#i would spin this around but the math is too hard for me to figure out how. also it looks bad from any other angle

[sonic-adventure-3]

i animated a jog cycle :D !! i honestly didnt set out to i just got distracted posing and kept on going lol. this is my first time animating in 3d! its fun and so hard. also i found out i cant export blockbench animations literally anywhere, except minecraft maybe. not so fun.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Any ideas for Phantom's number 1 fan? I'm so excited to see Tim and Danny run into each other and figure out OH, so this is what's going on. And also being gay cuz would either of them mind too much about being married? Hey- wait- what's this about a child-

Cut to the watchtower just freaking out full panic. Oh God, the world is gonna end. How do we fix this so the ghost king doesn't kill us all???

John Constantine would go bald from how much stress hair-pulling he was doing. They have been searching for a solid week and have yet to find out where Batman's third son went.

He left a very tiny trail across Europe, seemingly as an art thief and hired assassin. It broke Batman's eldest son's heart whenever a new clue was phoned into the Watchtower, which did not make John feel better about placing a bounty on the kid's head.

It was a neceasery but with each passing day it became clear that no one truly understod the Young Justice Robin. He seemed to always be one step ahead of everyone, and covered his tracks so well that it would have taken them months, maybe even years to follow if they hadn't been looking.

But oh, were they bloody looking.

The entire league had come together to trace Young Justice Robin's path, turning two of the main conference rooms into the center hub for comparing and connecting clues.

It looks like a conspiracy theorist's wet dream in there.

Colored yarn strung around the room, screens displaying messages and photos of cities, and multiple tired-looking league members scrambling to make heads or tails of the new personality that YJ Robin had created in every new country.

Frankl, John was slightly impressed by how much work the kid was giving them. Even the tracking spells that should have pointed in his general direction failed because his soul was not being picked up on a global search whenever they cast it.

It was almost as if the kid had left their world. John wanted to hope that it meant he went to a different planet, but he never betted on a horse with a broken leg.

YJ Robin was trying to kill the Ghost King's fiancee, and despite the guards they placed around known stationed natural portals, he managed to slip through.

It was the only thing that made sense, but it also meant they were running out of time. His contacts on the other side had caught multiple whispers that the Ghost King's army was gathering and would be ready for combat any day now.

At this point, he wasn't even sure the King would listen, even if they did manage to stop YJ Robin. Higher beings took a insult far more serious then humans did.

"Well?" He asks just to be a ass when Batman son teleports in. He gone to speak to some Ghost hunter specilists. Not that John put much stock in thier ecto-research. He perfected magic through hard work and numours deals. The thought the scientist thought they could us maths to build similar defenses were laughable.

But the league was desperate for any form of defense against the army in case they could not please the King in time.

Nightwing—even in the Batman suit, John could only see the young man in Blue struggling to keep everything together—pulled a face. "The Fenton's technology is impressive but....they seemed to really empthis that they no longer build weapons. That it wouldn't work."

"I could you that. At the most, they could detect a ghost but that's only a few second before a deadful shiver ran down your spin anyway." John huffs rolling his eyes.

"No. I think they were lying. They seemed really determined to make me believe they had no real means of harming a ghost. And get this: The Fentons dismantled the ghost portal they claimed allowed them to enter a death dimension only two days before we arrived."

Nightwing says with a tone that would have sounded strange in his blue suit. On Batman, it's just the right amount of emotionless that John has to bite his lip to stop him from reaching out and yanking the kid into a hug.

The world was too unfair to the kind-hearted folk like Nightwing.

The boy dressed as a Bat continues, blissfully unaware of how much he breaks John's heart. "They claimed it never worked and were embarrassed they kept it up for so long. I asked Oracle to check their online presence, and they read a lot of articles that speculated what the Justice League was up to days before they tore it down."

Now, John frowned in thought instead of disapproval. He highly doubted those hacks had made an actual portal to the Infinite Realms but they had boasted about it for three full years on their website.

It was the reason the Justice League even bothered to approach them. So why now, did they suddenly tear it down?

"They're trying to cover something up." John concludes watching the other nod in agreement.

The other man's jaw tightens for just a second before he adds "Or they are coving for someone."

Shit.

"Kid made it to the ghost zone, didn't he?" John swears feeling his heart drop down to his knees.

"We can gather that Young Justice Robin has made his way to the Realms and is now an active threat to humankind's survival. He needs to be taken down by any means possible," Batman declares, his voice like breaking glass. It's sharp and cutting, like the shreds of whatever heart was left in Richard Grayson.

John wonders if Bruce knows his son has broken from wherever his soul rests.

"That would explain the army that has gathered under the Ghost King banner," John grumbles, hands twitching for nicotine. "My sources said they are all gathered and practically ready to march."

"Do you know how long we have before they are here?" Batman asks walking into the conference room and grabbing the attention of every gathered hero with one hand motion.

Everyone tenses in a way that could make the weakest of them choke. They know what it means.

A level ten threat will arrive.

They failed to stop the Third Robin. He managed to spend months doing whatever he pleased, and now that the League was paying attention, it was far too late.

Many of them would not survive the upcoming battle. Many of them who did would lose so many loved ones that it would be hard to decide if they should spend the last few hours on the battlefield or in the arms of their families.

Life, as they know, may come to an end. They could become the next Krypton. Somewhere in the crowd, Kara falls to her knees, sobbing and babbling to Roa, begging for her not to live through her planet's destruction again.

A few of the youngest members start to sob along side her.

Wonder Woman, who was standing next to Superman and Martian man hunter, clears her throat. Her eyes are as hard as steel, her stance unwavering under the pressure of hundreds of pairs of eyes that land on her, and when she speaks, it's like the banging of a drum.

"Warriors prepare for combat. We are at War."

__________________________________________________________

Tim doesn't think when he lands.

He scrambles to his feet, and rushes away from the portal as fast as he can, hoping to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Yetis.

His feet fall into the mud, splashing and nearly tripping him over. It darkens out, and there are no cars in sight, but the smell is familiar, and the feeling of the air is welcome.

Before Gotham stands in all her grey dangerous glory, just over a few hills. He is far from the city, on the outside of Crime Alley, he thinks, but he can see the Bat symbol flowing proudly in the sky, can make out Wayne Headquarters, his Nest, and Babs' Clocktower, and it's so amazing to finally be home.

He pushes his legs to go faster, climbing up the hills into the highway. The streetlight flicker as he rushes by, unafriad of coming trafic. No one goes this way anymore. Not since they turned it into a dead end long before Bruce's parents died.

There are patches of broken road pieces where grass and weeds are growing through, his feet slap against the multiple holes, ruining his momentum but Tim can hardly care.

Tim knows how to find Bruce now.

He can help bring him back from the timeline through the various clues his father figure has been able to leave over his adventures. Tim is so close now, he can actually see the finish line.

He just needs to get to the Cave- when Jason and the Demon are not there, preferably. Maybe Alfred would let him in. The old man had always had a soft spot for Tim- and he could build the machine he needed.

That's if he doesn't build it in his Nest.

Tim runs faster, feeling his lungs and legs burn. He doesn't pay it any mind. The time with the Yeti has made him stronger, likely due to the hours of soaking in some private reserve of Lazarus Pit, so he is going at a faster speed.

One that he had never been able to reach before. He was nothing like a speedster or even on his Red Bird, but damn if it isn't exciting to think he may be able to outpace Jason now.

As he approaches, the city becomes more prominent, shimmering in a faint green glow, as if welcoming him home. Tim's face breaks into a smile when he enters Crime Alley, passing the city limits. In Bruce's city, he is safe from Ra because even without Batman, the city has always shielded them from the Ghuls.

Bruce will be back tomorrow, here in the shadows of Gotham's darkness, protecting everyone, and Tim will finally be able to rest. Months of invading the Justice League, working with the League of Assiasn, the Spiders, and his own doubts were finally going to be behind him.

So close. So very close he could taste it.

A scream cuts through the air.

Tim slides to a stop, feet splashing against the puddles of dirty water he hadn't noticed, swinging his head in the direction it came from. Every part of him wants to ignore it because he has to focus on getting Bruce. He does, but the fear in that woman's voice is too thick to ignore.

He glances back to his Nest, torn between his duty and his heart, biting his lip, but a young whimper- a child likely- makes the choice for him. Tim changes directions, going into the alley and coming across a family of three in the middle of being mugged.

It's quick work to get behind the man waving the gun, silent as the shadows, he blends in to mask his presense. He stricks just as the fool pulls the triger, the loud bang echoing in the small space.

The woman screams again, this time louder, with far more fright in her voice, as the boy bursts into tears.

Thankfully, Tim had knocked off his aim, and the bullet bounced off the brick near the man- likely the father- who was standing in front of a frightened woman and small child in what could only be an attempt to protect them.

The brick shatters to peices as Tim reels back his fists, bringing them down in three swift but brutal punches and the gunman hits the ground with a loud thump.

He hadn't even had time to scream.

Tim huffs above him, and the large amount of running finally catches up to him. It's been a long time since he was so out of breath, though sprinting at full force for a solid nearly fifty minutes was a good enough reason.

"Is everyone alright?" Tim pants out, shaking out his hand in a showy way. After all, he wasn't wearing a mask, and right now, this needed to look like Timothy Drake got a lucky burst of adrenaline.

"Yes." The man breathes, sounding shocked. "Yes, we're fine. Thanks to you. Thank you so much, you saved our lives."

"Don't mention it. I'm glad I was in the right place at the right time." Tim looks up at him, twisting his face into the perfect meek civilian persona Timothy Drake is known for, and then feels all the blood drain from his face.

At that moment, he realizes two things.

One, Gotham was many shades of depressing but it was never green. Espcailly glowing green but while he had been runing he had swon he saw it shifted to sit behind a filter that made it appear as such.

And Two, Bruce looked a aweful lot like his father.

"Oh my boy." Thomas Wayne says, wrapping his arm around Martha and little Bruce Wayne's. He sends Tim another grateful warm smile. "I don't think you understand just what you've done here."

No, Tim thinks faintly I really don't think I do.

_____________________________________________________________

Somewhere in the far future, Danny Fenton wonders why his portal-making skill has stopped working. He used it regularly as his search and rescue means but ever since Robin fell into his arms half dead he had not been able to activeate it.

It was almost like it was stolen from him.

If only his parents hadn't dismantled the portal. He could ask Frostbite to check him over.

[i-guess-im-into-this-now]

The Apothecary Diaries

S1E10 First Watch

Here's where I watch The Apothecary Diaries for the first time and give my thoughts, analysis, predictions, and occasionally I stumble into a joke.

To start at the beginning:

Episode 1

My character/location cheat sheet

Lady Ah-Duo - Pure Consort, one of 4 top concubines

Garnet Pavilion - Lady Ah-Duo's residence

Fengming - Head LIW at Garnet Pavilion

Xiaolan - Maomao's servant friend

Lady Lishu - child bride concubine

Lady Lihua - the consort who was poisoned by powder

Jade Pavilion - Lady Gyokuyou's residence

Luomen - Maomao's physician father

Sir Kounen - Jinshi's older acquaintance who died

This episode fought me hard. Like, I struggled a lot with it. I'm more lost than I've ever been in this show. And forewarning, much of this episode's blog is me spinning wild theories, since I couldn't actually figure out what is happening.

And full disclosure, I had to watch this episode twice. I watched it once while I was tired, and could not figure out a lot of it. So I slept on it, let the mysteries roll around my head all day, and then watched it again and I'm still confused about many things! But I had some insights about a couple things, and added some more notes to my initial watch responses. Enjoy!

Cryptic opening. A person sits drinking alone on what appears to be the walls of the palace.

Palace gossip! The girl who drowned used to serve at the Garnet Pavilion. Word has it that she's the one who poisoned Lady Lishu's food. Could she have done it because Lady Ah-Duo is at risk of losing her place as one of the top consorts to a younger concubine?

At age 35, Lady Ah-Duo is so, so old. She's practically geriatric. Way too old to be a favored consort, even if she has been married to the emperor since he was the crown prince, and bore him a child that died.

And the math is funny when you have to consider child brides, but there is a possibility that if that infant that she bore had in fact not died, that they would be a young adult right about now. Right around the age of Jinshi a lot of young men in the palace. This possibility isn't my leading theory, since the show has already implied that Jinshi is the emperor's brother, but it's a good back up. For what it's worth, Lady Ah-Duo has the right coloring and look to be related to Jinshi. Also, I have no idea how old Jinshi actually is, but Gaoshun keeps referring to him as a young person, so I'm guessing young 20s or late teens. Which means there is an age gap between him and his brother the emperor who we now know is 34.

I'm starting to notice a motif. Maomao describes the Rear Palace as a garden, and the concubines as flowers. I remember her talking to Lady Lihua about how one could not compare a peony to a bellflower. And now she says:

Even the most beautiful flowers wilt eventually. And those unable to bear fruit no longer serve a purpose.

The ladies of the Jade Pavilion prepare and host a tea party for Lady Lishu, which is fraught with politics. The party is attended by Lady Lishu's food taster, who is terrified of Maomao after the events of the Garden Party. But even so, it seems Lady Lishu is still being bullied by her ladies.

Of note: Maomao is dressed up for the party, and doesn't have her freckles on.

The ladies of the Jade Pavilion won't let Maomao help clean up and they toss her out into the hall claiming she needs to rest, but they may have ulterior motives, because a certain palace manager is waiting for Maomao there.

Jinshi wants to know about the tea party, and Maomao realizes that he may have had a hand in organizing this event. I assume he wanted Maomao to observe Lady Lishu with her ladies in waiting to determine if the bullying is still happening, which is a noble intention. Why he does these things without simply asking Maomao to help, I don't know. She doesn't appreciate being maneuvered, and her natural curiosity and desire to help usually get her involved anyway, so there really isn't a good reason for him to continue operating this way. But things have been weird since Maomao became despondent after the servant girl drowned. He's retreated to old behaviors, which include manipulating Maomao. And the mask of the enigmatic palace manager is back. He's all sparkles again.

Maomao tries to brush him off.

Jinshi: I am far from being done with you.

Understatement.

Maomao: Funny, I'm more than done with you.

A lie.

But she may be done with him in this moment. When he's sparkling, he's manipulating, and she knows it.

They are bantering as they always do, but this isn't honest or fun. And he's put his hand on her shoulder. She has asked him before not to do that. She slaps it off as she did last time. Nothing has changed. What she said before is still true. His status makes anything between them impossible, and he shouldn't be touching her.

His tone immediately changes, signaling his sincerity as he wants to talk about the servant girl who died. He's not convinced that it was a suicide. He's heard Maomao's thoughts on this before, and he believes her. He also doesn't want to give up on finding the truth and getting justice for that girl. And... I just love that.

We see Jinshi through Maomao's distorted lens so often, that it can be hard to see that he has heroic qualities. When we first met him, he seemed to be almost an antagonist to Maomao. He was using her in his machinations, trying to seduce her to more firmly control her, and keeping information from her. But his role in this story, is not that of an antagonist, he's the love interest, and he's got to be worthy of the hero. As we've moved through the story we've caught glimpses of his better nature, and we can read between the lines to see what his motivations and actions have been. He's got some growth yet to do, no doubt, but fundamentally, he's a good person. And here, with his pursuit of justice for the murdered servant girl, we get a good example of him becoming a hero in his own right.

This also demonstrates the impact Maomao has had on Jinshi. I do believe he cared about justice before Maomao arrived in his life, and I think he would have pursued this case regardless, but this case in particular has extra meaning to Jinshi, because of Maomao.

The woman who died is a servant girl, just like Maomao. Someone targeted this woman and murdered her, because she was expendable.

Maomao: I am but a lowly commoner. My life is easily taken away over the slightest error. [From episode 9]

And that is unacceptable to Jinshi.

He saw a despondent Maomao, and listened to what she had to say, and in the moment he had no idea what to do. And he still might not know what to say to Maomao, but he does know that servant girls don't deserve to die when they become an inconvenience to someone in power.

And servant girls shouldn't have to live in the palace feeling like their lives are expendable.

Maomao: We wander through life, never knowing when it's our time. That's fate. There's no way of resisting it. [From episode 9]

No. Not okay. Not to Jinshi.

He might not be able to escape the obligations of his station or be able to take off the mask he needs to wear, but he can at least use his power for this.

He saw Maomao at her darkest moment to date, and it threw him. He has pulled back a bit but as he said he's far from being done with her. Jinshi never gives up on Maomao. Big male lead energy.

And so Jinshi asks for Maomao's thoughts, as he always does. He always wants to know her thoughts, her conjectures, and he believes her. As he did with the drowned servant girl. Now he wants to know if she thinks the servant girl could have done what it's being said she did. He's not sure himself, but he trusts that Maomao will have some insight. Just as Jinshi's support and encouragement helps Maomao to solve mysteries, Maomao's careful analysis and even unfounded conjectures, help Jinshi make sense of the cases he's call upon to handle. They work better when they work together.

Jinshi has heard her thoughts about the servant girls death before, but he has to ask again:

Jinshi: Do you think she really committed suicide? Maomao: I've already told you that's not for me to determine.

And if Jinshi is back to masks, and sparkles, then Maomao is back to conjectures shouldn't be spoken out loud and "a mere lady-in-waiting wouldn't know."

Jinshi: She was a common servant girl. What reason would she have for attempting to poison Concubine Lishu? Maomao: I don't know.

The walls are up. The communication is down. Jinshi makes a frustrated sound. He tried asking her earnestly, and it got him nowhere. If Maomao is going to retreat to old behavior, so will he. It's time to ✨sparkle.✨

Jinshi will get to the bottom of this case goddamnit, even if he has to maneuver Maomao to do it. She's been sent to the Garnet Pavilion to help out get answers. She acts like she's upset at being sent, but don't listen to her. She wants to solve this case as much as Jinshi does.

That's... a hell of an intro for Lady Ah-Duo. She's going to be someone important isn't she? See wild theory above.

Caught it on the second watch, but the person on the wall was Lady Ah Duo. Her guan and hair style are the same, and when Maomao pictures her riding a horse, it's the same outfit at in the beginning.

Which begs the question, what was she doing sitting up on the rooftop drinking and staring at the stars?

Lady Ah-Duo is getting the kind of starstruck reaction usually reserved for Jinshi. And Maomao is wondering who Lady Ah-Duo reminds her of. Don't tell me my off-the-wall theory was correct? Shit, I'll have to rework all my other theories if that's true...

Everything at the Garnet Pavilion seems... nice. The servants work hard, and the head lady in waiting is kind, and approachable, different from what we've seen before with Lady Lihua's and Lady Lishu's servants. Maomao isn't sure what to do. She didn't get any specific instructions from Jinshi, and she's not sure where or what to look for. She's considering all of the angles though. In fact those thoughts are keeping her up at night. A servant girl who used to live and work in that very pavilion, was murdered. And someone did try to poison Lady Lishu. Maomao knows there must be a clue somewhere. It's driving her crazy.

This show just casually drops in commentary about the role of women in society.

She's (Fengming) well past her prime, but in another life, she would have made a great wife. I wonder if she ever considered marriage? Or if she chose to serve Concubine Ah-Duo for life?

I wonder if Maomao considers this her fate as well. Will she ever consider marriage? Will she choose to serve Concubine Gyokuyou for life? Do servants even get a choice? Do their desires matter at all? What about the concubines? Do they get a choice? Do their desires matter at all?

Lady Lishu shows up to the Garnet Pavilion acting weird as hell. Looking all around like she doesn't want to be seen. And she only has her one food taster with her. Strange for someone who may have been the target of an assassination attempt from the Garnet Pavilion.

Something about this doesn't add up. Why is she hiding her visit? Is she hiding from her own ladies? Is that why she only brought the one? Or is she avoiding someone else and didn't want a large retinue that would make her more noticeable. And why visit the Garnet Pavilion? What is the connection? She had the weird reaction to honey at the tea party she attended at the Jade Pavilion. Does this have something to do with honey? I really don't know. Maybe there will be some clues later on.

When she's done Maomao reports back to Jinshi, who... is acting very strangely. I think he's trying to seduce Maomao again. But, why use methods he knows will fail? Just what the hell is going on here?!

Maomao: And what's with his casual attitude recently?

Maomao thinks it's weird too.

He starts by lounging suggestively across the couch. Maomao finishes her report of the facts, and Jinshi asks her to go on... and I think I've figured out what he's up to. She's still holding back, not willing to share her thoughts and theories with him. He's pushing her. He tried talking it out before, and it didn't work, so this is plan B.

He pushes her with a pointed question, and that works! She tells him the facts she knows, her reasoning, and her opinions. Gaoshun and Jinshi share a look. Everything Maomao said aligns with what they already thought about Fengming.

The honey. Does the fact that Jinshi brought it mean anything?

Maomao: Given the way he's lapping up that honey, he must have already suspected her (Fengming).

I actually don't know how she gets to that leap of logic. Does she think he went to request a pot of honey from Garnet Pavilion to investigate himself? Maybe he or Gaoshun really did do that. Maybe that is how Gaoshun discovered that Fengming has a bandaged arm. I don't know.

What does he already know, before Maomao even gives her report? We know he knew about the bandage on Fengming's arm, but didn't tell Maomao about it. She noticed it and figured out it's significance on her own. She realizes that he already knew everything that she reported. So why bother to ask her?

My theory is that he's not sure, but he trusts Maomao's judgement and wanted to hear it from her to confirm his own thoughts, or see if she had any additional insights. Maybe to see if she can tie in any of the other mysteries. Or maybe he is seeing if she is a good spy. Perhaps he will use her this way again in the future, since she performed so well.

For what it's worth, I think he would like to be able to ask her opinion and have it freely given. And they may reach a day where he can simply consult with her, without her pulling away. But that day is not today.

There are also the mysteries of who tried to poison Lady Lishu, and why the servant girl that worked at the Garnet Pavilion was murdered. I think both Jinshi and Maomao would like to know if any of those things are connected.

Jinshi then does something so deeply weird... it's... he.... he tries to put his fingers In. Her. Mouth.

He offers her a pot of honey. An expensive luxury, with medicinal properties. It's something she probably would be willing to accept. However:

✨Jinshi✨: This is for you. Good girls should be rewarded.

She declines, completely freaked out. So he dips his fingers in the honey and corners her. What the absolute fuck Jinshi?!

Maomao: Offer it to someone who wants your fingers in their mouth!

Back the hell off with your honeyed words and your honeyed fingers!

Jinshi: Don't be so modest.

Is he doing this because she smacked his hand off of her shoulder earlier?

Maomao yells for help from Gaoshun, who pretends he can neither see nor hear what is happening. Holy hell. Don't these guys remember her story about nearly being assaulted? What the hell does Jinshi hope to achieve here?

Maomao is pissed at Jinshi, unnerved, and uncomfortable, but she's not triggered into having a trauma response. I think she must know that Jinshi would not force her. Even with the honey, I think he would stop shy of forcing his fingers into her mouth. I think, he thinks he is teasing her (it's harassment as Lady Gyokuyou says when she comes in). Maomao considers fighting. She considers submitting. She considers fleeing, but before she can decide what to do, she has an insight, which is what finally stops Jinshi.

Maomao has a moment where she thinks through some earlier events, like Lady Lishu not wanting to eat honey, and having had an allergic reaction to fish. She draws a connection that Lady Lishu may also be allergic to honey. Then she thinks about the servant girl who was drowned, about Lady Ah Duo, the servants, and Lady Lishu acting shady. And... I'm not sure what connection they have to honey, but I'm glad Maomao was able to connect all of the events. I knew she could do it, even if I can't!

My hero, Lady Gyokuyou walks in and Jinshi is caught honey red handed. And he runs away, like the guilty asshole that he is. Did I say he had heroic qualities earlier? I take it all back.

Gaoshun calls Maomao "Xiaomao" and tries to make excuses for Jinshi, calling this a prank that went to far. And barf. Fuck that excuse. And boy do I think there is some commentary happening here about sexual harassment and rape culture, but I won't digress into it.

Maomao: Since it was nothing but harmless fun, next time you can do the licking for me?

So, what is the point of this scene?

I've thought about it, and I'm swinging in the dark, but I think Jinshi is acting bizarrely because he is getting desperate. We've seen him slowly unraveling for awhile now, as he struggles between craving authenticity, and living up to the expectations of his status. To be clear, what he did is way across the line. It's certainly across the line in Maomao's eyes. It's also crossing the lines of propriety which is why Gaoshun pretends not to see, and why Lady Gyokuyou reacts so strongly when she sees it. But I think Jinshi has even crossed a line of his own that he normally wouldn't. So what would compel this usually composed and calculating man to behave in such an unhinged way?

Well I think it comes down to a few key events that happened recently.

Maomao left.

Jinshi has gotten rather used to having Maomao around. Being able to call upon her whenever he wants to take advantage of her incredible mind and unmatched skills. Or if he just wants to tease her or banter with her. She's the one who sees him. The one who makes him feel like he's a person, and not like he's just filling a role. So when he shows up and she's just... gone. Well. Jinshi did not like it.

He thought he lost her to another man.

Not only was she gone. She was gone with another man! Hadn't Jinshi been clear enough when he gave her a hair pin? How can she prefer Lihaku?! Also, doesn't she shrink away or cringe whenever Jinshi tries to touch her? How could she allow herself to be with Lihaku?! It turned out she wasn't physical with Lihaku, but for a moment there he saw what could happen. Jinshi did not like it.

Maomao's despair

That the machinations of the palace could tangle Maomao and get her killed, and that Jinshi would be powerless to stop it, well... This is intolerable to Jinshi.

Mix these feelings of loneliness, jealousy, and desperation and we get a Jinshi that is irrational. We've usually seen Jinshi in control of himself and everyone else around him. He's the mastermind, who knows how to move the pieces around the board to produce the outcome that he wants. And if he feels some way about what's going on around him or inside him, we usually have to guess, because he doesn't have anyone that he can talk to about it. So to now see him behave without thought, or reason, just from a place of desperation, of wanting to connect with Maomao, who just won't let him in, no matter what he does. Well, it's really weird, and inexcusable, but also kind of sad.

Whatever the case may be, Maomao uses this opportunity to ask Gaoshun for a favor. She's put the pieces together and now she needs evidence. Gaoshun accompanies her to visit Lady Lishu. His presence implies that the visit is sanctioned by Jinshi, which it is not. Maomao feels he owes her this one.

She wants to ask Lady Lishu about honey. Things are starting to come together for Maomao but I'm lost. I haven't figured out how exactly the conspiracy works yet, or what connection Lady Lishu has with the Garnet Pavilion. In any case, Lady Lishu had a dangerous reaction to honey as an infant and was told to never again eat it. And when Maomao asks about Fengming, Lady Lishu looks downright terrified. I'm also remembering that Lady Lishu was the child bride of the former emperor, and was mother-in-law to Lady Ah-Duo. That little tidbit probably wasn't dropped into this story for no reason. Just what is the connection between Lady Lishu, Lady Ah-Duo, and Fengming? Whatever Maomao suspected she didn't share it and now I'm starting to understand how Jinshi feels because I also want to force her to tell me what she thinks!

Gaoshun may not be a fan of JinMao but he is becoming quite a fan of "Xiaomao." He's giving her cutesy names and doing her favors with no reward. He has seen the way her brilliant mind works, her passion for protecting the powerless, her composure under pressure, and her superior competencies. She's earned his respect. When she asks, he searches through the court library, without question.

Wait a god damn minute. Honey. Lady Ah Duo's child appeared dead because they gave him honey. Of course they did, they have honey in abundance at the Garnet Pavilion. Then when the doctor was called he... took him out of the palace to safety? No that doesn't sound right. If the baby were a girl I would say yes, and that the baby was Maomao. But if that were true and we assumed that the emperor was her father, and we assume that Jinshi is the emperor's brother, than that would make Jinshi Maomao's uncle. Lol! Perfect. Absolutely perfect. But I don't think that's right.

So I've thought some more and I'm reminded that someone said the Emperor and Lady Ah Duo were foster siblings. I'd like to know more about that scenario, but regardless, I wonder if they truly saw themselves more like siblings than as spouses. I wonder if they didn't have physical relations at all. It would explain why they never had another baby in the many years they have been married. But then how did Lady Ah Duo end up pregnant you may ask. Well, there are not a lot of named male characters in this show that could fit the bill, so with my limited information, and a shot in the dark, I'm going to guess Sir Kounen. He was around in the palace with access to the imperial family, which we know because he had an impact on young Jinshi. Was he friends with the Emperor and Lady Ah Duo? Did Lady Ah Duo used to ride horses with him, then sit under the stars? Was that why she was drinking while stargazing at the top of the episode? Was she toasting to her past lover? I don't know. I don't really have any evidence at all.

So then what is with Fengming burning secret communication sticks? Well, if we consider that Lady Ah-Duo sneaks out to go horseback riding or meet up with her fellow who isn't the emperor, then maybe those communication sticks are for setting up secret rendezvous.

When Maomao was figuring out the connection of honey to every as yet unsolved mystery, she thought about how honey can nearly kill an infant, she thought about the servant girl who was murdered, and of Lady Ah-Duo, and if Jinshi is that baby, and honey was used to feint his death, then maybe the reason the servant was killed, was because she found out that the baby that was born was not the emperor's, or maybe that the baby lived. Or maybe she found out about Lady Au Duo having an affair, or maybe she saw Fengming using the secret communication sticks. Hmmm, could be a lot of things. There are a lot of secrets to keep in the Garnet Pavilion.

But how does Lady Lishu tie in? Am I way off here?

So I guess I'm now leaning towards Lady Ah-Duo's baby being Jinshi. Was Sir Kounen actually his father? And that would make Jinshi 17. He seems older to me. With all of his responsibilities, that makes me very sad to think he's so young.

There were two baby boys born around the same time, the baby of the emperor and the baby of the crown prince. Was there a baby swap in the palace? Did the emperor's child die? And they replaced that child with the Lady Ah-Duo's baby? Therefor removing Lady Ah-Duo's baby from the line of succession, since the child is a bastard and isn't actually of the imperial bloodline. That would kind of fit with how Jinshi is treated.

But you may ask, if Jinshi were Lady Ah Duo's baby and honey almost killed him at an infant, how can he sit around lapping it up now as an adult? Well, babies' deadly reaction to honey isn't due to an allergy, it's a rare infection. So even if you have a reaction as a baby, that doesn't mean you can't eat it as an adult. Will this be relevant later? Is that why the storytellers made such a spectacle of the honey scene? So we would remember it later?

Also, Maomao thinks it strange that the current emperor only had one concubine while he was still crown prince. That's even stranger if that one concubine was his foster sister whom he didn't have a physical relationship with. Did he also have a secret lover on the side? In the annex maybe? Perhaps someone that it wasn't appropriate to make into an official concubine? Perhaps Maomao's mother? Do we even know any characters that could fit this role? Fengming, maybe? The emperor comes to visit Lady Ah Duo, but he's actually there to see her head lady in waiting? Is Fengming actually using the communication sticks to set up a rendezvous for herself with the emperor? Did the lady in waiting find out, and the emperor's people had her killed? But Fengming is quite a bit older than the emperor so that's probably not it either.

Ahhhhgggg! This episode is too confusing! I give up! I want to threaten Maomao with some honeyed fingers and make her tell me what's going on!

I am really sorry to the people who read all of this. I have nothing good to offer you this episode. Just a ton of really wild, conjectures. Maybe I should take Luomen's advice and keep some of those to myself. Or maybe put them to use in writing a fanfic. lol.

If you want to start this blog series at the beginning:

Episode 1

Next episode:

Episode 11

[livelaughlovekny]

Texting him for homework help

a/n: going to try out a new format + wrote this fic when i was meant to be revising a test but got sidetracked. anyways, you can see how bad i am at science and math HAHA

Summary: You text Muichirou for homework help and he helps you a little

  You flip through the pages furiously, nearly ripping them. You should have revised earlier but the fanfiction you were reading was just too good. Your brain is officially a blank slate. Giving up, you opened up WhatsApp on your laptop. His name was at the top of your recently contacted. Tapping into your chats, you quickly sent him a SOS message.

You help, i cant do this anymore

mint ice creamok

You ☹️ science isnt sciencing

mint ice creamok

You how the frickity frack does a fuse work like does it just like stops current????

mint ice cream are you serious 💀 it lets current flow through but if theres too much then the wire inside the fuse will melt and like current can flow through cos its an open circuit do you get it

You ty bbg YES ok and so explain what earth wire does pls its so stupid ☹️

mint ice cream 🤡

You plsplspls i dont get anything 😢 the slides sucks

  Muichirou rolled his eyes but opened up a new tab in which he searched for the chapter’s slides. Screenshotting it, he sent it to you, knowing full well what your response would be. Waiting for you to reply, he formed his response to you in his head, figuring out how to explain it in simpler terms for you.

You [Image]

idiot wow so helpful 🥺

You it literally just like conducts electricity to the ground like if theres a leakage then it will prevent the user from getting a shock yk 

idiot still a little iffy about it but ok

You its a test, you cant be “iffy” about anything

idiot ☹️ tbf its just a revision

You ok 💀

  Rolling his eyes, Muichirou contemplated explaining the concept to you again or just letting you ask him other questions. He patiently waited for you to send your message when he noticed you typing.

You i think ill revise science tmr can you help me with math

mint ice cream the test is tmr wdym 💀

You ik but im too tired of it ☹️

mint ice creamalright, what is it

You soo whats like the four congruency tests

mint ice cream shit are you serious

You yeah 🙁

mint ice cream 💀ok wait

mint ice cream SSS = Side-Side-Side = All sides are the same SAS = Side-Angle-Side = 2 sides + 1 angle are the same AAS = Angle-Angle-Side= 2 angles + 1 side are the same RHS = Right angle-Hypotenuse-Side = Hypotenuse + 1 side is the same

mint ice creamdo you get it 🤓

You lol ass and idk 🙁

mint ice cream i dont deserve the torture of tutoring you

You 🖕 ok but fr i actually appreciate your help 🥺

  Twirling around in your spinning chair, you waited for his response. You glanced at the messy pile of worksheets and textbooks on your desk. No matter how hard you tried, his explanations were the only things that you could somewhat get.

You you know what congruent means right

idiotyeah

You impressive. so basically after you prove that theyre congruent youll write “[] is congruent to []” right

idiot yeah

You ok then at the back you write one of the congruent tests like which kind of congruency it is

idiot ok

You 🤡

idiot shut up im tired idw to do this anymore oml

  Muichirou’s fingers hovered above his keyboard as he thought about how to respond. He deleted his original message and sent another one.

mint ice cream L

Bonus: <Original message: itll be alright, im here for you>  He knew how hard these stuff were for you and was honestly extremely glad that his explanations could help you, even if it was just a little.

a/n: im so bad at this oml i feel like im horrible at explaining math and science :( tbf i do suck at them and i wrote this for fun (comforting myself) HAHA

[sweetsmollthings]

So I saw the shrinking twister idea by @tfnonsense and I couldn’t help but want to write something for it. I’ve seen shrinking games as a concept before, but it’s always tricky to balance the game aspect with the story aspect, particularly since most of the time people go with board games, which have like…dice rolls and cards that dictate the effects, which you tend to want to be different every time so you end up describing every turn, and everybody has to reach the end, amongst other issues…but twister gets around a lot of that because the effect is constant so you don’t have to describe every turn because nobody is missing anything if you do a time skip. And since the game is about elimination, losers can just go off and do other things while the rest of the players continue in the background. It’s a very elegant solution. Though, it’s still hard to really maintain the balance……..

Anyways, sorry for rambling, here’s the story, hope it's enjoyable...

“Shrinking Twister?”

Marge continued brandishing the box proudly, seemingly ignorant of the three doubtful looks sent her way. “It’s great. Saw it at a frat party, but I didn’t get to play—too many people. So I figure, why not get it myself and play it with you guys?”

The box cover was pretty standard, depicting a few figures in various positions on the game mat; the only difference was that the figures were also in various sizes. Jennifer peered at it from behind her glasses. “‘The classic game that ties you up in knots—with a shrinking twist!’ Cute.”

Lana twirled the end of her ponytail around her finger, frowning. “How does that even work?”

Marge blinked, then looked at the box herself. “I dunno.”

“You go back to normal afterwards, right?” Katie asked.

“Of course!” Marge scoffed, easing the box open. “It’s just a game, guys. You grow back like an hour after it’s over. Anyways,” she continued, taking out a clunky device, “we need to input our names and height into the spinner.”

The “spinner” reminded Katie of a Speak and Spell with the old-style LCD screen and the touch keyboard; the major difference being, of course, the round spinner in the center, and a large, gaudy button in the corner that excitedly encouraged you to Spin!!!

As Marge finished typing her information and handed it to Katie, Jennifer started skimming the rule booklet. “Ah. So once you spin, you shrink one percent of your height for every second it takes to complete your move.”

“This is unfair,” Lana grumbled as she accepted the spinner next.

“Whaddya mean?”

“Katie’s so much taller than me! She has more reach, and even if she goes slow, she still has so many inches to spare—meanwhile, I’ll be a speck before you know it!” Despite her griping, she also began to type.

“I’m not that tall,” Katie mumbled.

“And we’re working off percentages, not inches per second,” Jennifer pointed out.

“Yup!” Marge pulled out the mat and laid it on the floor. Besides the normal rows of dots, it also had much smaller ones crowding around the circumference of each dot. “Since Katie’s six feet, she’ll be losing 0.72 inches every second. You’re five foot two, so you’re shrinking 0.62 inches. Right now, you’ve got a ten-inch difference. After twenty seconds, Katie would have lost 14.4 inches, bringing her down to 57.6, and you’ll have lost 12.4, so 49.6, making the difference eight inches instead of ten, which is a decrease of—“

“Okay okay, enough with the math,” Lana sighed, passing the spinner to Jennifer, who quietly typed her information in. “So I’m guessing standard rules, except you shrink?”

Marge shook her head. “Actually, instead of everybody going at once, we all take turns to spin. Otherwise the game can’t differentiate between who’s already put their foot down and who hasn’t.” Taking the spinner from Jennifer, she pulled out a wire from it that Katie hadn’t noticed before and plugged it into the mat. Then she held up the spinner and pointed to the display at the top. “It’s got all our names up here and the percentage height we have left. When we punched in our information just now, it…well I dunno exactly how it does it, but it like, recorded our bodies so it knows which ones to shrink? But it’s not smart enough to tell the players apart, so it just bases it on whose turn it is.” She set the spinner carefully on the floor, then paused in thought. “Oh, by the way, you can’t use the smaller dots until you’re small enough that your entire hand can fit in them.”

When Marge made the first spin (“Left foot, blue!”), Katie stared intently at her—out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lana and Jennifer leaning forward too—but Marge didn’t seem terribly different as she stepped onto the mat. It was a little disappointing; but then again, one percent wasn’t really much of a difference.

Katie pressed the button, and as soon as the spinner landed…

“Oh—!” she gasped, unconsciously stiffening as a strange sensation ran up her spine, as though some sort of ethereal hand was trailing—

“Katie!” Marge snapped.

Katie shook her head. “Huh?”

“You may want to keep an eye on the time,” Jennifer told her with a wry smirk.

“What?” Katie blinked, then realized with a start that the world around her was noticeably edging ever upwards. “Agh!!” she yelped, practically lunging for a red dot. The sensation ceased once her hand touched it.

“Damn, I really wanted to measure myself against her,” Lana said with a laugh, crouching next to Katie. “You just stood there for like, three seconds.”

“C’mon, stop wasting time!” Marge complained, shooing Lana towards the spinner.

“You were really looking forward to this, huh?”

When Jennifer joined everyone else on the mat, she commented, “It’s a little crowded.”

“Pretty sure that’ll change,” Lana drawled as everybody continued cycling through the turn order quietly while they conversed.

“Well, the rate is still slow, so not for a while—‘scuse me, scootch that spinner over here.”

“In that case, stop being so quick.”

“You’re one to talk, you’re flinging your feet around like bullets.”

“I gotta keep what size I can!”

Katie squeezed an arm past someone’s leg to start the spinner, but right before it stopped, the leg suddenly leaned in front of it. “Lana!” Katie wailed, trying to see around the leg and ignore the tingling that spread through her body. The arrow had slowed down at the right foot section, but what color was it?! She aimed at a yellow dot and groaned in aggravation when her appendages still slid against the mat as they contracted. “That’s cheating!”

“All’s fair,” Lana replied smugly, finally moving her leg back.

Katie course-corrected to blue. “Funny way to love someone.”

“I was talking about war!”

Marge, the only other one bent low like Katie so far, rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to take games so seriously all the time.”

“That’s what losers say.”

“So,” Jennifer cut in, joining Marge and Katie on the floor. Her glasses were askew from having to squeeze between Lana’s legs. She tried to straighten them, but they continued to slide off her nose. “What are we going to do when none of us can spin the spinner?”

Silence.

“I can spin for you guys if both your hands get full,” Lana said from above. “It’s not gonna shrink me if I’m the one spinning, right?”

“No, like I said, it’s based on turn order.” Marge scrunched her face in thought. “Maybe one of us will get eliminated before it comes to that?”

“Or someone could forfeit for the good of the game,” Jennifer suggested.

“That’s dumb,” Lana scoffed.

Katie squinted up at Lana. “How have you not spun any of your hands yet, anyways?”

“Skill.”

“You better not be cheating.”

“It’s a digital spinner?? How the hell can I cheat???”

“I dunno, maybe you—mmfph?!?!” Katie mmfph’ed as Marge pressed her pudgy stomach up against her face.

“Sorry,” Marge grunted, not sounding particularly sorry. “Just trying to reach the spinner.”

They were starting to reach sizes where the shrinking was visibly noticeable, even in the few seconds that it took to end their turns. Katie stared as Marge seemed to sink towards the floor. In their contorted positions, it was difficult to gauge how their new sizes compared to each other, but Marge’s hand was nearby and Katie was pretty sure that if she set hers over it, it would completely disappear from view. The thought filled her with a strange sense of wonder.

Jennifer squirmed somewhere behind Katie’s shoulder with a strained groan. “Alright, looks like I’m handless now.” There was a sudden clattering sound. “…Can someone get my glasses off the mat, please?”

“No prob,” Marge said, this time swinging her arm so her loose sleeve whapped Katie’s ear.

Actually, was Marge’s sleeve supposed to be that loose?

“Hey, Marge?” said Katie, suddenly aware of how her sweatpants seemed to sag more than usual. “Quick question. Do our clothes shrink with us…?”

“No,” Marge replied in a tone that suggested Katie was being obtuse.

“Huh,” Lana said. “No wonder I’ve been having to re-tie my hair.

Katie stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “Alright. I’m done,” she declared, letting herself fall to the floor so she could crawl out of the tangle of bodies.

“Boooooo, wimp,” Lana jeered.

Katie tried not to blush as she pulled her sweatpants taut. “You realize I can see your underwear, right?”

It was true. Although Lana’s jeans were still standing by virtue of its stiffer material, the waist gaped open around her, allowing anybody to just look into it. Lana, her stance wide, just shrugged. “We’ve changed in locker rooms together.”

“Hey,” Marge called out, craning her neck up at Katie. “Since you’re free, tell us how we’re doing?”

Katie tried to roll her sleeves up and crouched by the spinner. Her own name was now crossed out (seemed like the game could tell when someone had left the mat). “I’m at 69 percent,” she announced.

“Nice,” said Lana with a grin.

“And?” Jennifer prompted.

“Umm…Marge is at 76, Lana’s at 80, and Jennifer’s at 78.”

“Haha, damn, Katie! You suck at this!”

Katie rolled her eyes, standing up again. “Well, if someone hadn’t—“

Lana stared at Katie oddly. “What? Why’re you looking at me like…” She blinked. Then, grinned widely. “Well, well, well.”

Katie tried to say something as they stood facing each other, eye-to-eye(!), but inconveniently, she seemed to have forgotten the concept of language. She could only watch in silence, heart pounding in her ears, as Lana rested a hand on the top of her head, slowly comparing their heights.

“Damn, still a tiny bit shorter,” Lana said, though the glee in her voice didn’t vanish. “But I bet if I was actually standing straight…”

Both of them looked down at Lana’s legs. How tall would she be if they weren’t spread across the mat? Would she be level with Katie? Or perhaps…actually be looking down—

“Oh my god stop flirting!!” Marge shouted at them from below. “My arms are getting tired!”

Lana reached down to pick up the spinner, maintaining eye contact the whole time, and stood back up. “Hmm. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll find out,” she said, pressing the button.

They looked at the result. Lana’s smile instantly dropped. “Aw nuts,” she groused, handing the spinner to Katie and bending down to join the rest of the group on their hands.

Katie fumbled with the spinner—it had been clunky to begin with and it was even clunkier now that she was smaller—and set it back on the floor near Lana’s free hand. “I-I’m getting some water,” she said, walking quickly away, only to stumble over the bottom of her pants. She hiked them back up, ignoring Lana’s cackle, and continued a bit slower.

In the kitchen, out of sight, she was able to calm down. Okay, not all the way down, but at least she could think coherently. Enough for her current situation to really sink in.

Her head was just barely over the kitchen counter. She could still reach the upper cabinets, but it was a bit of a stretch to grab a cup. And the cup itself felt so unwieldy that she held it with both hands, afraid she would drop it otherwise. (At least the water dispenser on the fridge wasn’t too hard to deal with.)

She had basically lost a third of her height. “That’s like, two feet,” Katie mumbled to herself in a daze. She was shorter than anybody she knew. Shorter than any adult she knew, anyways. She brought the cup to her lips and winced when she accidentally knocked it against her teeth, then tried again more carefully as she wandered around.

It was just too bizarre. After years of generally being the tallest in any room, here she was, dwarfed by everyday objects. Hell, her own clothes were threatening to fall off her. (Really getting annoying, having to pull up her sleeves every few seconds.) But it was fascinating, to measure herself against a chair, to grab a drawer handle and feel how it filled her hand, to hold a spoon and find that it could cover half of her face. Even when she heard a yelp, followed closely by a thump (which was then closely followed by Lana whooping), she couldn’t help but stay here, steadily comparing herself to a world that used to be so familiar.

Eventually, she ran out of things to do, and so she headed back to the living room.

Marge was sitting on the floor, the spinner taking up her lap. On the mat, Lana and Jennifer were still duking it out. And once again, Katie was thrown for a loop.

Everybody had gotten smaller, which was to be expected. Katie just hadn’t been prepared for what that would look like.

Marge looked up at her and waved as she approached. “Welcome back! I was worried you got lost.”

Katie stared. “…What percentage are you at…?”

In response, Marge held up eight fingers.

Katie frowned. “You are not eight percent.”

“Huh? No, you’re reading it wrong. I’m trying to say 53.”

“Ohhh.” Katie sat down next to her, feeling much too aware of the fact that Marge’s head was below her shoulders. While Katie was simply struggling with her shirt, Marge was swimming in it, the ends draping easily over her legs. And on the mat, Lana and Jennifer seemed on the verge of drowning in theirs. They hadn’t gotten smaller than their shirts quite yet, but they were getting there. As Katie watched them, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was sitting on the bleachers, above an arena housing the strangest wrestling match ever. (How was it possible to feel so big and so small at the same time?)

“Lana. Can you please get your hair out of my face?”

“It’s in my face too. Deal with it.”

“It’s getting in my mouth. Do you really want me coating your hair with my saliva?”

“Look, at this point, I can’t tie it up even if I wanted to, so I guess you’ll have to live with my hair in your mouth. And I’ll have to live with your mouth on my hair.”

“Pffbbbph, ppfffeh, bleagh,” Jennifer replied.

“They’re both reaching the halfway point,” Marge informed Katie, beaming. “Right now, Lana’s at 51 and Jennifer’s at 52.”

Katie squinted. For whatever reason, despite her percentage advantage, Jennifer looked smaller than Lana. But maybe she wasn’t seeing things right.

“Marge, spin it already!” Lana cried out, her arms shaking. She was in a slightly unfortunate position; one foot was still on a normal-sized dot, and given her current size, her other foot had to reach quite far to clear its radius. She was also currently arched over Jennifer’s back, and that was clearly forcing her to distribute her weight oddly.

“Right, okay,” Marge said, cheerfully enjoying her role as the announcer. “Oooh, left foot yellow!”

“Oh god finally,” Lana sighed out, moving her foot away from the normal-sized dot.

Katie leaned down to Marge. “Do you want to sit on the couch instead? Hardwood isn’t exactly comfortable.”

“Oh man, that would be great. But I’ll probably need your help,” Marge said, getting to her feet, somehow still able to heft the spinner with her.

Katie hopped onto the couch, then reached down to pull Marge up as well. Without thinking about it, she plopped Marge onto her lap. Which…maybe she should have asked first, but it didn’t seem like Marge objected. Katie scootched away from the edge, hugging Marge close. (It was like hugging a large teddy bear.)

“Both of them are below 50 percent,” Marge said excitedly. “They sure are tenacious. You think one of them might break 40? Right hand, red!”

“That would be fun,” Katie said, imagining what it would be like to be twice as tall as someone.

“G-give it up already,” Lana gritted out. “You’re not gonna be able to reach other spots at this rate.”

“You’re the one who sounds like you’ve reached your limit,” Jennifer countered, sounding quite bold despite the blatant size disparity. If Lana collapsed, then Jennifer was quite possibly in danger of getting smothered. Katie set Marge to the side and slowly dropped to the floor again, watching them warily.

“Left hand, red!”

Lana reached for a red dot, sinking lower and lower until she couldn’t help but rest her body on top of Jennifer’s. As it became clear that her first choice wasn’t getting any closer, Lana groaned and glanced around for another option, when all of a sudden, Jennifer bucked upwards, bouncing against Lana and causing her to lose her balance and sprawl onto the mat with a squawk.

“Jennifer wins!” Marge cheered, applauding from the couch.

Lana sat up, clutching her shirt around her. “No! She totally cheated!”

“You’re one to talk,” Katie said, crouching next to her, casting quite a (relatively) wide shadow. Lana stared up at her, eyes wide. “Hey Marge, what’s the final score?”

“Lana’s at 42, Jennifer made it to 45!”

"Hmm, so not quite half my height," Katie mused, clasping her hands on either side of Lana, feeling a flutter in her chest upon seeing how her hands spanned a significant part of Lana's chest.

"Actually," Marge called out, "in terms of absolute values instead of relative, she might as well be half your height!"

Katie could feel Lana's heart thumping under her thumb. "Is that so?"

Lana smiled nervously. "So, I know I was teasing you before, but—waugh!!"

Lifting Lana up was so remarkably easy that Katie couldn't help but feel a thrill rush through her lungs. And strangely enough, though Lana was the one flailing in her oversized shirt, it was Katie who ended up blushing with embarrassment. Which just made her feel even more embarrassed, because what sort of person would feel—

"Um, Katie? You probably don't wanna be holding her right now," said Marge.

"Huh?" was all Katie managed before, quite suddenly, the floor seemed to disappear out from under her.

The fall was short at least, but she ended up a bit tangled in her own shirt. Somewhere in front of her, Lana also thudded against the floor with an "oof." Katie scrambled around a bit before she managed to claw her way out. "What the heck happened—"

Ah.

Katie unconsciously retreated a bit into her shirt, finding that the world, Lana included, had gotten much bigger. Lana, recovering from her own fall, caught sight of her and pointed. "Ha!!"

"I shrunk again?!"

"Of course," Marge said. It seemed that she had gotten tired of shouting from the couch, as she had begun carefully climbing down. She also had some sort of cloth wrapped around her in place of clothes—looked like she was prepared. "I mean, it doesn't make sense if the loser ends up being the biggest and the winner the smallest. When the game ends, everybody's heights get redistributed. Which means right now, Katie, you're at 42 percent. I'm at 45, Lana's at 53, and Jennifer..."

A long shadow drifted over them, dropping towel-sized tissues. "You may want to have these."

As it turned out, 69 percent of Jennifer was quite large, even when sitting down. Katie jumped to her feet, hastily wrapping a tissue around herself, and she still found her eye level hovering around Jennifer's chin. As Katie continued to gape, Jennifer waved. "Anybody know where my glasses are?"

"Over here!" Marge jogged towards the discarded glasses and flagged her down. With a graceful ease that didn't belong to someone so big, Jennifer reached over and set them on the nearby coffee table.

"Excuse me," Jennifer said, shifting her legs (oh god, she's going to stand up). "I'm going to get something real quick." And with that, she pushed herself to her feet (oh god, she stood up), tugging her shirt down demurely, and headed somewhere else in the house.

"Wait!" Marge shouted, running after her futilely. "No! Hang on! We should all be together for the next part!"

Katie's heart had just about calmed when something suddenly dropped on her head. "Well, lookie here," Lana's voice drawled. From above.

She could already feel her heart start up again before she even turned her head, and yup, that was Lana's arm leaning on her, and yup, Lana was definitely taller.

This time, Katie wasn't so speechless (no height difference was going to be more shocking than Jennifer's). But for some godforsaken reason, the only thing she could think to say was, "How's the weather up there?" Her voice even had the indecency to crack.

Lana blinked at her, then laughed. "Pretty good, I think. Y'know, you're cute like this. Being short suits you."

"Shut up," Katie mumbled, shoving Lana's arm.

"You're so easy to tease. It's too bad you aren't any smaller. I'd have loved to pick you up."

Amazingly, Katie's heart didn't explode. "This is small enough, thank you very much," she retorted, just in time for Marge to trudge back from her failed mission to cajole Jennifer back.

"Oh," Marge said. "Well. Bad news on that front."

Katie's stomach dropped as she looked down at Marge. "...What does that mean...?"

"Sooooo there's another thing that happens after this, which is, Jennifer's gonna grow back to full size," Marge explained, rocking on her feet. "Then, the percentage difference that she grew is gonna, sorta, kinda affect our sizes as well."

"What."

"Oooh, you don't say."

"She's growing 31 percent. Second place gets to grow half of that—15.5 percent—third place shrinks 15.5 percent, and then last place—"

"I'm shrinking an extra 31 percent?!" Katie screeched as Lana doubled over, howling with laughter. And at that moment, as if waiting for the perfect timing, the floor fell out from under Katie the second time that day.

She landed in her now blanket-sized tissue (maybe slightly larger? tarp-sized?), feeling like the punchline of a cosmic joke. From another room, she heard a rather loud bang of something else falling.

"You okay, Jennifer?!" Marge called out.

"Yes, sorry! Give me a moment!"

Before Katie could properly wrap herself up, she found herself whisked off the floor, haphazardly bundled in a tissue burrito. She kicked the air, watching as she was lifted up and up and up, until she was turned around and finally came face-to-face with Lana. Or, more like body-to-face.

"Now this is cute."

What had once been a reasonable height difference (if an unreasonable height) was now just ridiculous. Katie clung to Lana's thumb, feeling her face go red. Lana's mouth (bigger than her head) frowned, and she felt the grip around her loosen a bit. "I'm not holding you too tight, am I?"

"Nope," Katie squeaked, and shielded her face as Lana's low chuckle gusted over her.

"Ah, hang on, I should probably replace my tissue," Lana said, reaching behind her for her shirt. Instead of getting put back down, Katie found herself along for the ride, brushing against dark fabric before reemerging in the light. Lana tugged at her drooping collar, pursing her lips. "Well...good enough, I guess."

"Hey!" Marge called up. "Lemme see her too!"

"Sure," Lana said with an easy grin, setting Katie back down on her feet. As she stumbled, Marge caught her with hands as broad as her shoulders.

"Wow, this is surreal," Marge commented. Katie, standing right around her thighs, silently agreed. "Honestly, I didn't expect anybody to get this small. This...isn't too much for you, is it...?"

"A bit late to ask me," Katie said, with only a minor amount of hysteria.

Marge gave her a sheepish shrug, then looked back towards the hallway. "Now seriously, what the heck is Jennifer doing?"

"Jennifer is getting decent," came the response. And a second later, Jennifer reappeared, ducking back into the living room. Not wearing her clothes, though. For whatever reason, she had tied some sheets around her bust and waist. "Sorry Marge. I had to borrow some things," she added, approaching them, and oh my god.

"Jesus Christ," Lana said, taking a few steps back. Marge froze, clutching Katie's shoulders. Which was useful, because without that, Katie was sure that she would fall over from Jennifer's steps alone.

They continued to stare for a while as Jennifer sat down. Jennifer stared back, fidgeting.

"So, is it just 'cause I'm shrunk," Lana said, "or is Jennifer...bigger than she should be?"

"Isn't it just because we're shrunk?" Katie asked, squinting as she tried comparing everything relative to everything else. (The only result she got was, 'everything sure is big.')

"Katie," Marge said, "her head was almost touching the ceiling just now."

"Oh," said Katie, not really able to say anything to that.

"I may have done something a bit silly," Jennifer told them in a measured tone.

Marge sighed. "...Did you put in a different height?"

Jennifer's eyes darted to the side. "Yes."

"Wait, you can do that???" Lana's head whirled between Jennifer and Marge.

"I thought you were shrinking a bit too fast," Marge muttered, rubbing her temples. "What did you put in?"

"Eight feet," Jennifer said matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

Jennifer shrugged. "I was curious what would happen. Where's Katie? I can't wear my glasses."

"Over here!" Katie shouted, hiking up her ridiculously large tissue-toga and walking over. Jennifer squinted down at her and lowered a hand. Katie hopped onto it, dizzily noting that it easily fit her whole body.

"Oh wow," Jennifer said, her mouth twitching into a small smile. "This is interesting."

With another sigh, Marge approached as well, trying to hoist herself onto Jennifer's knee, only to get scooped up in Jennifer's other arm. "You do realize that you're stuck at that size now?"

"Mm. I just have to play another game and put in my right height."

"Ooh!" Lana said excitedly, running up and vaulting into Jennifer's lap. "If we're doing this again, I'm gonna give myself four more inches!"

Katie shifted in her seat, feeling the fingers under her twitch reflexively. "Maybe I'll take off two inches."

"Starting to enjoy the short life?" Lana called up, and it was probably a good thing she couldn't see her blush from down there.

"In any case," Jennifer said, "we have about an hour until then...what shall we do?"

[obxsummer]

Careful for Me // JJ Maybank

jj maybank x reader

warnings: season 2 episode 5 spoilers, cursing, angst

summary below cut to avoid spoiling

a/n: i added a spin to this because i can't write a piece without angst apparently whoops

part of #obx2celebration

masterlist

ask me anything

request: "I like being wanted." "You should NOT like be wanted by the police!" with JJ 💀💀 this would be great during the part where he steals the ambulance and the others go to get him and y/n’s smacking him in the backseat

--

JJ had done a lot of stupid shit in his life. Everyone knew that. It’s what he was known for around Kildare. Having him as a boyfriend always kept you on your toes, that was for certain. You were used to him breaking things, blowing things up, causing chaos, and literally nothing surprises you from him anymore. While JJ could piss you off sometimes, you loved the adrenaline rush that came from being with him. He brought you so much happiness and laughter every second you spent together.

You, Kie, and Pope were hanging at the Chateau, celebrating Pope’s recovery of the key to the Island Room. You were on a buzz of excitement. You couldn’t believe there was a chance you guys could figure out this puzzle and possibly recover a treasure.

“I say we have a celebratory toast!” Pope said as he walked towards the fridge. You nodded in agreement and grabbed your phone as Kie turned the lights back on. You had tried so hard to stay positive, especially with John B in prison, but you worried JJ wouldn’t be able to handle the idea of his best friend being somewhere he didn’t deserve.

Your boyfriend’s name was on your phone screen, multiple messages attached to it. Your heart sank at three letters.

SOS! NOW!

“Shit!” You shouted as you were on your feet in a second. “Kie, I need you to drive, now! JJ’s in trouble.”

“Okay, okay. Pope, let’s go!” Your best friend ran in chaotic circles to grab her keys and sprint out the door. You clambered in the back seat, letting Pope take co-pilot. “What happened?” She asked as she floored it out of the Chateau driveway.

You couldn’t get your fingers to stop shaking enough to send a text to JJ in response. Your adrenaline was pumping and you feared you wouldn’t be able to bay off a panic attack until you got to your boyfriend. “You know how JJ faked appendicitis that one time?”

“During the math test, yeah,” Pope answered.

“Well, he told John B to try it and JJ was going to borrow his cousin’s ambulance and-”

“Y/N, breathe,” Kie directed as she turned a corner. You had started talking way too fast out of anxiousness and it was nearly impossible to understand what you were saying.

You took a deep breath and pulled the hood up on JJ’s hoodie that was on your body. “JJ’s in the back of an ambulance with someone who isn’t John B and the cops know he’s not a real paramedic. He’s at 23rd and Main. We have to stop them so he can buy time to get out.”

Kie and Pope were silent for a moment before they spoke up at the same time, “What?!”

You pressed JJ’s sleeve against your face and tried to calm down with the scent of his clothes. You sniffled, wiping away the sudden tears. “We have to get to him, you guys. I can’t lose JJ and John B in the same week.”

You had taken John B’s imprisonment really hard. The two of you had been thick as thieves as kids, and you had been there to mourn Big John every second John B needed you. He was like your big brother, always stepping in when you needed him and looking out for you. You were silently crumbling and losing both of your boys would definitely be the last straw in your cracking walls.

“We’ll find him, Y/N,” Kie’s voice was quiet amongst the anxious tension in the car. You nodded even though she couldn’t see you in the darkness of the car. Pulling your knees to your chest, you tucked your body between the seat and the car door as you tried to calm your racing nerves.

“There they are!” Pope pointed to where a large group of flashing lights was racing around the corner. “Kie!”

“I see them, I see them!” She said as she pushed the pedal down further, willing the car to speed up. Right when she hit the intersection, she slammed on the breaks, launching you forward in your seats as the ambulance stopped short from hitting you. “Sorry!” Kiara called unapologetically as she rolled the window down. “I’m so sorry!”

“Move! Get your car out of the road!” The officer in the ambulance shouted as he waved urgently. Your eyes glanced over to see a figure in white take off from behind the bumper of the ambulance. You sat up straighter once you pieced together that JJ was actually getting away.

“Sorry, she just got her license,” Pope lied as the officer continued to yell at you guys. Kie gave a short wave before moving through the intersection and into the adjacent neighborhood where JJ had taken off running. She drove slower as you waited for JJ to come through the clearing. You rolled down the window in hopes of seeing the yards better. Once JJ’s form broke through the tree line, you let out a sigh of relief. You pushed the car door open before sliding across the seat to the other side so JJ could scramble in.

“Go, go, go!” He shouted as he slammed the door shut behind him. Once Kie was a comfortable distance away from where she had left the ambulance, JJ let out a groan and sank into the seat at an uncomfortable angle.

“I’m seriously not even gonna ask,” Kie commented as she continued to drive.

JJ raised his hands innocently. “Look, I busted the wrong guy out of jail, sue me.”

“Why are you always doing such stupid shit?” Pope asked as he turned to look at the boy next to you.

“I like being wanted,” JJ responded simply with a shrug.

You looked at your boyfriend like he grew another eye. “You should not be wanted by the cops!” You reached over and smacked his arm lightly. “God, JJ do you understand how worried I was?” You continued to hit him again and again as you let out your stress and worry in a kind, loving manner.

“I’m gonna end up in jail anyway so, so why does it matter?” JJ asked as he ignored you and leaned his head back against the headrest. He hadn’t had the best night, but now he was even more disappointed in himself that John B was still in prison and there was nothing he could do.

You shared a glance with Kiara in the rearview mirror. Turning towards JJ, your hand hovered from where you went to smack his knee but instead, you placed it down gently on his warm skin. “J, you okay?” He nodded silently, taking your hand in his. The ride was relatively quiet all the way back to the Chateau.

JJ broke away as soon as the car stopped to go in and shower. Pope followed in after him, mumbling something about being too tired for this kinda shit. Kie hung back, her hand resting on your shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay?”

You nodded and rubbed your face with your hands before pulling JJ's hoodie sleeves down further. “I'm just… worried, about JJ, about John B. It’s just…” You let out a deep breath before looking back at her. “I’ll be fine, promise.”

Realizing you didn’t want to talk much, she gave you a smile and nodded before going inside. You glanced at the door in case anyone decided to make a sudden appearance but once you realized you were in the clear, you made your way towards the hammock and plopped down. Looking out over the water, you could hear the crickets having a field day in the surrounding trees.

A stray tear or two dripped down your cheek as the stress from the day set in. You were the worrier of the Pogues, that was for certain. You always looked out for everyone else, hence the reason you took such a kick when John B was arrested. It was your job to look out for your friends, to make sure everyone was okay. You felt like you constantly had to have eyes on JJ, and as much as you loved him, you needed to know he would be okay if you weren’t around one day.

“Sweetheart?” You glanced over your shoulder to see JJ standing on the steps of the Chateau. He was out of the ridiculous paramedic uniform and instead in a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt. You turned around and quickly wiped the tears from your eyes, refusing to let him know you were upset.

Leaves crunched under JJ’s shoes as he approached you. He walked around the side of the hammock to sit next to you. “Look at me, please.” His hand gently touched your cheek, forcing you to look over at him. You quickly dropped your gaze so you didn’t make eye contact with him. “Baby, I’m sorry,” He mumbled. “I wasn’t thinking right, I just wanted to get John B back because he doesn’t deserve to be there. It’s not his fault.”

“I know, J, I want him back too. But I can’t lose you in the process.” You looked up at him, letting him see the tears in your eyes for the first time that night. You could see the guilt in his eyes weigh heavier as he looked away. “JJ, John B is in jail… and I know it’s not right, and I’m not happy about it either. I’m really struggling with the thought of what he’s going through, but I need to know that you can handle yourself if I’m not there. You can’t be going around stealing ambulances and trying to break him out of prison because if you get caught then…” You trailed off as you shook your head slightly. “You have to be careful, if not for yourself, then be careful for me, because I can’t lose you both, okay? I can’t lose you.”

JJ wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest as you sobbed. He felt awful. Sometimes he gets too far ahead of himself and it all gets projected on you. He knew he was reckless, and out of control at moments, but JJ always, always thought of you in the highest form. He loved you, you were his everything, and sometimes, he just needed a check on how grateful he was of you. “I’m so sorry, baby,” He whispered as he pressed a kiss on your temple. “I didn’t think far enough ahead, I just want him home safe, with us. Here.”

You nodded in agreement. “Me too, J. But we can’t risk ourselves and what we know to get him out. We have to trust the process, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay.” He hummed quietly, his fingers playing with the cuff of your sleeve. Sometimes, JJ reminded himself, someone needed to take care of you. You worked so hard to make sure everyone else was okay that you rarely took a second to make sure you were okay yourself, and it was his responsibility to watch you. He forgot that, he knew now, seeing you so upset over the events of the week. You needed him as much as he needed you.

You looked up at him, fingers dancing along his jawline. You gently kissed his cheek before moving to his nose and forehead then ending with a long kiss on his lips. “Just so you know, I’ll always want you. Every bit of you. So, let’s not be wanted by the police, okay?”

JJ laughed, the smile on his face making you grin. “Yeah, yeah. I can do that.”

The two of you ended your night under the stars, with you wrapped in JJ’s arms and him endlessly in love with you.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing

Masterlist

Chapter 8

Spencer checked his phone one last time as he brushed his teeth before bed. He saw one notification from you.

Hey, could you watch Jo Friday night by any chance? If not, I can ask my sitter.

The BAU had just wrapped a long case and Hotch sent everyone home Thursday night saying paperwork could wait until Monday morning so Spencer was free.

Of course.

Great! You could just stay at the house if you would like because I don’t know if I’ll be back before her bedtime. Is 6 okay?

Perfect. See you then.

Spencer plugged his phone into its charger and set it down on his night side, turning off the lamp and letting the exhaustion take over.

-

Spencer headed over to Y/N’s at around 5:30, picking up some strawberry ice cream and rainbow sprinkles on the way for Jo.

When you opened the front door, Spencer’s jaw went slack. You were in a tight dark purple dress that showed off your figure beautifully. Most of the time, you had your hair pulled back but tonight you wore it down. Spencer was gawking at you for so long that you cleared your throat to snap him out of his trance.

“Jo’s already had dinner and all the emergency numbers are on the fridge,” you said, walking back into the kitchen, clipping your earrings in.

“I brought dessert,” Spencer lifted the bag up slightly.

“Bribing Jo to be the favorite parent already, I see,” you joked.

Spencer chuckled, still not taking his eyes off you.

“Big plans?” he asked tentatively.

“Um yeah sorta. Do you know Professor Stevens from the math department? He asked me on a date and I agreed. I’m kind of nervous though, I haven’t been on a date in a while,” you fidgeted nervously with your hands, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You look beautiful,” Spencer spoke softly.

“Daddy!” Jo came running into the kitchen.

“Hey Jo!” he lifted her up, “Are you ready to have some fun?”

Jo nodded enthusiastically, “I want to play Twister!”

“Is that a board game?” he questioned.

You laughed, patting him on the shoulder, “Have fun with that one. I’m afraid I will not be able to join because I’ve got to go.”

“Bye, Jo. Love you,” you kissed her forehead while she was still being held in Spencer’s arms.

“Love you too, Mommy,” she replied.

You grabbed your purse and keys and gave Spencer a quick wave.

“Alright, you’re going to need to explain to me how Twister works, Jo,” he said after the front door closed.

-

“Right hand, green,” Spence spoke after spinning.

Jo easily placed her right hand on the green dot closest to her. Spencer, however, was already all tangled up. His left foot and hand were on yellow and his right foot was on red, meaning he had to stick his right hand under his legs to get to the green dot. He was barely keeping his balance. This game was not made for the uncoordinated.

“Left hand, also green,” Jo giggled, knowing there was no way Spencer could make this move without falling.

Spencer attempted to move his left hand but soon toppled over on to the white mat. Jo burst out laughing.

“Alright, alright, Jo is clearly the big winner of the night and to celebrate, she gets two whole scoops of ice cream and Daddy only gets one,” he smiled.

“Daddy, you can have two too!” she said.

“That is very generous of you, Jo,” Spencer scooped their ice cream into bowls.

After the dessert was gone, Jo’s eyes fought to remain open.

Spencer noticed this and let out a fake yawn, stretching his arms wide in the air.

“I’m so tired. How about we brush our teeth, get into our pjs, and go to bed?” he suggested.

Jo replicated his yawn in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled, picking Jo up.

Spencer helped Jo get all ready for bed before finally tucking her in.

“Caltechia,” she mumbled.

Spencer nodded, surprised she remembered that story.

“One day, the clumsy knight was asked to guard the pretty princess of Caltechia. It was an offer he couldn’t refuse, she was so much fun and a delight to be around. They played for hours and hours. The Queen of Caltechia was busy with other important matters that day. She was visiting the prince of another kingdom nearby. The knight did not like the prince very much and was very jealous that he got to be graced with the Queen’s presence for the evening. The prince seemed very full of himself and the knight also had a PhD in mathematics and it was his easiest one to get so it’s not that hard-” Spencer’s eyes widened when he realized his story was turning into a jealous rant.

Luckily, Jo was already asleep. He kissed her forehead and whispered, “I love you, my princess,” before slowly exiting the room.

-

Spencer was reading his second novel of the night on the couch when he heard the door unlock.

You didn’t turn to face him.

“H-Hey, how’d it go?” Spencer cringed at his awkwardness.

“Good!” you tried to say cheerfully but your voice cracked and you sniffled a little.

As you made your way up the stairs without another word, Spencer noticed your puffy red eyes and streaks of smudged mascara dripping down your face.

He heard Jo’s bedroom door open quietly and then close again seconds later and then your bedroom door opened and was immediately shut.

Spencer sat on the couch for ten more minutes, debating his options. He didn’t know whether it was best to leave you alone or try to comfort you.

He slowly walked up the staircase and knocked softly on your door.

“Y/N? Do you want to talk about it?” he spoke softly.

Moments later, Spencer heard a meek “come in”.

You were lying face flat on your pillow with your dress still on, your heels had been discarded at the foot of the bed.

“What did he do?” Spencer asked, looking at you sympathetically and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

You sat up, “I thought he already knew about Jo but apparently he just wasn’t listening. When he saw my phone wallpaper of her, he freaked out and said he ‘didn’t want to be a step-dad’. We were on a first date getting dinner, it wasn’t like I was proposing marriage to him,” you sniffled.

“He’s an asshole, I’m sorry,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug, “he doesn’t deserve you, Y/N”.

You pulled back slightly after a few seconds, looking Spencer in the eyes. You both started leaning forward ever so slowly until your lips were on his. You allowed yourself to enjoy it for a brief moment before pulling away completely.

“See you Monday” is all you said, getting off the bed and walking to the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

Spencer was left on your bed in utter shock. His lips still tingling and his heart still fluttering. He cleared his throat to compose himself and left your room, checking on Jo one more time before heading back to his apartment.

-

Spencer had only seen you for a brief amount of time since your kiss. He wanted to talk about it but it seemed like you were always purposely near Jo when he came over in the morning to pick her up for school, using her as a buffer to avoid the conversation with him.

Spencer was in the Georgetown faculty lounge, refilling his coffee mug when he heard the obnoxious voice of Professor Stevens. His festering anger began to boil.

“I was just looking to get laid. She’s hot but I didn’t know she came with all this extra baggage. I don’t want to be stuck raising some other dude’s kid,” Professor Stevens said to a group of men.

Spencer calmly set his mug down and walked over to Professor Stevens, tapping him on the shoulder. As soon as he turned around, Spencer punched him square in the jaw.

-

Spencer had asked you to pick up Jo from school for him which was weird because he hardly missed his days unless a case came up. He didn’t give a reason this time though, just saying he would explain later.

There was a knock on the door after dinner and you answered it with Jo right behind you.

“Daddy!” she lifted her arms upwards towards Spencer but he didn’t immediately pick her up like usual.

He looked at the hand shoved in his pocket before pulling it out, revealing bandaged knuckles, and picking Jo up.

“Daddy got a boo-boo,” Jo pointed to the injured hand, kissing it three times.

“Thank you, princess,” Spencer kissed the top of her head, “That helped.”

“Jo, want to watch TV for a little? Daddy is going to help Mommy in the kitchen,” you eyed Spencer suspiciously.

Jo nodded and Spencer set her down on the couch, turning on Looney Tunes before following you into the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay, follow-up question, who deserved to be punched that bad at nine in the morning?” you asked.

“Professor Stevens,” Spencer mumbled.

“I see,” your lips turned up slightly at the corners as you took out a pack of frozen peas from the freezer, placing them over Spencer’s bruised knuckles.

[tobi-momo]

Them Congratulating You On Getting Your Grades Up

PAIRINGS: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader | Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader | Tsukishima Kei x Reader | Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

GENRE: fluff, crack (?), comfort (?)

WARNINGS: none :p

A/N: ok so I meant to write this a long time ago but...it obvs didn't happen ig- this is so self indulgent im- I wrote this bc i recently got most of my grades up from F's to B's and I'm proud so I want to show you guys how they would be proud of you too!!!

the moment you show him your new grades he's pulling you tight into his embrace

He had been helping you with your assignments for months now, staying up late with you on either video call or he was physically with you, comforting you when the stress was too much

But now all that work has paid off and your grade has finally got up, he couldn't be happier for you

His hands hold you firmly against him as you squeal into his shoulder, chuckles of his own seeping from his mouth

“I Did it. Finally,” you breathe out, like a 300 pound weight was lifted off your shoulders

“You did, Baby, and I’m so proud of you.”

You could cry, right now, honestly

You can bet your ASS hes buying you dinner- whatever you want bc its YOUR day

Hes gonna treat you like absolute ROYALTY (more than he already does, obvs)

A calming night with movies and cuddling would suffice too, he thought, bringing a soft, fleece blanket to your figure before letting you make yourself comfortable on his body, laying on the couch

You deserved this, after all your hard work :)

When you told him your grade went up, he just chuckles lightly before waking over with ease, patting you on the head a couple times before sincerely saying, “That’s amazing, Y/n, good job,” with a smile

He hadn’t helped you as much as he’d liked too, but he could see how hard you were working for this.

You had missed multiple calls and texts from him because you were studying, you arrive to school with dark circles under your eyes because of how late you stayed up for this-

You worked so damn hard for this, and you're finally getting what you wanted. He couldn't be prouder

His eyes widen as you topple him onto his bed, yet he wasnt surprised when his arms automatically wrapped around your figure to keep you on top of him, his large hands dragging you up to chest as you lay your head down near his shoulder, his fingers finding a strand of hair to play with while you sigh with content

He missed this

“Thank you, Haji.”

“For?”

“Waiting for me.”

“Of course. I’ll always be there.”

This. mf.

So fucking rude istg AND FOR WHAT

You excitingly told him ab your grades going up, yet he brushes it off

“Just now? Those assignments were easy,” he states

You were kinda pissed. Who was he to treat you like that? After you worked so hard?

But you were also kinda sad. Your boyfriend didn’t recognize how many hours you wasted doing work instead of texting him, how many sleepless nights you had simply doing late math work. He dismissed you like it was nothing

So, you turn around, not saying a word as you walk away

“Hey- wait,” he sighs, his fingers going to push his glasses back. “Good job. I guess.”

Your heels spin you around as your eyebrows perk up in confusion. You couldnt help the smile that painted your face, tho

“Wait, really?” you say with excitement

“Yeah, whatever, just,” he sighs again, turning around without warning before he says, “come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“What’s your favorite candy?”

“Baby! Guess what!”

“What, Kou?”

“I got my grades up!”

Yeahp. Him too. Honestly, this made you feel better, because you two had studied together (a tragic thing, really. You two barely processed a word that the textbooks emitted into your brains. Or maybe they didn't emit at all…)

“So did I!”

“Wait, actually?!”

“Yeah!”

You guys are yelling in keysmashes, piling on each other as you laugh and congratulate each other for your hard work

“I’m so proud of you, Baby!!!” He peppers kisses all over your face and body as you two lay on the floor together

“You too, Darling! Our hard work paid off, huh?”

“Sure did! Now I can be the best volleyball player and the best student,” he shouts with pride

Your loud giggles was your only reply, as your head turns and nuzzles into his side while his hands fixate on your back and your waist, his lips pressing soft butterfly kisses to teh crown of your head

heaven

update💀my grades went back down while i was writing this- hm- gonna go study after this ig

general taglist (send an ask!): @combat-wombatus @toosharkinternet @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @hitosushi @alpha3113 @solar3lunar @zerohawks @katsuhera @awmahleebkg @thisnoodlewritesao3 @realcube @f0leysgurl @elektrosonix @beenoia

haikyuu taglist (send an ask!): @pies-writes-and-more @luvrboykento

REQUESTS: OPEN <3

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 20 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader lies to Spencer.

A/N: Please read the content warnings for this one if you have basically any triggers, lol. This is a very heavy chapter - it is the penultimate climax of the story. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (NSFW) Content Warning: 🚨 IMPORTANT – READ BEFORE READING🚨 This episode covers a number of very dark topics, and should be approached at a time when you have support systems available. Potential triggering topics include: sexual assault, violations of consent, suicide, self-harm, pregnancy/termination, infertility, domestic dispute, fighting, and underage drinking, sex w/ blanket consent Word Count: 11K

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

Rossi’s house was every bit as extravagant as I had expected. I had come in honestly hoping to be slightly disappointed so I could mock him for it, but, as always, he had to force his appearance to be as unnecessarily elegant as possible.

That being said, I was a little surprised to find that most everyone gathered in one spot - the kitchen. It was only to be expected, considering it was usually the happiest room in the home. That certainly remained true for Rossi. But they were also all gathered there because that was where the wine was – wine that I was not allowed to drink.

Rossi didn’t have a problem with it… Spencer did. Because of course he did. And while I politely declined when Rossi offered me some, anyway, I found another offer a little more tempting. Which explains why I found myself clutching Derek’s flask and draining half the contents quickly enough to remind him that I was, in fact, in college.

And if anyone were to ask, I would simply tell them that we were hanging out in the hall outside the bathroom to have a very deep and secret heart-to-heart about our shared love for a certain mop headed genius. It would have been the perfect cover to use on pretty much everyone except…

“Ahem.”

The sound of Spencer’s throat clearing behind me was enough to cause me to choke, and I quickly tossed the closed flask back to an already giggling Derek as I shouted, “Fuck!” I didn’t even turn around when his hand snaked around my hip. Instead, I just groaned.

“The narc’s here,” I whispered to Derek, but he knew better than to answer.

“The narc?” Spencer balked, much to his friend’s delight.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Derek offered in consolation, taking a swig out of the flask and earning a very defensive glare from my boyfriend. In fact, Spencer seemed downright pissed, which wasn’t what I had been expecting when I agreed.

Oops. What’s the male equivalent of a cat fight?

“Morgan, didn’t you lecture me about her drinking underage a few months ago?” he snapped, grabbing the flask from a more than willing Derek. Spencer sniffed the contents and immediately recoiled, tossing it back again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, shooting a glance down to see me sort of just making heart eyes at the sight of my boyfriend being a stupid level of jealous that I'd been caught in the hallway with another boy.

“How does that make it better? That makes it patently worse,” he argued. Derek might have responded to it, too, if I hadn’t latched myself onto Spencer’s side.

“You’re so cute when you get all stupid and possessive,” I drawled, burying my face in his shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a playful kiss, but actually just ended up being a muffled laugh.

“That,” Derek chuckled, pointing to me teetering back and forth on my heels at Spencer’s side, “That is my cue to leave.” With one final wink, he whispered, “Don’t be too hard on him, Princess.”

Spencer’s angry sigh and entirely stiff posture should have served as my warning, but it was just funny to me at the time.

“They all think I’m the boss of us,” I giggled. “Me! The boss!”

“You’re drunk.” His tone dropped the second Derek was out of earshot, and on intimidation alone, he managed to back me against the wall.

“So is everyone but you. They won’t even notice,” I mumbled, although the more the hallway started to spin, the less I believed that. I'd never been very good at math or shots, and this was a pretty horrible miscalculation of just how much of my tolerance I’d lost.

“You really couldn’t wait a few more months? Or at least until we got home?”

He was chastising me, and I just wasn’t there to hear it. I probably could have figured it out if I’d tried, but it all sounded like sexy nonsense at the time. Walking my fingers down his chest, I paused at his belly before hooking them in his pants and pulling his hips against mine.

“I’m allowed to drink if my daddy says so,” I purred.

Spencer didn’t find my taunt as charming as I’d hoped, and before I knew it his hand was roughly pressed over my jaw. He tilted my head back to look him in the eyes, and I wondered if he could smell the whiskey on my breath.

“Well, I didn’t,” he growled.

I never said I was a perfect person, or even a smart one. And when I was drinking and Spencer whipped out his Daddy voice, I don’t know what he really expected me to do. But apparently, trying to grab his dick through his pants was the wrong move. He snatched my hand away quickly, slamming it against the wall before he continued his little impromptu lecture.

“I’m not rewarding you for this. We’re going home.”

“That’s not a very scary threat,” I deadpanned, throwing my body weight back against the wall.

That lasted about four seconds before he pulled me back to my feet and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wait, little girl. Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on you.”

I was going to make a snarky joke, to remind him that his hands were surely and firmly already on me, but I never got the chance. We were both too distracted by the very loud and very high pitched squeal of Penelope as she rounded the corner.

“Ah! I saw nothing!” she shouted, covering her face with her hands and refusing to remove them.

“Yeah, because we aren’t doing anything,” I laughed. But then, being the slightly cruel brat that I was, I stuck my tongue out at Spencer before tacking on a completely unnecessary, “anymore.”

“We weren’t doing anything before either!” he squeaked back. He wasn’t using his Daddy voice anymore. So swiftly, so easily, he’d been knocked from his higher footing.

Penelope took the words to heart, but only enough to slowly lower her fingers and peek between them. With a shaky voice and an awkward laugh, she started to rant. “Oh. It’s fine. I’m cool. We’re all cool. We don’t have to talk about that thing from the first time I met you ever again. Because we said we’d never talk about it again, do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” I answered with a very sarcastic tone and a nod.

“And I just brought it up again, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. Spencer, Hotch is looking for you,” she rushed, turning to the beet-red boy at my side. “Okay, that’s it. Take your time, because I’m cool and not at all mortified.” She was basically already gone before she'd even finished talking, taking off in the direction she'd come from while downing the drink in her hand.

With a loose, clumsy wave I shouted back, “Bye, Penelope.”

“Mortified is a good word. An accurate word,” Spencer huffed as he wiped a hand over his face. His bashfulness, while cute, was not as exciting as the pre-Penelope behavior.  

Running my hands underneath his blazer and up his back, I pressed my chest against his. “Gosh, Dr. Reid. You need to be more appropriate in such a public setting.”

The words, while meant to get him riled up, did more to frustrate me. My drunken mind was more than happy to revert to the metro, and before I knew it, my daydreams were filled with images of Spencer stuffing me into the tiniest closet he could find and having his way with me.

“Oh, I’m the one lacking manners?” Spencer chuckled as he apparently read my very lewd thoughts. He pried my arms off of him and pulled them back to rest at my sides before pressing a strangely chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go get your stuff. I’m going to go talk to Hotch and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Before he disappeared around the corner, he shot me one last warning glance and ordered, “Do not mingle!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” I yelled back.

Once he was gone, it was my job to figure out how to make my body work again. Luckily, it wasn’t the first time I’d had too much to drink in a room filled with drunk adults. Granted, they usually weren’t all cops, but, whatever.

Turns out, it somehow made it easier. I managed to grab my things off the counter without alerting anyone except Penelope, who quickly turned back around with a blush. She probably figured I was gonna go blow him in the bathroom or something. I’d have been offended if the thought hadn’t literally just crossed my mind. I made it all the way to the door before I heard it. Back through the halls, a few of the group had separated to talk about how much harder it had been to see Hotch and JJ. It was nothing, just a little bug spreading through daycares like wildfire. That wasn’t what upset me, though.

No, the thoughts running through my head were more than just a passing thought of kids sick with a cold. I looked up at the walls of the entryway to Rossi’s home and saw intricate moulding and nothingness. I saw the exquisite, pristine rug underneath my feet, and I thought about how lonely it felt.

I was standing in a house that should have felt happy, filled with friends and family and love. There was no doubt that everyone who was there wanted to be there, and probably had nowhere else they’d rather be. But the tall ceilings and thousands of square feet felt so goddamn empty.

It isn’t the building, I heard a tiny, terrified voice call out from inside my own conscience.

It’s you. You’re empty.

I had to leave. I had to get out of the house. I had to hear the silence so that the nothingness would feel more appropriate and less noticeable. I couldn’t let them see me, because if they saw me, they would know. They would know that I was nothing but a husk of the girl they used to know. Without even thinking, I threw the door open, stumbling forward and almost falling flat on my face as I misjudged the small step down to the patio.

“Fuck!” I muttered, the world rocking around me with a stubborn persistence. If it weren’t for the frankly freezing temperature, I was sure I would have been sick. To make matters worse, there was a person quickly approaching.  

“Hey, are you and Spence leaving already?”

It was JJ. Thank god, it was JJ. Probably the only person who wouldn’t make fun of me for being a mess on Rossi’s steps after only a few shots of whatever Morgan was drinking.

“Oh. Hey, JJ. Yeah. He’s…” I turned to my side, half expecting Spencer to be there to answer for me. But he wasn’t, so I ended up just pointing to the closed door before slurring, “he’s doing a thing.”

She was, per usual, very kind when faced with my buffoonery, and just laughed as she shook her head. “A thing. Sounds like him.”

I honestly thought that would be the end of it. It was a good, easy segue into a farewell. She already knew we were leaving, and she knew Spencer well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave me alone for long.

And I think she almost did leave. She almost walked right past me and into the warmth and comfort of a home filled with family and friends. But she didn’t. She stopped and asked me the one question I was really hoping she wouldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t want her to ask because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Even if I could have managed it, she would have seen right through me in a second. Not only would it have been an exercise in futility, but she would also know that I thought it was worth it to try to lie.

So, I was honest… quite possibly too honest.

“No, not really. But it’s a lot and I’m kind of drunk, so…”

The mom eyes appeared so quickly, with JJ’s body turning entirely away from the door and over to me. “Not usually a good combination, but an understandable one,” she softly replied, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the fact that she was sacrificing her comfort in many different ways to talk to me, instead.  

She was probably just being nice— staying with me until Spencer could come take over the babysitting of the drunk twenty year old, but I wasn’t exactly thinking critically at the time. Which is only part of the reason why I blurted out the only thing on my mind; the thing that had been haunting me for longer than I wanted to admit even to myself, much less another person.

“Has Spencer ever talked to you about kids?”

The air, still freezing, also fell uncomfortably silent.

“Oh…” she mumbled under her breath, clearly unsure of how to handle that particular minefield of a topic. Especially with her best friend’s girlfriend, who also happened to be drunk. I almost told her to forget about it, but then she looked up at me with a powerful resolve. “Yeah, he has. Why?”

I thought about my next words more carefully, although you wouldn’t have been able to tell considering how much I stuttered.

“Do you think… Do you think he’d be happy if… I can’t have them?” I asked, wringing my hands together over my stomach. “Like, not just happy today, but like ten years from now?” I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I needed someone to hear the words playing on loop in my mind. Absolutely frantic and with tears pooling in my eyes, I asked, “Do you think he’d still love me if I can’t give him kids?”

“(Y/n), slow down. It’s okay!” JJ urged, lunging forward to cup my cheeks and gently wipe away any stray tears. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your make up and it looks like you spent a lot of time on it.”

I had to laugh because not only was it my exact brand of humor, she said it with such a serious face that I had to wonder if it was genuinely her biggest concern. Of course, I knew it wasn’t. In her usual JJ way, she just knew the easiest way to cheer me up was with a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s like $80 on my face, it’s really not worth it to cry,” I agreed, sniffling softly when she finally pulled away her hands. At least I could blame that part on the cold.

“Exactly. And if you cry, then I’ll cry, and then I’ll also ruin my make up, and we’ll just be $150 down the drain with nothing to show for it,” she joked with a tired roll of her eyes and a shrug.  

Together, we laughed, finding a pocket of warmth in a world that often felt too cold. Behind JJ’s eyes though, I saw an empathy I wasn’t expecting. That small, instinctual part of my brain tugged at my heart, telling me that there was an unspoken bond forming. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know why. I had a feeling that it was one of those secrets you just didn’t ask about, so I let it go.

“Thanks. It’s a stupid thought anyway,” I sighed, shuffling my feet and knocking my heels against the somehow spotless patio. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, so why stress about it, right?”

But then JJ said something I wasn’t expecting. Something that I actually really, really needed to hear.  

“I don’t know, I think you’re allowed to be worried. It’s normal to feel scared.”

The sentence hit me like a freight train carrying lead and cement. At first, my brain refused to comprehend it at all. I struggled to repeat the idea, not because I was drunk but because it sounded so wrong. I had wanted it to be true so badly, and here she was, telling me it was okay.

Sensing my simultaneous trepidation and revelation, JJ cringed a bit when she said, “But I think it is a good idea to talk to Spence about it instead of me. Because, to be honest, I’ve also had one too many glasses to be helpful.”

That time when I laughed, it was full-hearted and involved every muscle in my body. “God, I love you, Jennifer,” I said through the noise.

She just shook her head, clearly enjoying the drastic mood swing she’d had a great part in. “I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand over my shoulder and arm to pull me into a small half-hug. And that was how Spencer found us, giggling and sniffling on Rossi’s porch.

“Hey, are you ready to— Oh! Hey JJ,” he stopped, taking a very hesitant step forward in the hope that we wouldn’t both start crying on the spot. Drunk girls had a tendency to do that. “W-What are you guys doing out here?”

She let me go first, shoving her hand, still damp with my tears, into her pockets with a secretive smile. “Girl talk.”

“That usually doesn’t bode well for me,” Spencer answered with an awkward, nervous laugh. He didn’t make a move to grab me yet, probably too scared to step between the two of us. I was too busy giggling at the thought of his mind cycling through all the possible secrets I might have spilled in my uninhibited state.

I was tipsy, but I wasn’t that drunk.

JJ pulled two fingers over her mouth in a cheeky motion as she whispered, “My lips are sealed.”

“An even worse sign,” Spencer winced, turning to finally wrap his arm around me. He must have noticed the chill on my skin, because seconds later he had me practically wrapped in his coat. “I should just cut my losses and get her out of here, huh?”

“Shut up, old man,” I slurred, cuddling closer to his body heat despite my protests. Even in the darkness, I watched the heat bloom in his face at the nickname. By far, the worst part about the situation was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him, because I just knew he would be so warm, and I was really starting to get cold. I suspect that’s why he started to whisk me away, unceremoniously shushing me as JJ cleared her throat and raised her hand in a wave.  

Before we got too far, though, I heard her speak again. “Oh! (Y/n), your questions!”

“What about them?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder and nearly falling to the ground as a result.

JJ looked at me, and then back to Spencer, whose arm was wrapped possessively around me. She smiled a pure, toothy grin that filled her face, causing that weird feeling in my gut to flare up again. She saw something in that moment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really understand, but her voice started to crack just enough to notice when she called out, “The answer is yes. To all of them.”

 —————————————————

 The ride back to Spencer’s place was uneventful, though I tried very hard to make it interesting. After the fourth time he'd swatted away my hand and threatened to throw me in the back, I gave in to his demand to behave. I blamed my compliance on the alcohol, although it was probably more so a result of total exhaustion.

The respite from socialization was apparently what I needed to be able to function again, because as soon as we pulled into his apartment parking lot, I was awake.

... Awake enough to try and maul him in the hallway. But, in his sober stubbornness, he continued to evade my advances all the way until his front door clicked shut behind us. His hands on my hips had never felt like such a victory before.

“Did you enjoy wreaking havoc all night?” he whispered, slowly leading us towards his room. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to. Even without an eidetic memory, my body cherished this path and the memories it always led to. I trusted him to catch me if I stumbled. Which, I definitely did.

“I’m the cutest devil you’ll ever see,” I slurred.

“At least you admit it,” Spencer laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or the fact that I was failing terribly at trying to unbutton his shirt. My drunk self was not a skilled multitasker.

Once I felt the bed against the back of my thighs, I hopped on top of the covers before he could even try to help me up. It was muscle memory. We’d been there before.

“I’m feeling more fallen angel tonight,” I sighed, sliding against the comforter until I found his pillow.

Naturally, Spencer saw the way I gravitated to his side. He smiled as he removed his shirt that I’d left mostly intact. “By all means, feel free to stay that way.”

I probably should have taken off my dress, or my shoes, but I didn’t. The world sort of felt like a wave pool on a sunny day, and I was worried that if I paid too much attention to what was going on around me, I'd think about something I really didn’t want to think about.

I couldn’t remember what it was.

But then Spencer’s hands were gliding up and down my calves, and I shuddered at the contact. He took his time removing my shoes before coming up to join me on all fours. I wondered if he could taste the whiskey on my tongue when he kissed me. Did it remind him of the circumstances that had brought us together? Did it remind him of his hangover and sins?

Did he think of monsters when he kissed me?

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly to try to keep him there. And when he pulled away, I tried to fight him. I tried to follow him, scared that once the kiss was over, I’d start remembering things I probably should have tried to forget.

He must have seen the denial in my eyes, because he hesitated. His hand came up to lightly grab my wrist and lead my hand that had a death grip on his hair down to his face. “Are you too drunk? Should we stop?”

Throwing my head back with a groan, I tried not to hate him for actually caring about me again. “If you stop right now, I’m going to actually scream,” I droned. It got me a laugh, at least.

“That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.”

Once I opened my eyes, I found myself wishing I hadn’t. It wasn’t that I saw hesitancy or fear in Spencer’s eyes – on the contrary, it was the lack of anything bad at all that bothered me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a sincere, pure adoration that I couldn’t argue with.

I chose to ignore it, instead. I couldn’t remember why it made my stomach hurt.

“Are you going to make me do a sobriety test?” I giggled, letting my hands travel down his shoulders and chest. I wasn’t in as much of a rush as I had been earlier. I wanted to take my time remembering what it felt like to be pinned under him and surrounded by his embrace.

“I’m positive that you’ve practiced those while drunk,” he playfully replied while trying to hide the way goosebumps followed my fingers as they trailed down to more interesting territory.  

“Yeah, I can say the alphabet backwards and everything.”

It was meant as a joke, but Spencer apparently had some doubts. With a scrunched up smile, he laughed back as he asked, “Really?”

The fact that he believed I was capable of something like that might have been flattering if it hadn't been based on his incredibly flawed perception of my propensity to lawbreaking. But since it was based on ideas of immorality rather than intelligence, it just made me mad.

Smacking him lightly on the chest, I both pouted and laughed as I snapped back, “No, of course not, asshole!”

Spencer just grinned, giving a delayed wince at the offensive contact before he sat up again. I didn’t realize why at first, but as he slowly started to coax me into turning around, I remembered that I was, in fact, still fully dressed. I figured it was either his way of saying that I’d won, or just an excuse to take off the dress so I might actually go to sleep. I was fine with either.

“I was drunk the first night we met, if you’ve forgotten,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side of the bed and moving my hair so that he wouldn’t catch any in the zipper.

“I definitely haven’t forgotten that night.”

The nostalgia in his voice was both comforting and painful. We’d always joked about that night, though. It wasn’t an insult at all.

“No? Do you think about it often?” I replied playfully, forcing myself not to think too hard about whether he wished I was still the girl he'd met that day.

Spencer made it easy to forget, with his hand starting to draw the zipper down while he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I think about it all the time.” My breath hitched in my throat at the way his voice warped into a rough, raspy tone. “You almost made me believe that you were just some shy, innocent little girl.”

This time when he got me to turn back over, there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were clearly craving the kind of violence they got to use last time. I wanted to feel them again.

“We can make a new memory if you want,” I panted, looking up at him with wanton eyes and my dress loose enough to expose parts of my breasts to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight below him. He pressed his erection against my hip as he ran a hand over my cheek. “Tell me the rules.”

“I tell you to stop if I need to,” I carefully enunciated.

“Good girl,” he moaned, starting to rock against me. Struggling to pull my dress off himself, he pleaded in a slightly pitiful manner, “Can I…?”

I helped him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. I didn’t even think about what it meant for my dress to be gone. It wasn’t until Spencer’s mouth dropped to my chest so enthusiastically that I realized that he’d failed to stop and kiss my lips first.

With both hands on my breasts, he lavished each pebbled peak with his fingers and tongue. He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he’d missed me shirtless, but it was painfully obvious in the way his lips trailed along my body. It was obvious in the rumbling of his moans against my skin and the way his hands roughly kneaded the soft tissue.

I was forced to remember why I hadn’t let him see me topless.

I felt naked. Not because of the exposed skin, but because I couldn’t warp reality with lace or cotton anymore. My marred stomach might not have made a physical barrier, but it still made him feel so far away. It was a paralyzing kind of realization, and I felt myself retreat so quickly that it hurt.

Thankfully, it was Spencer who was kissing me. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have just laid there, terrified and small and alone. But I couldn’t do that with him.

“Spencer?” I quietly called, and he immediately stopped, his eyes meeting mine with all the attention a girl could ever ask for. I smiled, and the sensation almost felt foreign.

“Come kiss me here instead,” I said with a little giggle, tapping my lips to bring him back to where I wanted him. And he came to me so quickly, his mouth crashing onto mine in seconds and his hands tangling in my hair.

I had forgotten so quickly how easy it was to get lost in him. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind wasn’t able to stick with any thought for longer than a few seconds. Mixing that with Spencer’s hands and mouth, I was never going to be able to think in more than a few words at a time. And I shouldn’t have needed to, right? It was just sex. We’d done it many times before, and it had never been a disappointment. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of mind — some instinctual warning that told me I was doing something wrong.

I wanted him, so what could be wrong about that? There was nothing painful or unappreciated in the way he lined himself up at my entrance, and I certainly made that much clear. It was hard to even hear him over the sound of my own moans, and my nails dug into his shoulder as I guided him into me with my hips.

“I love you,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.

“I love you so much, little girl,” he whispered against my lips, his forehead resting against mine.

For a moment, it was okay. The feeling subsided long enough for me to enjoy the fact that Spencer, the man I loved, loved me back. I thought about how long it had taken us to get to this point, and how I never wanted to lose it again. I held onto him for dear life, rocking my hips to meet his and bringing his mouth down to mine.

It was okay, until he spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into my mouth, “even when you’re being bad you just want to be useful.”

Useful.

The word had come back to haunt me several times in the recent weeks. I hadn’t said anything about it because I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. There was no reason for me to be upset. He was just saying what I usually liked to hear.

So why did it hurt?

And I realized then, that the reason that experience felt so horrible wasn’t because of me at all. It was because it was Spencer. It was Spencer, the man I loved. There he was, trying to love me and comfort me and hold me and I…

In a rush of emotions and memories and repressed regrets, I was forced to face the fact that I had made a terrible mistake. The kind of mistake that if I didn’t do something about it in that exact, immediate moment, would become a disaster. The kind of disaster that meant he might never want to touch me again. The kind that would make him hate me. The kind that would make him leave and I couldn’t blame him for.

I had made a mistake.

“Wait, wait, Spencer, stop!” I slurred, my hands that had been holding him close seconds earlier shoving him off of me with the little force I was capable of. It didn’t take much, though, considering how fast he jumped back.

Frantic and terrified, he grabbed my face and tried to inspect my eyes that were avoiding him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look at him. “No, I just really need to stop,” I muttered, my breath picking up even more as I slid away from him, “Can I just— Can you just give me a minute?”

My hands slid over my chest, trying to hide the shame I felt inside to no avail. Spencer only made it worse in the way he quickly grabbed clothing, covering me in his shirt before he dressed himself. He even took the time to find me pants and help me in them, quietly and carefully. Like a doll.

I was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he croaked brokenly while he curled up at my side, trying to wrap his arms around me before he realized I was shrinking away from his touch. He was so confused. He had no reason to know what was going on, but I could see on his face that he was desperately trying to figure it out.

“Does this have something to do with what you were talking to JJ about?”

An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. No? Maybe. I guess?” I ran a hand over my face that landed on my throbbing temple. The lack of tears on my face almost surprised me. I probably should have been crying, but I wasn’t. In a way, it felt like I had no tears left to give. When I turned to him, bile rose in my throat and I was afraid that I might choke on it if I didn’t get the words out faster. I just had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Listen, I lied to you. And I need to say something.”

I had just gotten my breathing under control, just in time for his to go erratic. His pulse was visible in his throat as he swallowed. “Lied to me? About what?”

“I…” The world was rocking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or my brain trying to comprehend my own self-destructive stupidity. I knew which one I was going to blame, though. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was this drunk.”

“What did you lie to me about?” he repeated, his hands gripping handfuls of the sheet in hopes of stopping the rest of his body from trembling.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”

It was the most useless clarification, and it did absolutely nothing to appease his concern. The longer the words stayed stuck and muddled in my mouth, the more devastated he seemed. In hindsight, I would realize all the millions of awful reasons his mind must have been feeding him in the absence of the truth.

“Please, whatever it is, just tell me,” Spencer begged with a hesitant, shaky hand coming to rest on top of mine. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, we both looked down at our hands. It was a mercy and a disservice. I just had to tell him, but I couldn’t convince myself to do it without looking him in the eyes. That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful that he didn’t look back, though. Because once the words were said, there would be no going back from them.

He was going to hate me.

“I… stopped taking my birth control,” I whispered in a voice that felt so foreign. “Like, a while ago.”

Spencer’s jaw steeled, his eyes widening and shooting up to me with the same speed he used to jump off the bed. Despite my efforts to grab him, to stop him from leaving me, he was five feet away in a matter of seconds.

“What?!” he shouted. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him. Even the echoes felt deafening, and my hands covered my ears with a wince.

“Shit! That was loud!” I whined in a pathetic attempt to make him feel bad for me. I didn’t deserve it, but I think it worked. Because the next time he spoke, it was at a more manageable volume.

“What do you mean you stopped taking your birth control?! When?!”

“Stop yelling at me.” I pulled my knees to my chest and ignored the pain in my stomach when I did so. It felt well deserved.

“You aren’t joking, either. Why didn’t you tell me this?” Spencer continued, his hands raking through his hair while he started to pace the room.

Nothing about it felt real. I felt like I was stuck in one of my million recurring nightmares. I just wanted to wake up, to be somewhere other than in a room too small for the bass in his voice. I only barely saw him when he finally approached me. He still stayed a few feet away, but he met my eyes that stared vacantly at the wall ahead of me.  

“Answer me!”

Whether it was the order that broke me or the pain in his voice, all of my resolve and apathy shattered at once.

“You’ve always said you wanted to get me pregnant!” I screamed back, digging my nails into my skin in the hope of finding feeling there.

“Not like this! Not right now!” he scoffed. The sound would have hurt more if he hadn't stepped closer to me when he made it.

“Why not?!” I tried to sound angry, but all I heard was the plea beneath the words.

I just want to be useful. Please let me be useful.

“Are you serious?” Spencer’s disbelief was present in every ounce of his existence. His hands were alternating between fists and flat palms, his voice cracking and wavering in pitch. “What has gotten into you? You know that you can’t have a child right now.”

I bit down on my tongue in one final attempt to keep the scary words inside. But he couldn’t feel the way his words felt just like bullets and scar tissue that would never fully heal again.

“You almost died! Do you—“ he choked, but powered through his body’s attempt to stop the thought. “Do you understand the danger that would put you in?”

“I know, alright?! I know!” The words were loud and hoarse, and I covered my own ears to hopefully drown out the sound of failure on my own tongue. “I know I can’t have a fucking kid right now!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

I don’t know. Please, help me.

He waited for my answer, but it stayed trapped in my head. When I started to rock in place, my hands still clamped over my ears and the tears I swore I didn’t have starting to fall, he sighed.  

“Get up, we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” I spat, sinking further into my spot in a purely selfish manner.

“Get up,” he said again, this time reaching out for my hand.

But I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want him to touch me like this. I was scared that if I did what he wanted, then the fight would be over. And if the fight ended, then what would be left? Was this all just some elaborate ruse to get me in his car so that he could drive me home and leave me there?

His hand touched mine so softly, with so much patience and love that it burned. Why wasn’t he angrier? He should be.

“No!” I screamed, smacking his hand away from me. Although I knew it didn’t hurt, I saw him wince at the contact. His lips flattened as he looked at the stupid sobbing girl on his bed.  

Then he left. He turned on his heel, and with less patience that time, grumbled the explanation he'd refused to give before. “We’re going to the store and getting levonorgestrel so that you don’t make the stupidest mistake of your life.”

It wasn’t the words that got me to move, but the fact that he was quickly leaving the room. I scrambled after him recklessly, crashing into just about every stationary object in the way. The shock had hit me so hard that I forgot I was still drunk.

“Is it really that awful to imagine having a future with me?” I sobbed, chasing after him just to crash into him when he stopped.

He still caught me, but I couldn’t tell you why.

“You know that’s not what this is about.” He sounded so tired, but he kept going. He kept fighting with me even though I could see in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I love you, (y/n)! But you’re acting like… like a child!”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, pushing myself away from him.

I was scared that if I didn’t force our bodies apart, I would have fallen to pieces in his arms again. And I knew he would try to put me back together again. He would try to help me because that’s what he always did. But sometimes things are just completely, irrevocably broken. Sometimes there was simply no fixing it.

Good luck convincing Spencer of that.

“I don’t need this shit and I don’t need to go to the store,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way back into the bedroom to locate my purse that I’d so gracefully thrown on the floor.

“(Y/n), just because the chances of pregnancy are low doesn’t mean they are nonexistent, and I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life away! You said yourself you aren’t ready to be a housewife!” I heard him rambling from the other room. Eventually, he followed the sounds of plastic packaging and rustling paper.

“Shut up,” I groaned, finally getting the tiny pill free and successfully shoving it in my mouth before I managed to drop it. “Just leave me alone, Spencer.”

Obviously, it wasn’t going to work. After all, I was in his apartment, and currently sitting cross legged in the middle of his bedroom and trying to dry swallow a pill that tasted a lot like every mistake I’d ever made.

“When did you buy that? And why do you have it with you?” He didn’t sound angry at all anymore. He didn’t even particularly sound annoyed or confused, just… exhausted.

“You’re welcome for saving you the drive.”

Of all the things he could have done, he chose the one I expected the least. He came to me, and carefully lowered himself to the ground in front of me. At first, that was all he did. He just sat across from me with puppy dog eyes and an awkward posture.

“Look at me,” he called gently.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, waiting another second to catch his breath and let the earlier emotions settle in the air. “You had that in your purse. Why?” he asked as he reached forward to grab the remnants of the torn up box and confirm that it was what he thought it was. Once he was satisfied, he just sounded even more broken. “You’ve clearly thought about it enough to plan ahead, but apparently I wasn’t important enough to have a say in any of these decisions.”

The pain that was forming in my stomach hurt worse than the AR-15.

“Were you just… Just planning on making those decisions without even telling me?” He was on the verge of tears, though he tried his very best to hide it.  It might’ve worked if I'd been both drunk and an idiot, but unfortunately the adrenaline was combatting the alcohol pretty well at that point.

With both hands covering his face, I could still see the way his jaw tensed between the words. “It would be my child, too,” he forced out, “You don’t— You don’t get to make those decisions without me. T-That’s not fair.”

The sounds were so pitiful, and I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to feel angry or sad again, but I couldn’t. All I felt was hate; the most powerful, soul crushing self-loathing imaginable.

I didn’t want to be the reason he cried. I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t control myself. I just kept rubbing salt in the wound so he would leave. So that I could hate him for leaving me instead of hating myself for making him.

“There’s no kid. I would’ve taken it either way.”

That succeeded in getting a response.

“Then what was the point of any of this?!” he fumed, dropping his hands to gestured to the state of us, dressed in pajamas and tears. “If you really believe that, then why tell me? Why risk it at all?!”

“I don’t know.”

“I deserve a better answer than that. That’s bullshit and you know it,” he demanded with an accusing finger.

But I didn’t know that it was bullshit. Really, it was the truth. I didn’t know why I was doing this. All I knew was that if I stopped, if I was just honest with him, I would have to face a reality I wasn’t ready for.

“I deserve the truth,” he said as his hand fell, unable to stay up under the weight of the feeling behind it.

I looked at him and I saw my mistakes in the form of tears trickling down his cheeks and a tremble in his lips. I saw a man who deserved nothing but the greatest love, begging me to give him something to work with. He wasn’t asking me for the world — he just wanted me to talk. To say something so that he could understand why I wanted him to hate me.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one that either of us would believe, anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer.” My lips moved without my permission, and my legs quickly followed the traitorous pursuit.

“What does that mean?” he begged me as he followed me. He followed me like he always did, with that suffocating hopefulness that we could make it.

But what if I couldn’t? What if this was it for me? What if, in my desperate desire to push him away, I was saving him from a miserable life with me?

I was trying to save him.

“It means…” I paused, turning to look him in the eyes so that he might finally hear what he needed to in my answer. “It means you should’ve picked a different 20 year old to fuck.”

His jaw finally relaxed, dropping open with a broken breath.

And I think he saw it. I think he saw the way I meant the words from the bottom of my soul. He heard me tell him that he should regret me while I tried to walk away, and he knew that I meant it.

“I’m leaving.” The words surprised me when I heard them in my own voice, but I followed them, nonetheless. I barreled towards the door with bare feet and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave like this.” His statements were logical, but that only served to further piss me off.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your property!”

That wasn’t why I was angry. We both knew that wasn’t why. The real reason, the truth behind the reckless self-destruction was approaching too fast and I couldn’t slow it down. Nothing could stop it from rushing down the predetermined path that we stood on, and I was begging him to get off the tracks.  

“If you leave right now, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!”

And then it happened. Practically foaming at the mouth with the unhinged rage that had been boiling underneath my skin for too long, I finally managed to let the words go.

“Maybe that’s the fucking point!”

Silence had never been so loud. It had never been that heavy.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that, Spencer?” I laughed because there was no reason in my mind not to. It all seemed so terribly obvious and we’d been skirting around it for so long. Why were we pretending like this was news? Like we hadn’t heard the horns and seen the headlights approaching?

“Please stop.” It was said like a plea but meant as an order. But I never listened to directions and he already knew that.

“I’m not your problem just because you were unfortunate enough to fall in love with me,” I continued, finding a freedom in being able to finally say what I’d been thinking all along. “Put me out of my fucking misery, Spencer. Just let me go.”

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling fistfuls of his hair as his chest heaved with deep, rasping breaths. I’d heard that voice from him before, but only once. The memories were locked away in the part of my brain that I swore to leave locked up.

I was back in the bank. I could feel his hands slipping in blood on my stomach and pressing into my cheeks. I was in the ambulance again. His hands were so warm that they burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to leave. I'd had one foot in the grave then. I felt like I was still there, teetering over the edge with nothing but Spencer’s frantic breathing and desperate begging keeping me from jumping in.

“Stop saying that!” Spencer ordered, his hands letting go just enough to come back down on his head with some force. I jumped at the contact and wondered when I'd started feeling his pain, too.  I wondered when we'd found ourselves back in his apartment again.

“Y-You aren’t going to die!” He continued. It didn’t have the force of an order or the pathetic breaking of a cry. It was just a statement he was trying to will into existence. An attempt to ward off memories that reminded him he was capable of losing me. He had already almost lost me once. In a way, it was this same scenario.

It was just that he wasn’t losing me quickly from a gunshot wound. No, I was bleeding out in an entirely different way.

“You can’t— I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and not caring at all about the bruises that would follow. The sight of him collapsing in on himself was terrifying, and I realized for the first time the true consequences of my actions. I couldn’t pretend that I was trying to save him anymore. I couldn’t listen to the congested, barely comprehensible ramblings of a man begging me not to want to die and act like I was thinking of him at all.

I was being selfish. How very much like me.

“Please, anything but that. You can hate me forever, but please don’t…” The words trailed off, and I felt compelled to answer them. I needed something to release the knot in my chest and allow my lungs to fill again.

“I don’t hate you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” The words were infuriating in their honesty, but he needed to hear them. He needed to know that none of this was his fault, that he’d done nothing wrong other than meet me.

I couldn’t leave him like that. He deserved so much better than me, but that was all that I had. So, I climbed down next to him, reaching out to him and hoping that he would hold me back.

To my surprise, he did. His hands grabbed mine like they were a lifeline, bringing them to his lips wet with tears. And although he was silent, I could hear the way he prayed that they wouldn’t fade away from him again.

“I-I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. I’m supposed to be the adult here, I’m supposed to know how to fix these things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, (y/n).”

It was an admission Spencer didn’t often make. The complete helplessness and inability to fix the puzzle before him didn’t just hurt because it was painful to watch, it was also just another reminder of his limits.

One time he had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. I should have told him that it was a stupid promise to make then. I should have showed him the skeletons in my closet and the mess in my hands.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He had already seen it, and it was too late. I’d made too many mistakes, and I had to face them. I couldn’t run away anymore. That meant listening to Spencer, pouring his heart out to me and clutching my hands like they would turn to nothing in front of him.

“You’re falling apart and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to make this stop hurting. I don’t know how to help you. Sometimes you’re so happy but other times I can see it in your eyes…”

Our eyes met, unguarded, for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually probably only a few minutes. We looked into each other’s eyes and tried to read each other’s minds. I didn’t know what he saw, but I heard the way it struck him.

“Do you… Do you want to leave me?” he asked.

And I realized then, that was what my behavior was leading up to. That was what my mind was racing towards, without ever considering whether it was what was best for me. Because I wasn’t thinking about what was best for me, or what I wanted, or what I should want. All I cared about was the same concern Spencer had for me— I didn’t want him to throw his life away just to be with me.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Spencer heard something in my question that brought life back to his eyes. I wished that I could hear his thoughts because he always seemed so much farther ahead. Like he could see the immediate future and knew what would follow.

Then again, maybe I was just idealizing him. I had a tendency to do that. He wasn’t a superhero. He was just a man, trying his best in a world that never really let him rest. I certainly didn’t help with that.

“No. No, that’s not what I want at all,” he said, his hands finding the courage to let go of mine and slide up my arms. He cupped my face with such an urgency and relief that it almost felt the same as before I had uttered those terrifying words. “I told you I want to marry you and I wasn’t kidding.”

It only took a few words for any progress and vulnerability to be obliterated. Four words. That’s all it took.

I want to marry you.

A white picket fence is what I’d promised him. I'd painted a vivid image of us with two children that were just like him. A normal, domestic life is what I’d said.

I hadn't known. I'd made a mistake. I had lied.

“Stop fucking saying that!” I wished the fight would leave my body and let my weary muscles rest, but it kept coming back. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, I couldn’t let go of the hatred. It had to go somewhere, and Spencer continued to be the stupid, stubborn man putting himself in front of me without any defenses.

I don’t think he was expecting that, though. He jumped back at the sound, his hands bracing his fall as I flailed to get away from him. I didn’t have the energy or coordination to stand, so I just let myself fall to pieces on the floor in front of him.

“Stop telling me about this future you have planned for us b-because I’m a useless, idiotic fuck up, and it’s freaking me the fuck out!”

Naturally, the only thing that could incense Spencer more than violating his trust was, apparently, talking badly about myself. Because as soon as he heard the words, he was wound up just the same.

“What are you so afraid of?!”

Without thinking about the words, implications, or consequences, I gave him the answer he fought for. I gave it to him because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave it to him and hoped that it would grant me the closure he sought, too.

“That I won’t ever be able to give you a baby and you’re going to fucking leave me!”

Spencer, in all his shock and disbelief, could only utter back a single, exasperated, “…What?” The way the word fell out of his mouth almost sounded like a laugh, the side of his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.

“I’m scared that when I stop being useful to you, you’re going to leave me like everyone else,” I explained, my voice as small as I felt in that moment.

But Spencer, in his uncanny ability to predict the future, was trying not to smile. Don’t get me wrong — he wasn’t laughing at me, and the words certainly brought him no joy. But there was something else buried beneath the suffering.

“Come here,” he requested with a sad, small grin and a wave of his hand. When he saw the hesitance on my face, he beckoned me closer again with more feeling. “I want to talk to you. Come here.”

So I came. I came as close to him as I could. And as I practically sat in his lap, I remembered how much easier it was to breathe when he held me, and how much lighter the tears felt when he wiped them a way.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?” he asked through a chuckle, like the very notion was so unbelievable that it couldn’t be uttered as anything other than a joke.

“Y-You want kids,” I mumbled, looking down at our t-shirts wet with tears. I played with the hem of his to remind myself that we were both still there. And although Spencer sympathized, he didn’t seem too keen on me looking away at that particular moment. With a gentle finger under my chin, he guided my eyes back to his.

“Okay. So do you, right?”

“Well, yeah…” I paused and pursed my lips and bit down on the bottom one. I waited until he raised his eyebrows in a challenge before I explained. “But what if I can’t have any?”

Spencer’s face scrunched up with his shoulders in a dismissive shrug, “There are other ways to have kids. I’m not worried about that at all.”

Just like that, he’d waved away my fears of inadequacy and failure like they were smoke from an already snuffed out candle. He made it so clear so quickly that biology wasn’t the thing that mattered. That it wasn’t my genetics or physical traits that made him want to share a literal life with me.

Spencer didn’t need me to have his children; he just wanted me to raise some with him.

“Why are you worried about that? Did something happen?” he pressed forward, unsatisfied with the idea that I might still be carrying some heaviness without his assistance.

“The doctor told me that I might not ever be able to have my own kids and I just...”

I should have known better than to doubt the insistence of his greedy hands. They would never let a burden belong solely to me. And I… didn’t want to bear the weight alone anymore, either. The dam was broken, and my heart came rushing out into his waiting arms.

“I’m so tired of it, Spencer. I’m tired of this stupid shit stealing my life away from me. You’ve been taking care of me for months, a-and the way you look at me sometimes-- I can see it on your face. I can feel the way it hurts you just to look at me.”

That hurt flashed in his eyes right then but faded with a swiftness I hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t want me to see it yet. One fight at a time, I heard him think. When this shifted load balanced between us again, we could figure the rest out.

First, we had to settle this. It had to end.

“If I can’t give you children, and I can’t... I can’t make you happy then—“

“Stop,” he demanded, his finger coming up to cover my lips. There was no argument to be made at his protest. With a deathly seriousness veiled with bowed brows and a lip that still trembled, Spencer whispered to me, “You can feel however you want to, but you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

Tears welled in both of our eyes, threatening to fall with the other. But they didn’t, they stayed pooled at our lashes and drowned us in visions of haloed lights and blurry reflections.

“I am so happy with you. No matter what. Every second of every day. Do you understand me?”

The only answer I had the strength to give was my surrender. Collapsing forward into his arms, I buried my face into his shoulder. I reveled in the warmth of his chest and the strength of his hands on my back. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek as the deep, joyful breaths he took in came out as relieved laughter.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He must have heard, or at least felt, my soft groan in response, because he peeled me off of him with a smirk. “What’s wrong now?” he asked in an equally tired whine.

“You only use my name when you’re angry or sad,” I grumbled through a pout. It only felt a little silly, to joke about something so stupid minutes after screaming our hearts at each other. We were just so tired, and the finish line was in sight. We just wanted to cross it together, and preferably with less tears involved.

Spencer didn’t say any of that, but I felt it, nonetheless. It was clear in the way he pushed my hair from my face before running his fingers down my jaw. “I use your name when I’m worried,” he corrected. “And you scared me tonight. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way.”

We were toeing the line back into heavy emotions, and I shook my head to ask him not to take me back there tonight. But I couldn’t blame him at the same time. He’d so gracefully handled all of my fears and rage; he deserved a chance to voice his own. They’d fallen so far behind in the race towards the truth.

“I understand you were scared to tell me, but...” he stopped, trying to find a way to explain it without hurting my feelings. He really was too nice to me.

“I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible,” I finished for him. Once my face hit his shoulder again, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” I said with almost all of the energy I had left. He stroked soothing patterns over my back, and after a moment I realized that we’d started to rock. I wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or mine.

“I appreciate your apology, but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone about this,” he humbly requested, his words muffled in my hair.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”

It was almost a joke. Spencer wasn’t going to let it go, though. “Don’t try to be clever with me, little girl. I need you to talk to someone who knows how to help you,” he playfully scolded.

Through a yawn and a chuckle, I pressed on in my attempt to end the night on a horrible joke. “Isn’t that your whole job?”

“Yeah, I guess it is sometimes, huh?” he agreed halfheartedly. Really, he was only trying to give me a little bit of a win. We both knew his job wasn’t very good at helping people before the fact. It was just another poor attempt at avoiding healing. I had been holding on to that anger so tightly that there wasn’t room for us in the space that was left.

“But I think you also know I can’t be that person for you,” Spencer eloquently said, cradling my head as it started to rock with each motion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, “I promise.”

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but no matter what, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough. The rhythm of his heart evened out over time, settling into the lullaby I needed to finally find some rest. But realistically, we couldn’t sleep there. Spencer was kind enough to practically carry me back into the bed we had shared when this all started, although this time he laid beside me.

From there, he helped tuck me in and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. My eyes were closed, but the smile that spread over my cheeks was enough of a signal that I was still awake.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

My bloodshot eyes opened at his call, and I found love staring back at me. I knew he could see my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to see all of it at once in his eyes, and I didn’t care. Even when he kissed me, neither of us closed them.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” he said as our mouths broke apart. His thumb swept over my cheeks to all the places I knew he was thinking about kissing. There was a very poor attempt to hide his smile at the thought of the future, but I appreciated the effort he put in.

“When you’re ready to try to have kids, I’ll be right there with you,” he said.

It was clear that Spencer really wanted it to be a meaningful sentiment, but I was still a little bitter at his failure to laugh at my previous terrible jokes. So when I saw the opportunity, I took it swiftly and with no regrets.

“I sure hope so, or else I don’t think it’ll work,” I muttered through the side of my mouth before turning onto my back.  

Spencer’s first carefree giggle of the night was my prize, and I couldn’t have loved it any more. “That’s my little girl,” he cooed, curling up against my side and wrapping a possessive arm over my chest.

Just before my eyes fluttered shut, I saw movement below my face. I kept them open long enough to see his pinky presented to me and a knowing look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright as long as we have each other,” Spencer offered.

And despite our bad history with promises, I had no reasons left to doubt that one. 

—————————————————

| Part 21 |

[emmaannaelisabeth]

Jelle Rietveld

here are my headcanons on Kaz’s dad, I hope you like them!!

he’s named Jelle.

it’s a Dutch name, coming originally from the German word for “money” (nice reference huh?)

he grew up on a farm with his ma and da, he had a younger sister but she was a very sick child and died at the age of three

Jelle often thinks about her as he looks out the window

she always breathed on the glass and drew figures in the vapour on the glass

he’s got golden straight hair that gets wavy when it rains

his eyes are brown, “just like the soil”, his da used to say

Jelle always forgets to put on warm clothes when it gets colder in autumn, so his mother yells his name when he leaves in the morning and walks after him, wiring a grey hand knitted scarf around his neck

he’s a smart kid, very kind, likes to tease in a good way

very good at ball games

when he gets the highest score on the math test and plays just a little too great when they kick ball, some other kids beat him up

he passes out, and is left lying in the ditch on a cold October evening

a girl, Flo, from class sees him when she goes home from school, after studying all day

she sighs loudly when she sees it’s him - it’s the boy who always answers the questions before her in class

but she helps him home and Jelle’s ma asks her to eat with them

Jelle and Flo don’t talk for weeks, but they always glare at each other when the other gets the questions right in class before the other

because yes - ACADEMIC RIVALS

one day another boy corners her and touches her even though she says no

Jelle sees and hits the guy (it’s the same one that beat him up earlier)

after that they never leave each other out of sight, they don’t talk but they always keep an eye on the other

Jelle starts studying more to beat her in the upcoming finals in spring

he loves horses, and his da has got two of them, one is Jelle’s

it’s a big brown mare with a white star on her forehead

her name is Lotta

Jelle loves her more than anything and the first thing he does when he gets home from school is always to give her an apple

she’s expecting a foal in may

Lotta gives birth to her foal, but dies

Jelle is a wreck, fails the exams

Flo asks what’s wrong but Jelle just shoves her out of the way and leaves

she follows him and finds him in the stable, in Lottas space, a day old foal lying sleeping in his arms

for the first time in a LONG time, they talk (more than like a few sentences)

Jelle let’s her name the foal

years go by and they spend more and more time together, they’re inseparable

later, Flo leaves for studies, art and sewing

Jelle was also supposed to go study, but his da breaks his leg and Jelle has to take over the farm or they won’t survive the winter

a couple of years pass, Jelle’s friends find love and marries

but his friends seem to forget about him as soon as they fall in love and all Jelle ever gets to attend is a funeral

his mother gets sick and dies when Jelle is 20

his da is heartbroken, and all responsibility for the farm lands on Jelle’s shoulders

Jelle doesn’t have time for girls or boys, or anyone for that matter, he’s working so hard his da finally asks him if he should stop and rest one day

and Jelle snaps, “Da, it’s all on me! Who will do this if I don’t? I can’t rest-“

but his father sighs and stands up from the sofa, hugs his son, Jelle cries

then Flo gets home to Lij again

she goes to visit Jelle and finds him in the field

she cries out his name and they run to greet each other on the field

he hugs her and spins her around, just like they did years ago

this scene would be epic if this was a film

he asks her how it was, what she learned

they fall in love and Jelle proposes under a tree

his da gives him his old black suit with golden wheat embroidered on the cuffs and around the neck

he spends the whole night before the wedding trying to find the right flowers for Flo’s flower crown for the wedding

Jelle’s father cries during the wedding

he dies three weeks after Jelle and Flo have taken over the farm

they name their first son after him

Jelle is SO sure Kaz will be a girl, he always hoped they’d get one

Flo knows it’ll be a boy, and she has already decided he should be named Kaz

Flo dies kn childbirth and Jelle is left alone with two boys

he loses the love of his life

but he cant give up, so he raises the two boys just like she would’ve wished him too

he encourages them to study and learn, buys Jordie all the books he could ever wish for

he’s tired one day in the field and doesn’t pay attention to their horse Blanca and she gets stuck in a rabbit hole

he helps her up but he’s not prepared for the big jump she makes

the shafts of the mower (yes let’s make it a mower and not a plow) hits her leg and she panics, lunges forward

Jelle loses his balance and falls

he would’ve been fine if he hadn’t wired the reins around his hand

instead, Blanca starts galloping in panic and Jelle is dragged behind

his body flies into the mower and the edges cut right through his chest

then the shafts and reins break and Blanca is loose

she runs home

she thinks Jelle will be home

she’s scared and all she wants is Helles safety, maybe a carrot and his soft strokes on her neck

her ears are pointed, she doesn’t understand, because Jelle will be home

he isn’t

Jordie is

he sees her broken harness and runs

he finds his da in the field

he has never seen such a mess of blood and flesh

Jelle makes him promise he’ll always look out for Kaz

then he dies

just like Flo, he comes to this afterlife Lij

he meets Flo and he’s the happiest and most broken he’s ever been

he watches his boys through the window in the Green Room where you can see the world of the living

he cries a lot

Flo is there all the time

when jordie dies, Flo rushes out to greet him as he arrives, but Jelle can’t leave Kaz

he simply stands there, a hand on the glass as Kaz fights for his life in the water

Jelle loves Kaz’s humour

Flo and Jelle watch as Kaz calls Inej an investment

Flo hits Jelle hard in the side with her elbow

when Kaz finally proposes Jelle does this “yes!!” thing and like claps his hands together, turns to Flo and wraps her up in his arms and spins her around

“that’s our boy”

“he’s very similar to u” she says, strokes his cheek

he kisses her

I really wanna emphasise that even though they didn’t get their happy ending in Lij

the still did get a happy ending

[coeurdastronaute]

Nerd 15

Previously on Nerd

It hadn’t been a particularly good sleep. Lexa felt like she woke up every hour or so, each time checking to make sure the softly snoring girl beside her was still there, still asleep. Despite her own tossing and turning, Clarke didn’t seem to move much, just curled up tightly into herself, against Lexa’s side. Lexa kind of liked the feeling of the other body in her bed. She kind of liked that she was the person Clarke wanted. 

Sometime after the tenth to twelfth time she woke up, Lexa realized the sun was up, and she couldn’t fight with her body waking any longer. Clarke didn’t move, and the night weighed on her girlfriend. 

With a certain effort, Lexa decided to extract herself from the bed, even though Clarke didn’t seem to notice. It actually appeared as if Clarke was a very sound sleeper, as Lexa moved around the room and bumped the edge of her elbow on her desk and hissed at the contact. But as she stood still, she realized Clarke didn’t budge a bit. 

Lexa scrolled through her phone as she tugged on some fresh clothes, checking over her shoulder quickly to make sure Clarke wasn’t peaking for some weird reason. She didn’t want Clarke to know how curious she was about the party before she arrived, but a part of her was incredibly interested in what might have panned out. 

Like a thief, Lexa tugged on socks and buttoned her pants as she danced through the door in her attempt to remain as quiet as humanly possible. It took her a minute to close to door, watching it slowly inch toward the clasp, and finally it clicked nearly silent. She pushed her hair out of her face and slid into the bathroom, shoving a toothbrush into her mouth as she leaned against the counter and scrolled through the feed of Bellamy Blake’s infamous party. 

As she scrubbed she watched the night happen in glimpses. She watched her girlfriend taking shots. She watched her girlfriend in that bikini. She watched her girlfriend look like she was desperately chasing an escape and numbness and it made Lexa mad for her. Lexa spit and rinsed and brushed and decided it was a good idea to scroll through Bellamy’s posts and she couldn’t understand how Clarke could like such different people. Bellamy Blake held week long parties and won state championships and got scouted. Lexa made movies and played board games and couldn’t figure out how to take a bra off. 

With a final rinse she called her sister, hoping the time difference would mean she was awake, but as she bounded down the steps, she was met with a voicemail and furrowed. She needed research and information. Anya knew about all of this. 

“You’re up early for someone having a sleepover with their girlfriend,” her mother greeted her as she looked up from the newspaper spread out across the kitchen island. Her father looked up over the edge of the sports section before looking back down. 

“I told you we didn’t have to worry,” he muttered, flapping the paper out. Lexa rolled her eyes and took a seat. 

“It wasn’t a sleepover.” 

“Your girlfriend spent the night in your bed. I’d call it a sleepover, and I’d say we’re pretty cold parents for allowing it.” 

“I appreciate it, but nothing was going to happen.” 

“Good, because we discussed how alcohol can alter perception and consent--”

“Yes, yes,” Lexa sighed and reached for an apple as her father droned on yet again, hoping to avoid another sex talk. “I know, Dad.” 

They all remained in a respective silence while working past the moment. It was weird, to want to talk to someone, let alone to have anything to talk about, but Lexa felt this need to figure something out, though she wasn’t sure what it would be. She wished her sister had just picked up the phone. 

“So is Clarke…”

“Still asleep.” 

“Did you have fun at the party?” 

“I wasn’t there long,” Lexa shrugged. “I was at Luna’s working on our submission until late. Gus was there, so I knew people.”

She didn’t mention Michelle from math and her bikini. That felt inappropriate. 

“How’s Clarke doing?” her mother pressed, sipping from her coffee again, warily watching her daughter. 

“She’s… I don’t know. Sad. Mad. Stuck. Overwhelmed.” 

“It was nice that you went to get her. I appreciate you telling us what’s going on instead of trying to sneak around. Anya did that. I can’t tell you how many times I had to pretend not to notice boys sneaking around the yard.” 

“Really?” 

“We trust you both,” her father explained. “We just appreciate you doing making us have to stretch it so far.” 

“And we like Clarke, so we’re happy to help.” 

“I don’t really know what else to do, you know?” she muttered, wiping her mouth and leaning against the counter, her knee coming up on the stool. “I think I’d be a little upset too if I were in her shoes, so I would want to probably do a bunch of stuff, but also I don’t want her to be upset.” 

Lexa’s father looked at her and then to his wife. She cocked her head and gave him a look, to which he returned a shrug and ushered her to do something. They were stuck as well because no parenting book prepared them for teenagers. And Anya was very different. 

“You can’t do anything,” he finally offered. 

“Tim!” his wife warned. 

“It’s true. You can’t make this better. It’s between Clarke and her mother and her father. But you can be there for her, and try to encourage her to be healthy about grief and pain. You have some experience, I’d say.” 

Lexa looked back at him and clenched her lips, worrying the bottom one as she mulled over his words. 

“And as much as we love what you want to do and be for Clarke, please don’t forget who you are in all of this. You have needs nad you have goals. Someone else’s wellness is not entirely on your shoulders.” 

“I know.” 

“But just be around. That’s all anyone can do. Be of service to others.” 

“Your father’s right though,” her mother continued. “You can’t fix it, just be there. It’s a boring answer.” 

“If Dad were dying would you have an affair?” 

“Jesus, Lexa.” 

“What?” 

“I’d haunt you,” Tim decided before turning back to his paper. “I’d haunt you really hard.”

“I’m done with both of you today,” she decided, tossing her part of the paper in his lap as she walked through the living room. “It’s not even eight and I’m retreating to my office. I hope you’re both proud.” 

The pair shared a smile and shrugged as she disappeared down the hall. 

“You know, just because we gave you one sleepover, I hope you don’t get too comfortable asking. This was an emergency. It’s always okay in an emergency, and you know the difference.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

“I have golf in a bit, but this afternoon we could do some driving practice if you wanted?” 

“Sounds good,” Lexa smiled. 

For no reason at all, except maybe utter relief that she didn’t have to deal with the same problems Clarke did, she hugged her dad’s neck lazily over the back of the couch before making her way back upstairs. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The vague memories of the night lingered like the stale taste of terrible vodka and beer, and Clarke smacked her lips, hoping to find any kind of liquid to get rid of the dry mouth. But her eyes felt heavy and glued shut, and her stomach felt like it was currently on the spin cycle, so moving wasn’t entirely feasible. 

It had been dumb. It’d been stupid, even. Possibly as far as moronic, to go to Bellamy’s party, but it was the best alternative and boy did it feel nice to escape. Even the current state she found herself in was a welcomed punishment from feeling fine and being unable to exist in the world. Her current physical ailments felt like finally, the universe was manifesting itself, and she could fix the swirling stomach and cottonmouth. She could fix the spinning and soreness and bruises from God-knew what happened last night. 

There wasn’t much else to be done, she suspected. Fix this moment, this hour, this day, and hope to survive to another one. It all had to end at some point. 

Clarke finally managed to open her eyes, a feat she was certain no other human could have accomplished. She looked around Lexa’s room and gratefully accepted the water bottle and aspirin waiting beside the bed. 

It took until halfway chugged, that she realized she was empty and the room was quiet. So she took a breath and held her stomach, certain she could hold it down. Carefully, she dressed, stealing Lexa’s old track sweats and an older soccer shirt, before making her way down the hall in search of something to fill her stomach. 

“Someone else’s wellness is not entirely on your shoulders.” 

“I know.” 

Clarke paused at the top of the stairs when she heard the family talking. It felt like it was about her. She knew it had to be. It made her want to vomit. 

“But just be around. That’s all anyone can do. Be of service to others.” 

“Your father’s right though. You can’t fix it, just be there. It’s a boring answer.” 

It was hard to be the subject of needing things. Clarke wasn’t someone who needed anyone. She wasn’t someone who wanted or needed to depend on anyone, and yet there was a girl, a girl who was too afraid to make a move, who imagined the world in terms of movie scenes and interpreted her own existence in the great world as a cosmic joke, always waiting for the punchline-- and this girl wanted to fix things. 

“If Dad were dying would you have an affair?” 

“Jesus, Lexa.” 

“What?” 

It hadn’t been a joke, but it made Clarke smile. No one expected that Lexa was serious, and she wanted to know the answer. There was shuffling and moving, and Clarke crept her way back to Lexa’s room. 

She felt even dumber than she thought possible for going to see Bellamy. She wouldn’t do it again. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. The words echoed in her head. She meant it, she was certain. She wouldn’t. 

“You’re awake,” Lexa grinned as she quietly closed the door behind her only to find her girlfriend sitting in her bed. 

“I’m never drinking again.” 

“Mhm, we’ll see.” 

“Don’t be mean to me, I’m sick.” 

“You’re hungover.” 

“You don’t know what it feels like, do you?” Clarke accused, accepting the orange and another bottle of water that was handed to her as her girlfriend joined her in bed. 

“Don’t see much appeal.”

“It always seems like a good idea at the time…” 

Lexa just shrugged and crossed her legs. She ran her thumb along the faded script on the side of Clarke’s knee. 

“I should head home,” she decided softly. “Sleep this off and such.” 

“You could sleep here. I’m just going to work on the car a bit. Maybe go for a run. I have homework to finish.” 

“I have to go home at some point.”

“Maybe.” 

“It was very sweet of you to come get me.” 

“I’m just glad you texted.” 

“I’m not going to be like this, you know?” 

“You can be however you want.” 

It was a sweet sentiment that Clarke didn’t have the mental capacity to sit with, she decided, because she wasn’t ready to decide to be anything. But tomorrow, maybe, she’d think about it. She knew what she didn’t want to be, and that seemed like something, at least. 

“I texted Raven to come get me.”

“If you’re sure.” 

“I needed last night to cleanse myself, I think. I need today to regroup.” 

“You have a very weird process,” Lexa decided. 

Clarke just chuckled and leaned forward, burying her face in Lexa’s thigh and sighing. 

XXXXXXXXXX

For the moment, the very tiny, very quick moment, everything felt like it was caught up, and Lexa allowed herself a few moments of quiet in the garage, because come hell or high water, she was going to finish the car by the last day of school. SATs were done, finally, and something that didn’t need to be explicitly worried about until scores were released in a few weeks. Her prom outfit was already purchased and prepared. Homework and studying were done. Sports were over for the season and conditioning wasn’t set to start for another two months, though she’d start her own soon enough. Her girlfriend was at work and then going off to a cheer competition for the weekend. Luna was putting the finishing touches on their film school application project. And anyone else that might ask Lexa to do anything was promptly ignored.

Two weeks before spring break, and Lexa was feeling high on her on efficiency.  

All in all, Lexa decided that she had at least three days to power through as much as she could with her dad in a final push before sending it off to the paint appointment. 

She hadn’t counted on her sister though, and as her phone blared, interrupting the music playing over the speakers, she smacked her head on the body of the car and slid herself from under it, grumbling the entire time. 

“Don’t you have fancy plans. It’s a Friday night,” she chided the eldest. 

“I’m getting ready, I was just thinking about you.” 

“Gross.”

“Because I ran into a girl that asked about you and I had no idea you had a friend at CMU, let alone a drop dead gorgeous film student.” 

Lexa furrowed and twirled her wrench around before trying to dive back in under the seat and finish installing the seatbelts in the back. It dawned on her then and she snorted. 

“That’s just Costia.” 

“Ohhh, just Costia-- who the fuck is Costia?” 

“I met her when I came to visit last fall remember? You were the one telling me to make a move but I was very drunk, something you did to me as well?” 

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” 

“At the party. I posted a picture…” she grunted and twisted. “She found me on Instagram. We talk about movies and I’ve shown her some of my stuff and junk.”

“Interesting.” 

“Why?” 

“Just not many freshman looking to hang out with high school juniors.” 

“I’m clearly advanced.” 

“Clearly,” Anya rolled her eyes over the phone. 

“I’ve been talking to her about film programs and applying--”

“Here? You’re thinking about coming here?” 

“Fuck!” she hissed and sat up, doing her best to suck on the cut that came to her thumb from her maneuvering. “I don’t know.” 

It wasn’t a serious inquiry, Lexa thought to herself. She was set. She had a plan with Luna. They’d had it since they were ten, and there was really on reason to deviate from it. But then a stranger liked her stuff, and this stranger made stuff Lexa liked. And the stranger became a friend who gave her some screenwriting tips and pushed her to get better at it. And the stranger told her the east coast was just as important to film. 

But it didn’t matter. 

There was a plan. 

“You should seriously consider it. It’s a great program I hear. Come out for spring break!” 

“I should stay here.” 

“And do what? Work on that car? Dad already told me he’s sending it out for interior and paint. You’re pretty much done anyway.” 

“Mom and Dad have conferences that week. I was going to watch movies all week with Clarke.”

“Bring her too. Sounds like she needs an escape.” Anya was getting excited, and Lexa was tugged along for the ride. “You can crash in my dorm. Even just for a few days, not the whole week.”

“Mom won’t like me missing so much time to study.” 

“Call it a college visit for a potential school.”

“Luna will lose her mind,” Lexa shook her head and pinched her thumb to try to stop it without a bandaid. 

“Fuck Luna. I’m going to ask Mom if she’d rather you were here, supervised by me, or home alone for a whole week.” 

From the change in volume, Lexa knew she was texting immediately. She sighed. It would be fun to see the school as a potential option. It might even be nice to catch up with Costia. It would even be better to see her sister, who just at the moment, she realized she’d missed since her last visit. 

“Should I ask Clarke if she wants to go?” Lexa finally ventured, returning to her work. 

“Definitely.” 

“Should I really consider your school as an option?” 

“You should.”

She had a plan, Lexa remembered, and there was no point deviating, but she did want to see her sister.

“If they say it’s okay.”

NEXT

[iconic-ponytail]

there's always money in the banana stand

riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business

Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.

She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.

Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.

Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”

Enter: the banana stand.

It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.

Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”

But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.

It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.

Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.

He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.

Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.

(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)

His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.

“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”

Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”

They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.

“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”

Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”

Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”

Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”

Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.

He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.

He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”

Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.

Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”

Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).

“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”

Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”

Betty grins.

I did that.

“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”

Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”

The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”

He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.

“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”

She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”

Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.

“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.

Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”

Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.

“Do you have a pencil?”

He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)

After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—

“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”

The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”

Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.

“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”

Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.

“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”

Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.

Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”

She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”

She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.

“Betty, wait.”

She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.

“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”

Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”

They shake on it.

[kookingtae]

the equation of love (pt. 10)

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt. 10

professor yoongi x uni student reader

→scenario: When you met Yoongi in a club, you thought it was fate that brought the two of you together. But after you walked into your college math class for the very first time, you weren’t so sure anymore.

→genre: smut | fluff | angst

→word count: 10.5k

→a/n: alternatively: fuck it, it’s been five years and this wip has been staring at me for three of them, so im just gonna post it. i have not read this over since 2018, so pls dont judge me too harshly hhsdg it’s unedited and probably a bit cringy, but then again what ch of teol isnt? this is NOT all that i have planned for the series, but i figured something is better than nothing, right? and perhaps the saying better later than never applies here, too. maybe one day i’ll finally get around to finishing it (by then im sure no one will even be around to remember what teol is lmao) but until then, enjoy what ive been sitting on! and as always, if you’re still here, thank you for your endless patience and support with this series <3

→another a/n: after this will probably be an epilogue!

→tw: mentions of blackmail, r*pe and sexual assault (we mostly just get closure on the whole professor lee & jun situation!!)

→warning: this chapter is not a happy ending, but it’s not necessarily a BAD one either, so for those who don’t like to finish on an unhappy note, it’s up to you on whether you’d like to read it or wait for the epilogue to be posted!

Running water.

It was such a simple yet fascinating concept—atoms and molecules coming together to form the only substance on earth that has a natural state in all forms, while having the power to kill in three different ways. Solid, by hypothermia; liquid, by drowning; gas, by suffocation. This substance can take three different forms, yet it's most commonly a liquid, covering nearly 71% of the world with translucent bodies of water. Oceans, ponds, lakes—though the most enchanting of them all were rivers. They were always moving, crashing beyond rocks and bustling with the flow of the current and gravitational pull of the earth. Rivers were passionate, and strong, and no matter how hard one tried they couldn't break the whipping tide that was pushing against them. Nothing could cause the powerful force to falter.

But, like most things, even rivers must come to an end. The current stops flowing, and the waves stop breaking around the jagged rocks, and the powerful force that seemed it would never end dulls to a still, calm lull, as if the river was nothing more than a brief yet raging storm. All the passion, all the fight—over in a blink of an eye, left to dissipate into the mysteries of the vast ocean.

Staring down at the picture on the cell phone screen in front of me was like getting pulled by the current of a river; down, down, down I flowed until there was no river left around me and I was left stranded in the middle of the sea. Yoongi and I were once raging, and passionate, and ready to fight against anyone who tried to tear us down, but now the fight was over. We had been dragged too far, fading into a body of water that was not our own. This was bigger than us.

Yes, like the flow of a river, all things must come to an end.

"That's it," Yoongi gritted his teeth, and I felt the dip of the mattress beneath me as he rose to his feet in anger.

"Yoongi," I called his name in a warning tone, warily standing up from the bed and watching him move around the room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm over it," he said, hastily throwing the first articles of clothing he could grab from his drawers over his body. "I'm done dealing with all of this, Y/N! I'm going up to the school."

Despite the flare of determination that sparked in my heart at his words, his rage seeming to radiate off of him and onto me as well, I couldn't help the trepidation that I was also filled with; Yoongi didn't have a history of making rational decisions out of anger.

"Don't you think you should calm down first?" I offered, trying my best to match his pace around the room.

"No!" Yoongi suddenly skidded to a halt in front of me, his eyes wild and crazed. "I'm going to find her and I'm going to fucking kill her!"

I could only stand with a gaping mouth and watch as he stormed out of the room, leaving me with no choice but to pull on my old clothes and chase his stomping foot steps. He grabbed his keys before storming out of the apartment, down the stairs, and outside into the parking lot. I tried to ignore the blindingly bright sunlight as I squinted my eyes and continued after him.

"Follow me up to the school," Yoongi barked as he hopped into his car.

"Yoongi–" I started, but my consoling voice was cut off by the slam of his door. I frowned, scrambling to unlock my vehicle as his engine roared to life.

The drive to the university was a nerve-wracking one. I kept a watchful eye on Yoongi to make sure he wasn't speeding or swerving all over the road; they say you're not supposed to operate a vehicle while you're upset. Though it would seem my efforts were futile, because he did in fact speed and swerve, and all I could do was frown and try to keep up.

It wasn't that I wasn't angered by Professor Lee; I was furious, rage and disgust and frustration all stewing inside of me like a pot of water that was ready to boil over. But I just couldn't help but worry for Yoongi. I had always been the non-confrontational type, always hoping that with a little time things would get better if they were ignored long enough. But it would seem that my method was proven inefficient today, because as much as I had tried to ignore her antics, that wicked woman wouldn't stop at anything to make sure Yoongi and I were properly dragged through the mud and going down like a ship engulfed in flames. Yet as much as that angered me, I couldn't bare the thought of the turmoil it was causing Yoongi. I didn't know when I had started casting my own feelings aside and putting his above—it was a gradual thing rather than one, defining moment—but it was only another factor that proved how much I actually loved this man. And that very thought instilled a fear that shook me to the very bone.

We had a lot more to lose now than just his job and my education. We could be losing us. And that was more important now than it had ever been before.

Once we arrived at the university there were a lot of screeching brakes, messy parking and fumbling hands as I scrambled to catch up to his looming figure that seemed to stalk towards the building at an unnatural pace. The pounding of my heavy heartbeat was what drove me forward, anxiety rising with each quickened step that I took.

"Yoongi!" I yelled once I had lessened the distance between us, now dead center on the campus sidewalk. "Yoongi, wait!"

All of a sudden he whirled around, his abrupt halt causing me to crash straight into his chest. I let out a yelp in surprise, eyes wide and ready to interrogate him, before I felt the smooth curvature of his palms on either side of my face as he tilted my head up to his and slammed his mouth onto mine.

The world stopped spinning for a moment, everything around me fading into the motions of his plush skin, his soft lips exploding with flavor and spilling over my tastebuds, satisfying my thirst in a way that no water ever could. I didn't even question it for a second before I was melting into him, quite literally becoming putty in his hands as the rest of the world instantaneously escaped my mind.

It's funny the way that worked—the way he was able to completely erase everything that had once existed in the blink of an eye, just by his simple touch. Whether it was magic, or I was just that fucking whipped, I didn't know. But either way, I didn't possess the power to stop it even if I wanted to.

When Yoongi finally broke away, he was breathing heavily, his breath fanning across my face in cool puffs of air. "I don't care what anyone thinks anymore," he spoke onto my lips, his forehead pressing against mine with a firm force. "Let them see. The only thing I care about is you."

It was then that I was suddenly aware of our surroundings, the reality of our world crashing down around me as I glanced around at all the eyes watching us. It varied; there were those choosing to spare us a glance as they walked to and from their classes, those who stalled their current actions to lift their heads to us not once, not twice, but three times, and then there were those who stopped altogether, their widened eyes and slackened jaws dead giveaways that they knew exactly who Yoongi was: Professor Min, Algebra 101 instructor.

A stroke of his thumb across my cheek brought my attention back to him; I stared up into his eyes, the desperate look in them captivating me and making it impossible to look away. His chest was rising and falling beneath his shirt, his fingers were grappling at my face as he brushed my wisps of hair out of the way, silently begging me to understand, to agree with him.

And in that moment, I knew what I had to do.

My lungs were filled with a breath of newfound determination, dazed and driven by Yoongi's words and embrace. "I love you," I spoke with conviction, caressing the nape of his neck as if to give him more reassurance. "Let's go.”

With that I grabbed his hand, holding my head high for the rest of the campus to see as I started up Yoongi's stride towards the school's building. He was right beside me, weaving his fingers through mine and giving my hand an extra squeeze as if to say that he was here, that he was proud to let the world know that I was his and he was mine, and that he wasn't going anywhere.

We were going to take down Professor Lee.

The seminar room was empty of students when we stormed in. Seats were placed throughout the floor, papers were scattered on the desks, and Professor Lee was at the front of the room, fiddling with the cords from the projector screen.

At the sound of the door opening, her head snapped up. "Well well well, look what we have here," she smirked when she saw us, making no plans to move as she saw me marching over to her. "You know, I really don't think–"

Slap!

The impact of my palm to her face cut off her words, skin on skin contact crackling through the room and echoing into a deafening silence.

Professor Lee gasped, immediately grasping where a red mark was now forming on her cheek before looking up at me with wild eyes. "You just slapped me!" She cried in disbelief.

"You're damn right I did," I gritted my teeth, taking a threatening step towards her and raising my palm. "Want me to do it again?"

It was then that I felt Yoongi's hand on my back, the feeling having an instant calming effect over my senses whether he wanted it to or not. I sighed before visibly relaxing and lowering my hand.

"You're barbaric!" Professor Lee was foaming at the mouth, still holding her face with a slack jaw. "Are you forgetting that I'm a professor? When Dr. Kim finds out about this, I swear he'll–"

"Tell him!" I roared as loud as my vocal chords would let me. "Tell whoever, tell the whole world, I don't fucking care! I'm done with your bullshit, you selfish psychotic witch!"

With that I gave her one final shove against her shoulders, and when both of her hands flew out to grab ahold her surroundings in an effort to keep from falling over, I planted another slap right across her face. The impact stung my hand, but I didn't care. Seeing Professor Lee stumble through the air was worth it.

"Baby," Yoongi spoke in a gentle yet warning tone next to me, and I had almost forgotten he was there until I felt his grip slightly tighten around my waist. It was a comforting hold, as if to say he completely trusted and supported whatever I chose to do in this situation, but still a protective hold nonetheless. He wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get myself hurt.

"You know, what is your problem, exactly?" I tilted my head at her as she struggled to get her bearings straight. "Is there an actual reason you're doing all of this, or are you just mentally insane?"

"It–it's not right!" Professor Lee stuttered with wide eyes, raising a shaky finger to point at me and Yoongi. "Your relationship, it's–"

"Oh cut the bullshit, Sara," Yoongi let out a sound of disgust from beside me. "We all know that's not why."

"I... I..." she stumbled for words, wide eyes glancing back and forth between the two of us. "Who do you guys think you are? You can't just storm in here and start attacking me–"

I took a menacing step forward, pure rage making up for what I lacked in intimidation. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I fumed, reaching out to grab her again.

"No, please!" She suddenly cowered before I could get to her, shielding her head away from me with her arms. "I—Yoongi, I'm in love with you!"

Her confession sent me reeling backwards in a downwards spiral, my body instantly going limp as I watched her with a dumbfounded expression. A vast silence echoed throughout the room that could be cut with a knife before she finally spoke again.

"Ever since you started working here, I knew you were the one. I just knew it." Her voice was sad, exhausted now, and a look of defeat washed over her features.

"What?" Yoongi gaped in disbelief. "Sara, that was two years ago!"

"I know!" She spat harshly. "You don't think I know that? For two years, I had to deal with this silly crush I had on you. I had to spend every day with you, watching it bloom into love overtime, and there was nothing I could do about it."

"You could've just told me!" Yoongi exclaimed as if that was the obvious answer.

Professor Lee snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, and be made a fool of? No thanks." She lowered her eyes to the ground.

"Sara, we're grown adults. You could've acted like one and fucking said something to me about it, made a move, anything but drag my career under the bus!" Yoongi's voice was strained now, his eyes wide as if silently begging her to understand him while he was equally trying to understand her.

"I was going to!" She lashed out again while whipping her head up towards him. "I was working up the courage to ask you out on a date, and then I see that fucking slut on your lap and I–"

"Don't you dare call Y/N that," Yoongi suddenly growled, pushing past me and stepping towards her intimidatingly. "One more thing out of your mouth about her and I swear to god I will kill you right here, right now."

My breath hitched in my throat at his threat and I couldn't help but weave my arm around his to grab his hand, intertwining our fingers and squeezing tightly. He gripped mine back even tighter, as if he was desperately trying to latch onto whatever calming effect I seemed to have over him.

Professor Lee swallowed, choosing to stay silent and watch him carefully as jagged breaths rose and fell from her chest. "The point is," she continued on, "I saw you with someone else—someone who wasn't me. And that completely tore my heart to shreds."

"So the only solution is to ruin our lives," I chimed in sarcastically.

"I may not have gone about it the best way," she quickly gritted her teeth and shot me a glare before turning her attention back to Yoongi, "but I had to act on instinct. I still wanted to be with you, so I figured that maybe if I split the two of you up, you would have no one else to turn to but me."

Yoongi just stared at her, his face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and disgust. "Do you know how sick and twisted that is?" He asked.

"All I ever wanted was to be with you, Yoongi," she pleaded, her tone vulnerable now as she took a tentative step towards him and started to raise her hand up to caress his cheek. "I still do. It's not too late; we can leave now, just you and me and forget this whole thing–"

"Don't fucking touch me," he knocked her hand away with his forearm just before it could reach his face. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you, you're even crazier than I thought." He then stepped back to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me securely into his side. "I'm in love with Y/N, and I don't give a shit what rumors you or anyone else wants to spread about it. You're fucking pathetic."

At that moment there was the sound of a door bursting open, causing the three of us to turn our attention to the entrance of the room. There, standing in the doorway, was Dr. Kim.

The sight of him immediately deflated the elation I was feeling from Yoongi's words, instantly replacing them with a sense of anxiety and fear that lodged its way into my throat until I was sure I would die from suffocation. This was it; according to the text from Professor Lee, he had already seen the picture of me and Yoongi kissing. This was the moment that would decide our future forever.

I just hoped we had enough evidence against Professor Lee for him to take our side.

"So let me get this straight." Dr. Kim folded his hands on the dark oak wood of his office desk. "Professor Min and Y/N had relations before Y/N became a student here, while Yoongi was unaware of her age?"

"Yes sir," Yoongi nodded his head in assurance.

"And then you continued your relationship, even after finding out that she was your student."

"He didn't at first," I interjected in hopes of getting some of the heat off of Yoongi. "He tried to call it off, but I kept pushing it. The reason we got back together during school was my fault, not his."

Yoongi's eyes met mine from the chair next to me, his gaze seeming to hold the words that silently spoke that's not true, and I instantly knew what he was thinking. In actuality, he had been the one to give me after-school tutoring on that Saturday during the homecoming football game, not I. He had been the one to kiss me first that day. But there was no way in hell I would ever tell that to the dean.

"I don't care whose fault it is; all that matters is that it happened," Dr. Kim frowned. "And it's still happening if I'm not mistaken, correct?"

"I... um," my eyes flickered to Yoongi, every fiber of my being starting to fill with panic. Shit, we should've discussed this beforehand. I wasn't going to willingly rat Yoongi out, no matter how many times he's said he didn't care anymore if people knew about us.

Suddenly I felt the warm, soft sensation of skin wrapping around the curvature of my hand that was resting atop the wooden armrest. "Yes, it's still happening," Yoongi spoke, and then his fingers were intertwining with mine.

I practically choked on my own spit at his words; did this boy have a death wish? A cough came sputtering out of my lungs, the sound causing everyone in the room to look at me until I'd settled down. Even Professor Lee leaned forward from her seat on the other side of Yoongi, bewilderment written all over her expression as she gave me a look of disgust.

"Well there's your proof right there." She threw her hands up in defeat before gesturing to the two of us. "What more do you need? Expel them, Dr. Kim."

"B–but that's not it!" I suddenly exclaimed and lurched forward, feeling the heat of everyone's stare on our embraced hands, which in turn only made me grip him even harder for support. "Dr. Kim, you have to believe me when I tell you that Professor Lee has worked hard to make my life a living hell ever since I got to this school. She had a vendetta against me; she's in love with Yoongi, and so she–"

"That's not true!" Professor Lee screeched.

"She worked to turn people against us rather than coming to you because she wanted to blackmail Yoongi into being with her," I ignored her interjection and continued. "She even made a seminar about it—the mandatory seminar that everyone attended today!"

The dean turned his attention towards her. "The seminar about the importance of practicing safe sex?" He questioned in bewilderment.

My eyes practically bulged out of my head at his words; that's what she was telling everyone it was about?

"It was!" She scrambled in defense. "I mean I... I may have brought up Yoongi and Y/N as an example, but that's only because they fit the part! Y/N had a pregnancy scare not too long ago, and I didn't want the same thing to happen to our students!"

I felt the color draining from my face, blanching it a stone cold white and decimating any feeling I had left in my body.

How the fuck did she know about the pregnancy?

My head instantly whipped towards Yoongi to see if he had any logical explanation for this, and his face was as poised and stoic as ever in front of his two colleagues—but I could see through it. I knew him well enough to catch onto the slightest falter in his blinking, the increase in heat that collected between our palms, the small twitch of his mouth that would've gone unnoticed by anyone else who observed him. I knew there was no way he could've told Professor Lee about the pregnancy, because he was just as blindsided as I was.

Dr. Kim simply raised his eyebrows in interest before turning back to Yoongi and me.

"Dr. Kim," Yoongi spoke, his voice dripping with amusement, "I mean no disrespect, but do you honestly think that if Y/N had a pregnancy scare, we would tell Sara about it? Come on; not after all she did to us."

"They—they didn't tell me!" Professor Lee huffed out a desperate breath. "I overheard them while I was–"

"While you were what?" I interrupted with a raise of my eyebrow. "While you were spying on us to find any blackmail you could use on Yoongi?"

"N–no!" She stuttered, though at this point it was obvious that she was making up lies on the spot. "While I was walking past the classroom!"

"Why would we be talking about that with the door open?!"

"Enough!" Dr. Kim barked, his deep voice rumbling throughout the small office. We all grew silent as we turned our attention to him. "There will be no arguing of he said/she said in my office," he scolded, then turned his attention to Yoongi before speaking. "I understand that there was someone you wanted me to see?"

Yoongi, who had remained calm during all of this, simply nodded his head before releasing my hand. "Yes, sir," he said as he stood up and walked towards the door.

My eyebrows were knitted in confusion as I watched it all transpire: the words exchanged between the two men, Yoongi rising out of his seat, the sight of my biology professor being revealed behind the closed door. The whole thing came as a surprise to me, and my emotions seemed to be having a war between the shock and relief that I felt raging like a storm in the pit of my stomach.

Why didn't Yoongi tell me about Professor Park being involved in this discussion? When did he have time to ask her to come? Did it even matter at this point?

"Professor Park," Dr. Kim widened his eyes, his frame physically reclining back in his seat. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"As am I to be here," she smiled though her voice was venomous, eyes flashing to a very alarmed Professor Lee.

"Mia?!" The woman barked in disbelief at her friend's entrance. "What are you doing here?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago," Professor Park replied, and with that she turned towards the dean and opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm here to testify on the behalf of Min Yoongi and Y/N."

Earth-shattering elation rippled through me from the inside out, starting at the base of my toes and spiraling to the top of my head and the tips of my fingers, causing them to tingle and buzz with a newfound sense of hope. We might actually have a chance!

"What?!" Professor Lee's voice ripped through the air in a deafening screech. "This isn't a court case! You don't get to play witness!"

"Actually, if Professor Park has witnessed anything, I would definitely like to know," Dr. Kim chimed in, raising an eyebrow towards my biology professor.

Professor Park nodded her head towards him in appreciation before speaking. "A few months ago Sara approached me in my classroom to tell me about the nasty rumors that were surrounding her and a student. She singled the student out, saying to purposely damage their grades because they were treating her unfairly and disrespecting her rules and authority as a professor; she even went so far as to say that they were sending her death threats"

"What?!" The word ripped from my throat faster than I could blink as I stared jaw-dropped at the women in the room.

"That's not true!" Professor Lee instantly protested as expected. "Sir, I can assure you that I never–"

"I have the text messages if you want," Professor Park offered in a tone so nonchalant one would've thought she was conversing about the weather.

Dr. Kim raised an eyebrow. "Text messages? I thought you said she came by your class?"

"She did, sir." Mia interlaced her fingers in front of her and bowed her head politely. "We spoke about it on multiple occasions. I asked why she wouldn't just go to you, or even the authorities if the student was making death threats, but Sara was adamant. She didn't want any scandals revolving around her so that she could maintain the level of professionalism that she had developed here."

I heard a snort coming from next to me, and it was with a swollen heart of pride that I realized the sound came from Yoongi trying to hold in a laugh.

Professionalism? Her? I had never heard anything so far fetched in my life.

Sara simply glared as Mia ignored him and continued. "She assured me that the best way to deal with this pesky student was to slowly start to fail them, and I'll admit, I was angry for her. Sara was my friend, and I respected her enough to believe what she was telling me and follow her requests." She turned her head to where I sat on the other side of Yoongi. "That student was you, Y/N. And I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for the way I handled things. You were treated unfairly and poorly due to false information."

"It wasn't false!" Professor Lee jumped in to defend herself, but everyone was pretty much ignoring her. Even the dean could tell she was playing the part of the boy who cried wolf at this point.

"I'd like to see those text messages, if you don't mind." Dr. Kim reached his hand out expectantly.

There was a brief moment of silence while Professor Park nodded and tapped away on her phone before handing it to him. His cold and calculated eyes scanned the screen while saying nothing, all three of us waiting with bated breath for him to come to a decision in his mind.

There was no where left for her to run. With these text messages, all the constant denying that Professor Lee has done will be proven false and she will be exposed for all the hell she's put me through this semester. My heart was practically bursting at the thought.

"Well I would've appreciated it if you ladies had come to me with this information instead of handling it amongst yourselves, true or not," Dr. Kim finally sighed before giving Sara his full attention. "Ms. Lee, you have three people accusing you. Even if you didn't do it, there's obviously something that's turning them against you. And here at this university we strive to hold cooperation and communication above all else. If you don't get along with the fellow staff here, then why should I believe that they're the problem and not you?"

"Um, because Min Yoongi is fucking his student?!" Professor Lee was fuming now, her upper body lurching forward in her seat and her hands gripping the arm rests for dear life. "He literally just admitted to it!"

"Language, Ms. Lee," Dr. Kim scolded calmly. "I still like to maintain a professional attitude here in my office."

"I apologize sir, but that's beside the point." She was sitting back in her seat now, though her tone was no less frantic. "Min Yoongi is in a relationship with his student, and staff cooperation or not, I don't really think that's in the teacher handbook." She raised a snarky eyebrow at us as if believing that she had finally won.

I knitted my eyebrows, my palms feeling slick with a nervous sweat against Yoongi's as I realized the bigger problem here. It wasn't whatever lies and schemes Professor Lee had cooked up with my biology teacher; it wasn't even Professor Lee herself. It was the fact that Yoongi and I were in a relationship, and that was going to have enough consequences alone to shake me to my very core with fear.

"She's right," Dr. Kim uttered the words that I was silently hoping he wouldn't say, my grip tightening on Yoongi as I anticipated whatever outcome he's decided. Our fate was in his hands.

"Of course I am." Professor Lee crossed her arms and sat back in her seat with a smug grin.

"I'm afraid I have no choice." He was shaking his head, frowning at us apologetically though the sentiment didn't reach his eyes. "Mr. Min, I am sorry to inform you that you will have to be forced to resign from our university."

The color instantly drained from my face, and with it pulling all five senses that I have into the depths of the earth until I couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't speak—I could barely even breathe. There was a lump that was forming in my throat and settling deep within my gut, all of this feeling fake, too fake to be real.

Yoongi was fired, and it was all because of me.

"I understand, sir."

It was Yoongi's words that were pulling me from my fog of disbelief and devastation, my eyes blinking in an effort to snap back to reality as I looked from him to the dean. "No. No, there has to be something we can do, please!" I begged, my voice starting to get frantic the more the severity of the situation hit me. "I–I'll drop out! You don't have to worry about me ever coming near here again, just please, please don't fire him!"

"Y/N..." Yoongi's voice was quiet and full of resignation, defeat, but I wasn't giving up.

"Yoongi is an amazing professor who has worked here for, what, two years? He's extraordinary at what he does and students love him. It's not easy to find a professor like that everyday." I was staring into the eyes of the dean now, trying to move him with my words. "You shouldn't throw away someone as great as him just because of some stupid 18 year old's mistake! Please, Dr Kim." I leaned forward in my seat, the room silent as I spoke. "He wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for me. Please, let me suffer the consequences, not him."

I continued to stare in Dr. Kim's eyes, silently channeling my emotions through the pleading expression in my eyes, and it wasn't until I felt a comforting hand on my back that I was instantly drawn away into a more calm state in my chair. I gazed over at the owner of the hand, and he flashed back that smile I loved except it was sad, and it didn't reach his eyes, and I could tell there was so much he wanted to say to me right now if we weren't in the confinement of his boss' office.

"I understand your efforts, Y/N, but there's nothing I can do." Dr. Kim shook his head, and it was as if the world around me was shattering into blades of glass, scraping at my skin and leaving bloody wounds that I knew would never heal. "Mr. Min was involved in this relationship as well, and no matter whose fault it is, the professor needs to be held accountable. There is a level of professionalism and maturity that he must possess in order to work here; he's your superior, a respectable authority figure, and so he should've known better."

It was all I could do to keep from crying as I lowered my eyes and shook my head, every inch of my heart breaking for Yoongi until all that was left were tiny fragments to scatter in the wind. I couldn't believe I'd done this to him. The very thing he'd been worried about from the start—I had ruined his career.

"It is our goal as a university to see our students succeed," he continued, though I could barely hear a thing. "As for you, Y/N, I see no reason as to why you shouldn't keep attending this university."

I blinked a few times, confused. "You want me to... what?"

"You will have a suspension on your student records, mind you, and one more of those will lead to expulsion," he explained. "Though that doesn't mean that you can't keep going to school here. You will have to meet with an advisor every two weeks, though, who will be keeping a close watch on your behavior."

I could barely even believe my ears; had my hearing been completely lost due to the shock of the situation? "That's totally a double standard!" I gestured to Yoongi in disbelief.

"Y/N, it's okay..." Yoongi tried to calm me down.

"No, it's not okay!" I roared, eyes wide and brows furrowed in disbelief as I glanced at him before turning back to the dean. "Where do you think you can get off by treating people like this? This is his career—his life!"

"That will be enough from you, Ms. Y/N," Dr. Kim bellowed in a stern voice as he frowned. "I'm doing you a favor here by letting you continue your education. Speak out against me one more time and I will be revoking that offer."

His words were deafening throughout the office; it was suddenly understandable why he was so feared by those who worked under him. Yoongi started to run his hand along my spine in a soothing manner, and though it helped relax my fiery nerves and clear my foggy mind, I was still just as upset—if not more, now that the information was beginning to settle in.

"So that's it then?" Professor Lee spoke for the first time in a while, her lips pressed into a firm line, obviously disappointed by the turn of events though she didn't dare to speak out against Dr. Kim as he had warned. "Yoongi gets fired and Y/N gets a free ride?"

"Not so fast, Ms. Lee." The dean turned to her. "What you did was beyond unprofessional. You violated several school policies as well as bullied a student! Do you think that type of behavior is acceptable as a professor?"

Professor Lee opened her mouth as if to protest before slowly shutting it again, realizing that she had nothing left that she hadn't already denied. It was obvious that the evidence given to him by Professor Park, who stood silent in the corner of the room, was incriminating enough to sway his decision.

"I'm sorry to have to inform you that you will be fired as well."

"What?!" Her shrill voice screeched through the air, tearing whatever I had left of my eardrums and rendering me deaf here in this office. "What I did was no where near as bad as Yoongi and Y/N!"

"If anything, it was worse." Dr. Kim folded his hands over his desk. "Let's not forget that you managed to involve the entire student body in a false seminar that maliciously exposed one of our students and professors," he raised an eyebrow at her, "and that was just today."

"Yeah, not to mention all the other shit you did behind my back to make my life a living hell," I couldn't help from interjecting in a heated tone, though I backed off upon seeing the dean's stern gaze.

He redirected his attention back to Sara. "Here at this university, we strive to have a professional relationship, safe environment, and healthy lifestyle for our students. Neither of you achieved those three goals, so both of you will have to be let go."

Yoongi's expression simply remained placid and free of any emotion while Professor Lee's reaction was practically visceral, though neither spoke a word as heavy silence fell over the small office.

"Am I... am I still needed, sir?" It was Professor Park whose voice broke through the tension, everyone having forgotten she was there in the midst of the emotion-filled chaos. "Because if not, then I'm going to go."

"No, I'm just about finished here." Dr. Kim let out a sigh, as if what just transpired had been hard on him out of all people in the room. My blood boiled just looking at him, though I know I had to learn when to speak out and when to bite my tongue as Yoongi had taught me.

"Dr. Kim, is there any way you can reconsi–"

"That will be enough from you, Ms. Lee," his booming voice interrupted the frantic professor. "I've said all that I need to say on the matter. I'm not changing my mind."

"Dr. Kim?" I spoke up just as Professor Lee and Professor Park were getting ready to walk out the door. "I–I have something else to tell you. Un-related to this," I threw in when I saw him throw a glance in Lee's direction.

The man sighed before waving them out, leaving his office empty of visitors other than me and Yoongi in the chairs. I wasn't going to let that boy go anywhere.

"Y/N, I'm sorry that the outcome isn't exactly what you wanted but I'm afraid there's nothing I can–"

"Choi Junwoo tried to rape me," I blurted out.

There was a moment's pause as the dean was stunned silent with wide eyes, and out of my peripheral vision I could see Yoongi tense up and inhale sharply next to me.

"W–what–"

"Choi Junwoo," I spoke slowly for him so that he'd understand, "a student here at this university, tried to rape me at a frat party."

I couldn't leave the office without saying it. I couldn't leave the office without telling him. This wasn't just about me or the turmoil or trauma he caused; this was for every other girl in the future who might be a victim of Jun. Though in my heart I truthfully believed he was a good person, and that he really was just intoxicated beyond belief that night, it was still no excuse. If he had rape-tendencies while he was drunk and I didn't speak out about it, then I would be no better when it came to helping other sexual assault victims.

"Are you sure–"

"I found them at the party while he was mid-act," Yoongi jumped in, probably figuring he was already fired so there was nothing left for him to lose when it came to revealing details about our relationship outside of school. "It was... disgusting. I got her out of there immediately, but not before punching that bastard in the face."

"Metaphorically, of course!" I couldn't help but chime in, not wanting an assault charge to be on his record as well.

Thankfully Dr. Kim simply brushed off that minuet detail in favor for the more important issue at hand. "Y/N, what you're telling me will ruin this student's future. Are you absolutely sure you want to file this?"

Despite the anger that swelled up inside of me from him questioning my accusation, I still couldn't help the little trickle of doubt that crept in as I considered his words. At one point, Jun had been a friend... maybe even a potential lover had Yoongi not been in the picture. Dr. Kim was right, this information could potentially ruin his reputation, his education, his record... was I ready to carry the weight of knowledge that I've ruined someone's life forever?

"What are you talking about? Of course!" Yoongi spat an answer before I even had a chance to finish my thoughts. "She told you what happened, didn't she? Why would she speak out about something like this if she was making it up?"

"Maybe a personal vendetta?" The dean shrugged his shoulders. "People will do crazy things for revenge."

Now that got me heated. "The only one who wanted revenge here was Junwoo!" I stood up from my seat to yell. "He liked me and was mad that I turned him down. As if I owed my feelings to him or something! And when I told him no, he forced himself on me?! Is that really the type of message you want to send at this college? You know, since you're so high and mighty on "cooperation"," I did air quotes of sarcasm around my last words, my ears practically steaming with boiling rage.

"We will come out about this story, by the way," Yoongi added in, his voice full of venom. "And how will that look if you tried to keep us silent?"

"You can forget about me attending this university," I hissed.

"Alright, alright, settle down, the both of you," Dr. Kim lowered his hands in a calming manner. "I was not suggesting I buy your silence or anything of that nature. I was simply making sure you wanted to go through with this."

"Yes," Yoongi and I both answered in unison.

The dean nodded his head before clasping his hands together. "Alright."

The rest of the time in the office with spent filling on paperwork on a claim against Junwoo. I'd been given the option to be kept in the loop or even present when everything went down, though I politely declined. I wanted nothing more to do with that boy.

Though it would seem Professor Lee didn't share the same sentiment when it came to me, because as soon as soon as the two of us walked hand in hand into the hallway and Dr. Kim's door was securely shut, she sprung into action.

"You bitch!" She shrieked, not wasting another second as she leaped through the air and onto my body like a crouched tiger that was waiting for the right moment to attack. I felt the pressure of her weight against my chest and the sting of her nails scraping against my cheek, and before I knew it I was stumbling down, down onto the ground with another vicious blow to my jaw that was accompanied by her fist.

It all happened within a matter of seconds, but it wasn't long until I heard Yoongi yell Sara! and then her weight vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

All I could do was stare with wide eyes as Yoongi slammed her shoulders back against the wall, though it was the look in his eyes that caught my attention. I had seen that expression before.

He was about to throw a punch.

"Yoongi, stop!" I cried, summoning all the strength I possessed to push myself to my feet and stumble over to the pair.

Yoongi whipped his head towards me with exasperated, almost wild eyes and his brows knitted in confusion and disbelief. "Y/N, she attacked you!"

"She isn't worth it," I spoke firmly in an attempt to get through to him. "Yoongi, just let it go. She isn't worth the trouble anymore."

It was when I placed a soothing hand against his back that Yoongi finally sighed, his stance visibly relaxing and his hands dropping from Professor Lee's shoulders. "She's right," he spit in a low, venomous tone as he turned back to her and grit his teeth. "Thanks to Dr. Kim, you already got what you deserve."

"Yoongi," there were sudden sobs that were tearing through the hallway, and it took me a moment to realize that Professor Lee was now... crying.

"Yoongi," she continued as she clung onto his shoulders. "Yoongi, I loved you!"

Somewhere deep inside of me, past all the burning hatred for what this woman has done to my life out of pure jealousy, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her. This was once me, heartbroken over the effects of unrequited love. Yoongi was a very sought-after man, I'd come to realize, and it wasn't about my feelings or Professor Lee's or anyone else's. It was about his.

"Sara," Yoongi sighed, and there was almost a wince in his tone from how hard he was trying to make her understand. "It's over."

"W–what?" The woman was scrambling now. "It doesn't have to be! We can go back to the way things were–"

"There never was a ‘we’!" He ripped her hands from his shoulders. "We were friends, and then you sabotaged my career and Y/N's education. You never once spoke out about your feelings, came forward, handled things like adults," he stressed the last line. "You never once did any of those things! Instead you belittled another woman and cost yourself your job all for a man—someone who until now, was your friend." Yoongi sighed again and shook his head. "I hope you get the help you need, Sara. I'm sure there is someone out there who will love you unconditionally... but that person is not me."

And with that, he put a gentle hand on my back and we walked away.

“Oh my god.”

Those were the first words out of my mouth the second we exited the building, my hands resting on my head in disbelief as I turned to Yoongi. “Holy shit, Yoongi–“

“Shhh,” he instantly consoled me, his arms engulfing me in a comforting hug and my face tucking underneath his chin as he held me close. “We did it, Y/N. It’s all over.”

I stayed in his embrace for a few moments as his words sunk in. It was all over. No more secrets, no more Professor Lee—no more anything.

“B–but your job...” I pulled away to look up at him with a shaky tone, my brows furrowed in concern. “Dr. Kim fired you, he–“

“I resigned, Y/N. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” I couldn’t help but look up at him with a hopeless expression.

Yoongi simply nodded his head, the picture of nonchalance as if his career hadn’t just changed forever. “Yes. If I had gotten fired, it would look terrible on my resumé should I apply for another teaching position. However, given the circumstances of our arrangement...” he paused, no doubt thinking of Professor Lee, “I suppose he decided to take it easy on us all.”

My shoulders deflated in relief. “Well thank god for that...” I sighed, not even wanting to think of what could’ve happened if Dr. Kim had given us the harshest punishment. In an ironic, twisted way, I suppose I have Professor Lee to thank for that. If she wouldn’t have made my life a living hell, it would’ve been that much worse if Dr. Kim ever found out on his own.

“But none of that even matters to me right now,” Yoongi suddenly snapped, and then in the time it took me to raise an questioning eyebrow he had already grabbed both sides of my face and rammed his lips into mine, the same as he did before we went inside to confront Professor Lee.

Only this time, the kiss was different. It didn’t hold promises and potential; it held freedom. It held the success of finally getting through everything by the skin of our teeth, the relief and the pride and the pure love that we have for each other after overcoming everything that we’ve been through together. I kissed him and I didn’t care who saw—because he wasn’t my professor anymore. There were no invisible chains that bounded us apart. It was just me and him sticking together against all odds. Never in my life did I think I would ever be a part of a relationship so committed, so passionate, so determined. He and I would never stop fighting for each other.

“I love you, Min Yoongi,” I murmured against his mouth with a grin on my features that was hard to disguise—especially when I felt the corners of his lips pull up into that gummy smile that I adored with all of my heart.

“God, I love you too, Y/N,” he replied back with a content sigh, and then he continued to kiss me on the busy campus sidewalk until we were both breathless and blue in the face.

Because we now had nothing to lose.

Despite finally being released from the clutches that school had on us, the days following the meeting with Dr. Kim were not easy.

Other than having to put on a fake smile and continue attending a university where practically everyone knew about my relationship with now-former Professor Min (my mother would never let me drop out—not that I could ever tell her the reason I'd want to, anyways), there were the stresses that Yoongi was dealing with of now being unemployed. And what with all but abandoning my dorm room to instead spend my nights with him at his apartment, it was impossible to not feel the weight of his problems on my shoulders as well. No matter how many times Yoongi tried to put up a façade and reassure me that he was okay, I couldn't help but feel like this was my fault.

"If I just never would've made you dance with me at that club..." I'd say at times, unable to keep from tracing back each and every one of our interactions and blaming myself.

"Cut that out," Yoongi would snap.

"What? It's true!"

"You know I don't like it when you talk like that!" He'd turn to me with a stern tone. "I don't regret anything that happened between us, okay? Not one single bit." There was a heavy silence as his words would hang in the air. "If you wouldn't have asked me to dance, then who knows if I ever would've worked up the courage to kiss you? And I wouldn't be here, sharing this bed with the love of my life."

"Aw, Yoongi..."

And the two of us would make love, again and again until we'd have a similar argument some time later and repeat the whole process all over again. I'd feel guilty, Yoongi would remind me of exactly how much he doesn't regret meeting me, and we'd get lost in each other's embrace.

That is, until a simple Sunday morning suddenly changed everything.

"I got it."

I casually peered over at the sound of him from my spot in the living room, sitting criss crossed on the couch in my pajamas with a laptop in my lap. "What?"

"The job." Yoongi's voice was low, serious as he stared at the paper in his hands that had previously been so carelessly disregarded on the kitchen island along with the Sunday paper. "At the university in Seoul."

"Wait." He had all of my attention now as I sat the laptop on the coffee table and rose to my feet. "Like the Seoul National University university?"

"Yeah," he let out a single chuckle of disbelief before he pressed the paper against the counter and turned to me. "I got the job."

"Oh my god, Yoongi!" I exclaimed with my own chuckle of disbelief before running forward and wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms immediately engulfed my waist and lifted me off the ground as we spun around in place, my lips instantly finding his in a searing kiss that was full of passion and excitement to match our current mood. "That's amazing!"

"I know," he replied as he placed me down. A tentative smile was frozen on his lips as he stared off into the distance before letting out another sound of disbelief, his head shaking before his palm slid down his face. "I can't believe it!"

"I'm so proud of you!" I mirrored the grin of pure elation on his features, my chest swelling with joy and relief and most of all, pride.

I was so, so proud of Yoongi. I knew how much his job meant to him, and the feeling of guilt that weighed down on me from knowing that I was the one who inadvertently took that away from him, that I was the one who inadvertently caused all this stress of job hunting was instantly lifted off my shoulders. I knew how much he wanted this. I knew how hard he had worked to get this job at such a prestigious school, and god damn it, I knew how much he deserved it. If Yoongi was anything, apart from being an amazing person and a wonderful lover, he was great at his job. He was a natural born teacher.

Though no matter how many times I've willingly showered him with endless compliments about his work, he'd blush sheepishly and simply swat away all of my words with a simple kiss, or an "if you don't shut up your food is going to get cold. We're unemployed now; we need all the nutrition we can get. Haven't you ever heard of the Great Depression?"

So instead, I just chose to beam at him while he basked in the euphoria of the moment that this job acceptance brought on. After all, I knew he was well aware of how proud of him I was and how supportive I'd always be when it came to anything he wanted to accomplish.

Though the bliss was short lived.

I watched as Yoongi's expression slowly fell, the smile on his face slipping into a deep frown and his eyes turning to stone. "No."

"What?" I furrowed my brows, concern filling me and etching onto my features as I cupped his cheek in my hand, trying to figure out why his mood had changed so suddenly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not taking it." His tone was cold, definitive, as if the subject wasn't even up for debate as he grabbed the letter.

"Wait wait wait," I hurried to stop him from tearing it in half. "What are you talking about? Why not?"

He turned to look at me with cold, incredulous eyes, as if he couldn't believe I was even asking a question so stupid. "The university is in Seoul, Y/N."

"Okay...?" I shook my head in confusion, still not understanding what the issue was. "And?"

"I'd have to move." He was taking the paper back out of my hands and ripping it right down the middle before I got the chance to stop him.

I suddenly deflated, the severity of his words dropping in my stomach and wrapping around the anchor of my heart, sending it down, down, down through the floor of his apartment and hurdling towards the center of the earth.

"...What?"

"I'd have to move away from you."

And there is was, the bomb detonating an explosion and demolishing whatever was left of my heart.

"No... t–there has to be another way, there has to–"

"Seoul is hours away from here, Y/N," Yoongi barked out, his tone angry and harsh as it always was when he was upset. "It's on the other side of the country; there's no way I'd be able to commute without living there."

"Okay, so why did you apply then?" I couldn't help but snap back defensively. "You knew the distance to Seoul prior to applying for the job. Why even bother if you're just going to get pissed about not taking it?!"

"Because I didn't think I'd get accepted!" His voice was loud, almost yelling now. "It's the most sought after, prestigious school in the fucking country and I didn't think some young idiot who got fired from his last job would be able to get in!"

It was silent as his words settled over the atmosphere, clinging to the air that filled the room around us and encasing my lungs until it was impossible to breathe.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I finally hissed. "You're a great teacher, and you know it. If anyone's a young idiot here, it's me!"

Yoongi scoffed with a shake of his head. "I'm the one who kissed you again during that tutoring session after telling you to stay away. I'm the one who fucked you against that desk." His tone was low now, and his eyes seemed to grow harder in realization with each step that he took towards me. "I'm the one who asked to take you out on that fucking date and I'm the one who pulled you onto my lap when Sara caught us in my classroom! God damn it, I'm the one who tracked you down at a fucking frat party and punched one of my students!"

His voice slowly raised until he was yelling again, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was now standing chest to chest and cornering me up against the countertop of the island, I would've winced at the loud volume so close to my ears.

"Stop blaming yourself, Y/N, when I'm the one who was the authority figure. I'm the one who should've had my shit together, but I just couldn't around you!"

I felt myself soften at that. As angry and intimidating as he seemed right now, surely frightening whoever would come into contact with him when he was like this, I knew that it was all a front. Yoongi wasn't the best at dealing with emotional situations—he'd all but bite my head off any time I even tried to mention his father—and sometimes lashed out in anger when he was upset or hurting inside. I knew how badly he wanted this job; I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice when he'd first submitted the application. And now, when the career position of his dreams was finally right under his nose, he couldn't have it. Because I was holding him back.

"You have to take it." My voice was solemn and steady as I stared him in the eyes.

He instantly frowned. "What? No, I–"

"Yoongi."

He fell silent, all signs of anger and malice wiped from his features once he saw just how serious I was being. A soft, bittersweet smile that had nothing to do with happiness slowly tugged at my lips as my eyes gleamed with pain. My heart was breaking with every word I was speaking, but I knew it was something I needed to do.

"You have to take the job."

The silence that ensued my words only further proved my point, simultaneously stabbing a knife into my chest with each passing second. He knew I was right. He knew it. He just didn't want to hear it.

"You don't..." He sounded smaller, more pitiful and confused as he tried to make sense of what I was saying. "You don't want me to stay?"

The hurt, the sadness, the utter hopelessness in his voice absolutely crushed me. I couldn't help but fall into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his chest and squeezing tightly as if I could somehow hold the pieces of him together that I knew were breaking. The severity of what was happening, of what I was doing started to settle within me the moment I heard his voice break.

"I do, baby," I replied, the sound muffled by the skin of his neck that my face was buried in as a sob threatened to claw its way out of my throat and swallow me whole. "God, you know I do. But you can't."

"Y–you can come with me." He was shaking his head now, his hands gripping at the shirt on my back with closed fists while he desperately tried to hold onto me, as if I would disappear beneath him at any moment. "We can move together to Seoul and you can–"

"You know I can't, Yoongi." It was my turn to shake my head, and with it came a heavy tear that fell down my cheek. "I have to go to school. I have a family who's helping pay for my tuition, and my mom— you know it's not all up to me."

I heard him sniffle as he pulled away, and even though I felt no evidence of tears from him against my skin or my shirt, his eyes were bright red when he stared back at me.

"I'm not leaving you, Y/N."

The sheer determination in his voice had me shattering like broken glass. "I'm not letting you do this, Yoongi. I'm not letting you waste this opportunity. Do you know how many people are waiting to work at Seoul University? How many professors would kill to be in your position?" I kept my gaze steadily on his as I slowly shook my head. "I care about you... so fucking much. I've never loved someone so much before... not like this." I paused, asking myself one last time if this was really the decision I wanted to make as my words settled in. I took in the sight of his beautiful, breathtaking features silently begging me not to do this. "I'm putting you above my selfishness," I finally decided with another shake of my head. "You need to do this Yoongi, for you. You know you do."

Yoongi slowly shook his head, though the expression on his face told me he knew I was right. "I don't want to lose you," he spoke as a tear spilled over the brim of his eye, dampening his lashes and leaving a wet streak in its wake as it rolled down his cheek, and the sight was the final breaking point that had me bursting into tears.

"Neither do I."

His fingers dug into my skin as he tightened his grip on my body, his forehead leaning against mine as the only sounds exchanged between the two of us were the unspoken words of labored breaths and soft sobs.

Sometimes when you love someone, you have to do what's best for them.

And I knew this was what's best for Yoongi.

[johnkrrasinski]

dwindling, mercurial high

full masterlist

Pairings: Andy Barber x female!reader 

Word count: 2,733

Warning: SMUT!!! infidelity/cheating, age gap, unprotected sex, dirty talk, angst, lots of angst. (MUST BE 18+) 

Summary: based on the song ‘illicit affairs’ by taylor swift. things changed between you and andy, the man you’d been crushing on for the longest time, after you returned home from college. what was born from a single glance & stolen stares turned into a secret addiction, something neither of you could get sober from. 

a/n: the idea piqued my imagination after watching taylor’s folklore long pond studio session and i wondered what it’d be like to be the third person instead of the cheated one, thus this angsty fic was born. reblog & feedback are always appreciated. 

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You closed your eyes as your back hit the wall repeatedly, you held onto him as tight as possible as you moaned in his ear. The bristle of his beard tickled your neck as he nipped your sensitive spot, causing your head to spin. The coil in your abdomen tightened, so did your legs around his waist, and you clenched around him, pushing him to thrust harder into you, chasing your orgasms. Your wailings grew louder and you cried out his name like prayer as his pace become sloppier.

Time became hazy as you plummeted into bliss while he continued to impale you, prolonging your release as well. You wanted the moment to last as long as possible as you presented your body as a vessel for him to obtain pleasure, the kind that he couldn’t get at home from his lovely wife. You didn’t mind that it took him longer to reach his peak, the comforting feeling of him being inside you was like cozying up to your favourite knit sweater and a cup of hot chocolate whilst it was raining outside.

But rains don’t last forever, and the sun was always around the corner, lurking to appear and scorch the planet once more, waking everyone up out of their comfortable place. And that’s what it was like being with Andy.

He groaned as he released deep inside you, resting his face on your shoulder while trying to catch his breath. He kissed you on the lips, claiming your mouth as you ran your fingers through his hair until he needed air. But you didn’t, because he was the air that you needed. Then he set you on your feet gently and he began putting on his clothes. “It’s stopped coming down, I should head back now, Laurie’s going to come home soon and I told her that I’d be working from home today. It’d be suspicious if I left the house without telling her.”

You nodded, “…okay.” But it wasn’t okay, how much longer were you going to have these clandestine meetings? How could you tell him that you wanted him to stay and hold you close just for once?

He slipped his feet into his shoes and untied the lace. You leaned on your hands against your study desk and watched his flushed state longingly as if you were trying to speak with your gaze and you wanted him to get the message because words would hurt both of you. He put on his coat and swung the hood over his head then stood before you, “are you okay, kid?”

No, how could you even ask me that? “Yeah.” He always asked the same question after every time you both made love but never once did you tell him the truth and he believed you. He kissed you on the forehead and there he goes, leaving you with your tears and fury once more without a single weight in his heart.

How did you end up here? It began last summer after you came back home from college. You were going to work in your father’s law firm once you finished law school and obtained your degree. Your father was a lawyer and had a good friendship with the Barbers since you were little. You even watched Jacob being born when Laurie went into labour. Besides living across from each other and worked in the same field, you were like a big sister to Jacob too. He was always a shy, introverted kid who didn’t make friends easily so Andy truly cherished your companion for his son.

You were always happy being a big sister figure to Jacob, you were both the only children so it was easy to bond over that. But what you’d never admit out loud, was also the fact that yous secretly had a crush on Jacob’s dad. What’s not to swoon over? Andy was extremely good looking, a good father and a loving husband. He was a top lawyer, courteous, soft-spoken and always treated you kindly whenever you came over.

It affected your dating life in high school because, despite all the boys asking you out, you never said yes to them. Because there was only one man that you wanted and you couldn’t have him. Even in college, you tried to forget him and seek for someone else, but even college boys couldn’t live up to Andy.

Three years went by and you finally returned home and were ready to start your career as a lawyer. Law and crimes always fascinated you because you believed that justice wasn’t as simple as black or white, or the good guy versus the bad guy so it came naturally for you to follow your father’s footsteps.

Your father invited the Barbers over for dinner to celebrate your homecoming. Laurie asked you about the college life and teased if you might’ve had dated a few boys and you nervously refuted the question by telling her that you were too busy with studying. Andy sat across you and you tried so hard not to make eye contact with him but you couldn’t fight the urge and you swore you saw him glance at you once or twice and he’d quickly look away once you caught him.

One afternoon, a couple of days after the dinner, when your father was at the court, and your mother was at her boutique, you decided to come over to the Barbers’ house. Jacob texted you earlier about his Physics homework and asked for your help on doing it. You were going to start working at the firm on Monday so you had plenty of spare time at home, doing whatever you wished for. You were bored, you had been reading books and watching Netflix all day so you decided to spend time helping Jacob with his homework.

You knocked on the door and texted him, “I’m outside.” You were a little early than the agreed time so Andy opened the door instead of the person you expected.

“Mr. Barber, hi! Is Jacob home yet?” You tried your best to keep your composure.

“No, he said he was staying for Math. He didn’t tell you?”

“Uh, he must’ve forgotten. He asked me earlier to help him with his homework and I thought I could come by early to hang out, but it’s fine, I’ll just come back later. Thanks, Mr. Barber.”

“You could come inside and wait for Jacob here if you want?” He offered.

“Um, are you sure, Mr. Barber? I don’t wanna be a bother.”

“No, please, Laurie hasn’t come home yet, and I’d appreciate the company. And just call me Andy.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. I’ve got no one to talk to at home yet, anyway. Except for my cat who only comes to me when she’s hungry.”

He chuckled at the joke as he closed the door behind you. “You want anything to drink?”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you Mr. Barber.”

He gave you a look at the nickname. “Sorry, I meant, Andy.”

“You’ve really grown since the last time I saw you, ____. You’ve even gotten good-looking.” He nonchalantly said whilst he was making your coffee. “Milk?”

“Huh?” your heart was beating fast at his flattering words. “Do you want some milk in your coffee?”

“Yes, please.” You gulped, mentally screaming at yourself to keep it together. “Are you saying that I was an ugly duckling, Andy?”

He chuckled, “no, what I meant was, your appearance definitely changed and I like it.” He served the coffee on the dining table where he laid a bunch of papers and a laptop and you tried to maintain your distance despite every cell in your body was begging for you to sit closer to him.

You hoped he couldn’t hear the way your breath hitched so you drank your coffee with shaky hands. He asked you about college or shared some advice in becoming a young lawyer. He also caught you up with stories that you missed while you were away. How he found out Jacob was bullied by this kid in his school and how he and Laurie had been arguing a lot lately.

“I’m sorry about that, Andy. But you two will work it out, what marriage doesn’t have its disputes, right? If you both had made it this far, I’m sure you can make it for many more years.”

“Thanks, ____. Be sure to keep that in mind if a guy starts a quarrel with you, okay?” He sipped his own coffee.

“I’ll have to find a guy first, I guess.”

“Are you not seeing anyone?” He gave you a quizzical look.

“No, just haven’t found the time, I guess.”

“Oh, c’mon. You’re an intelligent and attractive young woman. You should go out and explore.”

“And what if I couldn’t find one that I want, Andy?” You stirred your coffee, unable to look him in the eye.

“What do you want, ____?” He inched his face closer to you, making it hard to breathe. His ocean blue eyes bored into yours, with the kind of look that you never saw before. In this proximity, you could see how his pupils had dilated, filling the rim with darkness lust. And you didn’t question his intentions or what he was thinking but at that moment, you had never wanted him more. And you needed him. You needed him to grant your heart’s greatest desire. Him.

“You,” you voice was barely a whisper. “I want… You.”

“Say it, say it louder.”

“I want you, Andy. I’ve wanted you forever.”

Then as if the time had frozen, he slammed his lips onto yours, nearly causing your chair to fall back if only he didn’t catch you. Andy grabbed your face and kissed you with a burning passion. You shut your eyes, reeling from the swirling emotions in your stomach. It wasn’t butterflies but the whole damn zoo. Andy licked your bottom lip and you parted your mouth for him, allowing his tongue to enter and tangle itself with yours.

You whimpered and you felt Andy smirked at the way your body reacted to him. Andy then stood up and lifted you onto the table, and he slightly pulled your hair back, exposing your neck to him. He began trailing kisses there and his right hand roamed around your body until it reached the hem of your off-the-shoulder top and it travelled to your breast and he toyed with it, pinching the nipple and fondle with the globe.

“Andy…” taking your whimpers as a green light, he moved his hand down to the zipper of your jeans, fumbled with the buttons and he pulled them down just enough for his hand to caress your womanhood. Blood rushed to your cheeks when he felt your arousal. He shoved the G-string aside, allowing his fingers to stroke you.

“If I knew how much you wanted me, I would’ve made a move sooner, baby.”

The coalescence of his voice, his plump lips and his hands touching you all over nearly made you forgot where you were until the act was interrupted by Jacob’s voice from the door, “Dad, I’m home!” Andy quickly stopped his assault on you and let you go. You stood on shaky legs as you tried to smooth over your rumpled top and zip up your jeans.

Luckily, when Jacob found you both in the kitchen, he didn’t suspect anything and you followed him to his room, walking away from Andy as if nothing even happened. And that was the beginning of your doomed affair.

His infidelity carried on for months and none of you had found the strength to break it off. You knew it was wrong in so many ways. You always considered The Barbers as your second family despite your latent feelings for Andy. You’d be letting down so many people if they found out about this affair. Each time you both ran off to find escapism in a secluded place, you were consumed by guilt. Every time you told yourself that you can always stop, that he can always stop, you were choked with words. The desire has rooted itself way too deep and none of you could go back now.

It started in your room and once he’d grown weary of the atmosphere, he’d take you to a motel a little outside of town where nobody really knew who you were and it has now taken you to an empty parking lot. Andy laid on the reclined shotgun seat with his clothes off and his pants around his ankles. You leaned your hand on the window as his cock stretched you open from under.

He loved the way your breasts jiggled with each thrust. You had your shirt lifted just enough to display your breasts for him while your shorts and underwear were thrown off to the backseat. His cock was hitting your G-spot repeatedly, creating tantalizing friction. You writhed above him, screaming his name as loud as you possibly could with your mind disarrayed from his thrusts. He had both of his hands gripping your hips solidly, controlling your move as you rode him.

“After all the time I’ve fucked you, you’re still so tight,” He groaned. He moved one of his hands to breast, pinching the nipple and you mewled from the pleasurable sting. He slid his hand up to your throat, cutting off your airway, suffocating you. Your whimpers your muted but it didn’t stop you from moving up and down on him. His other hand slid under your body, he toyed with your wetness and rubbed your clit, causing you to clench around him. “You gonna cum all over my fat cock, baby?”

His filthy words never failed to arouse you. If anyone had told fifteen years old you that the man you had such admired and respect, though from afar, had a foul mouth during sex, you would’ve told them to piss off because they had no idea what the hell were they talking about, but now you had an explicit, front-row seat view of it, you couldn’t look at him any other way.

The way his cock rutted into you and the way his digits worked you over and over again, while his massive hand made you struggle for air, sent your body into overdrive and you cried out his name as if it was your salvation. Your brain was clouded with ecstasy as he continued to ram into you, chasing his own release.

You lost the power to straddle him and collapsed on top of him. Andy’s hands travelled back into your hips, locking you in place as you were pliable with your prolonged orgasm. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, baby.”

Then Andy emptied his seed into you, filling you up with his load, and he groaned out loud in your ear. You both tried to abate your breathing while he was still sheathed inside you. The closeness felt intimate and comforting and somehow it felt like you were committing treachery. Your limbs were intertwined and you didn’t wanna untangle yourself from him because you knew if you did, he’d drive you home and take the less travelled by road and that would be it.

There was no post-sex cuddling or aftercare. There was no murmuring soft words under a duvet and exchanging tender kisses while basking in the afterglow with him. Because that’s all this was, an illicit affair. All there was after a steamy rendezvous were quick showers to wash off traces of each other as if you didn’t even exist and a spontaneously fabricated tale so the other person wouldn’t know where the other one had truly been.

You wanted to throw things at him and scream, don’t you fucking call me kid or baby, I’m neither of those things. You wanted to hate him for the godforsaken mess he’d turned you into, but you couldn’t. Because he had shown you colours you couldn’t see with anyone else and you couldn’t erase the secret language he taught you from your mind despite the idiotic fool that he made you.

And no matter how many times you witnessed him kissing his wife like a loving spouse would and how long he made you wait for a call, you knew damn well that you’d do it all over again for him in a heartbeat.

[pinkpastels113]

Talk Numbers To Me

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,326

Pairing: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell

Summary: In which Chloe gets help from her mathematical genius.

End B/C. One-Shot. Fluff. Tumblr prompt.

Read on ao3 or ff.net or below.

Prompt from anon; hope you all like.

Chloe shuffles her papers, kicking her feet in frustration at the numbers swirling in her head. Her hand flies to her hair, the pencil tangling in its strands.

“You okay there, Chloe?”

She looks up, sees Stacie blink questioningly at her from the microwave, and gives a tentative smile. “Yeah, just...” she sighs. “Homework.”

Stacie nods, retrieving her dinner burritos and closing the microwave door. “Do you need help?”

Chloe bites her lip and looks back down at the sheets of homework staring back at her from the kitchen table, its once clean blank lines now covered in blurry grey smudges. She doesn’t want to be of any inconvenience. “Nah, I’ll be okay. Thank you though, Stacie.”

“Are you sure?” Stacie grabs for a napkin before making her way over, “Because if it’s science, I can definitely help you out.”

Chloe carefully detangles her pencil from her pounding head, laying it back down onto the wooden surface. It’s not science, but something in Stacie’s tone of voice has her intrigued. “Oh?”

Stacie pulls out a chair, sits. She sets her styrofoam plate down onto an area not littered by mountains of paperwork and reaches for the one directly in front of Chloe. “Yup. I double major in Chemistry and Biomedical engineering. Which pretty much covers all the sciences that you could possibly take in your second senior year.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows, impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know that you double major, Stace. That’s amazing.”

Her fellow Bella just shrugs, eyes quickly scanning the page. “Eh, it’s alright. I love science anyways so it’s no big deal.” She then pauses, presumably figuring out that the subject of Chloe’s dilemma is most definitely not the one of which she is an expert in. “Oh, this is math.”

Chloe groans just at the mention of the word, tilting her head back to the fluorescent light of the kitchen ceiling. “Yeah, math. The worst form of torture in the entire world.”

Stacie just chuckles, shaking her head, “Only to people who don’t understand it.” She then stands, clutching Chloe’s topic of frustration between a thumb and forefinger. “I would love to help you out, Chloe, but I think someone else may be better at explaining this for you. She is a math genius after all.”

Chloe gets out of her chair as well, brows furrowing curiously as she trails behind the tall brunette, only then realizing that they are making their way to the living room, where the sounds of the tv can be heard, signalling the presence of the rest of the Bellas. “Someone else? Who else could be better at math than a Biomedical engineer?”

“Someone who actually studies it.”

And before Chloe could even ponder over which Bella would possibly want to subject themselves to the torture that is freaking mathematics, they have reached the entrance of the living room, and Stacie has called out the answer.

“Hey, Beca!”

What?

Chloe gapes, completely taken aback as she watches the unrequited love of her life look up from the screen of her phone at the mention of her name. “Yeah?”

Stacie waves the paper in her hand even as she continues to stalk forward. “Chloe needs your help with some math. I said that I would, but I just figured that a double math and physics major such as yourself would be a much better and viable option.”

Understandably, Chloe is not the only one in the room to have no previous knowledge of this news, or the only one to be completely shocked by it. Fat Amy turns away from the tv to quirk a disbelieving brow. “Double major? Shawshank? Math and Physics ?”

Chloe couldn’t help but agree. She knows that it’s wrong and impolite to underestimate a person’s abilities on what he or she could or not do, especially when said abilities are in academics—after all, they are all still in college—but Beca ? One of her best friends in the whole wide world, not to mention her secret crush/obsession/favorite person/love of her life and possibly all the lives she could possibly have hereafter—if she believes in that kind of stuff, which she kind of does, especially if it pertains to a possibility of her getting together with said love in one of those lives in the far future—with whom she had been pining for—especially at the times where it had been particularly difficult and tiresome—seemingly since the beginning of time? Beca, who would always tend to blow off school until the very last minute; Beca, who would rather spend time fiddling with her music in her room all by herself with just her and her headphones rather than indulge in books or people or anything not involving of her mixing board unless someone—usually Chloe—had to physically drag her away from the screen of her computer to go hang out? Beca?

Shouldn’t she have known everything there is to know about Beca in all these years—albeit technically that only includes two, but sometimes she really just feels like they have known each other since they were kids—that they’ve been friends? Teammates? Roommates? Family?

Beca rolls her eyes, stretching her arms in front of her chest to pull her body into a proper sitting position on the side of the couch. She locks and tosses aside her phone. “Yeah, I couldn’t decide which one to pick so I just decided to go for both. You guys didn’t know?”

Chloe finally finds it within herself to blurt out something that does not include her incredulity of the small brunette being capable of taking the most ruthless and tedious majors that there could possibly be in all the majors one could take at Barden University, “No, Beca, we didn’t.”

Jessica, Ashley, Flo, and Cynthia Rose collectively shake their heads in agreement.

Lilly just blinks, and Fat Amy’s lone brow stays exactly where it is.

Stacie snorts, Chloe’s paper dangling casually between two perfectly manicured nails against her side as she crosses her arms, shifting her weight onto one foot, “Figures. I suppose you all didn’t know that I am a double major too, did you?”

Six of the Bellas’ attention spotlight on the slightly indignant brunette, gasps and shouts of surprise and amazement instantly tossed into the air, Stacie’s explanation of the functionality of Biomedical Engineering immediately a follow up, but Chloe barely notices, because she is too busy having a silent exchange with her co-captain still situated on the couch.

She widens her eyes. Is this true? Are you being serious?

Beca nods, smirks. Hell yeah I am.

Chloe tilts her head, pouts. Why didn’t you tell me?

Beca shrugs. Didn’t find a reason to. She then rubs the back of her neck, looking suddenly sheepish and uncomfortable. And it’s not like it’s a big deal.

Chloe frowns, shakes her hands about. It is a big deal to me ! She then gestures between the pair of them. We’re friends, Becs, we are supposed to tell each other these kinds of things!

Beca tips her chin to the front of her chest, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and then peers at her shyly through her lashes. Sorry, Chlo.

Chloe’s heart melts, her feet immediately carrying her forward, and she lowers herself onto the couch cushions next to Beca, taking extensive care to not sit on her phone. She offers a soft and forgiving smile, before pulling her best friend swiftly into a hug. Don’t be sorry, Beca. She presses a kiss to her cheek. It’s okay.

Beca’s body relaxes, and somehow Chloe understands that the small brunette is relieved of the fact that Chloe is not mad or judgemental or flighty about how she is a double major in both math and physics. Chloe wonders if that is the reason why Beca hadn’t told her—that she had been afraid of her reaction—and if that is the reason why she had put on a brave face in front of the Bellas.

Beca always pretends like everything is fine and ineffective to her well being when she feels extremely self-conscious. She likes to put on a hard shell and proclaim the attitude of a “badass” to balm over her real emotions, to put on a show of I don’t care and whatever to mask over the I do care and I do feel.

Chloe gets the feeling that if it hadn’t been for Stacie—who’d most likely just stumbled across the discovery by accident—none of them would have known, until possibly graduation, when someone questioningly points out the lettering of her certificate, the duality of her degree.

Beca is bashful, self-conscious, secretive , of her abilities and status as a mathematical genius.

Chloe puts her lips to Beca’s ear. “Help me with my homework, please.”

She feels her best friend shiver, pull away, her beautiful stormy blues shy and reluctant as they flit across Chloe’s face, search between her eyes, and Chloe just sits and stays and waits until she says yes.

“Okay.”

Chloe beams, her arms unconsciously going around to surround Beca’s back for another embrace before she pulls away, and she stands up and makes her way over to Stacie, a bounce in her step as she taps the tall brunette—who’s now making fun of herself for being the “hot one” of the group—on the shoulder to get her attention, smiling gratefully when she turns and notices and hands her paper over.

“Thanks, Stace,” she says, winking to signal the double sentiment of her gratitude for both the help and the revelation of the information, grinning widely as Stacie comprehends and nods.

Hazel greens flash quickly and meaningfully to the slight brunette in the room, “Anytime.”

Chloe lets her return to her conversation with the rest of the Bellas, spinning around to purse her lips questioningly to ask Beca where it is that she wants to go.

My room.

Chloe leads the way, making a brisk detour to the kitchen to gather up her things, and she speeds up the stairs and skips down the hall, letting herself into the double bedded bedroom Beca currently shares with Amy.

“So why’d you choose math?” She decides between the bed and the desk chair, going for the bed.

Beca takes the chair. “I dunno,” she shrugs, “Just wanted to, I guess.”

Chloe sets the papers down onto the bedding, and makes herself comfortable. “You must really enjoy it for it to be a half of your double major, Becs.”

Beca gives a noncommittal hum, crossing her legs and wiping her hands onto the dark denim.

“And what about Physics? Any reason why you wanted to study that as well?”

“Oh,” Beca glances to her mixing board, “That’s just for sound engineering. It really makes it easier to find and test out the best places for a good mashup, and it’s really just useful for the recording and production of music.”

Chloe makes a small noise of understanding, following her line of sight briefly before going for the subject catalysing the shocking news of that evening. She picks up the first sheet of her homework, smoothing it out before offering it enthusiastically forwards, “So, math genius, you wanna let me know how it’s done?”

Beca grins, one hand caught between her thighs modestly as the other one reaches for the paper, “Sure, Beale. Good to know that you’re actually in need of my help for something.”

Chloe pushes back her hair, blinking at her in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Beca hides her face behind the frustrating sheet of paper, “Nothing. Just that you always seem to know exactly what you’re doing. Everybody always seems to go to you for help, never the other way around.”

Chloe’s heart flutters in her chest, and she has to push it down before it can go all swoony over the likely unintentional romantic admission. Later. “I don’t always seem to know exactly what I’m doing, Beca. I usually just wing it, and hope for the best.” At Beca’s disbelieving but playful scoff, she leans forward to bend over the top half of her paper, revealing Beca’s face, “And I’m here now, aren’t I? Math has always been a subject that I can absolutely not deal with.”

Beca rolls the tip of her tongue over the fronts of her teeth, “Only cuz nobody but nerds like me actually gets it. Still doesn’t establish the fact that you’re no less amazing and brilliant at everything else you do.”

If Beca had been Chloe’s girlfriend—if she had been dreaming that she is—Chloe would have lunged forward and kissed her senseless.

Settling for biting her lower lip anxiously to withhold the urge, Chloe gestures to the paper in her hands. “Well? Do you know how to do this?”

Beca looks like she’s just been snapped out of a daze. “Oh yeah, totally.” She spins around in her chair to reach for her bag, unzipping it and pulling out a tiny whiteboard from the utmost layer, as well as an Expo marker. “It’s kinda easy, actually. I can explain it.”

Chloe giggles at the materials in her hands as Beca turns back around. “Aw, that’s so cute!”

Beca glares, laying the whiteboard on one side of her lap and the paper in the other. “Shut up. It’s just convenient.”

Chloe mimes zipping and locking her lips and throwing away the key, but the smile on her face is irreplaceable.

Beca nudges open the cap of the Expo, letting it drop softly onto the floor at her feet as she rereads the question. “So, it says that this Marco dude needs to figure out where his stupid ball is gonna land if he throws it over the top of a building, so we have to make a graph.”

Chloe laughs, already comfortable with the familiar way Beca seems to make any situation less intimidating, “Do you talk to yourself like that when you do your own math?”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Chloe lays a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her amusement. “Carry on.”

Beca shakes her head, apparently having gotten very invested in her knowledge of math despite being self-conscious of it, “Jesus, Chlo. Anyways,” she brings the tip of the marker onto the whiteboard to draw two perpendicular lines, “Here’s the graph—” she draws a rectangle to represent the aforementioned building, along with a dot at the y-intercept, “—and here’s our dude.”

“Ooh, can we write down Marco,” Chloe interrupts, bouncing in her seat and pointing to the blank and boring dot.

Beca gives her a look, before sarcastically heeding her request. Five letters were squished against the side of the y-axis with an adorable arrow, “There. Happy?”

Chloe blows her a kiss, “Very.”

Beca sighs, dramatically, before continuing on, “So as I was saying, there’s Marco, and his ball is—” she scribbles down a number next to the side, “Thrown from this height, and we need to figure out—” she dashes a parabolic line towards the situational ground, “Where this —” she makes another dot, labelling it “splat”—much to Chloe’s delight— on the x-axis, “Is.”

Chloe nods vigorously, chin in her hands as she shifts closer to the edge of the bed, her butt just barely situated on the mattress now as she leans closer for a better look, “Yeah, totes.”

Beca doesn’t seem to notice her new proximity, on a roll now that she has gotten started, “And they have given you the formula so now, considering the fact that gravity is a thing and negative distances are not—” she copies down the formula and writes down what the variables represent for her right under, “You just have to plug all this shit in to get the answer.”

“Ohh,” Chloe says, getting it, but it falls on deaf ears as Beca seems to automatically plug in the figures for her, crossing out variables and scribbling down altercations as she goes along, and Chloe’s jaw drops, as seconds later, she has come to a conclusion.

Beca scribbles down “20 feet” and circles it victoriously, a small but satisfactory “Aha” escaping her lips as she holds the whiteboard up to the light. “There, I got it.”

A sudden wave of heat pools low in her belly, and Chloe gasps as she tries to make sense of the unexpected spike of arousal at the sight of the wide and unrestrained and confident grin painting across Beca’s lips, at the sight of the happiness and satisfaction sparkling within stormy blues, and at the sight of the pink and musically talented tongue clenched between Beca’s teeth, as if used as an anchor to her excitement of getting another math problem right.

Holy heck, Beca Mitchell is hot when she does math.

Chloe must have made a distracting sound, because Beca suddenly jolts, as if just then realizing that she is not alone, pink flushing into her cheeks as she lowers the whiteboard, her uncontainable grin fading into a sheepish smile, and she meekly hands the answer over.

“Sorry,” she says, fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair, eyes downcast to her feet as she watches them scuffle nervously against the floor, “I just got so excited. I don’t know what came over me, Chlo, I—” she visibly swallows, “I hadn’t meant to just finish your problem for you.”

Screw it. It doesn’t freaking matter that Beca is not her girlfriend.

Chloe pushes the whiteboard aside and grasps the arms of Beca’s chair, yanking it and the person in it towards her waiting mouth, and she kisses her best friend/secret crush/obsession/favorite person/love of her life/mathematical genius square on the lips with as much fervor—if not more—as the moment previous in which she had desired to dole out when Beca had inadvertently complimented her as an amazing and capable and kind individual in and of itself, and she groans, her feet spreading to accommodate the chair between her legs and her brain kicking into overdrive to accommodate the gasp fluttering into her mouth.

Beca freezes, her eyes still presumably wide open as Chloe nips against her lips, and Chloe is just about to pull away and chart the situation up to another uncontrollable heat of the moment when she feels the small brunette reciprocate, arms wrapping around her neck and lips pressing closer, and Chloe slides her hands down from the arms of the chair to tuck between the cushion of the seat and Beca’s thighs, lifting her up and into the air before prompting dumping her in her lap, and she giggles as Beca huffs at the ease of which she has completed the action.

“Show off,” Beca grumbles, her minty breath a mournful absence as she pulls her mouth away to kiss the angle of Chloe’s jaw, “This is exactly what I had meant.”

Chloe tilts her head to allow Beca more access, “Coming from the person who had just figured out the answer to my mathematical problem in just a number of seconds, I think you are being irrational, Beca.”

Beca laughs, her nose nuzzling into the side of her neck affectionately at the pun, and Chloe’s heart pounds, her fingers immediately going to scramble her papers off the bed and her body further onto it. “That literally calculates up to zero creativity, Chlo.”

“Whatever,” she says, adjusting herself amongst the blue sheets and rectangular pillows, “I’m not a mathematical nerd, unlike someone I know.”

“Mm,” Beca reconnects their lips, her fingers playing the ends of Chloe’s hair, “Speaking of, are we gonna finish your homework?”

“Later,” Chloe tugs at their clothes, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of Beca’s wide and unrestrained smile, “We can do it later. Right now I just want my hot and secretive mathematical genius to talk numbers to me.”

---

I rushed through this in the span of four hours (not nearly long enough for me to make grammatical and detailing errors) so I hope you all enjoyed it despite my laziness :P

Also, if you’re the anon who gave me this prompt, I hope I did you justice, and that I hope you liked it despite any intentions that you had initially had at the suggestion of this prompt (I know I did, but oh well, what’s done is done, and I’m honestly just happy that I am finished lol).

Let me know what you all think! :))

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt. 6

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: language, eventual smut, heated kissing, minor groping, a wee bit of angst 

A/N: sorry this one was late... like all the others. but hey you can’t blame me for trying lmao

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

—UNEDITED

Your head began to spin as your eyes dropped to the text sent to you, the number attached to a name that you least expected. You would never admit to how fast your heart pulsed in your chest as you skimmed the words over and over. Had Jisung said anything to her about what happened?

Was she upset with you for sending her precious boyfriend into a panic attack?

Maybe you were walking straight into a bear trap but you couldn’t bring yourself to decline or ignore her message. The guilt of hurting Jisung was too fresh, so you had a hard time doing anything against him—and in a way, ignoring Hyunae’s messages was just that. You just hoped it wasn’t an elaborate set up where she jumped you and scratched your throat out with her excessively polished fingernails. But even if she did, it was pretty fair to say that you deserved it. 

So after your first class, you were able to hop on the bus for a quick trip to Haven, the thought of your next class lodged in the back of your mind. After the incident in Minho’s apartment, you hadn’t stepped a foot back inside. Granted it had only been twelve hours at the most, but it felt like days when it seemed like everyone was mad at you. Word of what happened traveled fast, and despite no one in your group of friends asking you about it specifically, you knew that they knew. You suspected that Changbin was the culprit, but you really couldn’t blame him. He didn’t exactly know the extent of the situation. 

But it was hard when even Felix seemed hesitant to talk to you. 

Chan was still there to text you every hour, even after you explained most of the situation to him. But he remained understanding and sweet. 

As he was all the time.

When you walked into the diner, a burst of warmth enveloped you and your nose turned up at the scent of comfort food and coffee. It was nice, and eased some of the tension in your muscles. 

Hyunae sat along the inside booths where most of the diners traffic was, close enough to the door that you could run if you needed to. She had her eyes cast down on her phone and your arrival hadn’t been noticed—you could’ve turned around and left then and there, ending all of your messy doubts and fears for the day. But you couldn’t. Your feet continued forward without your consent, dragging you those last final inches to her table. 

With the new presence, she looked up.

Hyunae’s eyes widened for a second, darting over your form as if to double check that you were really there. 

“I kind of didn’t think you were going to come.” She exhaled a small laugh, motioning towards the other side of the table where a still hot cup of coffee sat. 

You took the cup in your cold hands, “Thanks…”

You didn’t know what to say—the ball was in her park and she was in control of where things headed. 

She sighed, leaning back against the booth, her pretty skin flushed with the nip of the air. “I’ll just cut to the chase… I wanted to apologize for what I did—for everything that I did. I’ve been a bitch for a while, and I only realized it now.”

With her avoiding eye contact, you could openly gape at her confession, because—what?

The Hyunae was apologizing to you?

“I don’t—I don’t really understand why you’re suddenly apologizing.” You said, voice hoarse. 

Hyunae tugged her sweater closer to her form, arms curling around her waist as someone else walked through the door, sending a blast of cold air through the diner. 

“You know, for being a complete bitch to you while Ji and I were dating. It was all a jealousy thing to be completely honest. I didn’t actually—”

You blinked, waving your hand out to stop her rambling. You weren’t sure that you could process the first half of her words, let alone the endless ramble that she was capable of spewing. 

“Are…” you swallowed. “Are you guys not together?”

She frowned, brows furrowed.

“Jisung broke up with me, Y/n. Did he not tell you?”

The scratch of a broken record echoed through your head as you nearly dropped the ceramic cup of coffee all over yourself. 

“What?”

She nodded slowly, “I thought you would be the first person he told, considering…”

“Considering what?”

Her briefness and dodging was only making you frustrated, your hand waving in front of her face to finally gain her eyes. You had no idea that Jisung broke up with her, and you had no idea why. Some part of you hoped that the reason had something to do with you, but you just pushed that load of feelings away. It wasn’t fair to think of such things while the girl who had recently been broken up with sat directly in front of you. 

You really were a god awful person. 

She laughed a little, her eyes taking in your complete disbelief. 

“Well I’ll be damned. You two really are perfect for each other, huh?”

Before you could ask exactly what that was supposed to mean, you watched as her cheeks flushed a bright red—this time not at the fault of the air. Again she laughed, all humor aside, and her hands lifted to her face as tears leaked from her eyes. 

“God,” she sniffed, frantically moving to wipe her face with her sleeve. “You both really suck.”

You leaned forward awkwardly, passing her a napkin from the holder with a small tilt of your head. “I’ve come to realize that recently.”

She gave you a look that read, “don’t agree with me” and it managed to pull a laugh from your own throat. Hyunae might’ve been a little bit of a bitch, but it wasn’t without reason. She was insecure and jealous and those two things are away at someone like a virus. It was almost impossible to not feel such things at your age.

You always forgot that you were barely out of high school, the years of petty emotions and fake relationships hadn’t quite yet been erased from your minds. You were all in the same boat.

Just trying to learn along the way. 

“You know what’s funny…” Hyunae smiled, her eyes wet. “I always kind of routed for you two. I didn’t really know it, but it was always in the back of my head.”

You felt your lip wobble, but you bit it down, clenching your jaw. There was no way in hell that you were going to cry. You weren’t going to do that—you had no reason to. Hyunae was the one who just lost her boyfriend, and she was the only one who was supposed to be sad. 

“Every time you and him were together it just looked so right. I don’t know…” She swiped her hair over her shoulder with a sigh. “I honestly couldn’t believe it when he asked me to be his girlfriend, I thought you two had been a thing for a while—” right, you nearly forgot about the time when Hyunae was simply a friend. “—but then he came bounding up with a goofy smile on his face and that was it. It was over.”

Hyunae and Jisung had some math class together back in high school, he didn’t tell you much about her, but you knew enough to think she was a decent person. Back in those days, Hyunae was much different; sporting a thick pair of glasses and dark hair. But still just as gorgeous, as everyone with two eyes could see. 

She followed Jisung around like a lost puppy, and even had to be shooed away by Minho a few times. You were just glad that she listened, since Minho’s temper had been much worse then. You didn’t remember the details but you did remember the day that Jisung jumped back to your house with a big smile and flushed cheeks. It was a time when you were still an angsty teenager and listened to terrible love songs when you were in emotional distress. So that news was a real punch in the face. 

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what else to say, she wasn’t exactly your friend, so you didn’t know how to take in and process the information that she just threw at you. 

Hyunae shook her head.

“Don’t be sorry. I had a feeling before that it was going to happen sooner or later. Who knew it was going to be so much later?”

You sent her a small smile. She wasn’t half bad when she wasn’t completely ignoring your existence and sending murderous glances your way. 

The waiter rounded up to your table—unfortunately, not Jeongin—and proceeded to ask you what you wanted to order. After Hyunae promised to pay for your meal as well, the two of you talked for what seemed to be hours. You didn’t talk about anything at all—going on about classes and professors that you couldn’t stand. Your mind was clear for the first time in weeks and it was beyond refreshing to talk to her about things that only another girl would understand. Being around boys every day of your life had taken a toll on you and you hadn’t realized it until you were laughing as Hyunae ranted about how obviously sexist your communications professor was. 

You could be yourself around the boys, of course. But with her, you could be someone you hadn’t been in a long time. 

With a fry between her fingers, she hummed, leaning her chin on her hand. 

It was only a matter of time before she reverted to what she came to talk to you about, and you tried your hardest to redirect the conversation each time it looked like it was going to be lead down that spiral of absolute hell—

“I think you guys would be cute together.”

You deadpanned, flicking your empty straw wrapper in her direction. 

“Are we really talking about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named right now?” You quirked a brow, not at all happy with the way she snickered at your question.

“If it makes you feel better, Y/n… I think I’ve had feelings for Hyunjin for a long time as well.”

“Oh yeah, my guilt is cured.”

She nearly snorted her water, sputtering a little bit around her mouthful. You took a bit of pride in that. 

“I actually missed your sarcasm, believe it or not.”

Sighing, you threw all of your remaining trash onto one plate, your belly finally full and happy. “Wow, you actually remember when we didn’t hate each other?”

“You really hated me?”

“A little bit. Your whole lovey-dovey act was a bit sickening.” You shrugged. 

“Because you’re in love with Ji?”

You froze immediately. 

Hyunae couldn’t just drop it? Her constant mention of Jisung was really putting a damper on your mood, and the itch of fight or flight was really beginning to kick in once again. 

And to think things were going so well. 

“No,” you said, shaking your head quickly. “No no, I have a boyfriend. Sort of... I’m not in love with anyone—”

“Y/n, look at me. Please,” she reached over the table to tap your chin with her pretty manicured finger, her face pulling into a soft smile. “Darling, it’s been almost two years since we graduated high school, and nothing has changed between the two of you since then. Even while you were dating other people. He still looks at you like you hung the damn stars and you still blush whenever he calls you those stupid little pet names he has for you. You’re both whipped.”

Your face softened under her stare. Her words hit a cord inside of your chest, but it was just something that made your head hurt when you thought about it. You didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. 

“Jisung and I have only ever been friends. Yes, we’ve been good friends for a long time, but he has never told me anything about liking me. If he can’t tell me something as simple as this then I don’t think I can—”

Suddenly her eyes were hard set, piecing fiercely into yours. It stopped you in your tracks immediately. 

“Don’t make me get any more upset with you, okay?” 

Hyunae was definitely a force to be reckoned with. 

“Listen,” She sighed, her eyes fluttering shut. “Jisung is the best guy I’ve ever dated and that probably won’t ever change. I want him to be happy, and I want you to be happy too. So please just think about things. I’m here telling you that this boy is head over heels in love with you—that he has been for years. His fault here is the fact that he’s so oblivious to his own feelings that he can’t see yours. He just—” her hands flailed in front of her, searching for her next words. “—doesn’t know how.”

You sighed. “I always liked Jisung when I was a kid. Hell, even earlier this year I could turn to you and say—yes, I am in love with Han Jisung.” 

Hyunae blinked. 

“But who the hell am I to say that I’m in love with someone? I’m not—I’m definitely not.” You sighed, mind wandering back to when things barely crossed your mind for longer than a minute. Things had been tossed around so lightly. “It was frustrating because it was so easy to like him when I was young. There wasn’t this huge word hanging over my head like there is now.”

Hyunae pushes her empty plate to join yours, speaking without a care. “You know that you don’t have to love him, right? You could simply like him.”

You felt the weight behind what she was saying in your chest, you didn’t have to label what you felt for him if you still weren’t sure. The only problem with that was that you knew what you felt for Jisung, and it was stupid. Because how could you look at someone and know how you felt when you hadn’t even seen every side of them? 

You couldn’t remember when he had last been serious with you. Never once had he looked at you with the eyes of an adult and told you about his inner thoughts. That wasn’t who Jisung was, he avoided those thoughts. 

He was only ever happy around you, and whether that was a good or a bad thing, you had no idea. 

“Was Jisung ever serious with you?”

Hyunae was momentarily stunned by your out of place question but she recovered with a small hum. “Well, a little bit. Whenever he was upset or tired he’d get a little snippy, but serious? I’m not really sure.”

That was just how Jisung was.

“Huh…”

“Oh,” she chirped suddenly, her lead raising as if she remembered something. “There was a moment when he was always serious.” 

Your head quirked to the side in question, eyes wide with curiosity. Despite knowing him for years, there was still plenty of unknowns to Han Jisung, and you were curious to know more.

“What is it?”

Hyunae’s mouth opened for a moment, then closed. Many things flashed over her face at once, but it was safe to assume that she was rethinking her words. Your chest fell. 

Her eyes darted away from yours, guilt flashing over her features. “I don’t think I can tell you that.”

“Not fair,” frowning, you pouted. “That’s the worst cliffhanger ever.”

She tisked, small smile pulling to her lips. “Well,” she shrugged. “You could always move forward to find out.”

She was right, you could. 

There were many things you had to move forward with, many people you had to have a conversation with; Jisung definitely being one of them. With a mental list of all the people that you had questions and answers for, everything only just began to clear themselves up. It was small, but it was something. Your head was always busy anyway, having things clearing out was like a breath of fresh air that you could barely reach. 

But it was still something. 

“You’re right. I think I just have to start with someone else.”

Hyunae smiled, “Get on with it then. Hurry your ass out of here.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting this,”

Maybe you shouldn’t have listened to Hyunae. 

Your heart was pounding radically in your chest as you sat straight as a board on the spinning office chair of the notorious recording room. You hadn’t seen it since that day it all began—honestly it had seemed so long ago. The room was cleaned up and organized, all the wires neatly tucked into the back instead of sprawled all over the floor, and you found yourself focusing more on that than the person in front of you. 

You almost had to force yourself to your chair, everything feeling way too heavy for your liking. 

“What do you mean?”

Chan ran a hand through his messy curls. It was only a few days ago that you had wanted to run your own fingers through his dark hair. 

“You and Jisung aren’t very subtle, but uh, I was just hoping you could like me—” he paused for a moment, filing through his mind for the right words. “—as well, I guess.”

“Oh…”

“Hey, it’s fine. Jisung’s a good guy, you guys will be good together.”

Had you stepped into a parallel universe where every ex was supportive instead of filled with rage?

“But—well, I don’t even know if we are going to end up together or anything like that. My head has just been all over the place lately and I definitely never intended to drag you into this mess. I feel awful, god I’m a terrible person, aren’t I—?”

“Y/n.” Chan said, voice firm. 

Your cheeks heated at the realization of your otherwise embarrassing ramble. 

“Sorry…” You squeaked. 

Chan sighed, leaning more weight against his desk. “Don’t be sorry. I just don’t want you freaking out here. You need to know that I’m an adult too, none of this is all your fault.”

You froze for a moment—one stupid moment just looking into Chan’s pretty brown eyes and realizing how weak they made you feel. 

Chan’s mouth curled into a sympathetic smile as a tear rolled down the apple of your cheek. His hand reached forward to swipe the intact droplet with his pointer finger, and a small giggle rippled through his chest. 

“God—Don’t cry, stupid,” he suddenly brushed his hand over your face, an attempt to raise your spirits to the very end. “You’re making me feel bad.”

“I hate you…” You sniffed, swatting his hand away with a quiet sob. 

As his finger ran over your wet cheek to collect the little drops that leaked down, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry so you did both, once again crumbling under his touch.

“Hey,” he smiled. “You can’t hate me. I should be the one hating you.”

Your lip jutted out into a pout, one that he wanted so badly to kiss from your lips. 

“Then we can hate each other.”

Chan hummed, watching as your jaw clenched in an attempt to keep your emotions from falling down your cheeks. You didn’t want him to see just how conflicted you were, he knew that much. 

“Okay. We can do that.” 

And he leaned down to place a soft kiss to the top of your head, careful of the affection he gave you. 

But it only made your stupid heart hiccup in your chest, opposed to the way it would’ve raced had it only been days prior. 

With Jisung it was warmth that spread over your body, but with Chan it was like floating in a pool of water with all your clothes on; encasing and safe and just a little sticky. 

You were sure if you wanted to chase after the brief relief that Chan brought to you, it was difficult to tell with the way you were trying to find your answers. Was one more chance unfair to Chan? Even after explaining your inner (and slightly unknown) thoughts and feelings to him about Jisung, could you still salvage anything if you tried one more time?

“Can I… kiss you please?” You asked, neither looking in his eyes or at his plump lips. You really liked his lips. 

Chan smiled, eyes darting down to your little pout. He liked your lips too. 

“You want to?”

You hummed, a small nod to tell him that you were too embarrassed to confirm his words with those of your own. But Chan was understanding and patient. He didn’t push you to do anything as Jisung did—Chan was so perfect, why the hell did you think about Han Jisung?

What was wrong with you?

You didn’t want to answer that question. You wanted it all to go away—the fear, the confusion, everything. And the way Chan was looking at you made you feel it all simmer down to nothing. His eyes were so soft. 

You were backpedaling, you knew that. But it was hard not to when Chan felt so safe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His lips quirked up. 

You felt bad for not liking Chan the way you liked Jisung. He was better to love and he showed you everything you had missed before. He held you when you were sad, cooed into your ear that everything was going to be alright when it was him who was taking the loss. Why did he do that?

Leaning forward, you all but collapsed into his embrace, finally feeling his soft lips again. 

One thing you loved about Chan was his arms. You loved how they felt around you, and how strong they were. A lot of people liked his arms for those reasons too, you supposed. He may have been your first, but you certainly weren’t his. 

How long were you going to go back and forth?

Reassurance was what you had with Chan, but with Jisung there was time. You took your time with him unknowingly, watching him with your brother as they played video games in Minho’s room. You were yelled at, pushed, and locked out, but you still got back up and pushed back. As uncool of a sister you were back then, you persisted. 

Minho and Jisung would tease you and pick on you all they wanted, but you were still there at the end of the day. Tear stained cheeks and dirty clothes, and you were still there carrying your silly crush on your big brother’s best friend. 

There was time spent building something to stand on, years of pining and banter lead to a feeling that you couldn’t just replace with a kind heart and a kiss. 

No matter how nice the lips you kissed were. 

Chan knew this too. He knew you were thinking of so many different factors at once, and he was still pulling you tight to him, aware that your kiss would be his last from you. What he felt with you was terrifying. 

You both meant to forget. 

His arms held you tight, hands respectfully placed on your waist as you pushed and pushed into the embrace. The kiss was all new and too intense, but there was something screaming at you to just keep going. 

It grew more heated and your emotions mingled as a small voice began chipping away at the back of your mind; telling you that you didn’t deserve it, that you didn’t deserve him. Even as you found yourself lifting to your knees and straddling his waist, the voice persisted, not even silenced by the soft words that Chan spoke. 

“I feel like you’re going to break if I touch you.” He admitted, voice unstable. 

You shook your head in a daze, “I won’t, I promise.”

You wanted the thought of Jisung out—the thought of him touching another girl the same way Chan was touching you. Did he hold Hyunae like this? Did he kiss her like she was the most precious thing to him? Was there a chance that he would with you? Did he even want to? 

You wanted no part of that thought so you pushed further. 

“I’ll be okay, Chan. If it’s you, I’ll be okay.” You murmured.

Chan’s heart thudded in his chest. 

And in that moment, he almost forgot that you were in love with someone else. 

“Okay, I’ll take care of you.”

You smiled, a small burst of heat running over your cheeks. 

“Sap…”

Chan nearly responded with, “but I’m your sap” but he managed to bite his tongue, distracting himself by slipping one hand under the hem of your shirt. His hand was cold but not unwelcome as it felt along your stomach, and for the first time being with Chan your thoughts slipped—his hand was too strong, too rough. It wasn’t soft and pretty like Jisung’s, it wasn’t warm and comfortable like Jisung’s had been around your waist that morning. Chan’s hands were veiny and cold to the touch. Of course ther was nothing wrong with that. But they weren’t Jisung’s.

All it took was one hug from Jisung to stir up your head, huh?

But he had felt so nice against your back, his with but muscular build feeling like it was meant to be there all along. He had hugged you from behind back in high school many times, his chin resting on your shoulder and his breath fanning over your neck. It was hard to focus then, and it had been hard to focus that morning as well. How did you not know it was Jisung?

Sure, he and Chan were similar in height but Jisung just fit differently. 

And when his eyes landed on your neck, it had been the feeling of panic that crossed you. You didn’t want Jisung to see you like that—with another man’s markings over your throat. 

A sudden thought crossed your mind as Chan slowed his lips journey on your neck…

Was it really Minho that was preventing you from dating? 

The look in your brother’s eyes had been one of disappointment, but he hadn’t done anything, and deep down you knew there was no way he would really hurt the person you were in a relationship with. Of course he would scare them away and make it clear that he wasn’t a fan of you dating, but there you were, watching him do it, barely giving your big brother a slap on the wrist—

“Y/n,” Chan called, and you hadn’t even realized that he had taken his mouth off of your shoulder. “Babygirl…”

He tested the name on his tongue.

But his doubts were confirmed as you frowned. The nickname would’ve once sounded like heaven leaving his lips, but now...

He sent you a small smile after studying your features for a moment. 

“Do you miss him, right now?”

Your eyes widened at his words—you did. 

“No. Of course not,” you said, shaking your head with shaky inhales. “Why are you asking me that?”

There was an internal battle behind Chan’s eyes as he watched your face morph into discomfort. He was a little frustrated. 

Chan removed his hand from underneath your shirt. 

“If we’re going to be friends, Y/n… I don’t want you to lie to me anymore, okay?”

The shock that his words gave you made your eyes well up. It was like a punch to the gut to hear Chan scold you. He had never done such a thing before and you knew—you knew for sure that you couldn’t keep lying. 

When you cried, Chan didn’t wipe away your tears, he simply kept his eyes on yours as his hand rubbed small circles on your back. You needed to cry, and of course Chan knew that. 

He was Chan after all. 

“I’m so sorry—” you hiccuped, swallowing air as your palms lifted to cover your eyes. “—this sucks. This really really sucks.”

Chan sighed, feeling the sleepless nights catch up to him as he watched you break down. It was the worst feeling. It wasn’t that you were very obviously in love with someone else despite how his own chest aches for you to sink back into him and kiss the tiredness away, no—it was the fact that it was tearing you apart.  That was what hurt him the most. 

“Go see Ji.” 

Chan topped your head up with his finger, leaving one last peck to your tear covered lips. 

“He’s probably still upset.”

You nodded, laying your head down on his chest with a shaky sigh. “You’re a good guy, Chan…”

“Yeah, I know.”