – not knowing the sender is closer than he thinks. Contents: mentioned social anxiety, angst, idiots who like each other being idiots, semi-reluctant pining, show-standard humor and highjinks, implied disordered eating, valentine’s day, envy, self-loathing A/N: I was going to wait until the 14th to post this but I need to get it off my hands so I can stop picking and editing it to death. Have at it! Hope you like it! ALSO! Someone please let me know if it gets truncated at James’s text. On mobile it says the post is too long and cuts it off at the end but on desktop it’s fine. If I have to delete this and make it a two-parter I will! You need to see the proper ending! Also please leave comments on the fic if you liked it and feel so inclined (no pressure obvs), I’d love to read them on the body rather than tags so I can save them somewhere. :) Happy Valentine’s Day! Tag: @mystic-scripture @foxesandmagic @witchofinterest @juliesdahlias @raging-violets @ocfairygodmother @lareiism

Propping the large wicker basket against her popped hip, Mickey knocked on the door right beneath the square 2J placard. Her knuckles briefly touched the wood on the fourth knock when the door swung inwards. She quickly stopped her extending arm in its tracks, her fist resting inches from Kendall’s face. Eyes crossed, staring at her knuckles, he took a step back.

“Oh! Sorry Kindle. I didn’t think you’d get to the door so fast,” she apologized, wrapping her arms around the basket, bringing it to her front.

“You know, the door’s always open. You don’t have to knock.” As Kendall spoke, he moved to the side and brought his arm back in a sweeping gesture.

“Excuse me?” Mickey’s eyebrow popped upwards and she walked past him. “Kindle Knight, my momma’d have my hide if I just barged into someone’s home!” She carefully set the basket down onto the nearby table. Leaning her weight against one palm on the tabletop, she placed another on her hip. “I know there’s such a thing as being ‘Minnesota Nice’, but y’all’re asking for it.”

Kendall scoffed. “What do you mean? The only person who’d come right in is Bitters—and I see your point,” Kendall said. Mickey winked and made a clicking noise out the side of her mouth. “Is that it?” He gestured to the basket as he approached.

“Yep!” Lifting the lid, she removed a gallon Ziploc bag and set it aside as she leaned forward to review the contents. Not that she needed to, she made double-triple-quadruple sure everything she’d prepared the night before and that morning was in its rightful place before she snuck out. Jazz hadn’t noticed beneath her flurry of helping Mel pick out something for her date with Dak to Malibu. “If you don’t mind, I took a few liberties with what you wanted.” When he’d originally pulled her aside during a recording session asking her to make a picnic for him and Jazz, he’d merely shrugged and suggested that she put in anything “Valentine-y” when she asked if he wanted anything specific. So, she zhooshed it up a little; her sister deserved the best and that’s what she was going to ensure Kendall gave her. “You have a bottle of sparkling cider, strawberries, smoked salmon, caper, and goat cheese topped crostini, spinach and feta cheese pastry spirals, barbeque bacon and chicken bites, and, for dessert, slices of strawberry rhubarb pie and two flutes of beignet tiramisu with chocolate ganache.”

Kendall’s nose wrinkled. “Chocolate guh-whaaa?”

“Goodbye!” Mickey shoved the basket into his arms. Tilting her head to the side, she studied his red plaid shirt and reached out to fix the collar. “Keep the cold stuff in the insulated bag until you’re ready to eat it or else the beignets will start to get soggy.” Her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth when she went for the fringe of hair poking out from beneath his beanie. Ordinarily she’d balk at the sight of him wearing it, on a date no less, but Jazz liked him in his beanies so she could let it slide. Taking a step back, she surveyed the rest of his appearance and nodded her approval. “You’re all set! If you’re worried about your breath, I threw in some Ice Breakers and mini floss. Jazz is waiting for you at the park.”

“Thanks so much for this, Mickey,” he said, flashing a dimpled smile. His green eyes crinkled in the corners. “I really appreciate it.”

She beamed and a rush of satisfaction sent a pleased flush to her cheeks. She rocked back and forth on her navy Docs. “What are friends for if they can’t help you woo their sister?”

“…To give me free food?”

She pinched his cheek. “You’re lucky I like you.” Making a ‘shoo’ gesture with her hands, Mickey pushed Kendall towards the door. He flashed a finger guns sign at her and hurried away. Shaking her head, she turned on her heel, her locs cascading over one shoulder with the turn. “Okay Katie, he’s gone,” she called up to the loft above.

With a thumping commotion, Katie spilled out the open mouth of the swirly slide. Rounding the table, she crossed her arms. “You got the stuff?”

Mickey mimicked her gesture, raising a brow. “You got a cooler? I’m not letting all my hard work go to waste.”

Katie lifted her chin. “Yeah, I got a cooler.”

“Then I got your stuff.” Mickey picked up the Ziploc bag and handed it out to her. “Homemade chocolate turtles, at your service. I think seven per bag is a good amount. If anyone tries to push for more, remember that they’re the ones who are trying to get candy at the last minute on Valentine’s Day.”

“Got it!” With an eager—and almost manic—grin, Katie snatched the bag out of Mickey’s hands and shoved them into the small red cooler sitting atop of the breakfast bar. She dragged the cooler off the counter and hurried past her, making a beeline for the door. Calling over her shoulder she added, “And we’re splitting the profits 55-45.”

“Freeze, Kid!” Mickey squinted at Katie’s back, her hand gripping the doorknob. “We agreed on 50-50.” She wiggled a finger in the space between herself and Katie’s back.

Katie whirled around. “Yeah, but I have to think about my college fund. Between your band and playing bass for Big Time Rush, you have all the money you could need.” Mickey snorted. With widening eyes and a pout to her lower lip, Katie said. “Do you want to be the one to tell my mom you’re denying me the funds for a college education?”

Mickey pressed her lips together, doing her best to keep a smile off her face; partly in awe at her gall, and also partly with pride. The kid was good. Too good. Or else Mickey was a sucker for a well-placed pout. She poked her tongue into her cheek, dragging it against the soft, smooth surface and exhaled a sigh. “Fine! But if anyone asks where you got the candy from, make sure to mention my name. I want to try and get Mickey’s Morsels off the ground while I can. Guilty pleasures can be a good cash grab.”

“Then I want 10% of any future profits for the promotion.”

“Deal.”

“Deal!” Like Kendall, Katie pointed a finger gun gesture at her and hustled out the door.

When it slammed shut, Mickey dug her fingers into the side of her head. Geeze, this holiday. She didn’t mind making treats for her friends to use at their discretion, but she wanted no part in the holiday itself. It made people crazy, trying to find ways to profess their love for people. And for just that one day? The idea had never sat right with her. Why contain their appreciation to one day when the other three hundred and sixty-four were available? Not to mention the price gouging on flowers and candy—the turtle prices were reasonable!—and society’s penchant for making the single people feel like losers for not having that special someone for the one day.

Not that she was a loser. Okay, so maybe she had been slightly irked when she learned Mel and Jazz had plans with their boyfriends for the day. Her other sister, Sammi, had already flown to Nashville to be with her long-standing boyfriend for the occasion. Hell, even her aunt Kelly had a blind date for the night, a double with Miss Jennifer. (It wasn’t a blind date for Miss Jennifer, she was going out with Fabio. It was who Fabio was bringing for Kelly that attached the ‘blind’ classification. When Jazz offered up the suggestion Gustavo was her date, Kelly nearly broke her neck with how fast she denied that claim.)

She wasn’t envious, not at all, it’s just…well, it was a bit odd to be the only one without plans. They were supposed to do everything together, right? Wasn’t that the point of being born with them? How’d she miss the memo on getting a boyfriend? Not that it mattered. And she got over it anyway. Helping her sisters and her friends have special days was all she needed to feel fulfilled. With Kelly’s apartment empty, she had a pint of Häagen Dazs, a few pop-punk playlists, her pet ferret, and Legally Blonde to keep her company.

“Ahem.”

Or not.

Eyebrows crinkling, Mickey turned only to yelp at the sight of James stretched out on a black and white checkered blanket, one arm resting on a propped-up knee, the long stem of a deep red rose clamped between his smiling teeth. The orange couch had been pushed aside, allowing for the blanket to take its place on the floor. Plates of heart-shaped candy, brownies, soft pretzels, cookies, and cinnamon rolls covered the surface, nestled near two cans of Diet Coke, all beneath a crackling fire.

Mickey’s eyes widened and her thoughts raced so fast they nearly collided with one another. When did he get there? How did she not hear him? How did he set that up so fast? Where did he hide it? Where did he manage to find heart-shaped cinnamon rolls? He had to go for the pretzel too, didn’t he? Darn her appreciation for bread. And—was that a fireplace? Where the hell did he get a fireplace?

She sucked a breath in through her nose, fighting to ease the twitching to her lip and the racing of her heart and the quivering in her legs. Upon closer inspection the fire was only a setting on a tv screen propped up on the floor. Okay, that was good. Why he didn’t just use the one hanging off the wall she didn’t dare ask. Like with Carlos, sometimes it was better to not ask questions.

James removed the rose from his mouth, his smile not budging an inch. “I was just thinking, since we’re both here, and we’re both single, and it’s Valentine’s Day, how about you and me”—he gestured to the space between them with the rose; Mickey watched as a petal fell off and fluttered to the ground—“spend the day together. We could even make-out—ow, thorn.”

Oh, dear god. She had a feeling God wouldn’t help her if he came up with this form of torture for her to walk into. But it was enough for her to grab her wits—not that his deepening voice shook them loose or anything—and look him in the eye. Away from his smile. He had a nice smile; she could admit that. Okay, it was a great smile. But that wasn’t the point!

“No thank you,” she said shortly, managing to find her voice after swallowing the lump of panic rising in her throat. “This…” she gestured to the scene in front of her, “this was nice but…no. No thank you.” Turning to the door, she jumped when she spotted James blocking her path. What the…? A glance over her shoulder showed an empty blanket. Facing him, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder and asked, “How did you do that?”

James ignored her question. “Maybe we can go see a movie instead. They’re replaying Kiss and Tell.”

She didn’t know which was worse: his suggestion or her traitorous mind considering it for a second. A fleeting second, it shot out of her brain faster than it came in, but it existed. And that was enough for her to shut it down, banish it away and keep a tighter hold on herself. In fact, she wrapped her arms around herself, as if she needed to hold herself back from doing something she couldn’t take back, something ridiculously stupid. Because she knew what he implied with that suggestion; the switch from his frank sharing of his intentions to a covert suggestion nearly knocked her off kilter. She really needed to get a grip.

“No thank you,” she repeated, firming up the three words. She moved to walk around him when he took a large step to the left, blocking her path. She took a step to her left and he mirrored her, still standing in her way. She allowed a smile through, remembering he did the same when they first met nearly a year ago. Some things changed, including the cut of his long shaggy hair (thankfully!), and some things stayed the same.

“What else do you have to do today?” The roll of his shoulders, the shove of his hands into his pockets, and the relaxed ease as he offered up the question, as if he knew the answer, rankled her.

Shifting her grip, she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Stuff.”

He squinted. “What kind of stuff?”

“Important stuff. It’s…” she stretched out the last letter, sounding much like a hissing snake as she quickly thought. “It’s my hair day.”

“Your hair day is usually the third Sunday of the month. It’s only the second.”

Shit. She should have known he’d know that. He was the only other person outside her family who had dedicated hair days and she may have asked his opinion on scalp detox treatments once or twice. “I need the extra work. My locs are dry.”

“I can help.”

Help by touching her hair? Help by erasing any sort of space between them? Help by being close enough for her to spell the warm ‘Cuda man spray clinging to his neck? (They’d changed something in the formula, so he didn’t swell up into a hive monster anymore.) No. Nope. Bad idea. Her eyes darted to the oven nearby, displaying the time, and her pulse thudded at the time. 12:30? Crap, crap crap!

“Again, no thank you. I just want to be alone. Oh, is that the time? I have to go!” Finally, she managed to get around him and made a quick beeline for the door.

James followed her. “Who wants to be alone on Valentine’s Day?”

“I do.” She had to get out. She had to leave now. Good thing they never locked their door, she could make a quick exit. Just had to open the door and make her escape and get to the bus and—shove her face into the fronds of an aloe plant. She lifted her brown eyes, zeroing in on the name stitched into the navy shirt: Busy Bee Florist.

Oh nooooooo.

“What’s up? I gotta delivery for’a James Diamond.” The deliveryman’s strong Brooklyn accent threw Mickey for a loop. Yes, that was the reason she still stood in the doorway, gaping at him, rather than making her escape. She may as well have closed the door in her own face. Escape was futile.

“I’m James Diamond.” Out the corner of her eye, Mickey saw James point to himself. She needed to move, she needed to leave, but weights in her legs kept her rooted to the spot despite the alarm bells going off in her mind.

“Sign ‘ere.” The deliveryman shoved the plant into Mickey’s hands and removed the clipboard from beneath his arm. James quickly scrawled his signature at the bottom of the paper and handed the clipboard back. The deliveryman lifted his cap in a halfhearted gesture grumbled, “Have a bee-utiful day”, and walked away.

Humming, James closed the door, pinching the sleeve of Mickey’s white and navy stripped shirt to tug her out the way. With puckered eyebrows he took the plant out of her hands, turning the cream-colored base side to side, studying the long blades of the plant. “Oooh! What’s this?” Eyes settling on the white card wedged between a few blades, he set the plant down on the dinner table and plucked it. With a twist of his wrist, he turned the card around, eyes scanning the line of text on it.

Mickey took the chance to tiptoe towards the door. She knew exactly how long it would take him to read the short note written on the cardstock. She knew exactly how long it would take him to read it again. And if she moved fast enough, she could be out the door and safe and be back at her apartment cuddled up with her ferret and he’d be none the wiser and she’d be safe.

James’s hoot of excitement dashed her hopes when he raced over to her, grasped her shoulders, and shook her, sending her blue and black locks shooting forward and back. “Do you know what this is?” She didn’t get a chance to get a word out when he continued speaking, “It’s a secret admirer note! I have a secret admirer!” She stumbled away when he let her go, grasping onto the dinner table to keep from falling over as her world tilted and swirled. Blinking a few times, she waited for her eyes to stop rolling and her legs to keep her firmly planted on the ground. Only when she righted herself did she notice the smirk curling on James’s lips and the sparkle shinning in his hazel eyes. “Well, I wonder who the lucky lady is getting a first-class seat on Air Diamond. Destination: love!”

…Huh. Mickey pressed her lips together, straining to keep away the curl of…something she didn’t want to name which fought to appear on her face. Not only ten minutes ago he tried to put the moves on her and now he was up and ready to find some other girl? Then what was the whole point? Something stirred in her stomach, a sour bubbling led to a crackling beneath her skin. A livewire, making her fingers twitch against the table.

“—Okay, let’s go!”

Crap. She hadn’t been listening to him. She looked up at him from behind her curtain of hair. “Go where?”

“My secret admirer is out in the Palm Woods somewhere and you’re gonna help me find her.”

Her breath knocked out of her all at once when his words landed on her. No, no, no! He wasn’t supposed to do that! He wasn’t supposed to try and trail it back to the sender. The note was anonymous for a reason! Wasn’t that the whole point of a secret admirer? The idea stoked her panic and had her uttering in a pitchy squeak, “What!? Me!? Why me?”

“Because you’re a girl and you can send out your girl signals to help me figure out who it is.” He wiggled his fingers in her direction as he spoke.

She stared at him, an eye slowly closing to a squint as his words registered. “…Girls aren’t bats! We don’t have some sort of…girl…echolocation radar!” Make him change his mind, get him off the trail, do something!

“Maybe not. But you can’t say no to this smile.” James pointed at his face, as if she somehow forgot what his smile looked like when his lips pulled back to let the dazzle shine through.

She swore she heard a record scratch sound off in her head. And she stared. She didn’t plan to, she didn’t want to, but it just…happened. The staring. When he smiled at her like that, it was if her brain went to mush and needed time to power down and process that a smile like that was directed at her. And the worst part? He knew how to work it and get her flimsy resolve to crack. It scattered at her feet, useless. “…Godammit.”

If possible, James’s smile shined brighter. The boy could light up all of Vegas with the wattage powering him. Mickey looked away, or else she’d do something she’d regret to wipe away that self-satisfied look in his eye.

The smug jerk.

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

Okay, okay, don’t panic Mickey, don’t panic! It’s just…a matter of putting everything into perspective. You sent James a plant. Just a plant. People send people plants all the time. No big deal. Okay, so there was a note too, but it was just a note. A nice note. Just something you’ve been thinking. People share thoughts all the time! It’s not a big deal! …But now he’s dragged you around the Palm Woods because he wants to find whoever sent him the plant. Because of course he wasn’t going to let it go, you big time dumbass! You could probably tell him that you sent it and end this…but then he’d probably blow that out of proportion and—

“Okay! Do you remember the plan?” James popped out from behind the line of bushes around the Palm Woods pool, a tree hat sitting comfortably on his head.

Lifting herself up next to him, Mickey spat out a few leaves coating her tongue and brushed away the few sticking to her hair. “Is the hat really necessary?”

“Yes! All of our good plans involve tree hats!” Mickey’s mouth turned to the side. Since when have their plans turned out well? Or could be called good? The boys somehow manage to turn doing nothing into complete chaos and James thinks their plans work? The boy really did float along on a cloud of his own ego. “By the way, I got you one too.” James pulled a hat from seemingly out of nowhere.

Mickey frowned at it. “You know I can’t wear it. Hats don’t fit over my hair.”

“Oh, I thought about that. I got it a size bigger. And!” He flipped it over, pointing at the interior. “I custom ordered it. The inside is lined with satin so it won’t pull on or damage your hair.”

Stunned, it took a second for her to reach out and take the hat, carefully placing it over her hair and, whaddya know, it fit perfectly. “Thanks James,” she said with a soft smile.

His shoulders bounced in a jaunty shrug. “No problem.” Then he reached out, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and drew her into his side. A strangled sound rumbled in her chest and a flush darkened her cheeks, the one squished against his pec. Electricity shot down her arm, right beneath his soft grip, but that was nothing to worry about. Just a static shock. “Now remember: you go over to the Jennifers, strike up a conversation, and then I’ll slip in and close the deal.”

“Yeah, but James, this is the seventh girl you’ve tried.” Mickey lifted her hand and started counting on her fingers. “You’ve already called that Annie girl who you thought was a mermaid, you called Heather Fox, you texted Mercedes—”

“How could she not want this”—he gestured wildly to his face—“as one of her potential boyfriends? How could she not pick me? Huh? How?”

“—then there was that Muffy girl who you say tried to kill you—”

“Yes, but that was only when I was a vampire,” James supplied.

Mickey studied his face, trying to find any hint of jest only to come up empty. Anyway! “After that you tried some Penny Lane girl who you say was a spy.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “You just tried with Sunblock Girl—”

“Yeah, that still stings,” James mumbled, rubbing at a slightly reddened eye. “She has good aim with that sunscreen.”

“—and then there was that contest winner. Tiffany? Or Jeanette? …Which one did you end up calling anyway?”

James made a face. “I don’t know. Tiffnette?”

Mickey slapped her palm against her face and pulled her features down. This boy. “I’m just saying, you’re zero for seven. Why don’t you quit while you’re behind? Isn’t the secret admirer part supposed to be kept a secret?”

James swung his head around to face her, his bottom lip pulled up into an angry pout. “If I wanted someone to make things make sense, I would’ve brought Logan with me.”

“Logan’s on a double with Carlos.”

“I know!” he all but shouted, eyes blazing, “Don’t remind me! Everyone else gets to be so happy! When’s it gonna be my turn, hmm? Don’t I deserve to be happy too? It’s not like pretty people don’t have problems!” Mickey bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t going to touch that. “And right now, my problem is that I’m not dating a Jennifer. Now get over there and help me.”

“Which one do you want me to ask?”

“Yes!” He pushed at her shoulder and she stumbled sideways, catching her balance before eating it on the cement around the pool. Grumbling, she yanked off her tree hat and tossed it over to James.

Curling and uncurling her fingers, Mickey counted every step she took as she got closer to the Jennifers. They sat around their table by the cabanas as always, drinking identical pink smoothies, scripts held up to their faces. Mickey blew out a breath through her pursed lips. It wasn’t that she and the Jennifers didn’t get along, they were nice…enough. She liked Jennifer 3, sometimes they talked about hair treatments or what skincare products to use for dark marks. But it was hard to get her away from the other Jennifers so their conversations were few.

In unison they arched their brows, lowered their scripts, and removed their large, round sunglasses from their faces. Mickey’s attempt at a smile stalled halfway beneath their perfect, poreless, pristine auras. They sat cast in a golden outline, as if a permanent spotlight illuminated them. And there she stood by comparison, rusted silver, barely. It’s no wonder James insisted it had to be one of them.

“Hey guys,” Mickey greeted them, shoved her curled hands into her pockets. She rocked back and forth on her heels and used her chin to point towards the bound pages on the table. “New scripts?”

“We have an audition coming up for Savannah Louisiana: normal girl by day, singing spy by night,” Jennifer 1 explained, her lips curling in a pleased smile.

“Yeah, but why are you studying them today? I figured you’d have some sort of date or something. It is Valentine’s Day.”

“We need to give the boys of the Palm Woods time to think they have a chance with us,” Jennifer 2 said. With a sweep of her arm, she motioned to the piles, buckets, and of flowers, teddy bears, and wrapped gifts surrounding them. An easel nearby held looked like a large poster of the three Jennifers but was really, upon closer inspection, made out of M&Ms in varying colors.

Mickey let out a low whistle at the sight of it. Talk about dedication. “…Don’t know how I missed that,” she mumbled. Out the corner of her eye she spotted James removing his tree hat and whipping out a handheld mirror to check his hair. He winked at his reflection and cocked a finger gun. A flash of irritation coursed through her. “So…you have a lot of admirers.”

“Of course we do,” Jennifer 3 said, shoving her sunglasses into her hair. She spoke as if the notion was obvious. Which it probably was for them. They probably got mountains of cards and gifts back in school, being the envy of the hallways. Mickey knew that type well; her sister Sammi was one of them.

“Did you give any out?”

The three girls shared a look and burst out laughing. Mickey tugged at her hair again, fighting off the familiar unsettling pooling in the pit of her stomach at their laughter for asking such a question. “We don’t give out admirer notes. We just get them,” Jennifer 2 corrected, a slight sneer curling her lip and wrinkling her nose. “We have a reputation to uphold. We’re not desperate.”

She ignored the sting of their unintentional dig, spotting James walking towards the Jennifers with an odd pattern to his steps. As if he listened to bouncy disco music only he could hear. Oh no, oh no, oh no! Clearing her throat, Mickey lifted her voice, eyes darting back and forth between the Jennifers and James, “So…you’ve never sent out admirer gifts to anyone? Ever? Not even today?” James continued his approach. Geeze, how could he not hear her? Even the Jennifers caught onto the stilted wave of her questioning.

“No,” Jennifer 3 replied, eyes squinting. “And even if we did we wouldn’t wait until the last minute.”

“Besides, we have dates with the Owens Brothers tonight. They’re taking us to Nobu,” Jennifer 2 added, rolling back her shoulders.

Mickey’s head tilted to the side. “Weren’t they just cast in Savannah Louisiana?”

Jennifer 1 smirked. “Yep.”

“Ladies,” James trilled, sliding into view. Their faces remained unimpressed. “Don’t you look beautiful today. You know I really admire how you get your hair so shiny. I can even see myself in it. And I look good.” Mickey elbowed him in the side when he reached up to fix his hair and hit him with a hard stare. Just get this over with, please! “Right! Yeah, so, anyway, speaking of Valentine’s, I’m going to offer one of you ladies the chance to ride on Air Diamond, non-stop express to Love Island.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the note. Mickey lifted her thumb to her mouth, raking her teeth against the edge, taking great interest in Buddha Bob powering up his hedge clippers. “By the way, thanks for the plant and the note. Maybe we can break out the aloe and pamper each other.” Mickey put her hand up to her face, hiding the way her mouth twisted.

“We didn’t send you a secret admirer note, James,” Jennifer 2 told him in bored tones.

“What?” James’s face immediately fell. “You didn’t?”

“Of course not!” Jennifer 1 said with a scoff.

“You heard her, it’s not them, let’s go!” Mickey heard how shrill her voice had become around her thumb, but she didn’t care. She grasped his arm to move him; he didn’t budge, save for the muscle bulging beneath her hand. She snatched her hand away as if it were on fire, much like her face.

Frowning, James looked over the card again. “Well, if you didn’t, who did?”

Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me! Mickey bit her thumbnail so hard it popped and cracked between her teeth. Jennifer 3’s eyes slid over to her, her eyebrows lifting. Mickey’s eyes widened and she turned her head a couple inches to the left and then to the right. An amused expression passed through Jennifer 3’s face only to be replaced with a mask of indifference in the blink of an eye.

“Do we look like we care?” Jennifer 2 asked. “Now move, you’re blocking the views of the envious girls who wish they were us.” She waved her hand in a shooing gesture, putting her sunglasses back on. Jennifer 1 and Jennifer 3 mimicked her gesture.

“See? They didn’t send it. You’ve tried every girl at the Palm Woods. Now can we go?” Mickey turned to leave, stopping only when James grabbed her by the crook of her elbow.

“Yeah, every girl at the Palm Woods,” James repeated. Lifting his finger, he continued, “We haven’t tried the Palm Woods Park yet.”

The alarm bells returning, clanging louder than before. “I don’t want to go to the park. I want the ice cream that’s waiting for me.”

“I’ll buy you some. Cookie dough’s your favorite, right?”

“Right, but—”

“Do you dare try to stop me on my love quest?” he demanded, pointing a finger in her face. Her eyes crossed trying to keep his finger in focus. Geeze, how was she supposed to answer that and not sound like a jerk? …Then again, that was probably the point. “Let’s go!” She watched James’s retreating back as he marched around the pool, heading for the exit.

Mickey slowly turned to the Jennifer’s. Her eyes flickered across their faces, shoulders sagging. “…Who told you?” she slowly asked.

“Carlos,” they replied in unison, smirking all the while.

Mickey’s head lolled back as she groaned. “Should’ve known.” He couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. And it wasn’t that she wanted to tell him in the first place, he wore her down with his questioning when she called to ask, hypothetically, what kind of flowers the guys would want if they were to get them. It was a gamble asking him, she knew, but they were buds and she’d get a straight answer from him regarding James. She took too big a risk and had to tell him something to keep him from talking. Bribing him with four vouchers to whale watch clearly only worked for so long (Aunt Kelly got showered with gifts from potential clients trying to sway her into making an offer all the time).

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Jennifer 2 said, “it’s cute that you’re trying to shoot so far out of your league.”

Mickey didn’t have time to address those wounding words; realization landed with a heavy thud, dragging her attention with it: if the Jennifers knew…who else knew?

-------

“—And now, and now, he’s dragged me up and down and all around accosting some poor innocent girls trying to find his secret admirer and I don’t think he’s gonna quit!” Mickey paused her ranting to shove another spoonful of tiramisu into her mouth. She chewed the beignet piece, swallowed, and continued, “See, see, it’s this…this stupid holiday. It makes everyone go crazy. Hallmark just haaad to go and make people read into everything and think that this one day was super important and everyone had to go and choke one each other’s love fumes. What ever happened to people wanting to be nice to other people? I don’t need one day to do that. Okay, maybe I could’ve picked a better day to send the dang plant, but I wasn’t supposed to be there when he got it! And who said Valentine’s Day is all about relationships anyway? It’s for friends too! James is my friend. I, as a friend, was trying to cheer a friend up! You’ve seen how Uncle Gustavo has been on him lately!” Jazz and Kendall stared at Mickey, taking long drags of the sparkling cider bubbling in their glasses. Mickey glared at them. “Are either of you going to say something?”

The two glanced at each other and simultaneously removed the straws from their mouths and leaned forward to set their glasses down on the red and black picnic blanket. Kendall leaned back on his palms, crossing one ankle over the other, and gave her a hard look. Jazz, instead, chuckled and shook her head. “I only have five words for you.” She held up a fist and extended a finger with each word. “I. Told. You. So.”

Mickey’s nose wrinkled. “That’s four words.”

Jazz leaned forward and smacked her open palm against Mickey’s forehead. “Dumbass!” Smiling sweetly beneath Mickey’s glare she added, “That’s five,” and popped a salmon-topped crostini into her mouth.

“Why don’t you just tell James you sent him the plant?” Kendall asked.

“Why do people keep asking me that?” Mickey said through gritted teeth. Because it’s the obvious solution, dummy, her thoughts screamed back at her; she shoved it aside. “You know James better than I do,” she said, jabbing a spoon in his direction. “You know what he’s like. If he’s this rabid just trying to find his secret admirer, he’ll be worse if he found I sent it to him. Because then he’ll want to know why I sent it to him and then I’ll have to say—”

“That you like him?” Jazz offered. She held up her hands when Mickey brandished the spoon in her direction. “I’m just sayin’.”

Mickey dug the spoon back into the glass of tiramisu, the utensil clanged against the side of the glass. It sounded so simple coming out of her mouth but it just…wasn’t. She wasn’t even sure what name to put on her feelings for James. They were positive, mostly. She could admit that. He was funny and fun and sweet and loyal and supportive. But then his ego swelled and all that got eclipsed by his narcissistic, shallow, and self-centered tendencies. Though that wasn’t what made her pay attention to him in the first place, his advances aside.

No, it was that look in his eye when he hit a particularly difficult note with ease. That satisfied smile on his face when he completed a dance sequence with moves so sure it was like he floated on the music. It was the drive powering him through recording sessions, take after take after take, even though he nailed it back on the third because it wasn’t up to his standards and his level of perfection. It was the pride burning through his chest and the passion shining in his smile when he wrote and composed a song, pouring his heart into the process. It was the ease of which he laid out his vulnerabilities and didn’t apologize for it or for his existence.

But he made it complicated. Baseline, she did like James. She liked all the guys of Big Time Rush, even if they came with a hurricane of chaos. But liking James and liking James were two different things and it was much easier to face one than the other. That’s what the aloe plant was for, to say what she couldn’t and didn’t want to face. She could give away any sort of feelings she had for him with the plant and didn’t have to look at it ever again.

Besides, it wasn’t like James was serious with his come-ons. The advances were just to bide his time; she knew that; it was how he worked. He bounced around from girl to girl like a bee searching for pollen. And she was just one flower in a field, a baby’s breath next to a rose. No, this was much easier.

Well, as easy as things could be when she spent all afternoon hovering around girls sitting in the lobby waiting for a thumbs up or a thumbs down, pretending to get candy from the vending machine to scope out potential suspects, and sitting by the elevator with a hockey stick waiting to trip up any guy who could get in the way of James and his “destiny” with guilt rolling a bigger rock in her stomach as time went on.

See, this is why she hated Valentine’s Day.

“And why an aloe plant?” Kendall asked.

Mickey dragged the spoon around the remnants of the empty dessert flute, licked the chocolate ganache off the scoop, and set the glass aside, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. “Because you can cut open an aloe plant and use the extract to heal scrapes, treat burns, and for basic skin care. Plus, if you want, you can add it to your smoothies for an extra boost of Vitamin C or for an aid in digestive health,” Mickey replied.

“So, it’s perfect for James.” Kendall nodded. “You must really like him.” Kendall laughed when Mickey swatted at him.

“Thanks for keeping it a secret, sis,” Mickey said, turning to Jazz.

“Hey, I don’t keep secrets from Kendall. Especially not about this,” Jazz said.

“Why is this the exception?”

Jazz smirked. “Because this is fun for me.” She took another long sip of cider, turning her eyes skywards. Mickey made a mental note to look into getting a rubber snake for their next birthday. See how Jazz liked that bit of fun. When Jazz reached for the plate holding the pie piece, Mickey snatched it away from her. “Dude,” Jazz uttered.

“No pie for you!” Mickey made a show of stabbing the pie piece with a fork and shoving the broken section off in her mouth. Dang, she was good. She mentally patted herself on the back for having the foresight to leave an entire other pie in the fridge back at Aunt Kelly’s apartment.

“You can share mine,” Kendall said, offering Jazz his plate.

“Don’t be mad at me because you’re too much of a chicken shit to tell James,” Jazz said, sticking out her tongue.

Mickey scoffed. “Easy for you to say! You and Kendall have been dating basically since you met each other!” The thing was, at the time, Jazz and Kendall didn’t realize they were dating. But what else could it be called when they spent nearly every day for the past year texting, facetiming, and emailing each other when they were apart and then going to the movies, going skateboarding, scheming, playing guitar at the recording studio, and going for walks when they were together? If you wanted one, you’d find the other. By the time they jointly announced they were dating, it was more of the sake of convenience than a need. None of them—Mickey, her sisters, and the rest of the boys of Big Time Rush—batted an eyelash about it. As far as they could see, it was inevitable.

“Look, James is my bud,” Kendall said, “And I want him to be happy. And I think you two overdramatic weirdos could be happy together.”

Mickey scoffed, not bothering to hide the offense on her face. “I’m not overdramatic.”

Kendall’s eyebrows rose. “Oh really?” He reached out and smacked the pie plate out of her hands.

“My pie!” Mickey screeched, watching in dismay as it landed upside-down on the grass. “You monster!” Kendall pressed his lips together, giving her a pointed stare with his green eyes. “There is no such thing as being overdramatic about food,” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

“Mickey, why is it so bad for James to know how you feel?” Jazz asked.

Mickey pulled at a few blades of grass, twisting her mouth to the side. Sheesh, where could she start with that?

“Well, it’s not Katie,” James announced, dropping onto the blanket next to Mickey. Three pairs of eyes swiveled in his direction as he rocked from side to side, grasping two small cups of ice cream. “She even laughed in my face, which was kind of rude.” Speaking out the side of his mouth, in a stage whisper, he added, “I think she’s in denial.” With a little laugh, he shrugged his shoulders and held out a cup for Mickey.

“No luck then?” Kendall asked. Mickey squinted at him. He stared back innocently. She didn’t buy it. He was a planner for a reason. What was he up to? The nudge of James’s elbow to her side broke her stare. She accepted the cup with a fleeting smile and dug into the ice cream for a large chunk of cookie dough near the surface.

“No. She’s really hiding. And I don’t get why. I mean why spend the day alone when you could spend the day with this?” Using his spoon, James gestured to his body, from crossed legs, up his torso, and in circles around his face. His head jerked back in a recoil as a bit of ice cream flew off the spoon and landed brushing ice cream against his nose. Mickey chuckled at the sight, reaching out to brush it off his nose. James in turn flashed an appreciative smile. She caught Jazz’s eye and dropped her hand to her lap.

“Well, it can’t be hard to trace the delivery back to the sender,” Kendall said nonchalantly.

A spike of fear shot down her spine. What? Mickey shoved her spoon too far in her mouth, scraping the back of her throat. A series of coughs made her double over, reddening her face, bringing tears to her eyes. Jazz and Kendall, the traitorous traitors, merely stared at her. If Mickey looked hard enough, she’d be able to see identical devil horns on their heads. James at least had the decency to rub circles between her shoulder blades. Not that his attention could be delayed from his love quest for too long.

“Keep talking,” James said.

“No, James, we should…we should get going,” Mickey said, pushing his arm. Her voice now took on a slight rasp. “We’re interrupting their date.”

“I mean call the place,” Kendall hurried, a sparkle in his eye. “Ask for the person who delivered the flowers and get a name from them.”

“Or at least get the name of the person who paid for it,” Jazz added.

“Isn’t there some sort of privacy in place?” Mickey asked, silently sending them mental waves to shut up! “You know, for nosy busybodies?”

“Not if they have a kid who just so happens to like Big Time Rush and wouldn’t mind getting free tickets to our next concert,” Kendall said with a simple shrug of his shoulders.

“Jazz, your boyfriend’s trying to sell his soul,” Mickey tattled, jabbing her finger in Kendall’s direction.

Jazz made a meh sound. “As long as the outside of him stays the same I don’t think I’d notice a difference.”

“Nice,” Kendall muttered. His brief frown turned into a smile when Jazz leaned over and kissed his cheek.

James dug into his pocket, removing his phone with bright eyes. Mickey’s eyes darted around, searching for any sort of escape from the gnawing hole in her stomach. Do something, do something, do something! Lunging forward, Mickey grabbed James’s phone, drew back her arm, and threw it. Silence settled over the group like a thick, heavy, wool blanket. Calmly, Mickey scooped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Only when she swallowed did she look at their bewildered expressions and said, “Spasm. Sorry.” Then she sat up straight. “Oh look! There’s Jo!” Internally she cringed at foisting James off onto one of her friends but, well, desperate times, desperate measures. He scurried away in the blink of an eye and Mickey repeatedly hit her forehead with her fist.

“You know what I think?” Jazz asked.

“That I’m in Hell?” Mickey replied, her dull words directed down towards her lap.

Jazz snorted. “No, but you deserve however this ends.”

Mickey peeked up at them from beneath her lashes. “How’s the air up on your high horse?”

Kendall and Jazz grinned. “Sweet.”

--------

“I’m not your secret admirer,” Lucy said the minute she opened her apartment door. Looking up at James, she crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow, effectively killing the expectant smile on his face in one shot.

“How’d you know that’s what I was gonna ask you?” he asked.

Rolling her eyes, Lucy said, “Because it’s all over the Palm Woods that you’re asking every girl if they’re your secret admirer. Honestly, I don’t blame them for keeping it a secret. You’re getting a little intense.” Lucy was going to get a fruit basket, Mickey decided. The swell of pride growing within her for having such a sensible friend ebbed away as fast as it came when Lucy’s eyes shifted over to her. “And why’re you helping him?” Lucy continued, pointing a finger in James’s direction.

“…I have girl radar or something,” Mickey replied, cringing at the rasp still affixed to her words. It was a lot easier to verbalize that than her spine being as soft as Jell-O.

Lucy blinked and shook her head. “Okay, even if that were a thing, that doesn’t make sense.”

“You know I don’t make sense,” James said. “Besides, love doesn’t have to make sense. I just want a Valentine. Why is that so bad?”

“You can’t coerce people into being what you want just because you want it,” Lucy said.

“…If I knew what that word meant I’d say ‘yes I can’!”

“You realize you’re encouraging this right?” Lucy asked Mickey.

She nearly laughed aloud. Maybe Lucy was right on paper but the lengths she’d gone through the whole day would say otherwise. Aside from throwing his phone any time he got it out, she nearly had to tackle James to keep him away from Logan, Camille, Carlos, and Stephanie when they crossed paths in the lobby (of which she then had to dodge another make-out offer as she got off him), she got a nasty shock to her foot kicking out the plug to the computers, and nearly blew herself into the pool with Bhudda Bob’s industrial leaf blower in her attempts to blow James away from Sandy and Mandy Simms (honestly that was for his own good. He wasn’t going to address them by the right names, and she knows firsthand how annoying that was).

Instead, Mickey mumbled. “Trust me, his one-track mind doesn’t need any of my help,”

“Yeah!” James nodded.

“So, you don’t find it odd you haven’t had any luck finding this girl?” Lucy asked. “Assuming it’s a girl.”

“It’s a girl!” James insisted, his voice tightening.

“Fine.” Lucy leaned against the doorway, eyes shifting between the two. “Still. It has to be someone around here, right?”

“Lucy,” Mickey all but growled through clenched teeth.

Lucy ignored her. “I don’t know why they’d want to be shy about it. I mean, you are James Diamond of Big Time Rush, after all.” Out the corner of her eye Mickey spotted James standing up straighter, propped up by her words. “Then again, girls know not to step on another girl’s territory…”

Mickey wanted her fruit basket back.

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“I mean you’ve been hanging out with Mickey all day, right? Girls might think she’s called dibs on you. Give them more of a reason to stay anonymous.” Mickey strained hard to keep her head facing forward, the expression on her face neutral beneath James’s penetrating gaze. She tucked her shakings hands into the crooks of her arms and evened out her breathing. And Lucy, all the while, held the tight-lipped smile of someone guarding a laugh. Waving her hand, Lucy stood straight, “But I could be wrong. What do I know? I don’t have a Valentine”—James moved to open his mouth—“not that I’m looking for one! You’re already taken.”

“There’s plenty of me to go around,” James insisted.

“I’m not into sharing.” Snickering, Lucy grasped her door and moved to close it. “Well, have fun on your little date.”

Mickey’s relieved sigh of “Thanks” quickly shifted over to her indignant shout of, “Wait, no! This isn’t a date!” Her words bounced harmlessly off Lucy’s closed door.

“Whatever!” Lucy called from the other side.

Pulling her lips inwards, Mickey slowly turned, steeling herself for…something. A suggestive comment, a flirty smile, swagger pouring out of his, well, pores. Not…this. The rounding of his shoulders, balancing an invisible weight, the shadow blanketing the sparkle in his eyes, the sharp rise and fall of his chest rather than the steady sureness and puffed preening. Releasing her lips, they fell into a soft frown. “James?” She reached out, her fingers grazing his arm. His head snapped up, eyes settling on her face, and with a blink of his (unfairly!) long lashes, the light returned to his eyes.

“Hey, no, I’m good. Let’s take a break. I'm getting hungry.”

She didn’t bother to point out he’d already eaten ice cream, because eating sounded like a good idea. She needed food. She needed to stop the gnawing in her stomach in ways only food could satiate. The hole opened, allowing more room for guilt and shame around the pie and tiramisu and ice cream she’d already consumed. Better to eat something else before the black hole ate her. At least that way, if she was full, there was no room for anything else.

-------

It wasn’t that she didn’t want the sandwich James prepared. He even remembered not to put mayonnaise on hers; not even the guys at Subway could manage that. (Okay, so she kind of mumbled when she had to place orders so it was easy to confuse ‘tomato’ for ‘mayo’ and she could have corrected them but that was more trouble than it was worth.) Despite the clawing deep in the pit of her stomach she couldn’t make herself eat, not with the waves of despair rolling off James, threatening to drown her. He kept his smile, but it was tight lipped, half-blown, wrong.

He leaned against the refrigerator, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, shoulders pressing against the glass, holding his weight up, taking steady sips from a juice box. One arm wrapped tight around his torso, as if trying to hug himself.

Mickey picked at the sandwich, tearing little bits of bread and turkey breast and lettuce only to smoosh it into little spheres, littering her plate. James left his untouched.

“Is there something wrong with me?” James had lifted his mouth from the straw; the red from the juice darkened them. He wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, he set the juice box down. “I mean, there can’t be much wrong with me, right?”

“Uhhhh….” Mickey flicked a few of the sandwich spheres around her plate.

“I just don’t get it,” James continued as if she didn’t say anything, as if she weren’t in the room. “Why is it so easy for everyone else? I mean, Kendall. Right? We move here and right away Kendall gets Jo. And then Logan gets Camille…” He held his hand in the air and waved it side to side. “Kind of. And then Carlos has his thing with Stephanie. And then Kendall and Jo break up. But then we meet you guys and, well, you know Kendall and Jazz.” James drummed his fingers against the cardboard on the juice box. “…Kendall has it all. You know? The family, the friends, the girl.” Mickey zeroed in on that one word. Girl. Not girls. “And he didn’t even try for it. Not really. It falls into his lap.” The gnawing in her stomach grew though she couldn’t bring herself to eat anything, no matter how hard it screamed for food. A lump rose in her throat; she curled her trembling fingers into her palms. “Yeah, maybe I’ve been with girls. But lately I see Logan and Carlos and Kendall and they’re with girls. And I want that, I guess. And then this plant came…” Setting aside the juice box, he shifted and leaned forward, resting his elbows against the breakfast bar Mickey sat at, peering at the aloe plant. The minute he reentered 2J he picked it up and turned it around and around in his hands, as if searching for some sort of hidden compartment on it and discarded it as if it had personally offended him. Now he stared at it so hard she swore it’d eventually catch fire. “I thought maybe this was my chance for…something. I mean, my parents didn’t care much about spending time with me until I got out here. And even then, I don’t see my mom much. She doesn’t ask about all this.” He spun his finger in the air, encircling the room. His cheeks squished when he propped them up on his fists. Mickey’s leg bounced against the footrest of the bar stool. And even as her body tensed, begging her to run, she sat, enthralled, in a sick game of chicken. “Maybe it was a joke. Or I’m the joke, for thinking…” Silence ticked by, each pulse pounding Mickey over the head: say something do it, do it now, talk!

Her lips trembled, whether from the onslaught of his words, the ease and content of laying himself bare without a second thought, or the pressure rising within her chest. Lowering her head, she dug her fingers into her hair, curling them around the shafts, tugging hard. The pain was a brief relief, sharp and pointed; something to focus on than her whirling thoughts. Except for one, niggling at the back of her mind, roaring louder until she pinpointed Jazz’s voice:

Why is it so bad for James to know how you feel?

It wasn’t that. It was the after. What happens afterwards, what he would do, could do, with the feelings she gave for him on a platter. And she hated it, the not knowing, not having control after the words left her mouth, having to just stand there and open up her chest and hope and pray he’d be delicate.

You don’t know anything about me, she’d always say, a perfect deflection to his inquiries on her constant rebuffs. Shorthand for what she really wanted to say: you don’t care. But he did, he proved it all day: he knew her hair schedule, he knew her hair was important enough to her to get her a cap she could wear, he knew her favorite ice cream choice, he knew her sandwich preferences, he put aside his goal to check on her well-being, he prepared her favorite snacks when he knew she’d be alone. Even if it came with a string attached, he thought about it, thought about her. She rejected it but it didn’t stop him from laying it all out there, from going after what he wanted, from trying again and again and again, diving in with both feet without apologizing for it, without apologizing for feeling and being.

That’s truly why she hated the occasion, Valentine’s Day, because it gave everyone else the courage to be raw, be real, and she couldn’t manage it.

But as she sat there, simmering in James’s admission, wondering how someone like him could think he was a joke for allowing himself to be hopeful, she still admired him. How could she not? He was James Diamond, unapologetically.

“James.” She heard the shake in her voice and made herself remain steady, even as the bounce in her leg increased. He looked at her, face so open. Her heart sighed. “…I sent the plant.”

He didn’t react right away, just stared at her, hazel eyes meeting russet. She clasped her hands, bringing them up to her mouth, biting down on both thumb nails. He blinked, sucked in a breath, and slowly leaned back until he stood tall.

“…You’re my secret admirer.”

Mickey leaned back, dropping her hands into her lap, skin lightening beneath her hard grip. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She let out a little laugh, sheepish and incredulous combined. Because she was a jerk? Because she was an idiot. Because she was scared. All of the above? “Because I was the only person you didn’t ask, dummy!”

James blinked. “Oh.” He looked at the plant, at her, back at the plant, and got the note out of his pocket. His thumbs smoothed out the creased and bent cardstock and then held it out to her. She took it and put it aside; she didn’t need to read it. She had the words memorized; she’d agonized over what to add for days until she came up with the finished product. She didn’t care about that, she cared about now, what he would do now. As his lips parted, ready to speak again, she forced herself to stay put. All instincts told her to run, to hide, she still had time to save herself. She stayed still. “I guess…I didn’t think to ask. I mean, I never thought you’d…admire me.” He said the last part slowly, as if testing the weight of the words on his tongue.

Her shoulders sagged with her accompanying sigh. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. She tugged on the ends of her hair, pulling from mid-length down to the ends, over and over, avoiding his eyes. “James…I-I admire a lot about you. I don’t know how people can’t. I mean you…you have this drive that I’ve never seen in anyone before. And you have so much passion behind it. Even with Gustavo being hard on you lately, you still come back the next day ready to work with this…this fire. I’ve seen you go through so much and the whole time you’re…you’re you. You’re so comfortable being yourself, wholly, fully, and you don’t feel the need to apologize for it. I wish I was like that sometimes.”

“Oh.” He sure liked that word.

Head tilted downwards, she still stroked her hair, but peeked up at him. His eyes had widened and something in his face stilled. Did she say something wrong? God, this was why she didn’t do things like this, didn’t put herself out there. Crap, she messed everything up! The paralyzing hold on her eased, allowing a painful stab to hit her right in chest. She swiveled her hips to the side, turning the stool top, ready to jump down.

“Hold on.” James reached out, hand resting on her shoulder. She stopped, held her breath, and watched with crinkled brows when he walked stiffly to the bathroom and closed the door. What the…? Her eyebrows bunched even further at the flurry of movement on the other side of the door. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see him flailing. The door swung open and James walked back out calmly, cheeks reddened.

Her eyes ping-ponged between him and the bathroom. She was almost afraid to ask. “Did…did you just do a happy dance?”

“What? Me? No! Of course not!” James scoffed, waving his hand in the air, failing at keeping the smile off his flushed face. “Can I give you your gift now?” His words collided in a rushed slur.

She blinked, jarred from the conversation whiplash. Oh. Oh. She thought…And to be sure she glanced over her shoulder where the indoor picnic had been left. “Was that not…?”

“No. I got you something else.” His long fingers gripped the countertop; he practically vibrated.

“Ok…ay.” This…was not what was supposed to happen. Was it?

James scurried off to the bedrooms and Mickey prepared herself for the usual gifts she received on such occasion, a card or oven mitts or an apron with Mickey Mouse decorated all over it because, well, it was obvious. Her name and her hobby in the same, how original! But she’d mastered the pleased smile years ago. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the gifts, clearly the thought was behind it and that’s what counted, but sometimes she wished people didn’t go for something so easy.

When James came back carrying…some white structure, which at first glanced looked like a miniature shelf, she didn’t know what to do with her face. She bet she looked half constipated and half bewildered. How attractive!

“Um…”

“It’s an indoor herb garden,” he supplied, filling in the large blank in her head. She gaped, heart thudding a steady rhythm against her ribcage. “You always said you were upset Kelly’s apartment didn’t have a place for you to grow stuff. Now you can. Look!” He turned the box around and pointed to a list in small print. “It comes with spices too. It has basil, parsley, oregano, rosemary, thyme, and mint.”

A low buzzing sounded in her ears. It took her time to place it, that thrumming content. But when she did it amplified, an electric current running through her, so palpable that when their fingers brushed as she accepted the box, sparks popped at her fingertips. “Thank you.” It was soft and tender; all she could manage while trying to contain herself.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

Like wasn’t the right word but she wasn’t ready for that, nowhere near it. Hugging the box to her chest, she chanced a glance at him. “What happens now?” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out so suddenly, but she had to know. Needed to know. “I’ve never…I mean, this thing…” Words failed her. Instead, she dragged a finger in the space between them.

Luckily, James caught on. “Neither have I,” he admitted. “But I want to try. I like you.”

A buzz thrummed within her at his directness. “I don’t get why considering I’ve been lying to you all day.” In fact, he was strangely…calm about it. Why wasn’t he angry with her?

“Well, yeah, that part kind of stinks,” he admitted, head bobbing from side to side, “but, the way I choose to look at it, you also went along with me all day when you could have left. Figured you have to like me a lot to go through all that trouble.” He paused and then his eyes widened.

Her pulse spiked. “What?”

“I just realized: this whole time, you were trying to keep people away because you want me all to yourself!” The swagger came back when he reached out tapped the tip of her nose; she almost missed it. “Not that I blame you.” Pointing at himself he added, “I wouldn’t want to give this away either.”

James’s beaming smile returned, eyes sparkling as if diamonds nestled within.

A wild sensation hit her at the sight of it: a sort of breathless elation, like climbing to the top of a mountain, being caressed by gentle winds only to sink into the crackling livewire of being so alive.

Mickey’s mouth opened and closed a few times, attempting to make words. Defeated, she pressed her lips together and rolled her eyes, her lips curling up into an unrestrained smile.

--------

“So?”

Mickey lifted her head from the sink; droplets of water rolled down her cheeks and curled beneath her chin. She dapped at her face with the hand towel nearby, set it aside, and turned to see Jazz leaning in the bathroom doorway, grinning from ear to ear. “So what?” she asked.

“You know what.” Her grin grew. “How did things with you and James end up? You didn’t say anything when Kendall and I came back to the apartment and you didn’t say anything on the bus ride back here. I want details. Spill.”

Mickey’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as she mulled it over. Jazz crossed her arms over her Richmond Braves pajama shirt. Mickey’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, stopping only when her phone vibrated in the pocket of her lounge pants. Holding up a finger, she removed it only to experience a flutter in her stomach at the sight of James’s name on her screen next to the blinking text icon. With a swipe of her thumb, she opened the text.

James: See you at the studio tomorrow! Mickey: I’ll be the chick with the bass behind ya

“I’ll tell you after Kelly gets back,” Mickey said. At Jazz’s annoyed sigh she added, “Look, I don’t want to tell the story three times.” Reaching over, she flipped off the light to the bathroom and brushed past her, running to jump on her bed. Jazz landed next to her a second later, cuddling a large stuffed teddy bear to her chest. On the other side of the room Sammi and Mel crowded onto Sammi’s bed. Sammi’s fingers deftly twisted through the braids in Mel’s hair, adding new length with the fresh purple extensions. Mel carefully lifted a forkful of strawberry rhubarb pie to her mouth, balancing the plate on her knee. “Besides, I want to know who her super-secret date was.”

“It’s Gustavo. We all know it was Gustavo,” Jazz insisted.

“Yeah right,” Sammi said with a shake of her head; her new clover earrings shook with each turn of her head. “That’ll never happen.”

“It could!”

Mel grabbed a pillow off Sammi’s bed and threw it at Jazz, nailing her in the face. Beneath their laughter, Mickey snuck a look at her phone again. James had texted twice, one with a smiley face and another with a video attachment. She tapped her thumb against the screen. The video pulled up, filling the screen, and in seconds she watched a mirror shot of him dancing and celebrating in the bathroom.

She grinned.

The smug jerk.

#james diamond #mickey mason #mickames #big time rush #big time rush fanfic #big time rush fic #kendall knight #jazz mason #i have no idea how this show went on for four seasons and never did a valentine's day episode #i'm here to fix that to a degree #also james gets some depth because the show didn't want him to be deeper than a puddle and i need to fix that too #big time admirer #my writings #angst tw #social anxiety tw #disordered eating tw #envy tw #self loathing tw

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angstyaches · 3 years

Note

Oooh, could you possibly do "Have you eaten today?" for the prompt meme?

Thank you for this, anon! (Sorry it took so long, *gulp*.) This is while Shayne’s at the Aldridge townhouse, still settling in and getting to know Felix.

I HAVE written the conversation Shayne has with Ryan. Please let me know if you’re interested in seeing that posted soon!

CW: hunger, disordered eating, past trauma, food issues, angst.

When to stop talking, and when to start

(Three Boys in a Townhouse)

Shayne stopped at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing at his eyes and shivering. He’d only come down for some water, but now it seemed he was having auditory hallucinations. The TV in the front room of the Devine’s mansion had never worked, but there was a low hum of unfamiliar voices and applause and music leaking from the direction of the front room, and –

He looked around as he took his hands away from his eyes. The hallway walls were painted crisp white, lit only by a boxy white lamp on an iron dresser; if he were back with the Devines, he’d be looking at Madelyn’s antique display cabinet against a burgundy wall, lit by a handful of candles, if lit at all. But he was miles away, in the Aldridge townhouse.

A low groan of confusion escaped from deep in his chest. He was dizzy and a bit nauseous, now that he took a moment to check in with himself. He rubbed half-consciously at a dull ache in his belly, stopping himself when he realised someone could come into the hallway and see him at any time.

You think your petty ailments matter in the grand scheme of things? The sound of Madelyn’s voice was as clear in his head as it had been in whatever dream had disoriented him. Shayne cleared his throat and tried to look more alive than he felt as he turned left at the end of the stairs, towards the kitchen.

He wasn’t sure if it was the solid day of study or the intense twenty-minute nap he’d just woken up from, but something had seriously messed up his head, along with his body. He felt like he was either going to retch or feel his knees buckle under him at any second, and he just wanted to grab a drink quickly, and get back upstairs before he bumped into Elliott, or Nancy, or Ryan, or especially –

“Oh, hey, Shayne!”

The kitchen was as monochromatic as every other room in the house, with white lighting that was almost offensive. Shayne wasn’t used to seeing the corners of furniture, the details in floor and wall tiles, so clearly. It was like an assault on his senses and didn’t help with the queasy ache in his stomach.

He blinked at the sight of Felix, and again at the smell of food cooking. It must have been earlier in the evening than he’d thought. The air was mostly full of the smell of hot oil, and a lot of steam that was coming from a stocky white contraption next to the microwave.

Felix had been standing near the white appliance and checking his phone, but had looked up at the sudden movement in the doorway.

“Evening,” he said, a soft smile splitting his face.

“Hey,” Shayne said, unable to suppress a shiver. He hadn’t realised just how cold he was until he felt the warmth in the air from food being cooked. He shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing the kitchen had been empty. “Sorry, I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Aw, buddy, you can be in my way all you like.” Felix laid his phone down on the countertop and casually folded his arms. “We nearly straight-up forgot you were in the house. You’ve been revising all day?”

“Pretty much.” Shayne felt Felix watching him as he took down a glass and went to fill it up from the sink. He took a few sips to try to calm the weird shakiness, but the sensation of the cold liquid running down made him shiver again.

“Yeah, its chilly tonight,” Felix said, as though agreeing with something Shayne had said aloud. “Elli and I have got a fire going in the front room. You could bring your books downstairs and study down here, unless the TV would be too distracting.”

Shayne took another sip of water, his hand weirdly unsteady, as he considered the offer. Being near a fire sounded nice, but it wasn’t the TV he was most concerned about being in a room with. Elliott had seemed so cold the past few days, and Shayne didn’t know how to deal with him. Another reason he’d been basically isolating himself in his room.

“I know it probably seems like he’s annoyed and doesn’t want to see you,” Felix admitted, as though he’d somehow read Shayne’s mind. “But Elliott’s just – he’s reluctant to make the first move, after everything. He can be stubborn as hell sometimes. I guess you’ve got that in common, and that’s why you clash horns so often.”

Shayne lifted his head in surprise, the shakiness in his bones suddenly feeding into panicked defensiveness. “I’m not stubborn. Am I?”

“Um, of course not. What was I thinking?” Felix visibly chewed his lip and turned his gaze away. “I think I know the answer to this, bud, but have you eaten today?”

Shayne shook his head slightly. He hadn’t, but he was fine with that. He didn’t want to ask anything of the Aldridges, aside from the space he’d been given to use. Space couldn’t be used up; he could leave the bedroom in the exact same state he’d found it in. It’d be like he was never there, eventually, and he wouldn’t have to feel that he owed them anything.

He’d been feeling so sick and stressed that the thought of food genuinely wasn’t appealing anyway; in fact, the lack of food in his system should have reduced the nausea that had been coming and going since he’d arrived at the townhouse, but somehow it hadn’t.

“You know you…” Felix grimaced and trailed off, seeming unsure of whether he was supposed to laugh now or not.

Shayne gulped against a swelling sensation in his chest. The flash of sympathy he’d just seen in Felix’s eyes reminded him way too much of Charlie’s questions, Charlie’s attempts to feed him, Charlie’s soft expression as he tried to understand. The hollow ache in the pit of his stomach seemed to sharpen slightly; damn it, he’d almost lasted the whole day without letting himself dwell on Charlie…

“You know you’re allowed to eat, right?” Felix finally finished, lowering his voice. “The kitchen’s not just here for show.”

“I – yeah, I know,” he tried to say matter-of-factly. His hands burrowed into the pockets of his jeans and his shoulders tensed so suddenly that they ached.

“You can eat with us in a little while, if you’re hungry,” Felix offered.

Eating with Felix and Elliott. Eating with two whole people; being near them while he put food in his mouth and chewed it up and swallowed it. One person he barely knew and didn’t know how to act around, and one person who pretty thought he was a psychopath. The whole thing sounded like a horror movie scenario.

“Thanks,” he said flatly, gulping against the fear gurgling up the back of his throat. “I’m not hungry.”

“That’s a shame, it’s just – I forgot that Nancy would be out tonight,” Felix went on, glancing towards the white appliance, which was expelling a lot less steam than it had been before, “so I’ve actually made more than enough for the three of us, especially since Elli eats so little nowadays. I always overestimate how much rice I need to make.”

Shayne lowered his gaze again at the mention of Elliott’s name, but looked up again at the white appliance on the countertop. “That thing is for rice?”

“Oh – yeah, you’ve never seen one of these?” Felix’s eyes lit up a little as he looked at the machine too. “It makes the rice come out sooo soft and fluffy, you have no idea. I fried some chicken earlier to go with it.”

Shayne suddenly recognised the sharp ache that had crept down under his ribs and seemed to have wrapped itself around his insides. He moved a hand from the pocket of his jeans and into the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing – Charlie’s – so he could put a little pressure on his stomach.

“My friend Kazu’s older sister taught me how to fry chicken. It’s called karaage in Japanese,” Felix was continuing. “I definitely don’t do it justice, but I like to think I’ve perfected it in my own way over the years. The coating is just slightly crispy, and the chicken stays juicy on the inside. It goes so well with the rice.”

Shayne held his breath and stared at the black and white floor tiles. He really wanted to think of something to say as he felt his stomach start to cramp.

He wanted words to come out of his mouth and distract from what he knew was coming, but his mind went completely blank except for the hot sting of embarrassment.

The deep, traitorous rumble started under his ribs, and even when he pressed his hand a little harder against his belly, the sound still swelled. The pain twisted deeper into his stomach too, making it hard not to wince.

“Are you okay?” Felix asked quietly, after letting a couple of seconds of silence pass over.

Shayne glanced up, his skin still feeling hot with shame at being caught, not only in the lie about not being hungry, but also in this state of needing something. Felix’s easy smile made the tension in his shoulders loosen slightly.

“How about I put some food aside for you to take up to your room?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Shayne said quickly, scratching at his neck. Despite everything, he had to admit to himself that he felt a bit… relieved, at the thought of being able to eat alone.

“I do, actually.” Felix pointed to his own ears. “Even half-vamps have heightened senses, buddy. Elli and I won’t get any sleep if your stomach’s gonna growl like that all night.”

The humiliation clawed at Shayne’s skin like a physical thing, so overpowering that he thought he was going to finally retch. Madelyn’s voice played over his own thoughts again, her tone so sharp it made him jump on the spot.

If you love making stuff disappear down that throat of yours so much, why don’t you make yourself useful and make sure it’s a demon? Instead of wasting actual food and making a pathetic weakling of yourself –

“I’m kidding, bud.” Felix leaned his elbows on the island in the middle of the kitchen and tilted his head to smile up at him. “Hey, I’m really sorry. Okay? I’m – I’m just an idiot over here, not knowing when to stop talking...”

The end of Felix’s sentence melted off into a chuckle, though it sounded off. Heavy. It didn’t sound like Felix. Shayne’s shoulders tensed again as he realised it was his fault. If he could figure out when to start talking, maybe people wouldn’t get so uncomfortable around him.

His belly started to growl again, though this time he just placed his hand over it, feeling a bit defeated. Felix’s gaze flicked up and he gave Shayne a weak half-smile.

“If I leave food for you, will you eat it?”

Shayne tried to make himself nod, but when he finally managed to, he also found that tears had sprung to his eyes. He gulped and fought them back, but couldn’t stop his hands from shaking; though he was no longer sure if it was from emotion, or the cold, or the hunger that was clearly sapping his energy. He folded his arms tightly across his middle and stared at the floor tiles again.

“You should...” Felix trailed off, and didn’t start again until Shayne reluctantly met his gaze. “You should talk to Ryan about - about whatever. She acts a bit like a robot, but she’s understanding, and - well, she’s good at fixing problems.”

Shayne nodded wordlessly, curling his arms a little tighter against his stomach as another noisy vibration began. He let himself let out a small groan this time, reckoning it was better than awkward silence.

“I’ll leave yours in the microwave,” Felix said, standing up from where he’d been leaning over the countertop. “You can go, if you don’t want to be here when Elliott comes out.”

Shayne glanced towards the kitchen door, already feeling a little anxious at the thought of seeing Elliott. But like Felix had said, Elliott probably wasn’t going to make the first move, so maybe... maybe Shayne had to.

“It’s okay, I’ll wait,” he said, swallowing hard as he met Felix’s gaze again. “Do, um, do you need help with anything?”

#hunger #hunger fic #swallow the world #three boys in a townhouse #shayne #felix #food #prompt #stomach growls #disordered eating #angst

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shylemon0 · 4 years

Text

Bakugou x Autistic! Reader (pt.3)

This is a story I made up in my head while trying to sleep months ago, thought it’d be cool to write it down :) This will be a male reader because I feel more comfortable with it, sorry!

(Pt.1)

(Pt.2)

@plaguedoctorsnake

(I’m really bad at writing fight scenes sorry!)

Warning: Swearing, Blood, Meltdowns, Fighting And Sad?

(The reader is Aizawa’s adoptive son)

It’s been a year since Y/N “died” on live television and someone new has been seen with the league.

—————————————————————————————————

Reader’s POV

It’s been a year since it all happened

....

A year ago a part of me died.. well-

Technically not but everyone else think so

Well everyone on UA and the heroes that is, I’ve been living with the league all this time and I feel pretty happy and safe, it’s like I have a huge family.

They even helped me with my quirk, they sent me to their doctor and put me into a coma I think so that they could do something to help me control my quirk better so I won’t be afraid to use it anymore and I’ve kinda joined the league now, except I don’t exactly hurt anyone, let’s just say that I’m more here to distract the people they’re fighting.

Now you’re probably wondering what is my quirk well it’s...

Name: Energy

It’s basically telekinesis and can be used as just that but i can do a few more things then just that, I can take the energy around me and kinda explode it out of me when I’ve gotten enough, I can also take my own energy to heal people

When I use it my eyes turn white and the wind starts to move around me

Pros: kinda op, healing and moves really fast Cons: very destructive, can’t control if used too long, passes out when the body can’t handle it anymore and may cause death

——— Today we’re going on a important mission and I’m kinda nervous because I have to use my quirk a lot more but I’ll be fine, right?

“hey Y/N! are you ready for the mission?” Toga asked as she was walking towards me with something in her hands, “Yeah I think so” i said as I stared at the ground while hitting the side of my right leg “you sure?” She said as she made me look up “Yeah I’m just stressed, what if I do something wrong and I end up hurting someone- oh no I don’t think I can do this-” I started to ramble as she took me into a tight hug and said “hey now you’ll be fine, if you feel like you don’t want to be there anymore I’ll take you right back here, okay?” she smiled “okay but what about shigaraki he said he needed my quirk for this mission” Toga hummed and said “ im sure he’ll understand, now take this we have to leave in 30 minutes” and then she left.

I stood there looking at what she gave me, a black surgical mask and my dark orange hoodie, I walked into my room and put it on as I tried to calm myself down so I wouldn’t have a meltdown,

I walked to my bed and took the photo under my pillow and my headphones as I played my comfort song and looked at the picture of bakugou as I started to think about all the times he used to hold me as I cried or couldn’t sleep, After a while I calmed down and put the stuff back and walked out to the rest of the league.

“It’s time” said Dabi as Kurogiri made black fog and we walked through.

Bakugou’s POV

Today was the big fight, the villains planned something big and we found out about it so all the heroes are going to one spot with out them knowing a thing.

Today I finally could get my revenge

I’m going to fucking kill every last one of them if I have too...

———

I can see them as they walked out of the black fog, but they didn’t look shocked that we were here waiting for them, he fucking laughed.

The fight started fast, there where villains and heroes everywhere fighting for life and death and I only had one target and if anyone is going to stop me I’d blow their fucking head off.

I ran towards a villain and slammed him to the ground and blew him up as he tried to fight back, someone tried to drag me off them as I fought anyone who tried to stand in my way.

Reader’s POV

Toga and I got on top of a building as she said “okay you know the plan” and smiled as she started to attack the heroes.

I stood up and slammed my foot down as the building split in two and the ground shot up, my eyes started to glow as I ran on top of the building’s cracking it up as me feet hit the ground,

I jumped down from it hitting the ground making it shake an crack around me, I jumped again up towards the sky as energy shot out of my body taking down the building’s around me.

I started to lose control as my body twitches and shoots out more energy making me get higher and higher up towards the sky, I could feel my nose starting to bleed as my body glowed, blinding the heroes, it starts to hurt.

Everything hurts, if feels like my head is about to explode as I scream out in pain as tears streams down my face and another energy boost shoots out of me and I finally pass out.

—

Toga’s POV

‘Holy crap Y/N’s quirk really got out off control’ I thought before I saw Y/N falling hundred of feet down unconscious and his mask is damaged letting anyone seeing his face, “DABI! CATCH Y/N!” I yelled at the top of my lungs as I try to stab the person I’m fighting.

Dabi looked towards Y/N and locked shocked as he started to run shooting fire out of his hands to boost himself forward.

Bakugou’s POV

There I saw the unknown member of the league falling from the sky..

It was Y/N..

‘How! He’s dead how is he there’ I thought as I froze in place

I saw Dabi running towards my Y/N catching him before he hit the ground, he ran off with him in his arms and I just stood there I was in shock

“My Y/N is alive” I said in a broken voice looking towards aizawa with wide eyes who clearly saw Y/N too but couldn’t move either, after a few seconds I could move again as I tried to catch up to Dabi.

Reader’s POV

I woke up to Dabi wiping my bloody nose, “what happened?” I said as he looked down at me “your quirk got out of control and you passed out” he said as he helped me sit up “if you feel any better you can go back with me but you don’t need to” he continued, “I think I feel ok, I’ll come with you” I said as I went and got a new mask and walked through the black fog again.

“you feeling alright kid?” Shigaraki asked as he saw me “Yeah” I said as I went back to distract the heroes with my quirk.

———

Toga’s hurt and someone’s trying to kill her, I ran over to them and tackled the ‘hero’ and knocked them out as I got to toga, something behind me exploded or more like someone exploded, I turned around to see what happened...

And there he was.

“Bakugou..?” I whispered with wide eyes, it seems like toga heard what I said as she pulled me away trying to calm me down.

I was shaking as tears stream down my face again “this was a bad idea- why am I here? I’m just causing trouble, I should leave” I said to toga “ hey- hey It’s okay, I’ll take you back you did a great job today” as we tried to go back as fast as possible.

We were right in front of the back fog as someone grabbed my arm and dragged me out of toga’s hands, and it all went dark again.

Toga’s POV

“I WONT LET YOU TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME AGAIN!” Yelled bakugou before he took Y/N from my hands and knocking him out, “oh but he won’t like being with you anyways, you see we’ve been saying somethings that made him unsure of you and all the ‘heros’ so if you’ll be nice and give him back I won’t make him hate you” said with venom in my voice and giggled.

But the stubborn asshat wouldn’t do as i said and tried to shoot an explosion in my face, as I dodged it I sprinted after him “HE GOT Y/N!” I yelled so the rest of the league would help, but before we could get him he was gone.

‘No! He took him, what am I going to to say to shigaraki..’ I thought as some idiot got me pinned down on the ground.

Bakugou’s POV

I held him as tight as possible because I couldn’t believe I was holding him in my arm again, I looked up towards aizawa who was sitting on a building he nodded as I went back to UA.

Time skip (The UA Dorms)

I laid Y/N down on my bed and I took of my hero outfit off and now I sat down waiting for my Y/N to wake up.

———

Time skip (again cuz I’m getting more lazy)

I was asleep when I herd a yelp of surprise, I quickly opened my eyes and there I saw him awake but he looked terrified as he hid under the covers “Y/N it’s alright, please don’t be afraid” I said in the softest voice I probably could make as I put my hand out for him

He leaped towards me into a hug as he cried “Im so sorry!” He continued to cry onto my shoulder “i didn’t want this to happen! I’ve missed you so much” he continued as I was kind of in shock again, eventually I hugged back as tight as I possibly could to let him know I wasn’t going to disappear.

I lifted him up into my bed and laid down with him holding him letting him cry against my chest as I hummed his favorite song to calm him down.

I finally have him in my arms again

I won’t let anyone take him away from me again

“i love you” I whispered to him as he was sound asleep in my arms

“i love you too” he whispered back in his sleep, as he said that a few tears of joy appeared in my eyes as I closed them an nuzzled into my boyfriend’s neck.

And then I fell asleep the happiest I’ve been in a year.

——— This is as far I went with the story in my head, I might continue later on but that might take months, now I hope you enjoyed this fanfic :D

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estrxlar · 3 years

Text

The Ghost Of You

02 - Growth

Chapters songs:

Peach Fuzz: Tyler The Creator

Nice Boys: TEMPOREX

Money: The Drums

— Y. L. Perspective

I walk into the lunchroom empty-handed and nervous. Like the idiotic person I am, I had forgotten my bento on the bus and surely couldn't depend on any of the students to possibly find it and give it back to me.

And so, I begin searching for my fellow third-year friends. It was hard due to the countless students looking for their friends to discuss a simple ten-day break, which I didn't get why it was such a big deal. But it wasn't like I could relate in any way, I had three measly friends who spent every hour of the day with me.

Suddenly, an underclassman boy decided to run across my path hastily, causing me to trip over his shoes, and fall onto the ground.

"What're you doing on the floor, Y/n?" A strong hand reaches to my face, waiting for approval to lift me. His blonde hair shuffles between his free hand.

"Thanks, Toruku," I say, pleased I found 1/3.

He pulled me up and assembled a smile onto his pale face. "No problem. Mind helping me find Giki and Hikishi?" He asks as I dust off my fingers. "The bell is bound to ring soon, so we'll be able to get lunch then. But not if we don't find them."

"Yeah, that's what I've been doing for the past five minutes," I say, with a slightly worried tone. I wasn't trying to spend my entire lunch looking for a place for us to sit. "How about we split up? I'll find us a table, and you find them?"

"No need. We're already here!" Says my black-haired friend, Giki, who stood next to Hikishi.

"Finally, now can we go eat? I wanna catch the lunch line before it gets full." Before another voice calls for me. I sharply turn around, ready for the confrontation.

"Yes?— oh!" My eyes widen at Suga, who plastered a worried expression onto his face.

"Sorry to interrupt you, it's just, you left your lunch on the bus. I came to return it to you." He explains, holding his hand out for me to take the item. It looked just as before; a little scraped and worn out, but still the same.

"..really? Wow, thank you." I take it back, looking back up at him. "It means a lot. I was about to die of hunger. Plus, I've had that since middle school."

"Y-Yeah! Of course. I couldn't just leave it there." Sugawara brushes his hands together, still mumbling something to me. But my eyes were focused on the box, feeling the warmth of his hands that still lingered. "But it's no problem!"

Then, I had remembered the entire reason I rushed out of the bus. Bearing another moment around him after sleeping on him would have killed me. "Listen, about this morning. I'm really sorry, I was really tired this morning. I never meant to invade your space or anything—"

"Oh, about that!" He suddenly interrupted, eager to go into the conversation. "There's no need to apologize for it. I'm actually kind of used to it, since I go on a lot of road trips with the volleyball team, we get pretty tired after games. Not that it relates or anything! But you seemed pretty embarrassed. I wish we could have talked more."

"I'm sorry, I really am. I was just in a rush, it's not something you should stress about." I explain to Sugawara, as he shifts from one foot to the other.

"Of course, if you'd like to talk more then... I guess we could. It has been quite a while, I'm still a bit curious to learn more about you." He replies, looking down in a bashful way. It surprised me such a social, popular, and beautiful guy like Sugawara would want to talk to me out of all people.

"...I don't mind. Although, it confuses me why you'd want to." I laugh, placing my hands into the pockets of my uniform.

"Why wouldn't I? We used to be good friends!" He smiles at me brightly, as he continues. "Besides that, I'm interested in what you do. Music, I mean—"

"Ahem!" Toruku interrupts with the clearing of his throat, leaning over my shoulders while side eying me. "If you don't mind, could we go eat now? We've all had a long day."

"Oh!" Suga is brought out of his concentration on our conversation. "Sorry! How inconsiderate of me to keep your friend stuck talking to me!"

My hand gently pushes away his face, and my eyes look back at Suga's. "If my buddies don't mind, we can teach you all about that." I turn to the three students that stood behind me wide-eyed. "It's okay, right?"

They straightforwardly shrug, meanwhile, Toruku looks grim. "Yeah, it's fine."

"A-Are you sure? I feel like I'd be intruding on something!" Sugawara says, worried my friends wouldn't be very accepting of him. But truth was, we saw each other more than we saw our parents, so thirty minutes with an additional person wouldn't be too much of a problem.

"It's alright," Giki says, meanwhile we walk towards an empty table near the stage. Sugawara's feet stutter, contemplating whether or not to go along with a couple of social rejects.

"If you don't want to, that's fine too. Just don't hold us up." I grin, looking over my shoulder at his confused look. "Hurry, Sugawara!"

"Oh, alright then," he mumbles, following the rest of us.

After stealing ourselves, I let out a big yawn, opening what sat in my bento: white rice, pickled vegetables, and soba that I had microwaved this morning. "You're not having anything, Suga?" I question him, while the rest of my friends open their bentos as well.

"Oh, no thanks. I usually eat after school." He returned. But as if he were in mute, I start shuffling around my book bag to find something I might have. Finally, I find a simple orange: not too old and not too new.

"Here, eat this." I toss it to him, and he quickly catches it. "I keep extra good in case I get hungry. Plus, don't you do volleyball? You've gotta way to be strong!" I say in a raspy voice, mimicking a coach or older adult.

He giggles, and thanks me for the small gesture. Even if I'd just started talking to him again, it felt as if I was comfortable around him already, just like before.

"You do volleyball?" Toruku questions him, placing his feet onto the table. He laid back with his arms behind his head, and the collar of his uniform unbuttoned. He was trying to prove something to him.

"Sensei Tamaki is gonna yell at you again.." I sing, placing a lump of rice into my mouth. The rest of them agree, and Suga just giggles while peeling his orange.

Suga nods at him, giving him a light smile. "Yes, I'm a setter. I coordinate the attacks and basically everything else."

"Oh..?" Giki, Hikishi, and blondie all utter confused at the new term. Thankfully, I had the slightest experience in volleyball, which meant I could explain to them.

"Being a setter means you're like the control tower of the team. Like Giki; without her drums, there wouldn't be a steady beat to a song. Or take Hikishi; the base is what makes a base tune. That's the best I can explain in your language." I explain, looking to Suga for any corrections.

"That's right, yeah. How'd you know?" He leans on his arm.

"I may not look like it but I used to play back in middle school. But really, I just played because of my friend group. All of them were the athlete type." I reply to him, meanwhile eating before loudly being interrupted.

"TORUKU AIZAWA!" The expected teacher yells at him, pulling many people's attention. "I WILL NOT START WITH YOU THIS SCHOOL YEAR! FEET OFF THE TABLE..!"

"Okay, okay!" He rolls his eyes, placing them back onto the floor, and crosses his arms. "That old hag.."

Suga laughs softly. His hand crept around the fruit, peeling it as he discussed more. The only thing that was embarrassing was that his words spoke about me. "So, I've heard Y/n is really talented. You know, I would have figured that out if she wasn't so introverted as a first-year."

Hikishi makes a small noise of agreement, before sealing their food, and responding. "Oh, yes. Y/n his her vocal skills from us for quite a while before we brought her out of her shell. Not only that, but she's really good at guitar. Ever heard her?"

Sugawara shakes his head, looking back at me. "No, but I'd love to hear! I understand she's quite angelic."

"I— Uhm, no!" I smile sarcastically, leaning over the table to stuff a piece of chicken in Hikishi's mouth. "Now you be quiet!"

Sugas head perks up, as he begins, "So are you guys signed? Better yet, do you have a band name?" He questions, leaning on his hand while he talks.

"Grimlace." Giki responds, resting her head on her folded arms. Why was he so invested in this conversation? Hell if I knew.

Still, it seemed they had no problem with meeting Sugawara. Well, except for Toruku. But he was always suspicious of any boy I was comfortable with that wasn't him.

While he discussed with my cremates about different subjects on music, I quietly ate my food, observing Sugawara while he had absolutely no idea.

When he was fifteen, I remember loathing the first few moments around him. He'd only ever talk and have energy inside him, like a living Red Bull bottle with an extra shot of caffeine. Of course, the next few times I saw him I'd already gotten used to him and his tiny crush on me. His aura was what inspired me to rebuild myself. Sad thing was that when I was done grieving, he had just begun.

I heard that one of his parents had passed away and that it was a big impact on him. I couldn't even imagine losing one of my parents, even if they hardly even raised me. How I wish I could go back to last year, and find him again, meanwhile searching for the old him. But it seemed that the agony that weighed his kind soul was light, and once again, I met fifteen-year-old Sugawara and that bright smile of his.

—

"It was fun talking to you all. It's not always that I get to converse with such a different group than what I've known." Sugawara mentions as he stands up from the lunch chair, along with the rest of us. "You all must know Karasuno isn't a very divergent school."

"Ah yes, we're aware," Toruku says, slinging his shoulder bag where it belongs. "It was nice talking to you as well, but we've outta get going now. Have a good one, Sugawara!"

"Hey," I say, drawing his attention back towards me. "I might stay a little bit late after school. If—..if you've got practice today maybe you can help me get back to the neighborhood." I silently prayed he didn't catch my stutter. "It'll be pretty dark, wouldn't want me to get lost, now would you?"

Shortly after, he replies, "Why, of course. Although, practice usually ends around five to six. Mind if I swing by once it's done, that way I can wait for you?"

Hikishi quickly swung an arm around my shoulder, and smiles at the grey-haired boy."That would be great! Maybe our Y/n can play a little something for you since you're so invested in her. Isn't that right, Y/n— ow!" He yelps at the harsh pinch of my fingers on his face. I sharply turn once more, bowing to Suga.

"Thank you. We'll be in music room 3007. Though I doubt I'll make a fool out of myself and perform for you," I say, as a small laugh leaves my lips. "I'll see you then."

"Got it, have yourself a good day."

"Yeah, you as well."

—-

Hello folks! Thanks for coming back to read. I really appreciate it! Please vote for my chapters, I work very hard on them and would love some love :) make sure to get good rest and drink lots of water. Love you♥️♥️

- Sugawara's beauty mark☆

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virtueangel · 3 years

Text

limitless.

chapter fourteen.

wc: 2,345. original publish date: october 30, 2020.

Van Gogh wakes up with the comforter tucked around his shoulders, one arm bent underneath his pillow, his fiery red hair spilling out from his head. He blinks against the white light, rubbing his eyes into focus. He's alone in the bed, the covers on JFK's side folded over to expose his empty spot on the mattress.

"Jack?" Vincent asks. A couple seconds go by with no response. He sits up in bed, adjusting the bandages around his head. They'd come a bit loose in the night, probably from being nestled up so close to JFK. Van Gogh never knew he was such a protective sleeper -- he vaguely remembers clinging onto the taller boy, his hands wrapped around JFK's arm and his fingernails digging into his skin defensively. "Jack, where are you?"

Panic starts to build in Vincent's stomach when he doesn't get an answer. The ripping heat climbs up his neck, stealing his breath away. He rolls out of bed, throwing the covers over until the mattress is just an exposed sheet and some strewn-about pillows.

He hops down the stairs, the hardwood cool against the bottoms of his bare feet. "Jack?"

Van Gogh runs through the sitting room and then the living room, and finally through the archway to the kitchen. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees JFK standing at the pantry.

"Oh, you're awake," John smiles.

Vincent can't help but smile back. "I didn't know you were a morning person."

JFK shrugs. "I go to bed late and wake up early. The sacrifice is that I don't get enough sleep."

Van Gogh crosses the kitchen to stand next to Kennedy, peering into the pantry from around his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

JFK stops, holding a can of tomato sauce in either hand. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cleaning out the pantry."

"All of that stuff is expired."

"Exactly why I'm cleaning it out."

Vincent turns around and nods toward the kitchen table. The taper candles are gone, but they've been replaced by a large wicker picnic basket. "Are we going for a picnic?"

John grins. "Yes."

Van Gogh turns back to the boy. "Kennedy, don't play."

JFK shakes his head. "I'm not playing!"

"We can't have a picnic in Marshtown. Have you seen the weather?"

Kennedy laughs. "That's why we're leaving Marshtown."

Van Gogh shakes his head, folding his arms across his chest. "No. I told you, I don't want to leave!"

JFK places the cans of tomato sauce back on the shelf in the pantry. He turns to Vincent and puts a hand on either shoulder. He looks into the boy's deep brown eyes, his face relaxing. "We're just going out for the day, Vinny. I promise. We'll be back."

Vincent waits for a second before dropping his arms to his sides and softening his glare. "You promise, huh?"

John nods. "Yes. I promise."

Van Gogh sighs, thinking over the boy's proposal. He looks past JFK to the picnic basket. "You found all that food in here?"

Kennedy nods. "Yeah. It's mostly preservatives, like honey and jam. We'll need to get some bread, though."

Vincent twists his lips pensively. "Well, I guess we'll need to go back out into town for that anyway..."

JFK's face lights up with a grin. "So... yes?"

Van Gogh smiles. "Yes."

***

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Van Gogh asks, an eyebrow raised. He and JFK are sitting side by side in the red convertible, their matching orange and white Clone High letterman jackets zipped up to their chins. The sleeves on Van Gogh's are too long, which he's grateful for right now because he can ball his hands up in the extra fabric. His fingertips are always freezing. No one has ever been able to explain why.

"Yes! I have a GPS on my phone," JFK reassures his boyfriend.

Vincent stares out the windshield. The fog has lifted now that they're out of Marshtown. The roads are made of soft black asphalt, and there are lively plants sprouting out of vibrantly green grass on either side of the street. "I thought we weren't going to use GPS for this trip."

"Yeah, but that was back when we didn't have a plan. We have one now. We're going to a grocery store, on purpose. But I won't use my phone to get us to the picnic location."

"You've already got one picked out?"

JFK laughs. "No. You overestimate my ability to plan."

Van Gogh laughs in return. "How silly of me."

Kennedy pulls into the parking lot of a Safeway before stopping the car and unbuckling.

"Wait," Vincent says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. The screen protector is surprisingly intact. "I made us a list."

Van Gogh opens his notes app and scrolls through it before landing his thumb on the grocery list. JFK peers over his shoulder, trying to read what the boy scrolled past, but Van Gogh snatches his phone away and turns his body so JFK can't see his screen. He clears his throat dramatically before reading out the list.

"One: bread. Two: orange juice. Three:-"

"Are you going to number each item?"

Vincent gives the boy a blank stare and continues. "Three: cream cheese. Four: bagels. Five:-"

"How long is your list?"

Van Gogh shushes the boy. "It'd be a lot shorter if you stopped interrupting."

Kennedy takes the phone out of Van Gogh's hand and begins scrolling through the list himself. Vincent reaches for the phone, but JFK holds him back with an arm as he reads. "Yeah, okay, this is fine. Twenty items shouldn't take us long if we split up."

Vincent's face falls. "I thought this was quality boyfriend time! Especially since you left me alone in bed this morning."

"You left me alone in bed last night! With your sneaking to the kitchen at three in the morning."

Van Gogh sighs. "Fine, then we'll call it even."

"You wanna stick together?" JFK asks, handing the phone back to Vincent.

Vincent grins. "Yes please."

Kennedy leans across the centre console to kiss the boy's forehead. "Whatever you want, Minivan."

"I still hate that nickname."

"But you don't hate me."

Van Gogh shrugs. "Maybe just a little bit," he says with a smile.

JFK pinches the boy's cheek. "That will go away, darling."

Vincent swats his hand away. "You're such a flirt!"

Kennedy grins. "I thought that was one of your reservations about me."

Van Gogh shrugs, busying himself by unbuckling his seatbelt. "Yeah, well. Evidently, it's also what sparked my interest in you."

JFK and Van Gogh get out of the car, slamming their doors behind them in unison. They walk up to the Safeway doors side by side, Vincent's hand fumbling for John's. He interlaces their fingers and Vincent smiles, previously feeling unsure about public displays of affection, especially as a gay couple. JFK's hand is warm against his, and his palm is rough, but in a comforting way. He's something tangible, something Van Gogh can hold to feel grounded.

"I'm really lucky, I think," Van Gogh says without realising he'd spoken aloud.

JFK smiles, blushing the slightest bit. "I think I'm the lucky one, Minivan."

The boys step into the grocery store, dropping hands awkwardly, overwhelmed by all the people inside. They've only been gone from Exclamation! for three days, but that's still a long time to be with only each other. Time feels skewed in Marshtown as well -- Van Gogh could swear they've been living there for a whole month already.

"Maybe we should split up. We'll get out of here a lot faster," Van Gogh suggests.

"So... you take the first ten items on the list, I'll take the last ten?" Kennedy suggests.

"Yeah... I'll send you the list so you don't have to memorise it." Van Gogh looks down at his phone, quickly sharing the note with the boy. A second later, JFK's phone chimes.

"I got it, thanks," he smiles before starting to walk away.

"Wait!" Van Gogh calls out. JFK freezes. "We should establish a meeting place."

John looks around the store, scrunching his nose up in thought. He points to the freezer aisle, right before the self-checkout counters. "How about right over there?"

Vincent follows the boy's finger. "Okay. See you in a couple minutes."

"See you in a couple minutes," JFK agrees.

***

Van Gogh and JFK sit on the grassy banks of a stream, the sun shining down on them through the trees. They've managed to find their own pocket in a forest, full of lavishly green grass and spritely flowers. They don't know where they are, but it must be far from Marshtown; April isn't winter here.

Van Gogh took the liberty of adding a few things to the shopping list, knowing JFK probably wouldn't have thought of them on his own. Now, Vincent spreads out a blue-and-white checkered picnic blanket for them to sit on. He crosses his legs and unties his shoes.

"No muddy feet on the cloth," he says simply to JFK when the boy gives him a look. Kennedy shrugs and unties his sneakers after sitting down, his sock feet clean against the blanket.

"We sure like the middle of nowhere, huh?" John says, spreading some strawberry jam on his bagel. It won't be as good toasted, but there aren't exactly any outlets around to plug a toaster into.

Van Gogh looks up from his own bagel, only half of it slathered in cream cheese. "We're making it the middle of somewhere."

"I don't know what that means."

Vincent smiles. "It means it's our world," he says, JFK's words warm on his tongue.

"What was it you said?" John says, setting his bagel down on a napkin and pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Plastic cups and napkins are also two of the items Van Gogh decided to pick off the shelves at the last minute. "'It's our rollercoaster, and we get to build the track?'"

Van Gogh nods, taking a bite of his bagel. "Mhm," he dabs at some cream cheese smeared across his lips with a napkin. "That's exactly what I said."

"I liked it. You should be an author. I'm sure thirteen-year-old girls on the internet would eat that shit up."

Vincent rolls his eyes. "I'd like to think that if I were to ever become an author, my target audience wouldn't be thirteen-year-old girls on the internet."

JFK laughs. "I'm just playing. But I really do think you could make it."

The shorter boy shrugs, avoiding eye contact by looking down at his food. "Can I have some orange juice?"

John hands the boy a plastic cup and the bottle of orange juice. He'd made sure to get the pulp-free kind, because he knows Van Gogh won't drink it otherwise.

The forest warms up quickly under the sun, and pretty soon, both boys have to take off their letterman jackets. Vincent had almost forgotten what JFK looks like in just his striped red sweater and khakis, his threadbare white tube socks disappearing into the cuffs of his pants. Kennedy had almost forgotten what Van Gogh looks like so simply, in his yellow shirt and jeans. He's wearing his navy blue windbreaker still. It's very rarely warm enough for him to take it off. The boys mostly eat in contented silence, admiring the way the rays of sun drip through the tree branches and the quiet dribbling of the creek behind them. When Vincent finishes his bagel, he wipes his mouth with a napkin and rests back on his hands, his arms extended as he looks up at the trees. JFK stops eating just to admire the boy, to smile at the way his hair falls back when his head is tilted upwards, to bask in the uncomplicated presence of him. Kennedy blows a strand of hair out of his eyes, and Vincent tilts his head forward slowly, almost as if he's returning to reality from a far-away dimension.

"Vincent," JFK breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"I think you're pretty."

Vincent blushes and looks away. His stomach churns, and he wonders how he could possibly still feel nervous around JFK even now that they're boyfriends.

"I think you're pretty too, JFK."

"Minivan," John smiles.

Van Gogh inhales deeply, trying to steady his breath and calm his heart rate. "Johnny Boy."

"You know what's really special about calling someone your boyfriend?" He asks, leaning forward onto his hands and knees and crawling across the picnic blanket to Vincent.

"What's really special about calling someone your boyfriend?"

JFK waits until he's sitting down next to Vincent to speak again. He wraps his arms around the boy's chest from behind, pulling him in. The smaller boy positions himself between Kennedy's legs and presses his head back, listening to the boy's heartbeat. He closes his eyes, drowning himself in John's familiar scent.

"This," Kennedy whispers, his eyes closed as well. He rests his head atop the boy's, giving his hair a kiss.

"What's it like?" Vincent asks after a couple seconds, his eyes still closed. The sun burns kaleidoscopes into his cheeks, warm against his skin. "Being in love."

John takes a deep breath. "Like this."

"Does that mean...?"

"Shh..." JFK gives the boy another kiss on the head. "Don't ruin it."

"John?" Vincent asks after another second, opening his eyes now.

"Hm?"

He wriggles out of the boy's arms and turns around, sitting so they're facing each other. He slips his arms out of his navy blue windbreaker. He forces himself to look up at Kennedy now, who pulls his sweater off over his head. They sit in their t-shirts, one a soft yellow and the other a plain white, gazing at each other nervously. Vincent moves forward to kiss JFK first, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

"What is this like?" Van Gogh asks, kissing the boy harder than he ever has before.

JFK returns the kiss and lays on his back, pulling the boy down with him.

#clone high #clone high jfk #clone high van gogh #jfgogh #limitless

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