#I wore fucking CAT EARS to class!!! his friend constantly told me that he liked me and it didn’t fucking register that he wasn’t joking!!!

[totsandnuggsrebloggs]

@ the aroace community

Girl help. How do we survive?

[willowbird]

For the prompt game — could you do AU 1, trope 8, location 2 for Andreil? I always love reading these, thanks for sharing!

Grad School, return of the childhood best friend, inside Andrew's closet!!! Thank you so much for sending in the ask I'm glad you're enjoying the little ficlets and I hope you like this one too!

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Tall people were a curse. A blight on all of society. Civilization would undoubtedly crumble under the obnoxious stomping of their huge feet and the polar ice caps would melt at least in part due to the heat from their big fat heads.

Also, all the tall fuckers in Andrew's cohort were constantly putting things in places Andrew couldn't reach, especially when it came to the supply closet off of the office the group of them communally used. It had gotten to the point that Andrew had taken full command of the ordering and organization of all their supplies. Last month he had even gone so far as to print out and laminate a full-color sign for the closet that read: NO ONE ABOVE 5'3 PERMITTED. SEE ANDREW J MINYARD FOR ALL SUPPLY RETRIEVAL.

The only reason he'd given the extra few inches at all was because Robin, the undergrad TA that assisted in one of his classes, sometimes helped him out and she was a whole three inches taller than him. It was enough of a restriction that it barred the rest of his cohort from intruding, though, as even Renee was a solid 5'8.

Or at least, it should have been an effective restriction. Andrew had thought the rest of his team could read well enough to get the goddamn message. Then he showed up this morning and the fucking closet door was open and where was the box of printer ink he'd ordered last week?

That's right, on the top fucking shelf.

When Andrew figured out which idiotic fucking beanpole had decided to pull this shit with him there was going to be hell to pay. He would raid his cat's litter box for ammunition if he had to.

For the moment, though, he needed to replace the ink in both printers. Which was why he was balancing precariously on the arms of the only non-rolly chair on the goddamn floor, straining to reach the box of ink and quietly promising to take an extra dose of revenge out of each and every person over 5'3 if he fell.

Which he almost did when a sharp knock suddenly echoed a bit too loud from directly behind him.

"Jesus fuck what is wrong with y--" Andrew cut off abruptly as he looked over his shoulder to see who had dared come up behind him at a time like this. He blinked, then he fully closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. When the man before him was still fucking there, Andrew twisted slightly and jumped down, letting his ass hit the seat as he overbalanced on the landing.

"Um... hi."

It had been almost ten years since Andrew had heard that voice. Ten years. In that time Neil had gone from being a scrawny, anxious kid to... well...

Vivid blue eyes stared at him steadily, winged with eyeliner that only made them brighter. His dark russet-auburn hair was shaved close to his head on the sides but long enough on the top that he'd gathered it back in a loose bun, which only emphasized the perfect angles of his face and the soft give of his mouth, the way his chin carved down to a point as if to frame it, drawing the eye.

"Andrew? I didn't mean to surprise you. Well, I did, that's why I didn't tell you I was coming. I didn't mean to almost make you fall off a chair though..."

Neil clicked a tongue-piercing against his teeth. It flashed silver for a moment, matching the two bars that bisected his left eyebrow. Purple studs and a line of tiny hoops trailed up each ear.

Andrew stared, then he did the only rational thing and reached forward, grabbing the doorknob and slamming it shut with himself inside the closet.

His heart was fucking pounding, and he knew his face was flushed because, look. Look. Neil Josten at fourteen years old had been a scrawny kid with big ears and a chipped tooth that was always covered in bruises and Andrew had been so fucking in love with him. All he ever wanted to do as a baby gay was kiss Neil Josten. Thought about it all the time. But that had been off the table because Neil was his best friend and probably asexual and also literally trying to survive. When Neil moved to the other side of the fucking planet to be with his uncle, Andrew had told himself that this was a good thing because 1) Neil would be safe and 2) if there was distance between them then Andrew could finally get over him.

Over the last ten years they'd exchanged regular letters, but because Neil was a fucking technophobe and there may or may not have been an actual hit from actual hitmen and gangsters and shit on him over here in the states - they hadn't spoken on the phone and no pictures had been shared.

And now here was Neil. Almost twenty-four and... so so fucking hot.

There was a soft knock on the door, followed by a quiet, anxious, "Andrew..?" that sounded a lot more like the Neil Andrew remembered.

"Um... should I go? I'm sorry... I thought... I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry. I'll go..."

"No!" The word escaped him before he had time to really think about it. He was pretty sure his voice cracked a little in his desperation too. Shit. Andrew cleared his throat and tried again. "Just... wait. I.. need to get ink."

"Okay."

Andrew did his best not to read into the mystery in Neil's tone. Instead, he thanked the closet gods and carefully climbed back up onto the chair. Another couple of minutes later he had the ink he needed and was facing a coming out he really never anticipated having to go through. Coming out of the closet to your best friend was one thing. Coming out of the literal, actual closet you have shut yourself in to reunite with your super hot best friend that you've been in love with for over a decade at this point was quite another.

Ripping the band-aid off was really the only way to go, so Andrew took a deep breath, put his free hand on the knob, and opened the door.

Neil had repositioned himself and was now leaning against the nearest desk. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows exposing strong forearms decorated with swirls of dark ink. Three fingers on each hand bore rings (not the ring fingers, not that Andrew was specifically looking) and his nails were painted a dark, glossy gray. Around one wrist was a frayed bracelet that perfectly matched the one Andrew also wore on the same wrist.

As soon as Neil saw him, he lit up. A smile on his face that shined in his eyes, even if there was a slight hesitance to it - understandable considering Andrew had just.. you know... shut himself in a closet after seeing him.

"Hey... Sorry again, about that. I know you don't like to be startled. I just... I got excited."

Andrew swallowed, a tough feat with a throat so dry. Somehow, he managed a snort. "Like a puppy. Should I be worried about my floors, Josten?"

"I dunno, you gonna scratch me behind the ears?" Neil shot back, and the smirk that accompanied it was fucking devastating. That's is, Andrew gave up. He lost. Dead, he was dead. There was no way he was getting out of this one.

Andrew did the only thing he could do to keep himself from grabbing the little bastard and kissing him senseless, which was ask the big question hanging in the room between them.

"How are you here, Neil? I thought you'd never be able to come back to American soil."

Neil rubbed the back of his neck, like he was thinking of the best way to explain it. After a moment he said, "Uncle Stuart still doesn't think it's a great idea - but there's no price on my head anymore. As of last month we cleared out the last of... well, let's just call them the old bad guys. There are new bad guys, but they don't really care about me."

It took a moment for that to fully sink in. Andrew set down the ink on the desk and moved to stand directly in front of Neil. When Neil stood up straight, they were almost exactly the same height - Neil only really had a few inches on him. At least he hadn't been lying to make him feel better when he'd told him in a letter a few years back that he'd topped out at 5'3.

"So? Don't you have a whole new life over in jolly old England now? Friends and family who don't regularly try to kill you? Why come back at all?"

He knew why, but he wanted - he needed - to hear him say it.

"Yeah, but... they aren't you."

"Me."

"Yeah, Andrew. You."

Their eyes met. Something in Andrew's chest snapped like an overworked rubber band stretched too taut and all the carefully sequestered feelings it had been keeping at bay suddenly sprang forth like a tidal wave. They rushed through him, filling him up, buoying him until he probably could have reached the top shelf of that goddamn closet without the chair.

"I hate you," Andrew ground out. And Neil smiled, because he knew it wasn't true.

"I missed you, Andrew. I missed you so fucking much."

"Shut up, stupid." Andrew forced himself to take a deep breath, then he snatched up Neil's hand and started dragging him out of the office. "Come on. We're getting ice cream."

Neil laughed and squeezed his hand. "Some things never change."

No, Andrew thought, some things never do.

[ecto-american]

October Nights C2

Ectober fanfiction || Day One || On AO3

Summary: Danny may have died, but he is certainly not gone. And he refuses to be forgotten.

Day 2: Tarot & Stalker

"Sam, you have to go to school. This isn't optional, get up. You can't keep laying in bed all day. I know it's difficult, but you can't live your life forever in your room."

Her mom's words rattled in her empty mind as she sat shotgun in Tucker's Jeep. Physically, she felt a bit better. After finally taking a long hot shower, washing her hair and dressing in all black on black, she had a feeling of being refreshed. She wore no makeup, allowing for her dark circles from sleepless nights thinking about him.

They used to fly to school together. The Phantom Express, she'd call it. Danny always held onto her tightly, hugging her close. Despite being a ghost, he always felt so warm. He always made her feel so safe that high in the air.

"Hey Sam, were you wanting to join us after school at the gym? Or Nasty Burger? You could probably just sit in the massage chairs if nothing else."

Sam glanced up at Tucker. Ever since their freshman year, he had grown too. Now supporting a short beard and muscles of his own, Sam admitted that her friend grew up handsome as he now stood as the tallest of the trio-the ex-trio. Two years ago they all got gym memberships and went together, to stay in better ghost hunting shape. Their new routine had become the gym before the Nasty Burger, now a reward for the exercise.

"...I should," Sam said quietly as she pressed her forehead to the cold window, staring as they passed FentonWorks. She'd never be Sam Fenton now. "I need to get out. Do things. Continue on, but I just." She felt hot tears beginning to form. She was glad she opted for no makeup.

"I know, Sam," Tucker said quietly. She felt his hand reach out and grab her shoulder to squeeze comfortingly. "Please come to the gym with us and eat. If you can't do it, I'll just take you home early. I'm just worried, and I know Paulina's been worried about you too."

"Yeah, she's been texting me," Sam sighed. She stared out at the street as the warmth of orange, red and yellow were decorating the streets as the headlights shined on it. It was still dark out, but she could see that leaves were everywhere, sticking to buildings and parked cars. Slight blurs of colored jackets as people prepared for the sweater weather, but the people out at this hour were sparse. Nobody really walked to school this time of year anymore, more people relied on the bus or somebody to drive them.

A flash of a figure caught her eye as they drove past. A familiar red jacket and purple backpack worn by a figure with snow white hair. A black jumpsuit, and piercing red eyes that she could only point out due to the glowing shine. They stared her down. She couldn't look away, swallowing nervously.

"Did you see that?" Sam questioned, glancing to Tucker. Tucker jerked his head around, curiously.

"See what?" he asked. Sam shook her head, leaning back in her seat.

"Nothing, just this kid that, uh...yeah."

Tucker could guess her thoughts, and he gave a small grimace as he looked forward. They sat in silence as he slowed down for a red light, bringing the car to a gentle stop. Sam heard Tucker cough and shift in his seat, sniffling a bit. She glanced over to him to see the faint reflection of a tear running down his cheek.

"...I miss him, Sam," he eventually whispered. Sam's words got caught in her throat, and she simply made a pitiful noise of acknowledgement. The light turned green, and Tucker continued one. "I miss him so much."

Sam's breath came out ragged for a moment as she tried to compose herself, stop herself from crying. There was nothing she wanted more than to tell Tucker to please just turn around and drop her off at home. She couldn't do today. How was she supposed to sit in English class when Danny wasn't going to be sitting behind her, idly playing with or braiding her hair? Where was she going to put her feet up during lunch when Danny's lap was now gone? Who was going to fly her home? The reality of none of this happening today, tomorrow, next week, next month, ever, continued hitting Sam like a battering ram.

"I wanna go home," Sam finally whimpered softly. Tucker's hand reached out for hers, and she took it, squeezing it. He held hers tightly.

"We'll get through it," he promised her. "Just gotta take it day by day."

"What if I can't?" she asked.

"Then you take it hour by hour," he replied.

A rush of guilt flooded her. She knew Tucker was just trying to be strong for her. He and Danny were best friends before Sam even entered the picture. This hurt him too. How selfish of her to constantly stay locked up in her room, mourning her boyfriend when her best friend was also mourning his childhood bestie.

"We can do it," she forced herself to say. She was very skeptical of this.

Tucker let go of her hand to grasp the steering wheel, flicking his turn signal on. He slowed, glancing to assure he was clear to turn into the Casper High parking lot. Sam stared out her window as Tucker turned, freezing as she saw the headlights briefly illuminate a figure. Only a brief glance, but she still caught the red and purple with white. Her heart froze, and she immediately shifted in her seat to turn to look through the back window, but there was nobody lit up in the taillights.

"Whatcha looking for?" Tucker questioned. Sam shook her head, sighing a bit as she settled back into her seat.

"I...I thought I saw a cat," she lied. Tucker frowned, but he didn't comment.

He pulled into a free parking space, and Sam saw the small crowd of students trickling in. After he parked, the duo undid their seatbelts and gathered their things. The cold air hit Sam as she opened the door, and she shivered. She adjusted her jacket, zipping it up as she slipped her backpack on. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a unique anxiety filled her, a feeling of uneasiness.

She looked around, but spotted nothing out of the ordinary. Goosebumps still rose all over her arms, and she slipped her hands under her sleeves to rub at them. Sam just must be cold. It was nearly freezing outside.

"Sam, you coming?" Tucker called out to her, and she immediately turned to him. He had taken a few steps towards school, and she hurriedly caught up to him.

"Yeah, I'm just...kinda out of it," she confessed. Tucker wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her as they began to walk in step together.

"Hour by hour," he reminded her. Having Tucker nearby helped ease some of her anxiety, but there was still something amiss. Even as they entered the school, both sighing in relief as the school had an instant heat to combat the cold October air, Sam could still feel...something. Being watched.

She looked over her shoulder, trying to find anything. Nothing seemed to be there but the normal crowd of students. Her eyes scanned them, trying to spy one that was staring at her, but she couldn't find one. It only made her feel more uneasy, and she leaned more into Tucker as they stopped by their lockers.

Sam stared at the locker. She missed Danny opening her locker for her, with a flick of an intangible finger. Tucker's locker closed, and she felt him pat her back.

"I'll see you in third period," he told her, and she could only numbly nod, glancing after him only for a moment as he disappeared.

A deep sigh escaped her as a shiver went up her spine. Urgency forced her heart to race with anxiety, and she looked around for the cause. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing staring at her. Despite feeling somebody's eyes locking onto her with an intense gaze. Her fingers began to fumble with the lock combination, turning it. Ah, fuck. Missed it. Had to restart.

Nervous sweat began to collect on her forehead as she knew an intense gaze was turning into a staredown. She fumbled to turn the lock combination correctly. God damn it, she had to restart. Her fingers were beginning to shake as she tried to hurriedly do it again, a panic beginning to settle in as she rapidly turned the lock, hoping that approximation would get her locker open.

Sam could swear that she could hear the familiar sound of somebody breathing right next to her. Right into her ear, despite nothing touching her to indicate a person was there and standing so close. Even the warm breath was tickling her ear, and she wanted to cry. Tears of fright began to collect as she frantically tried a final time. It didn't work again, and her hand was visibly shaking hard.

"Hey, let me," a gentle voice said, and Sam let out a panicky gasp. She saw Paulina standing near her, but nowhere near where the breathing was. Paulina also stood about her height, nowhere able to spook her like that.

The girl looked concerned for her, and Sam surrendered her shaking hand to tuck into herself. She crossed her arms and shivered, feeling one of the beads of sweat drip down her forehead. Paulina opened her locker on the first time, standing off to the side.

"You okay?" Paulina questioned, cocking her head slightly. Sam shook her head no, but she didn't speak. She simply stepped forward, sliding her backpack off and beginning to exchange it out. "Sam, what's going on?" Sam's throat felt so dry, and despite the breath being gone, she still felt so watched.

"I-I-I dunno," she half-lied. She sniffled hard, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand.

Sam just wanted the day to be over with, and she stared at her schoolbooks. She forced as many as she could into the backpack to prevent having to be back in at the locker again, but her spider backpack was fairly small. She'd have to carry most of them. But maybe if she just took all of her books home, her mom would let her get away with just being home all semester. Do all of her work there, and have Tucker or Paulina bring it to school.

"Are you leaving?" Paulina asked, glancing into her locker as Sam began to hurriedly take everything she could out. Sam shrugged, sniffling more. The feeling of being watched had died down a bit. Paulina being there, somebody she knew, just being around made her feel better, but paranoia was still at the back of her mind.

"I just wanna go home," Sam managed to croak out.

Paulina seemed to understand, at least somewhat anyway, and she opened her arms for her. Sam immediately accepted the hug, sniffling harder. Once Sam pulled away, Paulina reached into her purse to give her a travel pack of tissues. She accepted it and wiped her eyes before blowing her nose.

"Come on," Paulina told her. The girl dug through her purse until she produced a reusable canvas bag. Like many girls at the school, Paulina opted to just use her oversized purse as a bag, relying on the reusable canvas bag for if she had to lug home a bunch of books. Paulina shook the bag a bit, forcing it to unfold before holding it open for her.

"Thank you," Sam replied quietly.

She began to shove the rest of the books into the canvas bag as her friend patiently held it open for her. Paulina said nothing, simply watching as the goth also began to empty her locker of it's accessories. Pictures, her locker mirror, extra pencil bag, a spare set of clothes. Paulina soon had rested the bag on the floor due to the weight, and Sam folded her shirt to squeeze into the bag.

"Don't forget that," Paulina spoke up, nodding at the back of the locker. Sam stood up, peering into the locker, and she felt her heart race.

It was a tarot card, pressed flat against the back of the locker Sam had tarot cards, but she had never brought them to school before. Neither Danny nor Tucker ever messed with them either, so where…

Sam frowned, reaching into the locker to grab the tarot card. To her surprise, it was stuck. She had to use a nail at the sides to pry the beginning parts of it off, and she soon was able to pull it off. Sam flipped it over to see what made it stuck. It was a sticky green substance. Confused, she sniffed it, only to be hit with an oh-too-familiar scent. Ectoplasm.

She nervously glanced around, but saw nothing. But of course...should she really expect to see a stalker that could turn invisible.

"That's a tarot card, right?" Paulina asked, glancing curiously at it. "Are you missing one from your deck?" Sam shook her head no, and she turned around to see which card it was.

And it made her numb. The Hanged Man card.

Rationally, she knew it wasn't a sign that she was going to die. But that card...it represented sacrifice. It could be read as sacrificing so much, potentially everything, only to receive nothing in return. It always felt like a very bitter card to her whenever she read it. A card that meant you giving your all, only to get nothing in return, for nothing to go according to plan. For ultimately, failure to happen.

She bit her lower up, and she shoved it into her spider backpack. Sam forced a smile to Paulina as she shut her locker.

"Thank you. I'll return the bag as soon as possible," she replied. She slipped her bag onto her back, picking up the canvas bag. It felt heavy, and she knew walking home was going to be horrible.

Paulina shot her an understanding smile.

"Please come over later," she requested. "We'll make some food and hang, it'll be good. I know school's a bit much, but I don't want you to rot away in your room. Just you and me." That did sound a bit appealing...While Sam loved Tucker, most of her memories with Tucker also included…

Maybe a hangout with Paulina was just what she needed.

"I'll call you," she promised. Paulina beamed, and she gave her another half-hug before bidding her goodbye.

Sam shifted to carry the bag with both hands, heading towards the front doors of the school. The second she stepped outside, she breathed in the fall air. It was strangely comforting, but the cold air brought on another feeling. An overwhelming fear came back in a gut punch.

Her head shot from side to side, trying to spy anything in the darkness. Shadows seemed to morph into monsters, their constantly growing and looming forms fueled by her paranoid mind. The typical noises of fall, the wind rustling through the trees and leaves blowing across the ground were now masking any sounds of somebody stalking around. No cars passing, no distant headlights only cemented how completely alone she was right now. Tears began to sting her eyes, and she stood up straight.

She fought ghosts for years. She could manage a measly walk home. This wasn't even a new walk. Sam literally walked this route hundreds of times.

Sam went down the steps of the school, each footprint softly echoing in the now silent streets. It only added to her nerves, expecting a second set of footprints to suddenly appear. She looked straight ahead, only to stop dead in her tracks.

Across the street, on the other side just underneath a lamppost, stood an unmoving figure. Even at a distance, she could recognize a red jacket and white hair. His hand, a white gloved one, was resting on the strap of a familiar purple backpack. There was no more blood or ectoplasm covering his jumpsuit. He had cleaned up since last night.

Without any doubt in her mind, Sam knew, she just knew, that this figure was absolutely fixated on her. Her heart pounded, and she took a step to the side as she tried to back up. The figure's head subtly moved to follow her movements.

Oh hell no. Panic overtook anything, and she immediately turned to run up the stairs and back into the school. With tears freely streaming down her cheeks, she dug around her pockets for her phone. She dialed her mom's number, and the second her mom answered, Sam began to openly cry.

"Mom, please," she begged. "I wanna go home. Can you come get me?"

Pamela was quiet for a moment, but thankfully, she seemed to sense Sam's desperation. Sam looked out the window. The figure had crossed the street and was staring at her. Now closer, she saw those red eyes continuing to stare at her. Not malicious. Not welcoming. Just...watching.

"Alright. I'll send your dad to come get you."

[holy-hyuck]

High School Reunion

Asking your roommate, Seokjin, to be your fake boyfriend for a high school reunion is only good in theory - or is it?

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Like, a few swear words towards the end.

"Will you be my date?" you blurted out as soon as you saw Seokjin enter the house. His arms were filled with groceries, as he was usually the one making the two of you dinner, evidently just coming from a trip to the shop. He nearly dropped the bags, thankfully supporting them on his knee. You rushed in his direction, taking two of the bags and placing them on the counter in the kitchen.

Whilst he was gone shopping, you got a letter from your high school, reminding you of the reunion that would happen this weekend. The letter, of course, arrived late, so in reality, the reunion was tomorrow.

When your friend, the only one you've stayed in touch with after high school, called you this morning, he demanded you do actually attend. It was easy for him to say, as his life, even though rocky at the beginning, has taken a great turn. He now has a dog, a cat, a career in the dance industry, and a boyfriend who looks like a Gucci model.

What do you have? A job as a receptionist in a dental practice, where you have to deal with children screaming because of toothaches, and no boyfriend in a year.

You guess you could blame yourself. You were constantly busy; between the job, working on the side as a delivery person to save up for a better car and going back to painting, a hobby long-forgotten in your hectic life. Getting a roommate was Jimin's idea, actually, after he heard you wanted to save up money, and since he was friends with Seokjin - who needed a new place to stay - he gave you his number.

"I'm sorry...?" Jin started, clearing his throat.

"I kinda...have a high school reunion tomorrow and I don't want people to know I haven't gotten anywhere in life?" you rushed, scratching your head. "Does it seem weird? We'd only be going as friends but..." you trailed off, unsure of how to put it in words.

"Wait- You want me to go as your boyfriend?"

"A fake one!" you added in, just to make sure he knew. You realised you sounded slightly ridiculous, and told him with a short notice too. Plus, you were only good friends, but perhaps not good enough for him to do you this favour. He could also feel extremely awkward because you've only met a few months ago and you never even thought of dating him and-

"Sure," he replied, cutting off your racing thoughts.

"Re-really? Like, actually really? Are you-are you sure?"

"Do you want me to say no?" he asked, amusement clear in his voice.

"No!" you exclaimed, your hands shooting up in front of you. "I mean, no, I'd appreciate if you didn't say no." You gave him a sheepish smile, bolting to your room to text Jimin you were coming - leaving out the fact of who you were coming with.

You really weren't trying to impress anyone, you thought at first. That's why you opted for something along the lines of your usual attire; a white tank top, black jeans, laced boots and a bomber jacket. Jin wore a black turtleneck and a beige trenchcoat. In reality, you knew that whatever he'd decide to wear would look good on him, as it was him that was the best-looking part.

The two of you just exited the taxi, paying the driver and you spotted Jimin and Taehyung standing by the entrance. They both looked really good; but then again, when didn't they. You said hi to each other and Jimin pulled you aside for a moment, leaving Seokjin and Taehyung to talk with each other.

"You brought Jin? What the hell, (y/n)?" Jimin accused as soon as you were out of earshot.

"What's so wrong about that?" You pouted.

"That it's going to look like he's your boyfriend."

"And?"

"And he isn't. You can't play it off as being 'just friends'. Besides, probably half of the single people in there will try and flirt with him. It happens nearly every time I'm with him; men, women, teenagers who shouldn't know about the things they're talking about, you name it. You'll have to play jealous, besides, he looks too much like a model to be your boy-" he cut himself off, seeing how hurt the unfinished sentence made you feel.

It was true, though. He looked like a model, and yeah, so did Taehyung; except Jimin was attractive too, so the two of them just looked like the perfect couple. You were very well aware that with Jin's looks, his standards must have been pretty high.

And maybe you didn't think you were unattractive but compared to Jin... You knew he would never date someone like you. And you never thought about it either.

But Jimin - being your best friend - bringing it to light just hurt.

"I didn't mean it like that, (y/n)-"

"Geez, Jimin, I'm not gonna cry over it," you said, even though if you could just go the bathroom, you were sure a few tears would escape your eyes. "And I'm sorry I won't be honest out there, okay? But my life is probably the most ordinary thing there can be, you know? I wake up nearly every day at the same time, eat breakfast, go to work, come back, eat dinner with Jin, go to sleep. I don't have a job I like, I don't live the way I always wanted, I don't have anyone who loves me-" you stopped, sensing the tears that were about to fall, and you looked up to stop them, then back into Jimin's apologetic chocolate eyes, "-just let me have a perfect life for this night, okay? I'll go back to being a loser once this night is over."

Jimin gave you a hug, saying "of course" with a few apologies still rolling off his tongue, then the two of you made your way back to the two model-like men.

If Seokjin noticed your sad eyes and disappointed expression, he didn't let on, but Jimin definitely noticed the worried look he gave you. Jin placed a hand on your back, something you didn't think too much of, and led you inside.

Jin and Taehyung, although never attending this particular high school, were the sweethearts of this reunion. Be it their angelic looks, their charisma, or their extremely likeable personalities, but they made quite the impression on everyone there.

"So..." started one of your old classmates; the one who used to be a class president. "How are you doing?" she asked.

You were about to open your mouth to speak but another classmate cut you off.

"What she means is; who is that Greek god you came in with? Is he your boyfriend?" She looked back, eyeing Jin, who was chatting with Jimin. When he saw you looking, he raised his glass and gave you a smile. "He is, isn't he?"

You put your hair behind your ear, looking down to hide your grin, and nodded your head. You avoided looking up until you were sure the blush from your cheeks was gone; though maybe you were just afraid that you'd get caught in a lie.

And so that's how the night went. You lied. You lied Seokjin was your boyfriend; you lied about how much you loved him; you lied about the future you were hoping for with him.

You lied so much that when the night rolled to an end, you felt disgusted with the words that fell from your mouth each time it opened.

But everything snapped when one of your classmates was leaving with her boyfriend by her side. Seokjin's arm was draped over your shoulder, your back leaning against his chest, and at one point you swore you could feel his heartbeat quicken. You thought he would be a lot more uncomfortable during the event, but he proved to be at ease; about a thousand times more than you were.

"It was great seeing you today. Both of you," your classmate said, giving you a smile, and you knew that that sentence was probably on repeat for every person she's met today.

"You too," Jin said, extending his hand out, shaking it with her boyfriend's, before you could say anything.

Your classmate let go of her boyfriend's waist and hugged you. You were about to let go when she whispered in your ear, "I never thought you could score someone like Seokjin. Maybe you have more of it than you did back in high school."

She leaned back, gave both of you a wave, and - intertwining her hand with her boyfriend's - walked away.

This is what you wanted to avoid. Her. You remembered your first love, her brother, and how continuously she would remind you he was out of your league, but how you could try anyway. It wasn't until you heard him talking about his ideal type that you realised, it wasn't you. And all she really did was tell you "I told you so", because being comforting was not her thing.

This is how you imagined this reunion after you left high school; proving her how wrong she was, and that you could be with someone out of your league, that you could be somebody else's type.

Except none of it was real, and she was right after all. 

Forty minutes left until everyone would start leaving the reunion, and here you were, with a glass of red wine, out on the balcony, alone. You placed the glass against your cheek as you heard the balcony doors slide open, then close again.

You looked up at Seokjin, unable to help the small smile on your lips. "Having a good night?" you asked half-heartedly.

"Not if you're not," he replied, sitting down when you gave him a confused look. From where you were standing, you could only look down at his hooded eyes. He looked tired, but so did you; at least that you had in common.

"Then yours must be fucking crap," you said with a dry laugh.

"Why, what's happening?" When he looked into your eyes, they held sincerity. His gaze proved to be too intense because you looked down, tracing your finger on the ridge of the thin glass.

"I think I'm gonna leave early. I'm not having nearly as much fun as I'd hoped for."

"Please don't," he said, then realised what he said. "I mean," He scratched his nose in a cute manner; way too cute for a guy in mid-20s. "Just... It's not going to be fun if you're not here, you know. You brought your incredibly handsome boyfriend to show off, so what are we waiting for?"

You laughed, leaning on the railing, nearly dropping your glass, and you could hear Jin's laugh too. He was clearly pleased with himself for lighting up your face with a smile.

When you were done, you looked over at him and noticed him observing you with a smile of his own. You tapped on the glass with your finger, then placed it behind you on a wider part of the railing so it wouldn't fall.

"Sorry for dragging you into this," you told him.

"You don't have to-"

"No, I know. It' just... Since you're my boyfriend, I should be showing you off. That's kinda the point of bringing you here," you said absentmindedly and Jin's face fell. "Shit, I mean... I fucked this up, didn't I?" You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands. "It's just better if I go there and tell people that we're not together. I bet you could score someone tonight, besides...lying makes me feel bad."

You played with the ring on your finger, pushing yourself off the structure behind you but Jin stood up in a rush, grabbing your arm.

"I can't believe I let you feel so bad about something I've been wanting for weeks now," he told you.

"Huh?"

"I do wish you would have asked it for real, I really do. But honestly...even being your fake boyfriend is enough. I like it." He looked you in the eye. "I like you. So don't feel bad about this."

He gave you the sweetest smile, then brushed a nonexistent strand of hair behind your ear. "When I first moved in, I felt so foreign in the house, and in the town. Jimin assured me you were nice but I only ever had his words. But you are the best roommate I could ask for, and I've always been so fascinated by you, by the way you are. There's something about you, you know? You're just you but that's honestly more than enough."

You let out a breath, bouncing up and down on your tiptoes, unsure of what you wanted. Thankfully, Jin beat you to it.

He brought his hand under your chin and brought his lips up to yours. He gave you a prolonged peck, but his grin - stretching farther and farther - made the time between you cut short.

He pulled away eventually, and you almost whined, wanting to feel his lips on your for just a second longer. In fact, you could stay like that for the rest of the evening. It was far better than whatever was happening outside.

"You're right. Let's go back home."

Speechless for a second, you raised your eyebrow and smirked. "And what do you have in mind?”

"It's still not too late to grab a dinner, is it? What do you think?"

"I think I'd like that a lot," you replied, your hand somehow finding its way into his. The glass of wine forgotten, the two of you made your way into the building and towards the exit.

"Wait-" You stopped in your tracks, searching the crowd. "Where's Jimin and Tae?"

As your eyes kept searching, they nearly rolled at the back of your head when you saw them making out on a couch.

"I swear they're not usually like this," you whispered to Jin.

"Should we wait for them?" he asked, half-laughing.

"No," you said, looking at him. "It's our night."

And grabbing his hand again, you slipped out of the party unnoticed.

[t0ngue-tech]

All Yours | Two

“Intimacy.

That’s what it was; the word that described everything. You noticed that things had become a little more intimate. A part of you craved for that intimacy but the other part of you was utterly terrified.”

↠ dust of fluff. angst. universityAU ↞

word count: 4.4k

↠ series: 1 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | ↞    

“You spent the night with Yoongi?!”

You rubbed your temples for relief. Something inside told you to not mention anything to Jin, but he just so happen to be there when you told Hani about it. All you said to her was that Yoongi stayed over last night and Jin chimed in shocked as ever.

“Jin. Seriously. Come to your senses.” You sighed.

“I know, I know. I just wanted to see your reaction.” Jin laughed to himself and walked towards the back. Hani laughed as well, apologizing for his behavior.

“So, where is Yoongi? Class?” Hani asked.

You took a peek at your cellphone that was in your apron pocket. It was a little after two which meant Yoongi had just finished his last afternoon class for the day. You had already clocked out, but you stayed for a while to help Jin out while waiting for your shopping companion.

“He should be on his way. How about you? When are you two leaving for your date?” You leaned on the counter and drummed your fingers against the granite.

“I’m waiting for handsome over there to finish.” Hani nodded her head towards Jin who just tripped over a box sugar packets. “He’s clocking out at 2:30.”

“Handsome? Are you sure, Hani?” You scrunch your face and received a light shove from the boy you slightly insulted.

“I’ll have you know, y/n, your life will become ten times more better if you learn accept how handsome I am.” Jin ran a hand through his hair as an attempt to show off his charm, but you easily brushed it off, unphased.

“There’s the man of the hour—hi, Yoongi.” Hani greeted the blond haired fellow who dragged his feet inside the cafe. Yoongi raised a hand and took a seat next to hani. He folded his arms on the counter and buried his face letting out a dreaded sigh.

“You sound happy.” Jin said.

“Far from it.” Yoongi mumbled lifting his head. “I haven’t seen Seolhyun all day, she’s blowing off my texts and calls, but one of her friends said that she had an appointment in the Writing Workshop Department at one.”

Hani shot you a glance and you raised your eyebrows, obviously not surprised. The atmosphere got a bit awkward, but thankfully Yoongi broke the ice.

“You ready to go? Or do we need to head to your dorm first?”

“I’m good. I just need my purse—hold on.” You escaped into the back room to collect your belongings. You had your back turned and you folded up your apron to fit into your purse.

“Hey.”

Jin’s voice startled you, but when you spun around, he had a sympathetic smile on his face. You could easily read his expression and all you could do was smile back at him.

“I’m okay, Jin.” He tilted his head at your comment. “Really, I am.”

He approached you and ruffled your hair with a dry chuckle.

“I know, but—just be careful, okay?”

You knew exactly what he meant and nodded. In all honesty, you were playing it all by ear. Even if you were being careful, last night felt far from it. You couldn’t put your finger on it at the moment, but the feeling of Yoongi lying on your lap was different.

“I’ll be careful.”

↠↞

It was a breezy afternoon and you and Yoongi had to wait another 30 minutes for the next shuttle into town. This was his fourth time trying to convince you to wear his sweater and you were still refusing. You were wearing a white button up collared shirt that you always wore under your apron and jean shorts. Yoongi got cold easily, and as he sat there in a simple graphic shirt and jeans, you really couldn’t take the sweater from him.

“Yoongi, you’re shaking. Just put on your damn sweater.” You shoved his gray hoodie onto his lap.

He huffed and squinted his eyes at you. “You’re stubborn you know that.”

“I learned from the best.”

Yoongi popped his head through the neck of the sweater and straightened it out. “If you start getting cold or something, don’t come crying to me. You refused my help.” You stare at him practically shooting lasers from your eyes. “Y/n, I’m kidding. Just let me know and I’ll hold you or something.”

His comment threw you off and you could already feel the heat rushing to your face. Out of all the damn things he could say, he just had to say those.

“O-Or you could just give me your sweater.” Great, you stuttered and you hated yourself for doing so.

“Oh yeah. That too.” Yoongi coughed and dug his hands deeper into the lockers of his sweater.

Yoongi scooted closer towards you, bumping his knee against yours. It made you jump in your seat a bit because your mind was still reeling about his earlier comment. He pulled out his phone to check for messages, but immediately returned it to his pocket.

“Still no reply?” You questioned.

He shook his head and slouched forward. Again, he let out an exaggerated sigh. The couple hasn’t spoke to each other since yesterday and despite how you felt about Seolhyun, you were genuinely worried.

“Her friend was 100% sure that she saw her go to the workshop. I just want to know why is she avoiding me.” There was so much hurt in Yoongi’s tone and there was no doubt that it broke your heart as well. The least Seolhyun could’ve done was text him a ‘good morning’ or maybe even a quick ‘I love you.’ You weren’t positive on what words to say to Yoongi in that moment, so instead, you mustered up the courage to put a sympathetic arm around his shoulders. Almost immediately, Yoongi leaned into your hold. You tried to control yourself but a smile spread across your face.

The two of you remained like that until the shuttle came. You shared mild conversations and basked in the warmth of his clothed torso. When you noticed the shuttle approaching, you let go of Yoongi, feeling a bit gloomy. You stood up from your seat and it was probably all in your head, but you swore you felt the same gloomy vibe radiating off of Yoongi when you let go.

Sometimes you hated having knowledge in behavioral analysis.

↠↞

Thankfully, the supermarket wasn’t as crowded as they assumed it was going to be. There were a bunch of frat boys who you recognized from campus stocking up on alcohol. It was obvious that they already had a couple of drinks judging by their distracting fits of laughter and slightly slurred words. Yoongi kept you close, tailing an inch behind you and keeping an eye out for any of the obnoxious frat boys.

“Did you take my chopsticks last week?” You scanned the silverware for a pair similar to yours.

“I don’t think I did. I always use the wooden ones from your drawer.”

“Hm, I guess I’m buying a new pair today.” As you put the stainless steel chopsticks in the shopping cart, Yoongi placed a single white coffee mug with a picture of an orange cat. “Yoongi, I already have a coffee mug.”

“I know. This one is mine. I’m keeping this at your place.” Yoongi pushed the shopping cart forward and out of the aisle. You followed after him into the next aisle.

“And why is that?” You dumped a bag of cinnamon apple crisps into the cart.

“I’ve been practically living there for the past month. You can live off of ramen and those apple crisps, huh?” He watched you toss a couple of packs of ramen along with another bag of the cinnamon apple crisps.

“You should know, you’ve seen my kitchen.” You smile at him and walked toward the refrigerated beverages. Maybe drinking something cold wasn’t ideal in that weather, but Yoongi made you feel warmer than you would have liked and you needed something cool and refreshing.

You opened up one of the glass doors and reached in for a bottle of iced tea when another had cupped your own.

“Y/n! How’re you doin’?” The boy spoke and you could already smell the alcohol.

“I’m fine, Seung Ho.” You pulled your hand back to get another drink. You tried to walk away from him, but he gripped your forearm and turned you to face him.

“There’s a party at my beach house tonight not too far from here and I would love for you to come. Just undo the top buttons of your shirt and you’re good to go.” Your blood was boiling. Seung Ho was too close for your liking and you were seconds away from shoving your drink into his face.

“Back off, Seung Ho. She’s with me.” Yoongi came in with an agitated look on his face. Seung Ho released you and you scurried to Yoongi’s side.

“Ah, Yoongi. I didn’t know you were here. How are you and Seolhyun?” Seung Ho had a smug expression on his face whilst looking at Yoongi. “Well, then. See you later, y/n, Yoongi.”

You tossed your drink into the cart and rubbed your forearm as if his touch was contagious. “Ugh. I can’t believe he was here. Dealing with him twice a week is already horrible enough.”

Every Tuesday and Thursday was your math 102 class and Seung Ho was one of your classmates. He would sit next to you once in awhile and constantly hit on your or try to ask for your number. Seung Ho was a typical frat boy on campus: always constantly hitting up multiple girls, drinking his days away, and staying true to his frat house.

It surprised you that Yoongi also knew who he was. Yoongi always kept to himself, only hanging out with the people he was already familiar with and Seung Ho was far from his social circle.

“Despite being the fuck boy that he is,” Yoongi spat. “Seung Ho has a keen eye for writing, so he came to my english 200 class a couple of times to edit some of our papers.” You nodded your head and dropped the items onto the conveyer belt.

You weren’t lying when you said you learned from the best because Yoongi was one of the most stubborn people you ever known. At the register, Yoongi insisted multiple times to pay for your small load of groceries and of course, your stubborn ass repeatedly rejected his offer. You really didn’t want to cause a scene, so gave out your longest sight and agreed to let him pay.

“I hate you.” You gritted your teeth, walking out of the supermarket.

“No, you don’t.” Yoongi sang and taking one step ahead of you. It was annoying because he was right. You didn’t hate him, not at all.

“Whatever. Can you just pass me my drink, please?” You sat down on one of the benches right outside of the supermarket.

While Yoongi rummaged through the bag for your strawberry lemonade, you spotted a very familiar handbag and length of pitch black hair. The girl wore a beige crop top with a thin black cardigan covering her upper body and an extremely short mini skirt; she was probably heading to a party.

At first, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you and that it was just a random female shopper. You tried not to stare because it probably made you look a bit creepy, but she tilted her head to the side as she talked on the phone and you finally realized why she looked familiar.

“Yoongi, isn’t that Seolhyun?” Yoongi immediately turned his head and his mouth hung open. He seemed flustered in the moment because he kept on putting the bag down and picking it back up again. He took another glance at Seolhyun who was clearly talking on the phone. After having a mental debate, Yoongi stood from the bench and you weren’t sure why but you followed him.

“Seolhyun.” Yoongi said sternly.

Seolhyun quickly got off the phone and made eye contact with Yoongi. You couldn’t help but study her body language and she didn’t seem panic at all, she seemed surprisingly calm.

“Yoongi.” She answered and you wanted to scoff at her. For someone who didn’t contact her boyfriend for a whole day, she didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

“I’ve been trying to contact you this whole day.” Yoongi looked down at her cellphone. “I guess your phone is working.”

She rolled her eyes and took a step back. The both of you made awkward eye contact and you could feel a seething emotion coming from the look in her eyes which was weird because she never looked at you like that before. Since you met Seolhyun, she had always been kind and open towards you. You were able to hold a decent conversation with her and even if she had been shitty towards Yoongi lately, there were good traits about her.

“Honestly Yoongi, I don’t talk to you for a whole day and you’re already out holding bags for another girl?” Seolhyun spoke staring directly at you.

A fuse went off in your head upon hearing Seolhyun’s words. You tossed out all of the compliments you made about her in your head. Did she really have any right saying that to you? She was always fine whenever you and Yoongi hung out, so why was she only bothered by the idea now? You were about to defend yourself, but Yoongi cut you off.

“Don’t bring y/n into this, Seolhyun.”

“Great. Now you’re defending her?! I thought I was your girlfriend!” Seolhyun’s voice was on the verge of yelling and it startled you.

“Are you my girlfriend?! Cause if you are, you sure as hell haven’t been treating me like I’m your boyfriend for the past month.” Yoongi was obviously furious and you were all out in public. You tugged at the back of his sweater, quietly pleading him to calm down for a second.

“You know what? Whatever! I’m going. Have fun with your play thing.” Seolhyun dialed a number on her phone and proceeded to walk away.

“Play thing?! What the fuck Seolhyun, apologize to her!” She turned the corner into the extended parking lot area and disappeared out of your sight.

There was a bitter taste left in between you two. The aura was painfully thick making you at a loss for words. You were torn between apologizing and asking him how he was feeling. You chose physical contact instead by squeezing his shoulder. He tilted his head to the side to press his cheek onto the back of your hand.

“Let’s go, y/n.”

↠↞

The shuttle ride back on campus seemed much longer and painful than the first trip. Words were barely said with the exception of quiet ‘sorrys’ if you accidentally bumped into each other. You hated yourself because you had no idea on what to say to Yoongi. He was your friend, so you were supposed to be a friend and provide comforting words; except Yoongi wasn’t just a friend. Yoongi was a friend who you had romantic feelings for. The last thing you wanted to tell him was you deserve better. Just date me instead. You shook your head. Stupid, stupid.

Even the elevator ride up to your dorm was just as awkward. Yoongi still reached for your dorm keys without saying a word and you just let him. Unlike the previous night, Yoongi neatly pulled off his shoes in its designated spot as well as kept your keys, as well as his own, on your counter top. You could tell there was a lot on his mind and you were afraid you were going to say something that would set him off, but the silence was too much. You had to say something.

“Yoongi, I’m sorry. You two started arguing because of me.” You palmed your forehead once you said those words because Yoongi remained still in your kitchen. Maybe you could’ve said something different.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.” Yoongi proceeded to empty the plastic bag of its contents. His behavior didn’t match his words at all, so you pulled on his sleeve making him face you.

“I know you’re mad. You refuse to look at me, you keep nibbling on your bottom lip, and you were constantly cracking your knuckles the entire way back.” Again, sometimes you hated having knowledge in behavioral analysis.

Yoongi finally looked at you and there was something about his gaze that made you feel tense. You’ve seen it before; you caught a glimpse of it when he parked himself in your lap last night. It made your heart beat against your chest and your breath was caught in your throat.

“I’m the one who’s sorry, y/n.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

It caught you off guard for a moment. Why was Yoongi apologizing for something like that? He didn’t do anything wrong, in fact, he practically defended you. The thought of that made your cheeks burn, so you turned to open your fridge to hide your face.

“It’s fine, Yoongs. It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize.” Your kitchen was getting warmer by the minute and it was driving you crazy.

The kitchen grew silent again and it only made you feel worse. You had no idea why you were feeling more nervous than usual. It was already second nature to have Yoongi in your dorm and to add fuel to fire, he spent the night sleeping on your lap. You could already tell that your face was crimson at that thought, so you disappeared into your room to finally change out of your work attire.

Moments later, you return to your kitchen where Yoongi was now sitting on top of your counter helping himself to one of your newly bought apple crisps. You joined him, leaning against the counter and reaching for a chip.

“You don’t want to join me up here? There’s room.” Yoongi patted the white surface in front of you.

“N-No, I’m fine here.” God, why did you have to stutter? You caught Yoongi in your peripherals looking through his phone. He had a furrowed brow that was easily recognizable. “Still not texting you even after you caught her red handed?”

The sigh he let out was an annoyed one. He shoved his phone into his sweater pocket and stuffed his mouth with apple crisps.

“I just want to know what the fuck is up with her, you know?”

You nodded.

“I don’t deserve a lot, but I do deserve an explanation or something.”

You nodded again.

“She is my girlfriend and communication is key.”

This time you faltered. Girlfriend.

“By the way, Yoongi,” you avoided eye contact with him and picked at the dry skin around your nails. “Thank you for uh, earlier. I could’ve said something myself. I think you seriously pissed her off that’s why.”

You thought back to Seolhyun’s words.

“Now you’re defending her?!”

Honestly, her words set you off, and you could’ve stood your own ground. You were prepared to go off on her and how she has been a shitty girlfriend to Yoongi lately, but he stepped in and basically protected you.

“Well, I wasn’t just going to stand there and let her disrespect my girl like that.”

You almost replied. You almost smiled at him with flushed cheeks. Instead, you parted your lips and let out a choked out cough.

Did he just say my girl? Maybe your ears were deceiving you at the moment or you unconsciously replaced his words in your head with the ones you wanted to hear. But you swore you heard it loud and clear.

“Y-Your… girl?” You didn’t even realize the words slipped from your lips and you were directly looking into his wide eyes.

The feeling of instant regret washed over your body because Yoongi didn’t say one word. The only thing he did was stare back at you in complete silence.

He had the tiniest hint of pink on his cheeks that was almost impossible to ignore. You wanted to look away, but there was something about Yoongi in that moment that drew you in. He looked the same as always; simple and attractive, but why was your heart racing?

You tore your eyes away from his own and directed your attention from him eyes, to the apples of his cheeks, and finally to the flesh of his lips. The shape of his lips always intrigued you because from a distance they appeared thin, but up close, they were full, beautiful, and tempting—

Oh my god, y/n stop.

Yoongi’s eyes were locked on your face, darting downwards. His gaze was burning holes into your skin and you couldn’t help but notice a quiet shift in his body language. His body was leaning in towards yours and the room was incredibly silent you could hear him take deep breaths. You were in a daze and if you were to stare at his lips any longer you were bound to snap.

You abruptly excused yourself from his side to reach into the cabinet across of Yoongi. “I’m uh, I’m gonna eat ramen for dinner. Do you want some?”

You hear a low grunt and the thud of his feet hitting your floor. Your back was turned to him, but you could feel him staring at the back of your head.

“I’d love to, but I promised Jungkook to eat dinner with him tonight since I didn’t return to the dorm last night.” You turned your body and spotted him on the opposite side of the counter reaching for his keys. He caught your stare and when he pursed his lips into a smile, your knees suddenly turned into jello.

“O-Oh, okay.” The disappointment in your voice was crystal clear and you really wanted to strangle yourself for making it obvious. Yoongi understood your tone of voice and chuckled. He leaned against the surface and propped his chin on his palm.

“Don’t worry. I’ll come back another day to have dinner with you. Plus, I now have a coffee mug here so I have to break it in.” Yoongi had a smug look on his face as he spun the key ring around his finger. “Good night, y/n.”

Before fully disappearing out the door, he looked at your with the softest expression and you couldn’t help but smile at him. You whispered a short good night, yoongi and watched him take his leave.

At the soft click of your door closing, the blush you’ve been failing to hide fully bloomed across your face. It terrified you on how much you liked Yoongi and the fact that he was already in a relationship made everything worse.

But, why did he look so—

You groaned loudly and swung open the cabinet that contained some of your plates and drinking ware. The mug Yoongi purchased sat right beside your designated coffee mug. In comparison to his mug design, yours was a light gray with a very adorable cartoon painting of a turtle. Although Yoongi seemed cold and closed off, he had a huge soft spot for all things cute and the mug he chose suited him perfectly.

There was a part of you that so badly wanted to be with Yoongi, but you knew it wouldn’t be fair to assert yourself romantically in his life at this time, especially since he and Seolhyun weren’t on good terms. You couldn’t do that to him and if you did, you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself.

With a quiet mutter of various curse words, you sunk to the floor of your kitchen and hugged your knees to your chest. You needed to get a grip on reality; Yoongi was in a relationship and you couldn’t just keep on wracking your brain with “what ifs.”

For the past month, your feelings for Yoongi intensified because of how much time the two of you spent together. He would come over to study, possibly stay the night, or you would be invited over to his dorm instead. You hated to admit it, but you slightly took advantage of his situation to give him comforting hugs or even let him lean on your shoulder to provide him a listening ear. You weren’t sure what it was earlier, but all of this thinking made everything much clearer.

Intimacy.

That’s what it was; the word that described everything. You noticed that things had become a little more intimate. A part of you craved for that intimacy but the other part of you was utterly terrified.

You stood up from the floor and took a deep breath. All of this thinking was making you lose your appetite, so you decided to brew yourself a cup of coffee instead. It occurred to you that if you continued to let yourself melt easily into Yoongi, you were going to fuck up eventually. Whilst pouring the bitter cup of joe into your mug, you made the decision to stay away from him for a little while.

The decision made you feel bitter, so bitter that you didn’t add in any milk or sugar into your coffee. You sat in your living room and switched on your television to watch more reruns of Forensic Files. You took a small sip of your coffee, knowing how much you hated your coffee black. Ergh. You didn’t want to add any sweetener because you thought you could drown your bitter feelings with something similar.

You were barely focused on the episode because your mind was solely focused on Yoongi, but the sound of your text message tone snapped you back into reality. Speaking of the devil.

[6:27] Yoongz: What a surprise, Jungkook is making us ramen for dinner too.

You smile at the text.

[6:28] You: ah well, i decided not to eat. im drinking coffee instead

Maybe you didn’t need to stay away from him as long as you set a boundary for yourself. If you knew where to draw the line, then it wouldn’t be too bad. You could keep spending time with him and if you felt any sort of intimate advances, you could excuse yourself.

[6:30] Yoongz: You need to eat, you know

[6:30] Yoongz: Is it because you’re lonely right now since I stayed last night?

The text made you choke on your coffee.

[6:31] Yoongz: I can come back to your dorm and eat dinner with you

[6:31] Yoongz: Just say the word and I’m there

It was only a text message, not a face to face response and yet he managed to raise your temperature and speed up your heart rate.

Yeah. I need to stay away.

finallyyyyy, ive been rereading this over and over, editing, and fixing up stuff and i finally uploaded ^-^ this series is definitely not over huhu. i hope you guise enjoyed part two :D

♡ rae jagi

[missmeikakuna]

Chad and the Incel Chapter 6

Rated: M

Fandom: Original Fiction (but inspired by the Virgin vs Chad meme)

Relationship type: Male/Male with a bit of Female/Female (the lesbians are adorable, btw) and unrequited Male/Female (in other words, the guys are bisexual).

Description: Chad is, well, a Chad, or at least he looks like one. He’s got his sights set on the cool nerd Becky and enlists the help of her shy incel ex-friend Noah, offering to help him get the gorgeous girl (Stacy) he desperately wants. Noah is reluctant to help, believing that he will be stuck in inceldom forever, but Chad’s interest in his life gives him hope. When their plans go awry, they start turning their romantic attention towards each other.

Content Warning: Given the subject matter, you can guess that this story has dark themes in it, such as suicide and self-harm (plus the mental health issues that often cause them), sexism, slut-shaming homophobia, biphobia and transphobia. There is also swearing and some mentions of sex but nothing too explicit (hence the M rating as opposed to an Explicit rating).

6th Post: [Experiment] (POLL) What do you think of gay men?

At school, Noah saw Chad and immediately looked away. Chad did the same.

As he sat in class, Chad absentmindedly doodled a heart. When he noticed this, a jolt of fear ran through his spine and he scribbled over the drawing. When lunch arrived, Tyrone’s chatter became a blur in Chad’s ears as peridot eyes consumed his thoughts. Despite this, he refused to look at Noah.

On his way to his car after school, he saw a girl with thick-framed glasses who giggled and waved at him. He stared at her with lust in his eyes, but that quickly ended when the memory of Noah putting his glasses back on projected onto his mind.

At home, Chad curled his arm with a dumbbell, a manga in his other hand. When the image of Noah staring at him as he stared back popped up in his head, he dropped the dumbbell and swore as one end fell onto his foot.

The memory was replaced with another, but not of Noah. An image of Chad’s old middle school building flashed in his mind.

The sun woke Chad from his slumber. Well, that and the pencil regularly poking his cheek. He looked up and swore. Almost everyone had left the classroom. Everyone except for the teacher, who was packing her things, and the boy with the pencil in his hand.

Chad gazed at the boy’s face, which was bathed in the sunlight. The boy had a big grin that showed his missing tooth. He wore a pair of round glasses whose size made his face almost disappear. He wasn’t quite bald but had a thin bed of hair on his head. His nose bent a little to the side but he had never complained about it. He smelled strongly of supermarket cologne and his breath, as he laughed his loud, hearty laugh, was minty. When he pinched Chad’s cheek, Chad noticed how warm and sweaty his hands were. This boy was Gerry LeGume. He had been made fun of for his name but took it in stride.

‘What were you dreaming about, Sudan?’

Ah, yes. The nicknames he gave people. Usually, they were based on some sort of pun or similar word to their name. He even called himself either Gus or Matt depending on how highly he thought of himself that day (Gus for his arrogant moods, Matt for his ‘humbler’ moods). He derived these names from a film with his name as the title, a film he hadn’t even seen and yet already decided was genius.

Chad looked away. ‘You don’t dream if you only sleep for a little bit.’ He was kind of lying. He had been dreaming, though that dream swirled around his brain long before he fell asleep.

Gerry’s eyes were wide as if he was staring at a doorway to another world. ‘Is that true?’

Chad shrugged before yawning and stretching his arms. He made sure to continue looking away from Gerry, who reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

‘A girl gave me this to give to you,’ he explained. ‘Honestly, I wouldn’t bother reading it. I mean, she’s a coward if she doesn’t give it directly to you. And why write a letter when she could have just asked for your number?’

Chad grabbed the envelope and stared at it, rubbing his thumb against the heart sticker sealing it. He looked back up at Gerry, who was holding his glasses as he stared at him.

‘So watcha gonna do?’

Chad rested his chin on his hand and waved the envelope around with his other hand. ‘I mean, even if she did ask me for my number, I would’ve said no. I’m not looking to go out with anyone.’ Also a lie.

Gerry scoffed a laugh and turned around until he was facing the whiteboard. ‘Gay,’ he said sarcastically, though that sarcasm was lost on Chad, whose eyes travelled everywhere as if looking for an escape.

Gerry stood up and wrapped his arm around Chad’s neck, rubbing the knuckles of his free hand against Chad’s head.

‘You look like a cat that just discovered he got his own tongue,’ he said. Would it be important to mention he had high scores in English, and that he bragged about this constantly?

His body heat quickly transferred to Chad, who felt warm shivers run through his body. The cologne was overwhelming and the laughter-dispensed minty breath tickled Chad’s ear. Chad held his own arms to prevent them from doing something dangerous.

When the proximity became too much to handle, he pushed Gerry away and stood up, picking up his books and running out of the classroom. He raced home, rushed to his room and shut the door closed with all his strength. He stood against the door and slipped down onto the ground.

‘It’s nothing,’ he told himself. ‘I’ve had crushes on girls, so it’s nothing.’ He remembered Gerry’s cologne and changed that sentiment to, ‘I’m nothing.’ He held his knees up to his chin and let sour tears leave his eyes.

He kept crying for a few minutes but then decided to turn on the TV and distract himself. He took a pillow from his bed and put it on the floor, scooting close to the TV. The channel he ended up on when he turned it on was in the middle of a show. In it, a teenage boy was confessing to… another boy? What was this?

The other boy on the show smiled. ‘I thought you liked girls.’

The confessor laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I do, but I like you more.’

More tears fell down Chad’s face, but this time, when they reached his mouth, they tasted sweeter. When the television couple kissed, his heart, no, all of his organs, jumped up. Part of him felt like getting up and dancing but he heard the front door to the house open and decided against it, especially after hearing his mother call out to him.

The next day, he fidgeted in his seat, waiting for school to end. When the final bell rang, he grabbed Gerry’s arm.

‘Can we talk?’

‘Uh, sure? What is it?’

‘I mean in private. Don’t worry I’m not, you know, going to kill you or anything. Not that I ever would! Um… yeah. I just want to talk somewhere no one will hear us.’

Gerry turned his head to the side while still looking at him, but he nodded. After heading out of the building, they went behind it.  Chad took a deep breath. Then he did it again. Then a third time. He quickly started to sound like he was hyperventilating.

Gerry laughed nervously. ‘You going to talk? You were acting pretty weird yesterday. What’s going on?’

‘Do you have a crush on anybody?’ Chad sputtered out.

A blush appeared on Gerry’s face. ‘N-No… maybe… yes. Why?’

Chad forced himself to look at Gerry. He put his hands in his front pant pockets and swayed back and forth.

‘I’ve got a crush on someone.’

‘Yeah? Who?’ Gerry asked with wide eyes and a grin.

Chad lowered his head and looked at his feet. ‘You.’ He turned around to walk away but stopped himself when he heard Gerry’s reply.

‘The fuck?’ Chad turned back around and saw a barely recognisable face. It was contorted, Gerry’s nose scrunched up and his eyes narrow. ‘I thought you liked girls.’

Chad moved his arm up to grab Gerry’s arm but didn’t touch it just yet. ‘I do, but… I l-like you... m-more.’ He almost slapped himself for fumbling that line. He took Gerry’s arm but Gerry shoved his hand away, dragging Chad’s heart down to his feet.

‘That’s weird. I didn’t expect you of all people to be a faggot. You don’t exactly act like one. Why me? What did I do to deserve this?’

‘Y-you’re just… I dunno… funny and… nice… and stuff.’

‘If I’m those things, then I don’t deserve to be creeped on by a faggot.’

‘But…’

Gerry passed him, walking at an angle to keep his body as far away from Chad’s as possible.

When school ended the next day and the teacher left the room to collect something, Gerry spoke to some other friends of his on the other side of the classroom, not bothering to lower his voice so Chad couldn’t hear it.

‘It’s freaky, huh? I’ve never met an actual homo before.’ He was sitting on another student’s desk and leaning back on his hands, kicking his legs back and forth.

The boy sitting in the seat at the desk laughed. ‘Yeah, and you wouldn’t expect it. I guess anyone we know could be like that. Creepy.’

Chad shuffled towards them. ‘’m not gay,’ he murmured.

‘What? Speak up,’ a second boy commanded. He was standing next to the desk.

‘I’m not gay.’

A third boy snickered, leaning back on his chair, which was behind the first boy. ‘Then why did you say you had a crush on Gerry?’

‘I like girls but I like him more.’

Gerry groaned. ‘That again?’

The third boy shifted his chair closer, sending a light screeching noise into the classroom. ‘So you’re straight?’

Chad stepped back and put his hands in his pockets again. ‘No… maybe… I don’t know. Maybe I’m both?’

The second boy laughed.  ‘You can’t be both. You’re gay or straight. You’re not making any sense.  Do you need to be put in a loony bin or something?’

Tears started creeping out of Chad’s eyes and the boys responded with laughter. The sitting ones stood. Together with the already standing second boy, they loomed closer, towering over Chad’s cowering body.

‘So are you a faggot or are you normal?’ Gerry asked.

The boys kept pushing Chad further down with their stares. He felt like a wounded gazelle in front of an entire pride of hungry lions. He did the one thing he could think to do.

He gripped Gerry’s collar and punched him square in the jaw. The pain in his fist mixed with righteousness in his heart to make a confusing concoction. Gerry pushed Chad to the ground and started repeatedly punching him. Chad pulled his arm towards him and bit it. The other boys pounced on Chad, kicking and punching him.

Chad screamed when he felt one of his ribs crack. He lost all energy in his arms and legs and lied there as the boys continued to bash him. The boys heard the voice of a teacher they knew outside the classroom and headed out, shutting the door.

Chad licked his lips and felt like vomiting as the taste of blood poured into his mouth from the crack in his bottom lip. His gums were in pain, just barely keeping their grip on his teeth after his mouth was punched so many times. He could already feel bruises developing on his chest and cheek, the latter of which stung with tears.

When his teacher returned, she shrieked and dropped her clipboard upon seeing his shivering body. She ran to him, kneeled, held him up and called emergency services.

At the hospital, Chad didn’t tell any of the doctors or nurses what happened, keeping his mouth shut, or at least as shut as it could be with swollen lips.

His parents visited him, but they were always preoccupied with their daughter’s latest achievement, reading articles about her on their phones instead of talking to him.

One day, he asked them to show him the website and he saw a recommended article at the end of the one about his sister. In the thumbnail was a tanned, broad-shouldered man with a neck that still managed to look like a tree trunk under his big helmet. He was holding a football up in preparation to pass it to someone.

When Chad was released from the hospital the first thing he did at home was look up gridiron classes.

After the memory ended, Chad lied down on his bed and did nothing, simply looking at the ceiling and wishing he was tired enough to fall asleep.

Noah posed a question to Incels.me before going to bed. When he returned to the site a few days later, he looked at the poll and saw a mixture of views.

Anicel1919- [Experiment] (POLL) What do you think of gay men?

They’re great- 20 votes

They’re good/okay- 19 votes

I don’t care about them- 45 votes

They’re bad- 23 votes

I hate them- 8 votes

He took a deep breath before looking at the comments. The mixture remained.

Yourwaifuistrash- I mean, they’re not fucking femoids all day, so I don’t care what they do with their lives.

ERdidnothingwrong- They’re degenerates. But hey, at least if we keep them with each other, they can give each other AIDS and die out.

Hopelesscel95- Gas to faggots and trannies.

Ropeourlordandsaviour- They’re fine. Lesbians are trash, though. They claim to hate men until Chad gives them a few bottles. Then see what happens. Fucking sluts.

mxsogklash- Some of them are fine, it’s just the ones that act all effeminate that annoy me. It’s also annoying how much sex they get and despite this fact they’re treated like a protected class.

Joshua69- Soy Boy! Soy boy! Lol, I don’t really care, though. For incels there’s no reason to be against gay people.

Lookcel404- Gay men are just coping incels. They can’t get femoids interested in them so they pretend to be something they’re not and, even though they may act happy and with ‘pride’, they’re really miserable because they can’t get femoids. That’s why so many of them off themselves.

After reading through comment after comment, he noticed how tense his arms were. Was this desire, this want, this need just a ‘cope’? Was he lying to himself? Was he going crazy?

He took a few deep breaths. Just before his breaths had completely calmed down, a memory from middle school jammed itself back into his mind.

Noah closed his tabs as his mother entered the room. ‘Whatcha up to?’ she asked.

‘Nothing.’

His parents weren’t ready for the truth. To him, they were still sheep following the words of a book they hadn’t even read. It was them who gave him the worst name possible. There was no way they would be able to understand their son’s ascendance into intellectual godhood.

What activity was blowing his mind and causing him to question the fragile foundations of society? Watching atheist YouTubers, of course!

When his mother left the room, he reopened the tabs and clicked on a recommended video. The host looked different from the others. He was a clean-shaven, muscular Asian man in a sea of bearded white atheists. He had a big pearly smile as he made fun of the logical inconsistencies in Ken Ham’s books.

Noah initially listened to his counterarguments with great interest, but around halfway through the video his attention went elsewhere- the man’s muscles. After a while, Noah stopped paying attention to his words completely and started noticing how the man’s biceps were slightly shiny. He pictured someone rubbing oil over those arms.

After a few seconds of imagination, he closed the tab again and looked at his door. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realised his mother wasn’t there.

His head started spinning and he felt a little sick. He could feel his heartbeat through his ears and, when he looked down at his lap, he swore. He unzipped his jeans. When he was done, his shoulders felt as heavy as an occupied palanquin under the weight of the shame he had placed upon himself. He looked at his hand as if putrid smoke was coming out of it.

The next day was spent trying to act like nothing had happened. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he imagined someone chatting with him and him blurting out what happened the previous night. Luckily no one talked to him.

When he returned home, he lied down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He wondered what would happen if he prayed. He doubted something would happen, but then he remembered something his mother always said.

‘A prayer a day keeps the despair away.’

He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. He whispered his prayer. ‘Hey, god, I doubt you exist because your book makes no sense, but, I mean, on the off chance you are real, you mind giving me a girlfriend? You probably don’t want me repeating what I did last night. Make her a cool girl who’s interested in the same things as me. I want her to be smart. But not too smart! I don’t care if she’s pretty or whatever, just give me someone I can talk to easily. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m bothering with this infantile display of societal conformism. You can’t even hear me.’

The shame returned to his shoulders, as did the imagined smoke from his hand.

A week later, a new student joined the class. Becky White, a girl with messy hair in a ponytail and a constant frown. She scanned the class and sneered at them.

‘I was expecting more competition,’ she said as she turned to the teacher. ‘Are any of these people with an IQ higher than 110?’

Noah raised his hand. Facebook tests counted, right? Becky noted the seat next to Noah and sat next to him with a huff.

‘So, who do you prefer?  Xenophanes or Pascal?’ she asked him.

Noah felt a sting from not knowing who either was. ‘Huh?’

‘It’s a very important question. I need to know if you’re a religious conformist or not.’

‘Oh, I’m an atheist.’

Becky grinned and held out her hand. He took it and they shook hands. He couldn’t help but notice how cool, smooth and lacking in sweat her hands were. He gave her a closer look and felt his heart beat just a little faster.

Noah pushed the memory away and watched an anime to let the show occupy his thoughts.

[thescholarlystrumpet]

Blue-eyed Murder in a Size 5 Dress Unrated

Words:3330

Mr. Gold is a reluctant English teacher in a boring small town. 18 year old Lacey French, part loudmouth rebel and part clandestine intellectual, is his favorite student - for more than academic reasons. He tries to push away the shameful desire but, through a little playful ribbing from Lacey's best friend, Gold is about to discover the feeling is entirely too mutual.

Gratuitous student/teacher Golden Lace. Rating will undoubtedly go up if I continue it.

*** Note: Ok so this literally only exists because I told @rowofstars about a random idea I had where Ruby was teasing Lacey/Belle by singing "Hot for Teacher" in Mr. Gold's class and she said I had to write the thing. Who am I to refuse? XD

On AO3 HERE

Mr. Gold was looking over his lesson plan with a frown as the class came shuffling in. Some changes needed to be made if he was going to get this class up to the standard.  This wasn't even an AP class but he taught it with a certain set of expectations. He loathed the idea of lowering them for anyone. Yet, here they were, halfway through the school year and only a handful of students seemed capable of the level of work he expected. Senior English should mean that they'd had the previous three years to learn how to write a tolerably decent essay. This year's senior class seemed to be struggling with even the most basic sentence structure. He shouldn't be so surprised by it, he reasoned. He'd only started at Storybrooke High School in the past year but he'd had the opportunity to meet the previous English teacher, Astrid. Astrid was gentle, soft spoken, and almost unbearably pleasant. No wonder the students in her care had learned almost nothing. She'd probably coddled them to death. The woman had left her teaching position to have a baby with her new husband just as Gold moved to town to be closer to his son. In the hazy heat of a Maine summer, it had seemed a fortuitous circumstance.

For some bizarre reason, Neal had settled in this tiny Godforsaken town with his fiancee, Emma, an officer on the local police force who was well on her way to being sheriff someday. Gold liked his brazen blonde soon-to-be daughter-in-law well enough. It was a relief to interact with someone who spoke her mind freely, even when they disagreed. Besides that, Emma been instrumental in encouraging a reunion between Neal and himself. Gold had a long memory for slights but a longer one still for those few who'd proven themselves to be allies.

To facilitate the growing sense of closeness with his only living kin, Gold had uprooted himself from Boston and his small real estate business there. Storybrooke was in no need of another real estate broker but Gold had led more lives than most cats and could fall back easily on any number of skill sets to survive. He’d thought of setting himself up as a lawyer but the only agency in town wasn't hiring and he didn't have the liquid capital to establish his own. To supplement income while he freed up assets (and really, if he was being honest  - to keep himself busy) he applied for the teaching position.

He hadn’t taught since before Neal was born but stringing together an academically challenging lesson plan was like riding a bicycle. Easier, even, given that lesson plans didn’t wreak havoc on his bad leg.

The thing for which he had not prepared himself was the day to day fact of being surrounded by quibbling, hormonal teenagers who cared far more for the latest fashion trend than any esoteric knowledge he might try to impart. He’d made an effort, in the beginning, appealing to any sense of adventure small town kids might harbor with assignments such as Robinson Crusoe, The Time Machine, and even Around the World in 80 Days. Complacency and boredom met him at every turn.

Then again, there were one or two bright spots in the sea of adolescent mediocrity. Namely, within the shining eyes of one Lacey French, a brunette whose essays were both thoughtful and amusingly tongue in cheek. She didn’t always appear entirely attentive in class but the work she turned in was easily at a University level. Given her often slovenly appearance, he had initially been taken aback by the quality of her writing. Lacey showed up to school with her hair in a messy bun or high ponytail, wearing half the makeup section of the local drug store. Her skirts were always shy of regulation length, her tights shredded  to the point where he rather wondered what purpose they even served - it couldn’t be warmth.

Gold had even googled her first few short papers to make sure they hadn’t been purchased online. Satisfied that the words were likely her own, Gold began to anticipate Lacey’s assignments with a degree of eagerness. There was a sly wickedness to her sense of humor he found secretly delightful. In the months she’d been his pupil, he found himself wishing she would actually speak more in class. The other students might learn a thing or two from her example.

Unfortunately, she stayed mostly mum during class time, save the occasional whisper session with the Lucas girl. After the bell, Lacey would sometimes linger by his desk to ask an insightful question and they would engage in the only truly stimulating discussion he usually got in this sleepy town.  

Gold was starting to realize it was frankly shameful how much he enjoyed those moments. When he’d been a teen, himself, Lacey would have been exactly the type to break his heart into a million pieces - clever, brash, and oddly self-possessed for all her youth. It didn’t help that beneath that palate of cheap powder, Lacey was, in fact, stunningly beautiful. Lithe and petite, she was one of the only students who was not taller than him. Her pale, heart-shaped face was complemented by tumbling auburn curls and a pair of brilliantly blue eyes.

He reminded himself constantly to keep his distance from the girl, never allow his interest to stray beyond her intellectual offerings. It was always hardest to remember on the days she wore her flirtiest hemlines.

Lacey and her friend Ruby Lucas trailed in just as the sound of the last bell was fading. Their heads were bent together as they seemed to be exchanging heated whispers. Lacey was pink cheeked and shaking her head vehemently at something Ruby was saying as they took their seats.

Ruby laughed aloud and Gold cut his eyes toward her. The warning glance only seemed to ignite her amusement further and the tall girl covered her mouth with both hands, slumping toward her desk. Lacey muttered something terse, flinging the back of her hand toward Ruby’s arm.

“Alright, settle down. Now.” Gold commanded. The chatter in the room fell to a dull buzz that quickly bled out. “Due to the frankly abysmal work that you all turned in last week, we‘re going to spend this week doing some refresher courses on grammar.”

He picked up the pile of homework from his desk with one hand, gripping his cane with the other, and limped toward them. He always sorted the papers by their assigned seats to make it easier handing them out one-handed. As he dropped each paper on its respective owner’s desk, he launched into his prepared lecture. Halfway down the second row, someone began to hum. He glanced over his shoulder to see Lacey waving frantically in Ruby’s direction as Ruby leaned away in her chair, humming off-key.

“Ladies. Is there a problem?” he narrowed his eyes at them.

Lacey’s gaze went wide, her cheeks flushing even pinker than before. “No, Mr. Gold.”

Ruby snorted and Lacey glared her.

“No problem, here,” echoed Ruby, still looking at her friend with a wide grin.

“Let’s keep it that way, hm?” Gold exhaled loudly and returned to his lecture.

A moment later, the humming resumed, this time loud enough that Gold could take an educated guess as to the tune. Behind him, he heard a shushing noise. He ignored both, raising his voice over the two girls. The humming was soon accompanied by a drumming of fingers on desktop.

Just as Gold whirled back to admonish the perpetrator, Lacey was leaning over to grab Ruby’s arm and saying in a stage whisper, “Goddammit Rubes, fucking stop it!” Several students around the two girls began to giggle and Lacey’s hand slapped over her mouth as though she could stuff the words back in. “Shit,” she mumbled behind her fingers.

Ruby had stopped drumming and was glancing back and forth between Gold and Lacey with an expression somewhere between horror and amusement.

Gold scowled deeply at both of them. “Miss Lucas, Miss French - you'll both see me after class. If I hear another peep from either of you that is not somehow related to The Scarlet Letter, I will be sending you to visit with Principal Mills.”

Even Ruby Lucas was cowed by that ominous warning. She looked down at her desk, lips pressed tight together. Lacey looked briefly as though she might burst into tears but she rallied quickly, squaring her shoulders and meeting Gold’s eye. She gave a sharp nod.

Gold pressed his lips together to keep from smiling at her.

As the class went on, Gold found himself increasingly distracted by memory of the tune Ruby had been humming. It was a rock song about the singer having a crush on a teacher. Clearly something the girls must have been discussing prior to his class. Gold wasn't stupid or vain enough to assume himself the subject. Even if the very idea did make his blood rush in his ears.

Lacey with a crush on him. Utterly preposterous. He was more than twice her age, permanently disabled, and cantankerous as hell. No 18 year old girl in her right mind would think twice about a man like him. And rightly so.

He ran through a roster of male faculty members who might appeal to young women. The gym teacher was attractive but not nearly up to Lacey's intellectual level. Then again, not all women required such stimulation - as Gold has been dismayed to discover at Lacey's age.

David Nolan, perhaps. The vice principal was handsome, educated, and known for his imminent likability. Even Gold was rather fond of the younger man, despite his lack of desire to form attachments in this nothing of a town. There had been a pep rally lead by Nolan just before Gold’s class. He'd narrowly avoided attending by explaining the need to revise his lesson plan before standardized testing began. But the whole class would have been there and it seemed the most likely place for Lacey to have confessed to Ruby any secret desire she might harbor.

Class ended abruptly and Gold found the object of his musings waiting beside his desk with an expression of penitence that he didn't buy for a second. Ruby stood by the door, impatiently tapping the toes of one foot.

“Mr. Gold?”

He blinked at Lacey stupidly only just remembering he'd asked both girls to stay after. “Ah yes, the distraction-causing Miss Lucas and her foul mouthed friend. That will be a detention each, today after school and I'll want a half page essay from each of you - single spaced. Miss Lucas, your subject is the impact of noise pollution on the collective attention span of the teenage mind.”

Lacey snorted and covered her mouth with one hand as Ruby stared at Gold in confusion.

“Um, okay?”

Gold looked at Lacey, whose shoulders were quivering with silent laughter. She always was the only one to truly appreciate his sense of humor. He wished he didn’t enjoy making her laugh quite so much. “Miss French, your topic is the effect of semantic choices on the manner in which we are perceived.”

Lacey’s mouth twisted but her eyes still glinted with amusement. “Sounds like fun.”

Gold looked away to keep himself from smiling at her. Always ready for a challenge, that girl.

Ruby huffed and rolled her eyes. “So, can we go to lunch now or what?”

Gold leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “Perhaps I should add another afternoon for being rude to a teacher?”

Lacey stepped closer. “She didn't mean it, Mr. Gold. She's just turns into a bit- um, she-dog when she gets hungry.” Lacey looked back at her friend, who made a face at her. “What? You totally do.” Lacey inclined her head but, with her face turned away, Gold could not see her expression.

The two girls seemed to silently communicate for a moment before Ruby shrugged. “Whatever. It’s chili day. See ya’!”

Gold turned back to his lesson plan, dismissing both girls out of hand, when he realized that Lacey hadn’t followed her friend. In fact, she hadn’t moved at all, just running her fingers along the wood grain of his desk and looking at him, thoughtfully.

“You can go to lunch, now, Miss French. I hear it’s,” he gave an exaggerated grimace, “ chili day.”

Lacey laughed lightly and shifted toward him, the hand on his desk laying flat against the top. “I’m sorry about… it’s all my fault. Ruby and I were talking during the pep rally and I told her... “ Her cheeks tinged pink and she shrugged. “Well, I don’t even know if you knew the song she was singing but she was just messing with me about it.”

“Of course I knew,” Gold snapped, oddly perturbed by the returning notion that his favorite pupil might fancy the bland but undeniably charming David Nolan.

Lacey’s brows flew upwards “So, you know…?” she closed then opened her mouth, eyes shifting to the side then back to him. “You, um, know... Van Halen?”

“Well not personally but I didn't exactly hibernate through the 80s. As much is that might've been a better choice.” As an afterthought he added, “I'm more surprised that you know them.”

“Oh, I've always listened to classic rock.” Lacey shifted in her high heeled shoes, the hand not on his desk now twisting in her skirt.

Gold winced inwardly. The reminder was starkly painful but necessary. At times it became a little too easy to forget the insurmountable age gap that lay between them. Not just a gap, a chasm. A shark infested moat. He had to keep picturing it like that. Anything that would remind him that Lacey French was forbidden territory.

She was studying him now with the oddest expression, as though trying to solve a puzzle. She licked her lips. “Does that… I mean, is it a problem?”

He furrowed his brow, trying to decipher exactly what code she was speaking. “I believe it calls your tastes in music into question but otherwise…” he waved a hand in the air, dismissing the issue.

“So….” Lacey leaned one hip a little too casually against the desk. “Roth or Hagar?”

Gold delicately wrinkled his nose. “Why on Earth would I have an opinion on that?”

“Because everyone has an opinion on that,” she replied, in a tone that implied she was stating the obvious.

Gold bit back a smile. “Do you?”

“Of course. But we’re not talking about me, right now,” Lacey shook her head.

“Perhaps we ought to be talking more about your detention?” the warning was toothless as he really had no desire for her to leave, but for the sake of propriety….

Lacey blew air out through pursed lips, tilting her head to look contemplatively at him. “You're a Hagar man, aren't you?”

Gold raised an eyebrow, refusing to dignify the suggestion with an answer.

Bold as brass, Lacey reached out and patted his hand. “It’s okay. I mean, he's a bit more conservative so, that makes sense,” she mused, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “No assless chaps.”

“Language, Miss French,” he chided without conviction, holding very still as he realized her hand hadn’t moved away from where it covered his. She was standing so close he could see little flecks of silver and green in her eyes, the scent of something fruity and sweet wafting toward him. Perfume, perhaps. Or her shampoo. Some ridiculous and disgusting part of him desperately - foolishly! - wanted to turn his hand upward and entwine their fingers. Pull her closer still and see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

Seemingly oblivious to the torment her proximity was causing him, Lacey continued on in a false tone of shock. “What?” She batted her lashes. “ I'm not even allowed to say ass ? Even Shakespeare said ass.” She leaned even farther forward as she said the latter, so they were practically nose to nose.

Gold’s mouth went dry. He swallowed around a sudden thickness in his throat. “Well, when you've written plays for the British queen and you can say whatever you want. Until then, there are rules, Lacey.”

The corners of Lacey’s mouth curled upward, her gaze intent as she leaned in just a fraction of an inch. “Yeah but…” her expression shifted to something searching, almost wistful, “don’t you ever just wanna say fuck the rules?”

Lacey’s gaze flicked from his eyes to his mouth then back, her own lips parting slightly as her smirk fell away. The fingers of the hand covering his curled inward. Gold held his breath. She was so achingly close, her gaze gone dark and heavy lidded. He could smell her lipgloss. It too, was fruity. Strawberries. She smelled like a summer banquet. Ripe fruit plump and shining in the sun, begging to be plucked and devoured. Even her breath was hot and sweet as it gusted over him.

And before his mind could register it happening, her lips were on his and she was kissing him. Worse - much, much worse, he was kissing her back. Her free hand slid into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp in a way that made him swallow a groan. The other hand stayed on his, clinging tight as his palm sweat against the desk. He could barely move, barely think, barely breathe. Stuck somewhere between exquisite fantasy come to life and the harrowing reality that this should not - could not - be happening, for a moment he was almost completely undone.

Someone outside the door laughed loudly and Gold slammed back against his chair, the front feet rocking off the ground in his haste to put space between them (without rising from his desk and embarrassing himself further). Lacey reeled away, as well, withdrawing her hand and blinking rapidly.

“Miss French…” he panted, “this is…. We can’t just… It isn’t….” he wallowed helplessly for the proper words. For a man who loved language, it certainly seemed to have deserted him now, when he needed it most.

“But… I thought.” Lacey shook her head, . “The song… I thought you knew it was about you.”

All his breath seemed to leave his body and Gold could only stare in mute wonder. About him. Not Nolan or some similarly pretty face. Lacey was, demonstrably, Hot for Teacher and he was that teacher. God help him if that didn’t make some deep and feral pride buried within him roar to life. He clutched the handles of his chair even tighter, crossing his legs in a miserably unsubtle attempt at preserving some dignity.

“I think perhaps you... “ he tried to stutter out a response but Lacey’s eyes had already flicked away as she pulled a buzzing cell phone from - oh for fuck’s sake - the top of her shirt.

“Oh! Shit, I forgot I have this stupid History project to work on.” She frowned a little, chewing on her lower lip. “Sorry to... “ one shoulder shrugged. “Aw, hell. I’m not sorry, Mr. Gold. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

The remaining rational part of his brain was screaming that he ought to reprimand her, ought to lecture her on the inappropriateness of them ever even being in the same room alone together - let along doing that - again. But that part was silenced quickly as Lacey leaned in to press her lips to his, once more.

A breath away, she murmured, “See you at detention.”

A shudder of pure desire ran the length of his spine and it was all Gold could do to keep himself from leaning forward to capture her mouth again. He found himself making a vague sound of agreement that came out more like a whimper.

With a hum of satisfaction, Lacey swept away and out the door.

Unmoving, Gold listened to the clicking of her heels fade, her gloss still sticky and sweet on his lips.