#trying to clear out the endless open tabs on my phone and finally read some of these | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

harrys-reverie · 4 years

Text

Dog Years // Harry Styles O.U.

Part 3: The Bookstore

a/n: hey everyone! welcome to part 3 of dog years. sorry it took so long on the update -- i just got back to college. i hope you enjoy this chapter!!! i personally consider it harry’s very subtle way of opening up to people (how i’d imagine it) as always like, SHARE, COMMENTS, feedback, all appreciated!!! xoo

STORY PAGE I PART ONE I PART TWO

To be fair I didn’t hear from Jeff or Harry for two whole days. I was starting to feel like they lowkey didn’t want me to be part of their ‘team’ anymore. I couldn’t be bothered even if they didn’t, because at the end of the day I worked for Eve, not them. But at the same time all I could do was sit and recollect about my night with all of them. Everything seemed to go so well, and i really thought they liked me. I liked them.

So since Eve figured my pay was now around the clock, if I wasn’t doing anything that I needed to do be doing something. It was just a bunch of menial tasks like picking up garbage around the premises, scooping up vile dog shit and what not. Honestly, it kind of sucked. I rather be fetching candles and dropping them off to Harry.

But finally it was Sunday and it was my day off. A part of me wanted to go back to my nans house, stop in and say hi. Then I remembered Sunday’s were her brunch and bingo days and she went out with all her cute old lady friends. I was starting to feel extremely lonely.

So I was left to myself in my little cottage. It was pretty relaxing, but all the time cooped up in here was becoming boring and repetitive. And to think I had 4 months left of this. Just sitting in my bed scrolling through shopping sites putting tons of clothes in a cart I’d never get around to purchasing. Even being payed around the clock wasn’t enough to buy a whole new wardrobe.

So yes, I was starting to get a little antsy that I heard nothing from Harry or Jeff. I sneakily biked by Harry’s cottage multiple times to see if he was still there throughout the two days, and his car was still parked in the driveway each time. I hadn’t seen him even around the premises at all doing anything. Or anyone from his group for that matter. I tried to tell myself by the end of the first day that they were all just super hungover. I knew that was a stretch but it eased my mind. Then yesterday rolled around and I had no comforting excuses for why I hadn’t heard from them.

I expressed my worry to Eve and she insisted that they were probably just getting settled. Okay, I’ll take that. That’s got to be it, right?

As I continued to worry in my head about what may have gone wrong I reached for my phone. Nope, no messages. Fuck. This was quickly becoming a bad habit, constantly checking my phone. Bravely I pressed Jeff’s contact, hovering my thumb over the call option. Should I try to reach out? Eh. Sighing, I locked the phone and tossed it to my side. If they needed me, they would act on it. I didn’t want to be a nuisance and bother any of them.

Focusing my attention back on my laptop I popped open a new tab on my Safari browser. I began typing his name, enter and then search.

Instantly an endless amount of brand new and just days old articles displayed across my screen. Harry Styles this, Harry Styles that. There was one recurring theme throughout all of these article titles though, a girls name - Camille.

“Camille Rowe, ex lover of musician Harry Styles states that he’s ‘overly jealous and begged her to stay when they broke up!’ Oh no, poor H. Read more here.”

“Apparently Harry Styles is a Freak in the Sheets! Ex Girlfriend Camille Rowe recollects on her sex life with the pop star in her new book ’Truth Be Told.’”

“Feeling bad about getting cheated on? Don’t feel bad,Harry Styles has been in your shoes too...his ex girlfriend opens up about the mistakes she made that ultimately led to the lyrics of Harry’s sophomore album, Fine Line.”

I couldn’t help but let out a gasp, all this couldn’t be true, could it? I exited out of the tab quickly, afraid to go on and read more of those terrible headlines. I honestly felt bad if all that was true, and if Harry’s ex girlfriend really did that, then I could only imagine how he might be feeling.

I could tell Harry really valued his privacy, why else would he be out here in the middle of nowhere in complete hiding? I thought back to him telling me how he had a disdain for California, I was now beginning to think she had some sort of connection to it. Poor Harry. Almost instantly I was feeling guilty, like I invaded Harry’s privacy by seeing all of those headlines. Imagining what the whole world most think and know of him right now is extremely unsettling. To bring up how he has sex and his most vulnerable moments and just like everyone know about it, it’s beyond fucked up.

Ting.

The world has a funny way of working making connections sometimes. Deep down in my gut I had a feeling it’d be Harry or Jeff who left me a text, it just had to be. Before I even reached my phone I saw the capital H, I knew it was Harry. Of course, he was texting me now, after I saw all that and felt so fucking bad. If he was any other person I’d ask if he wanted to have a nice chat, bring over some ice cream and wine and help him relax.

I wasn’t slow to swipe up on the message and see what he wrote.

‘Hiiiii Colette. Hope you’re well, it’s Harry. Have a huge favor to ask you whenever you get the chance. X”

Hah, he’s acting me for a favor as if I’m not getting paid to help him with whatever he needs. He’s too nice. I didn’t hesitate to start typing back.

‘Hi, Harry! How are you? I’ve been just well! As for the favor...sure anything :)”

Not even five seconds later my phone was vibrating and ringing at the same time, Harry’s name flashing across the screen. Ah, so he’s one of those people who have to make phone calls for everything. My hands felt like jelly as I went to accept the call. Even though we had a great night, him not talking to me for a couple days made me rethink how great that night might’ve actually been. Maybe I was just super tipsy and thought it was amazing when it was just subpar.

“Hello?” I chimed, placing the phone to my ear.

His deep Americanized-British accent greeted me, “Morning Colette!” He sounded extra chirpy this morning.

“Harry! Haven’t heard from you in a while..” I replied nervously.

There was a small pause. “Sorry ‘bout that just keeping busy and what not. I meant to text but, I was so preoccupied I forgot. ‘M sorry, won’t pull something like that again.”

My heart felt like it was being squeezed, my intention was never to make him feel bad but I could sense that I did. I wondered how stressful it was on him always being so kind to everyone, literally everyone. At all times of the day. I had a feeling that most of the time he was putting on an act when deep down he was just having real human problems that he had to keep tucked away.

“Don’t apologize,” I rushed. “It’s fine, seriously. What’s up?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” He joked. I could hear his soft chuckle from the other line. “Sunday’s.”

“The most relaxing day,” I noted, it was true.

“Relaxing enough where I feel like I should take some time and start a book.”

Oh, fuck. There wasn’t much enthusiasm in his voice anymore. I had a feeling I knew where all of this was heading, and I didn’t like it.

“Any day is a great day to start a book,” I suggested trying to hide my nerves. The universe really was one giant head fuck.

“Actually the favor I was going to ask you,” Harry drawled, a slight tinge of hesitation is his voice. “I really want this specific book.”

Yep, this was his heading right where I thought it would.

“Ooo which one?” I questioned excitedly, like I didn’t know. I was really hoping he’d take me by surprise and say that new Twilight book or something.

“It’s called Truth Be Told. Actually, bet it’s sold out everywhere. Can’t even Amazon fuckin’ Prime it.” He laughed. Maybe he was taking this a lot lighter than I thought...?

“Y’ know what. I don’t need it. Um, do you have any book recs?” Harry rushed.

“If you want that book I’ll go out in town and look for it, but if not I do have some recommendations,” I offered.

“Okay, how ‘bout this? I’ll lend you my car and could you get me that uh, Truth book or whatever and also, get me a book you recommend for me and I have one I recommend for you.”

“You trust me in your car? I just only started to learn to drive on the opposite side of the road,” I admitted with a smile, not like he could see it.

“If ya crash my car, I wouldn’t even try coming back...avoid the wrath of Harry Styles at all costs,” He countered.

“Uh-oh I’m scared,” I fake gasped.

“Hm, should be. I’m not like the papers say, ‘m actually a real diva.”

I was starting to really like this conversation.

“A lot of work, huh?”

“You think you can handle it?”

It’s like I could hear his smirk through the phone. This conversation went really, might I say flirtatious, really fast. I knew it was just his personality and I shouldn’t over think it. But if there is one thing I loved in life, it was a good flirt. And Harry, he was good at it.

I must have been zoned out for a moment because I heard Harry awkwardly clear his throat when I didn’t reply back to his flirtatious line.

“So ‘m gonna pick you up actually. We’ll go back to mine and then you can head off to get those books? Sound good?” He spoke into the line.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“See ya soon.”

With a click, the call was finished. As much as I wanted to sit back and recollect on what the fuck went down in that call I knew I needed to get out of bed and make myself presentable. He didn’t give me an ETA so I assumed I didn’t have much time on the clock.

I ran to my overflowing duffle, with all the time on my hands I really needed to get around to unpacking it. Was it bad that I wanted to try to look a little more dressed up than just jeans and a tee?

Yep, it was probably bad because I shouldn’t care how I look in front of him.

“Ugh!” I exclaimed, rummaging through all the wrinkled clothing. I settled on black jeans and a black blouse. It looked a bit funeral-esque, I’m hoping it came off as chic. I’d look like a rag doll next to him anyway, the least I could do was try.

He really wanted to go and get his ex girlfriend’s book, huh? I don’t know why he’d want to do that to himself, either way I was going to play dumb as rocks when he gave me the list of the name and author of the book. It’s not entirely an act though, I just read a few headlines. Correction, I just google searched his name and scrolled throw a bunch of headlines about how you have sex and cry — how terrible that would sound if he knew it was true. I will be taking that one to the grave with me.

I swore not even 5 minutes had passed by and the purring of Harry’s engine was already echoing through my house. He was only up the hill after all, but he gave me absolutely zero time to fix myself up. I just had to suck it up and go out there with my frizzy hair and oily skin and tough it out.

But that wasn’t even my biggest concern, my biggest concern was the fact I, a shit driver in the first place, was now being trusted to drive Harry’s extremely fancy Range Rover to a book store of some sorts somewhere. As soon as we traded off the car my plan was to start Google mapping a place and praying that it was close. The quicker I’m in and out of that vehicle, the better.

My phone pinged.

Harry.

“Should’ve gone to the bathroom before I left. Can I come in for a quick wee? X”

I just couldn’t get a break, my bathroom was cluttered with skincare products and dirty clothes piling on the side. I ran to the bathroom swiping up the dirty clothes and tossing them in an empty drawer in the dresser. He’ll just have to excuse all my beauty products, I didn’t want to keep him waiting too long.

“Come in!!!” I texted him back.

The sound of a car door slam was almost instantly followed by a polite knock at my door. Although the cottages were spread far apart I rushed over to the door, not wanting him to stay outside too long, afraid he might get noticed.

I peered through the peephole and was blessed by the handsome looks of Harry. He was tapping his foot against the cobblestone, the hood of his Nike rain jacket pulled over his head completely, while his hair was covered by a black beanie. Even being so covered up he was still so good looking. I opened the door for him, allowing him inside.

“Hi there,” He grinned as I welcomed him in. I’d love to chat but ‘m actually bout to wee my pants. Give me a moment please.”

Harry then fast walked his way over to the bathroom, obviously familiar with the floor plan. He must’ve stayed in one of the smaller cottages before. The smell of his heavenly cologne suffocated the room instantly. I knew I’d still be smelling it lingering in the air even later on tonight.

All the rushing to get ready and let him in, I wasn’t even focused on my stomach which was knotting like crazy. It felt like it could explode from nerves at just any minute. I don’t remember ever feeling this nervous when I had to see him. Granted I’ve only seen him those two times, but I played it off so cool then. I think I was just working myself up over nothing right now.

I heard the sound of running water and momentarily the steps of his shoes making their way back over to me.

“Can we redo the greeting?” He questioned with a big smile.

“Ok..”

“No, ‘m actually just going to pop outside, knock again and everything,” Harry insisted seriously.

“I’ll pretend like you didn’t just rush to the bathroom like a toddler who hasn’t gone to the bathroom all day,” I agreed, going along with his little act.

“Great.”

Harry popped open the front door, shutting it behind him and going back into the hazy morning air, doing a quick spin before making contact with the door once again.

Knock.

I couldn’t help but giggle as I opened up the door for him the second time.

“Morning Colette, how are ya doing on this fine September morning?” Harry asked me extra cheerily, creeping in for a hug. I embraced him back, the scent of his cologne engulfing my senses once again.

“Doing just fine Mr. Styles. Could I offer you some tea?” I asked in a proper tone, putting on my best imitation of a British accent.

Harry rolled his eyes, breaking the act...”That��s the best you got? You’ve only bloody been staying in England for a whole month.”

“Is it that bad?” I asked appalled.

“Terrible.”

“Better luck next time.” I sighed jokingly.

“Don’t even try. I like your voice just how it is naturally, anyway,” He spoke honestly. The second it left his mouth he too looked taken aback at the compliment he had just thrown at me.

“Want to go get those books?” I suggested awkwardly, dismissing his compliment and changing the topic. Back to business.

Harry seemed surprised by how I brushed it off and maybe even a little embarrassed, his finger began fiddling with his bottom lip. I was starting to pick up that was a little thing he did when he was nervous.

“The books. How could I forget,” He replied dully.

“If i’m being honest I don’t even know where a book store is around here,” I huffed.

“I do,” He smirked.

“Well that’s no help considering I’m going by myself,” I rolled my eyes back at him playfully.

Harry was leaning his body weight on the wooden table by the entrance, a huge smirk painted on his face.

“Guess you’re outta luck then.”

“Would it be bad if I asked for you to come with and guide me?” I asked bravely. I was taking myself by surprise with how upfront I was being towards him. It was just so hard not to be when he was just so normal.

His face dropped a little. I couldn’t tell what sort of reaction he was feeling towards my question but he looked upset. I instantly regretted it because I know my request was about to be rejected.

“As much as I’d love to...” Harry began. “I can’t.”

“Stupid of me to ask,” I replied casually brushing it off. I wanted to change the topic.

“No, it’s not. Maybe I’m better off ordering books online, anyways.”

“I mean, I could still, go get it for you. Something to do.”

Harry brushed it off, shoving his hands in his sweat pockets. “Nope, don’t want you to anymore..the ratings weren’t even that good.”

Oh wow, Harry has some pettiness in him. I couldn’t blame him though. I think anybody else would feel the same way. I wanted to just reach out and tell him I knew why he wanted that book, and that it’s not even worth a bother. I really felt for him. I too had a bad ex, as we typically all do. I can’t say it was as bad as Harry’s past relationship, but mine was bad in it’s own unique way.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled before turning his gaze back towards me. “Let’s go get them books.”

I was surprised, “Really?”

“I hate to do this and act like a macho pop star but ‘m really gonna have to go incognito. Can’t even step out the car with ya unfortunately, but I’ll drive us.”

My heart warmed at his offer, I knew he was probably going against what his strict hiding rules were in order to go through with this. If he was just driving a heavily tinted car though, was there still a way for paparazzi to notice him? I was excited, I think he could tell because he let out a small giggle, shaking his head.

“Let’s hit the road then!” I exclaimed.

“After you,” He grinned, holding the door open in front of me and leading me to his car.

_________________

The ride with Harry was going well. He had a incognito get up of sunglasses, a beanie and his hood up, making sure there was no way someone could detect it was him. His car smelled like fresh leather and mint, there was an abundance of chewing gum packets stashed in the front compartment of his car along with miscellaneous receipts. Lucky for the both of us, the roads were almost completely clear and there was no traffic heading into town.

Harry was just as attractive looking while driving as I thought he would be. To be fair there was something so enticing about having any guy drive all manly and taking control. But especially Harry driving was a beautiful sight to see. The background music of the radio was humming in the background as the two of us chatted along casually.

“How are you going to recommend me a book if you can’t even come in?” I questioned him.

He turned to me, “Who said I’m not coming in?”

“You did!”

“Might just be your lucky day then,” He smirked. “Do you have a good recommendation in mind for me? Shall we surprise one another?”

I nodded my head, “Sounds like a plan.”

“No soppy romantic books, please,” He scoffed.

“But those are my favorites!”

“Don’t care. I’ve probably read all the best of them anyways,” Harry argued back, a huge smirk painted on his face.

Deep down I knew already which book I was going to pick out for him if it was there. I didn’t care if it was a romantic one or not because I had a feeling he hadn’t read it yet and I had an ever greater feeling that he’d fall in love with it.

The two of us went back and forth chatting to each other another until we began to reach a cobblestone path that led to a small selection of shops. The plaza was secluded and had just a few small buildings overgrown with ivy unevenly placed amongst one another. I’d say there was a max of 5 or 6 cars in the whole parking lot. To be fair, we were pretty far out of town I’d say we had been driving for at least 20 minutes.

“You ready?” He questioned. I could tell there was a hint of nerves in his voice. He was awkwardly fiddling with his wallet and pushing his hood down. He was now just left with his oversized black beanies and sunglasses as his ‘disguise.’

“Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to,” I insisted earnestly. I didn’t want to push him to be in a situation that could get messy really quick.

“I’ll be fine here,” Harry reasoned, turning his gaze to the entrance of a little shop by the name of ‘Greg’s Books and More.’

“If anything goes bad, it wasn’t my fault!”

I didn’t want to be responsible for anything that might ensue, after all Harry was the one who insisted to walk in the shop with me. I had a good feeling that we’d be set though, there was literally nobody around and we were far from any major city with large amounts of people.

The two of us hopped out simultaneously shutting the car doors together. Walking side by side with him in the bright daylight made me more aware of the height difference between us, one I had barely ever noticed before. His single strides were equivalent to almost double mine and his shoulders were just a slight amount higher than my eye level.

“Good morning!” A sweet old man, short and stout greeted us from behind a counter of the shop. Harry and I both waved back.

“Morning sir, how are ya doing today?” Harry asked kindly, stopping short to stand and talk to the man.

“Just having a cuppa, enjoying the Sunday,” The man replied. “Let me know if you two kids have any questions.”

I shot the man another small smile before turning to Harry. “May the best book picker win?” I joked.

“You’ve got 10 minutes.”

“1...2..” I began counting down, but before I could even reach the number three, Harry was already rushing to the rows of books, an agenda already on his mind. He seemed so confident in what he was going to pick that I soon began to re think what I was going to choose for his book.

I hurriedly rushed to the other side of the bookstore, scanning the shelves with my eyes. The shop was small and I could hear Harry rummaging through shelves on the opppsite side. I had 10 minutes to find the book I had in mind, something I loved that I wanted to pass on to Harry.

The thought of trading off books to someone who a very intimate gesture, an invitation to be apart of another’s brain. I still couldn’t believe I was here right now with Harry Styles, a now friend, spending my Sunday out and about the town. I knew it was my day off but I knew when I arrived back to my cottage I’d want to inform Eve.

As my eyes panned over the endless covers and names of authors and titles a familiar bright blue and green cover popped up. Ah, I knew what this was. Before I had even fully removed it from the shelf, the yellow cursive script was already showing.

Love is a Mix Tape.

Given his career in music I knew right away this would be the perfect book for him. I had read it months ago, but the impact it left on me remained the same. A story not specifically circled around romance, but hints at the struggles of love and loss. It was funny and a joy to read.

I looked over the book making sure there were no imperfections, torn pages or bent covers. Luckily there was none, I angled it to my side hiding it just in case he’d pop out of of nowhere.

Walking up to the cash register there was no sign of him, he was probably still amongst the jungle of books so I took this as my invitation to check out.

“Hi,” I chirped to the old man who sat behind the desk, his glasses almost falling off his face as he read through the book in front of him.

“Hello there love, you all set?” He asked, walking over to the vintage-like cash register.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I put the book down between us already beginning to reach in my purse for my wallet. I really hoped Harry hasn’t read this one yet.

“Can I just give you money to cover both my book and the other customers? Like, pass it on..” I spoke handing the man almost triple the amount of my single book. He looked at me inquisitively and then began to smile.

“I’m sure that young man will appreciate it,” He smiles, a glimmer of knowingness in his eyes. I knew the gesture was small and i knew money was not a problem for him but I had such an urge to just do it anyways.

I thanked the man as he wrapped up the book and placed it in a brown paper bag, graciously taking it from him. Harry was still amongst the jungle of shelves and I didn’t want to prowl or cause attention so I decided to wait outside the store. The air was fresh and crisp, the sound of chirping birds and whistling trees engulfed my senses. I’m almost sure Harry had reached his 10 minute mark, but I wasn’t going to rush him. I had a feeling it was a rare occurrence for him to be able to aimlessly shop around, crowd free.

“Ya ready?” His voice erupted behind me, the bell of the door pinging in the quiet air. I turned to face him, his paper bag tucked underneath his arm.

“Not really,” I joked, it wasn’t a complete lie though. I wouldn’t mind shopping around with him in little hideaways all day. Harry caught up to me and we began the short walk back to his car in quiet. As my hand began to reach the handle he quickly swooped in front of me, opening it himself. I looked at him with a stupid look on my face, in awe of a gentleman.

“Oh thanks,” I spoke sheepishly.

“My pleasure.”

I hopped in and moments later Harry was back in the drivers seat beside me pressing the car on and pumping up the heat.

“Thanks, by the way.” He gestured to the paper bag.

“Oh, not a problem at all! Random acts of kindness or whatever,” I brushed it off.

“Not used to someone covering the bill,” He admitted. “Not like that type of stuff matters to me.”

“Well don’t even worry about it.”

“I’ll get you back next time,” He noted.

Next time. So there’s going to be a next time? A next time of us going to the book store? A next time of us hanging out? A next time of what?

“Should we swap these books or what?” I questioned, changing the topic once again.

“So eager, huh?” Harry laughed.

“Well we’re just sitting here in a empty parking lot, you have any other suggestions?”

“You’re right,” He quipped. “Here you are then.”

The two of us exchanged the bags. He lifted it to his ear, shaking it as if it was a surprise gift and he was trying to guess what it could be.

“Just get on with it!” I exclaimed.

“Hush, hush.” He began opening it, very carefully, soon revealing the book I had chosen for him.

“Lucky for you, I’ve never read this. Thank you,” He seemed very grateful as he looked over the front cover, going back and forth between the pages quickly. “I’m excited.”

“Thank God,” I huffed. “I was nervous you’d have read it before.”

“Nope, never. You did good,” Harry compliments, his eyes falling back to my unopened bag in my hands. “Now it’s your turn.”

Oh, yeah.

“I hate when people watch me open stuff,” I admitted. My hand was toying with the bag as I looked at him nervously. I didn’t like people watching me because I was afraid that I wouldn’t give off the right reaction to whatever they may have given me. It was too much pressure, and especially Harry watching me so intently it made me nervous.

“Want me to turn away?” He offered earnestly. “I know people like that, my sister.”

“Maybe just like causally look out the car or whatever.”

Immediately he began fiddling with his windshield wipers, intently focusing on them as if they were some sort of puzzle. I wanted to tell him not to use them when it wasn’t raining and it’d damage the car, but I’m sure he knew that. I took that as my queue to quickly unpack-age the book, afraid he might cause damage.

When I opened it up it revealed not one but two books. The one on top made my heart sink, I recognized the title right away. It was his ex girlfriends book. Why would he give this one to me? Should I act like I know what it is and what it’s about? No. Play dumb. Underneath it though, was a book by the name of ‘Betting On The Muse’ by Charles Bakowski. Ah, poetry.

“You done yet slowpoke?” Harry interrupted my thoughts, the two books sat between my lap.

“You can look,” I complied. “Are they both for me?”

“Yes,” He replied simply. “But, I have some stipulations.”

“This wasn’t a part of the deal.”

“I would like if you read the Bukowski book first. It’s poems, I want you to read them and guess which one is my favorite when you’re finished,” He instructed sweetly. Although there was direction in his tone, it came off so kind. “As for the other one..” He paused and then let out a huff.

“I don’t even want you to touch it,” He continued. “Don’t look it up, reviews, synopsis...anything.”

“Okay,” I agreed. I was confused but I didn’t want to let that on.

“One day, if I give you the ‘ok’ I want you to read it. If you want. You don’t have to listen to me by any means, but yeah,” He finished awkwardly.

“So just hold onto it?” I asked, holding up the Truth Be Told book. His eyes glimpsed down to it before quickly shooting back up to meet my gaze. The cover was what I was assuming to be her, his ex. Her hair was messy, lips full, topless with her arms covering her breasts in shades of black and white.

“Yeah, just hold on to it,” He stated.

“You’ve got my word,” I smiled. I could feel the tension in the car and I didn’t want it anymore. This was supposed to be a lighthearted excursion and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Great, well thank you for the books. I’ll start mine right away,” Harry began as he started the car once again. “You ready to take back off?”

I nodded watching him look over the book I had gotten him one last time. He smiled at it before turning to smile towards me. I smiled back. He then brought his hand to the radio, clicked a few things on his iPhone and then turned the notch up loudly. As he began to pull out of the cobblestone parking lot, the beautiful sound of his voice filled the car. This time it was in song.

19 notes · View notes

dcmidivine · 4 years

Text

boiling point || jaime & alec

date: late april, 2019

summary: tensions run high, jaime makes alec cry

Jaime had been acting off lately, and Alec was starting to get worried. They knew the cause was stress, and they knew how Jaime got when he was stressed, but this time around none of their efforts to cheer him up or relax him were successful. University was far from Alec's realm of expertise, but he hadn't been near this bad around midterms– surely finals weren't so much harder?

The time they had spent together recently had been nice, but rare. Jaime was busy, that was obvious, and Alec tried to understand, but they had missed him being around. When he agreed to come over to study instead of staying in at his place, they were delighted– until he showed up with his books to actually study. Alec checked their phone and decided enough time had passed in silence. They settled down on the floor at his feet and rested their chin on his knee, watching his face. "How much do you have left?"

Open books surrounded Jaime as he sat cross-legged on the couch in the Tyche cabin, his notebook balanced on his knee. In one hand he held a pen, in the other, his music theory anthology. Finals started in three days and he had an exam in each of his classes, as well as two term papers, a presentation on a famous composer, and a recorded performance of an original song - all due in the span of a week. Stress radiated off Jaime in sickening waves. If you looked carefully, peering past the glare of his glasses, you could see a faint change in the color of his irises. He was lost in thought, barely registering Alec's words. "Hm? What?" He looked at his partner distractedly, pushing his glasses back up his nose with the end of his pen. "What did you say? I missed it, I'm sorry."

Alec smiled up at him and folded their arms on his knee to rest their chin on top of their forearms now. The colour change in his eyes caught their attention and their smile faded slightly. “It’s okay. I was just asking how much you had left?” Their voice raised hopefully at the end of their sentence. “We could do something, play a game maybe? Or just hang out?”

"Oh, um, I have...." Jaime trailed off, remembering a detail he wanted to include in a paper. He began writing furiously, the end of his sentence unfinished. He reached the end of his page and glanced up, looking surprised to see Alec resting on his knee. "Sorry, I-" Jaime shook his head, sorting out his thoughts. "A game?"

Alec watched as he scribbled down some more information and sighed quietly. They knew he didn't mean to ignore them, but it still wasn't a pleasant feeling. Be patient, they reminded themself and inhaled slowly through their nose, smiling at him again. "If you have time to take a break? It doesn't have to be game. Just something we can do together."

Jaime nodded, still not properly focused on Alec as his brain swirled with topics for term papers and snatches of song lyrics. "Together," he echoed, nodding as he flipped to a new page in his notebook. He patted the couch beside him, moving his books into a stack so his partner could join him on the couch, "We're spending time together right now," he looked at Alec, brows knit together. Jaime gave them a preoccupied smile and offered his hand to help them up. "C'mere."

Alec took his hand and climbed up onto the couch next to him, crossing their legs as they sat facing him. They put one hand on his shoulder, pressing their thumb into muscle to try and loosen up some of his tension. “Is the work going good?”

He closed his eyes the moment Alec's hand landed on his shoulder. Jaime hummed in acknowledgement, letting himself relax into the massage from his partner. At the mention of work, his shoulders tensed. "Unfortunately, no. The list of tasks I need to complete is endless. The due dates are all looming. The exams seem impossible. The composition I need to prepare falls deaf on my ears. I don't know when I'll complete it all."

Alec sighed again as Jaime listed everything he had to do, though this time it was in sympathy. They may not understand anything about schoolwork, tenth grade somewhere far back in their memory, but they knew how important it was to their boyfriend. Not that it would make them worry less. "Okay, but you've been at it for hours," they pointed out, clambering up to sit behind Jaime on the back of the couch so they could rub his shoulders properly. "You should take a break to clear your head! And eat something, definitely. Want me to make dinner?"

"Three hours is nothing," Jaime countered, a note of defeat in his voice. He tabbed backwards in his notes, remembering a detail that would be perfect for one of his papers. His posture remained stiff, even as Alec tried to rub his shoulders. "No, no," he shook his head. "That'll take too long, it's okay. I'll eat later."

Alec frowned now that Jaime couldn’t see their expression and hunched over to rest their chin on his shoulder, carding their fingers through his hair. “C’mon, Jay, you gotta eat something. Did you have lunch? You don’t even gotta take a full break, just enough to get something in your system.” They turned their head and kissed his cheek. “Everything’ll still be here when you get back.”

Jaime resisted the urge to duck his head. He knew Alec was just trying to be supportive, he knew he should be appreciative of the care he was being shown, but all he could focus on was his inability to retain the information he was studying. "Lunch?" He scowled, though they couldn't see. "I think I had a granola bar...maybe." He exhaled through his nose when Alec kissed his cheek, trying to smile. His eyes were starting to ache and he pushed his glasses up into his hair so that he could rub his eyes with his knuckles. Jaime's irises were even lighter still, the air around them felt heavy. "Alec, I don't need to eat right now. Really." He tried to keep the edge out of his voice, a strained smile flickering across his face.

Alec sat back when Jaime responded, deterred by the tone in his voice. They ran their tongue over their teeth as they made up their mind whether to let it go or not, and slid back down to sit beside him. "You'll think better if you're not hungry," they pointed out, tilting their head towards the kitchen. It was always difficult for them to think on an empty stomach, so they imagined it was the same for everyone. "You don't even need to stop for long, I can bring it to you? At least have some water. Please?"

He opened his mouth, about to dismiss their offer again but decided against it. "Don't...you don't have to cook for me. If you really want me to eat, I'll help make something. And I'll drink some water." Jaime nudged his water bottle with his foot before picking it up. He ran his other hand through his hair, taking a few deep breaths to calm the buzzing in his skull. "Really though, I- it's fine, Alec. Just a mountain of work." He opened his bottle and took a sip, turning away from them.

Alec chewed their lip when Jaime turned away from them and moved down to kneel on the ground at his feet again, resting a hand on his knee and leaning to one side to try and catch his eye, brows creased. "Jay?" They pressed their cheek into their shoulder, watching his face, chest tight with worry. "Are you okay? I really don't mind making food. But I'm worried about you."

“Alec, I’m fine. Really.” Jamie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the pressure building behind them. When he opened them again, he focused on Alec, his gaze softening as he held their eyes. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me, love.” His voice seemed to lose its energy as he reached the end of his sentence, fading mid-word. Still, he tried to smile, giving Alec’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

If anything, Jaime's attempt at reassurance only served to make Alec more worried. They turned their hand over to hold his, sitting back on their heels as they frowned up at him. "At least move to one of the card tables. Your back's gonna be killing you if you stay leaned over on the couch like that."

“Alright, alright.” He sighed before acquiescing to Alec’s request. Jaime scooped up his stack of books, placing his notebook on stop and stood up. He glanced at his partner before heading to the card table. “Is it okay that I’m here to study? Or do you want me to leave?”

Alec followed Jaime over to the card table and perched on the edge, still watching him. They furrowed their brows at the question, cocking their head to the side like a dog. "Why would I want you to leave? I never want you to leave."

Jaime inhaled through his nose, setting out his notebook and the book he had been reading. After a moment, he turned to Alec. "Because I'm wasting your day. You want to do things, have fun, play games. And I need to study for my exams, write my papers, create a composition. I know this-" he gestured to himself, dropping his hand in his lap. "This version of me is not the one you want to spend time with."

Alec reached over to touch his shoulder, shaking their head before Jaime even finished speaking. "Aw, Jay, no." They frowned at him. "Every version of you is one I want to spend time with. I love you all the time, not just when you're happy."

“That’s just not true.” Jaime’s eyes flashed. He returned Alec’s frown, disregarding the second half of their statement. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Alec withdrew their hand, unsure. They blinked a few times, not used to this tone from their boyfriend. "Uh." They swallowed. "Like what?"

Jaime pressed his lips together, trying to reign in the negative feelings bubbling to the surface of his emotions. He closed his book and spoke without looking at Alec, “Like I’m a stubborn child.” He tried to blink the ache out of his eyes and waved a hand at his notebook. “Do you understand how important this is to me?”

"What? Jaime, no." Alec shook their head vehemently, chest tightening. "I'm not– of course I do! I know how much this means to you." They reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder again. "I understand. I just think you still need to take care of yourself, I've never seen you so stressed before."

"I'm perfectly capable of caring for myself, Alec." He exhaled a puff of air, frustration written all over his face. Jaime opened his mouth to say something else but cut himself off when Alec's hand landed on his shoulder. He seemed to deflate a little bit, sinking slightly into their touch, though his expression was still unreadable.

Alec rubbed their thumb over his shoulder as he leaned into their touch, relieved at even the small gesture of surrender. They scooted over an inch on the table so they were closer to him. "I know! But sometimes you need a little reminder. And this seems like one of those times?"

Jaime sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. He shoved his glasses up into his hair so that he could press the heels of his hands into his eyes. No matter how much pressure he applied, the headache kept building. It was behind his eyes, in his temples, in the air. "What I need," he murmured. "Is to finish my work for the semester..."

“It’ll still be here after a short break.” Alec felt like a broken record at this point, but they didn’t want to let it go, not when they could see the state Jaime was in. They chewed their lip and dropped their hand back to their lap. “Is your head hurting? I can get you some water. Or Advil?”

A break from the avalanche of work on his plate sounded so enticing, Jaime almost agreed. Something held him back, something more than the pounding in his skull. He lifted his face from his hands, looking at Alec; his glasses were still perched atop his head so they were nothing more than a large blur on the card table. "No," he sighed, knowing he was not experiencing a normal headache. "Look, Alec, I need really to study. If that's going to interfere with your engaging afternoon of-of hanging around your cabin and daydreaming, by all means, let me know." Jaime cut himself off, surprising himself with the bite in his tone. He looked at Alec with wide eyes. "I-"

Hurt flashed across Alec’s face at their boyfriend’s words and tone, and turned their head away from him to hide their expression before they remembered he wouldn’t be able to see it anyway without their glasses on. They swallowed, then nodded and hopped off the table. “Is there anything I can do to help, then?” they asked, voice carefully calm past the lump that had risen in their throat. “I can read, or take notes?”

Jaime blinked, seeing the blob that was his partner move. He slid his glasses back onto his face and rubbed his temples. "Sure," he sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Whatever works. Um," he shuffled some papers and pushed a packet Alec's way. He placed a stack of blank index cards and a pen on a table next to them. "If you could, um...write the notes from this study guide on the cards...?"

Alec nodded and pulled a chair over to sit in front of the cards. Picking up the pen felt weird– they could barely remember the last time they wrote something on paper instead of typing it. Still, they were determined to help in some way even if it wasn't getting their boyfriend to eat, so they ducked their head down and started copying the notes over onto the cards. "You got it!" they affirmed.

He hummed in acknowledgement, his nose already back in his music theory book. Without looking up, he took detailed notes; his cursive handwriting flowed across the page. "Thanks," he mumbled, realizing he hadn't said anything. Fifteen minutes later, Jaime finished annotating the chapter he was reading and looked over at his partner. He picked up one of their completed flashcards, studying it. His face quickly morphed into a look of confusion. "Uh...Alec?"

Alec finished the one they were writing and turned to look at him, tucking the pen behind their ear so they didn't misplace it. They smiled at him. "Mhm? Everything okay?"

"These are..." Jaime closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. Frustration started to rise up in his chest all over again and he tried to swallow the feeling, but the wave crested and his words crashed out. "Did you do this intentionally?" He waved the card in their direction. "These are all botched." He rifled through the stack of flashcards Alec had completed. "Everything is spelled incorrectly. The notes are unclear. I don't understand. You just had to copy...Is this- Is this just a joke to you?"

Alec's heart dropped in their chest and they swallowed, looking at the card they were working on and comparing it to the notes they were copying to try and see what he was talking about. The harder they focused and the higher their stress level rose, the more the letters blurred around, and they blinked as they looked back at their boyfriend. "I... what? No!" They shook their head, pulling one of the cards they had written back and trying to spot the mistakes on it, eyebrows scrunched together in concern. "No, no, it's not. I can do them over? Are they that bad?"

"No, no- Alec, just," Jaime pinched the bridge of his nose again, closing his textbook roughly. "Forget it." His headache was back with a vengeance, pounding in his ears. The waves of frustration were only growing; Jaime hadn't anticipated this feeling but he could not seem to quell his irritation. He stood, gathering up his stack of textbooks. His tone was sharp when he spoke, his eyes were gleaming. "Just forget it, Alec."

Alec slowly put the card back on the table, taking a moment before turning to face Jaime. They hugged their arms and stood up after a couple seconds. “Are you leaving?” they asked, their voice soft to try and cushion their boyfriend’s tone. “I can do the cards over, I really don’t mind- or, um, I can quiz you? Or make dinner? Or just go up to the loft and leave you alone? Or- you don’t have to go, Jay, come on, it’s still early. We could go up to the roof? That might be a good place to study, it’s still light enough out, and pretty quiet, I can help you carry your things up! But we’ve barely seen each other lately, I can find something else to do so I don’t mess up your notes?”

Alec's initial question was too much for Jaime to answer in the moment, so he skirted past it. He dropped his pen on his stack of books and rubbed his eyes, trying, trying to get the ache to go away. Alec's expression tugged at Jaime's heart, but he was too far gone into a spiral of frustration to do anything about it. "I'll do them over," he said dismissively, giving them a sharp look. Alec's barrage of questions came in time with the pounding in Jaime's skull. He just stared at them, eyes blazing a poisonous green. The air around them felt different but he was heated, unaware of the affect he was having on the space. "No, Alec. Don't cook. Not for me. It's still early, you have plenty of time to do whatever you want, and I have plenty of time to go home and study in peace." Though he wanted nothing more than to go up on the roof and sit with Alec, he had started this fight and it was too late to turn back now. His tone, like his gaze, was uncharacteristically acidic. "You've helped enough."

The air pressure around them seemed to shift and Alec winced, touching a hand to the back of their head as a spike of pain shot through. It was easy enough to ignore considering how much their heart hurt in comparison with the look their boyfriend gave them. They shrunk under his words, rubbing one of their arms. "I can leave you in peace," they said quietly, scuffing one foot along the ground. "Just stay, c'mon."

Jaime flexed his fingers and balled his fists at his side. The hurt that flashed across Alec's face should have been enough to calm him down but the words tumbled out. "Leave me in peace? When have you ever? Your chatter never ceases. You want everything to be fun, to be a game. Does your head ever leave the clouds? Come on, Alec" His eyes flashed as he clenched his jaw.

Alec bit their lip as the pounding in their head increased and they let out a small pained sound that was more of a whine. Jaime had never snapped at them like this before- they hoped his words were just from stress, not something he thought about all the time. They stared at the ground by his feet. “I can be serious,” they mumbled, thoughts blurry past the building headache. “I could be quiet if you want. I could, I promise.”

Jaime hadn't realized that the pressure in his head had begun to fade until he heard Alec whimper. He was still to upset to process what that meant, blind to power rolling off him in waves; it was out of his control, even if he had noticed. "Alec, stop. Just-" He pushed his glasses up his nose. "You don't have to do anything for me. No promises. Just...stop."

Alec looked up at Jaime now but had a hard time focusing, unsure if their blurred vision was from the ache still building behind their eyes or from the tears starting to well. They rubbed their eyes, but the pressure just made the headache worse and they whimpered again. "What are you..." They pressed their palms into their temples to try and ease the pain enough to focus. "Why're you saying this?"

"I can't do this." Jaime was too busy aggressively shoving his books into his backpack to look at Alec. All of his senses were in overdrive and he just wanted to be rid of the poisonous feeling in his chest. "I can't do this," he repeated, still not looking at them. He turned to pick up his water bottle, still on the floor by the couch, and caught sight of his reflection in one of the pinball machines. Jaime flinched, shocked to see the radioactive glow of his eyes. His anger faded to a dull hum as his heart began to race, finally realizing that the extra element he had been feeling had been his powers betraying him. Alec's tears, the sound of their voice...it made even more sense when he realized that they were in pain. He spun around to face them, eyebrows knit together when he saw their face. "Alec...Alec, I'm so sorry. I-" Jaime lifted a hand but quickly dropped it, distraught at the effect his wayward powers were having on them. He could feel tears welling up in his own eyes and took a step back, chest heaving as he began to hyperventilate. "I'm sorry..."

Alec squeezed their eyes shut then pressed their hand over them to block out more of the light as the migraine reached its peak. They crouched down as though that would make it better and hunched over, burying their face in their arms as they listened to Jaime packing all his things away. They wanted to ask him to stop again but it was difficult to keep a thought still past the stabbing pain, the hum of the machines, and Jaime's voice. Only when he stopped speaking did the headache dull enough for them to lift their head from their arms, though they didn't risk opening their eyes in case it made it worse again. Blindly, they grasped at the air in front of them, trying to take his hand, or arm, or whatever they could reach. Gradually, they were able to start to think again, and they wiped the tears from their face, careful to move slowly so they didn't jolt their still aching head. "What can't you...?"

Watching Alec hold their head in pain as they dealt with a migraine that he had caused was too much for Jaime, as he spiralled into a panic attack. He was shaking his head, eyes wide in shock, his breathing rushed and uneven. He took a step backwards, closer to the door, trying to find something, anything, a switch in his subconscious to turn off his powers. Though his eyes returned to their normal color, his lack of control over what was happening to them only sent Jaime into further panic. When Alec reached out blindly, he felt hot tears threaten to spill over. "I can't do this, I-I can't." Jaime's voice broke, his hands trembling as he took another step backwards, reaching for the door. "This, us. I'm sorry. This is- Alec, this is over. We're over. I-I have to leave." He hesitated before opening the door, looking over his shoulder at Alec. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

"No, no no no." Alec scrambled up to their feet, using a chair for balance when they stood too quickly and lights flashed over their vision. They opened their eyes to see him and shook their head, trying to ignore the pain. They desperately wiped tears off of their face, but they kept coming. "No, Jaime, no, no, please don't."

Jaime couldn't stand it any longer; he shook his head at Alec, still taking ragged breaths. A hollow feeling had started to form in his chest, replacing all of the anger and frustration that he'd allowed to build up over the past few months. He pushed the door open, turning over his shoulder to look at them. The tears running down their face only made him feel more hollow inside. "Alec, I'm sorry." He shook his head again, his voice hoarse as he spoke. "I have to leave, I'm sorry." Jaime slipped outside, taking off for the Apollo cabin, head ducked, moving as fast as he could without running. He burst into the cabin, scaring one of the cats, and beelined for his room. Slamming the door behind him, Jaime dropped his backpack and sunk to his knees, back against the door. He cradled his head in his hands and let out a sob.

#chatzys #ajaime #alec #jaime #throwback chatzy to their breakup uh oh

4 notes · View notes

girls-scenarios · 6 years

Text

I Just Want to Be With You

Idol: Seulgi (Red Velvet)

Prompt: Can I request a fluffy scenario with seulgi where female reader has been best friends with her since seulgi’s been a trainee and then confesses to her with the help of the rest of RV? Please and thank you :) <3

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: So if I read this right, it’s the reader confessing to Seulgi. If not, then the scenario is a bit backwards and I apologize- But I do hope everyone enjoys!

Warnings: A curse word or two

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to meet with you for a while. We’ve been so busy with promotions that it’s crazy.” Seulgi’s voice drifted through the phone speaker, sounding exhausted, and even in the dim light and the quality of the facetime camera, you could see the dark circles under her eyes.

“It’s okay, I totally understand. I just hope you get to rest soon,” you answered, making an exaggerated pouting face that made her laugh.

“I will, don’t worry.” Somewhere in the background, Joy’s voice rang out, calling for Seulgi, and she sighed. “Sorry, (Y/N), I have to go. I promise I’ll call you again soon, okay?” You gave her an encouraging smile.

“It’s okay, just please get some rest tonight.”

“I will,” she said, smiling back and waving. “Bye!” You waved back until the call ended and then sighed, flopping back down onto your bed. Those few minutes hadn’t been long enough, and you missed her. You missed the days when she was a trainee, when you had to drag her out of practice rooms because she practiced too much and when the two of you would sit outside convenience stores, eating instant noodles and laughing about everything and nothing. The trainee days had been hard on her, and you’d been working too, but somehow the two of you always found time for each other, spending nights huddled under warm blankets and whispering secrets and worries to each other until the dark lulled you to sleep.

Your phone buzzed, and you sat up on your elbow to look at it.

Don’t worry about me too much, I’ll be fine. Let’s go get coffee when my promotions end! <3 - Seulgi

Your heart jumped, and you couldn’t help smiling again as you typed out a quick reply.

I can’t help worrying, but yes, let’s! I miss you :( - (Y/N)

It only took moments before your phone buzzed with her reply.

I miss you too. A lot. But we’ll see each other soon! - Seulgi

You knew it was true, Seulgi never let it go too long without seeing you, even during her busiest times. But still, you missed her. You laid back down on your bed and curled up in the blankets, her smiling features dancing behind your eyelids.

The cafe Seulgi had suggested was new and trendy, sort of hidden off the regular roads of Seoul, tucked back in an alleyway. It was pretty, covered in vines and flowers, and you could already imagine how Seulgi would look sitting in front of the faded brick walls with a cup of coffee in her hands. It was the perfect place for social media photos, and although you wanted one for yourself, you were more excited to take one of her.

“(Y/N)!” You looked up and immediately smiled. Seulgi was walking towards you, waving wildly.

“Long time no see,” you said, laughing as she wrapped you in a tight hug. You held her close, and maybe the two of you hugged a bit longer than would be normal for friends, but neither of you acknowledged it when you finally pulled apart.

“I missed you so much,” Seulgi said, catching your hands in her own.

“I missed you too,” you said, smiling. This, this felt right. Her, there in front of you, smiling and holding your hands and no longer looking exhausted.

“You know, just seeing you makes me feel less stressed.”

“You’re cheesy,” you joked in response, even though your heart had skipped a bit. “Let’s go get our coffee now. And a sandwich or something, I’m starving.” She laughed.

“I’m glad to see you haven’t changed since we last met.”

“Oh come on, I know you want to get coffee and take some Instagram photos too.”

“You got me there,” she said, grinning. When the two of you walked into the cafe, she was still holding your hand, and something in your heart clicked, giving you a surge of confidence. You knew you wanted to be with her forever, and you were going to do something about it. You were going to ask her out.

It took exactly five minutes once you got home to realize that you had no idea how you were going to do it. You sat on your bed, scrolling through endless Pinterest boards and searching ideas online, but nothing seemed personal enough and you had zero ideas. Sighing, you closed out of the tabs and stared at the photo of yourself and Seulgi that served as your home screen photo. Just as you were about to put down your phone, a text came in.

-I’m so boreddd - Yeri

You looked at the text, and an idea hit you.

-Wanna help me with something?

-Depends on what that something is. Is it fun? - Yeri

-I want to ask Seulgi out and I need help.

-Finally, oh my god. Hell yeah I’ll help you! - Yeri

Two days later, you stood in Red Velvet’s quiet practice room, with all the members but Seulgi standing in front of you and the lights dim. Your heart was pounding inside your chest and your palms felt sweaty, and you were pretty sure you’d never been his nervous in your life.

“She’s going to love is,” Yeri assured you, grinning widely.

“I hope so,” you replied, looking down at the signs now laying on the ground and the small box that held the gift you’d picked out for her, wrapped immaculately.

“Let’s go over the plan again,” Irene said, clapping her hands together, “we sent a text to Seulgi telling her that we need to do some extra practice so she’ll come here. When she gets here, she’ll come in and turn on the lights, at which point she’ll see us holding the signs asking her to date you. And then you’ll appear from behind us with your present and officially ask her out.”

“Then boom, happy ending!” Joy said, bounding slightly on her feet.

“Hopefully.”

“Listen,” Wendy said, putting an hand on your shoulder, “you guys have been flirting with each other for years, she really likes you. I know she’ll be happy.” You smiled at her and opened your mouth to thank her, but Yeri interrupted you.

“She just sent me a text that she’s here. Everyone into position!” You reached down to quickly grab the present and ducked behind them as they grabbed their signs, swallowing thickly and trying to calm yourself down. Seconds seemed to drag by like hours as your heart climbed into your throat.

And then it happened. The door opened, and the lights turned on.

Seulgi stood in front of the doorway as the door closed behind her, frozen in place with her eyes darting around the room.”

“What is this....” Her voice trailed off as she began to read the signs, and as her eyes moved to the last sign, you cleared your throat. The girls parted, and although you’d practiced what you were going to say over and over the past few days, your mouth dried out at the sight of her. Her eyes met yours, and although there were butterflies in your stomach that made your legs shake, you forced yourself to take steps forward, one after another, until you were standing in front of her.

“Seulgi,” you started, voice wavering ever so slightly, “I’ve liked you for almost as long as I’ve known you. And since you’ve become famous and busy, I’ve realized that I never want to live without you, because having to live without you is terrible. So, Seulgi, would you give me the pleasure of dating you?” Her eyes had started tearing up almost as soon as you’d started, but now she was smiling widely too.

“(Y/N), I’d happily date you. I’m so glad you asked.” You broke into a relieved smile, feeling like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders as the girls cheered behind you, and handed her the present.

“For you.” She took it and carefully unwrapped it to open the box. Then her eyes began to tear up again and she laughed.

“Of course you’d somehow know that I’ve been wanting to buy this necklace.” Laughing with her, you lifted the jewelry from the box and clasped it gently around her neck.

“I guess it’s just intuition from knowing you for so long.” She leaned her head forward until her forehead rested against yours, and for a second, your heart stopped.

“I really, really like you, (Y/N).”

“I really, really like you too, Seulgi.”

#red velvet #seulgi #red velvet scenario #red velvet scenarios #seulgi scenario #seulgi scenarios #red velvet seulgi #girl group scenarios #girl group scenario #kpop scenario #girl groups

122 notes · View notes

queerbaitingjuce · 6 years

Text

Metamorph - Chapter 2 - Part One

((If you want to read it on Archive Of Our Own, here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15817548/chapters/37052751))

August, 27 – 8.02pm

John, it’s Bruce. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call; I was working on... something. Where are you? Are you safe?

‘Where are you hiding? Are you getting into trouble?’

August, 28 – 10.38am

Hey, John. I don’t know if you’re getting these messages, but when and if you do, can you call me back? Or at least pick up the phone?

‘You need to contact me so I know you haven’t gone back on our agreement.’

August, 28 – 6.56pm

John, you know you can stay with me, right? I have over 100 guest bedrooms. I wanted to ask you before, but... Never mind. Do you have somewhere else to go? Call me back.

‘I need to keep an eye on you.’

Sitting on a roof, a shattered brown slant like the slope of naked hill, in the putrescent heart of Gotham, John listened to the voicemails Bruce had left on his phone over the past two days, reading what he perceived to be between the lines as he practically whitened (more) with irascibility – his eyes seemed to unattractively bulge against the colour of his skin, he saw disinterestedly; he was looking lividly into a spreading rain puddle expanding next to him, groping desperately for his already chilled, nerveless fingers. His knuckles popped as he clenched his hand around his phone, thinking involuntarily about how he had always compared Bruce’s eyes to water painted by moonlight, or rain splashed against an oval of pavement: they were silver and rippling, and he always managed to drown in them. He turned away from the thought now – and, as he literally turned, saw a dark figure, hunched against the rain, sliding his way through the street, looking like an ink-dot in the near distance. John could see he was willowy and dressed finely, all gilded buttons and expensive black material, and he felt a pang. It was Bruce; he knew it was; he was as familiar as the back of his hand; John had a violent flashback to the first time he’d observed the way Bruce walked, all trained grace despite his height and muscle. He had a knack for showing up whenever John was pensive about him, like he was now, typically when he was troubled and the sight of him crumpled his insides like deflated balloons.

Part of him wanted to run up to him and throw his arms around him with buckling enthusiasm – he wondered if he smelt good in the rain. He’d only held his best friend once what felt like an eternity ago, and it had felt as good as he’d always thought it would, even if the gesture had been somewhat brief and somewhat one-sided. Bruce’s heartbeat was the most steady thing in John’s life – slow, rhythmic, strong, powering on like a great race horse. But he wouldn’t and couldn’t, not while he was still a temple for this rotten rage inside him. He was always unpredictable when he was like this; this was the same irrational rage he’d schlepped during his brief time as The Joker, revived from an ember of anger that had been caused by something, quite frankly, not worth a killing spree over, that had inexplicably smouldered into a flame he couldn’t control.

I can’t lose control again. He’d never forgive me. There has to be an explanation for this – insecurity, just like before.

John told himself this vehemently as he dropped from the roof, jarring his knees. If Bruce heard, who was a respective distance away, he didn’t turn. The rain was shedding ruthlessly on Gotham, like she was weeping despondently for John’s internal suffering, and it rattled hard against the pavement, choking up the grates. The tarmac rivers – endless city sidewalks twisting and turning whenever he faced – that flanked him were blackened by dampness as he picked his way across them, his hands in his close-fitting jacket, towards Bruce’s quickly receding figure. He tailed him with graceful succession and predator watchfulness until he walked past an alleyway, when he grabbed Bruce by the shoulder, feeling him tense under his hand, and pulled him into the alley, into a yawn of gaping darkness.

Something – an elbow, a fist, a foot, a knee, he didn’t see which – jammed into his stomach, and he gagged, hunching over. He felt something, presumably an elbow, assault his back, and he buckled, sprawling and eating grit, spitting and swearing. Belatedly, he realised how stupid it was to grab Bruce Wayne of all people without warning him first, and, feeling sorry for himself, he spat blood. Oh well. It was too late now.

Importantly, to his own credit, he didn’t retaliate, involuntarily or otherwise.

“John?” Pushing his wet hair out his eyes – his hood had fallen back during the assault – Bruce stared at him in astonishment, looking uncharacteristically unarmed. John feared for a moment it was the strange man from Arkham, because that was the only other time he’d seen him stripped of his defences, but the guard came back up with a snap, and the vulnerability dashed away simultaneously until there was nothing left but a blank slate. He blinked as he observed chidingly, “You grabbed me.”

John got up slowly, flexing his sore muscles. Pain thrummed through him, slow but sure, like the beat of a separate heart. One thing John had always given Bruce credit for was his ability to fight and defend – but only when he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. Sniffing sourly, he bristled, “I didn’t expect you to get physical!”

“Sorry.” Bruce didn’t sound very sorry. He looked a little dazed. Actually, he looked almost entirely out of it, like John had interrupted something of significant importance and personal impact – or like he was intoxicated. His hand was curled tightly around something, his veins standing on end.

Driven by some unknown, buried compulsion, a voice in his head that whispered between the littered web of his shattered thoughts, he backed Bruce up against the slick alley wall, who took in a sharp inhalation of breath in surprise but, surprisingly, allowed it (allowing it simply meaning he didn’t dig his elbow into his jugular but stared at him in favour) – John almost took a surprised breath himself. He caged Bruce between his arms, his hands flat against the wall, and felt heat rolling off him in tangible waves, his steady heartbeat beating slowly under his.

Bruce wasn’t alarmed. Good to know.

Their height difference didn’t matter. Somehow, John managed to feel inches taller than he actually was, and Bruce seemed suddenly a lot smaller. Though he wasn’t alarmed, tepid confusion glittered in the billionaire’s eyes.

“Your voicemails-” John broke off, trying to string together words that could explain the inexplicable, blistering crest of anger marring his stomach lining. The words wouldn’t come. Ineloquently, he moved his mouth with no ramification as Bruce stared at him with stretched patience, awaiting the return of his eloquence. Doctors aside, Bruce had always been the most patient person in his life. “Well,” he diverted lamely, “I’m here now.” His voice sounded slightly sulky in his ears. “So you can keep an eye on me.”

Bruce’s eyebrows drew towards the centre of his forehead. He didn’t keep eye contact – he had difficulty with that, too, just like he had problems with expressing himself – as he said, questioningly, “John, you don’t... you don’t think I’m trying to keep tabs on you because of... because of Joker, do you?”

John was baffled. “Well, aren’t you, bu – Bruce?”

“No. I was... concerned about whether you had a place to stay, John. That’s all. And I wanted – want – you to come live with me, if you have nowhere else to go. You’re good company, John.”

“Oh.” John didn’t know what to do with this information. It was so far from what he’d been mulling over, and the contrast gave him an almost panicky, frustrated feeling to have to reassemble what he thought he knew. Giggles bubbled up his throat hysterically. He had to turn away and wrap his arms around himself. He didn’t want Bruce to see him like this – vulnerable. Bruce was never vulnerable, so John felt ashamed to succumb to something his best friend rarely ever had.

Bruce’s hand on his shoulder steadied him. His hands were, in society, imperfect – scarred and pale, they were the hands of a criminal boxer, not a billionaire playboy. But with one touch, John felt the panicky, frustrated feeling quell softly. “Take your time, John,” he finally prompted as John turned to look at him.

“I’m okay.” Clenching and unclenching his fists as he breathed to make absolutely sure, John smiled. He was sure. He was calm again, and how strange was that? Human contact could do what Arkham medicine, most of the time, couldn’t. No, that was too broad of a term, ‘human’ – Bruce’s contact. “Thanks, buddy.”

“No problem, John.” Bruce backed up, putting a respectful amount of space between them again. John felt the loss like it was physical; the shoulder where his hand had once rested felt sizzled out. “What are you doing out at this time of night?” If he was suspicious, it didn’t show, but, regardless, John dug his nails into his palms meditatively.

“Oh, you know – clearing the old cog wheel.” John tapped his temple with his right index finger before lifting his other hand unceremoniously. He unfurled it like a ripe flower, revealing, infused with his palm – he’d held it tightly – a memory card, sheened thinly by a fine layer of dust. “What’s this?”

Bruce opened his own hand where the memory card had once sat, looking – well – startled was the closest word for it. He blinked as he clenched and unclenched his hand, like he was testing to see if the memory card would materialise back into his hand, proving John was holding something different entirely, before he looked back at him. “How did you do that?”

“You didn’t answer my question, Bats.”

Bruce sighed, turning his head away. He stared out the alley as a white car, stained by – something – glissaded down the frosty road, flashing their broken headlights sporadically ahead of them. He said nothing about the car like he’d expected him to as a subject change; instead, he explained everything – the gala, the creature, what it had said about ‘wronging’ him, the memory card, the computer errors, and, finally, Alfred’s ingenious, basic idea to buy a camera that matched the memory card. It looked like a strange memory card, though, nothing John had ever seen, and in Arkham he’d liked to tinker with things like broken phones and dead cameras as one of his activities all the time – he’d dealt with plenty of memory cards before.

“How you wronged him?” John frowned, holding the memory card to the light, which was actually just a thin ribbon of moonlight peeking into the alley. “Buddy, you don’t think it was something your father did, do you?”

Bruce shook his head slowly, but his eyes were far away. He shoved his hand through his hair, mussing the onyx locks attractively. They almost seemed to blend into the darkness. He said tightly, “I don’t know. The way he looked at me – John, it was personal. But I’ve never – I’ve never wronged someone before, not to the degree of exacting revenge. Well... apart from you...”

“Well,” John reasoned calmly, “we just need to play his game, don’t we? Put the puzzle pieces together to find a sweet treat at the end. Then we’ll know.”

“We?” Bruce sounded carefully blank.

John slitted his eyes. “Yes, we! I’m now working with you, buddy. You know, Bruce and John, John and Bruce, a team. We can take him down together!” At Bruce’s unconvinced look, he wheedled, “He tried to manipulate me, you know. Don’t I deserve to be a part of this?” And his eyes flicked to the mouth of the alley. It would take two seconds to dart away at a running speed if he answered the next question wrongly. Maybe, if he had the element of surprise on his hand, he’d be able to keep to the shadows and lose him. But Bruce was the shadows, and the idea sounded daunting. But he’d outrun him in the past, hadn’t he? He didn’t have much strength, but he did have speed. “Don’t you trust me, Bruce? After everything you said, after everything we agreed on, you still don’t-”

“John,” Bruce exhaled, deflating – he really did look like a popped party balloon, which spawned the image of a pink helium balloon shaped as a bat; John almost giggled. “Of course I trust you.”

John blinked, startled. “You – You do?”

“Yes. I... I do believe you’re trying.” Bruce sounded tentative. A burst of sweet warmth, like his blood had been replaced with hot chocolate, adulterated his veins, making him feel unhealthily feeble. “Whatever that is worth... But... I like to work on my own.”

John stepped closer. He wanted to reach out and touch him so badly he ached, and now he was close enough to, not that he dared. “It can be a new experience,” he coaxed imploringly. “Dr Leland is always telling me to try new things – it keeps us refreshed spiritually.”

“This could be dangerous, John. I wouldn’t forgive myself if you got hurt.”

Sentimental pain prickled his heart, like the thorn of a rose piercing his skin. Now the urge to touch him was beyond aching – it was agonising. “I won’t, buddy. I’m stronger than you give me credit for.”

“I know you’re strong.”

John blinked. “You do?”

“Of course I do. Not just physically, but emotionally. You’ve bore the brunt of a lot of shit, John. But...”

John decided, if he allowed it, Bruce would list off infinite reasons why working together was a bad idea, apparently none of which being brittle trust. So, he turned on his heel and phlegmatically sauntered out the alley, a surprised Bruce hot on his heels. “This memory card is strange, buddy,” he observed. “I’ve never seen one like it.”

“Do you know anything about them?” Bruce asked, recovering, as he fell into step beside him.

#batjokes #juce #juce fanfiction #telltale juce #batman telltale #batmanxjoker #jokerxbatman #johnxbruce #brucexjohn #batjokes fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

bokura-no-ua · 7 years

Photo

Inktober - Day 14: Fierce

Characters: All Might (Yagi Toshinori), Ashido Mina, Uraraka Ochako, Yaoyorozu Momo, Hagakure Tooru, Asui Tsuyu, Jirou Kyouka, Eraserhead (Aizawa Shouta), Midnight (Kayama Nemuri), Present Mic (Yamada Hizashi), Nezu Rating: G Other Tags: U.A. Teachers are all dorks who like teasing Aizawa a little too much, All Might is a good friend, All Might Being Soft, Aizawa likes cats, Animal hoodies

Art by Kumi and story by Red. Read it on AO3! Please, do not repost anywhere.

Toshinori was walking down the halls of U.A., feeling content after a hard day’s work.

The students were progressing really well, slowly getting the hang of controlling their quirks and using the environment to their advantage. It was incredibly satisfying to witness.

He was just about to turn a corner to head to the teacher’s lounge for a cup of tea before sitting down to write some reports on what exercises his students had engaged in earlier that afternoon when he heard excited voices inside the 1-A classroom.

He frowned. He thought all of them had already gone to the dorms for the day.

“Okay, so does everyone have one?” Toshinori recognised young Ashido’s cheerful voice rising above the others’.

“No,” young Uraraka replied. “Bakugou-kun’s hasn’t arrived and Iida-kun hasn’t even bought his yet. Apparently, he can’t seem to choose between a kangaroo and a bear.”

“But wasn’t the bear one taken already?” young Asui asked all of a sudden.

“I think Tsuyu-chan is right. Isn’t Kouda-san’s a bear?” Young Yaoyorozu’s chimed in.

“Let’s go back and sort this out,” young Jirou offered, putting an end to the discussion.

Toshinori heard shuffling and the scraping of chairs being pulled back in place and he ran to the corner to hide. He couldn’t have any students see his true form, after all. If they found out he had been eavesdropping on a group of female students’ private conversation, the situation could escalate rather quickly.

Despite the fact that they were going the opposite direction, their voices still carried down the large, empty hall.

“Could someone explain to me how this whole kigurumi sleepover thing came to be?” young Hagakure asked the group.

“Oh, right, you were sick after playing around in the rain a week ago and had to miss a few days of class!” young Uraraka commented.

“Yes, Ojiro-kun hasn’t stopped teasing me since.”

“Well, if you really want to know...” young Yaoyorozu started, only to be interrupted by young Ashido.

“It was his idea in the first place!” A few gasps were heard, but young Ashido continued unabashed, “What? She deserves to know, don’t you think? Especially since it was all a plan to cheer her up!”

“Oh my goodness, Ashido-san! You shouldn’t have said anything! Ojiro-san went through so much trouble to try and keep the real reason a secret!” young Yaoyorozu said.

“She was going to find out sooner or later, but I’m sure she’s happy to know. Right, Hagakure-chan?”

Their voices were becoming faint so Toshinori knew he was in the clear when he heard them going down the stairs.

He breathed a sigh of relief. That had been a close call. He should really be more careful in the future.

As he glanced around the hall, he decided to just forego the cup of tea at this point and made his way to his own room, ready to tackle the long list of reports he needed to write by the end of the week.

But, however hard he tried to focus, his mind kept going back to the girls’ conversation.

What were they talking about? It seemed to be about animals at first, but then they mentioned some kigurumi?

After a few minutes of pointless staring at the mostly empty document on the screen of his laptop, Toshinori gave in and opened a new tab on his browser.

He quickly typed the word he thought he had heard and was met with thousands upon thousands of, mainly, retail shops which sold these sorts of… onesies with hoodies?

The more he scrolled down the first few sites in the list of results, the more he understood what his students meant. The designs were definitely cute and he certainly saw the appeal of being wrapped up in such cozy-looking fabrics. He could easily see himself sleeping in one of these.

His eyes were drawn to the fourth site on the list, though. This one sold only feline-related designs and there was even a “create your own kigurumi” option at the bottom of the page.

He hesitated for a couple of seconds, mouse hovering on the tantalising link, before clicking on it.

Just to see what it’s all about, he tried to convince himself.

All excuses went out the window as soon as he saw the colour wheel on the side, really. There were over two dozens of fake fur options, ear styles, tail with and without fur. The list seemed endless.

His eyes became glassy as he read every single item on the customisable list.

Without wasting another second, he started creating his very own kigurumi, seeing what worked well with what.

Needless to say, he never came back to the open document to write the reports.

Those could wait. Fashion could not.

To say that Toshinori was disappointed when his delivery arrived two weeks later would be an understatement.

Apparently, he had made a mistake in his order. When he was customising away the other day, he had clicked on the option of “hoodie” thinking the kigurumi wouldn’t have one if he didn’t.

But no. It meant that the design he had created got made into an actual, regular-sized hoodie instead of a kigurumi.

He had been so excited about it! When he calculated when the order would be delivered and realised the timing would be just perfect for Aizawa-kun’s birthday, he had spent an extra hour designing one for him, too.

And to think Aizawa-kun would’ve probably loved it. Toshinori had chosen a panther because he knew how much Aizawa-kun loved all cats, big or small, but also because it was the animal Toshinori associated with him the most.

The panther was stealthy, always lurking in the shadows, waiting for its prey to appear, which, to Toshinori, it was pretty much what Eraserhead did for a living. He was well-known for being a night patrol kind of hero, unlike Toshinori himself.

He sighed. It would have to do since he didn’t have enough time to order another one.

When Kayama-san approached Toshinori and told him the principal had organised a little something for Aizawa-kun’s birthday the next day, he was absolutely delighted.

Since November 8th ended up falling on a Wednesday this year, the get-together was really just a little dinner party over at the principal’s house.

Aizawa-kun was probably going to hate being the centre of attention, but Toshinori was sure his present was going to bring him some happiness at least. Maybe Toshinori could even get a smile out of him.

When all the teachers arrived and started preparing everything to surprise Aizawa-kun, they all agreed how hard it had been to shop for him and chatted about what they had ended up buying.

Toshinori refused to say anything about his purchase and couldn’t help but smile at his colleagues complaints as he set the table.

When Aizawa-kun arrived and they all jumped from behind the many pieces of furniture in the living room to scare him, his expression remained as stoic as ever.

“Would it kill you to act even the tiniest bit surprised?” Yamada-kun complained loudly.

“Why would I? You do this every year,” Aizawa-kun argued, his face showing signs of tiredness as always.

Nezu, perceptive as ever, suggested they had dinner first and opened presents later, so as to save Aizawa-kun from being the centre of attention for such an extended period of time.

And so they sat and chatted as they ate, everyone exchanging funny stories and things that had happened both inside and outside the school thse past couple of weeks.

It was a rather relaxing environment to be in, abandoning whatever worries he had at the door and just being with them like this, not as teachers or pro heroes, but as friends.

After a few more complaints from Yamada-kun, Aizawa-kun sighed in defeat and finally stood up and walked to the coffee table, where all of his gifts were waiting to be unwrapped. He took a seat on the sofa and opened box after box silently.

They all quickly gathered around him, getting excited in spite of the fact that Aizawa-kun’s features remained the same as he thanked everyone for their generosity. The only reaction was that of a raised eyebrow at the final box on the pile, Toshinori’s messy handwriting wishing him a happy birthday a clear contrast with the beige wrapping paper he had chosen.

He knew everyone expected something flashy from him, but he could dial that down for somebody else’s sake. This wasn’t about him; it was about Aizawa-kun, who was currently throwing the dull-looking paper on the floor with the rest and about to take the lid off the box.

At first, he said nothing as his gaze finally landed on the hoodie. But when he took it out of the box and saw the ears and the little detail of a paw on the zipper, his eyes widened in genuine surprise.

“Is this…?” Aizawa-kun started asking and raised his head, whatever he was about to say dying on his lips because, in that moment, Toshinori put on his own lion hoodie on.

“I got the idea when I overheard some students talking about kigurumi. Do you know what they are?” To which Aizawa-kun just nodded. “Good. Well, I wanted one, and then realised your birthday was just around the corner and thought, ‘Aizawa-kun would love a panther design!’ But then I made a mistake with the order and then, as you can see, it looks more like a regular black cat than an actual panther, and-”

Toshinori had a whole speech ready in apology for his silly mistake when Aizawa-kun stood up from the sofa, taking off his own jacket and replacing it with the gift Toshinori had given him.

Aizawa-kun was silent as he changed, but they all heard the words left unsaid: I love it, thank you.

Toshinori stood in awe, happy that his gift had been so well-received. Then, Kayama-san got her phone out, motioning for him to stand closer to Aizawa-kun, who was taking a closer look at the little paw.

“Hey, why don’t you pose for the camera? Make a little roar motion with you hand or something!” Yamada-kun suggested and, surprisingly, Aizawa-kun complied - although his expression did not change in the slightest.

Toshinori got near, thinking that Aizawa-kun had heard him and copied the pose with both hands, a happy smile on his face. Kayama-san snapped quite a few photos, babbling about how she would love to post them online. She still shared them in the chat group they had, their phones beeping and vibrating with notifications at the same time.

Just as Aizawa-kun took his phone out to look at the pictures, Toshinori approached him from behind and placed his arm around his shoulders. What Toshinori didn’t realise was that Aizawa-kun had no idea he was standing there and almost dropped his phone when he felt Toshinori’s heavy hand landing on his shoulder.

So, yeah, maybe Aizawa-kun was expecting the party all along but the accompanying yelp and look of pure horror he got from Toshinori’s unexpected surprise was just the best reaction they could’ve asked for.

#Aizawa Shouta #Eraserhead #Yagi Toshinori #All Might #BnHA #Boku no Hero Academia #My Hero Academia #Inktober #Day 14 #our art #our stories #DON'T THEY LOOK FIERCE?#I love them so much

53 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

The Fandom from Hell 1&2/2 (Trixie/Acid) - Spoky

A/N: First time trying to write Acid Betty and got some help with that from the wonderful Lucy. Her Thorcid is perfect, it’s beautiful, it reads like Linda Evangelista and I totally use her characterisation as a model. You can blame Dandee for chapter two being a thing and that I ended up posting this here.

Summary: RPDR fans have a problem with Acid Betty. Little do they know that it’s Trixie who has to deal with the aftermath.

The Fandom from Hell, ½

Trixie was sitting at the living room sofa, restringing her guitar, when a quiet click of the front door stirred her from her thoughts. The silence was suspicious.

“Jamin?” she called out and placed the guitar carefully on the coffee table.

There was no reply but she could hear someone moving in the apartment.

She’d gotten used to the different sounds of New York this week, and even learned to embrace Acid’s over enthusiastic greetings whenever the man got home from work. It wasn’t that Trixie didn’t like being cuddled, kissed and complimented. She just hadn’t expected Jamin to be that type of person and it had taken some days to get used to it. Before this week’s visit their relationship, if one could call it that, had consisted of quick blowjobs in different backstage toilets, dressing rooms and hotels - places and situations where Jamin’s character hadn’t necessarily been presented in the most positive or comprehensive ways.

“Jamin?” Trixie called again, now starting to wonder what to do if someone had actually broken into the apartment.

The bathroom door closed and Trixie could hear the tab being turned on. Either this thief had a complex case of OCD, or it really was Acid in the bathroom. She walked to the door and knocked gently.

“Hey, you okay?” she said and hoped that if there really was an OCD-thief in the apartment, they weren’t carrying a gun.

She could hear the thief clearing their throat before revealing their identity as Trixie’s… boyfriend? She wasn’t sure the label was appropriate but it would have to do.

“Hey! Yeah, I’m good. Just, just give me a minute alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” Trixie said and worried her lower lip. What had happened?

She listened the water running for what felt like hours but more likely was closer to a minute or two. When Jamin finally stepped out from the bathroom he was smiling widely, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes.

“There!” he said with a bright tone. “All done. Dinner?”

He walked straight into the kitchen, without giving Trixie the usual greeting hug or a kiss; both being gestures Trixie now realised she had grown accustomed to and wanted. She followed his steps with a suspicious frown.

“Yeah, I could eat,” she said and leaned to the kitchen counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “How was work?”

“Oh, it was great!”

Jamin launched into an explanation about their newest website client who seemed open for new, innovative solutions in regards to design.

“The possibilities are endless, there are so many different layers we can work with. We tried it with AJAX and it looks so good! Though, it makes more sense for it to be more of a CMS type of solution, but it was like stacking four pairs of 24 millimeter lashes and making sure it still works, you know?“

Trixie found it adorable how Jamin would move between makeup and coding lingo, when he talked about his work. Though she hoped that the man wasn’t doing it in his office with customers. The fact that Trixie was struggling to make sense of what Jamin was actually saying allowed her to pay more attention to the man himself and as he very discreetly wiped away a tear that had escaped, pretending just to scratch his nose, Trixie took notice.

“Hey’hey’hey,” she said gently, pushed Jamin against the stove and forced him to look at her. “What’s going on?”

Jamin swallowed and refused to meet her eyes.

“It’s nothing,” he said quietly.

“It’s clearly not nothing,” Trixie insisted and took Jamin’s face between her palms, stroking his stubble with her thumbs.

“I think I’m quitting,” Jamin said softly and closed his eyes.

“What?” Trixie asked, completely shocked. “You can’t quit. It’s your company. I mean I guess you could sell it, but…”

“No, I mean drag,” Jamin said, peeking at Trixie between his lashes.

“Why would you do that?” Trixie asked, but had already a list of possible answers in her mind.

Jamin was silent, clearly not wanting to elaborate on what had happened.

“Look, honey, you do drag for you, not for anyone else,” Trixie said and knew that the statement wasn’t entirely true. Drag was there to be looked at, there was no art without an audience. That didn’t mean the art needed to please everyone, or anyone for that matter. “It’s your art. It’s your way to express your feelings and your views, and if someone doesn’t like it, they are allowed that opinion, but their opinion doesn’t define you, or your art.”

Jamin pulled Trixie closer, wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his chin against her shoulder.

“I know.”

“I know you know. You just forgot for a moment.”

They stayed in the hug for a while longer but eventually Trixie sighed.

“Look, I’m hungry. I want food, I want to finish restringing my guitar and I want your cock up my bum – preferably, but not necessarily, in that order. What do you say?”

Acid chuckled against Trixie’s neck and pressed an open mouthed kiss onto her collarbone.

“I’ll cook, you go string and I’ll see what we can do about the last part later,” he said, squeezing Trixie’s bum with both hands.

“What an excellent distribution of labour,” Trixie smirked and kissed Jamin hard before walking back to the living room.

Somedays RuPaul’s Drag Race fans really fucking sucked, but fortunately the damage they caused was often easily fixed with a brief reality check.

_____________

The Fandom from Hell, 2/2.

[ Lyrics from Big Bang - Sober ]

Trixie stirred from her sleep and the digital alarm clock on the nightstand informed her it to be just over the witching hour. 4:15AM.

She turned on the bed, intending to reach for Jamin, but found only wrinkly sheets and a missing pillow. Brushing her hand across the empty space, she wondered whether to try to fall back asleep or to get up and find him. He was probably just in the bathroom.

Sighing, she fell on her back and kicked away the too hot duvet. Eyeing around in the dark and lying in the still a little unfamiliar bed felt absurd. Almost as absurd as giving it a go with someone like Acid Betty.

Trixie had been sleeping in Acid’s bed for a week now and would be sleeping another one if everything went well. Everything had been “going well” so to speak, but she didn’t really know what to think about the overall situation. Katya didn’t think the relationship could work on the long run, and neither did Kim. Truthfully, Trixie was a little doubtful herself. Jamin Ruhen was nothing alike with the ideal boyfriend Trixie had imagined she would catch feelings for. She probably wouldn’t have given the man a chance at all without Bob’s offhand comment:

“Can’t be weirder than the Zamo-Chachki dynamic, and what I’ve heard, the sex should be at least as good. Maybe less kinky, though.”

In Trixie’s books less weird than the Zamo-Chachki tryst was a good thing – fucking freaks – and so she had agreed to a date; one night in L.A. One night, which had been followed by breakfast and lunch, and eventually a second dinner, as Trixie had been introduced to the gentle and occasionally surprisingly insecure man behind the facade of Acid Betty.

Trixie had slowly learned that while Violet Chachki came across as a bitch because she was, and owned it; Acid Betty came across as one because attack truly was the best defence, and occasionally because the man spoke before thinking. What Violet and Acid had in common was that neither was incapable of apologising or admitting that they were wrong, if given the chance to do so.

Trixie glanced at the alarm. 4:19AM.

* *

Stop acting like you’re all that You’re actually the most pathetic Yeah, try to provoke me even more So I can have some fun for a moment

Acid stared at the Barbie doll across the room and took another sip of his PBR. Just in jeans and a red t-shirt Trixie Mattel didn’t look nearly as intimidating as in her usual pink glad rags and war paint. That didn’t equate that he now thought her approachable, quite the opposite. He would probably never think Trixie Mattel in terms of “approachable”, and could only blame himself for that. He’d totally fucked up with the stunt he’d pulled at Untucked. What an earth had he been thinking?

“I’m just going to assume that you have managed to flawlessly execute the “Begging for Barbie’s Pardon” -plan and rather than avoiding Trixie, are hiding in this corner because of a persistent race-chaser with an awful acne.”

Acid flipped Bob the finger, unamused.

“No?” Bob asked and laughed loudly. “Honestly, avoidance might be the best tactic. You could never keep up with her wit and would just make a fool out of yourself, again. Better not to risk it,” Bob continued and took a seat at the table.

“Why are you here?” Acid sneered, annoyed.

“To cheer you up! And to take the piss… But mostly to cheer you up!”

Acid snorted and took another sip of his beer.

When he had two weeks ago asked Bob’s opinion whether he should apologise Ms. Mattel in person, rather than just send a text, Bob had howled in laughter. Thorgy had been encouraging and Kim’s advice had been to send the text. Kim had even provided him with Trixie’s personal phone number to do so, but so far Acid had managed to do nothing with it. It wasn’t that he was scared, he just didn’t know what words to use.

“So, how’s the biz?”

Acid glanced at Bob and cocked his eyebrows in question.

“You want to talk about work?” he asked in disbelief.

“No, I don’t. But I don’t know what else to talk about when you’re being like this.”

Acid snorted.

“Look, I appreciate the concern but you don’t have to make dry small talk just to keep me company,” Acid said and stood up.

“I’ll catch you later.”

He left Bob alone and made his way to the smoking area. Some fresh air should clear his head right up.

He stepped outside and was once again reminded of why he rarely visited gay clubs out of drag. There really was nothing worse than feeling self-conscious because of a gaze of a total stranger.

He had just talked himself into going back to the hotel and getting an early night in, when someone called out his name in the crowd. As he turned, he spotted Naomi in the corner with Kim and took a step forward before noticing that the pair was also accompanied by none other than Katya Zamolodchikova. Fuck. His step faltered and while he wanted to, he couldn’t just turn on his heels and walk back inside. Suddenly Bob’s small talk sounded like a very enjoyable alternative.

“Hey girl,” Naomi giggled and Acid could smell the sweet organic scent of the source of Naomi’s happiness. Kim passed the join back to Katya, who offered it to Acid with a smile that revealed nothing.

“Ah, thanks, but I’m just about to head off,” Acid declined politely and watched Katya shrug indifferently.

“Oh, don’t go yet!” Naomi whined and pulled him into an awkward half hug. “Let’s have a drink at least, I haven’t talked to you in ages!”

Acid was about to accept the invitation, but his words died on his lips as he heard a lazy drawl just behind him.

“He’s really sorry, Smalls, but he needs to get going. There’s a senior queens’ reading class tomorrow and he really can’t afford to miss it.”

Acid would recognise the voice of Trixie Mattel anywhere and as he turned, he could watch her walk up to them and cuddle up to Kim with a confident smirk. It was a clear challenge and he wasn’t ready for it. At all. Why hadn’t he just stayed with Bob? He could’ve told him all about the new client who wanted a website in neon green! He knew he needed a witty comeback, but his brain refused to co-operate.

“Yeah, I-um. She’s right, I really should go. I’ll catch you later, Naomi,” he said, turned and started walking back to the club.

“See you later, honey! Call me if you need any help with the alphabet!”

Acid grimaced at the comment and stopped. He might not have been the best reader, especially not under pressure, and would probably never reach the same easy flow with the art as Trixie Mattel, but he did have his moments. He turned back to the group and pulled out his mobile as he walked up to Trixie.

“That’s so generous. So, what’s your number?”

Trixie shot him a completely confused look, but as Acid just kept waiting with his phone out, she eventually blurted out the digits.

“Thanks man, truly appreciate it,” Acid said, pretending to save the number. Then he paused, looked up to Trixie and asked as genuinely as he possibly could: “And what’s your name again?”

Katya and Naomi both shrieked out a laugh and Kim snorted some vodka-coke out of her nostrils. Trixie stared at Acid for a while before also chuckling.

“Not bad,” she said and smiled a smile so fucking beautiful Acid knew immediately that he was fucked. Fucking shit mother-fucker. He really should’ve just stayed inside with Bob.

They say love is good, friendship is good But be warned, the back of your head might be in pain

It was months later and the first time Acid Betty had been booked into the same venue as Trixie Mattel. Jamin was nervous. He hadn’t seen the Barbie since the season eight finale after party and while they had parted in good terms, he was still little unsure of his relationship with her. He hadn’t managed to send her any apologies, or asked for reading help for that matter, and they never interacted on social media like Trixie did with other RuGirls. He just simply didn’t know whether they were friends or not.

Jamin had just started to spray paint Acid onto himself when Trixie arrived to the dressing room with a heavy looking suitcase. He hurried to help her with the door and got a grateful smile as a thank you.

“I need a personal assistant,” Trixie sighed and took a seat at the dresser, next to Acid’s acrylic paint bottles. She glanced over the assemble of colours and then at Jamin who had orange stars running on his collarbone.

“How did you even start with this stuff?” Trixie asked and picked up one of the bottles, examining it carefully.

Jamin was little taken aback by the question. People usually just told him that air-brush guns did not belong into Drag Queen makeup assortment and left it at that. Trixie however showed genuine interest, which he assumed to be purely professional, the doll was a makeup artist after all.

“I saw someone do it and stole the idea,” Jamin said and shrugged. “Most people use makeup paint, but it’s just not bright enough for me, like, at least the brands I’ve tried.”

“Huh,” Trixie shrugged and eyed the gun on the dresser.

“Do you want to try?”

Jamin didn’t know what had possessed him to ask but the excited glow in Trixie’s eyes told him that he’d made the right choice.

“Yes GOD!” Trixie sing-songed and picked up the gun.

Jamin was a little impressed how quickly the Barbie learned the technique. A lot faster than what he himself had back at the day.

After the show, when Jamin was packing up his things, some of the local queens asked Trixie whether she’d like to join them for a night out. Trixie turned to Jamin and asked if he was going.

“I’m not really into the scene,” Jamin admitted. He wouldn’t have minded some trade but hooking up on Grindr was so much easier than hunting in a club. At least on the app you didn’t have to deal with the completely appalled looks when you offered to buy a drink for someone who considered themselves out of your league.

“No? A beer at my hotel bar then?” Trixie asked and took Jamin by surprise the second time that evening.

“Um, yeah. Why not,” he nodded and licked his lips. This was going to be interesting.

Hey doctor doctor, please save me Because I’m about to go insane Stop trying to awkwardly chance the subject It’s hard for me to be sober I can’t do anything

“So you just had a couple of drinks?”

Jamin nodded and watched Thorgy pace back and forth in the kitchen, spatula in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. He might’ve played down the amount of alcohol slightly, but as he didn’t want to admit the number of drinks he’d downed with Trixie even to himself, he certainly wasn’t going to tell the number to Thorgy.

“And then she invited you up.”

Jamin nodded again. The story really made even less sense if one reduced the alcohol variable so significantly.

“And despite that you had an invitation to her room, you ended up sucking her off in a public bathroom and walking off with a throbbing hard on?”

Yes, Jamin nodded in confirmation. That was exactly what had happened, and it had been so fucking hot.

“Why an earth would you not go up to her room?”

Jamin shrugged. He couldn’t explain it either. One moment Trixie had asked him to come up, the second she’d been excusing herself to the bathroom “real quick” and before Jamin had been able to make any sense of the situation, they’d been kissing in the toilet cubicle and Jamin had gotten onto his knees.

Afterwards he’d made multiple contradictory excuses to escape the scene, because in reality, unlike how he was telling the story now, he’d made a mess of himself inside of his boxer shorts. He wasn’t going to tell Thorgy that, or Trixie. Men in their late thirties did not cum just by sucking someone else’s cock, teenagers did.

“So, are you going to see her again?”

Jamin shrugged again. He had no idea and the mere possibility that he’d have to explain his previous behaviour to Trixie was simultaneously absolutely terrifying and mortifying. How did he end up being such a screw up?

I seem like an adult but I’m really a child that’s really tall My young dreams are just faded fantasies My mood is like a vast wilderness

The man moaned underneath Jamin as he pushed into him. So tight. He thrust couple of times before having to stop to readjust his position slightly. Dark, long limbs sprawled on the bed and as Jamin kept pounding into the man, a picture of a country cowboy rose to his mind. It was a little ridiculous how easily Brian Firkus’ smile made him distracted. He really needed to stop jerking off to the pictures he’d found online.

“Oh yeah, give it to me!”

The fantasy was shattered as the man spoke up and rather than finding his begging encouraging, Jamin got annoyed.

“Shut up,” he snapped and knew that he was being a dick.

It took him twice the time and effort to find release.

Get drunk, get drunk, go to heaven After I wake, I’m in hell, I don’t last long I’m like Popeye without spinach The laughter bomb tempts me

It was winter in New York and the only reason Jamin was in the backstage of the comedy club, his cock in between of a pair of lips that still supported a faint trace of pink lipstick, was Trixie’s earlier text message: “The offer still stands.”

It had taken Jamin some time to figure out what the Barbie meant by the cryptic message, but eventually he’d remembered that she had offered to teach him to read.

“Should I bring anything?”

“No. Just be on time.”

As soon as Jamin had arrived, Trixie had pulled him inside the dressing room, locked the door and gotten to work. Jamin appreciated the enthusiasm and as he came into the Barbie’s mouth, he hit the back of his head to the wall and hissed in pain.

“You okay?” Trixie asked whilst getting up from the floor and leaning in for a kiss.

“More than,” Jamin answered with a smile.

He could taste himself on her tongue.

It’s hard for me to be sober I can’t do anything I hate being sober I can’t fall asleep without you

Bob grabbed the bottle from Jamin’s hand and placed it on the floor. It was a tiny miracle that the man hadn’t injured himself on the stairs up to Bob’s apartment. Actually, it was a tiny miracle that the man had been able to walk up the stairs to begin with.

Looking at the passed out figure on the sofa, Bob couldn’t but to wonder if he’d ever fall for someone like that, so hard that he couldn’t handle it. Jamin’s rant about “a friend” who had caught very inconvenient feelings for a colleague hadn’t fooled Bob one bit. After all, he had just couple of months ago witnessed Trixie’s drunken confessions over how weird it was to daydream of a romantic relationship with a guy twelve years your senior and whom you had absolutely nothing in common with. By that point, of course, Bob had already known, amongst most other RuGirls, that Trixie Mattel and Acid Betty had been fucking for months in the broom closets and accessible toilets of every venue they’d been booked in together – and apparently also some they hadn’t.

“Can’t be weirder than the Zamo-Chachki dynamic, and what I’ve heard, the sex should be at least as good. Maybe less kinky, though,” Bob had told Trixie at the time, not thinking it his responsibility to play cupid.

It seemed, however, that the pair was incapable of taking any serious steps on their own, and so Bob decided to play mother hen. Blackmail, bribery and threats formed the holy trinity of parenting and he decided to start with threats, merely because it was the cheapest option. He grabbed a black marker pen, lifted Jamin’s shirt up and wrote to his chest with big block capitals:

“I will ask Tracy Martel out on a date or Bob will spank me.”

Bob later learned that the waterproof marker he had chosen only came off with specific cleaning products. Luckily for Acid, he was familiar with all kinds of tricky art stains.

Without you, I’m still left alone here I’m waiting for you, only believing in you But I’m a fool, no no no

Jamin: Would you like to go out sometime?

Brian: Like, as a date?

Jamin: Yeah.

Brian: Ok.

Jamin: You don’t sound very enthusiastic?

Brian: I’m not.

Jamin: Ok…

Brian: I mean… I think it’s a bad idea.

Jamin: Ok, well, we don’t have to.

Jamin wasn’t going to lie to himself, he was disappointed.

Jamin: You could’ve just said no.

Brian: I didn’t want to.

Jamin had nothing to say to that.

Brian: Can I think it over?

Jamin: Sure.

Jamin stared at the three dots that blinked on his phone screen but Brian didn’t reply him that evening, or even the following day. It took Brian Firkus three whole days to contact him again.

Brian: I’m a prick. Forgive me?

Jamin: No it’s alright.

Brian: You still up for it?

Jamin: The date? Yeah.

Brian: Great. L.A. as you’ll be here next week, right? Dinner?

Jamin: Sure.

It’s hard for me to be sober I can’t do anything I hate being sober I can’t fall asleep without you

* *

The digits on the alarm changed to 4:25 and Brian sighed. He knew he should go check on Jamin, but the bed was so incredibly comfortable and he was tired. He was just about to reach for the night light when the bedroom door opened and Jamin tiptoed in.

Brian watched him place his laptop on the desk before making his way to the bed.

“Whatever you do, don’t touch the duvet. It’s like a fucking sauna in here.”

Jamin startled at the words.

“Jesus, you scared me,” he chuckled and laid next to Brian, sliding his feet underneath the duvet.

“Where were you?” Brian asked, lifting his right arm to make space for Jamin who was inching closer.

“I got this idea for one of Betty’s looks and couldn’t sleep through it,” Jamin said as he snuggled to Brian’s side and wrapped an arm around his chest.

“And you were not reading any of the negativity on Reddit or on your Instagram?”

There was a heavy silence. Brian took a deep breath and placed his hand on Jamin’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“It would be really cool if you could stop lying to me,” Brian whispered and he could feel Jamin tense up. The man was barely breathing, most likely trying to stop existing through mere will power. “I know we haven’t been “a thing” for long, but you know, let’s try not to fuck it up immediately?”

Jamin nodded, but stayed silent for a while.

“I just…”

When he didn’t finish his sentence, Brian turned his head to drop a light kiss on his forehead.

“Didn’t want to reveal too soon that you’re a human being? Trust me, I get it, I’ve made a career out of being a doll from Toys R Us.”

There was another silence and Brian wondered whether he’d ever get used to them, having a tendency to usually surround himself with people that constantly had something to say.

“I’m really sorry about that one time, you know, I really didn’t get the Barbie reference before it was explained to me…”

Brian smiled. It was the first time Jamin clearly addressed the Untucked-fiasco between them. They had danced around the subject before, but never really discussed it. He had personally figured that it was just good television and moved on. He certainly had no issues with it, but apparently Jamin felt like he needed to apologise. It was kind of adorable.

“Oh, hooney! My drag could be based on Mr. Snuffleupagus and you still couldn’t read me!”

The comment made Jamin laugh and Brian pulled him closer. It definitely wasn’t any weirder than than the Zamo-Chachki -dynamic.

________________

[Useless A/N2 that no one asked for, feel free to ignore!! Thanks for reading the fic!!

This fic is a funny one.

I wrote the first chapter as a reply to anon-hate I received on my blog. Trash into treasure, girl.

What happened after, was that I got really intrigued by Acid’s character in the first chapter and when Primary Care won the ‘best multi-chapter’ -fic category on the AQficAwards, I really wanted to write a fic as a thank you for everyone who voted. By then I already had the chapter one written and published on my blog, but didn’t really know how to continue it. Fortunately Dandee sent me a word as a prompt: ‘Snuffleupagus’ – which I thought was stupid and ridiculous. But it actually gave me the idea that Trixie’s drag is based on a doll, a toy and there certainly is Mr. Snuffleupagus toys out there. So I ran with that and added in some Acid character study because that was what I was interested in exploring.

What I want to say by telling you all of this is, we all have reallt random and freaky and sometimes awful reasons and contexts why we write and how we come up with stuff. The most important thing is: Write to yourself. Do not try to please an audience when you offer your art for free, because the audience will move on and nothing will be popular forever. So as long as you love what you do, all is well ~

One author who always inspires me on AQ is Mistress. She doesn’t always get a lot of notes but clearly loves writing, submits a lot and has improved massively from her first ever published fic. So, in case you are a writer that doubts their skill, just remember that we all feel that way about our work sometimes and that writing is art, art where you get better and sometimes stumble, but it all contributes to the project of who you are as a writer.

Love and Glitter,

Spoky

#acid betty #trixie mattel #acid x trixie #fluff #hurt/comfort #the fandom from hell #spoky #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant #rare pair

26 notes · View notes