#but people still walk by there and often incredibly annoyingly sit exactly right in front of me there

[carcarrot]

trying to eat my lunch at work is an olympic sport and brother im going for the gold

[talesofesther]

Anchor - Part 9

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Masterlist with the other parts

See part one for important notes

A/N: This part is really sweet, I liked it, and I think it has a reeeally nice flow to it. The idea I initially had for this was entirely different but as I was writing things just happened and it turned out like this. I changed it a couple of times to fit Five's character so I hope it's good enough. If you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know. ♥

Y/N took slow steps into the filthy place. In every sense, this place defined everything she didn't like. Sweaty and rich men were screaming at the top of their lungs, swinging their money around, urging incessantly for the men on the ring to fight to the death, or at least until they're unconscious. The dim light and downright bad structure made everything look even worse. Like the ones fighting were more animals than humans. Y/N felt nothing but uncomfortable here.

It was hard to believe that it was Luther the one on the ring, this didn't feel worthy of him. Or anyone for that matter. The man Luther was fighting with was big, but somehow he still managed to be bigger.

However, he wasn't fighting back. At some point he started to take all the hits, his face starting to become bloody, and he still asked for more.

"What's he doing?" Y/N asked, on edge with the scene unfolding before her.

"I don't know" Five said as he gripped the fence tighter. "Luther are you crazy? Just hit him!"

Everyone was yelling the same thing to him, to fight back. But he didn't, and with one last punch, Luther went flying and landed on the ground. Blood coming out of his mouth, sweat all over his body, but he looked weirdly pleased. That's one scene Y/N would never imagine happening.

Slowly, the people started to leave the horrible place. Everyone seeming equally surprised by the outcome of the fight. Five, Y/N, and Vanya were currently standing outside.

"We need to speak with him" Five insisted, his hands on his pockets while his foot hit the ground anxiously.

"I know Five, but I think everyone has had quite enough for today. Especially him, we can come here first thing tomorrow morning" Y/N tried to reason with him as it was pretty clear that Luther was in no shape to talk right now.

"I agree with her, I have to go back to the farm" Vanya stepped into the conversation. She looked weirdly naive for someone that already caused an apocalypse. Everyone makes mistakes, I guess. Y/N thought.

Five let out a long sigh, he was clearly impatient and not at all happy with the decision. "Alright, fine. First thing tomorrow morning, be here Vanya". Then he turned to Y/N. "Let's go".

_________

It was a little late already, so Elliott's place was dark. Everyone was probably asleep already, so, at the moment, Y/N and Five were the only ones up. She turned on one of the table lamps in the living room, it did a poor job of illuminating the place, but it was all she needed. The darkness did help with calming her nerves anyway. The girl threw herself on the comfy couch and let out a sigh, closing her eyes and enjoying the peace of the moment.

But not a second later, a bright light hit her face, making her frown and let out an annoyed groan. Five had to disturb her peace by turning on the light in the kitchen.

Y/N slowly turned her head to his direction, an unpleasant look on her face. "Why do you have to drink so much coffee?" The girl asked in a lazy and unamused tone.

Five only glanced at her form on the couch and turned his eyes back to his mug, a small smirk on his face.

Scoffing, Y/N turned her head towards the ceiling and muttered "rude".

"This... Can harm you, you know?" The girl got up from the couch and made her way to Five with slow steps. A malicious grin was adorning her slightly parted lips, making Five almost drop his mug.

The boy raised one of his eyebrows at her, shifting from one foot to the other but never looking away from her figure.

"Yeah, high blood pressure. Anxiety. Insomnia. Rapid heart rate. The list goes on" stopping with just a small distance between them, Y/N crossed her arms. Taking the opportunity to eye Five up and down. He was just a little taller than her, his eyebrows always a little frowned in concentration, his soft hair perfectly falling above his eyes, and his knuckles slowly going white while holding the mug. "I'm afraid you're gonna break that if you grip any tighter" Y/N said in a whisper as her gaze lazily moved from his mug to his eyes.

Five let out a nervous chuckle, almost forgetting how to breathe. What is she doing? She's... Different. Were the only things in his confused mind. Her words, the way she was holding herself, her body so close to him. It made him feel uneasy, and yet he wanted her even closer.

"Are you drunk?" Was the only thing he could say without losing his composure.

That made Y/N finally go back to her normal self as she let out a genuine laugh and walked away from him, back to sit on the couch. Apparently very amused with the way she made him feel.

Five sighed as he shook his head at her. This girl. He slowly followed her steps, sitting beside her on the couch, putting a reasonable distance between them. His mug firmly in his hand.

"No. But I am exhausted, which is... Basically the same thing" Y/N said, once Five made himself comfortable beside her.

Five brought his mug to his lips and took a sip, a small smile on his face. "You're weird".

That made Y/N fully turn her body to him, sitting sideways on the couch. She faked an offended expression and said "excuse me sir. Compared to you and your family I'm the definition of normal". Without even finishing, Y/N was already laughing.

Five chuckled and looked down at his lap to his half-empty coffee mug. "Fair enough" he whispered to her. Y/N made him feel incredibly light, free. But his mind always went back to the same place, playing cruel tricks on him. You don't deserve this. It's not real. How would she like someone like you? Those were the thoughts that often came to Five's head whenever he felt like letting her in. Just like now.

It all still hurts so much, and he's not even sure why. He wants her company so badly, and he has it now. So why does it feel like someone is squeezing his chest?

To Five it was nothing but confused emotions. But the truth is that he craves all of this so much. The touch, the conversation, the connection with someone real. That he's terrified that it isn't real, that in the blink of an eye everything will just end and she'll leave. Or worse, die. He felt alone for so long and now she was making him feel cared for, she was giving him everything he craved for so long and he just wanted it to be... Real. But what if this was all in his head and in one wrong movement or word he drove her away?

And it all made Five feel so overwhelmed all of a sudden. His mouth became dry, his throat felt annoyingly tight. That he missed the small tear that scaped his eye and made its way down his cheek.

But Y/N noticed. She noticed how his hands holding the mug started to tremble, how his breathing was fast and shallow, and how his eyes remained on his mug, but his stare was so lost and far away. Y/N was familiar with anxiety and panic attacks, and maybe this wasn't exactly the case here, but it was definitely something along those lines.

So the girl carefully took the mug from his hands and placed it on the coffee table. Then, ever so gently, she sat a little closer to Five. His face looked troubled and his eyes were glossy with tears in them. It broke her heart to see him like this. Y/N slowly brought her hand up and brushed away the one tear that had fallen on his soft cheek.

Her touch made Five finally turn in her direction and be aware of what just happened. He was about to full-on panic because he just cried in front of Y/N. His whole body tensed and he was preparing himself to teleport away or just make a run for it. But then her hand remained there for the next couple of seconds, her thumb lazily caressing his cheek, a kind smile on her lips. And he couldn't bring himself to move a muscle.

Y/N could visibly see the exact moment he came back to reality and realized what happened, and only when she saw that he wasn't going to disappear on her, that she removed her hand from him. She could tell he felt vulnerable right now and it was obvious this wasn't a common feeling for him. The entire way he was portraying himself right now was totally uncharacteristic of him, and Y/N knew that. Hence why he looked like he had seen a ghost. She wasn't going to ask why he was suddenly like this, it wasn't her place to pry.

The living room was still partially dark, making them both feel shielded from the real world.

"Have I ever told you the story about this scar?" Y/N's voice had a very low tone, only for him to hear and to not break the intimate aura of the room. Five's body was still tense, feeling himself lost as he had no idea what to do with himself now. But he looked down at her hand.

Y/N showed him the scar that had hunted her for many years. It wasn't big, it ran from the end of her palm and just some inches past her wrist, and it was clear that it was from being burned.

Her voice remained gentle as she said "I got it from the night that I lost my parents". The girl looked up at Five with a sad smile on her face. He met her eyes as well, his lip would occasionally quiver but his eyes looked more focused already. Y/N's attempt to drive his mind away from whatever it was that was bothering him was working.

"There was a fire in our house, it spread quickly. I was just... A little girl, terrified, I had no idea what was happening." Y/N furrowed her brows as she vaguely remembered that night. Five's attention was almost fully on her again.

"I could hear people arguing, fighting. Then my mom... She found me and told me to run, as fast as I could. I didn't want to leave her, but I did. While I was getting out I... Burned my hand, at the time I was so scared that I didn't even felt it." Now it was her eyes that were filling with tears. But before they could spill, she felt a feather-like touch tracing her scar. The fact that Five was willingly reaching out to her sent a shiver running down Y/N's spine.

Brushing her tears away, she continued "the- the day after, I found out that my parents had died. So, from then on my aunt raised me. Every day I would ask myself the same question 'why didn't my mother run away with me'?" Y/N chuckled. "Guess I'll never know".

She rested her head on the back of the couch, her eyes looking at Five in an adoring way. He looked calmer, which made a small smile come up to her face.

Five gulped. "I'm sorry about that" he said with a wavering voice. He felt ashamed, vulnerable, and confused. But he felt no desire to leave her, on the contrary, he carefully moved his hand down from her wrist and grabbed her hand properly. His grip was unsure, afraid even, but he remained there anyway. His eyes frantically searching her face for any signs of disapproval, but he only found... Affection. That made his eyes water all over again.

"Me too" Y/N said in a barely audible whisper. She gripped his hand tighter, and with a smile, leaned her head down to rest on Five's shoulder. "We'll be okay, Five" with this last whisper, the girl closed her tired eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Five took a shaky breath, wondering what to do. After some seconds of looking around the room and debating with himself whether or not he should be there, he decided to let himself have this one night. His touch-starved body needed this more than he would ever care to admit. His fears and insecurities disappeared for now, and the only thing he could feel was her. Her hand holding his, her body pressed close to him, and her steady breath on his neck. Slowly, he nuzzled his face on her hair. Closing his eyes, more tears fell. He wasn't sure why, he never was, but now he was too tired to think about it.

Five didn't have any nightmares that night.

When Y/N woke up the next day, she was laying in a very uncomfortable position on the couch. Alone. Rubbing her eyes the girl got up and looked around the empty room, the events of last night slowly making their way back to her brain.

The girl made her way to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water when suddenly a blue light appeared and almost made her drop her glass. "Jesus Five" Y/N muttered while cleaning the drops of water she spilled on herself.

Five didn't expect her to be up already, his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her. The... Moment they shared last night made him confused about where their relationship stood, it also made him think if he had crossed any boundaries by staying with her for the night. He thought about why she decided to stay with him too, why would she? He clenched and unclenched his fists in his pockets in anxiousness. He felt so much, and he felt that his control was slipping from him more each passing day.

Putting her glass down, Y/N made her way to him. "Did you sleep well?" A small smile making it's way to her face, testing the waters.

Five met her eyes and gulped down his feelings. "We need to go see Luther". And with that, he turned around and left.

Y/N chuckled. Okay, so we're not talking about it.

"Sure" she adjusted her clothes and followed Five outside.

***

Thank you for reading ♥ the next part should be out soon. And if you have any idea about how this story should progress or anything you would like to see in it, please send me an ask or message and I’d be happy to include it. All opinions and feedback are appreciated ♥

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[jjoutermaybanks]

Electric Love || JJ Maybank x Reader

part one part two part three

summary: you’re the newest member of the pogues, a girl living with one foot in the rich life and one foot in the risky life. you fit right in with the crew, especially the charismatic, annoyingly attractive JJ. how will a drunken night of deep conversation and a dreaded summer party change your friendship forever?

word count: 5k

warnings: slight harassment

*not my gif, credit to owner*

PART TWO

You woke up the next morning on a couch.  A familiar couch, you realized, as you ran your fingers along rips and frays you’ve felt hundreds of times before.  Slowly sitting up, your head throbbed with the painful aftermath of last night’s alcoholic endeavors.  With blurry vision and a sore throat, you glanced around the living room of the Chateau, John B.’s rundown house you often found yourself in.

“Morning, princess.”  The voice belonged to JJ, who was behind the couch cooking something in the kitchen.  You craned your neck to spot him, taking in his shirtless torso and relaxed posture.  John B. leaned on the counter beside him, peering doubtfully at whatever JJ was cooking.  It smelled slightly burnt, and you wrinkled your nose.

Groaning, you pressed your hands to your eyes and rubbed away the residual drowsiness there.  “How did I get here?” you grumbled, completely spacing on how you ended up at the Chateau after the beach party.  The last thing you remembered was warming up with JJ after the swim and contemplating your feelings about him.  Everything after that was a total blank.

“You don’t remember?” John B. asked.  “The party was getting boring and most people had left, so we decided to dip.  You were so drunk we knew going home wasn’t an option, so we brought you here.  Kie and Pope are in the other room sleeping still.”

You nodded; this made sense.  You’d told your mom to expect you home late or not at all since you’d probably be sleeping over somewhere.  You only wished you hadn’t blacked out so you could enjoy the rest of the party with your friends.

Getting to your feet, you crossed the room and found a hoodie which you gladly pulled over your freezing upper body.  A crop top and shorts wasn’t the most comfortable outfit to fight a hangover, but this oversized hoodie would definitely help.

As you wandered into the kitchen, JJ turned and smirked at you.  “Wearing my hoodie, huh?  Looks good on you, Y/N.”  You gave him a small smile as you glanced into his pan, frowning at the blob-like mess you saw there.

“This is cooking to you?” you joked, taking in the random ingredients littering the counter.  A bottle of maple syrup was leaking onto the countertop and you swiped a finger across the golden brown liquid, licking your finger happily as the sweetness bloomed on your tongue.  JJ’s gaze lingered on your mouth as you cleaned off the syrup, his hand working to flip whatever was in the pan.

“Yes, in fact, it is,” he fired back, dumping the contents of the pan onto a plate.  “Feel free to enjoy Chef JJ’s world-renowned pancakes.”

Raising your eyebrows, you picked up the “pancake” with your fingers and held it in front of your face, inspecting the lopsided shape and burnt sides.  Your only response was a disbelieving expression which made JJ scoff.

“Come on, I tried.  Besides we didn’t have a waffle-maker, so I had to change my plans.”  He wiped his hands on a towel and threw it over his shoulder, hands on his hips as he pretended to scowl at you.

Tearing a piece off the pancake, you plopped it into your mouth and were surprised at the edible quality.  “You were gonna make me waffles?” you questioned, remembering vaguely how you told him about your dad’s infamous waffles last night.  JJ nodded.

“Yeah, thought it’d be good hangover food.”  His explanation was casual, and you weren’t sure what you expected.  For him to admit he made it just for you, because he wanted to show you how much he cared about you?  That he appreciated you opening up to him?  But you knew JJ, and he wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type.  Waffles were definitely just waffles to him, not symbolic of anything deeper.

Soon enough Kiara and Pope joined you all in the kitchen, and JJ cranked out enough pancakes to feed the whole lot.  It was a real Pogue breakfast, and you spent the morning laughing and chatting with your best friends.  Around noon, Kiara mentioned that she had to leave to meet her parents before the big event tonight.

“What big event?” you asked her.  The only big event you knew about was the beach party last night.

Kiara gave you a puzzled look.  “Don’t you remember?  The Midsummers party?  It’s tonight, and I have a stupid luncheon with my parents and the club committee members before they start getting ready for it.”

When she said the words Midsummers party you remembered exactly what was happening.  Your mother had told you about it weeks ago, in a fit of excitement and nervous giggles.  She’d apparently worked her butt off to get access to the exclusive club, since not being an official Kook made things difficult.  But apparently she’d kissed enough asses and pulled enough strings to score an invite for you, and she’d even gone out and bought special dresses for the occasion.  You’d been dreading it for so long you must have pushed it fully out of your mind, but now you remembered exactly how much you didn’t want to go.

Upon seeing your reaction, Kiara laughed.  “Trust me girl, I’m not excited either.  But you me and Sarah are all going, so we can make it fun.”

“And me,” John B. added with a hint of an embarrassed blush.  He wasn’t used to the perks of dating Sarah Cameron yet.  “I’m going with Sarah as a plus one.”

A lightbulb went off in your mind, and you broke into a grin.  “That’s it!  We can bring Pope and JJ as plus ones!  It’ll definitely make the night more bearable.”  Being surrounded by Kooks for a whole night was never going to be fun, but with the Pogues all there together it would be more than tolerable.

JJ looped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.  “Aw, you want me to go as your date?  I’m touched.”  His sparkling eyes made you roll yours, and you pushed him off lightly.

“As much as I hate to admit it, you make everything better,” you told him, and his smile only widened.  “I think it’s a great idea, what do you guys think?”

Pope looked thrilled at the prospect of accompanying Kiara to a fancy party, and even she had a flush on her cheeks.  “You guys ready to go full Kook?” Kiara challenged, and Pope and JJ both pretended to salute.

“I’m ready, sergeant,” Pope joked.  “Send me into the battle zone.”

Satisfied with the morning’s accomplishments, you stated, “Okay, so let’s all meet up beforehand.  Kie, Sarah and I were gonna go to yours anyway, so should the guys meet us there too?”

“Sure thing.  Make sure to dress nice, you guys,” she said pointedly, directing her stern gaze to Pope, JJ, and John B.  John B. threw his hands up in defense.

“Trust me, Sarah’s had my outfit planned for months.”

Pope and JJ met each other’s gazes and sighed.  “Guess we have to clean up for once, dude,” JJ said gravely.  “It’s a shame I have no idea how to tie a tie, though.”

You rolled your eyes.  “I’ll do it for you, you big baby.”

JJ grinned, shooting you a naughty look.  “Any excuse to have your hands on my neck is a good excuse,” he taunted, and you shoved at his bare chest.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.  I’ve gotta go meet my mom, alright?  Be at Kiara’s 6 o’clock sharp.”  With one last threatening glare, you and Kiara strode out of the Chateau and immediately launched into a conversation about how stupid the party was going to be.

Going home was never something you looked forward to.  Your relationship with your mom was neutral at best, and when things like the Midsummers party came around it only drove a deeper wedge between the two of you.  She was a desperate social climber and you wanted nothing to do with the Kooks, so naturally you didn’t get along.  On top of that was the history with your dad, and you knew your mother had never gotten over him the way you have.

“I’m home,” you called, closing the door to your mid-sized, fairly modest new home.  It wasn’t up to Kook standard, but it was way better than the shacks that JJ and John B. lived in.  It felt weird having a foot in each world, and you often felt like you didn’t fit in anywhere.

Your mother burst out of her room and approached you with a breathless smile.  In her arms was the dress.  She’d bought it for you the second she found out you two were able to attend the party, and to say you weren’t looking forward to wearing it was an understatement.  It wasn’t ugly by any means, but you were a shorts and tee shirt kind of girl, not a prissy dress girl.

“There are heels on your bed,” your mother informed you, handing you the dress like it was a baby.  “Try it on--I made a few alterations.”  You forced a smile, not wanting to upset your mother despite your revulsion to the whole evening.  She was excited, and you didn’t want to put a damper on it.

Closing the door to your room, you examined the cursed dress.  It was the palest of blues, made out a slippery chiffon material that a light breeze would easily blow around your feet.  The neckline was a deep sweetheart and the straps were thin, and holding the dress up against you you saw how the color made you look incredibly tan.

You also noticed you still had JJ’s hoodie on, and smiled in the mirror.  It fell to your mid-thigh, almost like a dress itself, and you imagined what it would be like to wear this to the party instead.  JJ would be knocked dead for sure, and you wished you could see the look on his face when you walked in.  

What am I doing? you thought, your smile falling into a frown.  You had these recurring thoughts about JJ all the time, and you definitely knew he was more than a friend.  So why did you jokingly push him away whenever he made advances on you?  Why didn’t you just let him kiss you like you secretly wanted?

Sighing, you pulled off his sweatshirt and folded it neatly on the bed.  You’d give it back to him at Kiara’s, it would be wrong to keep it.  And you pushed all thoughts of kissing JJ out of your mind too; what you needed now was a friend, and JJ was your very best friend.  Kissing was not something best friends did.

After discarding the rest of your clothes you slipped into the dress, surprised at how light and airy the material was and the way it hugged your body.  You rejoined your mother in the living room and she zipped it up for you, stepping back to get a full view.

“Oh, sweetie,” she exclaimed, tears pricking at her eyes.  “You look beautiful.”

Your face beet red from embarrassment, you mustered a smile and turned once in the dress.  “It’s pretty, Mom,” you replied, saying it more to boost her ego than anything.

“Well, I have splendid taste,” she bragged, and you grit your teeth before disappearing back into your room to take the overly girly dress off.

The day could not go by quick enough, and after waiting for what felt like forever it was finally time to go to Kiara’s.  With your dress and makeup bag in tow, you said a quick goodbye to your mother before departing.  She made you promise to find her at the party so she could “introduce you to some friends”, which really just meant she wanted you to get in the good graces of some stuck-up Kook parents.

Getting ready at Kiara’s was just as much as fun as getting ready at Sarah’s last night.  You had good music to drown out any worries, and the three of you helped with makeup and jewelry as you awaited the guys’ arrival.

“Seriously, getting John B. to even try on dress clothes was nearly impossible,” Sarah pouted.  “I know I’m a Pogue now, but can you blame a girl for loving a little dress up?”

Kiara laughed, shaking her head.  “I just can’t imagine any of those guys in anything but ripped tank tops and board shorts.”

“Five bucks JJ shows up in just that,” you challenged, grinning in the small mirror in front of you as you swiped on some highlight.  Some subtle lip gloss, mascara, and highlight was all you decided to wear.  Kiara had woven flower crowns for the three of you and as you placed it atop your head, your transformation was complete.  You’d gone from full Pogue to full princess, with a crown to boot.  Scowling at your reflection, you stood up and fidgeted with the dress.

“I feel so stupid,” you admitted, wobbling slightly in the heels your mother had bought you.  

“Same here,” Kiara echoed, glaring down at her purple dress and smoothing the silky material over her waist.  Sarah looked like a goddess in her off-the-shoulder white dress, and smiled like she was Miss America or something.

“You both look beyond gorgeous, shut up,” she reprimanded.  “Pope and JJ are going to lose their minds.”

Biting your lip, you suppressed a smile.  Secretly you couldn’t wait to see what JJ thought of how you looked.  Would he hate it since it was so not your style?  Would he think Kiara or Sarah was way prettier and decide to flirt with them instead?  Nerves began twisting in your stomach as 6 o’clock grew closer and closer.

Finally it came, and in burst the trio of boys.  The suit that Sarah had chosen for John B. made him look slick, almost like James Bond.  His hair was just as wild as ever though, and she fretted over the brown locks as he kissed her freshly painted lips.

Pope looked suave as well, saying he had worn his special scholarship outfit.  Someone had already done his tie for him, because he was pulling at his neck and frowning.  Kiara straightened it for him and grinned, seeming to forget her annoyance at the party once Pope arrived.

JJ was the most disheveled of them all, but he managed to pull it off in the sexiest way.  A white button down was haphazardly tucked into black slacks, the sleeves pushed up his forearms.  A matching black vest was thrown over top, and what looked like a floral bow tie was hanging off of his neck, sloppily done by whoever attempted to tie it.  Despite the messiness of his appearance, he looked good.  His hair was pushed off his forehead and his hands were buried inside his pockets, almost like he was nervous.

Then his eyes landed on you, and his jaw practically hit the floor.  You blushed at his obvious ogling, feeling shy as he clearly checked you out.  You suddenly hoped the dress looked pretty and that your makeup wasn’t awful.  Under JJ’s gaze, you felt more vulnerable than ever.

“Wow” was all he managed to say, still stricken with disbelief.  “And I thought you looked hot in my hoodie.”

Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, you smiled and took a few steps towards him.  Your hands went to the bow tie at his throat, and JJ instantly tensed at your close proximity.

“Someone really butchered this poor thing,” you told him, biting your lip as you attempted to retie it in an acceptable way.  JJ inhaled deeply, clearly trying to control himself as your fingers ghosted against his neck.

“Wanted to look good for you, babe,” he murmured into your ear, making heat spread out through your body.  Looking up at him through your lashes, you finished tying the bow and leaned back to examine your handiwork.

“You kind of look like a waiter,” you admitted, and JJ snorted.

“As if the Kooks would trust me with their precious sparkling cider,” he mocked.

You raised one eyebrow, folding your arms.  “You know, you look a lot like a Kook right now,” you chuckled, causing JJ to pretend to freak out and mess up his hair.  

“Never!  I am a Pogue for life,” he swore.  “Although, if being a Kook means I get to see you like this more often, sign me up.”

You looked down at your dress, cocking your head.  “Do I...look better like this?  Better than I do normally?”  For a second you worried that JJ liked you better all dolled up, and once you were natural and comfy again he wouldn’t find you pretty anymore.

Leaning against one forearm on the wall, JJ gave you a genuine smile.  “Of course not.  I love when you’re natural.”

Beaming at his praise, you laced your fingers through his and turned to the group.  “Are we ready to do this thing?” you voiced, feeling a little giddy about the party.  There was no way it wouldn’t be fun with this crowd.

Kiara straightened her flower crown and nodded.  “Ready.”

The party was in full swing when you all arrived.  Classical music drifted out of speakers mounted on the Island Club walls, and fancily dressed adults mingled with flutes of champagne in hand.  You spotted your mother attempting to infiltrate a large group of Kooks, and ducked out of view so she couldn’t see you.

Two familiar figures were striding by, and you scowled upon recognizing Topper and Rafe.  “Didn’t know we hired Pogues as the help,” Rafe mocked, giving JJ a sneering look.  “If I want a refill of my champagne, can I ask you to get it?”

You felt JJ brace beside you, and squeezed his hand slightly to calm him down.  He glanced over at you, and you gave him an encouraging smile.  JJ blowing up and hitting someone was not ideal, so you knew it was your job to keep his temper under control.

The Pogues dispersed as Sara dragged John B. to talk to some of her Kook friends and Kiara was roped into a large group with Pope by her side.  Now it was just you and JJ wandering through the party, and you felt extremely uncomfortable.  Kooks were giving you sidelong glances with steely, judgmental eyes.  They didn’t think you belonged there, and truthfully neither did you.  You weren’t one of them, and having JJ on your arm wasn’t helping your image either.  You weren’t ashamed of him, just very conscious of how it looked to be seen with someone like him.

“Look at that lady’s headpiece,” JJ hissed into your ear, pointing to a woman in a loud red dress and an even louder headpiece.  Sharp golden rods like spears shot out of a circle above her head, making her look like the demon sun or something.  You giggled into your hand, not wanting to alert anyone that you were making fun of guests.  JJ continued pointing out awfully dressed attendees, and you spent the next few minutes gaping at some truly dreadful outfits.

He managed to swipe some champagne and presented you with a glass.  Pretending to curtsy, you accepted the drink and downed it in one quick sip.  JJ whistled, copying your actions and draining his glass.

“Am I gonna have to carry you home again, Y/L/N?” he asked.  “Not that I’m opposed, of course.”

“Shut up,” you retorted.  “Champagne won’t get me drunk.  I don’t think.”

He snorted.  “Yeah sure, whatever you say lightweight.”  You socked his arm and he laughed as he tried to avoid the hits, grabbing your hand to stop you from smacking him.  Closing his fingers around yours, JJ led you through the crowd and onto the makeshift dance floor.  Other couples were slow dancing to the song on the speakers, and JJ placed his hands on your hips when you found a space of your own on the floor.

“Are we seriously slow dancing?” you questioned, looping your arms around his neck and laughing.  “This is so gross.”

“Just sway to the music, Y/N.  Let your body take over.”  He closed his eyes and gripped your waist, causing warmth to seep through the skin where he touched you.  Gazing up at JJ’s face, you imagined what would happen if you actually let your body take over right now.  

Apparently your body wanted to kiss him, because you naturally leaned in close until your lips almost brushed his.  JJ realized what you were doing and fluttered his eyes open, parting his lips to meet yours.  Just when you were about to connect, someone tapped your shoulder and shattered the moment.

Grimacing, you separated from JJ and turned to see your mother frowning at you.  “Y/N,” she scolded.  “You were supposed to find me!  I want you to meet people!”

Holding onto JJ for support, you bit your lip and shrugged.  “Can’t I just stay with my friends?”

“No, I got you into this party to mingle, so that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”

Sighing, you disconnected from JJ and cast him a rueful glance.  He gave you a sad smile, regret swimming in his ocean blue eyes.  You wished you could stay with him for the whole night, but your mother began dragging you away and towards a crowd of judgmental Kooks.

For the next half hour you were stuck pretending to engage in a conversation with the most boring people on the planet.  Everything those people said made you want to roll your eyes, but you resisted for your mother’s sake.  Rafe was part of the conversation, and his eyes never left your face the whole time.

After a while when the conversation dwindled, you saw Rafe gesture for you to follow him.  Begrudgingly, you complied.  Anywhere was better than that boring group.  He walked over to a quieter part of the party, where only a few people were around.

“So,” Rafe began, looking at you up and down.  “How are you enjoying the party?”

Your smile was pinched.  You didn’t know how to act around Rafe; making a Kook mad was never a good idea, but acting nice would take all of your effort.  You chose to be humorous, and answered, “It’s wonderful, I haven’t wanted to gouge my eyes out once.”

He gave an odd chuckle at this, making you shift on your feet.  “Midsummers is particularly horrifying because of all the...what do you even call those headpieces?” he wondered, and you chuckled when he pointed to the woman you and JJ had mocked earlier.

“She could probably kill someone with that,” you stated, feeling a little awkward joking around with Rafe.  He definitely wasn’t the kind of guy you’d choose to hang around, but getting on his bad side would only make your life harder.  It was best to play along with him until he got bored and left.

Rafe looked at you closely, and you smiled to ease some of the tension you felt.  “You know, you’re pretty funny.”  You blushed at his compliment, and he continued.  “I always thought you were too good for those Pogues you hang out with,” 

“Your sister is one of those Pogues,” you pointed out, trying to joke about it.

His expression turned sour at the mention of Sarah.  “My sister is a lost cause ever since John B. manipulated her into loving him.”

You blinked, surprised at the malice in his tone.  Your smile faltered a little but you made sure to keep it up in fear of upsetting him.  When you stayed quiet, Rafe crossed his arms and smirked.  “You on the other hand have potential.”

“Potential?” you asked innocently, and something about your light tone pleased Rafe as he stepped closer to you.

“I think there’s still time to save you from the dark side,” he said lowly, suddenly raising a hand to rest on your cheek.  Before you knew what was happening, he had leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.  You were so shocked you didn’t move at first, merely held your mouth against his as he tried to deepen the kiss.  Lifting a hand to his arm, you tried to push him off but he was stronger than you.

“Don’t fight it, baby,” he murmured against your mouth, grabbing the small of your back to bring you closer to him.  Gagging, you used your other hand to push at his chest until you could tear your mouth away, breathing shakily as you separated.

As you stared incredulously up at Rafe, you spotted a familiar figure a few meters behind him.  JJ stood completely still, his expression full of shock and hurt.  Reacting immediately, you shoved Rafe off and stumbled over to him, grabbing onto JJ’s arm as you stuttered out an explanation.

“He just kissed me, I don’t--”

“It didn’t look like you were trying to stop it,” he snapped, voice cold all of a sudden.  Your eyes widened, watering at his harsh tone.

“I-I swear, I didn’t want to be talking to him, he approached me!”

“So why did I see you smiling and laughing at every word he fucking said?” JJ countered, eyes glinting with fury.  “If you wanted to mack on a Kook, you should’ve just told me.”

Your jaw dropped, and suddenly it became hard to breathe.  “JJ, I...”

“Forget it,” he muttered, pushing his hair out of his face in aggravation.  “If you wanna mack on a Kook, then so can I.”  With this, he stalked away from you and towards a cluster of pretty rich girls.  They burst into giggles when he approached them, probably excited to live out a bad-boy fantasy.  JJ was a natural charmer, and within minutes he had a particularly pretty brunette attached to him.

All of the breath was knocked out of you, and it was hard to stand up.  You didn’t know what hurt more; JJ’s refusal to believe you, his best friend, or how quickly he sidled up to that brunette Kook and was already giving her the eyes he saved for just you.  You felt sick to your stomach, and gripped your arms tightly as you wove through the throng of party-goers, desperate to find another one of your friends.

John B.’s signature tousled hair was spotted standing alone towards the edge of the crowd, sipping champagne and regarding the guests with a disgusted look on his face.  You followed his gaze and saw he was watching Sarah who was chatting up a storm with half a dozen Kook girls that giggled so loudly you could hear them across the room.

“Hey, Y/N,” John B. sighed once you approached.  “I know I’m a terrible boyfriend and should be with Sarah but...I swear to God, I can’t listen to those girls right now.”  He looked to you for approval, almost as if you would’ve disapproved.  But then he caught on to your pained expression, and immediately changed disposition.  “What happened?  Why are you crying?”

You hadn’t realized there were tears staining your cheeks, and as you went to wipe them away a choked sob escaped your lips.  “It’s JJ,” you started, bottom lip trembling as more tears threatened to come.  “He saw Rafe kiss me a-and got mad because he thought I liked it, and then h-he left to go flirt with some stupid Kook girl.”  The words were barely audible over the sound of your crying, but John B. understood you perfectly.

“Wait--Rafe kissed you?  Against your will?”  Anger had seeped into his tone, and you briefly recalled how passionately John B. reacted when his friends were in trouble.

“I-I don’t know, we were talking and I didn’t want to make him angry so I pretended to smile and laugh a-and he just kissed me.  I swear I tried to push him off, but he was so strong it probably looked like I wasn’t trying at all.”  You pressed your fists to your forehead, frustrated with yourself.  “JJ didn’t even listen to me.”

John B.’s face was grave, and he peered around the club trying to spot JJ.  Sure enough, you could both see him clear as day: he had his hands around the brunette, leaning close to her ear and whispering something that caused her to giggle.  Their closeness made you want to throw up, and you forced yourself to look away.

“Rafe is an asshole, and I swear the next time I see him I’ll make him regret ever even speaking to you,” John B. vowed, his serious tone making you laugh morosely.  All you could do was nod as you imagined JJ and that Kook getting closer and closer, maybe even falling in love.  You had to admit, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.  JJ might have said he despised the Kooks, but you knew there was a part of him that was crazy jealous.  He had to scrape by just to live, and with an abusive father thrown on top of it.  If that Kook girl could offer him a safe life of luxury, you knew he’d jump at the chance.

You also knew you could never give him what he needed.  You couldn’t protect him from his father; you could barely sustain a tolerable relationship with your mother.  And as for giving him a better life, you didn’t have that kind of money or resources.  You were the outsider, the painfully average girl that was just lucky enough to become friends with the Pogues.  JJ deserved better than you, and it was time you admit this.

“It’s okay,” you finally declared, half for John B. and half for yourself.  “JJ can do whatever he wants.  He’s not mine.”  This last part was said quietly, and you didn’t even know if John B. heard.  He’s not yours.  It was the cruel truth; as much as your feelings for JJ had grown recently, and as much as you wanted him to just kiss you already, you knew he wasn’t yours to have.  And at this rate, he never would be.

[fandom-heaux]

Merry Pitchmas

@emilyjunk Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I present to you **drumroll**  your (slightly) fluffy Bemily Christmas oneshot! Hope you enjoy 💕

Dec. 5th

All Steamed Up was by far Beca’s favorite coffee shop. It was pretty much always vacant, save for the morning crowd. The staff was nice enough to treat her with respect, but not enough to talk her to death. And it had just the right amount of hipster energy, whatever that meant. Regardless, it was the perfect place for her to comfortably work on her music in peace. However, with the holidays fastly approaching, she was getting increasingly annoyed with how festive the place was becoming.

Beca looked up from her unofficial designated seat in the corner of the cafe at the line baristas behind the counter. They were all wearing some type of Christmas headdress, whether it be a sparkly santa hat or some glittery ass antlers. She thought they all looked fucking ridiculous, especially since she was not too fond of Christmas time.

Just then, an almost model-esque girl came dashing from the back room, still in the middle of tying her apron. If Beca could recall correctly, she started seeing this girl around the shop about a month ago. She wasn’t sure what it was about today, but she couldn’t help but notice a few things about her. She was incredibly tall, towering over a majority of her coworkers. She was absolutely stunning, her long brown hair flowing down her back as she worked meticulously. And, at the moment, there was no sign of Christmas anywhere on her tall frame. Could it be that she wasn’t all that much of a Christmas fan either? 

“Beca?”

When the girl she had just been ogling called her name, Beca’s eyes widened, partly from embarrassment and partly from confusion. It took her a little too long to remember that she had ordered a drink and that the girl was just doing her job. Beca slipped the bulky headphones from around her neck, stood up and made her way to the front counter.

The tall girl sent a very charming smile down at Beca as she accepted her cup. “One vanilla chai latte for you, Beca. Enjoy!”

“Thanks uh…” Beca glanced at the girl’s shiny gold name tag, “Emily.”

Beca glanced back up at the girl and tilted her head to the side.

“How come you aren’t wearing any corny christmas headgear? Not a fan of the holidays either?” Beca wasn’t sure why she felt the need to ask. Part of the reason she didn’t mind coming all the way to this specific coffee shop was because no one bothered her. But maybe, just maybe, it was worth changing that little ideology. It couldn’t hurt to have an associate here, especially if they shared a dislike for this overly cheery holiday. It’d be one less thing she’d have to explain about herself.

However, Emily seemed slightly taken aback. She reached up to her bare head before nervously chuckling. “What? No I love Christmas! It’s actually a funny story. You see, I had to rush out of the house this morning cause my stupid alarm didn’t want to go off. And then I remembered that I had run out of cereal last night, so I had to stop for breakfast because hello, most important meal of the day. Anyways, long story short, I totally forgot to grab my elf ears amidst all the cha-”

Beca’s free hand was splayed out in front of the girl, gesturing for her to stop. And she couldn’t see her own face, but she already knew that her emotions were written all over it. She hadn’t exactly meant to be rude, she was just so over this story before it had really even began. She had misread the girl’s lack of Christmas attire as a lack of Christmas spirit, and it was her fault.

“A-alright, I get it. Thanks for the drink.” And with that, she was back off to her corner of solitude.

… 

Dec. 8th

Emily was taking her time walking to work. She knew she ought to hurry up since she was almost late (again), but multitasking truly wasn’t her strong suit. So between rushing to work or sorting through what was on her mind, she chose the latter. 

Emily just couldn’t get that small grungy girl out of her head. “Not a fan of Christmas either?” Either? Did that mean the girl didn’t like Christmas? Who doesn’t like Christmas??

Emily couldn’t wrap her head around it. Christmas was the most wonderful time of the year. You had the chance to spend the day with family and friends, some of whom you haven't seen all year. The holidays encouraged happiness and true joy which was so important, especially since the winter season already provoked sadness. And of course she couldn’t forget about the presents.

So that girl, what was her name, Beca? She would have to be a real Scrooge to not like being apart of something like that.

Arriving at the coffee shop brought Emily out of her thoughts. She headed around back and slipped in through the back door, hoping no one would notice she was late (again). Finally making her way behind the counter, Emily looked over to the corner of the cafe where she normally saw Beca taking up residence. She smiled to herself when she saw the girl sitting there with huge headphones over her ears and a macbook parked on her lap. 

Emily had to admit, she liked seeing the girl around so often, but this not-liking-christmas-thing threw her for a complete loop.

During her break, Emily tentatively walked over to Beca’s table and took a seat across from her. She sighed before saying, “Why don’t you like Christmas? You look like such a nice girl and I can’t understand why you or anyone else wouldn’t find this time of year to be as magical as it is. It just doesn’t make sense to me. So can you, you know, help me understand?”

The entire time she spoke, she had been looking down at her hands and fiddling with the frayed end of her work apron. When she peered up at the girl who still had yet to say something, she noticed those headphones and mentally slapped herself. She couldn’t even hear her.

Emily lamely waved her hand at the girl, trying to her attention. When the girl in question slipped her headphones off her ears, she was all wide eyed and confused. Emily thought she looked cute.

“Hey uh, B-Beca? I just... wanted to ask you why you don’t like Christmas?” She finally asked her question, but felt a bit silly afterward. She didn’t know this girl from the next, and yet she felt so inclined to talk to her? Emily shrugged. How else does one make a new friend? 

“Uh… Capitalism?”

“Oh. Seriously?”

Beca laughed a little. “I mean, partly, yeah. Why does it matter to you anyway?” 

“Well, you’re the one who brought up this whole thing! I just want to understand.” 

“Alright alright, lighten up dude. I didn’t realize this was such a serious topic for you.”

Beca sat up a little straighter and looked upon Emily with weary eyes.

“I don't know dude, Christmas has pretty much always been a sore subject for me. As a kid I could sense the pressure that the holidays put on my parents. It made the actual holiday feel forced, you know? And then they split up and that just made Christmas lonely as hell. One year would be spent with my mom and her resentment. The next year I'd be sheltered up with my dad and his girlfriend that came from literally nowhere. But, even with all the crap that came with my mom, I still liked being around her more. And then she got sick and I could no longer visit her. And now she’s-” Beca suddenly stopped talking, her eyes cast towards the ground. 

Emily was hanging on the edge of her seat. How could she be so stupid. Of course someone would end up not liking Christmas if something tragic were to happen on that day or something. It hadn’t even occurred to her that some people probably didn’t have a family to celebrate with. That some people didn’t have anyone to love.

“Now she’s what?” Stupid question. Emily immediately regretted it, but she didn’t want this moment to end. Something told her that Beca wasn’t the type to overshare and that this moment was special.

Beca cleared her throat and hardened her face, the moment of vulnerability gone as soon as it came. 

“Nothing, it doesn't matter. Just, after all of that, I don’t feel the need to celebrate this stupid holiday.”

Beca calling Christmas stupid stung a little bit, but Emily could honestly say that she understood the girl a little more. 

Emily looked down at her watch and saw that It was almost time for her to head back to work. Her shoulders shrunk at having lost the opportunity to talk more with Beca. Before she got up to leave, she reached a tentative hand out to Beca’s, grasping her softly. 

“Thank you, Beca, for sharing that with me.” With one last smile, she got up and went back to work.

… 

Dec. 19th

For the fourth time this week, Beca stepped into All Steamed Up, the overwhelming smell of coffee hitting her nose. 

On any regular day, she would beeline to her corner and set up shop, diving head first into her latest mix. And today was a regular day, truth be told. But for some reason, her pace wasn't as fast as usual. Her gaze wasn’t fixed on her spot. Instead, her eyes were scanning the cafe, subconsciously looking for that tall, annoyingly bubbly girl named Emily. 

Ever since that day when Beca had practically shared her life story with the girl, she found it easier and easier to talk to her. (Nothing nearly as serious though. Beca still wasn’t too keen on sharing those parts of herself). 

It honestly weirded her out how much she and Emily were starting to get along. When she thought about the personalities of the people she kept in her incredibly small circle, unbelievably silly and blatantly sexual held the top spots, courtesy of Fat Amy and Stacie. Super cheery and bubbly just had no room. (Well except for one Chloe B. But that's just how her best friend was. Huh. Maybe she wasn’t as non tolerant as she thought.)

Beca finally set her stuff down at her spot after not so subtly looking for Emily. She had almost given up her search when she finally spotted the girl in the far end of the room bussing tables. Relief washed over her frame as she watched the girl for a few minutes. She made no effort whatsoever to talk to the girl. It just kinda felt good to know that they were in the same room.

… 

Dec. 24th

Emily didn’t mind working the closing shift. It wasn’t her usual time, but she was more than willing to relieve the night crew of their duties and let them have a little more time to enjoy the holidays. Besides, there hadn’t been anyone in the shop for a couple of hours. 

Emily was in the middle of busying herself (by counting how many coffee beans went into making an espresso) when the door opened for the first time in a while. She hurriedly brushed the coffee beans onto the floor and put on her best smile before looking up at the late night straggler. 

“Beca?” The girl in question stopped dead in her tracks at her name being called. From what Emily could see, the girls eyes were puffy as if she had been crying. She was clearly upset.

“Uh, Emily… what are you doing here?”

“I dunno if you noticed but, I work here.” The smirk on her face took away any venom that the comment may have possessed. She and Beca had developed a pretty healthy rapport, one that consisted of teasing and maybe a little flirting. But they hadn’t gotten to the stage where Emily felt comfortable asking the girl what was wrong. So she settled with her usual tease and hoped it would cheer the other girl up.

Beca gave a half hearted smile and walked up to the bar stools in front of the counter before taking a seat.

“So, what can I get for you. The usual?”

Beca shook her head slightly before answering, “Peppermint hot chocolate?”

Emily was surprised. That was the only thing Beca had ordered off of the holiday menu the entire month of December. “Finally feeling the Christmas spirit, huh?”

Beca looked up at her behind watery eyes. “Trying to.”

Emily noticed the the girl not making an effort to joke back and realized that this was serious. She hastily abandoned her post and made her way to the neighboring bar stool. After little thought, Emily placed a hand at the small of Beca’s back. If the girl chose to open up, Emily would be right there, listening all the while.

“It was her favorite thing to drink on Christmas eve.” 

A stray tear made its way down Beca’s cheek and Emily carefully wiped it away.

“Hey, your mom would be so proud of you for carrying on this tradition. For loving the holidays and spending time with people that care about you.”

Beca let out a self deprecating laugh. “Yeah. Yeah she would be proud.”

Emily snaked her arm around Beca’s waist and the two girls just sat there, comfortable in each other’s presence. It wasn’t until Emily looked up and giggled that the silence was broken.

“What’s so funny?”

“Look at what we’re sitting under.”

Beca looked up at the ceiling and rolled her eyes. “Who the fuck puts mistletoe right there.”

“The idea was to get complete strangers at least talking with one another.”

“You know that’s kinda stupid, right?”

“But it’s working, isn't it?”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Into the Woods

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 6246

Summary: Simon is so done with his roommate's shit. Little does he know he's about to find out why Baz is being weird. Based on "Baz is a secret theatre nerd with glasses and a man bun” request.

Read on AO3

AN: I'm alive! And exhausted because work is a nightmare. Seriously, having a full time job sucks ass. But, WAYWARD SON!!!! I'M SO EXCITED!!!!! Excited and scared, but mostly excited. 2020 can't come soon enough holy shit. Anywho, hope you enjoy this little romp :D

——————————————-

Simon

“What the fuck happened to you?”

I glare at Penny as best as I can with my tired eyes. “What the fuck do you think?”

“He was pacing in your bathroom?”

I sink into the uncomfortable lecture hall bench with a sigh. “Yes, came back late then kept me up until midnight, muttering and humming to himself, again. What the fuck is he doing that requires so much talking and movement. And why does it have to be in the fucking bathroom?!”

Penny shrugs, something usually only I do. “I don’t know, Si.”

“I bet he’s summoning the Devil.”

“Simon, for the last time, he’s an arsehole, not an evil wizard.”

“You don’t have to live with him.”

Penelope sighs and keeps typing on her laptop. I assume my occasional lecture position of arms on desk and head pillowed on arms. One advantage of uni is that professors don’t give a single shit if you sleep through their classes. I know I’m probably wasting my education, but I need sleep. Because of fucking Baz.

“Good morning, Snow.” Ugh, I hate his smooth, perfect voice. I grunt in reply. “Still not a fan of speaking, hm?”

“Fuck off, Baz,” I grumble, “it’s your fault I’m like this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, completely calm as usual.

I growl, because I hate words enough when I’m awake. And I refuse to use them with him.

He doesn’t answer, the bastard, just walks off. I watch from just over my arm as he sits a few rows in front. He’s easy to spot, what with the tight green t-shirt and stupid man bun. Well, it’s not totally stupid on him. Somehow everything looks good on him. He could wear a garbage bag and still look great. Stupid good looking arsehole.

I doze on and off through the whole psych lecture. It’s not that interesting anyway. And when I wake up, Baz is right in my line of vision, and I keep looking at him. How he re-adjusts his hair every once in awhile. How he spins a pencil between his long fingers. How he lifts his glasses up and down as he looks at the screen then takes notes. Why does he have to be such a good upstanding student and make the rest of us look bad? It’s so bloody infuriating.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the lecture is over. I’m done classes, but Baz has another lecture. I can go back to my room and get a good rest.

“Hey, Si,” Penelope says as I’m gathering my things. “Still wanna study for that English exam together?”

Shit, I promised her we’d study yesterday. Guess my nap will have to wait. “Yeah sure, Pen. Not sure how much help I’ll be. I’m not exactly good at English.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll whip you into shape.” She grabs my arm, and I willingly go.

“Yeah, sure, that’s possible,” I chuckle. We head out the door, but I sneak a look behind me. Baz is talking to a group of people. Huh, that’s weird. Baz and I have been roommates for over a year, and I’ve only ever seen him hang with the same two guys, a freckled redhead and his cousin (I think.) Those two are both standing there now, but for some reason there are a bunch of other people standing around too. Who have big smiles and even bigger gestures. Does Baz have friends now? Huh, he has been out more often. Guess they don’t mind that he’s an annoyingly smart arsehole, or that he looks better than all of them.

“C’mon, Si!”

Penny tugs harder, and I rip my gaze away from Baz. I’ll think about him later.

———————————————-

The only good thing about the student centre is that the chairs are comfy. I’m pretty sure the university invested all their furniture budget into cushy armchairs. I’m certainly not complaining. Especially today, when I could sink into the comfy leather forever.

“And what were the main themes of Fahrenheit 451?” Penny asks.

“Uhhh...” I don’t open my eyes. They feel too heavy. “Books are better than people?”

“I would personally yes, but our prof would disagree. Try again.”

“Blargh.”

“Blargh?” she chuckles. “Simon, are you making up words again?”

“Yes,” I grunt, “because I’m frustrated and tired and probably going to fail all my exams.”

Penny sighs, long and heavy. “You’re not going to fail.”

“You say that because you’re trying to make me feel better because you love me,” I spit out before thinking. I’m tired and have less of a filter than usual.

She scoffs, but in an endearing way. I’m not sure how she does that. “Yes, I love you, Simon, which means I’d never lie to you. You. Are. Not. Going. To. Fail.”

I sigh, because I know she’s right. Penny actually, really believes in me. I’m glad to have her in my life. “Thanks, Pen.”

“You’re welcome. Now, just tell me one theme, please?”

I tilt my head back over the chair, closing my eyes as I try to remember what our monotone prof said. “Uh, censorship?”

“Yes! See? I told you you’d get it.”

“Thank you, Penny,” I murmur, then curl into the armchair. “Now I’m going to sleep for a thousand years.”

Penny sighs exasperatedly, but it’s still loving. “Very well. Want a mint aero bar from the vending machine?”

“Mm, yes please.” I rummage around for my wallet in my back pocket, and pull out (what I hope is) a five pound note. Penny snatches it. I hope she gives me the change.

As I’m sinking into the comfy chair, finally relaxing after hours of discomfort, something gets dropped on my head. I frown and pick up the chocolate bar. I hear Penny sit in the opposite chair.

“Hey,” she says through a mouthful of candy, “look at this.”

“Don’t wanna,” I grumble.

“Simon, open your bloody eyes.”

“Ugh, fine.” I blink my eyes open. Penny is holding a big poster. It’s covered in trees and says "Into the Woods" in fancy letters. Then it lists the school theatre and dates next week. Wait... “Pen, did you steal that off the student events board?!”

“Not important. But look! This is an awesome musical, and the drama club is doing it soon. Maybe we could go see it.”

I twist my lips together. “Hm, I don’t know...”

“C’mon, Si, we’ve both been stressed out. We need to do something fun.”

“And musical theatre performed by probably off key uni students is fun?”

She gives me a deadpan look. “Do we have enough money to do anything better?”

I let out a long sigh. “No, we don’t.”

“Exactly. Now, wanna go see some shitty musical theatre?”

I twist my lips again, fiddling with my chocolate wrapper. “I’ll think about it, Pen. I need to study more if I’m going to pass psych.”

Penelope nods in acknowledgement. “Okay, I get it. The show is next week so we’ve still got time. Now,” she flips her binder open again, “tell me the role of Clarisse in regards to Guy’s character development.”

“Ugh,” I groan, “gimme a minute.”

I put Into the Woods in the back of my mind, and once again try to remember what the fuck our professor said. It’s an annoyingly difficult task.

———————————————-

When I get back to my dorm, Baz isn’t there, again. Man, he’s really been out a lot lately. More than before.

Last year, when he wasn’t in class, he was always in the room. Either reading on his bed or working at his desk. I tried to avoid him as much as possible, because everytime I disturbed him he would glare or make some passive aggressive sarcastic comment. It became clear he didn’t like my presence. So I learned to stay out of his way, but I guess that hasn’t really been a problem lately. And...it’s weird. It’s weird him not being here.

I take a long shower, revelling in the fact that Baz won’t bang on the door and demand I not use all the hot water. After, I curl up in bed, Netflix blaring in my headphones. It’s what I need to wind down after studying. Eventually, I let myself drift off to the sounds of Brooklyn 99.

But I’m woken up again when the door swings open. I grunt but don’t open my eyes. I just listen as Baz softly shuts it, pads around the room, then enters the bathroom. Ugh, fucking hell. He’s pacing and muttering and humming again, and even though he’s quiet, it’s annoying as fuck. I turn up my volume but it’s no use. Just knowing he’s there keeps me up. His presence just overwhelms my brain all the time.

When his footsteps get louder, I know he’s back in the main room. I pull off my headphones and glare at his back.

“Can you not?” I growl.

Baz freezes, head snapping up and shoulders tensing. Guess he thought I was asleep. “Can you be more specific?”

“It’s fucking great that you’re out having fun with your friends, but your late night entrances and obsessive pacing is keeping me up. Some of us aren’t vampires and can’t stay up all night.”

“Sorry my schedule is inconvenient for you, Snow.” His voice is so neutral I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or not.

"Oh fuck off, you prick."

"Incredibly creative insults there."

Ugh, he's so quick tongued. I can't fight him usually, and certainly not when I'm so tired. I opt for grunting and rolling over. Baz quickly goes back into the bathroom to change. (Prudish prick won’t change in front of me.) God, I’m so exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. Maybe I do need a break. Something fun...

I grab my phone from where it’s sitting on the floor and send a quick text.

Simon: heyyyy y’know i think i’m down for the musical i do need a break

Penny’s reply is instantaneous. (She was probably browsing Tumblr late at night again.)

Penny: Awesome! I’ll get us tickets for the last show on Friday.

Simon: sweet :) gonna go to bed night pen

Penny: Night, Si.

I power down the phone and restart Netflix again. Baz is already in bed, his black hair fanned out against the white pillowcase. Yeah, I need a distraction. Anything to keep me from thinking about school and exhaustion. As well as the stupid, annoyingly pretty guy sleeping no more than three metres away from me.

———————————————-

“What took you so long?!”

I ran up to Penny panting, completely doubled over. Christ, my lungs are fucking burning. “Sorry...couldn’t find...phone...bus...was late...so so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Si, let’s just get in there. Curtain is in three minutes.”

She takes my sleeve and drags me inside. She’s stomping, so I know she’s really pissed. I move to hold her hand tightly, squeezing it. “I’m really sorry, Pen.”

Penny keeps stomping, but sighs and squeezes back. “I know. Let’s just get in there.”

I let out a small sigh, because I know we’re still okay.

We rush into the theatre, jittering at the ticket booth and snatching up programs as we run past the poor student volunteer. Penny quickly finds us two seats in a not that shitty place. Surprisingly, the theatre is quite packed. Huh. I wouldn’t expect this many people for a student production.

“We made it,” Penny sighs.

“Yeah,” I reply. “So much for stress free evening.”

She chuckles, almost sardonically. “Yeah, unfortunately agreed. Now shush, curtain’s coming up.”

The whole theatre gets dark, and orchestra music swells. I lean back in my chair. The curtain rises to reveal (what I think at least) is a minimal set with people on it. A few tree silhouettes in the back, a raised platform, a fake fireplace, fake counter, and a fake cow next to a stool. Everything is just so fake. Penny said I had to “suspend my disbelief”. It’s hard to pretend with such little there. This is why I like TV and movies.

All the people on stage are wearing sort of fairy tale clothes. They start singing about what they wish for. To go to a party, for a cow to have milk, and to have a baby. Christ, is this whole thing just about people wanting things? Musicals are fucking weird.

I sort of half zone out, picking up on bits and pieces of the show and dozing off. Baz has been coming back later and later all week and waking me up each time he opens the door. The theatre is dark, so it’s hard to stay awake. I fall asleep at the scene with Rapunzel and the witch, but start to stir again when Jack’s mom throws the magic beans on the ground (ha, idiot.) But since this play jumps around more than a rabbit on a sugar rush, suddenly the Baker’s Wife is walking around in the woods with the cow as Cinderella runs past. She’s running from the ball again and hides behind the Wife. A trumpet goes off as someone gallops ridiculously on stage-

Wait, is that...

“Baz!?”

Three people shush me, but I ignore them, because Baz fucking Pitch is on stage right now, hamming it up with everyone else. He’s wearing a silly outfit that reminds me of a Disney prince, with a white jacket and a red sashs and gloves. His hair is slicked back with gel, emphasizing his stark widow’s peak more than usual. He’s not wearing his glasses either. Huh. I’ve never seen him without them. He looks...good. Well, he looks good with them too, but this is just a different sort of good.

I don’t pay attention to the scene, not even listening to what they’re saying. I’m just focusing on Baz and his amazingly ridiculous appearance. Oh my god he looks so stupid, trotting his feet and flicking his hands like he’s holding reins. When he’s offstage I lean over to Penny, who’s jaw is also on the ground.

“What the hell is Baz doing here?!” I whisper.

“I...have no idea,” she replies very hushed. It’s the first time I’ve heard her admit she doesn’t know something.

The play continues, but I’m paying attention even less. I just keep waiting for Baz to show up again. I’m so jittery. My leg is shaking at lightspeed. Penny kicks my foot in an attempt to stop me but it doesn’t help. The only thing that makes it stop is seeing Baz gallop ridiculously on stage, along with Rapunzel’s Prince.

“Ah, there you are, good brother. Father and I had wondered where you had gone,” he says to Baz.

“I have been looking all night for her,” Baz replies. His voice is like it always is, smooth and commanding. Like he was born to tell people what to do. Usually I find it annoying, but right now it works. He is supposed to be a prince.

The two princes commiserate over their mutual impossible loves. They're both idiots.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel! What kind of name is that? You jest! I have never heard of such a thing,” Baz laughs out.

Rapunzel’s Prince snorts. “I speak the truth. She is as true as your maiden. A maiden running from a prince? None would run from us.”

“Yet,” Baz sighs, “she has.”

Then he starts singing, and my brain short circuits.

Holy shit. Baz is singing. And he’s singing well. His voice is a solid, smooth baritone. It reverberates through the theatre perfectly. I’m totally transfixed. Since when could Baz sing so incredibly?!

“Agony!”  He belts. “Beyond power of speech. When the one thing you want, is the only thing out of your reach.”

Holy. Shit.

I don’t realise how much I’m gaping until Penny pushes up my hanging lower jaw back up. The whole song is quite ridiculous, and Baz sings it perfectly. He looks properly agonized through it. I didn’t know he could be so expressive. He’s, just, amazing.

The songs ends, and Baz exits. I don’t pay attention, what with my mind still spinning. So, Baz, my arsehole geeky roommate, can act, and sing, and looks weirdly amazing in a stupid prince costume. Okay, that’s a lot of new info to process.

Before I know it, the lights come back on, and Penny is tugging on my sleeve.

“Simon?”

I look up at her bewildered. “What?”

“C’mon, get up, I want to stretch my legs, and we can get some snacks. I bet you’re hungry.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, that’d be great.”

I follow behind her with my hands in my hoodie pockets. While Penny goes to the snack bar, I sit on a bench. Something stabs me in my pocket. I pull out the crumpled program. Wait, Penny mentioned this week the actors have bios in the program. I furiously flip through it.

I find Baz’s picture almost immediately. It’s black and white and a bit blurry but I can still make out his face. He looks normal in it. Tight shirt, glasses falling down his nose, hair tied up. But here, he's smiling slightly. Wow, I’ve never seen him look anything other than bored or annoyed. It’s weird, but also nice. I look down at the bio.

Baz Grimm-Pitch - Cinderella’s Prince A witty English literature major with a salt and vinegar crisp addiction plays Cinderella’s arrogant love. In his spare time, Baz plays the violin, studies the development of the English language, and competes in a recreational football league. “Into the Woods” is his first dramatic production.

I chuckle under my breath. Baz really is such a nerd. Even though I already know most of this, it’s kinda...cute? I’m not sure if that’s the right word but it feels right. The little blurb is just makes him sound so adorable. I can almost forget he’s an arsehole.

“Si, you want a cookie?”

I snap my head up to glare at a smirking Penny. She waves the chocolate chip cookie tauntingly. I snatch it from her hand, making sure to glare at her while I take a huge bite. She sits down next to me and looks over at the program.

“Huh,” she says, “at least they got a good photo of Basilton.”

“Yeah,” I reply quietly. “Still can’t believe he’s in this.”

“Me neither. I thought he was just a quiet academic like me.”

“Same, but...he’s actually really good.”

“I hate to give him a victory, but yeah, he is. He’ll probably be good in the second act too.”

I whip my head around to her, eyes wide. “Second act?! I thought the story was wrapped up!”

Penny shakes her head, swishing her curls. “Nope. There’s another part. It’s just as long.”

I look at my phone clock. “We’ve already been here for an hour and a half!”

She takes a bite of her cookie and smiles around the mouthful. “Yup. Welcome to musical theatre, Si.”

I groan and slump forward. The program is still in my hand, and still on Baz’s picture. Well...if Baz has got more songs, maybe I won’t mind staying.

———————————————-

So the second act, from what I can tell, pretty much destroys all the happy endings of the first act. Wow, okay, that’s not depressing at all. Everybody either gets squished by a giant or just generally fucks up. What a pleasant play.

Baz comes back on a few times. First, he and the other prince sing another version of the previous song. It’s the same tune and the same idea, but they’re singing about different impossible women. I chuckle. So Baz’s character is a total bastard. Kind of makes him seem like less of an arsehole by comparison.

Later, as everything in the story continues to fall apart, Baz runs into the Baker’s Wife. After one short conservation, the lights go pink, and the music gets slow. Baz starts approaching her with a smirk.

“Anything can happen in the woods,” he sings. “May I kiss you?”

My eyes pop out. Well, that’s forward. Far more forward than Baz probably really is. I know it’s just the play, but Baz looks so strong and handsome, that I believe him. And, is it wrong that I sort of wish it was real? That Baz would actually be that well, sexy? God, did I just call Baz sexy?!

Baz does kiss her, and it’s so intense that I blush. The Wife walks away from him, but he grabs her again and twirls her into his arms. Together, they glide across the wooden stage, occasionally kissing more. He spins her in and out, leading her around, all while singing a sleezy but beautiful song to seduce her.

“Foolishness can happen in the woods,” he croons. “Once again, please...let your hesitations be hushed. Any moment, big or small, is a moment after all. Seize the moment, skies may fall any moment.”

They kiss again, and I can’t believe how passionate it is. How passionate Baz is. It’s strange and wonderful to watch. All too soon, the Wife is pulling away and the kiss ends. But my brain is still swirling while Baz sings again.

“Right and wrong don't matter in the woods, only feelings. Let us meet the moment unblushed. Life is often so unpleasant. You must know that, as a peasant. Best to take a moment present. As a present, for the moment.”

With Baz’s last line, they walk off stage. I’m still blushing, and very confused by my own feelings.

Soon enough, the play ends. Baz’s character leaves Cinderella and marries Sleeping Beauty. (Wow, what a bastard.) But after all that misery, everyone atill alive is alright, I guess. The actors line up and bow. Everyone starts applauding. Oh shit. I quickly join. All the cast members smile brightly as they bow. And when Baz steps up, he’s no exception. Christ, he actually looks amazing when he smiles. It fits his face far better than a scowl or a thin flat line.

I’ve been learning a lot of new things about Baz tonight.

The cast leaves and the curtain falls. Lights turn back on. People start shuffling out. I’m still a bit dumbfounded to move though. I just saw Baz in a musical, where he sang and danced and kissed perfectly. He was fucking incredible. And I should let him know.

As we’re walking out the door, I turn to one of the ticket takers. “Hey, where are the actors coming out?”

“They should be in the alley to the left soon.”

“Awesome, thanks.”

On the sidewalk, I tug on Penny’s hand. “You can head home, Pen. I’m gonna stick around for a bit.”

Penny gives me a curious look, but just shrugs. “Alright then. See you, Si.”

“See you.”

She saunters off with a spring in her step. I watch her, wondering if I should run after and not do this. But I stay still. Fuck, what am I doing?

The actors trickle out one by one. I notice Baz’s friend and his cousin, but they run off before I can ask them where Baz is. The crowd thins until I’m the only one left, standing there like an idiot. Maybe I missed him. Maybe I should just go-

“Blasted dead mobile,” a familiar voice grumbles.

My head snaps up just in time to see Baz stop in his tracks. He looks like a deer in the headlights, grey eyes wide behind his spectacles. He’s back to his usual style of t-shirt and glasses and manbun. Back to the Baz I know. His mouth hangs open in complete and utter shock.

“Hey,” I say as casually as possible.

“Snow,” he replies shakily, a slight redness appearing on his cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

"I, just saw the show. The one you were in. Obviously. And I just wanted to find you and say you're uh, you were really good."

He visibly gulps, fiddling with his knapsack strap. “Thank you. I...didn’t realise you were a musical theatre fan.”

I chuckle and rub the back of my neck. “I’m not, not really. Penny convinced me to come. I didn’t expect to see you here either. Especially on stage. How the Hell did that happen?”

Baz sighs with both exasperation and what seems like a little happiness, maybe. “Well, if you must know, my cousin was the one who originally decided to audition and I helped him with his lines. I said he was shite, and he bet me I couldn’t audition better. I’m very competitive, so I made a real effort to do well. Then I got in. I was going to turn it down, but Dev convinced me to try. It’s been, weirdly fun. I like performing. And I made new friends. Turns out there’s more to life than studying.”

“Huh,” I chuckle, “that’s pretty neat. So all that pacing and humming in the washroom was you rehearsing your lines?”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t want you to know because it felt embarrassing. Sorry about that.”

I blink rapidly. Holy shit, I’m legitimately in shock. Baz Pitch just apologized to me. Wow. Tonight has been bizzare. “I-It’s okay. I get it now. Honestly, I just thought you were keeping me up on purpose because you hate me.” I try to laugh that last part off with a nervous chuckle.

Baz looks at the ground, shuffling his feet. I’ve seen Baz cold before, detached and pulled in and what not. But this is different. He looks...nervous. When he speaks, his words are shaky and quiet. “I don’t, you know. Hate you. I never have.”

My world tilts sideways. I nearly stumble backwards from the shock of his words. I look for any sign of deceit and find none. All I see is the anxious sort-of-teenager confessing something apparently really hard to say.

“Oh,” I stutter out. “You...you don’t?”

“No,” he says. “I just, I make arsehole comments when I’m nervous. Especially to those who...make me nervous.”

Huh? What the hell does he mean? “I, make you nervous?”

“Yes. You have almost since we met.”

I’m still confused. I take a moment to study Baz. His pulled in body language, his knapsack fiddling, his downcast eyes, his increasingly obvious blush-

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” I squeak. Baz sighs in an annoyed way. That probably wasn’t the response he wanted.

“Yeah,“ he grumbles. “Oh.”

Crap I don’t know what to say. I end up blurting out the first thing that comes to my dumb head. “So is that stereotype about guys in theatre being gay true?”

Baz head lifts up to better glare at me. His eyes are like stormy grey daggers. “No, obviously not. It’s a stereotype for a reason.”

Shit shit, I’m so bad at this. I run a hand through my tangled hair. “Right, right, sorry. I make dumb comments when I’m nervous.” I sigh and look right at him, eyes fixed despite my fear. “I guess what I’m trying to ask to in my stupid way is, are you gay? Just, want to make sure I'm not misinterpreting. I do that a lot.”

Baz’s face softens. No more steely glare, just neutral, save for his slightly pulled in lips. “Yes,” he says like he has to force the words out. “Yes, I am.” He gulps, fiddling with his strap like mad. “Are you?”

I shrug, because truthfully the only honest gesture. “Sorta, I guess. At least part of me must be, considering how much I like looking at you.”

He inhales sharply, and the blush starts creeping down his long neck. “Oh. That’s...not something I was aware of.”

“Honestly?” I chuckle, pulling at my hair again. “Me neither. I mean, I’m always looking at you, but I never thought about why too much. It wasn’t until the show that I realised how much I like to stare at you. Um, sorry if that’s creepy.”

“No,” he replies very quickly. “no, it’s uh, it’s actually fine.”

He’s blushing very hard. Shit, am I blushing too? It certainly feels like it. “Oh. Okay.”

We look at each other in silence for a long moment. I’m not sure what to say, and obviously neither does he. We’re just two idiots standing on a driveway. I feel my stomach rumble. Oh man, I’m a hungry idiot.

“So,” I say, rocking on my heels, “do you have anywhere to be?”

Baz shakes his head. “No, not really. I’m supposed to go to the wrap party but fuck that. I was just going to go home to the dorm.”

“Well, in that case, uh, you wanna go get something to eat? There’s a 24 hour diner near our dorm building.”

He looks at me curiously, studying me like a specimen. “Are you asking me as your roommate, a fan of my performance, or...something else?”

I chew my bottom lip. Cautiously, I step forward and and brush my fingers on the back of his hand. He doesn’t pull away, so I hold it loosely. “Something else, preferably.”

Baz looks at me with wide, open eyes, filled to the brim with worry. “Snow, you do remember that we're roommates, right? If whatever, this is doesn't work out, we're still going to have to live with each other for months. That would not be pleasant. And hell, Snow, you barely know me, really. Is this really worth the risk?”

My grip on his hand tightens. He still doesn’t pull away. “Y-Yeah, of course I know this could all blow up in our faces. But, Baz, I really want to try. Like, you currently occupy like 90% of my thoughts. And sure most of them were negative, because I thought were a prick.” He frowns at that. It’s actually adorable. “But now, I’d really like to find out what you’re like when you’re not a prick. So I think it’s worth the risk.” I take a deep breath, making sure to look at Baz right in the eye. “Do you?”

I can see the gears turning in his big head. I’ve seen it a hundred times in class when we have to solve a problem. It’s even more fascinating up close. How his lips shift, his eyes darting back in forth. He doesn’t let go of my hand the whole time though. I catch the moment his face relaxes though, when he makes his decision.

“Yes,” he says quietly, “I think it’s worth the risk too.”

We both grin at the same time. Fuck I never knew before tonight that seeing his smile could make me so happy. I think I want to see it a lot more.

“Well, c’mon then.” I tug on his arm, and we start walking. “I’m hungry.”

“When are you not hungry, Snow?”

I scoff. “I thought you were only a prick when you were nervous.”

“I’m about to go on a date with my roommate who I’ve been hopelessly pining after for over a year. So excuse me, but I’m very nervous.”

Wow, my whole face must look like a tomato right now. Looking over, I see that Baz is in the exact same state. Either this is going to be incredible or a complete disaster. I’m seriously hoping for the first one.

“Don’t be,” I say as kindly as I can, “it’s just a date. We’ll see how this goes and go with it, alright?”

Half his mouth pulls up in a lazy smile. I like him relaxed like this. “Okay. I can live with that.”

I grin. I can’t stop grinning tonight. “Awesome. Now, important first date question.” He looks at me curiously and somewhat afraid. “Where the hell did you learn to sing so well?”

Baz lets out a breathy laugh. “Playing the violin all your life gives you surprisingly good pitch. It only took a few sessions with the pianist to get the songs okay. Not that they were easy. Apparently Sondheim is never easy.”

“That’s amazing.” He examines me for any sign of mocking, but he won’t find anything. I genuinely thinks it’s really cool.

“Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

“Could I get a repeat performance?”

“No.” I pout as much as I can, bottom lip pushed very far out. Baz stays strong for a few more seconds, then sighs. “Maybe some other time.”

I smile again. “Awesome. Next question, what was it like getting into those tight prince pants?”

“I am not dignifying that question with an answer.”

“Oh c’mon! I’m just wondering.”

“And wondering you shall stay.”

I make a “pbblt” sound with my lips. “Fine, spoilsport. How about you tell me what the production was like? Penny says plays are all drama behind the scene too.”

“Fucking hell it was a nightmare! Dev, Niall, the Witch, and Cinderella were great, but generally actors are self absorbed idiots. First day, Rapunzel came in hungover and spilled her entire coffee on my shirt. Baker's wife was the the world's worst diva. And don’t get me started on the Wolf. He tried to bang every girl in the cast, and a couple of the guys too.”

He goes on like that as we walk down the dimly lit street hand in hand. I interject a bit of commentary here and there, but I just let him talk. He’s fun to listen to. I like his sarcastic, sharp humour. Especially when it’s not directed at me.

I think I like him. A lot.

———————————————-

“No no, I’m serious!” I say far too loud, considering the time and that we’re walking down the hall of our dorm building. “Jamie is gonna kill Cersei. It’s inevitable.”

“He’s already left King’s Landing though,” Baz replies cooly.

“Yeah, but he can come back.”

“I suppose. But I think he’s going to be too busy with the White Walkers to deal with his crazy twin sister.”

“Good point. Maybe it’ll be the finale, when Dany finally storms King’s Landing.”

“Ugh, she needs to do that already. It’s been eight seasons!”

“They’re keeping us in suspense.”

I groan and lean back against the dorm room door. “I know. It’s fucking torture.” I sigh looking at the brown piece of wood. It feels so massive right now. “So, we’re here.”

“I noticed.” Baz stands in front of me, with only a few feet between us.

“First date protocol says I’m supposed to walk you to the door. But we’ve got the same door, so...”

“Yes, I’m not quite sure what to do either.”

We stare at each other. I study his face, like I have been doing all night. I spent most of our meal staring at him as he talked. I can finally admit to myself that I like to do that, and now I can also say I like his laugh, his smile, and the way he talks about his passions. I just keep seeing him in a new light. Everything feels different and new and scary. I love it.

“So,” I say quietly, “did you have fun?”

Baz smiles softly. “Yes, I did.”

“Would you, be persuaded to do this again?

“Is that your way of asking me out for a second date, Snow?”

I shrug up to my pink tinged ears. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Then yes. I would like to do this again.”

I nod rapidly, far too nervous for my own good. “Okay, cool, awesome, sounds good. Do we...just go to bed now?”

Baz shrugs slightly. “I suppose so.”

We immediately go back to staring. But my gaze drifts downwards, to his thin lips that are currently pressed together. I still remember that stage kiss. I know that was all fake, but I wonder what the real thing would be like that. I wonder if that passion translate to real life. To me.

“Simon...” Baz whispers. He’s somehow gotten closer. And my breath hitches, because he’s looking at my mouth too.

Fuck it.

I grab the front of his shirt and kiss him hard.

Baz gasps against my mouth, but very quickly sinks into it. His lips slide with mine perfectly. He presses one hand to my neck and buries the other in my hair. I groan and slide mine across his back. Christ, he’s so fucking fit. I want to tear his shirt off and feel all these muscles directly on my finger.

“Kissing on the first date, Snow?” Baz whispers playfully in one of the few moments we aren’t liplocked. “Scandalous.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I grumble, holding his hips tighter.

After a few more kisses, he pulls away with a small grin. My knees buckle at the devilish glint in his grey eyes. He looks just as sexy as he did on stage. “Well,” he drawls, “if you insist.”

For the second time tonight, my brain completely short circuits.

This is so new and scary, yet, I’m so fucking excited. I suppose it’s going to be an adventure. Into the unknown. Into the woods, I suppose.

I kiss him again, clenching my fist in his hair so hard his man bun falls apart, curtaining our faces in black strands. He pushes a hand under my shirt to feel up my stomach. I fumble with the keycard and get the blasted door open, then pull Baz in by the back of his neck. The door closes, and the rest of the night is a blissful whirlwind.

Hooray for musical theatre.

———————————————- AN: "Blargh" is copyright Theo the Fanfic Writer and anyone who steals it will be sued. /s ;)

So yeah, musicals! "Into the Woods" is my favourite musical of all time and I think Baz would be a perfect Cinderella's Prince. Also I've always thought Baz would be an incredible singer. Simon would be floored lol. Sorry if this is a little rough tbh. Hard to describe someone watching a musical haha. I struggled writing it but, I had fun in the end. I love writing Simon the Oblivious Pining Idiot.  Requests are still open and I will get to them between being dead from work. Hope you enjoyed this :)

[nextgennews-blog1]

Knowing My Limits by Elizabeth Scher

The greatest gift I ever received was getting fired for the first time. I, like so many in the restaurant industry, am a struggling performer. I had been making my way through the ebb and flow of constant rejection, and not necessarily handling it well.

For the past few years at this point, I had been bouncing around from restaurant to restaurant. I had just moved to New York in 2013 and was having difficulty finding my footing. Wherever I worked was filled with a myriad of issues. I never made enough money, there were never enough shifts, the managers were terrible, etc. There was rampant sexual harassment everywhere I worked. This, unfortunately, was to be expected.

I have been battling severe anxiety for years, which, at this point, been repressed to dangerous degrees. In July 2016 I reached a point where it could no longer be ignored. Realizing I could not safely live on my own, I went back home. I let my job know, and they were incredibly supportive. At no point did they show annoyance or belittle my experience, and I will forever be grateful for that. In fact, many of my coworkers and bosses could empathize seeing as how many have gone through similar issues themselves. Working in restaurants, you are bound to find people who have gone through what are patronizingly referred to as “imaginary problems”. Issues such as addiction, depression, anxiety, extreme anger, etc. Ailments where ignorant advice is given such as “just learn to smile more,” or “it’s all in your head.”

I eventually got to the point where I could live on my own and go back to work. I insisted that working in a restaurant was not contributing to my anxiety. In spite of the following events  I still believe this to be true. The types of problems that arise in a restaurant are often immediately resolved. My anxiety is generally concerned with the abstract and/or long term. In a restaurant you have many problems at once, but there is often a clear solution. That being said, I did not go back to work full time. I felt, as did my doctor, that I needed to ease into normalcy. My wallet disagreed, but my body felt it necessary to listen. My job was very cooperative, yet again, and I was allowed to come back on a part-time basis. Based on how I have been talking about this place is seems like the ideal serving experience. It is, however, by far the most dramatic place I have ever worked. I have seen drunk servers fight customers. I, myself, pulled a knife out of a cook’s hands to stop him from cutting himself. One time a manager was fired for literally stalking another manager. This place made Maury seem like a lovely family reunion.

There is one important character that is integral to much of the drama that took place. His name is Jake. Jake was the bane of everyone’s existence. He was an annoyingly loud regular who was crude, young, rich, traditionally handsome, and had a hoard of fake friends at his disposal. The main bartender, Evan, who was also good friend of mine, happened to be rather fond of Jake. Jake essentially paid Evan’s entire salary so it’s hard not to see why Evan had his back. Jake is a truly disgusting person. He would sexually harass every woman, but that is to be expected. He manipulated a host into sending what I’ll politely call “suggestive” videos, and then showed them to all of his friends. He would hand out cocaine like it was candy as though we were some sort of drug Santa. He called one of my friends, a fellow server named Brittany, a “miserable cunt” and was subsequently “banned” for 10 days. He tried to go back the next day as if nothing happened. The only reason he even got reprimanded was because Brittany was leaving for graduate school at the end of the week. The minute she left he was back to his old antics with full force. He has done, and continues to do, terrible things with no punishment. The final straw for me was when he exposed himself to a coworker and a female manager. I personally witnessed the female manager reporting it to the the higher ups and nothing was done. Jake didn’t even so much get a slap on the wrist.

Jake started to weigh on my mind more than I care to admit. Before he was just a slimy irritation, but I never thought he actually would effect me in the way that he did. I started to have panic attacks about possible scenarios involving him. They were only in my imagination, but there was something different about them than my other panic induced downward spirals. Although these events were fabricated, they were not out of the realm of possibility. Jake’s money made him very appealing to the higher ups. He was even being courted as an investor for a future location. He was untouchable. I was starting to think that he could literally rape us and the owner would just say we shouldn’t have been in his way. Unrealistic, yes, but given the way rape is treated these days, that idea is more realistic than I wish it was.. At one point I literally broke down crying about this in the middle of Union Square. There I was, sitting on the sidewalk on a Saturday night, crying about a piece of shit who, frankly, had already mostly decided not to mess with me. I wasn’t exactly nice to him after he called Brittany a cunt.

One of the main lessons I took away from my mental breakdown was to stop repressing stress. I decided I needed to confront this issue. I couldn’t go to management because that had already proven to be futile. At best we were ignored and at worst we were openly mocked. What I decided to do was talk to Evan, the bartender, and my friend. Evan and I grew close because we would commute together. We would rant to each other, talk about our fears and frustrations, and confide in each other. He has fought and won many battles that I won’t go into out of respect for his privacy. He helped me while I was struggling and I will always love him for that. What I thought I could do is go to Evan, as a friend, with my fears about Jake seeing as he actually has some influence. Evan isn’t a manager, but he could deny service. Another thing to mention about Evan is that he is incredibly defensive and stubborn. He has alienated a lot of people who have confronted him about similar issues. I knew that if I confronted him there was a possibility that I could lose a friend. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, but I had no choice. The conversation went exactly as I expected. I was crying, he was yelling, I was saying we don’t feel safe, he said I should have gone to management and not him. I said that these were panic induced thoughts, but felt they were still legitimate worries. I suggested that Jake not be given so many “perks” which, I felt, validated his behavior. I also said that Evan encouraged this behavior. He did not take kindly to that. Both of us were emotional and probably not as articulate as we could have been. I had to go to work as he was leaving for the day. I went to cry before my shift, he went right to management.

I left for a little while because I was already scheduled to go on vacation with my family. I came back after about ten days where I learned I was no longer allowed to work shifts until I have a talk with the general manager. My coworkers agreed that I was probably going to be fired in this “talk.” We all agreed that this was, in fact, probably what I needed. This place was making me miserable and the environment was toxic. Lo and behold, I come in the next morning and I have the “talk.” The general manager said I was “causing unnecessary drama.” and they can’t have that, especially from a part-time employee. I then asked him if I could explain why I did what I did. I did not hold back. I explained how I was coming to Evan as a friend, how going to management was futile, and how genuinely terrified we all are around Jake at times. I also made a point to tell him about how Brittany, the aforementioned “miserable cunt,” had gone to the owner the day before that incident occurred. She went to the owner, with another manager, and raised her concerns about Jake. She stated that he is always condescending and sexually harasses her. She had also said that she was afraid to go to the owner about this because she was scared to talk negatively about his friend. The owner’s response to these concerns was “well next time they do that say ‘yeah, well Evan doesn’t have these,’” and made fake breast gestures. It bears repeating that this was in front of another manager; the general manager apparently never knew about that incident. I also thanked the general manager for treating me so well when I needed the time off. It is a rare thing, and I still wanted to show appreciation.

I am not happy about how the confrontation went down, but I am happy I did it. If I had to get fired for anything I’m happy it was for standing up for myself and my coworkers. The whole experience made me realize that I never want to work in restaurants ever again. I wish I could say this type of incident is uncommon. I can’t count how many times a female coworker, at any restaurant I’ve worked, has encountered sexual harassment that has made them feel genuinely unsafe. At one point or another, at this place, every single female staff member had to be talked out of quitting over the sexism. We all said the same line: “it’s just part of the job.”

I learned that I can be a commanding force if I need to be. The whole experience has made me stronger. I still battle with anxiety daily and I am adjusting to the treatment I receive for it, but it has made me a better person. I’ve realized that learning how to get rid of unnecessary stress is difficult, but crucial. The second I walked out of that restaurant after being fired a huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders, as cliche as that sounds. I mean that in a very real sense; I feel lighter. Job searching is awful, but I will take that any day over forcing myself to suppress more anxiety. I know my limits. More importantly, I know how to properly expand my limits without causing more stress. Baby steps are crucial and not a sign of weakness. I always thought that getting fired would be humiliating. I never considered that it could be the most empowering thing that has happened to me. I will be forever grateful.