ive decided to leave this blog here bc im too lazy to bring my other fics and one shots over to the jojolymes account!! ill probs bring interstellar and emollient over but not rn bc palomino is my current focus heehee
THE MISSION was supposed to be simple— a quick infiltration to gather some intel and search for the Holts, maybe free a few prisoners if they had the chance. Albeit simple, the mission was still risky and Allura had decided (with much forethought) that pairing Keith and Lance together would be their course of action. A terrible choice that could have been avoided with little to no hindsight had Allura not been insistent that the paladins had to get along. That insistence, of course, was what had gotten them into that mess.
"We have to take a left! No... a right! Wait, yeah, left!" Lance vacillated through grit teeth as he and Keith looked through the corridors that surrounded them. "Well which is it?!" spat Keith while trying to pull up the map, to no avail, "we aren't getting anywhere closer to the main deck! Dammit! I knew I shouldn't have trusted you with the map!" Lance scoffed as he slapped his arm, making the map that hovered over it visible for a few seconds before fizzing out into nothingness.
"You can't even get the map out!" Lance pointed out, smacking his arm again to get a mere blip of the screen which disappeared yet again afterward, "Quiznak!" Keith let out a short, dry laugh while pressing himself against the wall of one of the corridors. "How was I supposed to know that the signal would get jammed?" Keith sighed as static and Shiro's broken speech crackled through his helmet. "At this rate, we'll get caught." Keith missed the look of fear that crossed Lance's face as Keith fiddled with the screen on his arm.
"Yeah? Well, it'll be your fault, Mullet," scowled Lance, bristling under his armor as his hands clenched into fists, shaking. Keith grit his teeth, spinning around to face Lance with newfound vexation. "Oh, my fault? That's funny coming from you," Keith hissed as Pidge's voice sputtered around his helmet in short, quick-tempered bursts. With another sigh, Keith fidgeted with the screen on his arm, ignoring Lance's piercing gaze at the side of his head. "Fuck you." Keith didn't even bother looking up, paying little heed to Lance's footsteps which grew softer with each passing second.
If Shiro had been with them, Keith was sure Lance wouldn't have been as annoying as he had been. Maybe even tolerable. But Shiro was with Pidge and Hunk, all three of which were on the side of a nearby rock formation with the camouflaged Green Lion. And had he not been with Lance, Keith knew he would have been able to navigate through the Galra base without walking into an area where all their communications were jammed. Keith grumbled curses under his breath as he tried to get the map to clear up on the screen above his arm until he heard a set of frantic footsteps.
"Keith! Keith- there's a shit ton of noise coming from over there," Lance said, stumbling against the wall with blown eyes. Keith shot Lance a look of derision— was Lance not aware of the type of mission they were on? "Great, so we know not to go that way," Keith huffed as Lance raised his hands to his head in disbelief, and had he not worn his helmet, Lance would have pinched the skin between his brows. "No, no, it's cheering, Keith," Lance clarified, expecting Keith to come to the same conclusion. "Uh, okay? Nice," Keith replied with a deadpan, "anyways, let's head away from the noise, yeah?"
Lance groaned loudly and grabbed Keith by the back of his armor, dragging him in the direction of the cheers. It wasn't until Keith had heard them that he realized the implications. "A...fighting arena..?" Keith managed to say as Lance shook his head frantically. "Keith, look, I know you're all," Lance paused to gesture at Keith, "you. But we should keep this to ourselves. If Pidge found out her family was here... who knows what she'd do." As reluctant as Keith was to agree with Lance, Lance was right. Plus, Shiro wouldn't take it well in the slightest.
"Fine," Keith replied after breaking away from Lance's grip, slapping the gauntlet on his arm to try and pull up the map for the hundredth time. "Let's go back to-" Keith stopped short at the sound of heavy footsteps heading from two of the three corridors they were at the crossroads of. "Shit." Lance shot Keith a glance before looking at the empty corridor beside them. "This way," Lance whispered, just loud enough for Keith to hear, and rushed down the corridor with echoing footsteps that blended in with the others. Just as they reached the end, however, the looming shadows of Galran druids appeared.
Lance took a sharp breath, looking back and forth until he spotted a door a few feet away. "Go, go," he screeched as softly as he could, tugging on Keith's arm frantically. Keith quickly slapped his hand on the scanner and he and Lance slipped in before shutting the door immediately. "Lock it," Lance cried as Keith twisted his palm, sighing in relief when a lock symbol appeared over the scanner. "That was way too close," grumbled Keith as he tested his comms, receiving nothing but static, "but, of course, you thought going towards the noise was a smart idea." Lance grimaced and spun around to shove a finger against Keith's chest plate.
"I told you the map said to go that way before it went, poof!" Lance spat, shoving his finger harder against Keith's armor, and pushing him back against the wall. "The soldiers and the druids being there wasn't my fault." Keith scoffed, swatting away Lance's hand with a furrowed brow. "What? Are you saying it's my fault now?" Lance cradled his chin between his thumb and his forefinger, tilting it with a sarcastic hum before nodding. "Yeah. You were the one who was rushing me earlier! If we weren't practically running to our deaths, I could have been able to memorize the route!"
"Fuck off, Lance," Keith seethed with grit teeth, shoving Lance back, making the blue paladin stumble back harshly. "Come mierda, cabrón!" Keith had no time to react when Lance shoved him back against the wall, his hand slamming against a small control panel. A sharp, almost ear-piercing, beep stopped them in their tracks, Lance paling as the wall adjacent to them slowly started to rise. Without a second to waste, Keith and Lance pulled out their bayards, transforming them and holding them tight as they awaited what would come next with anxious stares.
"What the..." "...Quiznak."
The cheers they had at some point blocked out had now hit them at full force as they scanned the arena the room had overlooked. It was filled to the brim with Galra, their fucked-up excitement piercing the air. In the middle of the arena were two aliens, one drastically larger than the other. It was heartbreakingly obvious who was going to win. The smaller of the two aliens swung their weapon feverishly, heaving as they tried to hit the larger alien. It wasn't even moments later that the alien was nothing more than a corpse. Lance felt sick to his stomach.
"Keith?! Lance?! Come in!"
Lance was dead silent as Keith gritted his teeth, fists tightening until he could feel a sharp stinging in his palms. "This is Keith...we..." Keith faltered in remembering Lance's previous warnings about telling Pidge the truth. It was all futile when the crowd erupted into cheers so deafening, that the comms had heard them loud and clear. "Is there a... a fighting ring?" Pidge's weary voice made Keith shudder and it was Lance's turn to respond. "There's no way Mr. Holt and Matt are here," Lance began while crossing his arms, "they're too smart to be put in a fighting ring of all places." Pidge let out a soft 'yeah' that made Lance and Keith frown.
The cheers of the arena were still echoing through the comms and Keith fidgeted while waiting for Shiro to break the radio silence. "I... I didn't think this place was a...a fighting ring," Shiro finally managed to say, pain audibly visible in his voice. Lance could faintly hear Hunk comforting Pidge who was tapping away at her screen and when he glanced over at the glass, another alien had been pushed out into the arena— he turned back around before he could see much more. Allura was next to speak, clearing her throat awkwardly. "Paladins...maybe we should call off this mission."
"No! We can't! The information we got said a human was being held here!" cried Pidge through a voice crack, "what if it's Matt...or- or Dad? I can't leave them here. Even if it's not them, we're the defenders of the universe aren't we?" Allura sighed as the comms went silent again, "you're right, Pidge. Paladins, continue the mission. Keith, Lance, if you find Pidge's family, bring them to the castleship immediately." Lance half-smiled yet before he could say a witty comment or flirt with Allura, the echoing voice of a Galran announcer interrupted him. The language was translated through their helmets, making both Keith and Lance grimace.
"What a fight! Seems like our reigning champion lives another day," the announcer said as laughter bled through the glass of the windows, "but now, it's time for your favorite part of the evening!" If the cheers hadn't been deafening before, they certainly were now. Keith and Lance approached the glass as the cheering died down, and the announcer chuckled. "A glorious intermission led by the only one of her kind—" Pidge let out a 'huh?', "— the charming enchantress you all know and love..." There were wolf whistles and screams of delight as some fog rolled out into the arena, blocking their sight.
"Que mierda-What the hell is happening?!"
"The marchioness..."
"How the fuck would I know?!"
"...of the Galran Empire..."
"Both of you shut up!"
"...Lady Andromeda!"
The arena went dark, a single purple spotlight falling in the middle of it. There, in the dreadful beam of light, you laid. "Guys, you might want to see this," muttered Lance, pressing a button on the side of his helmet to show the others what he was seeing. He and Keith watched as around twelve other aliens surrounded you, trembling as you raised your head from your crossed arms. The silence that had just loomed over the arena ceased when an eerie rendition of Clair De Lune resounded through it, sending chills down Lance's spine. You were on your feet now, arms raised above your head before you lowered them down gracefully to the beat of the music.
Lance's gut wrenched when you raised your leg— the metal one that consisted of just a small coil that mirrored the shape of ballet shoe ribbons and the metal 'foot' built to resemble a ballet slipper. You were a ballerina and you were dancing in the middle of a fighting arena. Lance could already see his younger cousins performing their recitals in the living room with cheap tutus, pink stockings, and no ballet slippers in sight. He could feel the smile tugging at his cheeks when his cousins would try to imitate the ballerina on the tv behind them while looking back far too often. He could hear their laughter and their stupid little jokes as they tried to be as elegant as the prima ballerina.
Yet, there you were, the pinnacle of perfection.
Lance nor Keith could take their eyes off of you, even with the frantic conversation of their teammates in their helmets discussing their next moves to save you. You didn't seem fazed by the aliens rigidly dancing around you as you twirled softly onto your toes Keith couldn't help but wonder, for a moment, what it was like to dance with a prosthetic while Lance stared at the black fabric of your tutu which glittered like the stars that shone over Varadero. While Lance started thinking of his cousins again, Keith could feel anger bubbling in the bottom of his stomach as you danced without a care in the world— you reminded him too much of Shiro.
Shiro, who pretended that he wasn't affected by the constant fights or the need to survive as 'The Champion' in the middle of space. Shiro, who came back to Earth screaming and thrashing about the Galra only to get sedated and quarantined. Shiro, whose disappearance was covered up as a failure on his and his team's behalf. Shiro...who was completely silent. "Shiro?" asked Keith, the realization of Shiro's silence settling in, "what's wrong?" Shirt let out a choked noise and Keith's breath caught in his throat, "Shiro?!" Lance turned to Keith with a furrowed brow which Keith mirrored as Shiro took deep breaths over the comms.
"I... I know her. Lady Andromeda, I- she and Zarkon watched me fight once but I didn't know she was... human."
Keith turned from the glass, walking to the corner of the room to open a private comm between him and Shiro. Before he could, however, Lance shouted. It wasn't one of contempt like it usually was between him and Keith, but a guttural one that made Keith rush back over towards the glass. "Lance, what-" Lance had clamped a hand over his mouth so tightly that Keith was concerned that Lance might inadvertently suffocate himself. But when Lance pointed shakily at the arena, Keith (sadly) immediately understood why. At your feet was an alien, its head nowhere to be found.
"What the fuck."
Lance curled in on himself, breathing heavily as Keith's eyes stayed glued to the arena, watching as you moved toward the alien behind you, its arms shakily lifting you into the air. Not even moments later, its head was gone, tumbling down into the fog. It wasn't like Keith wasn't used to such violence (war was war after all), but you looked so unfazed that it made him sick. Any pity he held for you was gone as he grit his teeth, fists clenching as he stood and watched you send more innocent aliens to their deaths. Keith tore his eyes away from the glass before his anger got the best of him, pulling Lance along with him.
"We aren't going to save her," grumbled Keith as cries of confusion rang through the comms but he stayed firm in his judgment. "She's a lost cause. She could try and save those innocent aliens but she isn't! She's probably been brainwashed by Zarkon," Keith insisted as Lance stood, flabbergasted. "B-But Keith...she's still," Lance hesitated— it wasn't like Keith was wrong but there was something about the way you were dancing. Lance's gaze floated over to the arena where you leaned into an alien's arms, mouth moving just clearly enough to make out one word: sorry. You weren't doing this willingly, you couldn't have been.
And Lance wasn't going to leave you behind.
Lance grabbed Keith's arm just as he was unlocking the door of the room they had locked themselves into, a knot in his brow. "What Lance," asked Keith exasperatedly while Lance gnawed on the inside of his lip. With a deep breath, Lance pulled Keith over to the glass, forcing him to watch as you stood amidst a ring of aliens, not a spot of blood on your dress. But your ballet slippers were soaked in blood, a sickening hue of black. You slowly sunk in on yourself, wrapping your arms around your midsection as you gracefully sat in a circle of corpses. While the Galrans cheered and whistled, you looked up in the direction of the balcony they stood in, a strained smile on your face.
❝I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN
TO DESCRIBE THE
HORRORS THAT TOOK
PLACE ON THAT PLANET.❞
┊ ✧. your legs were once
strong, carrying you across
the stage as patrons called
for an encore.
roses used to be the only
red things that were scattered
across the stage—
now your leg creaks and begs
to be repaired while the blood
of the innocent stains your
ballet shoes.
PLAYLIST .ೃ࿐
stardust; nat king cole
❝high up in the sky, the little stars climb,
always reminding me that we're apart.❞
soft sounds from another planet; japanese breakfast
❝striving for goodness while the cruel men win,
there's no part of me left that can feel or hear it.❞
be an astronaut; declan mckenna
❝but you were born to be an astronaut and you'll do that or die trying:
there'd be nothing wrong with it, oh.❞
cosmic love; florence + the machine
❝the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out—you left me in the dark—
no dawn, no day, i'm always in this twilight, in the shadow of your heart.❞
subterranean homesick alien; radiohead
❝late at night while i'm driving, take me on board of their beautiful ship,
show me the world as I'd love to see it ❞
concerning the ufo sighting near highland, illinois; sufjan stevens
❝we couldn't imagine what it was:
in the spirit of three stars, the alien thing that took its form...❞
strange news from another star; blur
❝all i want to be is washed out by the sea, no death star over me won't give me any peace,
all I want is light relief.❞
andromeda; weyes blood
❝andromeda's a big, wide open galaxy:
nothing in it for me except a heart that's lazy.❞
FOREWORD .ೃ࿐
˚ · . warnings¡!
SOME LANGUAGE USE
SEASON 1-3 >> SEASON 6-8
CANON-TYPICAL VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF PAST SEXUAL HARRASSMENT/ASSAULT
˚ · . notes¡!
SHIRO, KEITH, LANCE,
HUNK, PIDGE, ALLURA,
MATT X FEM!READER
┊ ✧. mc is a prima ballerina
for plot; if you can't dance or
you don't do ballet, just pretend
you can for this fic lol
┊ ✧. mc is 20, shiro, matt and
keith are their canon ages, lance
and hunk are 19, pidge is 18;
let's pretend allura is 19 in human
years or sumn
┊ ✧. voltron in 2022?!1?!1
yes.
┊ ✧. this fic starts around the
events of season two; probs not
gonna be canon compliant but
i might reference certain events
from the series!!
cw: mild child abuse (at least i would consider it so), alcoholism, implied pedophilia, implied/mentions of an e.d.
god, i love this movie (and paul dano)
p.s. a riddler x reader x batman may be in the works so stay tuned lolol
YOU HAD never enjoyed beauty pageants. Sure, that probably complicated things by a lot for your mother, but you didn't care. You hated beauty pageants and your mother— two birds in one stone you supposed. But it wasn't the frilly dresses, the caked-on makeup, or the big hairdos that you hated. You hated how you were expected to be perfect as you stood on the stage, how you were expected to be stick-thin, how you had to show the judges a pristine smile, how you were ogled by grown men in the crowd: it was all dreadful and superficial.
Especially the week before when you would end up somewhere in the country while your friends hung out at school without you. It wasn't like you liked school but it certainly beat practicing some stupid routine every hour of the day and having your mother nitpick anything you did— it was frustrating. All you wanted to do was go to school and come home to nothing. Nothing, so you could sneak out with friends, go to stupid house parties, and even go on dates. You didn’t want to hold back tears as your mother altered your appearance beyond recognition, spend hours heaving over a toilet in shame, or flirt back with men whose kids you were competing with.
Yet here you were, getting poked and prodded by your mother and your aunt at the Little Miss Sunshine pageant. Your eyes wandered to the clock constantly: the last you’d checked it was three o’clock but the worker who walked in yelled about how it was almost time for touch-ups. “Damn it! We didn't even put the gems on her eyes,” cursed your mother before pulling your chin into her vice-like grip. “Close your eyes! Now!” Her fingers were anything but gentle as she pressed stick-on gems right above your eyelid, cursing as your aunt added more contour to your cakey face.
When you finally opened your eyes, you stared back at an unfamiliar face frowning back at you. “Smile.” Your mother reminded (though it sounded more like a warning), stepping back to admire her work. She didn't take her advice, however, and ended up stepping away, rambling on about how she needed a drink. Your aunt wasn’t too far behind her, looking back at you briefly with a tight-lipped smile. The second you were out of their sight, you turned around, watching the contestants that rushed into their costumes. By costumes, you meant bikinis, of course. Sadly, you were clad in the same thing.
That was okay though. It was fine. You just had to get walk down the runway like you wanted to be there a few times, show off that stupid dance routine your mother had ingrained into your mind, and you were back to your home in Albuquerque— the home that you would stay at for a few weeks before inevitably being sent off to do another pageant in some part of the country. A part of the country so random that you would be unable to explain to your friends why you were going there. Like hell would you ever tell them about this hobby your mother had.
With the call of a worker, you were off to the stage. When they called your name, you smiled that perfect little smile, blew a kiss and a wink at the crowd, spun on your heel, and returned to your spot among the lineup of other freshman girls beside you. The host beamed at you every step of the way, running his beady eyes over your body with such a hungry look that you felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to leave. You couldn't be here any longer. But when you stepped off the stage to your mother's badgering you knew it was useless.
When you changed into your skin-tight dress, you wanted to hurl.
The host couldn't seem to stop looking at you when you got back on stage, all while ironically singing the national anthem. The pit in your stomach only deepened but you just kept that smile on your face, hoping that someone would just take you out of your misery already. Maybe if you fainted, your mother would get mad at the staff for bad air conditioning or something. You could even trip up and get disqualified— though your mother would probably berate you for hours on end if you did. Your mind was running rampant, looking for possible solutions for your crisis.
So that was why you found yourself reluctantly trudging back to the changing rooms, thinking that if you were lucky enough, your mother would get alcohol poisoning so that you could pretend you were concerned for her and drop out. You walked through the maze of white-walled corridors in silence among the loud whines and cries of girls younger than you. At some point you had been in their shoes, begging your father to keep your mother from bringing you to any more pageants. He never did.
"Are you authorized to be backstage?"
"No."
Your eyes were glued to the strappy high-heels you wore, silver and shiny from the overhead lights. These heels made you much taller and significantly more wobbly than the ones you usually wore and despite your fierce complaints, your mother had insisted that you wear them. The soles of your feet ached and your ankled threatened to give out with every step you took while you tried to walk it out as per your mother's instruction.
"Hey, where are the dressing rooms?"
"Are you allowed to be here?"
"Just tell me where the dressing rooms are-" Before you knew it, you had bumped into someone and your ankles had given out, making you scramble for something, anything to hold on to. That just happened to be a white shirt with a familiar face on it. A yelp left your lips and you could feel yourself falling, waiting for the linoleum floor to hit your knees. Instead, there were warm hands on the small of your back, lifting you back on your feet as your fists let go of the shirt.
"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention and," your mind rushed for something to say as you steadied yourself shakily, ears going red with embarrassment, "I'm so, so sorry." When you looked up though, you found that the white shirt also just happened to be worn by a familiar face— Dwayne Hoover. Your breath caught in your throat as your entire face went aflame, pushing yourself away from his slack-jawed self to lean against the wall.
"Dwayne! What're you- You're-" you stumbled over your words (just like how you stumbled into him, your mind reminded) and he squinted, hard. "(y/n), is that you?" His voice was hoarse as if he hadn't spoken in a long time and you could only hear your heart pound in your ears as took a step closer to you. "Oh...it is you," he mumbled, looking away from you with red cheeks while scratching the back of your neck. Wait, he was talking. Not only that, but he knew who you were! Your heart did flips.
"Wha- Since when have you started talking again?" you asked through hidden glee, pushing a thick curl away from your face. His face soured and he looked down at his feet, "since when have you done this whole...pageant thing?" A frown was quick to replace the slight smile on your face when you both realized your predicament and remembered what his vow was for. You had vividly remembered him writing it down in that notepad he had, showing what it read to the class with a bored expression when your history teacher asked about his silence. I won't say anything until I join the Air Force.
It was then that your little crush had developed— you would look back at him whenever you got the chance, occasionally making eye contact. But you never made a move to talk to him or introduce yourself, too afraid of looking like an idiot. All you knew about him was that he didn't like people and that he loved Nietzsche’s idea of Übermensch. Oh, how your friends would tease you over his brooding stares and flippant attitude but all you could do was swoon. And now he was here in front of you, seeing the side of you that you hadn't wanted anyone to know about.
"Dwayne!" You stumbled into his arms again, frantically this time with your hands balled up tightly and with tears threatening to slip from your eyes, "I- I know you only know me from History and that you have no reason to but I need you to pretend you never saw this, okay?" Dwayne stared down at you with a raised brow and those cute, flushed cheeks of his as he pushed you away gently by the shoulders. "About...what?" Was he playing dumb or did he seriously not understand what you were talking about?
"About me. The pageant stuff. I can't have anyone know about it," you repeated, slightly ashamed that you could only focus on the warmth of Dwayne's hands on your bare shoulders. He gave you a poignant stare and opened his mouth to say something, only to close it once more. "Why?" he asked as you struggled to answer him, making him sigh and drop his hands back to his sides. "Fine. It can wait," he began as you gaped wildly, "help me find the dressing rooms first, yeah?" You hesitated but then nodded, taking a step forward, only to wobble again.
Dwayne's hands were on your waist now, steadying you instinctively and then looking up at you from under his long, dark eyelashes. "Thank you," you said quickly, placing one of your hands over his as you straightened out, knees still shaking as you tried to balance. "Here, I'll just..." Dwayne trailed off as he kneeled at your feet, undoing the straps on both heels before looking up at your flushed face. His cheeks were bright red as you stepped out of them, reaching down to hook the straps with your fingers.
"Thanks, again," you muttered before taking his wrist into your empty hand, "the dressing rooms are this way." He followed behind you without a single complaint but you could feel his eyes on your hand. What you didn't see was just how red his face was as you led him to where his sister was. The second you had reached the door though, he had rushed into the busy room, side-stepping all the girls to get to the back. You followed him blindly, struggling to keep up until you bumped into his back harshly.
You lifted a hand to your forehead and stepped out from behind Dwayne who looked at you with pink cheeks before turning back around to face a woman who looked just the slightest bit like him. "Who's this?" the woman asked with a creeping smile from beside a man who looked nothing like Dwayne at all. Dwayne frowned, ears going red as he pointed at you with his thumb, "this is (y/n). A...classmate. Now, where's Olive?" He asked those last words with exasperation, as the woman (who you assumed was his mother) pointed over his shoulder with a raised brow. "What's up?"
You turned around to see a little girl sitting at a vanity, fiddling with a hat in her hands. She looked anything but happy there but you doubted it had to do with Mrs. Hoover. If Mrs. Hoover was anything like yours, the girl would have been covered head to toe with spray tanner and with hair curled until it hurt. But the little girl was just there, dressed up in her cute little suit. It made your heart churn— you would've given anything for your childhood to be as cute as that, no expectations forced onto you. Yet, among the dolled-up girls around you both, you could only assume that it was only damaging the little girl's self-esteem.
"Mom, I don't want Olive doing this," you heard Dwayne proclaim as Mrs. Hoover answered with astonishment in her voice, "look around. This place is fucked! Look, I don't want these people judging Olive! Fuck them!" Dwayne's frantic voice got fainter and Olive around, eyes landing on you who stared back with wide eyes. "Wow," Olive sighed, "you're so pretty." You could feel your heart wrench at the sad look in her eyes despite the sweet words she had muttered. You took a few steps forward and gave her a half-smile, crouching down beside her.
"Why, thank you. You look stunning yourself," you said sweetly, as Olive's cheeks went pink and she gave you an adorable toothy grin. "Oh...you don't mean that," she replied as she fiddled with the ends of her long blonde hair. A knot found itself in your brow and you tilted your head, "now why do you say that?" Olive faltered and took off her glasses, twirling them in between her fingers. "I...I'm not pretty at all. I don't even have sparkles on my eyes like you."
"Olive Hoover!"
You grimaced at Olive's self-deprecating remarks and took her hands into your own, looking into her eyes with a furrowed brow. "Don't ever say that, Olive. You are the prettiest girl I've seen compete," you began as her eyes flickered to yours with shining eyes, "inside and out." On a whim, you took a gem off from each eye (one that wouldn't go noticed by your mother when missing) and stuck it on the outer corner of hers, smiling in satisfaction when she turned to the mirror with a bright grin.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Olive beamed, wrapping her small arms around your neck as you wrapped your arms loosely around her back. When you pulled away, you turned to find the Hoover family staring down at you, making you nervously get up. Mrs. Hoover smiled at you and mouthed 'thank you' as she passed you to lean over next to Olive. Dwayne, on the other hand, was looking at you as though you were a saint, something that didn't go unnoticed by you or the man next to him.
"Why're you staring at me like that," you mumbled with red cheeks, fiddling with the heels that you still held in your hands. Dwayne snapped out of his trance almost immediately and struggled to say any words, shooting a glance at the rest of his family who walked off with Olive. "I-It's nothing. Let's go," he said, embarrassed before taking your wrist in his hand. Even though your mother was probably looking for you so you could get re-pampered for the final ceremony, you followed in his quick steps towards the auditorium.
As you all got closer, a man dressed in all white stood up and followed behind Dwayne with a raised brow. "Is she going on?" the man asked as you kept up pace beside Dwayne who replied with a simple 'yeah'. Seconds later, the man looked at you, turning to Dwayne again. "Who's this?" Dwayne didn't even look at him as they looked for the right room. "(y/n). My classmate from school. (y/n), that's my Uncle Frank." Frank raised a hand as a wave and then raised a brow once more.
"Wait, (y/n)? As in the girl you were telling me about earlier?"
Dwayne stopped in his tracks, making you bump into his back for the second time, this time with a burning disposition. Dwayne's face was unbelievably red when he turned to look at his uncle, glaring as he forced out a 'yes'. You had no time to react as Dwayne walked into the auditorium Mrs. Hoover had walked through, following after him with a goofy smile on your face. When you sat next to him, you couldn't stop staring at him, swooning silently.
"You're staring," Dwayne said matter-of-factly while you rested your chin on his shoulder with a proud grin. "You were talking about me?" you cooed as Dwayne stammered to find an answer as the crowd cheered for the last contestant. "Just...watch the show." You giggled lowly and turned to the stage, clapping when Olive nervously got on stage. Before she started, she waved over the host who you still were creeped out by, watching as she took his microphone into her hands.
"Um, I'd like to dedicate this to my grandpa who showed me these moves," Olive began, making your heart melt, as well as the rest of the crowd. "Oh, that is so sweet! Is he here? Where is your grandpa right now?" You could only smile at Olive from your seat, even when her response made the rest of the crowd break out into concerned whispers: "In the trunk of our car." The host, visibly uncomfortable, stepped away and motioned to Olive with an awkward smile, "take it away, Olive!"
When Super Freak started playing, you couldn't deny that you were a bit startled at first, watching Olive pretend to make out with someone as her starting move. Your shock quickly melted into pride as Olive continued dancing like no one was watching, making you smile uncontrollably. You were so enraptured by her cute little dance moves that you hadn't noticed the quirk of a smile on Dwayne's face as he looked at you start swaying to the beat.
"You suck!" "You stink!"
Your swaying stopped and you felt your heart clench at Olive's faltering smile. When Frank stood up and started clapping you were quick to join him, not missing a beat. Dwayne stood up next, clapping with you both and smiling down at you in a way you had never seen before. You couldn't help but smile back up at him and then back at Olive, hoping he couldn't hear just how loud your heart was beating. Not before long though, the judge had walked up to you and Dwayne's family, incredibly furious.
"What is your daughter doing?" the judge cried and you recognized her as Miss Jenkins, the judge your mother had always sucked up to and the same one that always complimented you. "She's kickin' ass, that's what she's doing," Mr. Hoover had replied, making Miss Jenkins angrily stomp away. You followed her every move, letting your hands falter when you noticed the judge talking to the host, pointing at Olive. You could feel yourself sour when the host tried grabbing Olive, attempting to stop her little performance.
"Hey! Hey! Let go of my daughter!"
Dwayne and Frank were rushing after Mr. Hoover who now had tackled the host, making you let out an embarrassingly loud whoop. You could only thank whatever was up above as the host started screeching like a little girl, watching in pure exuberant glee. When Olive managed to keep dancing you cheered again, ignoring the stares of the people around you. Your smile was unstoppable as instead of stopping Olive, Mr. Hoover joined in on her dancing, gaining another cry of disdain from Miss Jenkins.
Frank had hopped onto the stage too and Dwayne followed soon after with some stupid-looking hip thrusts that made you laugh. When he waved you on, you had no reason to not join in on the fun. That is until a firm grip had landed on your wrist. You went pale when you found your mother standing there with a grimace, her alcohol-laced breath making you grimace. "(y/n) (m/n) (l/n). If you go on that damn stage, I will never forgive you." You looked back at Dwayne who had slowed his dancing while you noted that Mrs. Hoover had already left for the stage before she had noticed what trouble you had been in.
You were the only one left.
When your aunt appeared beside your mother, you hadn't even thought about what you had done next. You had pushed your drunk mother into your aunt, releasing yourself from her tight grip as you ran to the stage. You stumbled your way into Dwayne's arms, taking his hands in yours as the two of you began to dance, laughter pouring from each of you endlessly. All you could see was him as you both twirled around, dancing as if the world wasn't there.
His green eyes were the only thing you could focus on as the music continued playing, fingers interlocked. You could feel your hairdo come loose and the makeup had started to sweat off but he never took his eyes off you. The two of you could only hope the moment would never end, him in that 1984 shirt and you in your glittery pageant dress, heels long discarded. "Hey, do you trust me?" he shouted above the music as you laughed and nodded, noticing the music had almost come to an end. In one quick move, he had dipped you back, making you snort through your laughter, swinging yourself back into his arms when the last note played.
"Hey, Dwayne, I-"
"(y/n), I-"
The two of you froze at the proximity between you and you couldn't help but look at his lips. You could feel your heart pounding at a thousand miles a minute, redirecting your gaze to his chest. "Are you going to finish your sentence?" Dwayne asked— you could feel his smile against your forehead. You looked up with pink cheeks and a heavy tongue, mustering up the courage to finally tell him how you felt. "I like you. Would you be my boyfriend?" You could feel Dwayne's heart thump by your ear and it was then that you got your answer. "(y/n)..."
"Yeah! All right!"
When you had first started doing beauty pageants, the last thing you had expected to keep you from doing them was dancing on a stage with your crush's family. When you first saw Dwayne, the last thing you had expected was to start dating him at said beauty pageant after dancing with him and his family. But none of that mattered. What did matter was that you were sitting beside him with your hands intertwined, laughing lowly as your mother watched across from you both.
"What am I supposed to tell my friends if they ask how we started dating?" you whispered through giggles as Dwayne hummed in mock thought. "Tell them the truth," he replied simply as your laughter died down a bit, looking down at his hands before looking back up at him. "I...I can't. They'd make fun of me," you muttered as he tilted his head down to meet your eyes. "I wouldn't let them," he said through a smirk as you gave a soft laugh, resting your head against his shoulder.
"MOM, I'M just going out with the girls tonight, I told you!" You kept a hand cupped around your mouth and the receiver end of your flip phone, hoping she couldn't hear Klitz or Matt talk on their phones beside you. "Don't wait up. I'll be late tonight," Klitz said to whom you presumed was his father, "I'll watch it with you tomorrow, Shark Week is all week long." You stifled a chuckle and peered over at Klitz from your peripherals, making brief eye contact just as your mother started growing suspicious over the other end of the line.
"Who's that in the background? Is that a boy?! (y/n), do you have a boyfriend?!" Your mother's voice echoed through the car just as Matt and Klitz finished their calls, making you gulp. "Yes, Mom. I'm with Klitz, the guy I've been madly in love with since freshman year. Did you know he just got into Yale?" Ha, as if you would ever say that. "N-No! The girls and I are just at uh- Seven-Eleven! Yeah!" you sputtered, concealing your spike in anxiety with loud laughter, "I'll text you when we're done!" Your mother's goodbyes were cut short as you frantically ended the call, sighing heavily.
"So...since when are we girls?" asked Eli with a raised brow and a teasing grin, making you grimace. "Oh, shut up," you said with a roll of your eyes, leaning back into the car seat, "my mom would've lost it if she found out I was hanging with you three right now." Eli smirked and looked at you and Klitz through the rearview mirror. "Imagine if she knew you and Klitzy were in the back seat of a car on your way to a porno convention," he teased, raising his brows for the added effect. Klitz coughed hard into his elbow, glasses fogging up as you resisted the urge to slap Eli who had luckily (for him at least) been sitting in the driver's seat.
Matt gave Eli a stern look from over the rim of the map, "imagine if your parents found your massive porno collection." Eli went visibly pale and cleared his throat as you gave Matt a grateful look. You could make out Klitz's flushed face from your peripherals, illuminated by the flashing lights outside the window. A smirk tugged at your lips as your mind raced with hopeful thoughts— surely his reaction meant he felt something for you too, right? But what if he was just embarrassed by you? Your smirk fell immediately when the thought took over, leaving you to look down at the car floor.
"Hey, (y/n), come look."
You raised your head as Klitz beckoned you closer, signaling out the window. "It's the Desert Club Resort," he pointed out as you excitedly shuffled to his side, leaning over him in glee to press your face against the window. "Holy shit!" You watched the fountain in awe, not noticing the knowing looks shared between Klitz, Eli, and Matt. All that Klitz could try to focus on was the headrest of the seat in front of him and ignore the way your thighs pressed up against his. He counted down from a thousand in his head and tried to not think of how nice you smelled or just how close you were.
Eventually, the four of you reached your destination— a hotel with a flashing sign that read 'Las Vegas Welcomes the Adult Film Convention'. You all hopped out of the car, you pulling your hoodie closer to yourself. In hindsight, maybe coming to a 'porno convention', as Eli had dubbed it, wasn't the best place for a woman to be at. Well, looked like you'd just have to stick close to the Tripod and hope for the best. "(y/n), here's your badge," Eli said, snapping you out of your trance as he handed it to Klitz who walked over to you. Instead of simply handing it to you, though, Klitz slid it over your head, adjusting your hair haphazardly with a half-smile. "Thanks..." you mumbled, eyes never leaving his as you felt the tips of your ears start to burn.
"Let's head in. We need to find Danielle," reminded Matt, urging you all to head in quickly. You looked up at Klitz who still wore that half-smile of his while nodding his chin towards the entrance. The closer you all got, the louder the sounds of cheering and camera shutters became, making any words that might have been shared between you all impossible to hear. There was a growing crowd and as you walked, you found it harder to keep up with your three friends, stumbling to try and match their quick strides. "Hey! Guys! Wait up! Eli, Matt!" you were frantic in your shouting as you started to lose sight of them, breath catching in your throat, "Klitz!"
The familiar warmth of Klitz's hand around your wrist brought you immediate comfort as you were pulled forward against his side. "Stay close, okay?" You could only nod and hope that in the darkness of the tunnel you walked through, he couldn't see your flushed face. Yet, when you looked up, he looked just as flustered, glasses fogged to the nines. In a surge of confidence, you wrapped your arms around one of his, pulling it against your chest tightly. Klitz had never looked at you as fast, blinking wildly as you smiled innocently back up at him, watching as he struggled to clear up his glasses.
Seconds later, the four of you found yourselves amid a giant room, photos of semi-nude girls plastered on every wall, and some of those very same girls standing in front of their posters to get their pictures taken. Everywhere you turned was another scantily-clad girl posing for an endless barrage of cameras. And truth be told, they were so gorgeous that you couldn't help but stare. Eli, of course, was having a field day, recording everything in sight with a handheld video camera. While Matt was focused on finding Danielle, Klitz simply looked around, though he seemed slightly distant. Was he not enjoying this?
"Move it!"
A sharp shove sent you barreling back, almost sending both you and Klitz falling backward. "Sorry," you replied weakly as Klitz grimaced, looking down at you with a furrowed brow. "You good?" "Yeah, 'm fine." You both caught back up with Matt and Eli, just as a man came up and grabbed Eli's shirt. "Yo, man, no press." Eli raised his hands as the man kept a tight grip on his shirt, "No, no. No, I'm not press- uh- I'm still in high school, okay? This is for my high school video yearbook. I swear to god," Eli explained desperately, just as the man let go of his shirt, pushed him away, and skulked back into the crowd. Once out of sight, Eli adjusted his shirt with a grin, “that’s right, bitch.”
You rolled your eyes and then looked around the giant room, searching for Danielle until you spotted a giant poster of her and two other girls. “Hey! Matt! I think that’s Danielle,” you pointed out as trashy pop instrumentals blared in your ears. The four of you came to a stop and Eli managed to catch a glimpse of her, elbowing Matt. “Jesus, is that her?” You looked up at Klitz with a furrowed brow, not wanting to see the shock that had spread across Matt’s face. “Guys, maybe we should just go,” you mumbled— as much as you loved Danielle, you couldn’t bear to see Matt so distraught. “Gimme a second, guys.” You turned and watched as Matt pushed his way through the men in front of Danielle, yelling her name. “Aww, how sweet,” you cooed, absentmindedly resting your head against Klitz’s arm.
“Gross,” said Eli through a gag as Klitz stiffened up next to you. “Dude,” you leaned forward to give Eli a look, making him raise his hands. “Hey, I’m allowed to have my opinions. Matty is my friend too,” Eli defended before crossing his arms and looking you and Klitz up and down, “and do you guys have to shove your relationship in my face? I thought we were a tripod!” You felt your face go ablaze as you let go of Klitz’s arm, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets. “We still are, asshole. And we’re not dating,” grumbled Klitz as you leaned back on the balls of your feet while muttering to yourself, “three legs and the support beams, haha...” You had to admit, Klitz’s response stung but it wasn’t like he wasn’t justified in saying it. The two of you weren’t dating.
You turned back to look at the crowd, looking for Matt with a grimace until you noticed that you couldn’t find him— or Danielle. “Guys…where’s Matt?” Eli and Klitz looked at each other with worried expressions until you bolted off, looking for Matt. Maybe you just didn’t want to be around Klitz, but looking for Matt was enough of an excuse to step away from him and Eli. So you did, pushing through the crowd while keeping your hood over your head. There was flashing everywhere and you brought up an arm to block the light, yelling out for Matt despite the blasting music. Eventually, you reached a clearing, and in the middle of it stood Matt, looking half-dejected and half-determined.
“Matt!”
“(y/n)!”
Just as Matt heard you call him, a hand turned you around and you were face to face with Klitz, glasses fogging as he tried to catch his breath. “Seriously…don’t run off like that…again,” he huffed as the tips of your ears burned, Eli and Matt eventually walking up to the both of you. “So, how’d it go?” asked Eli, his camera in hand, recording any woman he caught a glimpse of. Matt looked at the floor, a knot in his brow, but before any of you could console him, he stormed off towards the corner of the hall. “D-dude, wait up!” The three of you stumbled after Matt, catching up after a few frantic seconds. You fell into step between Klitz and Eli, staring at the back of Matt’s head worriedly.
“Matt, seriously, man, it’s two o’clock in the morning,” started Eli as Matt continued on his route, “what about that thing you have? Okay, the scholarship dinner?” Jeez, you’d almost forgotten about that. “Sorry, I gotta do this.” You looked at Klitz and Eli nervously and sighed quietly when Matt didn’t let up. “Looks like we’ll be coming home a bit later than expected,” you muttered, just as a yawn escaped your lips. Klitz looked down at you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “if you’re tired, we can go.” Eli looked appalled and looked over at Klitz, “no way! I still have to bang some hot chicks, man!” You rolled your eyes and looked at Klitz with a soft smile, “it’s cool. We came here to help Matt out. We can’t ditch him now just ‘cause I’m tired.”
Klitz gave one of his half-smiles again just as you reached a room blocked off by curtains. Matt pushed through them without a second thought, not caring about the change in atmosphere. It felt almost…wrong to be there. People made out in every corner, groping each other wildly as if the world was ending. Eli looked like he was in heaven as you stood by the entrance, listening to the moans that filled the air with a big smile. You, on the other hand, were panicking, not even daring to look at Klitz. You could feel yourself go warm, goosebumps running up and down your arms as your mind filled with thoughts of making out with Klitz in a similar way. You could only hope your friends couldn’t sense your apprehension.
“Oh, by the way, if things get bad, just bolt, okay?” Matt’s words snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked at him with a raised brow. “What? What do you mean, “if things get bad”?” asked Eli exasperatedly as you felt fear gather in the bottom of your stomach. Matt sighed and looked at all three of you, “just bolt.” You gulped as Eli turned to Klitz with an anxious smile, “w-what’s he talking about?” You took a deep breath, shaking out your anxiety as a woman passed by you, three drinks on the tray she carried. “Oh- uh- excuse me? Could I just…” you trailed off as the lady smiled, allowing you all to grab a drink. You stared at the blue martini with an awkward grin, turning to face your two remaining friends. “Okay, let’s just…make the most of this, guys.”
Klitz nodded and in one quick chug, he finished his martini. You stared in shock as Eli cackled and handed over his drink, encouraging Klitz to have some more. He downed that one as well and turned around, grabbing two more, one of which he finished and the other of which he kept in his hand. “Wow, okay,” you muttered as you laughed a bit, taking a small sip of the martini. It wasn’t particularly strong in terms of burning your throat but you had a feeling it would be a strong martini. Before you could continue analyzing your drink, Klitz had wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Let’s go take a seat, yeah?”
As Klitz led you to a small couch in the middle of the room, you shared a nervous glance with Eli who gave you a smirk and a thumbs-up. Klitz’s arm left your waist as he took a seat on the loveseat, followed by Eli, leaving no space for you to sit. “Uh, I’ll go find a stool or something-“ “No need for that.” Your words were cut off when Klitz pulled you onto his lap, smiling at your flushed features. You locked eyes with Eli again who stifled a laugh and opted to look around the room rather than at your embarrassed face. Klitz’s arm snaked its way back around your waist and you could only look at the bottom of your drink, trembling in his grasp. You were going to thank Danielle and Matt for this later.
At some point, Klitz took another sip of his drink and caught a glance of a pretty woman walking in through the curtain, a red martini in her gloved hand. “Hi.” The woman scoffed and walked away and you fidgeted in Klitz’s lap, drinking some of your alcohol. “Guys…am I ugly?” Albeit directed to both you and Eli, Klitz only looked at you, leaning his head on your shoulder with a frown. You flushed but set your martini down firmly, taking his cheek into your hand— man, now the alcohol you were drinking was starting to set in. “What, no,” you slurred, rubbing his cheek with your thumb, “you’re the prettiest boy I know.” Klitz smiled at you, a full one that made you giggle as you moved your hand up to mess with his hair.
You hadn’t even noticed when a gorgeous woman took the couch in front of you three, making Eli sit up straighter. “So, what do you guys do?” she chirped, sitting forward on the palms of her hands. “I get freaky,” grinned Klitz, pulling you closer to him before looking up at you from beneath his eyelashes. Your heart kicked into overdrive and you rubbed your thighs together, hoping Klitz wouldn’t notice. She looked at the both of you awkwardly as Eli half-heartedly laughed, sitting up straighter again. “Oh-uh, we’re directors.” You and Klitz looked at Eli incredulously as she leaned forward again, this time with a bright, excited smile.
“Really?! Would you guys ever wanna use me in one of your movies?” You and Eli went slackjawed as Klitz leaned back and swirled around his martini, grip tightening around your waist. “Hell yeah, we’ll use you. Baby, I’ll do things to you I wouldn’t do to a farm animal—“ you felt your entire body go on fire as he turned to you, pushing some hair behind your ear, “—though, of course, my girl here takes priority in those kinds of things.” You took a sharp breath as he moved his thumb to brush over your lip, just as you noticed a large man standing behind you three. “What the fuck did you just say?” The three of you looked back, fear coursing through your veins.
“Honey. These guys are directors and they wanna use me,” the lady explained excitedly as you grabbed hold of Klitz’s sweater, taking a nervous sip of your drink. “Use you?” Klitz looked at you just as you started to down the rest of your martini, readying yourself in case the three of you would have to bolt. “Guys, this is my boyfriend, Mule.” He stared at the three of you, and Eli gave him a shaky smile and wave. “Hi, Mule.” The next thing you knew, the five of you were all talking about the lady in front of you. "Man, you gotta use my girl, bro," Mule started, leaning on his knees as his girlfriend smiled at him, "she's so good." "I am, I really am." You chuckled, still nervous, and took Klitz's martini from his hand, downing the rest before keeping up your smile— Klitz had watched with a shaky breath.
"You wanna give her a throw?" You, Eli, and Klitz laughed nervously, looking everywhere but the intimidating man in front of you. "Yeah, try me out!" Eli was quick to shut down their offer with a "No, you know, no, I'm okay, though, thank you." Mule shifted in his spot, looking at Eli with a half-glare. "Well, come on. At least feel her tits," Mule insisted as you looked at Klitz who had started looking at your chest instead. "I'm okay. I can't. Thank you, though." You looked down at Klitz who then turned to Mule, cracking his fingers and neck. "Fuck it, I'll feel one," he gave Mule a half-smile and then turned to you, leaning into your ear, "mind if I compare?"
You nodded without a second thought, breath hitching when his hand came into contact with your chest. When a moan slipped from his lips, you straightened up in his lap, not even caring that he was also grabbing the other lady's chest at that point. Eli was beyond shocked as you swallowed back a moan, placing your head in the crook of his neck as Klitz continued groping your chest. You would not complain if Matt and Danielle got into more fights that resulted in you and Eli ending up like this. "Not bad, huh? Those suckers cost me six grand—" "Yo, Mule, what the hell are you doing?" The three of you looked over immediately, freezing up when the security man from earlier appeared.
"Steel, check it out, man. These guys are directors," Mule said with a grin as Klitz pulled his hands back to his sides. "Man, these punks ain't directors. They're in high school, you idiot." You all looked at one another as Eli chuckled awkwardly, raising a hand. "Okay, so here's the thing—" The three of you were off the couch without a second thought, running past the curtains as the couch was toppled over. "Damn, I was really starting to like that couch," you cried, shoving your way through the crowd until you all stopped at the railing. Except for Eli. You and Klitz watched as he landed in a cake shaped like tits, getting it all over his face.
You and Eli were next up but you had no plans to jump into some cake. You looked behind you, finding that you were still partially blocked by the countless people— enough that Mule couldn't have seen you. Without a second thought, you pushed through some more curtains, pulling Klitz with you. The room you both found yourself in, however, was filled with more people making out. Mule's voice was getting louder now and if he had seen you two, you'd definitely get caught considering you were both the odd ones out. Mule's voice was almost deafening now and without a second thought, you pushed Klitz against the wall.
"Kiss me. Now."
It didn't take Klitz even a second as he leaned down to meet your lips, smashing them onto yours hungrily as he pulled you up against him. You followed as best you could, ignoring Mule's faint yells as you pushed back against his surprisingly soft lips. He tasted like the blue raspberry martinis he had been downing and you were thirsty for more. His hands were roaming every possible curve on your body, itching to bring the both of you closer until you couldn't distinguish what was yours and what was his. The bass from the speakers was drowned out by Klitz repeating your name over and over as if he'd forget it. Despite all this, you were almost immovable, shaken by the force of his kiss. You must have been in a dream.
But it wasn't long until he brought you back into reality, pulling away with heavy breaths and fogged up glasses. "(y/n), I—" Klitz's whiny voice was cut off by your lips on his and you brought your hands up to get tangled up in his soft hair, tugging it occasionally. Every moan he made left you trembling as you stood there, biting down on his lips until you pulled away to nip at his neck. His calls of your name were addictive and all you could hope was that this wouldn't end anytime soon. "(y/n), please..." His chest heaved against yours and you could feel something poke at your thigh but you couldn't stop. It wasn't until he kissed you once more that you pulled away, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes.
"Please go to the prom with me."
Your eyes widened and your heart burst out of your chest as you almost screamed. "Yes, yes, yes, I will." Your mouths were back on each other within seconds, his fogged-up glasses hitting your face as you muttered your answer over and over. It wasn't until someone cleared their throat beside you that you both pulled away, disheveled beyond belief. "E-Eli, Matt, what are you guys doing here?" Klitz asked as you both straightened up, standing side-by-side awkwardly. "Looking for you guys...looks like you guys weren't looking for us," grumbled Eli as Matt coughed again, making Klitz pull his sweater over his crotch. It only pulled down the collar which revealed the red marks on his neck.
YOU SHOULD HAVE known— should have known that he wouldn't be here again. It might not have been right that he wasn't here across from you, holding your hand in his, brushing his thumb over your knuckles as he always would. Always... Again you were fooling yourself with delusions of things he used to do. Things he did when the two of you were still in love.
You bit down on your lip, chewing on it until it was raw. It stung. You took one last swig of the wine and placed a crumpled-up twenty on the empty plate in front of you. You should have been far more disappointed than you were at the moment and somehow you weren't. But it was simple: this wasn't the first time he'd done things like this.
"I'll be here this time, I promise."
"You know I didn't mean to last time."
"I'll let Josefumi know I can't help him today, okay?"
Thinking back on it now, you were disappointed in yourself. He had been flakey recently, running off to god-knows-where while he left you without explanation. You'd always ask, beg to know where he was going; every time, he'd just stare and shake his head. God, you should have taken the damn bottle of wine with you.
Who were you kidding? Even when the two of you had first started dating, he was never home, always out for work, always coming back after weeks of being gone. You grimaced— he was a marine surgeon after all. Every time you looked forward to seeing him seemed to always be prefaced with painful solitude.
But why'd he do it?
You had both known the complications of your relationship. You were very aware of how long he'd be away from you. You had always promised to wait for him, stand there at the docks as the boat he was on came back into port. He knew that you knew these things, so why was it that he let everything fall to ruin?
Pitiful stares fell onto your drunken frame, watching as you swayed down the sidewalk, a pair of shoes hanging from your fingers. The bottom had unstuck from the rest of the shoe and they had already left behind blisters on your feet. You bit back the welled-up tears that if left alone, would turn into an ocean.
You'd always played fair in this pitiful game— you could have cheated on him at any time, left him for one of your classmates. There was that cute Yasuho chick you'd run into the other day and even the Joshu guy she was with. Who was to say you couldn't have cheated? But the thing was, you didn't.
You had poured your heart out to him, moved into that little house by the sea with him, kept his mother company while he was away, spent time with his sister— you'd done so much and now you felt cheated. None of it mattered now. He was gone on another one of his damn excursions when he could've spent that time with you before his next month-long work trip.
Why did he have to leave you all alone?
As much as you wanted to believe there was something else to the whole situation (another partner, really), you knew he was loyal to a fault. He cared for you and you knew that damn well. He cared for his mother, his sister, and Josefumi too. He was quite cold on the outside and knew people didn't like that, always pissed off at him for one thing or another. You loved him and he loved you.
But after waiting so damn long for him every damn day, you were so tired. Tired of loving him. You couldn't bear to face the truth, wishing for something to bring you back to him again. He always came back to you, pulling you to him like the moon did the tide, enrapturing you with the smell of sea salt that had stuck to him. He always-
"(y/n)!"
You spun around to face a frantic Holy and Kei, running up to you with tear-stained faces. "H-Holy! What's the matter-" "It's Yoshikage!" Your heart dropped. You didn't even need to hear Holy's next words to know he was gone. Gone for good. You could only watch Kei grab her delusional mother whose condition had seemed to worsen tenfold before your eyes.
The tears that had once pricked at your eyes were gone and you could only muster a nod, turning away as Kei shouted your name. Your bare feet dragged against the concrete, as you found your vision swaying. Kei had managed to grab you and her mother with tears running down her face.
"(y/n), please!" You had slumped down against the wall of the storefront beside you, laughing lowly to yourself. Ignoring Kei's pleading, you looked out at the distant sea, almost seeing a phantom of yourself waiting for him with a smile. In the end, he had been the one to leave you...as always."
BOTH GIRLS sat in the lobby of the hospital, (y/n) still flipping through the pages of the book. "So, are there any clues as to who he is?" asked Yasuho as she rested her chin on the other girl's shoulder. (y/n) shook her head, scanning over the pages like she had been doing ever since they had found the man a day prior. "I want to say that he's a Joestar but I can't confirm anything unless we find a family tree or something," sighed (y/n), closing the book with a huff, "plus, once great-great-grandma passed away, my Kishibe-side put that motto in place so I doubt we have any recent information on the Joestars."
Yasuho pouted solemnly as her grip tightened around the two packages of Sesame Honey Dumplings. (y/n) looked at the other girl from her peripherals, with a soft smile. "I'm sure we'll figure out who he is," (y/n) paused to place a hand on Yasuho's shoulders, only for her to whip her head to look at her with a furrowed brow. "What even are the mottos you're talking about?" Yasuho asked while scouring the other girl's face for answers and only receiving a strained smile.
"Well, as a Kishibe, I was told to never trust a 'Jojo' but as a Speedwagon, it looks like I always have to help a 'Joestar'; and as you can tell, there's a 'Jo' in 'Joestar'," she explained to Yasuho who still wasn't too satisfied. (y/n) smiled and stood up, holding out a hand to the pink-haired girl. "Don't worry," she assured as Yasuho took her hand, "I'm definitely going to fulfill my role as a Speedwagon. Even if he isn't actually a Joestar." Yasuho gave her a smile that made her heart skip a beat and her ears burn.
After pulling Yasuho up, (y/n) turned away, looking at the passersby without a clue as to why she was doing so. "P-plus, it might take a while, but I'm sure he'll figure out who he is eventually! In the meantime, why don't you take those dumplings to him?" Yasuho looked down at her gift and (y/n)'s lack of one. "Hey, didn't you say you'd get him a get-well gift?" Yasuho questioned, while (y/n) gave a playful scoff. "Yeah, of course! I have it right-" (y/n) froze at the sight of her great-great-grandma's old notebook— she forgot.
(y/n)'s gaze robotically fell onto Yasuho's second box of dumplings. "Yasuho, darling," (y/n) began with a few 'seductive' blinks of her eyelashes and with an arm on the wall by Yasuho's head, "think I could have that second box of dumplings?" Yasuho's brow furrowed as she gave (y/n) a knowing look. "That won't work on me, honey. The other box is for Joshu." (y/n) groaned and put her face in her hands, hoping to cover her flushed expression. And also because, ugh, Joshu existed and she just had to be reminded.
"Ugh. Right. That asshole is here too," (y/n) groaned while Yasuho began pushing her in the direction of the gift shop. Yasuho seemingly didn't have a comment on (y/n)'s hatred for him but the girl was far too nice to ever really have such a strong opinion on someone. "Do I have to get him something?" (y/n) whined while Yasuho gave her a tight-lipped smile, "aww, but Yasuhoo, I don't wannaaaa." "If I had to, so do you."
After a reluctant trudge over to the shop, the two girls found themselves standing in front of a shirt with an out-of-date slogan on it. While Yasuho looked through other clothes, (y/n) looked at it with proud tears in her eyes. "I...I think Mr. Joestar would love this," she said with a smoldering look, "I think it would be good to see him in it as a reference for that character I was telling you about." Yasuho looked at the shirt and back to (y/n) with a raised brow, "oh, c'mon (y/n), don't use the poor guy as reference material."
(y/n) hummed and took one final look at the shirt before tilting her head to the side, a pout on her face. She was really hoping to use him as a reference but if Yasuho was telling her not to, she'd have to listen. Well, at least while Yasuho was around. As she put the shirt back, (y/n) saw a bright pink scarf with sequins on it. In an instant, it was in her arms— a tacky gift for a tacky guy by the name of Joshu.
"Is that for who I think it is?" Yasuho asked while stifling a laugh, "please tell me it is." (y/n) gave her a wide grin before showing it off. "If you must know, it is for our dearest friend Joshu who requires some sparkle to bring back his eyesight." Yasuho doubled over before taking hold of the fabric, "I can't wait to see his reaction." "What's he going to react to? The feeling of the scarf?" Yasuho was reduced to a giggly mess while (y/n) smiled and turned to look through the stuffed animal section.
"I think I'll get Mr. Joestar one of these cuties," (y/n) said aloud once Yasuho's laughter had died down. She had placed her chin on (y/n)'s shoulder while the girl picked up a fluffy blue bear. "Think he'd like it?" asked Yasuho while fiddling with the ends of the pink scarf. (y/n) hummed for a moment before scanning the shelves, spotting a yellow dog with a sailor hat. "Hey...doesn't it kinda look like Josuke?"
Yasuho stared at the puppy with a fond smile, making (y/n)'s face burn— up close, Yasuho was awfully pretty. "You know, that guy kinda reminds me of him too." (y/n) brushed off her thoughts and held out the stuffed animal to look at from afar. While squinting, she somehow saw the guy's face. "Heh, you're right-" Yasuho stepped back, leaving (y/n)'s shoulder uncomfortably cold, "-I think I'll just get him this." Once purchased, and despite (y/n)'s complaints, they were off to Joshu's hospital room.
"(y/n)~ Yasuho~ You've come to visit little ol' me~?"
(y/n) grimaced as Joshu puckered his lips and batted his eyelashes while Yasuho gave him a hesitant smile. "Y-yeah! Just making sure you were okay, haha," Yasuho had mustered out before handing him a box of dumplings, "oh, and I got these for you." "Thank you, my little straw~ber~ry~," breathed out Joshu while (y/n) was on the verge of throwing up, preferably aimed into Joshu's gross mouth.
"As for you my favorite otaku~ Did you get me a get-well-present?" Joshu asked with a pout while she gagged. Yasuho nudged her and (y/n) was left to reluctantly pull out the scarf she had been previously excited to give to him. Sadly, the fool still had his vision so the joke was way less hilarious than she had hoped the exchange would be. "A scarf." Before he could say another word, she had chucked it at him and dragged Yasuho out of the room.
His faint shouts were like music to her ears and the sound of nurses rushing to his room to stop him was like a symphony. "So, what room is Mr. Joestar in?" (y/n) chirped as if she hadn't left her childhood enemy screaming at her in a different room. Yasuho hummed and then pulled a slip of paper with a scraggly set of numbers on it. "326," she replied simply, taking the lead instead of (y/n) who had really only visited the hospital to sit in the lobby and draw people when Yasuho was off hanging with her (now) ex-boyfriend.
When they reached the room, however, it was empty. (y/n)'s brow furrowed as Yasuho scanned the room— she had finally met a descendant of one of the people mentioned in her great-great-grandma's diary and now she lost him. Sure, it wasn't like it was of utmost importance but it had been a great inspiration for her new manga. And now it was all gone. "Dammit!" "Ow." Yasuho and (y/n) shot a glance at the mattress where the mystery guy just so happened to be.
"Holy shit!"
The two girls grabbed at each other, screaming in unison as the guy stared at them from the least expected place. "What in the world are you doing?!" screeched Yasuho as (y/n) remained glued to her side. The guy gave them both a sleepy grin that made (y/n) look away while biting her lip— she'd be lying if she didn't say that the Jo-guy wasn't hot and at that very moment she had been thanking her ancestor for passing down such a motto. Helping him meant staying around a pretty face after all.
"Hey, what's with you?" questioned Yasuho as (y/n) was pulled from her fantasies, "what're you doing down there?" Yasuho was definitely the better of the two for asking these questions. "What? Just what it looks like. I'm sleeping. The people wearing white clothes said I couldn't leave for a while," he replied while (y/n) crouched down and placed her chin in her hands, "what Yasuho meant to ask is why you're under there in the first place." The guy raised a brow from under his mattress, looking between the two girls.
"You mean people sleep on top? How would they put pressure on their bodies then?" Yasuho turned to (y/n) who could only muster half a shrug. "Sounds like a fetish or something," (y/n) said halfheartedly, "I mean, my great-great-grandma's friend said her friend had a thing for mosquito bites." Yasuho cringed just slightly before turning to the guy and holding out a box of dumplings that was smaller than what she had given to Joshu.
"Here, I got you a present. I thought I'd bring you something since you were in the hospital. (y/n) did too." As if on command, (y/n) held out the stuffed animal with a lopsided grin, "it kinda looked like you. Yasuho thought so too." Yasuho smiled in agreement and then started rambling about Joshu, his injuries, and why the two had come to visit while (y/n) nodded intermittently and the guy started to slide out from under the mattress. As he did so, the hem of his pants slowly slid lower and lower-
Four balls.
(y/n) broke out into laughter and turned away while Yasuho grimaced and shut her eyes tightly, crying out for him to stop before any more of his pants could fall off. While her friend had spiraled into mumbling against the wall, (y/n) had turned back around to find him examining the stuffed animal. "Like it?" (y/n) asked as he held it out in front of him, letting its limbs flop around. "Yes," he answered, turning to look at her from over his shoulder, "what is his name?" (y/n) hummed aloud in thought while plopping down onto the mattress.
"Mmm...Rohan is a cool name," she said with a smile, "but it's yours to name." The guy looked at her and then at the stuffed animal, setting it down next to her thigh and letting it flop on its side against her. "I like that name too." (y/n) felt the tip of her earns burn— it wasn't as if he had just flirted with her but she found his actions somehow attractive. The guy had now turned to Yasuho's gift, turning over the box and opening it carefully. "What are these?"
Yasuho had turned back around then with a raised brow, walking up beside him, "never had one? Morioh is famous for them." (y/n) watched fondly as Yasuho began to break into detail about the origins of the Sesame Honey Dumplings; ever since they were little, Yasuho had always had an addiction to them which eventually spread over to (y/n) when they became best friends during middle school. "...there's a special way to eat them. You gotta make sure not to bite with your front teeth."
"Oh, don't forget about chewing with your back teeth on the first bite," (y/n) added while the guy tentatively placed a dumpling in his mouth, doing the complete opposite of what he was supposed to. The black cream shot out from the gap between his teeth she hadn't realized he even had. It was...cute. As Yasuho reiterated what she had been saying, (y/n) couldn't take her eyes off him, especially when his odd-colored eyes glimmered with surprise.
MAN, OH, MAN DID SHE HOPE HE WAS A JOESTAR.
this cuts off at a weird spot but i felt this was pretty long already so yeah...lol
A RAGGED OLD notebook was clenched tightly in her arms as she and Yasuho hid behind a wall of dirt, both almost out of breath. "I...didn't even get to...show you what...I found," heaved (y/n) through heavy breaths, peering over the wall to make sure they had really lost Joshu. There was no sight of him so far, but that meant nothing. Joshu was an obsessed idiot that only affirmed her family motto— "Never trust a 'Jojo' as they are nothing but bad luck"— and in hindsight, she really should have listened.
But all that she was focused on now was making sure the guy didn't come anywhere close to Yasuho.
(y/n) looked at her friend, finding her to be much paler than she had before; "Nevermind," mumbled (y/n), pushing aside what she had been itching to tell the other girl, "are you okay? You don't look too good." Yasuho hummed lowly while holding her palm to her forehead, "...dizzy...can't stand up properly..." (y/n)'s brow furrowed and she leaned over to place a hand on Yasuho's forehead while simultaneously moving Yasuho's hand. Yasuho hummed again at the coolness of her touch, leaning into it and making (y/n)'s face flush. Her eyes looked anywhere but at the girl in front of her, only to find a man in the dirt a few meters away.
"Who the hell is that?!" she screeched, falling back onto the dirt as Yasuho jumped towards her, both girls embracing each other on instinct. "Wha-what do you want?!" shouted Yasuho, slightly out of breath as they stared for any indication of movement from him and only receiving muffled words. They looked at each other with a raised brow, Yasuho slowly inching toward the man in the dirt. (y/n) panicked internally and crept behind her, looking over the girl's shoulder with caution.
"Hey, are you alive?" she questioned as they stayed against the wall, "what the hell are you doing down there?" The shirtless man (she hadn't noticed until they had gotten closer) lifted his chin just enough for them to see his face, making (y/n)'s face burn— damn, was he good-looking. Yasuho backed away slightly and brought her out of her thoughts as he lifted a hand towards them. It wasn't until Yasuho noticed blood on his shoulder that her demeanor changed instantly from fear to worry.
"Can you hear me?! Are you seriously injured?! Are you dying?! Why are you buried in the ground?! Would you like me to call for help?!" she cried only for him not to reply as (y/n) pulled her phone out to take pictures. Yasuho's head spun to the side, looking at her in dismay as she took pictures of the man. "What?" asked (y/n) innocently as if what she was doing was normal, "I needed a pretty guy like him as reference for my manga." Yasuho rolled her eyes playfully with a soft smile.
"Kishibe (y/n), you are the craziest woman I have ever met." (y/n) gave her a grin before going back to taking more pictures as Yasuho dialed the police, "why thank you, miss!" As Yasuho made the call, (y/n) stopped her picture-taking, looking over the man's dazed face carefully, taking in every detail of his face and neck- a star. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of it, reaching for the notebook she had left up by in the dirt immediately. "Someone should be here soon to help— (y/n)?" Yasuho stopped to look at her panicked friend who flipped through the pages of the notebook she had wanted to show her earlier.
"A-A star! A star birthmark! I know great-great-grandma mentioned it in here!" Yasuho turned to look at the blood and birthmark closer, finding the wound to be a bite-mark. "Bite marks? Hard to tell...perhaps he was bitten by some wild animal? But what would leave those kinds of marks behind? Definitely made by some kind of teeth... What exactly did this?" Yasuho mumbled to herself while pulling her phone out to take a picture as her best friend flipped hurriedly through the notebook's pages. (y/n) flipped one final page and took a shaky breath, but his ragged voice interrupted before she could say another word.
"Hirose...Yasuho...Is that correct? Your...name?"
The two girls stared in shock as he looked around in confusion and then looked at (y/n), "and you...you're Kishibe...(y/n)?" They could only continue staring dumbfoundedly until his head fell into the mud with gurgling sounds. Yasuho screamed and (y/n) quickly threw the book over her shoulder, vividly remembering the words it had said inside— "Always help a Joestar as they are the bravest and noblest people you will ever meet." She didn't hesitate to grab his hand, attempt to pull him out and let Yasuho help by pulling at her waist. With a few heaves and pulls, they were finally able to pull him out.
"Great-great-grandma never mentioned Joestars were this heavy," grumbled (y/n) as Yasuho slipped out from underneath her, looking at her phone whose screen showed the birthmark as a transparent bubble. "(y-y/n)! Look, it's transparent!" (y/n) peered at the image on the screen, almost choking on her spit as she held the man in her arms; he had a stand. Then again, the notebook said her Joestar had the ability too. (y/n) turned back to the guy, scanning his...naked form. To both their surprise, they found...four.
"Wait a second- four balls?" she stammered in disbelief, tilting her head to look at the guy's face as Yasuho freaked out behind her, "...mind if I get a picture for reference?" She got no response from the man and decided that the image in her head would be more than enough for any art purposes whatsoever. Instead, she let herself look over his face; from his eyelashes back down to the star mark on his neck.
"Yasuhooo~ (y/nnnnn)~ What're ya two doing? Having fun without me?"
Both girls sighed as he looked at the three with wide eyes, not liking the way the man was laying in-between them. He huffed with an odd look on his face, reaching down to grab an alarmingly large rock. "What the fuck is going on here~ Indeed, what the fuck is going oooooon~ Go on explain yourselves if you can! I'm waiting~" he sang eerily as he stomped over slowly. "Joshu, I swear to god, don't start shit or we're going to have a problem," grumbled (y/n) as he staggered over to them.
He didn't seem to even acknowledge her warning and continued walking towards them, "p-pretty cocky thinking you can touch my Yasuho and (y/n)...piece of shit." Yasuho went wide-eyed and grabbed the other girl's arm in a panic. "He thinks we fooled around with him, (y/n)!" she screeched as (y/n) stared at the man in front of her with distaste. "One, just say sex. Two, he's pretty hot so why not let Joshu think what he wants," (y/n) stated, sneakily pulling out her stand in precaution.
Yasuho went red and moved in front of her and the naked man, making (y/n) freeze as Joshu grimaced and pushed her aside harshly. "Step aside, Yasuho!" (y/n) went cold as she watched Yasuho roll across the ground, dirt rising around her. "Yasuho—" She too was then thrown to the side before she could react, hitting the ground in the same way. Her head shot up to witness as Joshu held the rock higher above the man's head, ready to smash it down onto his head.
"Dammit, Joshu! Homogenic—"
She stopped as the man grabbed Joshu's arm and placed a fist under his neck, preventing Joshu from proceeding with his actions. Yet even still, Joshu had managed to get the upper hand just slightly enough to hit him in the back of the head, making Yasuho scream. "Here comes the finisher, asshole!" (y/n) panicked as her stand stood beside her, "fuck! what's the opposite of rock? No, earth! Uh...Air?" Before she could make her stand do anything, a bubble popped from his neck, floating over calmly towards Joshu's eyes.
"You're as good as dead, you worthless shit stain! Kill or be killed!" A sudden pop made Joshu stop in his tracks, eyes completely black. Or maybe it was that they were just gone completely. "Huh? My...eyes," stammered Joshu, turning his head back and forth wildly, "what the fuck...?! My eyes! Huh?!" (y/n) watched with her hand slapped over her mouth, letting her eyes trail over to the naked man who she believed may have been a Joestar.
She ignored the cries (and the vomiting) of Joshu, still staring at the very pretty man who had left Joshu and himself out cold on the dirt. She and Yasuho shakily stood up, looking at the aftermath of the bizarre fight. "This is yours, right?" asked the pink-haired girl, handing her the ragged notebook, "what was it that you were going to say earlier?" (y/n) crouched down beside the man, letting her fingers brush over the mark with a smile upon her lips.
┊ ✧. where a long-forgotten
motto of a family is found
once more to a girl four
generations later whose
current family is still very
much against it.
PLAYLIST .ೃ࿐
hyperballad; bjork
❝every morning i walk towards the edge and throw little things off
like car parts, bottles, and cutlery or whatever i find lying around.❞
kiss me; sixpence none the wiser
❝kiss me, out of the bearded barley nightly,
beside the green, green grass...❞
island in the sun; weezer
❝when you're on a golden sea, you don't need no memory;
just a place to call your own as we drift into the zone.❞
erase/rewind; the cardigans
❝i've changed my mind, i take it back -
erase and rewind 'cause i've been changing my mind.❞
ghost ship; blur
❝i remember flashbacks lighting up magic waves—
eight o'clock, saloon emptiness, handle it.❞
new perspective; panic! at the disco
❝stop there and let me correct it, i wanna live a life from a new perspective;
you come along because i love your face and i'll admire your expensive taste...❞
connection; elastica
❝another heart has made the trade:
forget it, forget it, forget it.❞
FOREWORD .ೃ࿐
˚ · . warnings¡!
HEAVY LANGUAGE USE, DIRTY JOKES
JOBIN HIGASHIKATA SIMPS
BLOOD, WOUNDS, GORE, DEATH
˚ · . notes¡!
JOSUK8, YASUHO, RAI,
JOSHU, KARERA, KEI
X FEM! READER
┊ ✧. mc is 20; josuk8, yasuho,
and joshu are all 19; rai is
aged down to 23; karera and
kei have their canon ages
✧. references to my palomino
will be scattered all through
this fic
✧. similarly, the mc will be related
to two pre-existing characters
so unlike the rest of the jojo fic
series, this fic will not have the
(l/n) option (palomino has this
too for the same reason)
✧. i might include karera and kei
as a part of the love interests too
but lmk what y'all want heehee
"WHAT DO you mean, "I don’t know"?!” Fugo yelled from Narancia’s side, far too close to shoving a pencil in the other boy’s cheek for comfort. “I mean I don’t know! Why the hell do I need to know multiplication anyways?!” screeched Narancia while pulling out a pocket knife and stabbing it into the worksheet. As the two boys bickered, you hummed a small tune and worked on your newest concoction: orangeade.
While you poured the orange juice and lemon juice into a pitcher filled with water and sugar, you let their yelling fill in for the parts of the song you didn’t remember and began to stir. Once finished, you poured the liquid into three separate cups filled with ice and topped it off with some basil and an orange slice, grinning proudly just at how the cups looked. The fighting was pure background noise as you approached the coffee table the two boys sat at with the juice.
“Maybe Narancia just needs a break,” you suggested calmly while setting the cups down, just for Fugo to leap from the couch in a rage. “Narancia needs a break?! Huh?! If anything I need a break!” Fugo said with a grimace while snatching a cup off the table as you raised a brow. “Teaching him can’t be that bad.” Fugo almost did a spit-take while Narancia glared and let out a huff that blew up his fringe.
“I- Y’know what- you take him for an hour and tell me how it goes!”
You blinked owlishly after Fugo who grumbled as he left the living room, taking harsh sips of his juice while doing so. You held back a short laugh until he was completely out of sight before turning to face a frustrated Narancia. “Stupid Fugo,” he mumbled while fiddling with the rim of the glass and the orange slice that rested on it, “he’s always so angry for no reason! It’s not my fault math is hard!” You smiled and ruffled his hair, taking a seat beside him.
“Well then, let’s take a look.”
Narancia’s face burned as you rested against his side, pointing out an equation in the workbook Fugo had just been screaming at him for. “So…sixteen times fifty-five,” you began as Narancia tried his best not to let his heart explode over your closeness. It wasn’t a secret to the gang that he had started crushing on you after the Diavolo mission but you were the epitome of oblivious to these things— or at least that’s what everyone thought. Only Trish knew, but you were very much the opposite of oblivious and well-aware of Narancia’s feelings for you (which were also reciprocated).
“Nara?”— Oh did Narancia’s poor heart explode when you called him by that nickname— “what’s wrong?” Albeit actually being over-the-moon by you snuggling up to him, he was anything but happy about doing math. “I just- I don’t wanna do it!” he whined while you took a sip from your glass of orangeade. You leaned back against the bottom of the couch, humming softly; “How about this? If you get it right, I’ll give you a surprise.” Narancia’s eyes lit up at your incentive.
“What kind?!” he beamed as you held back a laugh behind your hand. “It’s a surprise, dumbass.” Narancia gave a boisterous laugh before folding over and furiously writing on the paper. “Got it!” When he held up the paper, you were met with the number twenty-eight scratchily written on the page. You raised a brow and you could feel Narancia sulk beside her. “Hm, well, how’d you get your answer?” Narancia groaned and threw his head back, looking at you while tilting his head to the side.
“I dunno… the answer is two eights and a zero but zero doesn’t mean anything so it’s two eights.” You raised a brow before doing your own math, finding that it was in fact two eights and a zero: 880. Your eyes widened, and you smiled cheekily at him, sending the poor boy’s heart surging with ears aflame. “W-Why’re you looking at me like that?! Y-You got a problem?” You grinned and rested your head back against the couch like he was, resting it so close to his head that you could feel his shuddering breaths.
“You got it right…kind of. Two eights and a zero would be 880,” you grinned, making Narancia smile in turn, “but it's close enough so I say you get the prize anyway.” As you leaned in, Narancia gasped, staring straight ahead until your noses were touching. “Can I kiss you?” Narancia’s head felt like it was doing cartwheels as he quickly shook his head, a shiver running down his spine at your low laugh and smile. As your eyes fluttered shut, he shut his eyes tightly, cheeks blowing up as he puckered his lips.
When your lips found his, he felt as though he had died and come back, bringing his shaking hands behind your head to pull you closer as his cheeks deflated. He could almost taste the lingering flavor of orangeade as he tried to deepen the kiss, only for you to place your hands gently on his shoulders and push him away. Your flushed features made a surge of pride rush through him. As he swooped in for another peck, you put a finger on his lips.
He blinked at you, lips still very puckered and cheeks very red. “If you get another question right, we can do that again.” Before another word could leave your mouth, Narancia was straight back to the paper, a goofy smile on his lips that reached his crimson cheeks. You smiled in turn, leaning against the palm of your hand.
areudirty
prguitarman
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2087
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