#you when he gets a peak at your notebook and starts trying to explain stuff to u | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teklarn · 3 years

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𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓹𝓽.4)

character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader (x eijirou kirishima)

a/n: y’all it makes me so happy how many people like my work oh my gosh i’m so motivated when enthusiasm shows tytyty <33

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 !!

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention.

genre: angst

warnings: mutual pining, cussing, aged-up to third years, love triangle, romantic tension, one-sided pining, jealousy, toxic kirishima (ok but like he’s hot tho), slowburn romance, not proofread

word count: 2423

- - -

part 3 , part 5

you twiddled your thumbs in front of the poster. a halloween party? next month? it’d come as a surprise how fast the holiday was coming up.

your stomach filled with butterflies, however, it sunk when you remembered what had happened last night.

the little fight you had with kirishima. how it seemed like he suddenly hated bakugou, who was one of his best friends. you didn’t want to believe that kirishima could have had feelings for you. perhaps he was just protecting you.

you sighed. you truly didn’t want to fight with either of them. maybe kirishima was right. he did know bakugou better than you, but to your knowledge, bakugou had never had a relationship.

maybe kirishima was trying to say that bakugou would be toxic in the sense that he would never pay attention to you. perhaps he would be too focused on becoming the number one hero.

whatever. it didn’t matter now.

the poster listed that it was going to be a costume party, and dressing up was mandatory. you were good friends with mei hatsume from the support group, so she would be going all-out for the season. you wondered if she’d be able to whip something up for you, too.

you had a few minutes left before class started, surely she should be available for a little bit of chatter. besides, mei hatsume never turned down a new project.

turning, you started your way to the support classrooms just to be stopped, come face-to-face with the one person you’d been trying to avoid all day. “i don’t want to talk right now, kirishima,” you snapped. perhaps you were being a bit harsh, but he was the one trying to control you, was he not?

“then don’t talk, y/n. i’ll talk.”

you shoved past him, clutching your books to your chest. “no.”

“just hear me out, okay? last night was...i didn’t mean to seem-”

“seem what? possessive? rude? like an overprotective, jealous boyfriend?”

“in no way was i trying to come across as any of those, trust me y/n.”

you continued on your way to the support classes only to find him standing before you again. You sighed, tightening your grip around your books. “what.” you commanded him, you didn’t ask.

kirishima let out a sigh of his own, letting his arms fall to his sides. “can we just...talk? we’re friends, and we’ve always communicated well with each other.”

“communication was out of the question yesterday, wasn’t it?” you attempted shoving him away to continue on your way, but he caught your shoulder, finger pads digging into your skin possessively.

“please, y/n.”

you looked down your nose at him. “fine. say what you so badly want to get out.”

“listen, i-”

the bell rang, and students went rushing back into their classrooms. you shrugged, victorious. “looks like the bell isn’t on your side either, kirishima.”

you heard him sigh in defeat, but did not look back.

---

there was something about the way kirishima was suddenly looking at you that bakugou didn’t like. at all. his pencil snapped in his grip, chips of wood and led flying into the air.

speaking of kirishima, what was up with him lately? everything was suddenly about you. he was always around you. sure, throughout the years, you two had gotten closer, but kirishima looked just about ready to abandon bakugou’s ass on the side of the road.

as usual, aizawa would be a bit late. in about ten minutes, the man would come wandering in, bags hanging low under his eyes, and instruct the lesson before falling back into his much-needed slumber.

that was when bakugou would interrogate kirishima. but first, he needed to talk to you. needed to be sure he was on the winning side before anything happened between kirishima.

bakugou walked over to your desk, tugging at your sleeve to get your attention.

“hm?” you looked up from your notebook. “yes, bakugou? do you need something?”

“yeah,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “you saw the poster too, right? the one about that stupid dance.”

“well, i don’t think it’s stupid. it looks fun! don’t you think?”

he drowned himself in your eyes. “mhm.”

“so, did you still need something?”

“got any costume ideas in mind?”

you feigned surprise. “katsuki bakugou? are you saying what i think you’re saying?”

he licked his lips. gosh, the way his name rolled off your tongue sounded the way honey tasted. “don’t push it.” he grinned. “still considering it.”

“well, if you’re thinking of going, you definitely should. i’m buying tickets with mina and kaminari if you’d like to tag along.”

“tag along?” he let out a breathy chuckle. “i’ll be the star of the show if i ‘tag along’, you got me?”

you gave him a side smile. “mhm. but you do realize how hectic it’s gonna be there, right? i mean, you’ve got to pick something that...pops, y’know?” your fingers sprung out to add emphasis.

“whether i wear some stupid costume or not, i’m still going to be the star of the show. you got that?”

you knew he was only teasing. if it’d been the bakugou from before, he would have most likely meant it, however, you knew how he openly teased you now. strangely, it was only you who he was so open with.

bakugou smirked, leaning down to raise your chin with his fingers. “i’ll go if you go.”

he had your heart pacing rapidly. “mhm.”

“use your words.”

“yes, i think i’ll go.”

“you think?” he taunted.

“i will go.” you cleared your throat. “bakugou.”

“good.” his gentle fingers let go of your chin and he wandered back to his desk, eyeing you from there for a moment before flicking open a textbook and reading.

you diverted your eyes back to your notebook, hands shaking as you wrote down the date. you scribbled down your name three times in the top right corner just to look busy.

adjusting your elbow, you did your best to make it look like you were merely leaning your cheek on your hand in a bored manner. gosh. you could still feel his eyes burning into you, demanding. serious. gorgeous and blood red.

kirishima was right about you having feelings for bakugou. however you sat there conflicted for a little while.

bakugou had just approached you in a similar manner as kirishima. did kirishima..?

no, you two were only friends.

you shook your head, still doing your best to conceal the stupid grin crossing your cheeks.

everyone knew that telling other people if you were just friends with someone after they asked, one person had feelings for the other at least. it was another thing asking yourself that.

- - -

it was just a week before the dance, and you still had yet to choose a costume. mina and kaminari had offered you a few of the costumes she’d worn at previous halloween parties, but none had appealed to you.

you wanted something fresh. wanted something that you’d feel like you would have fun in.

“wouldn’t dressing up as a pirate be really, i don’t know. i just feel like it’d be super super hot in the gym.”

mina rolled her eyes. “well duh, you look hot in everything, y/n.”

you scoffed. “thanks, but i’m not sure about that.”

“kirishima seems to think so,” kaminari teased from inside the change room. all three of you were currently at a thrift store trying to find matching costumes.

you rolled your eyes, disregarding the fact he couldn’t see. “don’t bring him up. please.”

“what happened between you two?” mina asked, slipping the costume back onto its hanger. she slipped it back into its spot on the rack and began sifting through new clothes. “you guys just suddenly stopped talking.”

you shrugged. “he’s just been...off lately. you know? i don’t know how else to explain it. but ever since that incident where he broke bakugou’s nose-”

kaminari peaked out from the curtain, jaw dropping. “he broke bakugou’s nose?”

you waved him off. “yes, now let me finish. kirishima did this thing where he just...he acted all protective in private and then tried to apologize for it the next day. he kept telling me stuff like bakugou wasn’t good for me and everything.”

mina blinked, jaw dropping to the floor. “honey, what?”

she and kaminari exchanged shocked glances before she popped a hip out and put her fist to it.

“bestie, honey. you really are oblivious, aren’t you?”

you let out an exasperated breath. “he told me that, too! he pinned me to the wall and was like, oh, you’re so oblivious.” you imitated his voice, puffing out your chest to mock his stockiness.

“baby, baby! do you hear yourself?” mina shook you, taking you by your shoulders. “what the heck? are you blind? he’s down bad for you!”

“bad? if he had feelings for anyone, not just me, i think kirishima would be a little more considerate.”

“but it’s bakugou,” kaminari chirped in. “he knows he won’t win if he doesn’t get you now.”

“please, bakugou doesn’t win at everything.”

mina raised an eyebrow. “but you already have feelings for bakugou, so technically he’s already winning.”

you pursed your lips. “i guess, but if kirishima really had romantic feelings for me, he’d be less of an ass about it.”

“is he going to the dance?” kaminari closed the curtain, rustling around to change back into his clothes once more.

“i’m pretty sure.” you began sifting through clothes with mina. “bakugou said he’d go if i went. so i’m guessing kirishima is going to be there, too. bakugou and he are never apart.”

mina slapped her thigh in disbelief. “do you hear yourself, babes?” she wore a stupid grin. “i haven’t seen those two together since...i don’t know, not for the past month. they’re fighting over you, whether you realize it, whether they realize it.”

kaminari let out a false moan. “oh to have those two fighting over me.” he came out of the change room dressed in his own clothes.

“did the costume not fit?” mina asked.

“my fat ass is too fat for it. i’m too hot to be a pirate.” he posed, mimicking aoyama.

“your ass is flatter than a pancake, kaminari.”

you chuckled, but couldn’t help thinking about what mina was saying. as your two friends began chatting away, you lost yourself in your thoughts.

the three of you sat down for dinner at a cheap restaurant. mina and kaminari had bought a matching costume set, and you were still left without one. the two had left for the bathroom, leaving you sipping your own drink alone.

your chest sank into your stomach when a familiar head full of red, the roots beginning to darken, stepped into the restaurant. he ordered what you’d guessed.

he waited for the meal to be prepared for take out, rocking back and forth on his heels and whistling softly.

thankfully, you felt someone rest a hand on your shoulder. you turned, expecting to see kaminari or mina attempting to save you. instead, you found a strange man. he looked to be around your age. you vaguely recognized his face. perhaps you’d seen him around yuuei before.

uncomfortable, you shoved his hand off. “please go away.”

kirishima blinked slowly when his eyes found you. you did not attempt to hide your annoyance.

you wanted to tell both of them to go away as the man started flirting with you. it should be expected. this wasn’t the best place to be hanging out, either.

you heard footsteps rushing up, and soon, a hand clamped around your wrist. you cried out as kirishima pulled you out of your seat.

“do you have an issue?” he demanded, eyes boring into the man’s.

the man licked his lips. “you seem like you have an issue, here.” his words slurred grossly. “we were over here minding our own business.”

“they don’t want it.” kirishima snapped.

“kirishima, i can handle this myself. you tried to shove off his grip. he let go, knowing that this wasn’t truly how he wanted to approach you.

“see?” the man said. “they’re fine.”

“get out of here.”

“kirishima, what’re you-”

the man put his hands up in surrender and wandered out.

you pushed kirishima back. “what the hell?”

“fine. be mad at me, but he was invading your space.”

your brow furrowed. “you’re one to talk! do i need to put some kind of restraining order on you? you keep following me everywhere.”

“not anywhere! this was a coincidence.”

you shook your head. “it’s pointless trying to argue with you. you’re so toxic!”

kirishima tongued the inside of his cheek. “think what you want, y/n. i could see you were uncomfortable, anyway.”

“no, kirishima. i don’t need your saving. i don’t need you to swoop in and pretend like you’re my hero. you’re not. don’t talk to me again unless you’ve grown the hell up.”

as if on queue, the bell rang and kirishima’s packaged dinner was presented in a paper bag. he gave you a good, long hard stare before taking his dinner and leaving.

your chest heaved with anger. you wanted to make him angry. if he felt romantic feelings towards you, you wanted to make him jealous.

you gave mina and kaminari a text that you’d be going home early. it was only a half-lie. you ran to hatsume’s dorm and knocked loudly. she opened the door without hesitation and grinned widely at the sight of you, already knowing you needed something.

kirishima was obviously so damn jealous of bakugou, wasn’t he? mina was right. he wouldn’t be able to compete. and you were going to make sure he knew that.

the blaring lights, the music louder than bakugou’s explosions. students disguised as their favorite characters.

it was hectic, you were right about that.

kirishima stood beside him. they’d both decided to dress in their hero costumes. the tension between them was still unspoken. they felt like strangers.

their eyes scanned the crowd, and bakugou’s landed on you first, kirishima following closely after.

he couldn’t help the warm, victorious feeling in his chest as he glanced to the side at kirishima’s expression.

kirishima’s chest caved in. you’d dressed in...who had made it?

“they’re dressed as...you,” he said, aghast.

bakugou grinned, watching you dance under the lights in your own rendition of his hero costume, that orange x crossing your chest oh-so-nicely.

- - -

tags: (if you want to be tagged in future parts, let me know!!)

@heizenka @misssugarless

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

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Study buddy - Choso

Where oh where can I find a Choso-nii to help me with my studies? Where oh wherefore art thou? Femme reader, 2.1k words

Content warnings: incest, that’s it

“I don’t get it!” You whined loudly to yourself, almost to the point of tears as you sit at the dining table, frustration mounting the longer you stare at the screen of your laptop. There’s too many assignments that you need to finish, too many tests you need to study for - it’s all too much.

“What’s wrong?” As you throw your head into your hands, Choso comes around the corner, having heard your small shout. Looking over the table, swamped with textbooks and stacks of papers, his heart breaks a little for you.

“Go away, Choso-nii.” With your forehead pressed against the table, you don’t have the heart to sit up and look at your older brother.

“Not until you look at me, tell me what’s going on.” Smoothing a large hand across your back, he tried to nudge you to turn to him.

“You wouldn’t get it.” He’d never attended university, having gotten a job as soon as he could to help support the family. It wasn’t like you doubted his intellect, but this issue was out of his range.

He pushed and he pulled, but try as he might Choso couldn’t get you to look at him. He could see the angry scribbles on your notebook pages and the way your breathing was slightly laboured as if you were holding back tears. He didn’t want to push you too hard but he didn’t want you to wallow.

“Get up.” He was wrapping his arms around your middle before you could fully comprehend what it is he wanted, and soon you were forced out of your chair and sat back down onto his lap.

“Lemme go.” Your head still hung low, hands covering your face so you wouldn’t have to look at him and his pitying expression. Choso shook his head, resting his own forehead against your shoulder and squeezing you.

“Is it school? Do you want to take a break?”

“No.” You replied immediately, shrugging his head off and grabbing your pencil again. “I can’t, I have a lot to do.” Forcing yourself to scribble down some more words, you ignored the silence and the sigh that followed from Choso.

“But you’re upset, why don’t you-”

“Just stay out of it!” You snapped, clearly not in the mood to be coddled. Choso wasn’t used to you snapping at him like this and it showed in the shocked raise of his brows.

“Baby girl calm down.” Although he said it softly, there was an underlying edge to his tone. Choso shifted you on his lap, drawing you further up his legs and securing you more tightly in his arms.

“M’not a baby.” You mumbled back, instantly regretting how you spoke to him. All Choso ever did was try and help you, try and make your life just a bit easier; it wasn’t fair to him for you to act this way.

“You’re my baby.” Giving you a kiss on the back of your neck, Choso settled his chin on your shoulder. “Now, are you going to take a break?” He expected it when you shook your head no. “Will you let me help you then?”

“I don’t know, nii-chan...this kind of stuff might be too hard for you.” Handing him one of the pages of homework you had, you bit your lip as he read over it. Choso didn’t exactly have the best track record with schooling, often skipping classes to pick up odd jobs or just to sleep the day away.

“We can work on it together.” Putting it back on the table, Choso plucked the pencil out of your hands and started scribbling down what he thought was the right answer.

“Choso-nii, wait! Not like that!”

“Hm, no?” Cracking a smile, he began to tickle your sides as you snatched the pencil back. “Then how should I do it? Like this?”

“S-stop!” You shouted, giggles forcibly rising from your chest. Desperately trying to grab his fingers and hold them away from your sides, you had no choice but to laugh and squirm helplessly.

After a few minutes he relented, handing you back the pencil and letting you catch your breath. A soft smile stayed on his face as he noticed your mood had improved just from him tickling you, the hard crease in your brow and the frown tugging at your lips were gone now.

“Tell me what you’re working on here.” Gesturing toward your laptop, he saw an abundance of open tabs and a slideshow that was barely started.

“That’s one of my finals, I have to make a presentation.” Slumping against Choso’s chest, you huffed indignantly. Humming to himself, Choso clicked through a few of the tabs. He wasn’t familiar with the subject you were presenting on at all, but surely he could help a little bit?

“Let's work on this one first then, it seems to be giving you the most trouble.”

“They’re all giving me trouble.” Pushing your face into the side of his neck, you didn’t try to stop Choso from tidying up your workspace, tucking papers away into folders and pushing unneeded textbooks away.

Just having the table clear of all the daunting assignments was enough to make a slight weight lift off your shoulders. With no visual clutter, things in your mind slowly started to calm down. From your position leant against Choso, you explained the presentation as simply as possible. He flipped through more tabs as you spoke, reading and falling silent except for a few hums.

“I bet we could get a rough draft done by tonight.” He murmured.

“You think so?” His words gave you a little hope, and the reassuring hug he gave your middle even more.

“With a little sister as smart as you? I know so.” Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, he nodded confidently. He smiled when you smiled at the compliment, taking a hand and rubbing up and down your arm. “Let’s get started.”

As the two of you began to work, both diligently reading over the material, Choso’s hands started to wander. Both arms slid from around your waist, one going to rest around your hips as the other settled just under the hem of your shirt.

“What do you think about putting that quote here?” He whispered, pointing to the screen briefly before putting his hand back, letting his fingers creep up a little under your shirt.

“I could try it.” Unaffected by his hand, you typed away on the keyboard. As you breathed, Choso’s hand pushed up under your shirt entirely, hot palm resting on your stomach. Your hands faltered for a moment, but you didn’t say anything.

Silently typing, you tried to ignore Choso’s hand now fully resting just below your breasts. His hand was stopped by the bra you had on, but not for long. Pressing a kiss onto your cheek, he fully tugged down your bra.

“Nii-chan…” A whining protest was on the tip of your tongue, fingers beginning to curl around his wrist and pull his hand away.

“Sshh, don’t worry about what I’m doing. Focus on your work.” Gently twisting your nipple between his fingers, Choso flicked his chin toward the screen. Biting your lip and nodding your head, you did as he said. He was being nice enough to help you with your homework, it was only fair to let him have this.

Lightly massaging your breast, Choso still managed to be helpful and give critiques, aptly splitting his focus between fondling your chest and helping build the presentation. With soft fingers, he worked both nipples to full hardness and watched as they pebbled and peaked under the fabric of your shirt.

“Choso-nii, here too.” Spreading your legs for him, Choso lets you pull his hand from your shirt and down to your bottoms, past the waistband and over your panties. There’s a good amount of slick built up between your legs, seeping into the fabric of your panties and marking them with a large wet patch.

With his other hand taking the spot on your breast, Choso pushes his hand into your panties. Your legs are thrown open wide for him, body completely relaxed against his as you let him do whatever he wants.

Tapping your clit with his middle finger, Choso chuckles under his breath at the reflexive twitches in your legs. He can’t help but do it a few more times until you let out a whine and wiggle your hips for him.

Circling the swollen bud with the tip of his finger, the high moan that leaves your throat is music to his ears and when he presses down on it more firmly, your thighs immediately snap shut on his hand.

“Excited?” Choso teases in your ear, watching as you shamefully reopen your legs. Rubbing your clit with two fingers now, he can feel your hole clenching around nothing. With how much of your juices are on his fingers, it’s easy for them to slip down and press against it.

Steadily pumping his fingers in and out, Choso worked his fingers down to the knuckle, resting his palm snugly against your pelvis and grazing your clit. You’d fully given up on even pretending to still be working, fully laying on Choso as your hands gripped his sleeves.

Drawing his fingers out, Choso began to slowly thrust his fingers in and out, a soft clapping sound of his palm hitting you beginning to sound throughout the room.

“Shit, Choso!” You gasp loudly when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in tandem with the motion of his fingers. Your thighs threaten to close in on his hand again, quivering on his lap and fighting to stay open.

Soon your hips are bucking up to meet his fingers, quiet pants falling from your mouth and landing on the side of his face. Clutching your breast tightly in his hand, Choso grinds his thumb on your clit, getting a wave of endorphins himself just from hearing you moan.

You quickly lose the battle of trying to keep your legs spread, nearly fully clamping down on his hand and rendering it immobile. Choso doesn’t mind though, he welcomes whatever reactions you have to him and his touch. All he wants to do is make his little sister happy.

“Are you going to cum?” Swallowing thickly around the words, he breaks out into a silly grin when you nod drunkenly. His wrist and hand are starting to cramp up and the muscles in his arm are beginning to burn, but Choso refuses to slow down even a fraction.

“N-nii-chan, please!” Screwing your eyes closed, you arch your back hard, breath coming out shorter and shorter as your orgasm approaches. It’s unclear to both of you what you’re asking for, but you both know it’s not to stop.

“That’s it baby girl, cum nice and hard for me.” Kissing any part of your face he can reach, Choso’s hand doesn’t stop when you let out a loud moan and your cunt spasms around him. He certainly doesn’t stop as your feet stamp against the floor, the pleasure overwashing your senses almost too much for you to handle. He almost can’t bring himself to stop when your body goes slack and you whine at him to stop, the pleasure turning into pain.

Slipping his hand from your bottoms, Choso stares at his fingers covered in your sticky release. There’s thin strands that spread and break when he pulls apart his fingers and the heady musk that comes from them tastes just as good as it smells.

Slowly fixing your clothes and straightening your back, you fully turn over your shoulder to Choso and kiss him as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. You can smell and taste a hint of yourself on his lips, his tongue just barely darting out to swipe at yours.

“I think that was a good break, don’t you?” Choso whispers as he breaks the kiss, giving you a quick kiss on the nose before fully pulling away. He takes a mental picture of the blissed out look on your face and the way an easy, dopey smile spreads on your face.

“Yeah.” Nodding, you lean forward and kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks, nii-chan.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” Helping you readjust your position on his lap, Choso feels his heart swell at knowing he helped you relax, made you feel nice and happy as any good caring older brother should. Pulling your laptop closer, Choso reopened the presentation and skimmed the last few words you’d written. “Now, let’s get back to work, alright?”

#tw: incest #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines

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a-supernatural-writer · 3 years

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hcs for poly! tlb with a fem! s/o who’s style is dark academia and is really blunt/logical and smart. she basically gives off a ‘mysterious, quiet, dark, critical’ vibe (she also doesn’t really know how to handle people who are extremely emotional and she doesn’t know how to soothe someone. she’s just really oblivious/clueless when it comes to others feelings). i’m so sorry if what i requested doesn’t make sense or if it was too much. i am seriously incapable of writing anything without making it look like an essay lmao. love your work btw 💕✨

Dark Academia Fem! S/O

Poly Lost Boys x Fem reader

I had so much fun writing this! I love the dark academia aesthetic! And it made perfect sense and it wasn’t too much! Having a lot actually helps me expand and write more so thank you. And I’m the same, once I have an idea, I write a lot, so you’re all good! And awww!!! Thank you!!! 💗💗✨✨ I really appreciate it! I hope you enjoy!

Okay, so you are very different compared to the large number of characters on the boardwalk. Your style consisted of button shirts, sweaters or turtle necks, dress pants or a plaid pleated skirts, cardigans or waistcoats, oxford shoes or even wire framed glasses if you wore them for seeing or just for the look.

To say that you caught the boys attention would be an understatement. You seemed to stand out amongst the crowd and they became curious. You were a mystery to them and they love the challenge.

Somehow, someway, after days or weeks later, you became good friends which soon lead to you dating four trouble making punks. It was tough on both parts, but it happened, and hey, you weren’t complaining.

You were very blunt when you first met them, not really interested in them and more or less interested in the book in your hands. It took a lot of “accidental” run ins to even get you to hang out with them.

You slowly opened up when they offered to take you out for dinner at a local diner. They’re constant joking soon had you letting out small, almost whisper-like giggles and tiny smiles that sent them into a frenzy.

When you would start talking about yourself, your ideas of fun were different from theirs. You liked museums, opera houses, bookstores and going to theaters to see plays. The games you played were chess and cards, and the music you listened to was old. You were pretty sure they thought you were boring but you actually peaked their interest.

After a while of being friends with them, they asked you out. You liked them and the only logical step was to see if you liked them the same way they liked you was to date them, so you said yes.

In general, them having a girlfriend with a 1940s/1950s dark prep look was fun. David and Dwayne like it the most. Paul next, then Marko.

David actually really likes picking out your clothing on most days. You have an extensive collection of clothing with material from cashmere to linen, all the colors consisting of browns, black, cream and even a little dark green.

His favorite thing to put you in is trench coats. Doesn’t matter what color it is, he just likes seeing you in them. Also, there are a handful of times that he has MADE you wear his trench coat. Yeah it almost swimmed on you, but he thought it made you look cute and it fit in perfectly with your look.

Dark academia isn’t only your style, but it’s your way of life. David is the one that plays chess with you. You had to reteach it to him and pretty soon, the two of you had your own little set up in the cave that was always ready for a game of chess.

David is sort of like you… in a way when it comes to others feelings. But deep down he knows that he really likes you and tries to show it the best he can. He took you to a theater to see a play that you were constantly talking about and so he took you on a date. You being you, didn’t realize that’s what it was until he told it straight to your face. Let’s just say you were speechless for the next hour.

Also, when it’s just the two of you, deep inside the cave where your nest is, classical music is playing from your record player. It could be Beethoven, Tchaikovsky or Mozart. Whoever it is, David is the one that will listen to it with you the most. I think he really enjoys classical music and he enjoys it even more if the two of you are cuddling in your bed.

Occasionally Dwayne would join the two of you. You would be sitting in between David’s legs as Dwayne sat in between yours, his head leaning back against your chest. It was like a cuddle pile… cuddle train?? Whatever you wanted to call it, it was cuddling while the three of you relaxed listening to classical music. And it was darn cute.

Dwayne loves listening to you go on and on about any books you were reading at the moment. Whether or not it was nonfiction or even about any type of history. He was down. He lived through a lot and he knew about half of the stuff you gushed on about, but for some odd reason, it never bored him when you talked about it.

He would be the one to get you new books, leaving you sweet little notes tied to them. Of course you thought it was just him being nice and thanked him for it without thinking there was any romantic meaning behind it. Yeah he was one of your boyfriends but it never really crossed your mind that way. He would just shake his head at your obliviousness and give you a small peck on the lips.

Don’t ask him why, but his favorite look on you is a light cream colored blouse with a plaid skirt and Mary Jane shoes. Dwayne is a leg man so… he’s very happy when decide to show off some skin if you decide not to wear knee-socks or stockings with it. Even if you did wear them, he would still be attached to your side the entire night.

Like David, Dwayne would bring you out to a lot of places that were opened late at night. If there was an art exhibition in town or even a museum that was open late, just say the word and he will happily drive you on his bike. Heck, David might even tag along.

Also, late night bookstore dates… oh my heart, it’s too sweet it hurts. There are times that he does have to throw you over his shoulder when the bookstore is closing and you're pretty much refusing to leave. When he does that, you just stay frozen over his shoulder, not knowing if you should be blushing or cursing at him for carrying you like a sack of potatoes.

If anything, you and Dwayne connect very well. You’re naturally very quiet and so is he. Not much is said between you two but there's a mutual understanding that can’t be explained. While the others are out causing trouble, you and him are on the sidelines watching hand in hand or your reading and he's just staring at you as you do so.

Paul and Marko kind of give you whiplash. They’re loud and rowdy and definitely 100% opposite from you. But they interested you. They had a very chaotic outlook on life which made you ask many questions.

Paul found your look sexy. He’s horny and you give off preppy school vibes, he’s living for it 24/7. Constant teasing of you giving him ‘private lessons’ which results with you whacking a book against the back of his head. But it doesn’t stop the reddening of your ears which doesn’t make him stop.

This man is also your designated jewelry expert. You only wear some accessories and they're very simple. So you are very surprised when Paul finds you jewelry that is your style and collects it for you. You like leather watches, guess what, he’s got it for you. You want some fancy victorian looking brooches, he’s got that too. Simple rings with a single jewel in the middle, expect constant ‘will you marry me’ jokes, but he gets you the best.

Also, he’s not overly big into your music selection. He does try to get you into his type of music, which you only like very few and far between. But when you do get him to listen to your type of music, it’s only if you agree to listen to his music the next night. You guys come up with a system and decide to switch every few nights.

Each of the boys have their favorite look on you and Paul's is when you wear a button-up of any color with a simple black tie, a pencil skirt and a pair of Dr.Marten boots. He especially likes the tie… for reasons. God damn it, you know the reasons, get out of here.

He’s a very affectionate boy and he finds your looks over confusion some of the cutest shit he’s ever seen. Probably the first one to tell you that he loves you and you honestly like glitched out. Did you feel the same way? Yes, but poor little thing you doesn’t say it right away, but Paul knows that you aren’t really used to saying things like that without warming up to it. Which is okay. He knows even if you don’t say it.

He definitely steals one of your blazers to put pins on it. Marko helps, putting a few patches on it that they both know you would like. It’s the one item that stands out in all of your clothing and you will wear it if they ask you to.

Marko definitely thinks the look is cute and it suits you very well, but why no color?! You wear dark colors but nothing bright like the colors that are on his jacket. He tries to slip in some colorful clothing into your everyday look, it never goes as planned but you give him an A for effort.

He loves how dark you can be at times though. You want to go to a local graveyard just because? Sure! Let’s go! He’s your designated graveyard buddy. You have many date nights there, looking at all the different gravestones and finding it interesting when you jot down some names in one of your notebooks.

Speaking of notebooks, you have many of them. They were filled with notes from books you’ve read, real life observations or even just some random poetry and short stories that you wrote. Marko would go through them a lot and even sometimes draw little doodles or rough sketches that were thought up from your writings.

When you spend nights down at the Boardwalk, your go to drink isn’t a slushie or a milkshake or even a soda. It’s coffee or tea. Yeah, and only Marko knows your drink orders by heart. None of the others seem to remember them correctly which you thank them for trying but Marko has got them all beat.

Marko likes seeing you in sweaters and in your trousers or linen shorts with chelsea boots. If anything, when the two of you are alone, just wearing a knit sweater and shorts were perfect for him. He likes how cozy and warm you look. He’s very happy when he cuddles you and you are warm.

Now when they tell you that they’re vampires, you think that they’re joking. Vampires aren’t real, they’re a work of fiction. Yes there was a real man named Dracula, but there was no way that they were actual vampires.

Then they showed you hard proof and then there was no denying it at that point. Instead of running away, you were fascinated. You wanted to understand your boyfriends vampire ways that lead to you conducting extensive research and a notebook dedicated to them.

They showed you everything about them, how they feed, to which you didn’t bat an eyelash of watching them feed one night. You were one morbid chick but they saw that as a plus that you didn’t react. You had graveyard dates for crying out loud, nothing really surprised them at that point.

Flying came next and they had a lot of fun showing you just how high they could go with you in their arms. You never screamed at the height, you were too caught up in seeing the overhead view of the town. You could get used to seeing a view like that every night.

Then came the other things; how they slept before you came along, what actually hurt them and what didn’t. There was one time that you stared at their vampire faces for hours because you were taking notes on how their facial features changed.

Soon you had to stock up on more turtlenecks because of the many bite marks they would leave behind from feeding on you if the weather was bad one night. It wasn’t tough adapting to their occasional feeding. A lot of your clothing already covered up your skin so it was easy to hide from people on your nights out.

Not too long after, they popped the question. Would you want to be a vampire? Live forever, never grow up? Be with them for all eternity? You didn’t really need to think about it for too long, you knew what your answer was and so did they even if you didn’t say it out loud. You loved your boys and not much would change.

When you did change, it was entertaining for them to watch. You soon started taking down notes about your progress, comparing and contrasting your experience to their own.

To the eyes of many, you became even more dark and mysterious. You had an aura around you that drew people in, it’s what got you your four vampire boyfriends, only now, it brought in your meal for the night.

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mcwriting · 3 years

Text

A Science Project for the Ages

Big thanks to this anon for this request! Sorry it's taking me longer to fulfill my requests from when I was in quarantine but I'm trying to get those done soon!

This is a slight continuation of lab partners but can definitely be read alone :)

Ship: SoftNerd!Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1883

Warnings: one blink-and-you'll-miss it bad word

⚛︎

There was a loud buzz as your phone vibrated against the wood table in the science library.

You quickly picked it up, trying not to disturb the few other students around as you looked down at the screen.

Tom.

Though you were together now, he very rarely called at this time. He knew you always studied here before dinner time and respected that.

You grabbed your notebook and bag and shuffled into the hall to answer.

"Tom? Is everything okay?"

"Hey, um. So sorry to bother you, but you've finished your science expo project, right?"

You furrowed your brows as you slid down the wall to sit and stuff your notebook back in your bag. You knew this conversation was going in a weird direction already. You could hear a faint beeping in the background.

"Uh, yeah..?"

"Right, and what was that project over again?"

"I did an analysis on light absorption of different common solutions and then compared them to the color they turned when I lit them on fire. I thought we already talked about this the other day..?"

"Yes, yeah, sorry. So one more question before I tell you what's up. Do you happen to know how to bake?" Tom asked quietly.

Suddenly you remembered what all his project was on.

He was doing a food chemistry project, explaining certain phenomenons that happen when you bake. He had hoped giving people baked goods would make them like his project more.

"I- Tom I told you I would help you but you said it would be fine," you said flatly."

"Well..... Now it's not fine, and Alex isn't here to help me. He went to his girlfriend's."

Tom's roommate. He was usually pretty patient with Tom's clumsiness, but sometimes he just had to get out and enjoy a day off, too. Tom understood, but now the burden fell on you.

"Fine, I'll be there in a little bit. Text me if you need me to bring anything."

⚛︎

You walked in to the smell of burnt. It was overwhelming and you choked as you rushed to the window to air out the apartment.

"Hey, sorry about the smell," Tom said nonchalantly from the kitchen.

You turned to see the situation at hand, which was definitely... a situation.

It was like something out of a movie. Messy bowls and utensils littered the sink. There was cake batter splattered across the counters. Finally, the culprit still sat in a muffin tin on the bar: a dozen very black cupcakes.

You sighed.

"Forgot to set the timer?"

"Yep."

"And let me guess. This was your first experience with baking?"

"That's exactly right."

"Of course," you muttered, but then clapped your hands together enthusiastically. "Well, then. Let's try and fix this, shall we?"

You leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to Tom's cheek, then brushed past him to grab the tray.

"First on the agenda, we are going to take off the papers and chuck these off the balcony to let out some frustrations, alright?"

You were lucky in that Tom's apartment was on the top floor, and his balcony faced a wooded area. The only thing he could hit was a tree and the food would eventually biodegrade into the soil.

You both tossed them, competing to see who could throw the farthest. It let Tom blow off some steam, and also gave more time to ventilate the place before you went back in.

After the last cupcake (if you could call it that) was tossed, you got started on cleaning everything up. He had used a lot of bowls for one boxed cake mix, but you didn't ask.

It took a while to make sure things were sufficiently clean, but finally everything was ready to make a new batch.

"Oh one other thing before we start. Have you ever made a meringue?" Tom asked as he preheated the oven, which you carefully supervised to make sure it was right.

"I mean, I've made some before. Why?"

"Well part of my project was talking about how egg proteins bind. They sound pretty easy. Just eggs and sugar, right?"

Your hand covered your eyes in disappointed surprise.

"What? No. Tom, meringues are like, notoriously one of the hardest things to get right. They land just before macarons, and meringue is one of the main parts of a macaron!"

"What are you talking about? How can something with two ingredients be that hard to make?" he tried to argue, but you weren't about to let him trick you into making something so difficult.

"Did none of your research explain how moisture, temperature changes, utensils used, and method of cooking affect the outcome."

"...Uh... no."

"Were you planning on using the Swiss, Italian, or French technique?"

".....I didn't know there was more than one."

"Well then you might go do a quick search to add to your presentation while I cover the cupcakes."

While he did that, you made up the batter and got the cupcakes in the oven (set at the right temperature for the right time), then got started making some frosting.

"Hey, y/n. Did you know you aren't supposed to make meringues in a plastic bowl?"

"Yep. Plastic can retain lipids which prevent proper binding. Same reason you can't whip the yolk."

"That's what this says! How did you know that?"

You shrugged.

"I like to bake. By the way, you better credit me as your pastry chef on the presentation."

"Will do."

He made some edits on the page and found a recipe claiming to be the easiest method, so you caved and agreed to help him make them when the cupcakes were done.

As you measured sugar and got the whisk attachment ready, you looked over and admired Tom as he meticulously separated the eggs.

You couldn't help but fall head over heels for him all over again seeing how he did each step carefully, all his focus on each little egg.

Sure, he was a little clumsy sometimes, but he was precious and cared about whatever he did.

It took what seemed like hours to get the egg whites whipped properly (and lots of arguing with Tom about what "stiff peaks" meant), but finally you had them in a piping bag and on a pan to bake.

You couldn't help but wait by the oven in anxious anticipation for the meringues to come out, even though they'd be in there for a while.

Tom sat right next to you on the (surprisingly) clean kitchen floor as you stared at the oven.

"Babe?" he asked softly, leaning into you.

You hummed a response, taking the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder.

"Thank you for coming and helping me. I know you value your library time."

You smiled and sat back up, looking Tom in the eyes.

"You know, I wasn't really studying anyways. I was watching youtube videos with my headphones in because I didn't want to go home yet."

Tom had a mischievous grin and furrowed brow.

"So you just go there as an excuse to get away from me?!"

You laughed and knocked into him slightly.

"No! I just got done with my homework and wanted to hang around campus for a while... and I had a feeling you'd call eventually."

Tom gasped.

"You didn't trust me!?"

"Now that I can answer truthfully..." you started, causing him to pout. "I'm not saying I didn't trust you at all, it's just that I had never once heard of you baking and figured I would prepare myself accordingly."

"Does this mean that Alex knew too?"

"I can't speak on his behalf, but I'm glad it was just us anyways. I like getting to spend time with you like this." You paused to peck him on the lips. "Want me to read over your project? I know those spelling errors can slip by sometimes."

Tom grinned, wordlessly getting up and offering you a hand.

⚛︎

The expo was in full swing and you nervously stood on the other side of the room as your project to watch people walk by and observe your findings.

You had already given your presentation to the judging panel and now the expo was open to the public, so you tried to avoid stressing too much as you talked with some friends.

Suddenly a pair of warm arms came around your stomach and Tom's scent enveloped you.

"Hey baby, how ya feelin'?" he asked, resting his chin on your shoulder as your thumbs rubbed over his hands instinctively.

"You know me. A little nervous." You flipped in his arms to face him. "And what about you? The judges like our sweet treats?"

"They sure seemed too. Dr. Grand liked the meringues so much she asked for another."

You smiled.

"Well either way, I'm proud of us both."

"Thanks again for helping, I couldn't have done this without you. I made sure to emphasize how difficult meringue making is during my presentation thanks to you."

Finally your friends had enough of the cutesy bullshit and convinced you and Tom to rejoin the conversation, both of you with arms around each other as you conversed.

Time passed and eventually they gave prizes to the best projects of the expo. You knew you wouldn't win anything, there were some far better projects out there that included heavy research.

"And in first place, 'Science around us: the chemistry of baking' by Mr. Tom Holland! Congratulations! If all of our winners could come pick up their ribbons and get a photo for the newsletter, that would be great."

Tom stayed casually next to you, so you had to shake him and get his attention.

"Did you hear that Tom? You won!"

Tom blinked a few times, then gasped.

"I won!? I mean, we won!!?"

You rolled your eyes and pushed him forward.

"Go on, get your blue ribbon, baker boy."

He excitedly rushed up to the table where his prize awaited (tripping a few times, but you ignored that) and bounced on the balls of his feet as someone pinned the ribbon to his shirt.

You could see the sheer delight on his face as the winners took a group photo, and he practically skipped back to meet you.

You and your friends gave him congratulations as he happily looked down at the blue piece pinned to him.

He then unpinned it and tried to hand it to you.

"Now, don't congratulate me, y/n gets all the credit for making everything."

"No, no. It was your idea and you did the research. You deserve that more than anyone else. And plus, you were right. Baked goods did give you an edge over the competition."

"Well I say it was a science project for the ages!" he exclaimed, holding up the ribbon. You and your friends cheered to that.

"How 'bout we go celebrate your win over lunch, hm? The cupcake I had isn't holding me over and I'm starving."

"Sounds perfect, darling. Lead the way."

You happily headed off towards the nearest place on campus, completely oblivious to the fact that Tom had pinned his blue ribbon to your backpack.

He quickly made up time and slipped a hand into yours.

If nothing else, he was the boyfriend of the ages.

⚛︎

A/N: thanks to the anon who sent the request for this! I really enjoyed writing it! I think I could've improved some things but overall I'm pretty satisfied with it, and I hope you are too!

Permanent Tag List

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@jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @justafangirlduh, @hollandswife

#a science project for the ages #tom holland #tom holland story #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine

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unemployedlibrarian · 3 years

Text

Rupert Giles x Artist!Reader Imagine

You sat at the large table in the center of the library. It was late, the lights were dim and it was blissfully quiet. The scoobies had all gone home for the night and Giles and you were left. He sat in his office, his back turned to you. He was doing research on a ritual, and you were supposed to be finding out everything you could about a demon supposedly connected to the ritual somehow.

You sat there and absentmindedly sketched him in the midst of some notes you’d been taking - were supposed to be taking. You were just having a small break… capturing the back of his head, how the light bounced off of his slightly mussed brown hair, the light hitting it just right so some lighter browns and a bit of grey shone through. The tenseness in his shoulders, his hand thoughtfully resting on his chin, his glasses neat against his face. You knew you could never capture him perfectly, never translate how serene it felt, sitting in that dim sanctuary watching him in secret.

He shifted and lifted his hand to rub his temple for a moment before standing. You covered your notes with one of the books in front of you and anticipated him coming over. You could just catch him through the gaps in his office blinds pouring some tea. He popped his head through the doorway and held out a mug.

“Chamomile?” He called out, just loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded with a small smile.

“Please.”

You had spent many late nights in the library with Giles and the scoobies lately, and he had started brewing chamomile when you were around as soon as he discovered it was your favorite. You thought it was sweet of him. The past two nights the two of you had ended up staying late past the scoobies leaving. You loved staying late with him to get extra research done, it was an opportunity to get to know him better, and you had wanted to do exactly that in the past six months you'd been acquainted with him. These nights were always calm and still, and this had been an especially slow night.

Giles soon came back out with a tray of tea and biscuits. You were thankful for a late night snack. He sat the tray between you with a sigh and plopped down heavy in a chair across from you, already having eaten half of a biscuit on his way over. His eyes were tired, as they often were. Yoj thanked him for the tea, and he took a moment to finish his biscuit before starting to explain what he’d found out about the ritual so far. You blew on your tea as you listened, and let yourself take in the aroma and his gentle, slightly raspy tired voice. He removed his glasses and cleaned them as he spoke.

“Have you discovered anything more about our demon?” He asked, returning the glasses to his face.

“Oh! Yeah, I have some stuff here.”

You lifted the book from the top of your notes, accidentally revealing the sketch you'd done, already having forgotten. You quickly tucked it under your first page of notes, but you were sure he’d already caught a glimpse of it. You could feel your cheeks heat up and you cursed yourself in your head. You had watched him creepily from across the room and did a creepy little sketch of him with my creepy stalker hand. You hated yourself. You managed to squeeze out some words about what you'd found in your research, though you probably would have had a lot more to say if you had spent the last twenty minutes actually working instead of sketching the librarian.

He acted as if he hadn’t seen it, but you were almost completely certain he had. The two of you chatted over the tea and biscuits for a little while before he started to clean up.

“Perhaps we could both use some rest. Shall I walk you to your car?”

You nodded, and started gathering up your things. The corner of the sketch peaked out for a moment when you moved some papers, and he saw it again.

“Is that your work? ‘S very good.” He said, taking a final sip of his tea and turning on his heel to put the tray away.

You went to say thank you, but he was already all the way in his office. You gathered the rest of your things and tucked the sketch into the back of your notebook to hopefully never be seen again. He returned with his coat in his arms and you left the school together, him not having said another word about the drawing.

You reached your car, and were about to say your goodbye, when he spoke.

“Do I really look like that?” He asked, his voice an octave higher than normal and his eyebrows furrowed adorably.

“Well, you-” you stopped, and a small chuckle escaped your throat. “You looked so pretty sitting there, I just couldn’t resist.”

He was completely taken aback, you'd never been that bold with him. He stammered and straightened his glasses and took his other hand out of his pocket, put it back in, and smiled that gorgeous bashful smile. The one that always made its way onto post-compliment Giles’ face. He faced the ground and his eyes darted up and met yours. He scratched at the back of his head.

“Well I- er… Pretty?” The smile was still plastered onto his face and he was desperately trying to make it go away.

“Good night Mr. Giles, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You smiled wide, and he nodded vigorously.

“Y-yes, quite right, um- good night.”

And he was off. He practically ran.

#rupert giles #giles #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #rupert giles x reader #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #rupert giles imagine

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sorryimanon · 3 years

Text

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x NB!Reader

Warnings: some angst, FLUFF, and our boys being the best boys.

In which they comfort you after a rough day or week

A/N: im sorry if Izukus section is shorter than Bakugou’s. trying to practice writing other characters. enjoy!

Saturday's are reserved strictly by the majority of the girls from class 1-A, leaving the guys to hibernate inside their dorms as they allow the commencement of girls night. You've never rain checked nor rejected the idea of spending quality time with your friends, considering all the tribe's and trepidation's everyone has endured together during their time at the academy. It's nice to just strip away the stress and dip your toes in pure relaxation.

Unfortunately, you woke up with a bad case of cloudy thoughts. For the past week you've been carrying the weight of dread, causing your mood to drastically change throughout the day. You'd be having a civil conversation with someone one minute and then the next minute you're completely irritated by their presence. You've tried to balance it out and fix it overnight with the regimes you researched on the internet. A new sleeping schedule, healthier diet, yoga, and even went to the extreme of writing in a journal. It was all so cut throat and prestigious, nothing close to your liking. Katsuki made fun of you for it one day when he snuck into your room and read the many inscriptions in your journal entries.

"This stuff reminds of Deku. Always shoving his nose in that stupid notebook of his," he didn't care much to hear your refutes about Izuku. "Anyways, what's with all this depressing shit you are writing? You don't really feel this way do you?"

You didn't give him a definite answer that day. Only a curt "no" and he resumed rambling about his day like nothing happened, having you listening with his voice like white noise going in one ear and out the other.

And that's how it went on throughout the duration of the prior week before Saturday.

Inside the confinement of your dorm, you made the rational decision to sleep in instead of attending classes. The chilling thoughts kept you up all night, never once allowing sleep to take full throttle. You tossed and turned around on your bed, unable to shut off your brain. So when you woke up in the peak of late afternoon, you weren't surprised to see the unread messages on your phone. All of them were from your explosive boyfriend.

King Explosion🤍: Oi you running late? Mr.Sleepy head is taking roll call

King Explosion🤍: y/n where tf r u?

King Explosion🤍: fine don't answer me ig

King Explosion🤍: are you at least coming down for lunch? i made curry last night and imma make you finish it

King Explosion🤍: fking hurry before dunce face eats it

King Explosion🤍: nvm he ate it 😐

Katsuki never intended for the message to be funny. He's probably blowing actual steams of smoke through his nostrils and ears while chasing kamanari amongst the halls. The comical imagery made you laugh harder. At least he made you crack a smile. You haven't shown any emotions let alone a hint of enthusiasm for tonight.

Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out.

"Hey, we're missing a person! Where's my y/n?" Mina asked after scanning the group of girls huddled around on the carpeted floor.

Momo shifted uncomfortably on the cushioned pillow she stole from the couch. "Y/N said she wasn't feeling too well to join us for tonight. Something about food poisoning and throwing up every hour."

In unison all the girls gasped, along with a concerned 'ribbit' from Tsuyu.

"Well I hope she gets to feeling better. I wouldn't want her to endure such sickness for much longer," Tsuyu croaked out.

Everyone in the circle agreed and promised to pay a visit later in the night to check on you.

On the fourth floor, Katsuki stared blankly at his phone, hands shaking due to the repressed anger he's been holding. Each of the messages he sent previously were all left on read, including the one he sent an hour ago asking if he could have a cuddle session with you before girls night. Yes, even an ill tempered guy such as him enjoys sappy shit like cuddling. After pacing back and forth in his room for a solid 5 minutes, he was now dead set on confronting you in front of your friends.

Katsuki made a beeline for the elevator and aggressively pressed the 1st floor button repeatedly in hopes it'll make the process go quicker. He reached the commons area in precision time, overhearing the girls giggle after someone suggested playing truth or dare. He towered over Uraraka's figure, casting a demonic shadow version of himself in the circle. Hagakure shrieked and clung onto Jirou.

"Where's y/n you extras?" He demanded, voice deafening the brunette under him.

"She didn't come tonight. She's in her dorm room sick," Jirou explained to him as she tried pry the invisible girl off her arm.

"Like hell she's sick!" Katsuki spun around quickly and retreated back to the elevator, mumbling obscenities under his breath. "She's going to pay for being so careless and irresponsible."

The commons room fell silent once the explosive blonde disappeared behind the doors of the elevator, all eyes searching each other in complete shock. Uraraka was the first to speak out of the small group.

“Should we warn y/n that Bakugou is coming for her?”

Jirou averted her gaze to the direction bakugou left off from, a ghost of a smirk spreading on her face.

“Nah. Knowing y/n, she can handle the asshole on her own.”

King Explosion🤍: can i come over? i wanna cuddle, i miss u

The text message kept flashing behind your eyes every-time you closed them - a sad image of Katsuki waiting impatiently for you to reply back with a heart or one of those unusual memes he unapologetically adores. You knew he’d be furious, no doubt about it, but you rationalized your decision and concluded it would be best to avoid your boyfriend like the plague till this undesired feeling dissipates. Katsuki doesn’t do well with people being emotional, let alone handle his own emotions for god’s sake.

Your own thoughts were interrupted by someone raping the outside of your door. The continuous knocks made your head spin, a painful sting ghosting back and forth between your eyes. Remembering back to an hour ago, you messaged one of the girls that you weren’t going to make it to tonight’s session. Surely they respected your wishes and continued on with their hangout? But you forgot about the one person who’s persistent and stubborn like a cat.

“I know you’re in there y/n! You may have fooled your idiotic friends with a lie, but you keep on forgetting you’re terrible at lying!” Katsuki hollers against the wood of the door, not once being considerate of those living above her.

He’s right. You’re absolutely horrible at making up excuses for yourself. Dating someone as intuitive as him will be the death of you.

“If there’s something going can you at least let me in? You can’t ignore me forever y/n.”

Again, he’s right.

You slipped out from the comfort of your bed and padded towards the door, mentally preparing for the blonde to scold you once he enters your room. What you weren’t prepared for was the tears swelling up in the ducts of his vermillion eyes - his hands clenched tightly into fists as he looked down at you. Your breathing hitched when his arm outstretched to rest on the door frame to keep his trembling body steady.

“What the hell y/n? Why the fuck have you been ignoring me?! Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, not caring about his current appearance.

You grab ahold of his other arm and absentmindedly started rubbing it affectionately, trying to coax him into calming down. “Katsuki no! You didn’t do anything wrong! Why would you think that?”

“Because dumbass, you’ve been distant this past week,” he paused, choking on his words. “Are...are you breaking up with me?”

Your eyes shot up instantly at his horrifying assumption. “Katsuki, if I tell you the truth, will you promise not to make things worse for me?”

He tilted his head in confusion, but nodded once you led him into your messy bedroom. Once inside, your boyfriend plopped down on your bed, watching intently as you anxiously bit down on your nails - a nervous habit you picked up at the beginning of the school year.

“I’ve been feeling weird lately. Ever since the beginning of last week. I don’t know how to describe it but, my brain is constantly feeding into my already negative state. Telling me things I know aren’t true but I’ve convinced myself they are. Almost as if a grey cloud is hovering above me,” tears were already starting to pour down your cheeks. “I just...I just feel so miserable and lonely and useless and irritated and- I’m so sorry for ignoring you. You probably want nothing to do with me after this!”

You manage to turn away from the sight of the blonde during your speech, ashamed of pouring out your emotions onto a person who disregards other peoples emotions and constitutes them as a quote on quote “pussy”.

From behind, you can hear faint shuffling nearing your already shaken up figure. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a wall that could only be described as his own chiseled chest, doing the same as you did moments ago with his arm - lulling you to calm down a notch before he stared speaking.

“If you been feeling this way, why lie when I asked you a few days ago after reading your journal?”

“I know how you are, Katsuki. You get very uncomfortable when people talk about their feelings. So, why should I be any different?”

Your boyfriend suddenly maneuvers you around in the circle of his arms, shifting to where you’re now making direct eye contact with him. His gaze intense and unwavering.

“Because you’re my girlfriend? I don’t give a rats ass about any of these extras. When it comes to you, I’d make an exception for. I made that promise to myself when we first started seeing each other. So don’t think for a second that I’ll disregard your true feelings, dumbass.” He stepped a couple of inches backwards, ankles eventually hitting the bottom of your bed - making him fall and dragging you along with him. You landed on top of him, head still buried in the depths of his hard chest. The vibrations of his chuckle shook your whole body. Katsuki gently titled your head to be leveled with his, a red tint of blush painting his pallid cheeks.

“I’m being serious though. Don’t be afraid to come to me when things get tough, okay? I love you too much to see you like this.”

Next thing you knew your boyfriend stole your breath away by meshing his plump lips onto yours, hands snaking their way into your hair and carefully massaging it. By all means, you let him have his way with you by kissing the sadness away, tears puddling together cheek on cheek.

He let go eventually, pecking a quick chaste kiss on the side of your mouth before hauling you further into the bed. You settled on letting him spoon you, knowing how much he likes the feeling of your backside pressed against him, and the fruity aroma of your hair infiltrating his senses.

“I promise Katsuki,” you said after some time during the cuddle session.

He shifted in his spot, head placed firmly in the crook of your neck. “Promise what?”

“That I’ll come to you when these thoughts return again. I should trust you by now, and I need to not let these emotions ruin everything in my life. I love you that much.

Your confession swelled the very last evidence of Katsuki being a human being, his heart.

He smiled weakly to himself and nuzzled more into your shoulder, brushing his warm lips against the tender skin. “You better, dumbass.”

Today was just so exhausting, and the big fat 'D-‘ written in red ink on your final report was the icing on the cake. To make things even worse, Aizawa reminded the whole class before the exam that this was to determine wether or not if you'll be joining the training camp that'll commence the following winter break.

Hopefully this was one of your teacher's terrible deception tactics into making everyone do their absolute best, go plus ultra even. But to your dismay, he was indeed very serious of the matter this time.

It wasn't your fault, not entirely. You stayed up all night listening to another one of your boyfriends rambles, the conversation lasting till 2 am. Izuku grew worrisome and anxious ever since his encounter with a gruesome villain, thus resulting in him to pour his emotions out onto you. Poor baby kept mentioning the safety of All Might and you.

Solemnly, you left class and trailed back to your dorm room, wanting to ignore the jovial atmosphere inside the cramped room as everyone traded and talked about their scores.

Izuku noticed you leaving abruptly and got up from his desk to follow you behind, bidding a quick goodbye to his friends.

Your room was dark and dramatically colder than usual, a trickle of light threatening to pour in from the cascading sunset. You laid down on your stomach with one of your pillows propped on your head, in hopes to shield away anyone from seeing your ugly-crying face.

Too late because Izuku was already standing outside your dorm room, swaying back and forth on his feet while biting down harshly on his lip. He can hear your soft cries seeping through the door. He doesn't know why he's hesitating, he's your boyfriend after all.

Moments later you hear the acute sounds of someone knocking on your door, followed by the soft spoken voice of your green haired boyfriend.

"Baby? Can I come in? I-If that's okay with you I m-mean! It's alright if you need some space but you left class so early I figured something happened to you and I got really worried because you always wait for Iida and uraraka to walk us back to the dorms as a group and maybe it had something to do with what I was telling you last night-."

You crack the door just a smidge before fully opening it, revealing your bloodshot eyes and tear stained shirt to him. His breathing hitched once his eyes fixated on your disheveled state.

"Can you comfort me? I need you right now Izuku," your voice cracked a little, throat still tight after the crying session.

His strong, lean arms wrapped around your body momentarily, encasing you into a bear hug. Hugs from Izuku were amazing, no exceptions. He placed a quick peck on the crown of your forehead.

"C'mon, let's get inside and snuggle. How does that sound?" he asked as he unwrapped himself and took your trembling hand, leading you back inside the dimly lit room.

Izuku laid you gently down on your side once reaching the bed, crawling alongside with you before draping the covers over the both of you. His familiar hands snake around your waist and nudges you to roll over. You obliged and shifted your body to face his, sparkly green eyes staring straight at you.

"Tell me, what's wrong baby? Does it have to do with the recent exam?" his thumb started tracing delicate lines on your hips, your uniform long gone and now replaced with comfortable clothes instead.

"I failed Izuku...I did so terrible on the written exam. I kept falling in and out of sleep during the test that I didn't have time to finish the middle portion of it," you exhaled a shaky breath. "Who knows what'll happen on the practical. I'll probably fail that too...I'm such a failure compared to everyone."

Izuku grabbed the tender flesh of your cheeks and directed your vision to level with his. He looked angry and concerned.

"Don't say that y/n! You're not a failure! That exam doesn't determine wether or not if you're good enough to be a hero. I've seen you in action hun, and I know for a fact that you're possibly the most strongest person I've met in my lifetime! You're ambitious, smart, determined, and so freaking beautiful." He then kissed you tenderly on the lips, his eyes closing slightly due to the contact.

"So...freaking...beautiful." He whispers against your mouth.

His sentimental words were enough for you to push back the negativity and simply enjoy the intimate moment.

Izuku lifted his head away from your face to rest it against your temple. "You're going to do great things, okay? One failing grade isn't going to be the end of the world. Trust me sweetheart, I've had my fair share in failures during our time here in Yuuei. But look at me now, still standing."

You nuzzled more into his chest, tickling his chin with your hair. Faintly, you can hear the pitter patter of his heart beat bursting through his rib cage.

"Would you love me even if I was a horrendous looking-failure?" you were clearly teasing him, but sometimes Izuku became dense when it came to that.

"Y/n! W-Why would you ask that! Of course I would you dummy! I'd love you no matter what."

This time you return the favor and kiss him, knowing how to easily fluster him in seconds. He whimpers into your mouth at the sudden contact and cups your jawline affectionately.

The two of you stayed like that till the moon shone through the balcony curtains, illuminating your skin in a dusty glow.

Lips bruised and swollen red, you laid lifelessly in his arms, letting him wove his scarred fingers through your hair. Izuku would occasionally stop to peck your lips, then resumes his attention back to your hair.

"I'm sorry by the way. I shouldn't have kept you up last night before the exam. I'm such a horrible boyfriend..." he admitted suddenly.

"Yes. Yes you are."

He gasped and stopped his movements altogether, obviously taken aback by your blunt words.

You giggled and said, "Kidding. You're the best boyfriend. Apology accepted.”

After hearing that, Izuku shoved himself onto your chest and let out muffled cry. "D-Don't scare me like that. Almost made me have a heart a-attack!"

#mha imagines #mha x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bnha izuku #midoriya izuku #izuku x you #izuku x reader #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya headcanons #deku x you #deku x reader

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penaltbox · 3 years

Text

study buddies - owen lindmark

here is a (seemingly) much anticipated re-post of an old fic that i still love so much. feedback is very appreciated; tell me your favorite line or part! i hope you guys like it the second time around, or if you’re new, the first!

“he just needs a little help staying caught up with things. the season keeps him busy so we like to ask students to help each other out,” your professor asked, smiling a little.

this is what you got for doing so well on the first test. you were stuck helping some hockey player study and take notes because he couldn’t be at class often enough.

just as you’re about to argue a boy comes busting through the classroom door, half out of breath. you see the red wisconsin backpack with a number 18 stitched into it.

“and here he is. this is owen lindmark, you’ll be working with him,” your professor explains.

owen smiles and it takes you back for a second. you weren’t prepared for a cute boy to need help and this one actually seemed nice.

“i’m so sorry i’m late. i promise i’m usually not like this,” he apologizes, sticking his hand out for you to shake.

you do so, immediately noticing how big his hand is. you swallow hard and pull your hand back, not needing to even think that way. he needed help with class and that was it. the professor lets you both off to do your own thing and owen hands you a schedule.

“i just figured it might help you to have the hockey schedule. i wrote on there as much info as i had about times i’d be busy so we can work a study schedule out. i’m okay with once a week unless you think we need more?” he says, looking nervous as he scratches the back of his neck.

you weren’t sure how such a large boy could look so shy, but you decided then that maybe this whole tutoring thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“well, just from looking at this i’m thinking tuesday nights might be our best chance? this is a monday/wednesday/friday class so we’d be studying between those days and then if you have a road trip we’re not missing any study time,” you explain, thinking out loud more than anything.

he smiles and pulls his phone out, handing it to you, “okay, tuesday’s it is. go ahead and put your number in just so we have them if something happens.”

you take his phone and plug your number in, trying to play it cool. he immediately texts your phone, but you don’t check it.

“okay, well i have to run to practice, but i’ll see you on tuesday?” he asks, another one of those bright smiles just about making your knees weak.

“yeah,” you say, knowing your voice sounded a little off.

he laughs a little and heads off anyways. you quickly unlock your phone, seeing the new message from him. it’s simple.

‘hey it’s owen 😁’

you shake your head, heading back to your dorm to tell your roommate about this one. you had a feeling it was going to be quite the semester.

—

owen is surprisingly tolerable for a d1 athlete. he doesn’t act better than other people, he doesn’t mind letting you pick where to meet up to do the studying. he even picks you up food and coffee some days.

“i hope that’s the right coffee order,” he laughs, setting the cup down.

you look up at him and smile, pretty surprised by it. you’d mentioned the first week that you loved this one coffee spot on campus and you always ordered the same thing.

“owen, you didn’t have to do that,” you blush, taking a sip of the warm liquid. it was perfect and he looked like a saint in that moment.

he shrugs, “it was nothing. i had to pass it on the way back from practice.”

“well i appreciate it. thank you,” you say quietly, opening your book up to the chapter you guys were on.

you start reading through your notes compared to what owen had and you can feel his eyes on you. you try not to look at first but eventually it’s too much.

you glance up and find him watching you, a blush dusting his face when he gets caught. he coughs a little and looks down at his book after a second.

“you really didn’t miss much,” you tell him, “i think you’re probably good to go this week.”

he looks up quickly, a small frown on his face, “oh. well i mean, we already came here. might as well keep working on stuff?”

you nod, telling him you don’t mind that. and even that quick the study dates were officially extended to whatever homework you both had with you that day.

—

he’d actually turned into a pretty good friend over the month or so since you got assigned to each other and you started looking forward to seeing him every week. it didn’t hurt that he sat by you in class now, too.

this tuesday was a meeting in the library again. owen looks exhausted and you know he’d had games over the weekend. he must not have had time to get much rest yet, so you try and condense what had been talked about in the last class he missed in case he wants to take off back to his place.

he lays his head down on his arms, groaning into the table, “i can’t do this any longer.”

you laugh a little at him, “it’s microbiology, o. did you expect it to be easy?”

he peaks up at you with the cutest scowl you’ve ever seen. it’s hard to take him serious when he looks like that and his eye roll tops it off.

“i should have picked a simple major like the rest of the team. this is ridiculous. i don’t understand this!”

you sigh and pull his notebook towards you. you realize he’d written something down a few lines ago that wasn’t correct about a transfer of disease.

“owen, come here. you don’t get it because you wrote it wrong,” you say, tapping the table next to you.

he grunts and gets out of his seat, moving to the one next to you instead. he crowds your personal space immediately, pressing his arm against yours as he leans over.

you turn your head to explain it to him without realizing how close he had gotten. his eyes are big as he waits for you to explain it and you have to look away from him. you know you’re blushing like crazy, but owen is polite and doesn’t pick on you for it.

you show him the section in the enormous textbook, telling him where he’d written the wrong thing down. the look on his face after is worth it though because he gets it then.

what you didn’t expect was for him to flip his book around and stay sitting next to you when he could have easily moved back to his previous chair. you tell yourself not to think about it, not needing to make this more complicated. owen apparently has other plans though.

“we’ve got a game this saturday,” he blurts out suddenly, “are you going?”

you look up at him, not even realizing it, “oh you do? i mean, i hadn’t thought about going.”

he looks down at his notebook before looking over at you, “maybe you should go. you might like it.”

“do you want me there?” you ask him. you have no clue where that bravery came from and you fully expected him to brush it off.

he smiles though, “yeah i’d love that.”

—

“brittney, are you sure about this?” you nervously ask your roommate.

owen had asked you to go, but you figured he probably told everyone to go to his games. brittney jumped at the chance to go when you mentioned it, swearing it would be fun. you knew she had alex turcotte in her management class though and wanted to see him as much as you wanted to see owen.

“it’ll be fine. you need to stop worrying so much. he’s your study buddy, not a random dude,” she shook her head, going into the kohl center without a worry at all.

you’d got to the rink earlier than expected so the boys were still warming up. you pull the sleeves of your wisconsin crewneck over your hands, crossing your arms as you watch them move around quickly.

you find owen easily as they skate around and a little smile makes its way onto your face. brittney’s telling you some story about alex in class and you’re half listening, but also wondering if the guys ever looked around at the people watching them.

you get your answer when a puck smacks the glass in front of you, making you jump and look back at the ice. you see owen laughing and stick handling another puck before tossing it into the glass again in the same spot.

you shake your head at him, but you’re not even mad. you imagine he’d be teasing you about it come tuesday but that was okay.

brittney looks over at you, asking, “what’s going on with you two? are you sure you’re just study buddies?”

you blush furiously, scoffing a little, “yeah, there’s nothing else going on with us. the last thing i need is to try and get with some college athlete just to end up embarrassed and heart broken.”

“okay that’s so dramatic. he obviously thinks you’re pretty cool if he invited you to the game tonight. it means he doesn’t mind being seen in public with you,” she pokes, knowing you were too shy to talk about him much.

“let’s just go sit down. i need food before i have to watch this,” you mumble, shoving the topic to the side.

you ended up with surprisingly good seats and the boys ended up winning, which was awesome. owen may have gotten a pretty decent assist and you know you’ll have to congratulate him on that later. you’re halfway down the street from the arena after the game when a text from owen shows up.

‘wait after for us’

you stop and look over at brittney, showing her the screen. her jaw drops and she slaps your arm, heading right back for the building you’d just walked out of.

“well we have to wait for him. also, find out who this ‘us’ is. tell him to bring alex,” she says, marching you both into the lobby.

you send owen a message to tell him where you were, getting more and more nervous as time ticked on. he didn’t send another text back and you frowned at the screen.

“what’s taking them so long? you don’t think he said that just to make me look dumb, do you?” you ask, checking your phone yet again to see if he messaged you.

she looks up to respond but a funny look takes over her face, like she’s trying to hide her smile. it fails horribly and you realize she’s looking over your shoulder.

before you can turn around to look two arms wrap around your shoulders from behind and hug you tight back into someone. you grab onto the arms, jumping when it happens, and see the suit coat that covers them. you know immediately that it’s owen.

you laugh, relaxing then, and looking up at him as your head rests back on his chest. the smile he gives you makes your heart strings tug and he surprisingly doesn’t pull away.

“that’s the second time i scared you tonight, huh?” he laughs.

you blush and nod a little, “yeah, thanks for that earlier. you had everyone around me laughing, too.”

“so how was the game?” he asks, rocking you both side to side.

“it was a lot of fun actually. your assist was pretty awesome,” you say, trying to keep your cool.

you look over, feeling bad that you’d forgot to introduce brittney to him but she was already fully immersed in a conversation with alex that had her finding an excuse to touch his tie. you know exactly what’s going on there so you look back up at owen.

“well, that’s my roommate. she has class with alex actually so it’s a good thing he came with you,” you laugh, still leaning into owen.

he nods, “yeah when i shot that puck at you earlier he looked over and said he knew her. guess he thinks she’s pretty hot or something.”

you laugh, knowing she’ll love to hear that one later. you’re not sure what to do next, but owen finally steps away, coming to stand next to you. he gets alex’s attention, mentioning something about getting to ‘the house’ before it got too late.

“you guys can come if you want,” alex says, giving you a little wave as he finally pulls his attention away from your roommate.

you return his wave but get nervous right away, not really ready for that part of things. you’d heard they partied a lot but you weren’t exactly prepared for that. brittney recognizes it and shakes her head.

“maybe next time. we’ve got stuff to do pretty early tomorrow,” she explains, saving you from looking like a big baby.

the boys don’t seem to think twice about it and walk outside with you both as you get ready to go two different ways. alex and brittney get in their own world again as owen turns towards you. god he looks so good in his suit, and you know you’re staring, but you can’t help it.

“i’ll see you in class monday, okay?” he asks quietly, pulling you into a hug.

it takes you a little off guard, but you hug him back tight. he’s so big and warm that you get lost in it for a second. as he pulls back his hand trails down your arm, grabbing your hand for a second. he gives you a quick wink before he and alex walk away, but of course brittney caught it.

“excuse me, what was that?” she tries to whisper but fails completely.

“i don’t know! he’s never done that!” you blush, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“he likes you,” she nods, laughing at your expression.

you shake your head, “no way. he can get any girl he wants. i’m just his study buddy.”

—

owen asks to hang out more often after that. in fact he texts you the day after his game and the day after that as well. when he shows up to class monday morning he brings you a coffee and your heart melts a little.

you knew to be weary of hockey players. you’d been around enough of them in high school to know how they acted, but owen seemed to be different. he leans over during the lecture to whisper in your ear at one point, which is thoroughly distracting.

“you wanna go hang in my room after this?” he asks, his voice deeper than you expected.

“yeah, i’m done with classes after this,” you nod, biting your lip as you look at him.

the smirk he gives you back lets you know you’re in trouble now with him. he weaseled his way in and you hardly had the chance to stop him.

the class passes by horribly slow after that, but the walk to owen's room is luckily pretty short. you’d been over once or twice, but not since the game. not since he came up behind you and hugged you.

you look around this time, not as worried about studying. the late october air is cool in his room and you noticed the window was cracked open a little. the view from his room is amazing and you get lost in it for a second.

owen comes up behind you, leaning his hand on the wall next to the window. you can all but feel him pressed against you but you don’t move.

“this is amazing, o,” you say softly, taking in all the fall colors on campus.

“yeah i really can’t complain,” he says, but you look back to find him looking down at you.

you clear your throat, blushing hard as you look away. he must have noticed the effect he had on you because he laughs a little and steps away.

“what do you say to watching a movie?” he asks, heading over to grab his laptop.

you turn around, sitting next to him on his bed, “sounds like a great idea to me.”

you might be guilty of leaning into him a few times that night, but really it’s his fault. he’s the one that puts his arm around you and lets you lay your head on his chest.

—

you decide to stay in that friday night but when a handful of texts from brittney come flying in to your phone you immediately panic a little.

‘dude owens at state street’

‘he’s with some girl??’

‘they’re standing CLOSE?!?’

‘wait she looks kissed. pissed. fuck.’

‘she left. omg alex is here i gotta go’

the whole thing makes your heart hurt and your head spin a little. of course owen was out with a girl. who were you to think you were more than just a study buddy? but he’d been so different lately. you really hoped this was some rude joke being played on you and owen wasn’t how you knew some guys to be.

you’d tried to keep that night off your mind as much as possible, but you’re not very successful. you can’t text him and ask, but that standing tuesday study date seems to come so much faster than you expected.

the weekend had blurred by and you found yourself at owen’s door, the agreed upon study location for that week. you suddenly think it might have been better to fake an emergency so you don’t have to go through with this considering he’d been awfully friendly the last time you were in his room for movie night.

you knock on the door quickly, wanting to get studying over with. you hear a groan that makes you frown and when owen opens the door you’re shocked.

the room is pitch black, he’s in pajamas with his glasses on, and his hair is a mess. he looks rough, like he wasn’t feeling well and it immediately makes your concern grow.

“o, what’s up? are you okay?” you ask softly.

he sighs, looking so defeated, “i caught something yesterday i think. or maybe this weekend. i’ve been sleeping so much and i can’t eat. i hate being sick.”

you can’t worry about who that girl was now even though that’s all you wanted to ask him about. instead you shuffle him back into his room, dropping your bag by the door.

you reach up to check his forehead considering how rosy his cheeks are, “owen, you’re burning up. have you eaten anything today?”

“eating and keeping it down have been two different things,” he mumbles, leaning into your hand.

you frown and reach for him, pushing him towards his bed. he easily complies, crawling back under the covers, but pushing them away.

“no, you need to cover up and sweat this fever out. i’ll run and get you some medicine and food that might be easier to keep down,” you tell him, looking for his keys.

“i’ll be right here,” he tries to joke, but he’s already falling back asleep as he says it.

you sigh, pushing a bit of his hair off his forehead. when did you turn into such a sucker for this kid? he had you all wrapped around his finger.

medicine and food were decently easy to locate and owen is still passed out when you get back to his room. you set everything on his desk, walking over to sit on the edge of his bed.

“hey, wake up. i need you to take some medicine,” you say, rubbing his back.

he groans again and peaks up at you, “i’m so tired still.”

“i know. maybe you shouldn’t have stayed out all night friday,” you joke before you realize what you said. you both freeze a little and look at each other.

“wait, how do you know i was out friday?” he asks, moving to sit up on the bed.

“uh, i didn’t. i don’t. i mean,” you stutter, not being quick enough to pull yourself out of it.

he shakes his head a little, “you didn’t know. brittney told you, didn’t she?”

you nod, not being able to look at him then. he probably thought you were keeping tabs on him or something. you’re lost in your own world when he reaches out, putting a finger under your chin to make you look at him.

“she saw the girl, right? and then texted you about it?” he asks softly.

you nod again, not trusting your words. you had already said the wrong thing once to get you to this spot.

he smiles though, relaxing suddenly, “she’s no one to worry about. well not anymore. we used to like talk and hook up, but a few weeks ago i started to really like someone so i told her we had to call it off.”

“oh,” is all you can manage to say. you can’t look at him. absolutely not. you couldn’t let him see how upset you were about it.

“well,” you say after a second, “medicine is in the bag and so is some food. i don’t think we want both of us sick so i should probably get going now.”

you’re up and moving towards the door before he can even protest, grabbing your backpack and tossing a goodbye over your shoulder.

you pull your phone out with shaky hands and shoot a quick text to brittney.

‘he used to hook up with that girl he was with friday. but he “called it off” bc he likes someone else’

you make your way back to your dorm quickly, trying to think of all the ways you’d be able to get out of your study buddy sessions for the rest of the semester. it couldn’t be over soon enough.

—

“are you sure you don’t want to come out with us?” alex asks, waiting for brittney to finish getting ready.

“no thanks. i have a paper i need to finish up so that i have study time next week,” you say, looking back at him and smiling.

you really should do the paper. it needed to get done, but your mind kept wandering. you’d avoided owen for the better part of two weeks, finding a couple good excuses to miss studying. but you’d run out now and this coming week would mean you’d see him again.

alex and brittney head out for the night, leaving you to yourself. you sigh, turning back to face your computer. you get a couple paragraphs written up when there’s a sudden sharp knock on your door.

you jump, getting up to go see if maybe brittney had forgot her keys or something. instead the peephole shows you owen standing there. not what you expected. you lean your forehead against the wooden door, taking a deep breath.

“what, owen?” you ask through it.

“will you please let me in? i think we both know we need to talk,” he says, sounding so close to the door.

you hesitate for a second but open it up. he waits for you to open it all the way, giving you a soft smile.

“well there she is. i thought she transferred schools or something with how absent she’s been,” owen jokes, stepping into the room.

you give him a little smile and follow him but he stops abruptly, causing you to run into him.

“shit, i’m sorry,” he turns around quickly, his hands coming up to hold your arms.

“i’m fine, really,” you say, trying to gently shrug him off.

he looks hurt, pulling his hands away from you, “hey, what’s going on? did i do something?”

you sigh, not even sure how to say this or where to start. he deserved an explanation, but you also didn’t want to get hurt and at this rate it was almost inevitable.

“i guess i was just hoping you were different from other guys i’ve known in the past,” you mumble.

he frowns, “what are you talking about? what happened?”

you look up at him, “i guess i just hoped you liked me for some reason. i know it’s dumb, but we were hanging out a lot so i just thought maybe it was different for you like it was for me. it’s fine if you don’t, i can’t force you to. it just sucks.”

he doesn’t respond immediately and it makes you start to get nervous. you glance back up at him and catch a half smile on his face.

“what!” you snap, feeling ready to breakdown about it all.

“you’re really cute when you’re all worked up,” he says and- wait, what?

“i’m what?” you ask, thinking you heard him wrong.

“you’re really cute when you’re all worked up like this,” he repeats.

“that’s all you have to say after what i just told you?” you scoff.

he laughs and nudges your shoulder, “i like you! have i not made that clear?”

you look up at him with wide eyes. you had to be imagining this. he wasn’t actually saying this right now.

“what?”

“not very clear then,” he mumbles almost to himself, “i invited you to my game. i even made sure to keep an arm around you so other people saw. we hang out more than we study anymore. we text all the time. you’re the only person i have a snap streak with.”

it all clicks into place a little better and you feel like an idiot. how did you miss all of this? you were so worried he’d found someone else to talk to that you didn’t even see how things had gone for the two of you.

“owen, are you serious?” you ask.

he nods, leaning in closer, “you really think i was hooking up with some other girl when i’ve got you?”

you blush, leaning against him as well, “i don’t know. i guess i just figured you wanted options.”

owen laughs, shaking his head a little, “no and the i needed to talk to you but you kept avoiding me. but i like you so i had to let you know, too. you kind of beat me to it though.”

“i like you too, o,” you smile, ignoring the small dig he made.

he leans down, kissing you suddenly. you press back immediately, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. he pulls back slowly, his thumb rubbing gently on your cheek.

“i think i could get used to that,” you mumble.

he nods, giving you one more quick kiss, “be my girlfriend and you can do it whenever you want.”

you know your face is red now and it feels all hot. you nod though, leaning up to kiss him. you pull back and smile down at him, one hand carding through his hair. he hums and closes his eyes for a few seconds.

“you’re not gonna avoid me for two more weeks now, right?” he jokes.

“no, you’re stuck with me now,” you laugh, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

he opens his eyes again and smiles at you, “movie before bed? i brought an extra shirt you can sleep in if you wanted. i’ll text alex for them to go sleep at our place tonight.”

“that sounds perfect,” you agree.

and yeah, things with him did seem pretty much perfect.

#owen lindmark #wisconsin hockey #mine #my writing #hockey fic #college hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey writing

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shootingsun · 3 years

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First Time For Everything

Yes I wrote over 3,000 words of Platonic Felila fanfiction. No I don't regret it.

@shslharrisonkinnie I finished it, Lila now has friends, yayyyyy

#Give Lila a real friend 2021

Class was tiring, Lila thought, starting aimlessly into space. Who would need this stuff when she would end up being rich and powerful anyway? She didn’t even know what the lesson was about, it didn't matter to her. Lila looked at the board and tried to pull her head out of the clouds. But it was no use, so she thought, she thought and thought.

"Please come in Miss Rossi," The doctor's had said to her. She remembered questions, about her home life, about her school, about her as a person. But. She had lied, she said things were fine, they weren't. She had told them she had friends, she did, but not exactly good ones. She had told them about her glamorous life, full of adventure and intrigue, the kind of thing adults ate up. They hadn't believed her.

There were more tests, she had lied her way through those too. She hadn't exactly wanted to lie, it just happened. Lila "Lie-a" Rossi, that's who she was, no, who she is. And so, when the letter had came back in the mail, it hadn't really been that much of a surprise.

"Lila, honey, come and talk to me," Her mother had said, before explaining her disorder, to a 12 year old Lila, this had been fine! It just meant that she was good at telling stories. That was what she did to everyone, spin them pretty stories. About her. About them. About others. About anything really.

"Tell me about yourself Miss Rossi?" My name is Lila, I've stared in movies, ("Why haven't you shown us them, Lila?") I fly on a private jet, ("When are we gonna get to see it?") And I know a bunch of celebrities! ("Stop lying to everyone!") She could spin her stories well, she had found.

'Compulsive Lying Disorder' that was what the doctors had called it. She had passed the test with flying colors.

"Alright class!" Miss Bustier cut through Lila's thoughts like a knife. "We have a new transfer student coming in today, so please treat him the same way you treat each other. Félix? Will you come in please?"

And then… Adrien came into the room?! But that can't be right, Adrien is sat at the front of the class with that Nino kid. Besides, Adrien doesn't wear a turtleneck. The class murmured amongst themselves about the model's look-alike. Lila was stunned. There were two of them now??

"Hello, I'm sure you're all wondering why I look so much like Adrien. Well, that's none of your business, but if you must know - we're cousins. My name is Félix, that's all you really need to know about me." The boy in grey said.

"Well… that was- anyway! Félix would you sit next to… Lila! Go and sit with Lila please," She smiled at him and gestured to the empty seat next to Lila. He shrugged and walked to the seat, placing his bag on the ground next to the chair.

Now that she could look at him better, she noticed the differences between Félix and Adrien. Félix carried himself with something that Adrien lacked, although she wasn't sure what. Félix wore a dark grey turtleneck that contrasted Adrien's famous snow white jacket. It was like looking into an alternate universe. What Adrien could have been…

They sat in silence for a while as the teacher talked. Lila hated the quiet, her house was always so silent and still. Félix kept his head down and scribbled away at a notebook. She tried to sneak a peak, just to see what he was writing about, but his hand covered the writing almost instantly. He stared at her.

"Do you need something?" Félix deadpanned. "Or are you just being nosey?"

Lila blinked. How dare he? Nobody at the school talked to her like that! Nobody ever talked to her like that, not since… not since-

"Li-la!" Noemi, her sorelle called out to her. "Come over here!"

Lila was 7, at the time, and loved Noemi more than anyone in the world. Her sister was the sun and Lila was the planets. Noemi was the epitome of perfection. Perfect hair, perfect style, perfect tan, perfect skin, perfect smile. Lila wanted to be just like her.

"Wow Noemi, your sister is like a mini you!" Her sisters friends giggled. Lila liked it when people compared her to Noemi, it meant that she was doing something right.

Besides, the teens weren't wrong. Lila wanted to be like her sister. Neomi wore a pleated baby blue skirt, a black blazer, and a tucked in white shirt. She was so beautiful, at least, in Lila's eyes she was.

"Lila, didn't you get the gymnastics solo in your class? Noemi told us all about it. Congrats! You have such a talented sister Noemi!" The teen girls smiled down at her, but Lila was confused.

She hadn't gotten the solo. Lila was the understudy, whatever that meant. So she told them the truth. That she didn't get the solo. The girls got angry at her, and at Neomi. They left, her sister wasn't pleased.

"Why couldn't you have just gone along with it?! Huh?! Don't you get it, people like you more if your an interesting person! And now you've ruined it for me!" Neomi had screamed in 7 year old Lila's face, which made her cry.

"Don't be pathetic Lila! God. You're hopeless."

"B-but I don't understand! Why would you lie to them if they're your friends?" Lila sniffed, trying to wipe away the tears.

"Lila, it's not lying if you tell them what they want to hear, is it? And besides, keep your little nose out of my business!"

"Hello? Lila Rossi? Are you still here?" Lila blinked and came back to reality, Adrien's clone was waving his hand infront of her face. Rude.

"Ugh," She pushed the hand away from her face. "Yes I'm still here and- wait. How do you know my full name?!"

"Adrien told me, Miss Rossi." His green eyes were like steel, unmoving and cold. "We talk a lot, so I know things."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" She raised her eyebrows, he doesn't know anything about Lila. Not even Lila is sure if she knows anything about Lila.

"Hm, I'm not sure, you seem to be a walking contradiction, Miss Rossi."

"Honestly! My name is Lila," She doesn't tell him how much she hates it, and how even though she's carrying the name of the man who left them, Rossi sounds better to her. "How would you like it if I called you Mister…"

Then Lila realised that she doesn't know his last name.

"De Vanilly, Graham De Vanilly." Then he smirked, just a little, and she wanted to finish her sentence and her thought but Miss Bustier interrupted again!

"Alright kids, we're gonna have a science project in partners this half-term! So I'm gonna read off the pairs, and then you guys can get started on this after school, okay?"

"Zoe and Sabrina, Nino and Luka, Chloe and Ayla, Rose and Juleka, Alix and Mylene, Kim and Max, Marinette and Adrien," Lila glared at the mention of that girl. "Lila and Félix."

Absolutely not!

Lila's hand shot up. "Um, actually Miss Bustier? My parents don't like it when I work with other pupils and so I can't work with Félix!"

"You didn't seem to have an issue when you were working with Adrien on the last project Lila?" The teacher stared at her.

She opened her mouth, not really aware of what she was saying. The story's flowed out of her, winding and winding, coiling up almost everyone in the room. The coils seemed to cut into her. She couldn't help it, and it didn't matter. It doesn't matter.

But she still had to work with Félix. How unfair!

"Well then, come in I guess." Lila held the door open for him.

"Thanks Miss Rossi." He stepped into her room and glanced around, it was a nice room! What was his issue?

"Why do you call me that anyways? It's weird." Lila scoffed, flopping onto her bed. Félix took the seat across from her.

"Oh, I have a system."

"A system? For names?"

"Yes, if you're an acquaintance I call you Mr/Miss/Mx whatever your last name is, family I like are called by their first name, family I don't like are called by their function to me, and friends are either called by their names or a nickname." Félix said, waving his hands slightly as he spoke.

"Huh, so I'm an acquaintance then?"

"No you're a family member- of course you are." Félix said calmly.

Lila made a small mental note to refer to him as his last name, just to annoy him.

"Speaking of family members, did you know I'm distantly related to the British Royal Family?" No! No! Stop talking! Lila wanted to scream.

"Really?"

"Yeah! And I know tons of celebrities, like-"

"No offense, but I think that you're lying to me." De Vanilly stared at her. Lila recoiled - just keep talking! Make him believe you!

"What?! No! I would never!" Yes, Yes you would Lila. You know that you would so why do you say things like that? Bashing her own head into a wall or taping her mouth shut seemed like very favorable options to Lila in that moment.

De Vanilly was quiet for a while, looking around the room. His green eyes settled on her bookshelf. What is he looking at? Lila wondered before realizing. Oh, oh no. He pointed to a picture.

"Is that you?" He asked, moving over and picking the picture up carefully.

The picture was one from Lila's childhood, a family photo of one of Lila's gymnastics contests. Noemi, her mother, and Lila were all staring into the camera. The photo was taken after Lila had "won" the contest. Lila hadn't won, Lila came fourth. But her sister payed to have an exact copy of the first place medal made. They had taken the picture a few days after the actual contest. Neomi was smiling, but it didn't meet her eyes, her mother was looking the other way and Lila, despite her forced grin, looked like she was about to cry.

"Uh yeah, it's a medal that I won, it was awarded to me by Alberto Busnari. Cool right?" She just hoped her smile didn't look pained.

"Yeah, who's that then?" He pointed to the triumphant Neomi, if the medal wasn't around Lila's neck, you would have thought Neomi had won there. Maybe, in a way, she had…

"Oh, that's my sister Neomi," Lila said, wincing slightly, looking at the picture, she looked so much like her.

"You look like her." He looked between her and the picture twice, before settling on her face.

"Well, I'm not her okay?!" Lila hissed. Before covering her mouth with her hands.

Older students.

"Oh isn't that Neomi's sister?"

Her classmates.

"I've heard of Neomi, she's like insta famous! You're so lucky!"

Even her teachers!

"Ah Rossi, you must be related to Neomi then. You have a lot to live up to!"

It was always "Neomi this! Neomi that!" Never about Lila. People only ever liked Lila when she lied.

"Are you… okay? You're shaking." He reached out to touch her.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?! By the way, did you know that I-" Lila turned her brain off as she spoke, rambling about celebrities and adventure.

The boy only looked at her with concern.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks before the incident. De Vanilly had been working with her at Lila's house ("Anything to avoid my uncle," He had said) and their unstable opinions of each other had gotten quite better.

They were walking together, Lila needed to see the counselor for her… condition. And De Vanilly wanted to learn the school's layout, so he went with her. It had been going fine. Things had been fine.

They weren't fine anymore.

It wasn’t Lila's fault. Another lie, designed to make her feel better. She hadn't looked, and ran into that stupid, clumsy girl. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She had tripped, her bag fell to the floor and although she hadn't seen it at the time, her diagnosis papers fell out. Marinette had scuttled away, and Lila clambered off the floor only to see, Vanilly going through her stuff?!

"What are you doing?!" She had yelled, snatching her shoulder bag and papers out of his hands.

"I picked up your stuff. You have Compulsive Lying Disorder?" He had looked at her dead on, bluntly.

Her heart rate quickened. She blinked rapidly. No no no no no, this won't happen again! It won't! It… it can't.

"No! Shut up! I don't have that because if I had that then I would be always lying wouldn't I? And I don't tell lies so why don't you take your false accusations of me and go away!" Lila turned tail and ran out of the school, heart pounding out of her chest, eyes stinging.

Lila gasped as she reached the park near school. This went wrong, so wrong. Now she's gonna have to transfer schools again and she'll be all alone and tell more lies and- Lila vaguely felt tears run down her face. She clutched the diagnosis papers in her arms.

"Guys, guys! I wanna tell you something!" Lila had waved her friends over, excited to tell them about her new label for her mind.

She had tried to explain her disorder to her supposed friends. She had tried, but by then, her friends had already thought she was a liar. And the label, was just the proof they needed. She had only wanted to tell three or four people until she was comfortable.

The next day, when Lila went to school, everyone avoided her. Everyone stared. This went on for two weeks, her trying to reach out and being rebuffed for her efforts. She was confused, they were her friends… weren't they?

Then, the nickname came, nobody addressed her as Lila anymore. It was always "Lie-la" or "Lie-a" with special emphasis put on the lie sound in her name. Eventually, even the teachers called her "Lie-a". And Lila the Liar was born.

Kids would push and shove her in the halls. Then, when Lila accused them, they would just say "Lie-a is just lying! As usual." And they would believe them. Nobody believes a liar.

And soon Lila didn't have any friends at all, no one could trust her not to tell her lies and not even Lila could help but believe them. She was bad. She was awful.

She was a liar!

Her mother moved to Paris. Lila went with her. A new school, a new chance.

Just tell the truth, she had repeatedly told herself, just tell the truth! Another lie that she told herself. She lied to Ayla, she lied to Adrien.

She lied to everyone.

And then, and then! This stupid girl had the nerve to accuse her of lying (Marinette was right). She had the nerve to point out the flaws in her story (It wasn't Marinette's fault that Lila had lied in the first place). And then she told her to stop lying!

...like it would ever be that easy.

But the truth? The truth was that Marinette was the person Lila had wanted to be. Talented, special, honest, LOVED. That was the reason why she hated her. The real one.

"It's called lying!"

"B-but I don't understand! Why would you lie to them if they're your friends?"

Why would you lie to them if you just want them to be your friend Lila?

She hadn't even seen the Akuma coming. It was flying toward her quickly, she gasped. Not today, not now. Please, please! Lila doesn't want to be akumatized again, not right now! Was that pounding noise coming from her? From her beating heart?

It wasn't.

Hurry, hurry! Kali demanded in his head.

Félix was running, he had to get to Rossi. He hadn't meant to find her diagnosis papers, she had to have had a reason not to tell the other pupils about it. Whether it was privacy or a previous experience, everyone deserved the right to tell things when they felt comfortable.

Judging by the look on her face, she was clearly distraught. Félix, for some stupid reason, wanted to make sure she was alright. Make sure that his Uncle didn't get to her first. And he was right. Lila was sobbing on the ground, and although he couldn't see it - Kali could sense the akumas presence.

Watch out! The kwami yelped to him.

She tilted her head up, and there was the Akuma. Ready to pounce. Félix wouldn't let that happen, he may not be a hero, but he has an ounce of compassion!

Lila recoiled, trying to escape the Akuma but- someone jumped in the way… a blond boy wearing a grey sweater?

He winced as the Akuma went into his ring. The boy sharply inhaled. He went completely still for a moment. No…

His head dipped. No, no…

He clenched his fist. No, no, no-!

And then he laughed. He brought his head back up and relaxed his hands, all while laughing.

"You seriously think that I want to help you! That's pathetically naive and genuinely sad. I would never betray my loved ones. Not. Ever." Her acquaintance declared, scratching his arm up and down, the Akuma flew away.

Lila was speechless.

"I- you- Akuma- what?" She forced out, De Vanilly turned around to look her in the face, and he was smiling? Stranger and stranger.

"Didn't you know? Physical pain can ward off Akuma's, only if you don't have the negative energy though," He bent down and sat with Lila on the floor.

"Oh, I bet you're wondering why I followed you. Well, I wanted to apologize. It wasn't right of me to look through your things like that, it was an accident, but I'm still in the wrong. I hate to think what would have happened if I wasn't quick enough…" He placed a hand on hers gently. She looked him in the face, green met green.

"You, you took an Akuma for me." She was confused, nobody had ever done anything for Lila without her having to convince them to. But this boy, who was barely even her acquaintance, had saved her.

"Yes, I did."

"You won't tell anyone right? About my whole disorder thing because then-" She was interrupted.

"Not until you're ready." She smiled gratefully at him.

"Well then, Mr. Graham De Vanilly, it seems I'm in your debt." She said, taking his hand and standing. Although the idea of owing someone made her slightly uncomfortable, maybe he wasn't like most people.

"It seems you are," He began to walk away, heading for the gate to the park.

Her owing someone was something that Lila was unfamiliar with, how did it even work? Would he just tell her what to do or demand something of her. She wasn't sure.

It didn't matter though.

Because, it wasn't like he wanted her around. She was just an acquaintance, he had only helped to make himself feel better. Lila would never have a real friend. Lila had never had a real friend.

That was fine.

She would learn to live with it. Probably.

He stopped.

But then again, Lila thought.

"Actually, I do have an idea of how you can pay me back,"

A real friend might be nice.

Lila whirled around to look at him. "You do?"

Maybe she did want one?

"Yes," De Vanilly said, green eyes glittering like a peridot gem.

Lila did want a friend. But she could never have one.

"How?" She insisted, anything to repay her debt and keep her secret, even if it was embarrassing or annoying.

"You could call me Félix."

Lila Rossi had never had a friend, but there was a first time for everything.

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ificanthaveu · 4 years

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Open Door Policy || Shawn Mendes

Description: You and Shawn Mendes have always been best friends, neighbors and cowriters until you start feeling something more. But how do you tell the guy you write love songs with that you think you love him?

A/N: OK this is another one of those fics that came from a day dream and spun together really quickly. I honestly don’t have much to say and I feel like I usually do but I hope you love it :)

Word Count: 4.5k

As time ticked by so did your patience.

It was nearly 11:00 pm on a Friday, and the last place you wanted to be was in the studio with an up and coming singer-songwriter who thought he was a lot better than he actually was.

You sighed as you leaned back in your chair, watching Hayden scribble something down from the other side of the glass before looking up at you and motioning for you to turn on your mic.

“I got something,” he said with a big grin.

That phrase usually meant you had at least another hour of work to do.

“Shoot,” you said as you grabbed your notebook, prepared to fix the line however you could.

He pointed at his notebook with his pen before saying, “we’re meant to be, but we haven’t figured that part out yet.”

You cocked your head to the side and nodded, the line showing that maybe he was making progress.

“It’s supposed to be you and me, we haven’t figured this out, but I know somehow we’re meant to be?” You said with questioning in your tone as you switched words around to make it rhyme and flow.

“I like that,” Hayden said, jotting down the line again and erasing other things.

“Um, not to rush you, bud, but how much longer are you thinking of working?” You said carefully.

He glanced at his phone propped up next to him.

“Maybe just fifteen minutes? Finish the chorus, and we can finish it and record it next time I see you?” He asked.

You nodded your head as you took note of that.

“Next Tuesday still work?” You asked.

“Perfect,” he said as he hung his headphones up to sit next to you and finish the chorus. It just needed a line or two, or the start of a line or two, and then you could just go home.

“Alright, well, dig into that line you just said,” you started as you turned towards him as he pulled up his chair. “How do you know, but still don’t know?”

He sighed and leaned back, looking at the ceiling and turning his chair in circles slowly.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug.

You tried not to sigh and hang your head, knowing his one line wasn’t going to carry through to a whole chorus.

“I’m just thinking of, like, two friends. And they’ve been friends for a while and there’s this looming feeling that they’re going to end up together, but they just don’t know when or how, and honestly, have kind of been avoiding that feeling without even realizing they’re doing it,” he tried to explain.

“So, everyone knows, no one wants to say it?” You offered.

“Exactly,” he said as he rested his elbows on the table.

You looked through some lines you had written before, trying to see how you could alter them and fit them into the song to convey what he just told you.

“Stuck between something we can’t see…” you trailed off, writing it down in your notebook. “What if we never know what this is really about?”

Silence floated between the two of you as you both wrote them down.

“Man, I was thinking of going towards a happier ending with his, but I like where you’re going,” he said as he closed his notebook.

You shrugged your shoulders, following suit as you put your notebook in your bag along with a few of your other things scattered in front of you.

“Guess that’s just the feelings that want to come out of me right now,” you said with a soft smile.

Hayden looked at you for a moment before standing up.

“I’m not giving up on that happy ending of the song,” he said as he walked to the door, he leaned against the doorway for a moment before continuing. “And neither should you.”

Once he left, you leaned your head against the edge of the chair. He may be a pain in your ass sometimes, but he was always really good at reading you. Which is why you worked well together. And why you were the cowriter on most of his songs.

You finally picked yourself up and gathered your things before locking up the studio. Once you got in your car, you glanced down at your phone for the first time in the past few hours.

5:12 - Shawn: When do you get home? Pizza night?

6:36 - Shawn: Maybe Chinese?

7:04 - Shawn: You know, at this point I might just eat cardboard.

** Missed call - Shawn Mendes - 8:47**

8:48 - Shawn: [Y/N], I’m starving.

9:15 - Shawn: Ok, so I ordered pizza and ate, like, half of it. But stop over once you get home and eat the rest, please.

9:57 - Shawn: I know you don’t like that Hayden guy…is it because he’s been planning to kill you? Are you DEAD?

10:51 - Shawn: FINE, this is my last text, but actually please call me on your way home, so the pizza can be heated up and ready for you :)

You smiled down at the multiple messages before shaking your head and wiping it off your face. You pressed on his contact and put him on speakerphone before pulling out.

“Thank God. You’re not dead,” he answered.

“What do you expect when I’m with Hayden? We never finish anything in a timely manner,” you said through a laugh.

“You finish things in a timely manner. He does not,” Shawn reminded you.

You heard him rustling around as you assumed he was getting the pizza.

“I got pepperoni by the way, and my door is unlocked,” he said.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said as you made the final turn into your apartment complex. “I just pulled in. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“See ya,” he said before hanging up.

You gathered your things and locked your car before heading into the building. You stopped by the front desk to grab a package that was delivered before taking the elevator to the top floor.

There were only four apartments on the top floor. One of them was owned by you. Two were being taken up by rich couples who traveled for a living and were never really there. And the last one was Shawn.

You’d met him through James when you started writing with him when he was on tour with Shawn at the beginning of their careers. You were young and inexperienced, as was James, so you made a good duo. You had no idea Shawn lived in the apartment across from you until after you started moving your things in almost a year after you first met. Shawn kept an eye on your apartment when you were gone, and you did the same for him. But if you asked anyone, it was more like the two of you lived together with how often you’d just walk across the hall into the other’s place.

The elevator dinged, and you made your way to Shawn’s door. You opened the door, and Shawn peaked his head past the wall to see you.

“There you are!” He said with a big smile.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here. Alive,” you said as you set your phone on the counter. “Lemme run this stuff over.”

You crossed the hall, not bothering to close Shawn’s door before you opened your own, also not bothering to close it, and set your package just beyond the door before going to your room to change.

You heard Shawn’s footsteps outside your bedroom before he said, “Do you want a Coke with your pizza?”

“You shouldn’t have to ask that,” you said through a sigh as you opened your door, this time in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

Shawn rolled his eyes. “It’s almost midnight.”

“You can’t have pizza without Coke,” you reminded him.

“Alright, fine,” he said as you followed him back to his kitchen, closing both doors behind you.

Shawn had your pizza set out for you with a glass of Coke next to it. He sat down across from you as you took your first bite.

“Write anything good today?” He asked, sipping at his water.

You nodded your head and swallowed. “Yeah, he actually came up with some pretty good lines today. I don’t know if it’ll be a single, but it’ll make the album.”

“What’s it about?”

“Being friends with someone, and kind of knowing you’re going to end up with them, but not really knowing when or how or how to even convey those feelings,” you said slowly.

“Sounds complicated,” he said.

“You bet,” you mumbled before taking a sip.

“Have you ever felt that?” Shawn asked.

“Felt what?”

“You just described it,” he said with a small smile.

You returned the smile and took another sip.

“Yeah, but I need you to explain it another way, so I can use it for the final verse.”

“Do I get a writing credit?”

“That’s up to Hayden, so probably not.”

He laughed as he leaned his elbows on the table and cocked his head to the side.

“The questioning,” he started before pausing and looking out the window behind you. “Like you’re with this person and one moment, you think, this is it. This person is the one you’re going to spend forever with. And then the next…” he trails off. “You’re doubting everything you’ve ever known about them. About love. About the two of you. And you don’t want to screw it up. Because you’d rather ignore the love you feel than screw up this beautiful thing you already have.”

You stayed quiet as he described it. You didn’t notice you hadn’t responded until your eyes met his, and you nodded your head.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I get it. It’s complicated.”

“Exactly,” he said just as quietly.

It went quiet again as you finished your slice of pizza.

“Did I just give you your last verse?” He said through a smile.

You shrugged as you grabbed your notebook from your bag and scribbled down a few of the words and phrases he used: questioning, moments, doubt, beautiful thing, screw it up.

“We’ll see. Hayden wants a happy ending, but with where we are now, I don’t know if that’s going to happen,” you said as you looked Shawn in the eyes.

“Never know,” he responded.

“That’s what he said.”

“I think he’s smarter than we give him credit for.”

Shawn took your plate from you and put it in the dishwasher as you kept sipping at your drink and adding notes to the words you just added.

“So…I know you’ve been writing all day, but-“ Shawn started before you cut him off by holding your hand up.

“No ‘but’s. It’s almost midnight,” you said.

“[Y/N], I already owe you my life and my firstborn child. Please, for the life of me, just look at the verse I’ve written so far,” he begged.

You groaned as you rested your head on the counter in front of you.

“Do I get a writing credit?” You mumbled.

“You have a writing credit on half the songs on my new album,” he said as you lifted your head up. “And you’ll have it on this one, too. Like always.”

“You’re too nice to me, Mendes,” you said as you stood up and walked towards his piano in his makeshift studio.

Shawn sat down at the piano, and you leaned on the side of it.

He started playing softly and humming along to the song inside his head. You got lost in how his hands moved across the piano and how his body moved when he pressed down on a pedal, watching the expression on his face as he sang.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

You hadn’t even registered anything he just sang.

“Um,” you said softly as you sat down next to him to look at the lyrics jotted down on his notebook and quickly read over them. “Well, I like the music.”

“That was the most backhanded compliment you’ve ever given me,” he said through a laugh. “Do you like any of the lyrics?”

“Don’t say, ‘I’m falling in love,’” you said as you took the pencil out of his hand and crossed out the line. “There are so many better ways to say that and falling in love is a made-up term by The Bachelor.”

“It is not made up,” he defended. “You’ve never felt that feeling? That feeling of knowing you’re going to be in love with someone, but not quite there yet?” He asked.

You shrugged as you looked down at the keys your hands were laid on.

“I just think there are better ways of saying you’re falling for someone,” you said quietly.

“Enlighten me,” he said as he turned to look at you, leaning his elbow on top of the piano.

“Feeling something I’ve never felt before, the start of something worthwhile, the beginning of what could be,” you rattled off.

“None of those fit in the other lyrics,” he said. “And I write what I feel, and this is what I’m feeling right now.”

“You’re falling in love? How are you so sure?” You asked, not even wanting to know who it could be.

He shrugged as he tore his eyes away from you to play the notes again.

“You just know,” he whispered before looking at you. “And that’s how I know you’ve never felt it.”

Your hands slammed down on the keys as you let them loosen up.

“I had a boyfriend for over a year before I came out here,” you reminded him. “And I loved him.”

“But were you in love with him?” He asked.

“There is no difference.”

“There is definitely a difference.”

“Well, then I guess I don’t know it,” you said a little louder than expected. “Happy?”

Shawn didn’t say anything as he stared down at his hands. You ran your hands down your face before staring at the lyrics jotted across his notebooks and your harsh line drawn through them. It was safe to say that you weren’t feeling the love songs.

“I’m sorry,” you said, still not looking at him. “I just haven’t really been in the right headspace to write happy love songs.”

“Why?” He asked.

You shook your head softly. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated.”

“Yeah.”

Silence filled the room again as you both sat facing the piano, your legs almost brushing up against each other.

“I should go to bed,” you whispered.

“Yeah, yeah, me too,” he said back.

Neither of you moved, still staring at the piano or the notebook or the wall behind both.

“I have a question,” Shawn whispered.

You didn’t respond and instead turned to look at him.

He cracked a smile as he looked at you and said, “How do you write the best love songs I’ve ever heard when you’ve never experienced being in love?”

“Talent and a romcom obsession,” you said with a smile.

Shawn laughed and leaned his head back for a moment.

“Well, you got me there.”

You both stood up at the same time, and Shawn followed you out of the room. You grabbed your phone and bag off the counter before making your way to the door.

“I’ll see you later,” you said with a smile before Shawn nodded at you and you left.

Shawn sighed and hung his head back as he nearly punched the wall in front of him. But instead of having to explain that to your building manager again, he went back to his studio, playing the same notes over and over again, not getting what you said out of his head.

Meanwhile, you willed yourself not to cry as you climbed into your bed and pulled your covers up over your head. You sighed and laid on your back, staring at your ceiling.

You couldn’t blame Shawn for anything. He loved everything he encountered.

You just couldn’t do it as easily as him, which is something he couldn’t really wrap his head around.

Because how were you supposed to write love songs about the guy who was writing them about someone else?

You could hear his piano still playing softly. Your phone lit up before you could text him.

Shawn: You were right. “The beginning of what could be” sounds way better.

You smiled softly before quickly typing back.

[Y/N]: Go to bed, rockstar.

—

You heard rustling just moments before a pillow hit you in the head. You groaned and rolled over, burying your head underneath the covers.

“Get up,” Shawn said as he kept hitting you.

“No,” you mumbled as you glanced at your watch. “We didn’t go to bed until nearly 1:00 am, and you’re waking me up at 8:00? What have I ever done to you?”

“You said you’d work out with me this morning,” he said with a tinge of sadness in his voice as you turned to look at him.

“I thought you meant around 11:00.”

“That is not the morning.”

“It most certainly is.”

“Please, I’m hanging out with Brian and Connor at noon, and you promised me,” he begged.

“I have never broken a promise with you,” you started.

“Exactly.”

“...and now’s the perfect time to start,” you finished, turning over again.

“What? No,” he said, yanking your covers off you and off the bed completely.

This made you shoot up and glare at him.

“Are you going to be the one to make my bed now?” You asked.

“No, now get dressed. Let’s go,” he said as he walked out of your room.

Ten minutes later, and you were walking out of the building for a run with Shawn, still cursing him that you were up this early on a Saturday. But once your music started playing and you started running, you weren’t threatening his death any longer.

You followed closely to Shawn as he lead the way through your usual route to a park down the street. The plan was to run there, hike and then run back.

You made it to the park and slowed to a walk as you followed a path that Shawn picked.

“Any chance you’re available to head to the studio at some point this week?” Shawn asked with a pleading smile.

You rolled your eyes at him before you answered, “I’m pretty booked, so it depends. I think Thursday morning is the only thing I can do unless you want to do it at midnight.”

“I can make Thursday morning work,” he said, dodging a branch. “I’m going to need help finishing that song then because you were definitely right.”

“I always am,” you said with a smile as he bumped his shoulder into you.

“Also, I’m sorry about last night. I went too far with the love thing,” he said quietly.

You nodded your head, not wanting to look at him.

“It’s fine. I guess no one’s ever really asked about it. I just wasn’t prepared,” you paused. “And you know I’m not as good at saying things as I am as turning them into a song.”

“You and me both,” he replied. “How come you don’t write a song about it then?”

“About never being in love?”

“Yeah, it’s real feelings. It’s what you’re feeling right now. And maybe for once, you could keep it for yourself,” he said.

“I don’t sing. I write,” you reminded him.

“You can definitely sing.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to do it in front of people.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m just saying it could help to write about it since you don’t want to talk about it. I know how you are,” he reminded you. “I know this would be a lot easier than talking about it. Even if you just trash the song after, and it never sees the light of day.”

“Maybe I will,” you said with a nod.

“I won’t be home until late tonight, so the piano is all yours,” he tempted.

“You really know how to get me,” you said with a laugh.

“Better than you’ll ever realize.”

—

You heard Shawn’s apartment door slam as he left to go see Brian and Connor. You took that as your cue to grab your notebook and laptop and head over to Shawn’s apartment.

The door was unlocked as usual, and you grabbed water from his fridge before going to his little studio. You set your things down on top of the piano before making yourself comfortable.

You didn’t even know where to start. You weren’t used to writing something like this. You didn’t even know what things you said in songs about not being in love.

You pressed a few keys, trying out a melody you had come up with a few days before. You hummed slowly to it, writing down words that came to mind.

“But maybe I’m wrong,” you sang quietly. “Maybe it’s been in front of me all along.”

You wrote it down before sitting back again.

“Maybe my front door has always been open, maybe you’ve always walked through, maybe it’s always been you,” you sang louder.

“I’ve never felt like this,” you paused. “But with you, I wouldn’t mind.”

You wrote it all down quickly as it flowed out of you, taking Shawn’s idea and mixing it with how you’ve been feeling about him lately.

You tapped your pencil along your notebook as you thought of the next verse, getting lost in what time it even was as you finally felt like you were being honest about what you were feeling.

—

He heard it before anything else. As the door cracked open, the soft noise of the piano and the hum of your voice came rushing out of the room as if it had to get out. As if it had to be anywhere but with you. As if it was looking for Shawn and trying to pull him in.

Shawn didn’t make a noise as he walked into his apartment and made his way to the studio to see you still sitting at the piano, putting your whole body into the keys of the piano and into the words you were singing.

He almost spoke up until he listened.

Your voice sounded so delicate yet powerful as you maneuvered into the chorus of the song, singing about feeling things you’d never felt before. The subtle references to a neighbor and unlocked doors didn’t make it past Shawn. He could feel his cheeks heating up as he didn’t know whether to walk out and act like he hadn’t heard it or just sit down next to you.

Before he could make the decision, you made it for him as you turned to grab your water but froze when you saw him standing there. You could see his pink-tinted cheeks from a mile away.

“Shawn,” you said softly, feeling your heart beat out of your chest, stuck between hoping he’d heard it and hoping he didn’t.

“Hey,” he said back just as soft.

“You’re home early.”

“Yeah.”

Silence filled the room as Shawn finally moved to the piano bench to sit next to you, your legs pressed against one another as both of you tried to calm your breathing.

“It’s a beautiful song,” Shawn finally said, letting his hands land on the keys and looking up at your notebook with scribbles and lyrics.

“Thanks,” you choked out.

“Sounded like you were really saying what you felt,” he paused. “What you truly felt?” He said in a questioning tone as he looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“Uh,” you paused, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this one. “Yeah,” you said through an exhale of breath.

Shawn played the notes you had written out, the only noise being the music he was playing.

The music you had just written about him.

“It’s beautiful.”

“You said that already.”

Silence filled the room again as Shawn stopped playing.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said quietly.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you said quickly after. “You really don’t.”

“But I want to,” he said slowly as he turned to look at you.

“What do you want to say?” You asked.

“What’s this song about?” He asked in return.

You went silent, turning away from him and back to staring at your notebook.

“About not knowing what love is until you think you’ve found it.”

“And did you find it?”

“I don’t know. That’s the whole point of the song.”

“Open doors and something that feels like it could be more,” he sang softly.

“Please just say something,” you finally said.

Shawn stayed quiet and your head told you to run.

You grabbed your notebook and laptop with one swoop as you stood up and walked out of the room. You heard the screeching of the piano bench as Shawn stood up quickly to follow you, catching you as you left his apartment.

He grabbed your wrist to stop you before you made it to your door. You didn’t turn around and willed yourself not to cry as you gripped onto your things with all the life you had left in you.

“They’re about you,” he said as he let go of you. “Every song I’ve written for the past year. They’ve all been about you.”

Your heart beat out of your chest as you turned to look at him. His cheeks were just as pink as before and he was breathing heavily, his chest moving just a little too quickly as he just stared at you.

“It’s funny. It’s really actually really funny because you help me write most of my songs. You’ve been writing songs about yourself for over a year now and -“

Before you could overthink it, you took a step forward and pressed your lips to his to shut him up. After a moment of shock, his arm held onto your hip and pulled you closer to him as his other hand held your chin up. Your left arm stayed around your laptop and your right one found its way to his cheek. You only stopped once you thought you were about to drop everything, but even then, your forehead stayed settled against his as you both breathed heavily.

“It’s about you,” you whispered. “You said to write it into a song. About never being in love. But you were right. I think falling in love is more real than I gave you credit for.”

“How so?” He said as a smile graced his face. “You falling in love or something?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Maybe you can just sing it for me sometime?”

“My door is always open.”

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horansqueen · 3 years

Text

Stuck With You - Chapter 10

Chapter 10 : If Only

🡪chapter 1 🡪chapter 2 🡪chapter 3 🡪chapter 4 🡪chapter 5 🡪chapter 6 🡪chapter 7 🡪chapter 8 🡪chapter 9

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

Well every single time I see you I start to feel this way It makes me wonder if I am ever gonna feel this way again. Then I hear myself reply "You've got to hold it in" this time tonight There's a feeling screaming in the back of my head Saying it over and over

If only I had the guts to feel this way if only you'd look at me and want to stay if only I’d take you in my arms and say That I won't go cuz I need you

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What woke me up the next day is the sound of someone walking quickly but gently around the room. I felt a shiver cross my whole body, realizing I didn't have any blanket over me. I reached for one and pulled it over me, ready to fall asleep, when I remembered my evening. I had spent a good part of the evening locked in a bathroom with Niall, he drove me and Louis home, we lied down in the same bed but most of all, he had kissed me. I felt my heart flutter as I held my breath, living over the kiss in my head. His body was warm, just like his lips, and I whimpered low as the moment played over and over in my head.

"Shit!" someone whispered after a light sound.

It made me frown and I forced myself to wake up and sit in bed, my palm pressing and rubbing my tired eyes. Niall had kissed me, it was true, but he had also ran away right after, and that meant I had no idea what was going on in his mind, or what I could expect from him this morning. His mood swings, or whatever it was, were driving me insane.

"Niall?"

He turned to me suddenly, his eyes getting slightly bigger when he noticed I was awake, and held his breath. His eyes roamed on me and I immediately felt self-conscious. I probably looked like an idiot, but at the same time, it wasn't the first time he was seeing me in the morning.

"Hey uhm, go back to bed, I didn't want to wake you up." he let out low but a bit nervously. "I just needed to get changed and pick my stuff, I have somewhere to be."

I pressed my lips together, blinking a few times until I was completely awake, and started playing with my fingers.

"Niall, about last night-"

He kept rummaging through his stuff without looking at me. "Look, Devon." he cut me with a sigh. "I don't really have time to deal with that right now."

The first thing that hit me was how hurt I was that he hadn't called me 'Devie', the way he always does. I knew it was mostly to tease me, but it actually grew on me and I ended up liking it. No one else had ever nicknamed me like that before.

"What do you mean, 'deal with it'?"

"I mean I don't have time to talk, okay?" he grabbed his back pack, eyeing his guitar and finally sighing again. "I'll be back late. Or not at all. Hope you have a nice day."

My eyes followed him as he walked until the door, opening it and glancing back at me before leaving. The door closed behind him and that's when I realized I was holding my breath. I emptied my lungs and inhaled again before closing my eyes and sighing. It could have been worse. At least, he had acknowledged me. He had even talked to me, and looked at me, which were two things he didn't really do during the low moments of his mood swings, so that was something, right?

I brought my hand to my mouth, running two of my fingertips on my bottom lip, remembering when he kissed me once again. I never thought a simple kiss could obsess me that much but it did. There was something about Niall that I needed, something that I lusted, something that I wanted... and I couldn't explain it. But I had to face reality, even if admitting it, even to myself, seemed totally horrible. I liked Niall. I really really liked Niall. For the most part, he was the opposite of my ex boyfriend, at least when he was in a good mood, and I chuckled low when I realized it was probably his best quality, which obviously didn't mean that I liked when he'd ignore me. In fact, that was something I really hated, and that reminded me of my ex boyfriend, unfortunately. I had been played so much before and I had promised myself no one would ever use me that way again. There must have been something extremely wrong with me if the men around me would ignore me whenever they didn't feel like it, right? I was not a toy to play with, and I deserved so much better... didn't I?

I sighed again and my eyes fluttered open. Of course, Niall didn't owe me anything, and the fact that I desperately wanted him in my life was going to remain a secret. I just wished he wouldn't pretend nothing had happened, because something had, and clearly, it had meant something. It was not alcohol, since neither of us really drank, and that kiss couldn't be excused by an intoxication. Thinking about it made me feel ecstatic and I cleared my throat, trying to push the thought away.

All the thoughts, questions and memories in my mind kept getting mixed together, confusing me even more. I finally decided to take a quick shower and dress up before leaving my room. I had nothing to do and nowhere to go but I ended up walking around without a specific destination. It was no surprise when I ended up in front of my unfinished painting. I stared at it for a while, blinking as I focused on the navy blue slowly turning into black on my canvas, before finally sitting in front of it. I felt something twist in my stomach at all the feelings reaching me as I looked at my own painting and the pain inside me was sharper than a knife. To me, what was on this canvas was so obvious that I felt naked and somehow, it made me think about Niall and when I saw him write a song on the piano. I had seen him vulnerable in a way too when I spied on him as he composed a song, and even if I still felt guilty about it, it made me see a side of him that I probably would have never seen in any other circumstances. I felt like I connected with him because of that and as my eyes roamed on my panting, I realized perhaps he couldn't connect with me the same way. After all, I hadn't opened up to him and he didn't see any of my art either.

I sat in front of my half-done painting and without thinking, I grabbing my brush and started adding colors. I had done a few nature paintings before, and I did enjoy the techniques and dimensions, but throwing paint at my canvas depending on how I felt had always been my favorite form of art, if only because it was abstract and I didn't have to follow many instructions except those my guts and heart were telling me.

I ended up straining my pants and shirt but it didn't matter. After half an hour, I was done, and my lips parted when I realized I had never worked so fast before. I stared at my creation, immediately hating it even if I knew it would pass, and I closed my eyes. I breathed in an out for about a minute and finally opened my eyes again. My painting was still there and my heart twisted in my chest. It surprised me because I was pretty sure I had thrown all of it on that fucking canvas.

I got up and licked my lips, breathing in deeply and taking a step back. I decided to leave it there and perhaps, at some point, I could show it to Niall. Maybe I would have the guts to show him all the feelings inside me, all the things I had gone through, all the betrayal, rejection and fake love I had received before even knowing him... but it wouldn't be today.

I finally turned around and left, walking very quickly and randomly in the halls. I realized it was not so random when I heard the notes on a piano and a voice that I could recognize anywhere now, especially because it always brought a special kind of pain in my chest.

"Dear Patience If I pour my heart out, can you keep a promise? 'Cause the situation Is like a mountain that's been weighing on my conscience If I'm being honest"

I held my breath and only pushed the air out of my lungs when the notes and the voice stopped. I moved closer to the door and peaked inside, my heart jumping at the sight of Niall, scribbling in a notebook. Once again, he was sitting in front of his piano and when he brought his fingers back over the keys, I held my breath again.

"Hey, can you show your face? Can you see that I'm anxious? Can you hear what I'm saying, saying? Hey, 'cause I fall too fast And I go down blazing Can you hear what I'm saying?"

My eyes fluttered close and I pressed my lips together, the sound of the notes invading me as his voice made my whole body throb. I leaned against the wall but tripped on my feet, letting out a curse word. The piano and the voice stopped at the same time and quickly, I turned around and left. I felt like my heart was about to explode in my chest when I heard a "Hey!" coming from behind. I brought my shoulders up and closer to my cheeks but didn't slow down until he reached me. His hand touched my upper arm gently and swiftly, I turned around, coming face to face with Niall.

"Devie, hey."

My lips curled slightly at the nickname and I licked my lips. "S-Sorry Niall, I didn't want to spy, I just-"

"What are you doing here, Devie?" he cut me, frowning at me as he put his hands on his hips, staring down at me. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing I just, I felt like painting." I explained, shrugging a shoulder. "So I painted. And then I heard a piano and a voice. And it was you. That's all."

"Pretty sure the painting class isn't around here." he pointed out, making me blink a few times.

I started playing with my fingers nervously and swallowed. "I know, I just walked around and ended here."

I glanced around us, noticing there was literally no one around. Everyone was probably doing something else with their sunday, something like relaxing, spending time with friends, or any other hobby normal people have.

"Okay." he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and making me even more anxious.

"I thought there would be like ten of you, singing random songs together whenever you didn't have class." I joked with a chuckle, making him smile.

"This is not a Disney movie, you know." he pointed out, smiling more. "There's a lot of heavy curse words and throwing notebooks and pens around the room violently."

This time, I laughed and shook my head as he took a step closer, letting his arms fall on each sides of him. He frowned a bit and bent down slightly to look at me before bringing one of his hands up again. My heart threatened to get out of my chest when his face was only a few inches away from mine and I couldn't help but think he was about to kiss me again. Instead, I felt my eyes flutter as he brought his thumb right under my eye, on my cheekbone.

"You're got some blue paint here." he whispered before wiping it slowly.

I felt disappointed that I couldn't feel his lips on mine again, but the way he had touched me made me feel a bit dizzy and my lips parted.

"Thank you." I breathed out, staring at him.

"Don't thank me." he chuckled. " I think I made it worse."

I chuckled too and licked my lips before pressing them together. "Look, Niall, about last night."

"Dev, I need to go, okay? I'll see you soon."

"Wait, Niall!" I let out, taking a step closer as he took one back. "I just-"

"Sorry!"

He turned around and started jogging back to where he came from and I sighed a bit too loud. The truth was, I had no idea what I was going to tell him. That I liked the kiss? That I wanted to kiss him again, and maybe even more? That I actually liked him? That simple thought was ridiculous, no... I would have probably ended up telling him that it was ok, that I knew he regretted it, and that we could pretend it never happened. It was not what I felt, but what else could I tell him?

I could have just gone back to talk to him. After all, I knew exactly where he was and what he was doing, but I decided against it. I couldn't force him to talk to me and maybe it was better this way.

I stood motionless just staring in front of me for a while, until I heard my phone. I grabbed it from my pocket, almost dropping it, and noticed all the blue and black paint on my hands. Now I knew how some of it had ended up on my cheek. I wouldn't admit it out loud, but I was happy it did, if only to have this interaction with Niall.

'Dinner. With me. Tonight.'

I smiled fondly at my phone and quickly typed a reply to Louis.

'How about now? I'm starving.'

He just replied with a thumb up emoji and I walked back to my room, smiling when I saw Louis leaned against my door, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed.

"Hey you!" I just said when I stopped in front of him. "How's your head today?

"Bad. My whole body hurts. It feels like I was ran over by a truck. How are you?"

"I didn't really drink." I admitted with a shrug. "You know, in case you needed someone to bring you back home."

"You needed to be sober to ask Niall for a ride?" he asked with a frown, a smirk gracing his lips.

I raised my nose in a grimace and groaned low, making him laugh. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into a hug. His hoodie was soft and warm and I just closed my eyes, inhaling deeply his scent. It reminded me of how good Niall smelled last night, in my bed, and I felt my heart jump in my chest. I recognized this feeling, and I hated this feeling.

"So, how about chinese food?"

----

"Wait, he kissed you?"

We had decided to eat in his room, sitting on the floor, and I thought we would put a movie on but we just ended up talking together. I loved talking with Louis, he was pretty much my only friend here anyway. Hell, he was probably the only friend I had in the whole wide world.

"Mmhm, but then you were sick and he brought you back to your room and spent the night with you." I explained, my eyes locked on the noodles in my bowl at I moved my spoon in it.

Letting all that out was embarrassing but at the same time, I felt like Louis was the only one I could share this with. I was also extremely confused by Niall's behavior and by mine, too. What was I doing exactly? Why did I want to get closer to Niall so bad and why did it matter if he was nice to me or not?

"Ouch, sorry about that." he grimaced before I shrugged. It was not Louis' fault and I would never blame him for it. "Wow, I can't believe he kissed you." Louis added in a low tone before putting way too many noodles in his mouth and chewing. "Never thought he'd make a move so early."

"What?" I asked as my heart skipped a few beats. "Why do you say that?"

He stopped chewing and his eyes met mine as I remained motionless, my lips slightly parted. Did I really hear what I thought I heard?

"Dev, do I have to state the obvious?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as I frowned. "Niall likes you!" he added a bit louder before chuckling. "He's liked you since the first day he met you!"

My frown turned into a smile and I rolled my eyes with a chuckle. "Yea, sure, of course." I let out sarcastically, putting my bowl away and leaning against his bed. "Niall Horan likes me."

The thought was so ridiculous that I laughed a bit more and shook my head.

"He does."

"He's been an ass to me since day one. He's rude to me or ignores me. Just because he kissed me one time doesn't mean he actually has feelings for me."

Louis kept quiet and when I turned my head to look at him, he was staring at me with a smirk on his face, noodles in his fork up in mid-air.

"What?"

"You like him." he pointed out, making me suddenly embarrassed as I frowned again.

"No."

"You fookin' like him!" he repeated, bursting into laughter. "You should see your face!"

"Shut up!"

Louis pushed my upper arm slightly, making me tilt slightly as I groaned. I hated that he said that because I hadn't admitted that to myself just yet. Perhaps, the fact that I liked Niall was very obvious but I just hoped it was not. I didn't even know how to deal with that new feeling and I certainly didn't want anyone to try and analyze how I felt.

"You like him!" he added, making me groan low again before I turned and pushed him gently at my turn.

The cup of noodles slipped out of his hand and ended on my thighs. I let out a short yell and held my breath as the warm liquid soaked my pants and the bottom of my shirt.

"Fuck! I'm sorry!" Louis let out before chuckling again. "Sorry, this is way too funny!"

He got up as I remained still, trying not to make it worse. After a few seconds, he handed me a hoodie and I just stared at it. What would Niall say if I walked back to our room wearing Louis' hoodie? I knew it shouldn't bother me but Niall seemed to get pissed whenever I said something about Louis and I felt like it would make things worse between us.

"Thanks Louis, but I'll just go get changed." I just said, getting up, feeling how drenched my pants were. "It's not like my room was very far."

"Okay, I'll pick a movie while waiting for you, if you want."

"Mmhm, good idea."

I walked out of his room and reached mine with only a few steps and without thinking, I turned the knob and opened the door. Niall was there, completely naked, laying on top of the brunette I remember seeing at the party, the one he had his arm around. They both stopped what they were doing when they noticed me and Niall turned his head to look at me. I suddenly felt nauseous and dazed, so much that I had to hold the knob harder and lean my other hand on the door frame.

I could swear I saw guilt in Niall's eyes but I was probably just dreaming. I blinked a few times, swallowing the tears that threatened to come out. It was so tough to do that it started physically hurting and I just cleared my throat.

"Sorry, I just..."

"Why don't you just get the fuck out?" I heard the brunette yell.

I didn't send her a glance. I just kept looking at Niall, feeling my heart twist so hard in my chest I could swear it had completely broke, and the worse was that he stared back. He was deep inside an other girl and his eyes were on me, and all I could think about was that I hoped my pain was not showing on my face, because I didn't want him to know that I was fucking hurt by the fact that he was shagging an other girl after kissing me less than 24 hours before.

Like an idiot, I waited. I waited for what seemed like an hour, but was probably just about a minute. I waited for him to apologize. I waited for him to tell me it meant nothing, and that it was a mistake. But I waited in vain because after a while, his gaze just dropped, and I decided that I had seen enough. I had waited enough. I didn't know what I was expecting anyway.

"Fuck you."

My voice was low but firm and with those words, I took a step back and closed the door gently.

REQUEST

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan smut #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #niall horan story #niall horan au #niall horan college au #niall horan enemies to lovers #my fanfics #swy #do you hate me now?#chapter is a bit longer but it had to be sorry :)

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rosaliepostsstuff · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5 - Of Halloween and Fred’s bluntness

series masterlist

tags: @weasleysbees ; @gloryekaterina ; @thatguppienamedbae ; @sagittarius-flowerchild; @hufflepuff5972 ; @pandaxnienke ; @izzyyy-1

if you’d like to be added/removed, send a DM or an ask

warnings: swearing, sexual references, mentions of food and eating, alcohol consumption word count: 1749 a/n: This might’ve been the most fun to write chapter yet. Surprise in form of diving into George’s mind for a chapter! a/n 2: I planned out and published the chapter titles in advance on purpose, as a little teaser, so you could try to figure out what the plot could be and I cannot express enough how excited I am for the next one

If you have any feedback, please let me know!

—————⑤—————

George woke up from blissful sleep to be met with a dull headache. He went to reach and open the curtain of his four-poster, rubbing his face in the process and winced immediately, reminding himself of previous day’s events.

He lay back on the pillow, his bottom lip throbbing slightly.

He brought his fingers to the swollen lip, touching it carefully, thinking back to how your fingers would brush over it delicately as you tended to him last evening. You were too good for him.

Fred’s heavy groan, signalling his wake up, distracted George from going down the same path again as last night when his thoughts went spiralling, going over and over the short conversation you had right afterwards, until he passed out and fell asleep.

He stretched in his bed and lazily got up, ready to start the day.

—————⑤—————

They walked down the spiralled steps quickly, on their way to grab lunch, as it was way past time for breakfast. George slipped into the common room and saw you waiting at the table, writing something in your small notebook. You looked up soon enough and your eyes lit up when they met his, you slammed shut the notebook and slipped it into your bag.

“Hi there,” you waved to the three boys, walking up to them. Your gaze travelled to George’s lip and he noticed concern flood your eyes right away. You truly looked like an angel, smiling like that.

“How’s it feel?” you asked, twisting your face a bit and pointing at his mouth once you started walking. “Alright,” he answered, nodding, “it seems to be healing well, whatever you rubbed in it must’ve helped,” he smiled. “Ah see, magic,” you said, smugly, trying to appear mysterious. “Pure love,” Fred exclaimed, walking in the front, “and just the right amount of spit,” he added, turning to you for a moment, making the rest of you laugh.

“Have you managed to finish your costumes?” You asked enthusiastically, before bringing a forkful into your mouth. “Yup,” George replied, clearly proud of himself. “We’re gonna look absolutely wicked, I’m so glad we agreed on this,” Lee stated, and you smiled wider at the boys.

“Are you doing any make-up?” Fred asked. You bit your lip in thought, “Dunno… I mean, they’re cartoons, I don’t think they wear make-up..? But maybe…why?” “If you’re wearing make-up, and we’re not” Fred gestured between himself and George, “then we won’t be matching anymore,” he reasoned. “True. I could come over and we’d do it together, I could help you out. Might be fun. George..?” you asked, checking if he had any objections. “I’m cool,” he said, shrugging.

George was lying in bed, in his outfit, waiting. Lee was putting on some finishing touches to his costume and Fred was still in his boxers and socks. Five minutes before the appointed time, they heard your signature knock on the door.

You walked in and upon seeing Fred’s ‘too-close-to-naked’ butt turned to you, twisted your face and gagged as a hello. “You’re early, sunshine,” Fred said cheekily, walking behind his bed and pulled back the curtain to get dressed behind it. George took a moment to notice how cute you looked in your costume. “On time, five minutes early,” you countered and went to sit down on George’s bed.

You gave him an appraising look, scanning him from head to toe and he felt a strong urge to pull his skirt down, making you chuckle. “Nice legs,” you winked. “I’d argue,” Fred declared, raising one of his own legs tantalizingly from behind the curtain.

“What’s up with your face?” Lee gave you a puzzled sort of look, only now turning to you properly.

Now that George thought about it, it did look a bit weird.

“I prepped my face and did my foundation, I’ll do the rest once I know what those two want me to do to their faces,” you said.

Yes, yes now that would explain it.

You opened your makeup bag and pulled some stuff George had no clue about. He’s never actually seen you do your makeup. At school, if you’re wearing any, he always saw you already in it. The only opportunity would be perhaps while you’re staying at the Burrow, but then you rarely bother wearing makeup.

Fred insisted on being your subject first. He wasn’t a very good one, though. Rather impatient and very mobile, restless, earning himself a few smacks on the shoulder from you.

Then it was George’s turn. He sat on the bed, facing you, and you shifted to sit as close as possible, to make your job easier. He felt your breath on his face as you scanned it carefully, then you got to work.

It came to his attention he rarely got to see your face from this perspective. Right in front of his eyes, and so close. All of your facial features, so familiar to him, he got to know even better.

“George…” you scolded him gently. “What?” he asked, genuinely confused. Were you talking about something and he wasn’t listening? No, he’d have noticed, he was staring at your lips. “Don’t move away! I can’t do it precisely when you lean back and I have to reach like that.” “I’m not leaning back,” George denied. “You’re leaning back, mate,” Fred pointed out and George realised he was, in fact, involuntarily leaning further back every time your face got closer.

He straightened his back once again and this time your face got pushed away like it was the same magnetic pole as his.

“You’re getting circles under your eyes,” he went to distract you, “you keep staying up lately.” You sighed softly, like you always do when he calls you out on something, but you know he’s right. “I don’t think I’ll have to anymore. Or not much longer, so I’ll get better with my sleep,” you explained. “And are you finally going to tell me what is it, that you were doing?” he asked accusingly. These past few weeks you kept brushing him off with ‘I’ll tell you soon enough’. “Better yet,” you smirked mischievously, “I might show you today if we leave before the sunset. It won’t be as impressive in the dark,” you stated, making the three boys’ curiosity peak.

You carefully put on some finishing touches on George’s lips, careful of the cut. “Voila!” you exclaimed, pulling away to admire your work.

Fred looked at his brother with a frown, then glanced at himself in a mirror. “You did a wonky job on my eyes!” he said, pointing his finger. “Uhh- you did a wonky job staying still,” you replied, grabbing all the necessary products to finish your makeup in front of a mirror. The boys found watching you do it surprisingly satisfying.

“Oh, and Julie’s coming over later so I’ll be hanging out with her,” Fred noted as the four of you left their dorm. “Congratulations,” George said sarcastically and Fred gave him a look. “So what?” “So, you know what hanging out means. I need you out of the room,” Fred replied, accentuating the last part.

George groaned. He knew he’d be tired after going out and the prospect of not being able to get back to his room for Merlin knows how long was not welcome, but he didn’t argue.

“Oh come on, Merlin knows you should get laid. You’d relax a little,” Fred stated (Lee snorted in the background) and George glared at him, feeling betrayed. Fred looked at your surprised face, “and you too. Both of you, actually,” he added, waving his finger between George and you. (Lee crouched down to avoid collapsing from laughing so hard.)

You and George stared at him with your jaws dropped, mortified. “Oh, my sweet little beans, I didn’t say you have to get laid with each other!” Fred clasped his hands dramatically, “…necessarily,” he added with a sweet, mischievous smile.

George smacked his brother across the head. You started laughing, partly as a defensive reaction, partly because of Lee’s contagious laughter.

—————⑤—————

On your way to Hogsmeade, you went off-course a little. You led the boys towards one of the outer sides of the castle, near the clocktower courtyard and a path leading to the lake. Once you were out in the open, it was hard to miss – a huge, windowless, wall, and on it-

“Pink toad can suck a butt?” Lee read out loud. “What is that?!” Fred questioned in disbelief. You crossed your arms on your chest proudly, “Moss graffiti. Alicia and I did this,” you explained gazing once again at your masterpiece. George looked at the writing in amusement, “And you did all this-“ “In the cover of the night, yeah,” you replied before he could finish. “They’ll never catch me,” you whispered theatrically. “It was worth losing a little sleep. It’s so stupid it’s hilarious.”

—————⑤—————

By the time you stepped through the gate of Hogsmeade, George’s legs were pretty cold and he concluded that in this temperature a little wind between the legs doesn’t seem so great after all. Looking down at his pink dress, he silently thanked himself for giving in to you when you told him to wear tights because he would’ve felt really stupid right about now.

He looked to his left and could see your wide grin as you bit your bottom lip in excitement, looking around all the decorations. With a little help of magic, your hair was now the exact same shade as Bubbles’, tied in two neat pigtails. Dressed in a very similar dress as his, but blue, you clutched your stuffed octopus to your chest.

You made sure to take a group photo as a souvenir for the future and then commenced your Halloween celebrations. Trick or treating with lots of tricks and playing games, you got complimented on your group-coordinated outfits every now and then. Butterbeer was flowing, candy was consumed and memories were made.

That evening George was thankful as ever for your company in the common room while his twin occupied the dorm.

With most of your energy drained, legs falling out and bellies full of unhealthy snacks, you lay on the couch in front of the fire, talking nonsense.

As both of you grew more sleepy and the pauses in your conversation grew longer, he got lost in his thoughts. Perhaps his brother was right. Perhaps he should just get laid.

Perhaps, he should get over himself.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley series #weasley twins

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wonhoonz · 3 years

Text

“ remind me why i came here with you. “ you said bitterly, your arms crossed and an unamused expression painted your face.

“ because i’m a handsome and charming young man who you would say yes to dating. “ he smiled, a little hope shining in his eyes. despite your rather aggressive outburst outside your classroom, jaemin appeared to be unbothered by your prickly self and you found yourself in your school’s courtyard.

“ i’m sorry, what ? “ you choked, assuming that you had misheard him. date na jaemin ? not in a million years.

“ fake date. “ he clarified, “ but if you want it doesn’t have to be. “ he teased with a wink only to earn no reaction from you.

“ i’m leaving. “ you announced, gathering your things from the rather small wooden table jaemin had chose to discuss ‘ something very important ‘, although it seemed to you that perhaps jaemin had drunken something this morning that’s been causing his rather absurd behavior.

“ come on, please ? it’s a win-win situation for the both of us. “ he pleaded, a put on his lips as he placed his hands together in attempt to gain your sympathy.

“ put the puppy look away, you’re not twelve. and how exactly is this a in for either of us ? this sounds like a bad remake of that one movie. “ you scoffed. you definitely didn’t have time for any cliches this year.

“ well for one, i know about your little crush on hyunjin and i’m pretty sure he does too. and to add on to that, he has a girlfriend. if you date me, it’s an easy way out. you don’t have to explain anything to him and for me. “ he said a little too smugly for comfort.

“ how does this benefit you then ? “ you asked, just to humor him a little. there was no way in hell you were doing this.

“ goeun basically went crazy when she heard you kissed me. if i can drive her crazy enough, she’ll be on her way back to me in no time. “ jaemin said enthusiastically with a little shrug.

“ that sounds healthy, “ you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“ come on, don’t be such a sour puss. “

“ i’m not doing it “

“ please ? “

“ no. “

“ please ? “

“ so what, how is it going to work anyway. i’m not exactly excited to be all hugs and kisses with you around other people. “ you joked, raising an eyebrow at him. jaemin quickly dug through his bag before pulling out a black notebook that had white doodles and a messy ‘ jaemin ‘ written on the cover.

“ then we write a contract. “ he stated like it was obvious. you let out a small laugh only to realize he was serious as he started scribbling on the paper with a blue pen. “ number one, we can never tell anyone about this. “

“ no shit, genius. “

“ i’m gonna ignore that. number two, we have to have lunch together everyday. “ he said out loud, your first instinct was to disagree. you knew who he had lunch with. jaemin and his stupid gang of friends. you knew lee jeno because he used to live in the same neighbourhood but the rest you had only heard of. they all seemed to have nothing much in common yet they were all still a close band of friends. atleast that’s what it seemed like from an outside.

“ then you have to drive my sister and i to single every single day. “ you countered only to earn a satisfied smile from jaemin. ‘ am i really agreeing to do this ? ‘

“ deal. “ he said with a big grin on his face. “ oh and, you have to got parties with me. “ he added, quickly writing more words down into his notebook. jaemin’s handwriting was . . . alright. there was a reason no one ever asked him for notes. aside from the fact that he never really payed attention in class. though, you couldn’t really say anything, you were the exact same.

“ you have to help me with my sister’s bake sales. “ you said, grabbing the notebook and pen from his hand before jotting down your addition.

“ okay, we’re getting distracted. put down, number five, we have to kiss in public atleast twice a week. “ jaemin said, leaning over the table to peak at the notebook.

“ what ? no, we are not doing that. “ you protested as you shook your head in disagreement. kissing na jaemin once was enough.

“ then how will people believe we’re dating ? goeun isn’t exactly going to be jealous if we just look like a pair of friends. “

“ well, “ you paused, racking your brain for an alternative. “ you can . . post pictures of us doing stuff. “

“ woah, maybe a little inappropriate. “ he replied, with wide eyes only to earn a smack on the head with his notebook.

“ not like that idiot ! i mean like, us out together or something. maybe throw in a cheesy caption or something. “ you said, your arms crossed yet again.

“ okay, chillax. i was just kidding. “ jaemin laughed, making you smile ever so slightly. “ is that a smile ms. go ? “ he teased, poking your cheek.

“ fuck off. so how long are we doing this ? “ you questioned, your head cocked to the side.

“ as long as we need. “ the brown eyed boy said simply before taking the notebook back before putting two black lines labeled with your names at the bottom of the page. “ sign it. “

“ seriously ? come on, it’s just a piece of paper- “

“ come on, just do it. “ he whined, waving the pen, waiting for you to take it. you looked at him in annoyance before pushing your lips together and signing his notebook. “ there. you better be there to pick me up tomorrow, 7:30 sharp. “ you said as you gathered your things to leave.

“ wait, hey ! “ he called out, making you turn back to face him.

“ are you hungry ? “

𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧

･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵

( unedited )

a/n wow two chapters in one day :oo my finals exams are next week but i’ve only got three days of class this week so if i have any spare time, i’ll try to update as much as i can since i always disappear after an update FSIUEFHIEUH but i hope you guys are enjoying elysian <33 i’ve got a lot of more social media fics and some written ideas for the future so i hope to have those up in the future !!

taglist @elysianana @httpjaeminna @yunhoesss @vinmylife @seungminity @cupofnctea @peachyhan

#nct scenarios #nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #nct angst #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin series #kpop series #nct dream social media au #kpop social media au #hwang hyunjin #lee donghyuck #hwang yeji

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rokutouxei · 4 years

Text

speaking your language

part 5 of atelier heart

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theo van gogh/mc, vincent | T | 2506 | [ao3 in bio]

spoiler warning: key plot points mentioned in chapter 10 and 15 are used in this fic, with the vaguest hint of chapter 24 at the tail end.

also: my deepest apologies to people who actually speak dutch, i’m taking all of your con/crit with an open heart.

The first Dutch word you’d ever learned was hondje.

Dog, you’d learned. Or puppy. Not the worst first word to learn in a new language, but definitely up there if one considers the fact that it was meant to refer to you. It’s not that bad, though, and puppies are pretty cute, so it was easy to let it slide.

Then, knabbeltje. A snack, a little nibble. Not that Theo has any interest in taking any bite at you. He’s made that clear from the first night. For someone who’s so good at smooth talking his clients, that was a weird word to use for you, you’d thought. But, Theo has his reasons, you supposed.

Which is exactly what makes you so keen into learning the language.

You’ve learned that a little bribery can get you a long way when it comes to Theo—as in, get him invested and you’re good to go—so that morning, you take the extra effort. You rise earlier than you’ve ever done to prepare pancakes for him, whipping the egg whites with as much vigor as you can muster to ensure that the pancakes are as fluffy as humanly possible. You make sure every portion is peak jiggly, and they are, because you can’t help but tap them contentedly on the plate as they cooled, watching them wobble. Then, like a cherry on top, you take out the special pancake syrup you’d bought the day before, having come with Sebastian to buy groceries, the one you’d chosen specifically for Theo. (And oh, only for Theo, because no other mansion resident with the right mind about sugar would dare try it.)

You try to keep it a secret as long as you can, presenting the plate of sweet goodness to Theo once he’s come down from his room. The both of you are alone at the dining table, because it’s still way too early. He’s already dressed and ready to go, even if it’s just six-thirty a.m., and if he has a comment about you being already up when you usually aren’t, he holds it back.

Good choice—you want him to focus on the pancakes, and a smile erupts on both of your faces when he begins to munch happily away on the syrup-drenched disaster of a plate. The sigh he makes goes straight under your skin.

But you can’t let your guard down, because you still have a mission, and that is: to convince him.

When his shoulders relax, you finally pop the question.

“Won’t you please teach me some Dutch?”

Theo’s fork hovers in front of his mouth. “What?”

Over the past week, you’d learned two basic Dutch phrases from Theo, in the notes he’d written for you. Tot ziens, which he said meant goodbye for now, and Dank je, thank you. That makes four total things you can now say in Dutch. Not much, but clearly already much more than what you started with. You belatedly realize you don’t actually have a reason you can dare tell him as to why you want to learn Dutch, but never mind that.

“I said, won’t you teach me some Dutch, sometime?” you repeat. “I still have three weeks to spend out here, and while my French and English are pretty fine, I can’t really keep up with your Dutch. I thought it wouldn’t be so bad to learn, especially since you’re bringing me along to work anyway.”

Cringe. That wasn’t a good reason, you were sure. But maybe the pancakes will make Theo’s steel heart a little more malleable for your favor.

What other reasons do you have? Well, maybe he’ll be able to better explain to you certain things about art and their work if he reverts to his mother tongue, right? There are certain things translations miss, after all, and maybe if you learned the language, it’ll be much easier on the both of you? Oh, wait, but does that mean you’ll be intruding on the shared, perhaps too-personal language he shares with his brother? Oh, no, that wasn’t what you meant. Maybe—

“Dutch syllables are very different from English and French,” Theo says, instead, after a long moment, a not-really yes or no.

You narrow your eyes with his response, but quickly realize maybe he’s just testing your will to do it. You are motivated. Learning languages are fun. “That’s fine, nothing practice won’t conquer. It’s really not cute that all I know how to say is stuff like dog and snack.” He snorts. “I mean, if you’re not up to it…”

Theo sighs. A sigh of defeat. “Okay, but you’ll have to work hard for it.”

You grin. That morning, you learn pannenkoek and siroop.

The learning curve for languages always differ according to the person, their own mother tongue, the language itself, and of course the work one puts into studying it, but one factor that really ups the vocabulary and grammar retention is being able to hear the language being spoken, rather regularly. This is how you end up having Vincent help you out with your little adventure in learning Dutch.

Having gotten used to conversing in French to each other, the brothers take time to adjust switching to their mother tongue for you. But when you’re looking at them with amazement exchanging words you can barely say, much less understand, there’s little they can’t do.

(Theo is mortified to have to surrender to it, but when he’s transparent to his brother, does he have any other choice?)

All of this happens just in time for the preparation for the exhibit to begin. The three of you spend much time together, selecting paintings, planning the exhibit orders, looking for themes. The two decide that this isn’t just a good opportunity to learn, it might also be in your best interests if they team-teach you the language.

Counting the paintings, Vincent teaches you the basics, hauling canvas after canvas going—een, twee, drie, vier, vijf, zes, zeven, acht, negen, tien. With the chosen paintings laid out on the floor, you point out colors and he teaches you their names—rood, oranje, geel, groen, blauw, paars, roze. He teaches you how to introduce yourself, say your name, teaches you greetings, basic nouns, the kind you will learn in introductory Dutch classes in universities if you were back in the 21st century. Vincent is gentle and kind and claps when you get the words right. (It makes you feel like a child. The word is kind.)

Theo, on the other hand, focuses on teaching you things related to the work at hand: een gallerij, een tentoonstelling, een schilderij—of course, a gallery, an exhibit, a painting. Teaches you words to describe the things you see, like mooi, for beautiful, and interessant, for interesting. He corrects your grammar, teaches you how to say, “let’s go home” or “I’m hungry, let’s eat”. When you don’t get the phrase right, he gives you a look, completely ignoring what you’d just said until you finally say it right. He corrects your pronunciation to the best of both your abilities.

He’s also found great joy in teaching you phrases before telling you what it means, and that’s how you’ve practiced saying misschien ben ik een hond die een jurk draagt as if you were a dog wearing a dress.

But you hear his laughter and it doesn’t matter as much.

Theo buys you a notebook to compile the words you’ve learned. In only a few days, you’ve amassed a wide range of words you now sprinkle throughout your sentences like a playful multilingual. You’ve gotten odd stares, sure, but it’s always better to keep using the words you’ve learned, because that’s how you make it seem natural.

So far, though, for the ones you’ve learned, it’s the Dutch verbs that are trickier than you expected. The conjugations keep tripping you up. They seem simple, and in fact a lot of them sound pretty close to their English counterparts, but Theo’s stares and (im)patient waiting for you to correct what you’ve said betray your misuse of them over and over again.

So at night, you practice. Staan for stand. Zeggen for say. Helpen for help. Leren, for learn.

Blijven, for stay.

Sorting Vincent’s paintings at the gallery Marquis Vollard had lent you, you bump shoulders with Theo and ask, “How do I say, ‘I love this’, in Dutch?” as you pull out a canvas from the stack.

“Ik hou hiervan.”

“Hmm.” You put aside the painting and pull out your notebook and pen. “So hou means love?”

“Houden, means to hold,” Theo says. “Like a hand, or a book. Hou van is what’s used for love.”

“So it’s ik hou van…?”

“Ik hou van jou,” he answers, without a thought.

A long moment, before the realization hits.

He turns away from you, and you’re thankful because of how hot your face feels.

“You use the same for other things,” Theo says. His voice is as even as always, and it makes your heart fall a little. “Like paintings, and art.”

“I see,” you say, before dropping the topic altogether.

You’re getting good at this keeping your heart tucked away thing, so you write ik hou van jou in looping letters on your notebook before returning to work.

All the while thinking: to love means to hold.

So you hold him.

After the fire.

After wheatfields.

After Gauguin.

Even when it hurts to hold.

Even when it’s him that’s let you go.

Even after you’ve heard the gunshot.

You hold on to him, even if you’re not sure if the both of you are speaking the same language anymore, if you’ll still ever be able to understand the other.

You hold on even if there’s blood everywhere.

Blijven means to stay.

And herstellen… means to recover.

The hospital is rather cozy. Quite similar to the ones in the 21st century, but still different from the sterile whiteness of it. You sit next to Theo on the bed, waiting for him to speak. You are alone for the first time since he’d said goodbye.

You hadn’t left him yet.

That night, he presses the words please forgive me into your lips, praying it’s the last time he’ll ever have to hurt you that way. You cradle his face in your palms and hold his love in your hands gently, as you exchange promises that it will no longer break.

You learn a lot of words after that, too.

Like wheatfields, tarwevelden. And forever, voor altijd. Each word learned is linked to a memory, making them hard to forget. Like katje, the day a kitten spooks Theo in the garden. Lekker, once you’ve made him a delicious batch of syrupy pancakes once again. Schat, treasure, and schatje—that is, you.

You’re still years of practice away from being fluent in Dutch, but at this point you’re fluent in Theo, and that’s really what matters.

And one night, Theo’s got you in a kiss when the both of you enter the room. You push at him just enough so that he sees the look on your face. “Teach me Dutch,” you say, half-teasing, and he laughs as he joins you in stripping off your clothes.

There’s no easier way to remember vocabulary than to learn it viscerally, carve it against your skin into a memory, and Dutch is no exception. You both fall into the bed in an entanglement of limbs, righting yourselves up just to catch each other in another kiss.

You cup both his cheeks, and he teaches you, “gezicht.” Face.

You kiss his forehead, and he says, “voorhoofd.”

You gently run your thumbs under his eyes, and he says, “ogen.”

“Kus,” he says, “is like this,” pulling you toward him in a kiss. You sigh into the word without much grace.

Pressing his lips against your throat, he teaches you, “hals.”

Grazing a fang onto your shoulder, “schouder.”

He sucks a bruise onto your collarbone and says, “sleutelbeen.”

The sensation makes your hand fly onto his hair, and with a chuckle he teaches, “haar.”

He takes your hand in his, presses a kiss onto your wrist. “pols.”

You cup Theo’s face in your hand and scour his body for more words, like a dictionary made of flesh. Your free hand grazes the scar on his back and with a sigh he teaches you “litteken.” You wonder if the same word applies to those found in his heart.

“Rug,” he teaches you, the vast expanse of his back.

Your hand goes down to his waist and he says, “taille.” You touch his hip and he says “heup.”

He gives you a mischievous look, one that suited his boyish features so much, your heart nearly stops. “Where is je favoriet?” he asks you, teasing. A phrase you’d learnt earlier. Your face flushes at the connotation but you refuse to give him the answer he wants, tapping his nose (“neus”) with a finger.

“You are mijn favoriet,” you respond, and you know when he steals your lips even more deeply than earlier is only because you’ve made him flustered. You laugh into the kiss and he growls.

Never one to be outdone, Theo pushes you backward onto the bed. The two of you share a short moment of intimacy, staring at each other’s eyes with the kind of searing fondness that always leaves you breathless, before he’s on his way down again to teach you.

“Dij,” he mouths against your thigh; lifts your leg up toward him, pressing kisses all the way down. “Knie. Kalf. Voet.” You nearly kick him when he kisses your foot but he holds you still. “Enkel.”

“But I haven’t taught you the most important one,” he says. Crawling back upward, he cups the apex of your thighs and grins. “Paradijs,” he says, and you hit him on the shoulder, covering your mouth with one hand. The laugh that rolls out of him makes your embarrassment worth it.

You pull him upward to take another kiss from him, and while you could have at it tonight, you just want to bask in his presence. You whisper “omhelzing?” hoping to get the pronunciation right or else he’ll ignore your plea to cuddle, thankful that he pulls you up to switch position.

He rests his head on your chest and says, “hoofdkussen,” with a sigh, and you’re not an expert yet, but you’re pretty sure that’s not what it should be.

You push him off with a groan (“you’re heavy!”) and the two of you switch to your usual cuddling position, Theo holding you in his arms and your head on his chest.

You don’t realize your hand has hovered over the spot on his chest right over his heart until he places his hand on yours.

Whispers into the listening night air:

“Voor altijd van jou.”

---

in the atelier: The Kiss by Gustav Klimt

also in the atelier, hidden somewhere hard to find, is Gustave Courbet's L'Origine du monde. (and because it is hidden, you’ll have to find it on your own. do be careful when you look it up though.) that painting singlehandedly inspired the paradijs bit, so it has to be mentioned.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire theo #ikevamp theo #ikevam #ikevam theo #atelier heart #fic #me and my 41 duolingo dutch crowns worked hard for this #speaking your language

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

Read Into Me Chapter 3: The Scarlet Letter

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Word Count: 4,420

Warnings: Bad grades, swearing, anxiety, bullying

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @bajino-in-the-hole @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @t0rmenta0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @asharpknife @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @the-creative-lie

Steve arrived first to Mr. Lawrence’s homeroom, his paper shoved to the back of his notebook. He was happy to have the distraction of Vicki and Tina jabbering at him. He didn’t want to think about his paper. English wasn’t his best subject, but he could hide it from his peers when it was just the teacher and him going back and forth on essays, him writing and them marking. Now, somebody was going to know that he wasn’t good at this. Nancy knew, of course, and while she didn’t say it she always seemed a bit judgemental over his lack of essay writing skill. She was good at everything; it made him feel like he was in good hands when they were together, like they both had something to offer. Apart, it made him feel stupid and secondary, like he was awful at everything. Truth be told, he didn’t exactly know what he had even offered to that relationship, looking back he couldn’t understand why he thought he was worth anything in a relationship at all.

When he sat down, the desk next to him was empty. Steve wasn’t usually early to class, so he was a bit relieved to not see you there. Maybe he could avoid the eminent roasting of his work.

You got to school late. You were absolutely drenched from head to toe. You had walked to school that day, and a sudden rainstorm hit you halfway through, soaking you before you could make it to the building. To make it worse, you’d decided to wear white for the first time in forever. You rushed to your locker in the hopes to change and luckily you’d left a stained sweatshirt there from the previous semester. You’d pushed your wet hair up and away from your face and rubbed away the bits of black eyeliner that had flaked down you cheeks. You looked like shit and you knew it. It was turning into a less than successful morning. You hadn’t even had a chance to look in your locker mirror once you’d changed. You were already late enough for class and didn’t need the write up. You rushed to your English class.

Everyone turned their attention to the doorway when you opened it. You hurried to your desk, keeping your head down and ignoring as Vicki and Tina laughed. You heard Tina say “She looks like a drowned rat.” But you chose to pretend that you didn’t. You were freezing; Hawkins High turned off the heating system mid-March and left the school to stew in whatever weather the state was dealing with to save the county a few bucks a month.

Steve slid his paper onto your desk, keeping his eye on the front of the room as Mr. Lawrence took up attendance. He’d written on the board in chalk ‘how to peer edit’ in thick block letters. You weren’t exactly enthused by the topic, but you were glad to have the dull class to doodle instead of actually listening. You flipped the paper in front of you, looking over Steve’s chicken scratch without really taking in any of the information. You slid it into your trapper keeper, passing Steve your own typed copy of the assignment. You’d made sure to keep the original at home, edited just in case Steve didn’t give you any edits. You left in some mistakes so he could get a grade, but you didn’t want to have to rely solely on him.

You flipped open your sketchpad slowly, keeping your eye on Tracy Lords curly mess of hair piled high on the top of her head like Medusa’s snakes trapped in a golden laurel, or in this case a braided headband. You pulled your graphite pencil from the pink pencil bag you’d sewn in freshman year home-ec. You started with the shape, trying to capture the exact strangeness pile, making little tight curls in the centre of the oval and spiralling in all directions. You felt a pair of eyes on your neck and you turned to see Steve staring over your shoulder. You pulled yourself and the pad inward, trying not to blush. You didn’t like people looking at your art; you hardly showed your work to anyone, even Samantha. All of your drawings sat in their pads, which piled up as the years went by, untouched and forgotten. If Samantha wasn’t allowed to see the pictures of her, Steve Harrington was certainly not allowed a peak.

“Alright, today if you and your partner are ready to begin, we’ll start editing our papers. If you aren’t ready, that’s fine but today is the only day that we’re doing in class editing so I would spend today trying to finish up so you can at least pass your papers on.” Mr. Lawrence explained. You sighed, closing your pad and pulling Steve’s essay from your trapper keeper.

“Now, we want to look for not only spelling and grammar problems, but also sentences that don’t make sense and confusing details within the essay. It’s not about how many big words you can use, it’s if you can accurately and dynamically give your reader information.” Mr. Lawrence explained. He took to the board, writing key points for his marking, specifically to edit in pen and give a letter grade for the paper.

Tina’s hand shot up “You want us to grade the paper? Isn’t that your job?” she asked, smacking her gum violently. Vicki snickered into her palm, reddish brown hair away from her face.

Mr. Lawrence shook his head “No no, I’m not taking your grade on the papers into consideration for my grade, instead I want us to give each other grades to mark the progress of an essay, to give your partner an idea of what the paper might be worth. It’ll be up to them as to whether or not they are comfortable with the grade or if they want to improve.”

You didn’t like that. Who the hell wanted their classmate grading their paper? This was a recipe for disaster. You uncapped your red pen with your teeth, chewing on the lid nervously. You looked over the page. You had made up your mind that you’d be nice. You’d want Steve to be nice to you. It was the least you could do.

But it only took a few lines to understand that this was not a good paper. Spelling and grammar mistakes galore, run on, confusing sentences, no clear subject. It wasn’t even a good story, hell it wasn’t even an essay it came off more like a point form list. As you added more and more red ink to the black, white, and blue it started as. The paper started to become a Jackson Pollack more than a lame essay for an English class, it almost felt beautiful instead of shitty to destroy his essay. It was as though you were turning into art.

Out of curiosity, you looked over at your paper to see how it was fairing. Steve was, as expected, chatting up Vicki from across the aisle, and he’d made two corrections on your page, both small mistakes you’d left in. You rolled your eyes, a pit of annoyance making itself known in the centre of your stomach, as bitter as the cyanide in a peach pit. You made your last two corrects before scrawling a large ‘D’ at the top of the page and initialling next to it.

You flipped the paper over and pulled back out your sketchpad and brought it close to your chest, pulling your knee up to your chest and adding more curls to the back of Tracy Lords’ head, then focusing in on the braided headband until the bell rang. You flipped your pad closed and slid Steve’s essay back to him, quickly putting your stuff away.

“You mind if I take this home and give it to you tomorrow?” Steve asked, waving your essay in front of your face, nearly giving you a paper cut on the bridge of your nose.

You pushed the paper away, squinting up at him. “Yeah, whatever…” you replied, turning away from. You didn’t feel bad for giving him a bad grade now. He was still a dick head. “Don’t forget your paper.” You added, quickly making your way into the halls. You didn’t usually have the confidence to be snarky with anyone you didn’t trust, but something told you that you could handle Steve Harrington. Maybe it was just how awful his essay was, you felt like you could talk your way out of a fight.

Samantha grabbed your arm as you left the room, the pair of you thankful to have the same lunch period every other day. You hurried into the cafeteria. You knew well enough that she was on the prowl, eyes scanning the room for a certain figure.

“I think the band’s practising today, dude.” You said, taking an extra tray for Samantha and getting her serving of lumpy mashed potatoes and chicken surprise slopped on the plate. Samantha was looking for Robin Buckley, a junior on her soccer team who had drawn her attention as of late, and had been trying to get closer to her as of late, inviting her to join them for lunch every time she saw her and leaving you to third wheel.

“Yeah, probably.” She replied, taking the tray you held out for her and paid for her meal. “So, how’d talking sweet, sexy assignments with King Harrington?” Samantha crooned, batting her eyelashes up at you.

You rolled your eyes “Well, for one, we don’t talk period, and for another it’s fucking awful.” Taking your places at the table closest to the emergency exit, you settled into your routine of trying to choke down the awful cafeteria food. You grabbed your trays and had them filled with whatever horrific concoction the lunch ladies had come up with that day. You carried your grey and brown mushy mess to your table, a small four seater near the edge of the room, out of view from the popular assholes who liked the throw food.

“Oh? Is that what makes it awful? Not getting to enjoy the charming conversations he has to offer?” Samantha was trying hard not to laugh. Watching you squirm was hilarious.

“More like because I have to read his writing…” you replied. You jabbed your fork into what was supposed to be pot roast, but seemed to be ninety percent instant gravy and ten percent meat from an undetermined animal.

“Since when are you such a snob?” Samantha’s mouth was full of mashed potatoes, but the words rang clear.

“Since I spent my morning reading absolute dog shit about a vacation to Miami beach. It was pathetic! I mean, and I’m no critic, but if you’re going to write me an essay on your vacation, can you at least make it interesting?” you ranted. The more you talked about how awful it was the angrier you got about it. You spent so long on art and creating, you spent your time working hard and for someone to slide through life made your blood boil.

Steve didn’t usually spend his free time searching through the cafeteria for people, people usually found him. Tommy and Carol had already motioned him over, their new friend Billy already gone somewhere else, and Vicki and Tina had called for him to join them, but Steve had to handle something first. He didn’t really know what he was looking for, he wasn’t certain he’d find it in there, but there wasn’t any shame in searching. He would ask someone for directions, but it seemed that nobody knew or cared where you were at any time.

You gave him a ‘D’. A god damned ‘D’! He was flummoxed, he thought his essay was shit, he wouldn’t pretend that he didn’t, but he had expected you to be a bit kinder. That was like the unexpected rule of everyone in the class, to grade on the curve. But you went in hard. All he wanted was some answers.

He saw first a flash of pencil stained hands in the air, then the shine of your hair under the florescent lights. You were talking with your hands, making Samantha Cameron laugh hard. He’d never seen you that animated, it made him smile for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

He chuckled, coming up behind you in the hopes that your ease would stick around if he didn’t announce his presence. “You really gave me a D on my paper? What did I do to deserve that?” he asked.

Apparently, you really couldn’t smile when he was around. Both you and Samantha’s smiles dropped, your punky friend dropping her gaze as you were forced to turn around. “Oh…um…well I mean it…maybe I need to look it over again, I was probably being too harsh…” you stuttered, unable to keep yourself from burning up. You prayed that he hadn’t heard what you were saying. That would’ve been awful.

“Hey, it’s cool, the paper’s no good, it’s no big deal.” That was a lie of sorts, when Steve saw the big red ‘D’, his heart dropped. And he really didn’t believe that you were as innocent as you seemed. You seemed guilty over something.

“Well…I’m sorry anyway. I didn’t mean to bother you…” you apologized. You hoped he’d go away; you’d never been more uncomfortable around a person than Steve Harrington. You didn’t know why, but something about him made gave you more butterflies than other people did, he scared you for reasons you couldn’t quite understand.

“You didn’t bother me, don’t worry.” Steve chuckled awkwardly. You wouldn’t look him in the eye, it was throwing him off. “So, listen, I don’t want to fail this class,” he huffed out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck “Could you maybe help me rewrite this thing?”

You looked to Samantha, unsure if you could even speak words anymore, but she was smirking into her pot roast. Absolutely no help at all. You tried to smile “Um…sure, I can’t promise I’ll be much help though…” your voice was hoarse and unsure of itself. You hated that you’d said yes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse. What if he got mad? Or yelled at you? You couldn’t handle being ridiculed or yelled at, you’d die.

Steve chuckled “Any help I can get is good enough. I can meet you in the library after school, okay?” he said, turning his gaze to Tommy’s hollering from across the cafeteria. He waved him over with both hands, like a sailor on a sinking ship, trying to beckon Steve back to where he belonged. Steve nodded, holding up his index finger, he only needed one minute.

“Sure, yeah that’ll work.” You said, fiddling with a thread hanging from the edge of your grey sweatshirt. You’d painted a little pink flower on the inside of the sleeve. When Steve saw it, he couldn’t help but smile at it; it looked so sweet and earnest.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” He left after that, heading over to Tommy, who was frustrated beyond belief. He took his seat easily, stealing the pudding cup off of Carol’s tray wordlessly.

“What did that freak want?” Tommy asked loudly, his eyes blown wide. Carol was painting her nails, not even bothering to look up from her work. Tommy made no attempts to hide his dislike of you. He’d expected his best friend since the second grade to feel the same.

“She’s nice, we’re doing an assignment together.” Steve replied with a shrug, pulling the plastic covering off the cup, sticking the plastic spoon into the vanilla pudding.

Across the room, Samantha grabbed onto your hands with a giddy grin. “Look at my little girl! She’s got plans, with a boy!” she squealed, swinging your arms back and forth over the table.

“Jesus, can you please stop acting so straight? You’re gonna scare Robin off.” You yanked your hands away, watching with a grin as she turned her attention back to looking around the room excitedly. You let your eyes find Steve in the cafeteria, the buzz of fear filling your ears. You couldn’t believe that you agreed to meet him anywhere. You wanted to disappear.

You couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of the day. Your mind had gone into a feral sort of panic mode, pumping fear through your veins and turning your palms cold. When the final bell rang, it took all your strength and courage to not run all the way home. You knew that if you didn’t show, the problem wouldn’t go away. You’d just have to deal with the results of ditching the next day, and if not done now, then you’d have to deal with it another day. You clutched your books tight to your chest, sitting on the bench outside the library, trying to keep the butterflies from bursting out of your mouth. Your hands kept coming to your hair, trying to fix it or keep it away from your ears, maybe just to comfort yourself. It had dried weird and you worried that it looked ridiculous.

You saw his shoes come up to yours before you saw his face, royal blue Adidas with white and red details and dirty laces. You noted your own dirty white Converse, marked with mud and lyrics to songs that Samantha wrote on the toes. “Hey, you ready to do this?” Steve asked. You looked up and nodded, swallowing hard.

You wouldn’t make eye contact with him again. It was really starting to freak him out. He didn’t know what he did wrong, but it seemed like you really didn’t like him. Still, you’d agreed to help him and he wouldn’t take that for granted. He’d read your essay twice and it was good. He didn’t know much about good writing, but he knew that Mr. Lawrence would like it, that it would get a good grade. And he wanted decent grades too, so he could get into college and get his dad off his back.

The Hawkins High library was fairly quiet after school, most students headed back home or to after school clubs. Only a few stragglers remained, mostly using electric typewriters and returning books to poor Mrs. Mueller, who always kept the library open till four, waiting for her husband, the head of custodial staff, to finish his work. She smiled at you when you walked in. Mrs. Mueller was a nice woman who let you sit in the library during lunch and always checked in on you when you seemed alone. She was your favourite teacher, despite never having a class taught by her.

Steve chose a table in the dead centre of the room, dropping his blue bag on the wooden chair next to him and pulling out his papers. You carefully followed suite, folding your hands in your lap, unsure what to do with them. Steve smiled at you, sliding the essay towards you “So, what am I doing wrong?” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes, unsure where to begin. You picked up the paper, and then open your notebook, writing down everything the story seemed to be about. Steve watched you, utterly confused. Once you had every down, you set down your pen. “Okay,” you didn’t look up from your paper, sliding the essay to the middle of the table. “Tell me what your paper is about.”

“What? You read it, you should know.” Steve laughed awkwardly.

“Humour me.” You replied, looking up slowly to meet his eye. Steve’s smiled dropped, looking at you for a second. You broke eye contact first, but he wished he had been able to hold it for a moment longer.

“Okay, well,” he took a deep breath “I wrote about my family’s trip to our cottage on Miami Beach, and I talked about what I did. Nothing much.”

“Okay, because what you actually wrote isn’t really about that. What you told me is that you went to Miami Beach, your parents own a dirty beach house that was your grandparent’s house and that they’re both dead, that your grandfather fought in World War Two and that the medals were framed in the house, that you met a girl on the beach but she didn’t like you, and that the flight was long.” You explained. You still couldn’t believe that he’d fit all of that into a page of work.

“So?” Steve asked. That was all true of his last trip. Mind you, that was way back in middle school and the details were hazy.

“So, that’s a lot of information that I don’t care about. You can cut all of the stuff about your grandparents, which takes up like half of it. And when you cut that, all I know is that the beach house is in Miami Beach and you met a girl and the flight was long. That’s not bad, but I’d like to know a bit more about it.” You said, taking back the essay from the middle of the page and crossed out every line about his grandparents.

“What do I say instead then?” Steve asked, watching as you crossed out half his page, trying not to sound defeated. You were basically saying that he had to start all over again.

“Well, tell me about the beach? Pretend like I’ve never been. What’s there to do, what’d you like about it?” you shrugged. You found yourself feeling a tad bit calmer; the butterflies had calmed their intense flapping and had let you breathe.

Steve sighed “I don’t know, I’m just bullshitting.”

“What’d you mean?” you asked.

“I mean, I didn’t go on there, I haven’t been to our beach house since I was a kid.” Steve looked away. He was embarrassed to have been caught in a lie, even more knowing that now he’d have to rewrite his whole paper.

“Oh…what’d you actually do on your break?” you hadn’t expected him to be lying about anything, a snow bird spring break trip sounded about right for his family, they were always bragging about their money.

Steve chuckled “Oh no, nothing worth writing an essay on.” You looked up at him again. He seemed a bit sad. You pulled another sheet of paper from your trapper keeper, setting it overtop the last one.

“Tell me about it.” You smiled at him despite yourself. He was bit easier to talk to than you’d imagined.

Steve swallowed, nodding despite himself. “Well, I mean my parents went to the beach house and I tried to throw a party, you probably heard about how that went.” He rubbed at the back of his neck.

“No…” you shook your head. Steve wasn’t expecting that. Everyone had heard about the failed party, he’d gotten shit about it for weeks.

“Well, I couldn’t get any supplies, so I cancelled and hung out with Tommy and Carol instead. We got drunk in my backyard and Carol fell in the pool. She was so pissed. Then, I pretty much just hung about town, helped my buddy Dustin beat Dragon’s Lair at the arcade.” Steve didn’t really like admitting how lame his life was, he purposefully left out how Tommy and Carol only hung out with him when he went to pick up some weed from his older brother and they wanted a hit off it. Admitting that his life wasn’t that great made him feel small and like it was out of his control, which was not exactly a good feeling.

“Okay, tell me about the little party you had with Tommy and Carol. What was the night like? Was it fun? Did you jump in the pool too or did you watch her fall and laugh?” You had written down the few details in a bubble tree and added more details as he explained his time more thoroughly. You managed to get a bit more information on both events, learning more about his friend Dustin and the game they played.

When he was finished, you slid the page over to him. He took it, eyebrow raised in confusion, but you spoke before he could ask any questions. “This is your blue print. I wrote down everything you told me; now just turn it into an essay. The whole trick about these assignments is that you’re telling a story, and to make it interesting you have to give us details, and not about your grandparents or other things that don’t add to the story at hand, about what actually was happening.” You explained, checking the plastic watch on your wrist. It was almost four and Mrs. Mueller had already passed your table twice, her silent warning to leave. Everyone else who had been there had long left and you became very aware of how alone you were with him. The butterflies started their flapping again, churning tides in your stomach.

Steve smiled “Okay, I promise it’ll be interesting though.” He chuckled.

You shrugged “I promise that it’s more interesting than what you had before.” You shoved your papers into your bag, standing quickly “If you want me to look at it again before you hand it in, just bring it to me in class, alright? The library’s closing so I should go.”

“You want a ride home?” you spun around to look at him, crossing your arms over your paint splattered sweatshirt. The rain storm of the morning was long forgotten and you didn’t know what the weather looked like now. A part of you wanted to take the ride, but a much bigger part of you told you to run away.

You shook your head “No, um my friend Samantha said she’d drive me after her soccer practise, she’s probably waiting for me.” You lied straight through your teeth, adjusting your backpack straps on your shoulders.

“Oh…sure, yeah, I’ll see you around.” Steve stood slowly, tucking in his chair. You waved politely and headed out. The rain had stopped, thank god, and you rushed to your locker, grabbing your wet clothes from your locker before making your way outside. The field was muddy, practise was probably cancelled. You took the long way home that afternoon, cutting through the woods and the muddy park to avoid being spotted by Harrington on the way and getting caught in a lie.

The afternoon had gone well. And that scared the shit out of you.

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still-g00denough · 4 years

Text

The Assignment Ch. 7

Pairing: Kainora

Rating: K+ (for now)

Words: 12,767

Chapters: 7

read on ff.net

“The library wasn’t exactly what you think of when someone asks you to go on a romantic date,” Kai whispered because they were currently in the city library.

“You said I could choose where,” Jinora quipped.

Kai sighed, “well I thought you chose a place with a better ‘date’ vibe.”

Jinora drew a breath then shakily held his hand, “I wanted to share this with you. The library is where I go to settle down; it’s my happy place.”

Kai rubbed soothing circles into Jinora’s hand, “In that case, I’m so glad you brought me here.” Kai, despite the location, was having a good time. But there was another thing that was bothering him. He looked at Jinora with a frown, “Just one question though,” Jinora nodded her head, telling him to ask away. “Why is your brother following us?”

Now Kai had no problem with Jinora’s brother, Meelo, but he was distracting (and slightly creeping) Kai out. Jinora sighed as she whipped her head around, seeing Meelo duck behind a bookshelf unsuccessfully. Kai saw something in Jinora’s eyes for a split second, it was rage but more like a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. “What,” she yelped, “are you doing here Meelo?” Jinora marched to the book shelf that was right behind them. He could try to run but Jinora already had her eyes pinned on him. “Meelo, don’t even try to run. Come here,” she demanded.

Meelo peaked out from behind the other row of shelves, he was quick on his feet Jinora had to give him that. “I’m on a top secret mission,” Meelo whispered in that fake-deep voice he tries to use to hide his voice cracks, “direct orders from the general.”

“You mean Dad?” Jinora said, now just simply annoyed. She looked back at Kai. He had decided to focus on his notes, giving Jinora and her little brother some privacy. She blushed, he was really sweet. Meelo. “Ugh, can you just leave us alone please?”

Meelo stood up straight now, he may have only been 11, but he sure was growing fast. Jinora was still taller, but he was catching fast, nearly up to her shoulder. “Sorry, direct orders. No can do,” he repeated.

Jinora knew exactly what was going on. She just exhaled loud enough to show Meelo she was done with his games and quickly sent a text to her mom: Dad sent Meelo to spy on me and Kai

Within a minute Jinora heard the unmistakable sound of Meelo’s ringtone, the pokemon theme song. He was on the phone for only a few moments, “Okay mom, can I at least go hang out with Jonah?” Meelo then hung up the phone and walked right up to his sister and the boy, “Mission has been called off. Mom said you have to pick me up from Jonah’s later tonight though. Whenever you’re done with this,” he gestured at Kai.

Jinora sighed, again, “Fine Meelo, now leave please.” With that her little brother finally walked away and she watched him walk out of the building. “Sorry about that,” she said to Kai.

Kai, who more or less zoned out for the last 5 minutes finally looked up again, “It’s fine!” he explained, “I’ve seen him following us since we left your house so I thought I would tell you.” He laughed, once again running a hand through his hair.

Jinora also laughed as she packed her things into her bag and grabbed her keys, “Now let's go on our real date!” She grabbed his hand and started dragging him out of the Library.

“What? I thought this was our real date?” Kai said, his voice dropped like he was concerned and Jinora realized he was a bit hurt.

“Kai, it's okay. I planned this,” she gave him her sweetest smile. “I know my dad would send one of the minions after us, I just wasn’t sure when or which one,” she stated. “Now that the spy is gone we can go have some real fun!”

Kai took a second to process but eventually gave her a huff of recognition, “Wow, way to think ahead Jin.” Kai was still being dragged by one hand, his other trying to stuff the notebook in his bag. “But really, I thought you liked this place? We can stay if you want,” he expressed.

Jinora turned around and stopped them both, “I do love it here, and we can come here plenty. But this is our first real date, no way are we spending it at the Library. And this is me talking!” Jinora laughed. She grabbed his hand again and they walked towards Jinora’s car.

…

“Where are we going Jinora?” Kai asked her again. Jinora just turned the music up, the already loud bass drowning him out even more.

“Don’t worry,” Jinora yelled over the music, “you’re gonna love it!”

Kai huffed again but quickly found a groove with the music. His head swayed to the beat as Jinora took them down the freeway and off an exit Kai was unfamiliar with.

She turned down the streets without directions and pulled into a parking lot with a big building in it. Kai’s face lit up with joy, “No way!”

“Yes way,” Jinora confirmed, “Now let's go fly.” Jinora grabbed his hand and quickly led them into the trampoline park.

Kai had always wanted to go to a place like this, but he never had a chance growing up. He could hardly contain his excitement… that is until they got to the front desk and he looked at the prices. “Uh, Jinora. This is great and all but I can’t afford this,” Kai said with a defeated voice. Kai was used to not having money for things, but it didn’t make it any less easier.

Jinora could tell this was a sore spot but quickly reassured him, “Don’t worry about that. The city runs this place, I can get us in for free.” She flashed a big grin and pulled out her Republic City ID with a fancy ‘all access’ sticker on it. “Just one of the perks of my Dad,” she smiled.

Kai’s jaw dropped, “Free? Like free free? Really?”

“Yes Kai, free free,” she reassured him. “Now let go to the foam pit! I’ve been trying to get this double back flip down and I could use your help.”

Jinora could see the excitement on Kai’s face, very childlike she thought. He practically ran straight into the pit his first time he was so excited. There was pure happiness on his face as Kai launched himself into the sea of red and yellow foam. “Ahhhh!” Kai started grunting, “how do you get out of this stuff?” He started squirming around like a worm, unable to make any ground back to the platform.

Jinora only laughed at his struggle, “calm down Kai. Just try to get your body as close to the surface as you can and just army crawl out,” she explained to him from across the pit. Kai finally got himself to the platform and pulled his body out of the foam. Jinora giggled at him, he was already covered in sweat, his black shirt hugging his frame. His hair was all messed up and Kai was about to run his hand through his hair again when Jinora beat him to it, “You’re like a little kid in here, huh?”

“Oh,” Kai grinned, “absolutely.” He wrapped his arms around Jinora and threw her into the pit before she could stop him.

“Kai!” she yelled out, “what the-” And then she saw his body flying over her and crashing down just a few feet away. His head suddenly appeared in front of hers, “this is much better than the library,” Kai said and kissed her cheek as he started fighting his way back to the platform.

“Yeah,” Jinora said, her hand instinctively going to her cheek where his lips had left a cold spot, “Much better than the Library.”

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