#my school gives away free stuff and I took a big binder

[donuts4evry1]

recently got a binder to do fun jellyfish research on 😳😳😳!!

[xpeachesncream]

it takes two | one shot (myg)

summary: min yoongi was the one who came to understand you and took you for you. but, when boundaries start getting crossed and priorities begin to change, you start to question if your relationship with your bestfriend is strong enough to make it through.

pairing: athlete!reader x athlete!myg

genre: bestfriends to lovers au, basketball au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 12.3k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, protected AND unprotected sex (later on), slight breast play, oral (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, missionary, riding/straddling, mentions of alcohol consumption, dancing, mention of marijuana, sex on the beach kinda?, some heavy angst, insecurities, crying, injuries (like a cut/ankle sprain), yoongi is just kind of an idiot at one point

note: heavily inspired by the movie love and basketball. unedited for the most part, pls excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

tags: @ggukkieland​ @miinoongi​ @bluesharksandfish​ @unicornbabylover​

⏏︎ now playing: triggered - jhené aiko ; sorry enough - chris brown

First Quarter: 6th Grade

You didn't really have a lot of friends in elementary school. Any, actually. Hell, the girls in your class purposely ignored you because you acted different. Dressed different. Enjoyed the shit boys liked, like playing ball and video games. You couldn't relate to their gel pens, Lisa Frank folders, cute binder stickers and bracelet charms. None of that shit was you. But you didn't care, you were fine by yourself. Nobody to please, nobody to care for.

The only person that came to understand you was Min Yoongi and that's because you played basketball with him and his friends during daycare. At first, it came as a surprise because truthfully, you felt like Yoongi only let you play because he felt bad for you. Which, okay, whatever— so be it. But, after the last round during a game of two versus two, you found yourself on the ground, huge gash on the knee from chasing after the ball before it could go out of bounds.

"Ouch! Crap!" You groaned as you sat up and checked out your knee. Yoongi walks towards you and crouches down, examining the bloody gash.

"Come on." He says, holding out a hand to help lift you up. He swings your arm over his shoulder, already knowing that any sudden movements to your knee can make the wound sting. He takes his time and walks with you as you hop on one leg towards the office, not really saying much. Yoongi wasn't the most talkative in class. He hung out with two or three other boys in your class on the daily, but they were quiet. Weren't much troublemakers, didn't cause ruckus like the other boys did. But, he was still popular among the girls because he was a little cutiepie. You remember walking into the bathroom, hearing Angie and her friends tease her about her crush on Yoongi. Then, the following week, one of her friends also ended up crushing on Yoongi and they bickered [weirdly] in the bathroom about it.

Getting to the office, he sits you down on the bench before approaching the office admin to grab some bandaids and ice for you.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Min?" Mrs. Yao comes over to greet him.

"Y/N's hurt. Can I get a bag of ice and a bandaid for her, please?" Mrs. Yao looks over her shoulder and does a head tilt before sighing. She knew you weren't like the girls in your class, always getting hurt one way or another, being more hardheaded and stubborn than the usual. She grabs a bag of ice and hands the supplies over to Yoongi before placing her hands on her hips.

"You think you can take care of Miss Y/N, or do you need me to help?" He shakes his head.

"I got it, thank you Mrs. Yao." He politely says, giving her a small toothless smile. You silently watch as he walks over, crouching down once again to tend to your wounds. "I don't think this will hurt, but stay still so I can put this bandaid on." He says softly as he spreads the small Neosporin packet across your wound. He wipes his finger down on his pants before removing the back of the bandaid and pressing it against your knee. "There. You should keep the ice on it so it doesn't bruise and stuff." He stands.

"Thank you." He nods as he watches you stand and slightly limp before you adjust your steps to the right pressure. He follows you out, coming back to your side with his hands in his pockets.

"Why don't you act like the other girls?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow at you.

"What? Not liking all the girly stuff that they like?"

"Sure, or you playing basketball. You know girls are usually like cheerleaders and cheer the guys on instead."

"Well, I don't wanna be a cheerleader. I just would rather play. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, it's just weird to see."

"You're weird." You snapped back.

"How am I weird?"

"You shoot weird."

"And you don't? I shoot better than you." He furrows his brows.

"No you don't."

"Fine, wanna play one more time? Unless you're a wuss and can't play cause of your knee." You rolled your eyes at the sudden change of events.

"I'll play you, I'm not a wuss. Unless you're afraid to lose to a girl." You taunt him as you both walk back to the court.

"Whatever, I'm not afraid cause I won't lose." He grabs the ball and checks it in. "My ball first."

"Sure, if you think that'll help."

And that's how Yoongi lost to you, busted knee and everything. From there, it was history. You became inseparable, Yoongi becoming a large part of your days and vice versa. His parents eventually became close to yours after the numerous times you both have been dropped off to hang out, or catching rides home after school. Yoongi lived in a nearby neighborhood, only being a good 7 minute walk, to be exact.

Second Quarter: High School, Senior Year

In high school, it became a little different. Yoongi grew up, played varsity basketball and became a fucking jock even though he claimed he would never. Yeah, bullshit. You too, played on the girls varsity basketball team, and surprisingly, you two kept each other close. It was a blessing and a curse though, because you couldn't see your life without Yoongi. He's been there since the 6th grade. However, girls took note of that shit. Trying to use you as their way in to Yoongi's heart, or pants, or both. You made it very clear though that you weren't interested in being a fucking messenger. Girls thought you were mean, but really, they just couldn't handle you. Hence, why you really couldn't relate and be one of them.

Yoongi was still the only person who could understand you and handle you, bad attitude and all. Tomboy habits and all. Not wanting to make friends and all.

"Jesus fucking christ, the day just started." Yoongi says as he watches you toss your duffle bag and backpack aggressively in the back seat of his car. "What's your deal?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired." You slump in his passenger seat after buckling your seat belt.

"Chill, don't start your day like this."

"Whatever, dad." You rolled your eyes, causing him to let out a pathetic chuckle.

"Are you coming to my game later?"

"Yeah, if I'm not too tired from practice."

"Y/N, I always make it to your games even if I'm tired."

"Do you?"

"The fuck? Yes I do. When haven't I?" His tone raises with yours. "Don't try and justify your shit by coming up with lies."

"Yeah, yeah bighead. You'll have plenty of cheerleaders there for you."

"Yeah and?" He smirks. "You're the one I'll be looking for though." He caresses your chin, making you smack his hand away while he laughs loudly.

"You're stupid." You groan as you sink lower in his seat. The rest of the ride to school, you shut your eyes and enjoy the peace before you're having to walk down those annoying, congested hallways.

People rave a lot about senior year, but it honestly hasn't felt special to you. Maybe because you kept the same routine since freshmen year, or maybe you really just didn't care as much as everyone else did about how "special" it was. You've always been locked in to basketball even if your mom wasn't a big fan of it. She wished you were more into cute, girly shit, like makeup, shopping, manis and pedis and dresses and heels, but she came to accept this was the way it was going to be. Especially because your dad was your biggest fan. You came to love basketball, more than just a side hobby. You joined the varsity team and practiced day in and day out. When basketball wasn't in season, you'd play with Yoongi at the park or sign up for camps and tournaments. You just wanted to keep bettering yourself so that you could play in college and get into the league post-grad. Yoongi was the same, and he may or may not have influenced your passion for ball. Either way, he was always supporting you and cheering for you even if the other females hated it.

His ex for sure hated the relationship you had with him even though you really steered clear when she was around. Wasn't your fucking problem or responsibility to take care of her insecurities. Same with his flings.

"Hey, so later, yeah?" He asks in between throwing nods and smiles to girls passing by.

"Mhm." You hum. "You gonna be free for lunch later?"

"I don't know. I know where to find you though if I am."

"Have a good day, punk."

"You too, bub. See you in English." He turns on his heel, walking towards his friends, aka his team members. Aka his jock ass group. Aka the ones females flock to.

Namjoon, Jimin, Eunwoo, Lucas.

They were all pretty boys who knew they were pretty boys and used that to their advantage to make big asshole moves. You hated that Yoonks got pulled in from time to time, but shit, it wasn't your life, you were only a small part of his. Sometimes, they also pulled in the football boys, Jungkook and Seokjin. Even the baseball boys, Hoseok and Taehyung. It was all a huge pretty boy, jock, asshole group in the making outside. A big fucking party for a lot of the girls at school, though.

So even if Yoongi was really the only one in your life, you weren't the only one in his. It is, what it is. As long as he doesn't go switching up on you, then whatever, so be it.

The first half of your classes go by quick, being that you enjoyed your chemistry, french and english classes. You had your english class with Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok. You had gotten to know Namjoon and Hoseok a little through it, and it was enough to know that they weren't all that bad. At least in this classroom setting.

"You two going to prom together?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi snort.

"No, what the hell?" Yoongi responds.

"You guys can have fun at prom." You roll your eyes.

"You're really not gonna go?" Joon bites on the end of his pencil.

"No? The fuck I look like?"

"Y/N, I know it'd be weird as fuck to see you in a dress, but it's senior year. You didn't go last year, did you?" Namjoon asks from Yoongi's other side.

"Really, Namjoon?" You give him a look as if it could state the obvious.

"Well shit, I don't know. I know it's not your thing but can't really say I would have noticed either way." Hoseok laughs, causing you to throw your pen at his head before flicking him off.

"Miss Y/N!" Mrs. Maxwell calls you out mid-movie, eyes wide and in disbelief at how you're acting.

"What?! He started it." You slumped back in your seat and let out a sigh.

"Not another word." She says sternly.

"Not another word." You mock her under your breath.

"Aye, stop. You and that attitude boutta get in some trouble the last weeks of senior year." Yoongi puts his hand on your wrist, causing you to shake your head and click your teeth.

"Anyway, you should go." Hoseok whispers as he leans over on the table to look at you.

"No. Besides, with what date?"

"Take the basketball." Joon snickers.

"You're a complete dumbass, Namjoon. Stop talking." You snap.

"Maybe they're right, bub. It's senior year and it's coming to an end quick. I'd hate for you to regret it." Yoongi turns to you and says lowly.

"You know that won't happen." But really, part of you did feel a little bad. You knew it wasn't your scene, and you really didn't care what people thought of you when it came down to it. However, you always wondered what it would be like if someone liked you. If someone wanted you. Crushed on you so hard that they couldn't keep their hands off of you, couldn't stop thinking of you. Your first love. To feel pleasure, pain. Mixture of emotions simply by being in love. You wondered what it would be like to lose your virginity and have good, good sex. Besides, you were a human with needs. But the only person you have ever been close to was Yoongi. For the most part, you didn't see him that way because you knew he definitely didn't. But, you also couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to take your relationship to that point. If it was anyone, he would be the one you'd have feelings for. He would be your first kiss, your first everything. Because Yoongi was comfort and security for you.

But you valued your friendship more than anything.

"Just saying, think about it." He follows up.

"Think about getting an expensive dress and painful ass heals to wear for one night, just to dance around in 'em and take one professional pic with a date? Maybe get railed if I'm lucky?" You playfully wiggle your eyebrows making Yoongi shake his head.

"Don't be such a party pooper for once."

"Mmm. Great reasoning. Really convincing me here." You laugh it off even though in all honesty, you were thinking about it.

The bell rings and thank god it's finally lunch because you were fucking starving. Appetite and attitude on na-na, no doubt. You silently part ways with Yoongi to stop by your locker and grab your lunch. You make your way to the rowdy ass cafeteria, quickly scanning the room to catch a sight of Yoongi. You see him sitting on top of one of the lunch tables with Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung sitting around him. Clearly, Yoongi wasn't free today.

"Wassup baby? Wanna trade that ball in for me?" Jimin says as you pass by their table to make your way outside to the bleachers. You flick him off before rolling your eyes and pretending to gag.

"Fuck off, Park." The group laughs except for Yoongi.

"Wonder if she's got that bad attitude in bed, too." Yoongi doesn't hesitate to smack Jimin upside the head because yeah, no matter what, he was gonna protect you as much as possible. "Owwww, I'm just kidding Yoongi."

"Don't let me hear you say that shit around me ever again."

"Fuck, I'm sorry. It was just a joke." Jimin winces as he rubs the back of his head.

"Damn Min Yoonks, why don't you take her ass to prom if it's like that?" Taehyung says, chewed up food coming into full view as he smacks loudly.

"Why don't you learn how to close your mouth first?" Yoongi spits back.

"Y/N is really rubbing off on you."

"It's manners, idiot. You should've been learned that." Namjoon says, laughing.

"But foreel, why won't you take her? You both are close, you've never seen her that way?" Hoseok asks making Yoongi shake his head in response.

"She's my bestfriend. I value her just the way she is, no more no less."

"Ah, you must have thought about it at least once." Yoongi keeps silent. Luckily, the group easily gets distracted and starts paying attention to Seokjin and Jungkook coming over as they talk about the dates they've scored for prom.

Yoongi has thought about it. Still does. Just like he is for you, you're the only one who understands him and takes him for who he is. You know the real him besides basketball player Yoongi. You're the only one who keeps it real. But he would rather keep it this way than ruin things between you and him. He'd hate to fuck up with you because he knows he can fuck up, there's no hiding from it. He'd never forgive himself if he lost you.

Practice is hell today for you and fuck, you really wanna just go home and lay down for the rest of the evening. Coach had you all running suicides and conditioning drills on the courts outside and pulling scrimmages against each other left and right. Let's not forget how coach is always on your ass right before a game too. Hell, she catches an attitude way worse than you before game time and after a loss. You wanted to avoid that at all costs. But, to avoid taking the bus home and instead hitching a ride with Yoongi, you throw on a hoodie and haul your ass to the gym in some nike slippers. You take a seat on a free end at one of the bleachers, holding Spalding in between your legs with your duffle next to you on the floor. The game is off to a start in about 5 minutes, Yoongi catches sight of you on the bleachers and nods. You give him a small smile as a gesture of good luck, which he reciprocates.

The game starts off intensely, both teams scoring closely even with the boys putting straight pressure. Towards the end of the first half, Yoongi and Eunwoo are the leading scorers, putting their team up by 10. Halftime is a bunch of hoo-haa, with cheerleaders in their itty bitty skirts, trying to shake their asses as they cheer for the boys. The boys don't even hide the fact that their ogling, and it's clear as day they all want some pussy. Quite frankly, they walk around thinking they deserve it cause of how hard they try to pull some wins and put the school on the map. Student government comes up for a bit too, pulling some kind of skit to weirdly promote prom. It makes you cringe and in all honesty, it makes you not wanna go even more, but it is your senior year. If you can snag a date, then maybe.

"Hey." Terra [not a cheerleader but still a pretty, popular chick] plops next to you with a smirk on her face. Immediately, you want no part in it because you already know what she's trying to do.

"Hi?"

"I'm just gonna cut straight to it. Do you know if Yoongi is seeing anyone?"

"How the hell would I know, Terra?" You furrow your brows at her.

"Because you're close to him, aren't you?"

"And? Doesn't mean I'm telling people his business. Besides, he's not obligated to tell me everything just cause we're close." She rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. Look, can you do me a favor and give this to him?" She tries handing you a little ass piece of paper folded neatly with a pink heart decorated on the front.

"Why don't you give it to him yourself?"

"That's no fun." You scoff and roll your eyes. Really, miss girl? "Be a doll for once, yeah?" She winks and slips the note in between your wrist and Spalding so it stays put. You take the note and eye it, letting out a deep sigh as you shove it into your pocket. You weren't in the mood to be extra rude today so you'll give it to him later when he drives you home.

The game finally finishes with Yoongi making a final three, the boys keeping their lead up by 10. Everyone cheers and showers the boys with love after the team has finished shaking hands and high-fiving their opponents. You stick around until the crowd dies down, watching Yoongi flirt with Terra as you swing your duffle bag strap onto your shoulder before slowly heading down the bleachers.

"Hey bighead, good game today." You lightly punch him against the chest.

"I knew you'd come."

"Shut up. I'll be at your car."

"For what?"

"Cause you're taking me home, punk."

"No please?"

"Please." He shakes his head and chuckles before you part ways to let him gather his things in the locker room. When you finally catch sight of his teeny head coming towards you from the gym, you hear him unlock his car to let you in while he continues to walk over.

"Fuuuuuck." He says, throwing his things in the back before buckling his seat belt and switching the gear into drive.

"You have fan mail." Yoongi looks over and sees you clutching the note Terra gave you.

"What's that, a condom?"

"You're sick. It's from Terra."

"Who's that again?" You make a face at him.

"You were just telling her sweet nothings earlier after the game?"

"Oh, Terra with the tig o' bitties. Got it." He shakes his head. "I wasn't telling her sweet nothings."

"Right. You're an absolute dipshit, you know?" You prop up a leg on the seat while you unfold the letter.

"Give it!" You move it away from his grasp and begin to read it out loud.

"Yoongi, you're honestly so hot. If you don't have a date for prom, I just want you to know that I'm free, and I promise I'll give you a good time if you take me." You cackle. "Boy, what the fuck is this? Ew."

"Shut up." He blushes before laughing along with you.

"Look at her, writing her coochie out on paper."

"She isn't."

"Oh, really? Pfft." You softly scoff. "So, are you taking her or what?"

"I don't know? Maybe, damn. What about you?"

"What about me, fool? I told you I'd think about it."

"Go with Jimin. He still doesn't have a date." He hates to say it with how much of an asshole Jimin can be, but if it meant you'd be at your senior prom then Yoongi will let it pass. He'll make sure Jimin doesn't try any slick shit.

"Ew, god no."

"Look, I'll make sure he doesn't go overboard. I promise."

"Why do you want me there so badly, Yoongi?"

"Because it's our last year in high school together and I'd really like to celebrate with you somehow." You sigh heavily.

"Fair enough. Let me sit on it."

"Better hurry and stop keeping that seat warm."

"Don't rush me." You punch his arm, causing a groan to erupt from him.

- - -

Really, you'd rather be anywhere than at prom with Park Jimin holding onto your waist the way he is for the pictures you're taking with him, Yoongi and the rest of their group and dates. After all the pictures and fake smiles, you feel him slowly slip his hand down your dress to try and get a grip on your ass, but before you could do so, you're grabbing his wrist with full pressure and making him wince.

"Don't you fucking dare or else I'll cut your dick off and throw it in a blender."

"Aish, ah, fuck! Okay, I'm kidding, let me go!" He whines lowly. You let go of his wrist after one more good squeeze, causing him to wiggle his hand to get the feeling back.

"Get me some punch, will you? My mouth is dry."

"You know, I might know something else that can help." Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he continues to hold onto his wrist.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Or not. I'll be back." He accepts defeat by smiling from ear to ear before walking off. You sit off to the side, the heels a huge pain in the ass on top of Jimin already being a huge pain in the ass. You lean over on your knees, completely forgetting you have a short dress on, causing boys passing by to whistle and eye at the easy access.

"The fuck are you looking at? Keep it moving." Yoongi says pushing the guys forward before shooting you a look. "Y/N, really?"

"Shit sorry, I forgot. I'm not used to this." You sit up and adjust your dress before rubbing your arms at how self-conscious you suddenly [and unexpectedly] feel.

"Are you having fun at least?" He sits next to you, manspreading on the seat in the navy suit he has on.

"Mmm, sure." You slightly smile at him. "What about you? You actually took Terra, huh?"

"Yeah, it's pretty fun." He chuckles. "Don't lie, I saw you dancing a bit earlier."

"That's when the alcohol hadn't worn off yet." You snort, remembering Seokjin's older brother giving the group alcohol after all the parents were done taking their pictures of you all. Yoongi laughs along with you before he looks over and simply stares at you, hair all done, makeup done perfectly without it being too much. You in a dress.

"You look beautiful tonight, bub."

"You don't look too bad yourself, bubby." You blush before Jimin interrupts the moment with your cup of punch.

"Here, princess."

"You better not be trying anything slick, punkass." Yoongi says.

"Mm, don't worry. I haven't been able to." You kick his shin as you chug your punch, causing him to cough and choke on his own words. "I'd like to peacefully have this slow dance with you at least, damn." You swallow the last bits of punch before you're taking Jimin's hand to the floor. Yoongi watches as you two make your way to the dance floor for a slow dance, slightly regretting that he didn't just ask you to dance.

"Let's dance, babe." Terra's baby voice comes out as she pulls him up from the seat to find a spot on the dance floor. Yoongi is honestly tired of having to keep up with Terra's energy and her clingy ass, but nonetheless, he was happy you were around for prom.

He was really happy you were around for prom, even though you hated this shit more than anything.

He had you in full view ahead, and so did you. He couldn't help but direct his attention towards you and keep his eyes on you. Fuck, he has never seen anyone so beautiful until you walked through Seokjin's doors with Jimin. Look, let's get this straight. Even though you had your own way of expressing yourself, he always loved your natural beauty, your natural glow. He loved watching you on the court and how happy it made you to play ball. He remembers every accomplishment, every milestone you've reached. How you've grown tremendously as a ball player. He would never admit it to you in person, but he definitely admires how you push yourself and how you always do what you can to improve. Hell, you might just be the better player between the both of you. And when you catch him looking over, he doesn't even try and hide it. He doesn't even care that he's still holding onto Terra and slow dancing with her.

Something within you flips. You feel that shit in the pit of your stomach, at the heat of your core.

But, you brush it off and break eye contact first, even if he doesn't stop staring. This couldn't happen, no. This was your bestfriend. You weren't gonna let the things you felt get in the way of that.

Nope.

Suddenly, the song changes to something more upbeat and twerkable, Jimin taking the opportunity to spin you around and grind on you. You really need a distraction anyway, something to rid you of those god awful thoughts about your bestfriend, so you let him and you have fun with it. Everyone around you is having fun anyway, and fuck, you wouldn't have to do this ever again so fuck it.

"Let me get a dance with my bestfriend." Yoongi says to Jimin.

"Go dance with your date!"

"Shut up and switch for a second!" Yoongi says, pushing him off of you so he could get behind and dance with you.

"Yoonks, what the hell?" You laugh.

"Go with it, bub. It's fucking senior year, we're graduating soon." You go with his movements, having the time of your life with everyone around you as prom quickly comes to a close.

When you get into Jimin's car, you knock off your heels as he continues to talk nonstop about the night. Jimin was a cutie but god, you could not stand his mindset for the life of you. You were grateful he had agreed to take you to prom, but damn. Prom was done and all you wanted was some peace and quiet.

"I hope you had fun with me tonight." You give him a toothless smile before slipping your heels back on.

"I did, thank you for taking me. Really." He smiles from ear to ear before leaning over near your seat.

"Can I get just one good smooch for the night?" You look at him before you smirk and lean over near his lips.

"Sure." You whisper.

"Oh fuck, this is actually happening."

"Close your eyes, I know you don't fucking kiss with your eyes open. What are you doing?"

"Right. Sorry." He closes his eyes and puckers his lips. You lean in a little closer, feeling his breath against your lips.

Then you flick his nose.

"Ouch!"

"Peace out, Park." You throw open his door to step out and shut it behind you to quietly walk into your house.

The lights are off and your parents are already tucked into the room for the night, leaving you a note on the fridge reminding you to make sure all the doors are locked before retreating to your room. You do as you're reminded before quietly shutting your door and tossing your heels to the side. You let the pins down from your hair, ruffling it around a bit and relieving any pressure on your head. Before turning away from your dresser, you notice a letter from the one university you had been waiting on. You had been waiting to hear back from Stanford for the longest time, and quite frankly, you had been upset you hadn't heard especially when their scouts were at your game awhile ago.

You had broken down to your parents, to Yoongi, automatically assuming the worst when you heard that other people had already been accepted and scouted for Stanford. Suddenly, you found yourself working harder and harder because you felt like you were lacking in so many areas. You felt low, and like your dream was running miles and miles away from you. Faster than you could keep up.

You take the letter in your hand, but don't want to open it because you don't feel ballsy enough [surprisingly]. You call up Yoongi, not caring that he could possibly be in the middle of getting his dick wet.

"Sup?"

"Are you busy?"

"I was just about to walk into my house."

"Oh, nevermind."

"Need me to come by?"

"I got a letter from Stanford."

"Shit, I'll be there in 2 mins."

And in 2 minutes, he surely was knocking at your window. You slide it up enough for him to climb in, Yoongi still in his prom get-up as well.

"Here." You instantly hand him the letter.

"What, why me? It should be you."

"I can't, I really can't." He sighs.

"Are you sure you won't regret this?"

"No, bub. Please." You sit on the bed and fiddle with your fingers as you watch him rip the envelope open and tear out the letter. You can't even keep your eyes on him as he reads the letter and starts backing away from you.

"Shit."

"What? What?!" You stand, trying your best to keep your tone low. He covers his mouth, causing you to pinch his bicep at how dramatic he was being. "Just say it!"

"You're not going." Your heart sinks, but before you could process it, Yoongi speaks up again. "To any other college because Stanford wants you."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" You whisper and shove him.

"Congrats, bubby. Guess we'll be together in college too." Your eyes widen.

"Y-you're going? T-to Stanford?" He smiles and nods.

"Yeah, I am."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Look, I just wanted to give you your space. That's all. I found out before you went all cry baby on me."

"Shut up." You say before laughing and jumping into his arms, throwing your legs around his torso while he swings you around. As he sets you back down onto your bedroom floor, your hands linger around his neck, gently tugging on the hair that rested there. He keeps you close, his hands resting around your waist as your chests are still touching. You honestly have no idea what takes over you— perhaps all the feelings you felt tonight at prom taking over, or feeling overjoyed from finally hearing back from Stanford, you couldn't decide. But you crash your lips against his, immediately pulling back after you realized you've just kissed your bestfriend.

You just had your first fucking kiss through accidental causes.

Well, shit.

Was it accidental or no?

Mind is going off on a tangent.

"Woah. I'm so sorry, Yoonks, I—" He doesn't allow for any space between you two, keeping your body flush against his as his lips crash onto yours again to cut you off. To be quite honest, things are moving fast and the kiss deepens quick. You follow his motions, gaining some rhythm as your tongue dances along with his in the [now] wet, sloppy kiss.

"Wait, Y/N." He pulls away as the moment intensifies. "A-are you sure you wanna keep going? To be honest, I don't know if I'll be able to hold myself back and I know you haven't exactly—" He knows it would be your first time and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. I mean, sure, he loved you. You were special to him. But he wanted to make sure your first time was also special, whether it be him or whoever else.

"Please. I want this. I wanna do this with you."

By the looks of tonight, it seems like it's meant to be him.

You press your lips back onto his with the same intensity and start to unbutton his shirt when you feel his hands hike up your dress. He gently pushes you on the bed, crawling over to you as he kicks off his shoes and finishes ripping off his shirt and tie. He slowly removes the straps of your dress down your shoulders and undoes the zipper on the side before slipping it down and leave you in your panties.

You had no bra on.

Yoongi's eyes widen when he realizes such, your cheeks heating up while you watch him stare down your body. You begin to feel incredibly self-conscious so you cover your chest with an arm. Yoongi senses your uneasiness, your confidence shooting down below zero.

"You're beautiful, bub. Don't." He says, gently tugging your arm away and letting it fall limply to the side. You simply nod and let him take the reigns because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. So many emotions were flooding your mind— you were nervous, you were scared, you were shy, you felt lost and too innocent under Yoongi, even if he knew you like the back of his hand.

And because of that, he could pick up on it with the way your body continued to tense up. He shook off his pants, leaving on his boxers until you were ready for him. Cause fuck, he was ready for you, but he had to take this slow. He had to take care of you.

He lowers himself onto you after the two of you have climbed under the sheets, lowering his head against your neck to press light, feathery kisses along the surface. You felt the tingles shoot down your spine every time his lips made contact, causing you to softly gasp and arch your back at how sensitive you were already feeling.

"If you ever feel uncomfortable, just tell me to stop okay?" He says lowly. You nod in response, Yoongi taking it as leverage to plant a kiss on your lips before moving down to your breasts. He keeps his eyes on you, making sure you don't seem uncomfortable in the slightest bit. But you don't, and it's indicated in the way you bite your bottom lip and arch your back at the way his tongue wraps around your hardened bud. He does the same on the other breast before peppering kisses down your stomach and abdomen.

"Yoongi." You slightly gasp, shy at how unusually close he is to your lady friend.

"What's wrong? Want me to stop?" His thumbs gently caressed your thighs as his head hovered over your pelvis. You shake your head and nervously swallow before speaking once more.

"I-I'm just scared, what if you don't like—"

"Shh." He shushes you. "You're everything to me, you know that. You don't have to change just so I could enjoy you in bed. I'll take good care of you, bub. I promise."

"O-okay." He nods, placing a kiss over your clothed clit before pulling them down to get lost within your sheets. He swipes a finger down your folds, causing your breathing to hitch slightly. You watch as he slowly inserts the same digit inside of you, biting onto his bottom lip watching your facial expressions turn from uncertainty to straight pleasure. "Another." You moan.

"You sure?"

"Yes, please." He inserts another digit, curling his fingers upward as he starts to finger fuck you at a steady pace.

"Shit, you're so wet Y/N." He says lowly before lowering his mouth onto you to get a taste and tease your clit. You gasp at the overwhelming sensation, feeling the pleasure bubbling in your core and you had no idea how to deal with it. He picks up his pace while tonguing your clit and sucking at the right pressure until suddenly, you short circuit and tremble under his grip. You purse your lips together to prevent yourself from moaning too loud with your parents at the other end of the hall [jesus fucking christ], knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets tightly.

Your first orgasm came and washed over you quick.

"Did you just—" He removes his digits from inside of you, drooling at your cum accumulating all over his fingers.

"Holy fuck." You whisper as you regulate your breathing, twitching when Yoongi places a quick kiss on your pussy before coming back up to you.

"How was that?"

"So good. Wanna feel you." You whine, tugging him down towards you.

"I got you, bubby." He says, kissing your jaw, cheek, nose and lips. He reaches over into his pants on the floor, grabbing a condom out of his pocket. You furrow your brow and chuckle, confused if this was something he always did.

"You just carry that around?"

"The guys and I split on a box and carried one each for tonight. Just in case."

"Total fucking assholes." He chuckles.

"Better safe than not, right?" He rips it open with his teeth, spitting the wrapper out onto the floor before rolling it down his cock. He was perfectly thick and long, and it made you a nervous wreck all over again thinking about how this could feel. "Ready? I'll go slow." You nod. You immediately felt immense pressure when you felt Yoongi dip his body and slowly enter you. You winced, Yoongi immediately pausing until you tapped his arm to continue. And so he does, and you continue to breathe through it until he bottoms out and lets out a soft groan against your neck. "Fuck, you're so tight bub. God, you're gonna make me cum quick." He slowly pumps in and out, steadying his pace when he feels you buck your hips up to go along with his motions.

The pleasure skyrocketed; You shut your eyes, letting yourself be in this moment. Feel this moment.

He picks it up a little faster, careful not to bang your headboard against the wall. His forehead is pressed against yours, watching as you let out soft whimpers against his lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yoongi-Yoongi—" You whispered. "You're gonna make me—" It was becoming overwhelming, your clit rubbing against him as he steadied his pace and continued to fuck into you. He nods, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"Yeah, that's it. Let go. It's okay." And that was enough for you to reach your second orgasm tonight. Quick, but fuck. Yoongi made you feel so good, and you wouldn't want it any other way. You shut your eyes as you hurdled over the edge, mouth open with silent, inaudible moans being released. "So fucking pretty." Yoongi says as he feels himself reaching his high with the way your walls pulsated against his cock.

God. So, so good.

He holds onto the headboard and quickly fucks into you until he's spilling his seed in the condom, muffled moans being released against the crook of your neck. It takes a moment before Yoongi raises his head, your hands running through his black hair while he presses a tender kiss against your lips. He slowly removes himself, wrapping the condom in a tissue before tossing it into your trash can. He plops next to you and welcomes you into his arms, caressing you to soothe you from your first time.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." You say, the both of you trying to savor the moment before trying to navigate where to go from here.

What now?

Third Quarter: College, Junior Year (Present)

You bent down, hands resting against your knees as you tried to catch your breath during the timeout Coach Chu had called with 5.2 seconds literally left on the clock. He laid out the play he wanted you and the team to pull off in order to gain the win over Berkeley.

It had to be executed perfectly. No flaws.

Coach Chu had been riding your ass since you were a freshman. But, over the years, you've learned how to work through his tough love and turn it into positives, bettering yourself on and off the floor. It paid off, and he saw the fire in you, finally moving you up to starting point guard right before the season ended. Some team members hated it at first, but eventually, grew to work with it as well.

The plan was to have you come down into the paint and lay up the ball or take a shot at the very last second to avoid Berkeley from getting another chance at scoring. Sometimes you hated the pressure, but you've also learned that a big part of playing ball was thriving under pressure.

Your team closes up the huddle before you and your teammates are heading back out onto the floor to try and get this win. You shake off the nerves, bouncing the ball out of bounds until you check it in with your teammate. After that— it was like a blur. Shit happened so quick, you couldn't even process it. You passed the ball and dashed over to the other side of the court while your teammate put up a screen. You rose your hand as you ran into the paint, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you awkwardly lay up the ball in the position you were in and stumble onto the ground from losing your footing. You turn your head as the buzzer went off, noticing that the ball had bounced off the rim.

You missed a fucking lay up.

How could you miss a fucking lay up?

"Fuck!" You cry as you sit up and smack the floor.

"Aye, it's all good girl! Ain't a big deal! You win some, you lose some! We still got a ways to go!" Your teammate [roommate, and closest college friend] Clarice said as she helped you up. She was right, but every loss to you was a big loss no matter what. Coach was for sure gonna drill you about this too, and you were already mentally preparing.

"Thanks." You mumble. You look out at the disappointed crowd slowly dispersing, wishing you could still catch a familiar face in the crowd.

But, Yoongi hadn't been to your game in years. So you thought. You never caught him if he ever stepped foot into your game.

Your head hung low as the familiar feeling of pain and loneliness came rushing back while you headed to the locker room. Too bad you didn't see him hiding out on the side of the bleachers with Lucas.

"Y/N, a word." Coach Chu says, leading you into his office.

Fuck, here we go.

You shut the door behind you and stand awkwardly in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers.

"Look, I just want to say that you put on hell of a show tonight, win or lose. We still have plenty of games left, plenty of opportunities to lock in play-offs. Alright? Don't be upset."

"Thanks Coach." You give him a tiny smile.

"Are you doing okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I think so."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing coach, just been a hectic couple of weeks." In which, it was no lie. You crammed for test after test, project after project. You barely had any time to breathe this year.

"Well, my door is always open if you need to chat." You nod. "I'll see you at practice. Enjoy your night."

"Thanks again." You say as you exit his office and get yourself showered and into comfier clothes.

Meanwhile, Yoongi heads back to his dorm room alongside Lucas, hands dug deep into his pockets while his head hung low.

"You ever gonna talk to her?"

"I don't know." He sighs. "Pretty sure I fucked up any chance of that."

"Look, dude. You haven't really been the same since you and Y/N fell out." Yoongi stays silent as they slowly climb the steps up to their room. "Why are you just gonna leave it like this? It's been so long already. Doesn't it bother you?"

"Positive she doesn't want me around." Lucas shakes his head.

"You haven't even tried. You just gave up and that shit is cold, to be honest. I know Y/N always held it down for you, I would have expected you to do the same." The words cut through Yoongi so deep, he doesn't even know how to respond and leaves it at that.

As you heavily dragged your body back to the dorms and took your sweet ol' time, your mind began to wander back to Yoongi as well. After he had taken your virginity that night, things took a turn for the worst.

He treated you differently, created this distance that allowed you to grow farther and farther apart from each other until he was no longer in your grasp and vice versa.

You went from Yoongi being a part of your every day to nothing. And fuck, did it hurt you. You cried and cried, until you were so tired of crying. You had to pick yourself up and keep it moving no matter what. Life waits for nobody.

You reminisce on those days of debating over who could really be considered the greatest. Although, you did pay your respects to the bigs, the greats— Kobe, Magic, MJ, Lebron— you paid respect where it was rightfully due. However, Derrick Rose at his prime? Rajon Rondo? Chris Paul?

Hell, even Baron Davis, Monte Ellis. Rookie Steph Curry? Shiiit. They were it for you, and Yoongi used to dog your ass on how unrealistic you were being.

That was all gone.

He must be having a ball watching Steph climb up those charts now, though. You wonder what he would say to you.

The days of going to basketball games, to each other's basketball games, to ordering hella pizza and creating chaos in either house over the dunk contest during the NBA All Star Week or yelling all around the living room and jumping on couches during the NBA playoff season and championship games— All gone.

If you knew this would drastically change you and Yoongi, you would have never let that night happen. You continued to put on your brave face, your thick, tough skin even though deep down, it took everything in you to suppress the hurt, betrayal and confusion. Even after all these years.

He meant everything to you. Did you not to him? You could never understand until this day. How could he dispose of you so, so quickly?

You see him on campus and quickly break any eye contact, or run the opposite way. You were tired of doing this even though you felt like you needed closure. Some explanation. You deserved it. But you weren't gonna initiate that. Even if Yoongi did, you don't even know if things could ever go back to the way it was. He promised he would never hurt you, but he has. He still is hurting you. The wounds— it cut deep. Deeper than he could ever imagine.

"Hello?" You smile, hearing your dad on the other line.

"Hey dad."

"Hey baby! How was your game? I'm sorry I couldn't catch it tonight, work kept me behind." You sigh.

"Eh, it's probably good you didn't. Didn't turn out so well." He picks up on how your voice cracks ever so slightly, enough to indicate that you were trying your hardest not to break down about your performance. "I missed the winning shot."

"Oh sweetheart, you'll get 'em next time. You always do. You still have a couple of games left don't you?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that I played shitty as hell tonight."

"There's always room for improvement, only way to go is up from here right?" He says softly, making you smile. "You'll get 'em next time, I have no doubt. You always know how to better yourself even when I think you've already reached your highest potential."

"Thanks Dad. You always were my number one fan."

"I still am." He chuckles. "How's everything else? School?"

"Fine." He always has to stop himself from asking about Yoongi, even to ask if there's been the slightest change to your relationship.

"You sure?"

"Course." You lie.

"Alright, well you know me and your mom are here for you if you need anything."

"I know."

"I'll let you go and get some rest, alright? Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Mmm, I'll try." You chuckle. "I love you."

"Love you too. And hey, baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Always remember that you deserve everything good in this world. If someone can't handle you at your worse, they sure as hell don't deserve you at your best."

"Thank you." You smile as if your dad can see you through the phone before hanging up and unlocking your dorm door.

"Sigma Nu party going on tonight, wanna come and slide through?" Clarice asks as she watches you toss your duffle aside.

"I'm tired, not in the mood."

"So aren't I, but I think we both need it. Come on girl, just for a little." You sigh. Clarice had also been there by your side since you both were freshmen recruits. One day, she came into the room and found you a crying mess, causing her to wrap her arms around you and craddle you until you calmed down. You had spilled the beans about Min Yoongi, especially when he quickly became the talk of the campus as a ladies man and one of the best freshmen recruits Stanford has ever seen. You hated it, but a part of you still found yourself happy that he was getting the recognition he deserved as a ball player.

He wasn't the tallest, or the biggest, but boy had heart and played every game like it was his last. You had been his number one fan, and even though you hated him, that fact would never change.

Anyways, without Clarice, you weren't sure where you'd be. Definitely not here because you'd be too busy running away from your past and all the issues that came with it.

Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and say it. You would be stupid enough to not go to your first choice just because of a stupid boy.

"Fine, fine. I'm leaving as soon as someone wants to start acting up and getting all crazy though."

"Deal." She chuckles. You've learned how to dress up a little more— and by a little we mean baggy sweats, a crop tight fitting tee and chapstick. No way in hell you'd get dolled up for a party. Out of the years you've already been here, you probably went to two parties. One being the party Coach Chu threw at his house for a record-breaking season. The other was a legit party that you stepped foot in for all of 2 seconds before you figured it was time to head home, especially after seeing Yoongi hugged up with some chick and disgustingly tonguing her down while groping her ass.

Shit, you were never gonna get used to it.

The frat house is fucking packed and wreaks of weed even down the corner. You and Clarice push your way through, greeting people who were acknowledging your presence and waving at your other teammates that were also present.

"More basketball babes have arrived, let's go!" One of the frat guys cheers as you and Clarice make your way to the kitchen where all the alcohol is laid out.

"One shot?" She asks as she already has her hand wrapped around the Svedka handle.

"One and done." You tell her. You shouldn't have let her pour the shot though because now, you're stuck with nasty ass vodka near the halfway mark of the cup. "Clarice, what the fuck is this?"

"It's called savoring our one."

"You're fucked up." You joked as you tap your cup against hers and take the shot in three chugs. "Really fucked up." You wince.

"Come, lets go see what the other girls are up to and hang out for a bit." You follow her lead to the corner of the living room, chatting it up with your team before dancing around in the little corner you all occupied— keeping as far away as possible from sloppy and messy dudes.

You turned to eye the crowd at some point, catching Yoongi coming down the stairs, a female following from behind holding his hand. Then, they disappear to the outside of the house. You swallow the lump in your throat, the room feeling hotter than it already was.

Why he still had this affect on you, you had no idea.

Clarice and your teammates are too busy cracking jokes that they don't realize you've slipped away to get some air. You're finding that the crowd has come bigger in the short amount of time you've been here and navigating through it has become difficult. You're having to bob, weave and shove your way out, letting out a sigh the closer you get to the front of the house. You're also really glad you've been able to steer clear from—

"Shit, my bad." You unintentionally bump into someone making your way to the front from the side of the house due to you keeping your head low.

"Y/N?" You whip your head around to see Yoongi raising a brow, dropping his arm from the same chick's shoulders.

"Hi." You give him a fake, tight-lipped smile and rush your way to the front of the house. Thank god you finally make it because you were starting to feel claustrophobic, even being outside. However, you weren't prepared for Yoongi to come after you and grab your wrist the way he did.

"Wait, I didn't expect you to be here." Out of defense, you quickly snatch your wrist away from his grip and furrow your brows at him.

"Yeah, and now I'm leaving."

"Why, hang out for a bit—"

"And what, Yoongi? Watch you be the life of the party? Watch you walk around all fine and dandy like shit never happened between us?" You feel the tears welling up on your bottom lids, but you promised yourself you would never cry over him again. You refuse to. He had already taken up so much of you that you refuse to give him any more.

"Is that what you really think?" He says, the hurt apparent in his expression. To be frank, no. Yoongi really, really never meant to hurt you. And just like he had mentioned before, he would never forgive himself if he ever hurt you. He hasn't forgiven himself. He hasn't forgiven himself for how he let you slip out of his grasp when it was his own fault for pushing aside his feelings for you. He thought the world of you, the only woman who kept it real with him and stuck by him through the highest of highs, lowest of lows. There was no one as special as you, no one who could ever be as special as you, no matter how many times he tried to sink his dick into other females.

No one was real like you.

But, he was also conflicted because of that. He felt like he couldn't give you the love you rightfully deserved, he didn't think he could love you properly. He had so much to learn and he didn't wanna hurt you in the process. It sounds so fucking stupid [because it is] that he thought distancing himself was better than just being honest. He was a dumbass high schooler, he didn't know any better. But, he never meant to make you feel special for one night, then run from it. You were always special to him. You had always been. You always will be. And these past years hurt like a bitch, but he coudn't find the words to explain. Eventually, he just believed he would do less damage if you both remained distant this way.

Although, he longed for you. He really needed you just as you needed him. He always has, always will.

So when the two of you bump into each other tonight, he felt like maybe, it was a sign. Maybe it was time to stop being childish.

God, he missed your face.

God, he was a fucking asshole.

"No, I'm not doing this shit." You shake your head. "Just— continue to stay away from me, okay? I'm better off without you." The words sting you, but it doesn't sting you as much as it stings Yoongi. You glare at him once more before you turn on your heel and begin walking down the street to head back to your dorm.

"Y/N! Wait up!" Clarice calls for you, eyeing Yoongi as she passes him to catch up with you down the street. "Hey, hey. You okay?" She swings her arm around you when she catches you silently crying to yourself. "What did he do, Y/N?"

"He fucking exists, that's what." You groan. "Ugh, fuck! I'm not supposed to be crying over his dumbass, I'm better than this Clarice— Why the fuck am I crying over it?" You break down, crouching down to your knees, causing Clarice to hover over you and pull you into a hug.

"Maybe you just need to let it out and stop forcing yourself to not feel anything."

"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him." You bawled into your arms. "I hate him so much." She caressed your back. "But he still finds a way to mean so much to me."

"I think it's time for you two to talk."

"I can't. It's just better this way."

"Are you sure? Because look at you, Y/N. You're a mess, and this hasn't even been the first time you broke down about him. As much as you want to believe that you're fine without him, you're not. He was your bestfriend and I think you need him more than you even know yourself."

"He's doing fine without me."

"You don't know that, baby. Dudes are annoying as fuck because they can literally go on about their day and mask that shit well. If he's ready, let him explain. Hear him out. You both may be misunderstanding the entire situation." It takes you a good minute before you can finally gather yourself and make it back to your dorm room with Clarice.

She was right.

But you were so angry more than anything. You were angry and you weren't sure how you could get past it.

He left your side. 

And so the next day, you go about your day in class, staying quieter than usual during practice. For the most part, Coach Chu was always on your ass because of how vocal you were and how much you caught an attitude when things didn’t go the way you'd like it to. So, to see you this quiet, almost sullen even, concerns him. But, he already pressed you once and he wasn't gonna do it again to avoid irritating you any further.

You run the usual conditioning drills, practicing play by play before a final scrimmage game for the night. You push yourself hard like you always do, almost coming out of practice dry heaving from how tired you are. It was your bad habit though, you wouldn't quit until you got it right. Until you felt right. And unfortunately, it's another one of those nights where you feel unsatisfied with your performance. So, you take it upon yourself to continue practicing in the empty gym that was set to close within the next hour. You're tired out of your mind, and you know this is probably a bad idea, but you can't shake off the feeling of dissatisfaction. To you, that was the next worst thing. Right behind Yoongi.

You begin to work on your three pointers, lay ups and shots out of range before you start to play a scrimmage game with yourself.

"I'll play you." You suddenly hear, the sweat beads dripping down your forehead at this point. You watch Yoongi as he drops his water bottle off at the side of the court before walking over to you.

"Go away."

"Afraid you'll lose?"

"No, I just don't wanna play your ass." You shot up the ball, only for it to bounce off the backboard and land in Yoongi's hand.

"Ball up. Let's play till 10."

"Why the hell do you wanna play me, Yoongi? Don't you have a random chick to bone?"

"I'm clearly standing right in front of you aren't I? Quit fucking talking and play." He aggressively passes you the ball to check it in, you following suit, making the ball damn near bounce off of his chest with how hard you pass it back. He knew exactly how to rile you up.

You get into the zone quickly, trying to find some kind of redemption for the way you had been feeling lately. Redemption, validation, way to take the edge off— anything, really. It was only until the first person scored to 10, but Yoongi was putting up one hell of a fight, jet black hair parted down the middle and matted to his forehead from the sweat building up. You take the lead, sitting at 8 while Yoongi sat at a sad 6 points.

"Ball." You call out as you scored a layup, ramming yourself against the padded wall with the force you had put up.

"That's 10."

"Ball, Yoongi." You huffed and puffed.

"Stop, don't overwork yourself. You just got—"

"Suddenly you care? Stop being a pussy and pass me the goddamn ball." He furrows his brows as he passes you the ball, crouching down to meet you at eye level to try and guard you. You run towards the right of the court, pulling a pump fake before you pivot to get away from Yoongi's guard. You pivot hard and drive it up to the basket, only to fall on the wrong footing and twist your ankle on the way down. "Ouch, fuck!"

"Shit, Y/N!" Yoongi comes to your side, hand supporting your back as the other is on your ankle.

"I'm fine, leave me—"

"Stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you." He says angrily. You don't say anything else while you fix your position on the floor. "Can you wiggle it at least?"

"Y-yeah." You wince as you wiggle your foot and roll it around a couple of times. Phew, at least this shit wasn't gone for good. But Coach Chu still wouldn't be happy to hear you sprained your ankle releasing your anger on Yoongi during a dumb game. Yoongi helps you stand, arm around your waist as he throws your arm around his neck and holds you steady by the wrist.

"Try walking on it."

"I can, but it hurts a little." Yoongi sighs.

"You just sprained it. Let's go get you some ice or something at the nursing center before going back to your dorm." You silently nod as you hang onto Yoongi for extra support, careful not to make the situation any worse than it already is. He has you sit on the chair within the nursing center, the nurse coming over to wrap your ankle nicely before giving you crutches and some instant hot compress to pop onto it. She orders for security to drive you two over to the dorm building in their go-cart so that you wouldn't have to do much walking on your foot while you focused on healing.

Yoongi doesn't leave your side, even after you've walked into your dark, empty dorm room, not really knowing where Clarice is at right now [possibly library]. He shuts your door and sits you on the edge of your bed, setting your crutches near your bed side and your instant hot compress.

"You need anything else?" Your head hangs low as you slightly chuckle and shake your head.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask him lowly before looking back up at him, tears clouding your vision. "Hm? Why, Yoongi?"

"You're hurt, why wouldn't I—"

"Hmm." You hum. "I'm hurt? So where the fuck were you after prom night? When I was hurt then, where the fuck have you been?" You began to cry.

"Y/N." His tongue swipes over his lips before he sighs. "I'm sorry." He says, close to a whisper.

"Are you? Because I don't think you really understand how bad you hurt me." You aggressively wipe away your tears while continuing to look at him, his body language soft and full of regret. "You didn't care about me."

"How could you say that? I cared—" He sighs as his head drops for a second. "I care about you more than you know."

"If you did then why the fuck was it so easy for you to drop me the way you did?!" You yelled. "You just don't do that to the people you care about, especially if it’s your bestfriend."

"Look, you're right. I have no excuse for the way I acted, and if I could turn back time to re-do it, I would. But I can't, and the only thing I can do is apologize and do my best to make it up to you." His bottom lip trembles as he steps closer to you, a small frown forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Yoongi." You cried. "I did everything for you, I stuck by you through everything, even during the times you didn't deserve that shit from me. But I stayed! I stood by you because you meant everything to me and god—" You groaned. "I needed you. I needed you and you weren't there! I fucking hate you for doing this shit to me but part of me will always have love for you no matter how fucked up the situation is. I will always drop everything for you. I will always care about you, and it's so unfair." It broke Yoongi's heart and he didn't know what to say, but he wraps his arms around you anyway, keeping you in a tight hug against his chest. He's surprised that you let him, even more surprised at how he feels your body soften under his touch.

"Fuck, I'm so, so sorry bub." He says lowly as he presses a kiss on top of your head. "I'm so sorry."

"Please don't ever go again." You cry against his chest.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna be right here." He says hugging you tighter. "You're the only one who's ever understood me, who's ever kept it real with me. I don't deserve you, but I know damn sure I'll work hard to make up for letting you go in the first place." He places another kiss on top of your head. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere. I'm so sorry."

- - -

5.

4.

3.

2.

1.

"THE STANFORD BOYS TAKE THE CHAMPIONSHIP!" The commentator screams into his mic, Yoongi running a lap around the court before he's cheering loudly with his teammates and joining the group hug. You run down the bleachers, dashing straight into Yoongi's arms while he swings you around.

"That's what I'm fucking talking about!" You squeal and giggle as Yoongi places you back down and plants multiple kisses around your face, hands resting on the small of your back.

"Let's get out of here." He whispers in your ear.

"I'll wait at your car, bighead." You wink, causing him to smile that gummy smile of his that you adore more than life itself.

There's obviously a huge party going on tonight to celebrate this huge achievement, but Yoongi says he doesn't wanna join for once. He's happy, yeah. But the way he wants to celebrate is in peace. After so long, he feels like he can finally say he's content with where his life is at and where it's going. He drives over to the nearest beach, backing into a space so the both of you could sit in the back and try catching all the shooting stars up above. Yoongi leans against the side of the trunk, allowing you to lay your head on his lap while you curled up beside him listening to the waves slowly crash against the sand.

"Saw one." He says, looking up at the sky.

"You're a punk, no you didn't."

"What?" He laughs. "How are you about to say that? I caught it with my own two eyes."

"Oop! I saw one!"

"Now that's a lie. I was looking up too."

"Shut up." You laugh, causing Yoongi to tickle you along the sides before he stops and plants a kiss on your lips. It's silent for a minute while the two of you take in the night view— The sky and ocean coming together as one, forming a view that seemed endless.

"Hey."

"Hm?" You hum as Yoongi's fingers gently brush through your hair.

"You know I love you right?"

"Ew with the sappy shit, Min Yoongi." He laughs.

"Seriously."

"I know." You smile up at him. "I love you too."

"Come here." He says softly, tugging you upwards. You sit up, allowing Yoongi to press his lips against yours. He pulls you in by your shirt, having you straddle his lap while he grips onto your hips and immediately grinds against you. You let out a small moan feeling how quickly he hardened, his cock hitting you in the right places as you continue to grind on him. "Fuck, wanna feel you babygirl."

"Here?"

"Yeah." He chuckles and bites onto his bottom lip.

"What, all of a sudden you're scared?"

"Fuck off." You fire back, releasing his hardened member from its confines as you stroke him gently. He tilts his head back in pleasure before tugging your shorts and panties to the side, enough for him to cop a feel of how wet you are.

"Baby's all wet."

"What're you gonna do about it?" You whisper against his lips, biting onto his bottom lip and pulling back slightly. He hisses at the sensation before he moves your hand from his cock and takes control. He pushes you upward, positioning you enough to line up with your entrance.

"Take this shit off."

"Yoongi, we're in public."

"So, you're all talk and no play."

"I hate you."

"Nobody's here." He groans. "Just take off your shorts, pleeease." He begs as he slowly strokes himself. You toss aside your shorts, Yoongi immediately hooking his finger at the bottom of your panties and tugging it aside in order to push himself into you. He does enough before he lets you do the rest of the work and sink down on his length, a gasp leaving your throat as you take all of him in. He grips your hips tightly, setting the pace as he groans into your neck, your fingers tangled in his hair resting at the nape of his neck.

"Shit, babe." You moan as you tilt your head back.

"Fuck, you always ride me so well." He presses light kisses against your neck before he's nipping at the surface.

"Godddd why do you feel so good?" You whimper.

"You like how I feel inside of you?" You nod. "Yeah? Like how my cock fills you up?"

"Never gonna get tired of it." You moan, Yoongi making you pick up the pace aggressively. Besides the waves crashing, the lewd noises of skin slapping against skin fills the car, along with your soft moans and Yoongi's groans. Your clit is constantly rubbing against him, causing the pleasure to build so quickly it becomes overwhelming. You try to hold off as much as you can but—

"My pretty baby. All I fucking need." He almost growls, the words enough to send you over the edge. You let out a loud moan, not even caring for the houses nearby as your orgasm hits hard and ripples throughout your body, sending aftershocks. Yoongi continues to have you ride him fast and hard, the overwhelming sensation causing a hint of pain to mix with more pleasure until  you feel him feel you up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He groans as his nails dig into your skin, giving two good thrusts upwards into you to help ride out his high. You both sit in the position for a minute, trying to come back down from your highs. Yoongi gives you a delicate peck on the lips, smiling into the kiss before he pulls away. "Swear you're all I need."

"See, I don't know if I could say the same." He smacks your ass as you hike up and off of him to put on your shorts.

"Take it back."

"I'm kidding." You blush.

"My ride or die. Are you with me?"

"Always have been. Are you?"

"You know I am."

"Good. You know it takes two." He smiles before pulling you into another hug and pressing a kiss against your temple.

[blackcherrykiss]

BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.5)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4]  previous chapters

[CH.6] next chapter (now available!)

genre: vampire au, romance, drama, mystery, thriller

note: written inspired by enhypen's storyline, given-taken lyrics & teasers. please keep in mind all members are apart of this fanfic and the main theme is mystery/drama!

P.S Niki and Sunoo's roles become bigger in later chapters :) sorry I took 2 weeks to update. School + new enhypen teasers made me alter the story now jesus their lore is confusingly interesting. Didn't proofread half of this chapter LOL. Happy readings <3

"Well now that everyone is here, I'd like to announce we have a new student who just transferred here." Your eyes were immediately drawn to the student's platinum blonde hair. Despite his sharp and charismatic face, his eyes were delicate and innocent. He had an exceptionally small face and a sunkissed skin tone. The new student snapped himself around so that the entire classroom got a good look at him, "Hello, my name is Park Jongseong or Jay, call me whatever you feel." He bowed slightly, his voice having a cool ring that played over in your head.

"Everybody please welcome Jay to our astronomy class. Lend him any of our previous notes because midterms are coming up and I'd appreciate as a teacher if you guys helped him catch up before our long weekend coming up in two weeks." Your teacher gave a warm smile, nodding in such a way that made the rest of the class nod with her.

Without a student saying a word, everyone's eyes followed him as he took a seat at a desk a couple of rows in front of you.

You stared at him tirelessly, barely listening as your teacher rambled off-topic. You noticed Jay often stared out at the crying sky that occasionally flickered with lightning. His eyes focused intently on the woods. You were sure you weren't the only one who was interested in the new boy as you frequently caught other students glancing over at him every few seconds. Jay carried an attractive and dark aura that clearly contrasted from the crowd. Both girls and boys stared at him not because of his pretty face but because he was far different from the new students who had joined your school mid-semester.

The class flew by for you because of Jay until a simple but intriguing question was purposed by the teacher, "Bonus marks today if anyone can guess when the next full moon is." she lifted her eyes off the projector for a few moments, waiting for answers to come sailing.

"Saturday?" Somebody from the front called out, followed by numerous answers that ranged between the second week to the fourth week of the month.

"Come on now. Don't blurt out, give others chances to guess. Jay why don't you guess?" Your teacher questioned welcomingly, expecting no answer from him.

He leaned back in his chair, scraping the non-writing end of his ballpen on his thumb, "November 30." A gentle sound of thunder playing perfectly when he said the answer; like some sort of scene out of a comic.

"Ding ding ding!" Your teacher switched to a PowerPoint slide with the new unit name bolded, "I know this isn't part of the curriculum but I got it approved by the head of the school." She took a breath, giving students time to comprehend what was presented in front of them. "Our next unit will be looking deeper at the moon. More specifically, we'll be looking at both the sciency and non-sciency sides of this topic. And before anyone asks; no, you don't need to believe in astrology or superstitions to understand the non-sciency material. It's just very fascinating because it connects to many cultures." Your attention was now far away from Jay. You were enthusiastic about a topic for once in the class.

"And looks like we're running out of time." Your teacher's wrist clock blocking her eyes. "That's it for today's class everyone! I'll have your projects marked for next class, I promise! Have a good day." She said while shutting off the projector.

You slid all your handouts into your binder, not bothering to align the three-hole punches of the papers to their designated rings.

"Y/N before you go, do you mind helping out Jay? Today or tomorrow?" Your teacher stopped you on your way out.

"Like lend him my notes?"

"Yep! I just forgot to ask but he just left so you might be able to catch up to him. Maybe ask if he's got the notes yet."

You waved your goodbyes and chased the new boy down, his uniquely blonde hair standing out from the hallway of heads. You picked up the pace to catch up with his swift steps when you caught him chatting with Sunghoon and Jaeyun. Your feet froze straight down in their place.

Were they new friends? Or perhaps they were old friends?

You weren't going to bother talking to Jay as you already knew what kind of funny business would come up if you did. You could only watch them swing and lean their arms against each other in a close and friendly way. The picture was becoming more and more clear to you as to what kind of association Jay had with Sunghoon and Jaeyun perhaps even Heeseung, Sunoo or Jungwon.

...

You throw yourself violently over your thick mattress after finishing a long study and homework session at your dorm. The session wasn't productive but the time you spent surrounded by your schoolwork made it feel that way. Your dorm was awfully quiet that afternoon as your dormmates had music rehearsals for their extracurriculars. Nana had told you to come by the music rooms around a quarter past five when their practice was over to go down to the dining hall and have dinner but you couldn't think of a way to kill your remaining hour alone.

Phones were forbidden in your school and you often felt uncontrollably alone and bored with your thoughts during your free time. You could only lay tangled in your bed with your half progressed work in the corner of your eye. You shift on one side to watch your wide-open binder until you got some burst of motivation to finish studying until an idea hits you.

After eyeing your handouts from your astronomy class, you decide to hit the library and do some reading to get a little advanced in the class. Sure you could study for your other class but the sudden idea was far more worth your time in your mind. You quickly twirl out of your room, clearing your desk while you're at it. Excitedly, you hop into your shoes and head straight for the library. You were put in a good mood as you skipped along the long journey to the bookhouse.

The library was moderately packed as you don't bother to recognize any faces there. You get deja vu as you trail the same path you did when Sunghoon and Kyungeun were around. Sliding between the thin space between the bookshelves once again, you search for the section related to the moon, feeling dizzy at the sight of books your school owned. You could've made your life easier by asking the librarian but you were confident you could find it on your own. You move up and down the aisles as you catch a glimpse of theoretical and astrology related books that sit next to a couple of history books.

Backing up, you awkwardly bend your knees forward to get a better look at the small selection of books under the genre. You peel a random book spine out from its tight spot as if it had never been taken out before. You dust off the book a bit, reading the wordless cover and open it to check if it was really related to any sort of astronomy as you find a much stranger subject being discussed.

"Finding everything alright?" The librarian comes by, pushing a kart from the other end of the shelves. "I-I'm looking for books related to the moon." You say, standing up and forgetting you still had the old book in hand.

"The scientific information is just on the other side of this shelf but the section you were just looking at has some interesting stuff that might be related." The librarian stuffed herself in between the shelves to get toward you.

"Yeah, I noticed... This book I just picked up was talking about vampires." You laugh a little as you hold it up.

"Ah, that book..." She paused, snatching the book out of your hands to examine it, "I read this before... It relates to astrology. I think there are some parts of the book that go into detail about the moon, you should give it a read."

"Is this book just theoretical research about vampires though?" You were unconvinced with the idea.

"Yeah, real or not, our school grounds and the neighbouring town are talked about in the book. Apparently many years ago this place used to be a hotspot for vampires."  She looked you dead in the eyes.

"Do you think the information is true?" You questioned with deep curiosity upon her answer.

"Some information in there is haunting. I think vampires did exist." She said with some sort of distress beginning to seep into her face.

Shivers ran down your spine, if she was just trying to sell you the book, it was working damn well on you.

"I'll leave you be, no need to sign out the book, nobody ever takes it out so I trust you'll return it." And with that said, she left you cold with mystery as the book between your fingers stared at you with big round eyes.

You shake back to reality, checking your wrist just to find out your time has vanished. You shift your priorities to getting to the music department, throwing the book into your bag without much thought.

...

The sun was already going down around the afternoon as the days got shorter with autumn blossoming. You're standing between rooms full of beautiful voices and instruments, peering through every window attached to a door in an attempt to find your roommates. The issue was the widows didn't give much of a view as to who was in the rooms. But your ears were drawn to a gentle piano that played a bittersweet melody beneath the louder sounds of people singing in a harmonious glee. As you move in the forward direction of the hallway, the piano gets clearer to your ears. It became clear that the sound was coming out of a room with its door wide open. Your back attached it to the wall in fear of being seen as slide yourself until you meet the spine of the door where you could see into the shadowy room.

Your eyes lit up when they see a familiar platinum blondie behind the keys. The melody was enchanting and was played in such a personal way as the sounds escaped into the noisy environment where it hoped to go unheard. Jay had reached the final notes of his song as he turned his head in your direction. It was as if he knew of your present from the moment you started watching him from the doorway.

[chandelier-s-notebook]

Hey look it’s chap 2! They won’t all come out today I promise.

(Also the other characters tagged appear later in this chapter after the :readmore: this isn’t cross tagged for publicity purposes)

Let me know if you wanna get tagged when I post new chapters in “These Streets Are Made For Walking”. @sleepysnails.

Ao3 Link

-------------------------

After school, Dream, George, and Sapnap tossed their bags into Techno’s trunk. Technically, he and Dream did have PowerPoint projects to complete, but it was a solo project and he already finished it at lunch.

Snagging the shotgun seat, Sapnap cheered, “To the mall!”

Techno grimaced. At least Sapnap was excited.

Actually, there was one good thing that came from them: friendship. Techno had met Dream at one of these mall fights while they went to different middle schools, then they ended up at the same high school and started to drag Dream’s other friends to them. Techno didn’t mind George and Sapnap, they were just more Dream’s friends than his.

Techno drove them out of the city, and they cruised down the highway for twenty minutes before pulling off to the exit towards the abandoned mall.

“I’ve never understood why this shit happens right after school,” George said.

Dream answered him, “It’s because the cops think this stuff happens at night. They don’t think to look for this stuff during the day.”

“Plus, there’s a lot more of the other stuff going on, so they’re busy.”

“Why do you know that, Sapnap?”

“Reasons.”

Techno rolled his eyes at the trio, and pulled the first aid kit and his backpack out of the trunk. “I’m gonna stay in the car today.” He handed the box to George. “Math homework due tomorrow,” he explained.

“Ah man. That’s too bad,” Dream said, stretching out his arms. “More practice for me.”

“Maybe you’ll even beat me next time,” Techno joked.

Dream wheezed, and Sapnap had to push him away towards the building.

Techno got back in his car, cranked the radio, and blasted the AC, shutting the windows tight. Throwing the bag into the seat next to him, Techno pulled out his binder, and opened it to a fresh piece of graph paper. Study time lasted all of forty minutes before the sirens rang out.

“Snitch,” he muttered to himself. He slumped down in his seat, and pulled out his phone. He debated who to text before deciding that George was least likely to be busy at any given moment.

Techno Got snitched Cops in lot

George Fuck Dream says leave Drop our stuff at Bad’s Drop Tubbo with Punz

Techno Roger

A squad of four cars descended on the parking lot. Most of the officers stormed the mall, but three stayed behind. Two began making their rounds around the parking lot, but--of course--the other was left behind to secure the entrance. It was standard procedure, so Techno wasn’t very surprised to see this happening.

Techno made the decision to continue doing his homework rather than try to get away. He tossed his phone on the passenger seat and turned the radio off.

He was calm. He was cool. He was doing his math homework. He was rolling down the window when prompted by a tap on the glass.

“Captain Craft,” the officer stated.

“Pleasure,” Techno responded.

“License and registration.”

Techno grabbed his wallet from his backpack and gave Captain Craft his license. He leaned over to the glove box to grab his car’s registration. “Afternoon Sir,” he muttered, handing over his paperwork.

“Techno Blade? Unique name.”

Techno snorted at the officer’s attempt at small talk. “Was born with it, I'm afraid.”

“That’s cool.” He handed Techno back his paperwork. “What are you doing here?”

Techno gestured to the paper in his lap. “Homework. Got a calculus test next week.”

“Smart kid.” Captain Craft was writing things down in his notebook. “Do you know why the police were called to this location?”

“No Sir.”

“What brings you here?”

“A quiet space to work, the foster home gets really loud. Normally this place is empty.”

“Normally it is,” Captain Craft agreed. “So you don’t know anything about a potential drug deal?”

The surprise on Techno’s face was genuine. Yeah this was an illegal ring, but drug deals? Really? “No Sir. I’m just doing my homework.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah,” Techno said, not playing the officer’s game.

Captain Craft leaned back to look at the backseat.

Techno had never been more thankful that Dream, Sapnap, and George liked throwing their stuff in the trunk for more leg room in the backseat.

Captain Craft patted the car. “Well. I feel comfortable letting you go free kid. Clearly you have nothing to do with this.”

“No Sir.”

“Techno Blade was it?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Do you have a number we could potentially call if need be?”

Now, Techno would have loved to give the officer his home number--giving the police a direct line of contact with his cell didn’t sound good--but that was a horrible idea. One of the other kids would pick up the phone, and they’d talk. Or the Foster Bitch would pick up, and she’d just cuss out the poor person who called. “Yeah. Let me get you my cell number.”

Captain Craft scribed the number down in his notebook. He flipped the page and ripped off the next page. “Doctor’s note to get you out of the parking lot.”

Techno snorted as he grabbed the paper. “Thanks.”

Techno shifted the car into reserve and pulled out of his parking spot. He drove towards the checkpoint and didn’t roll up the window until the officer standing guard approved his departure.

Techno arrived at Sapnap and Bad’s house. He pulled into the parking spot in the apartment’s garage that Bad paid for, so Sapnap’s friends could leave their cars when they came over. He grunted in annoyance at the weight of the three backpacks; there also wasn’t a convenient way to carry three backpacks. He rode the elevator up to the first floor and buzzed Bad’s apartments.

“Who’s there?” Bad’s voice crackles through the intercom.

“Techno, I’m here for delivery and pickup.”

Bad laughed.. “Hi Techno, they’re in the middle of something so it’ll be a little while.” The buzzer sounds and Techno steps into the room, taking the elevator to Bad’s floor, which was unreasonably high. How was Sapnap supposed to climb through the window late at night at this height?

Although Techno was required to have someone buzz him in, he conveniently had his own key for the door, and could use that. Techno couldn’t be bothered to remember which room was Sapnap’s, but he knew where the guest room was, so he tossed all their stuff in there.

“Hi Bad. Have any snacks?” Techno asked, entering the kitchen. Mario Kart sounds floated over from the living room. “It’s time to go home!” Techno called out to the kids.

“Why?” Tommy yelled back.

“Because. Also Tubbo, Dream said that I’m dropping you off with Purpled at Punz’s place.”

“Oh.” Techno could hear the way Tubbo’s face fell. “He got into something again?”

Techno took the plate of sandwiches from Bad and brought them out to the boys. He gave Tubbo a tight smile. “Apparently, but he’ll be fine.”

Once the boys finished their game--Ranboo won--they all bid Bad adieu and head back for Techno’s car. The boys and their backpacks file in. Tommy sat up front; Tubbo situated himself on the middle hump, and Purpled and Ranboo arranged their legs accordingly.

He let the boys karaoke on the way to Punz’s place. They were very loud, but it helps that he didn’t have to worry about where he was going, as he is far more familiar with these streets than he would have liked to be.

Techno pulls into the driveway. “Get out.”

“Thanks for the drive Blade!” Tubbo said, following Purpled out of the backseat.

“Good luck!” Ranboo yelled after them, stretching his legs into the newfound space he had at his disposal.

“Stay safe!” Tommy shouted, only half joking. “Let’s get out of here.”

Techno pulled out of the area once Tubbo and Purpled had made it into the house. He then drove them out of the slums to the richer areas of the city where Ranboo lived. He parked the car in Ranboo’s cul de sac.

“This is my stop,” Ranboo said lowly.

“This is your stop.” After a few minutes of silence Techno spoke again. “You gonna get out?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Ranboo opened the door. “Thanks for the ride!” He pushed it shut once outside and walked up the lawn to his manor.

Tommy waved goodbye to his friend then turned to look straight ahead. “Let’s go back now.”

“Are you still mad at me for hanging out with Dream?”

Tommy didn’t respond.

Techno pressed on the gas and brought the car back to the main road. “I’m allowed to have friends, kid. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Then stop. Stop defending yourself. You don’t need my approval.”

“When did you get older than me?”

“When you started hanging out with kids who get put in the newspaper for petty crimes!”

“I’ve been hanging out with Dream since long before you even got here.”

“And? People change. Little Dream isn't big Dream!”

“I know who my friends are,” Techno bit.

“I hope you do. Because Tubbo is having a sleepover with Purpled which means Dream isn’t home. And you were there. So what happened?”

All of Techno’s pent up energy left his body, and he fell into a steely expression. “Nothing.”

“Something happened! Why isn’t Dream home?”

Techno turned on the radio.

“Tell me bitch boy!”

“Do you want to eat tonight?” Techno shouted back at him, turning to face him directly now that they were stopped at a red light.

Tommy’s eyes were wide. He had one hand on his seat belt buckle and one on the door handle. He was as pressed away from Techno as he could get in the car. He was holding his breath and his body was tense. “Please,” he whimpered.

Techno tensed up as well. He had gone too far. He knew he had gone too far. That wasn’t cool playing on Tommy’s fears like that. “Tommy--”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. Please. I know it’s your stash. Please.”

“Tommy.” The light turned green. “We’ve been over this. My stash is your stash.”

Tommy mutely shook his head, refusing to reply.

Internally sighing, Techno tapped his finger on the side of the steering wheel, his brain working hard. He should have known not to say that with Tommy, but of course he had to mess up again.

The car behind them honked its horn loudly, jerking Techno out of his thoughts. He lifted his foot from the brake, and placed it down on the gas, accelerating forwards, and allowing the long line of traffic behind him to go.

Tommy still hadn't spoken, but was shaking slightly, and it wasn't because he was cold.

“My stash is your stash,” Techno reiterated, if only to fill the silence.

“No it’s not,” Tommy said in a small voice. “You keep saying it is, but it’s not.”

“Then steal from my stash to make your own stash. You’ve done that before.”

“Not from people I need to like me.”

Techno stopped looking at Tommy in hopes he would calm down slightly. “I do like you,” he reassured. “If I didn’t I wouldn’t be trying to convince you that we share a stash.”

Tommy fiddled with the radio stations and made a noncommittal sound of what Techno pretended was agreement.

Techno and Tommy spent the rest of the ride home in silence, Techno glancing at Tommy out of the corner of his eye the whole time.

When they arrived home, Techno put the car in park, and undid his seatbelt, but made no move to get out of the car. Twisting his neck, he looked Tommy in the eyes.

Techno knew what Tommy needed to hear, even if he hated having to need to say it. “You can eat tonight. Grab whatever you want from my stash.”

“Really?” Tommy asked more hopefully than Techno was comfortable with.

“Yeah.”

Tommy then bolted out of the car, as if to make sure he did the thing while he had permission before it was taken away abruptly.

Which Techno would never do. Techno was feeling like shit playing on Tommy’s insecurities to get him to shut up. That wasn’t cool and he knew that. Techno slowly pulled himself out of the car. He grabbed his backpack, and the one Tommy had left in his haste.

Walking slowly to the house, Techno gave Tommy some time to settle in before entering their shared space. Yes he generally wished that Tommy was quieter after 10pm, but tonight it would be for the wrong reasons.

At least Tommy didn’t seem to think Techno was about to hit him.

[ericsonclan]

Falling For You

Summary: A part of Duck's past is revealed while on a date with Oakley. Oakley gives the address where Duck can meet them for their next date but no further details.

Word Count:

Read on A03: 3407

Life was good. That’s what Duck thought to himself as he contentedly chowed down on a burger while sitting in the corner booth at Ericson’s Diner. Across the table from him sat Oakley who was chewing upon a grilled cheese sandwich rather thoughtfully. Duck’s eyes pulled away from his burger to look over at his paramour. That’s what he liked to call Oakley. They both agreed it sounded gender neutral and romantic at the same time. Aasim had mentioned something about it not meaning what they thought it did, but Duck had never gotten round to looking into the exact meaning. Gulping down his current mouthful of food, he caught Oakley’s eyes. “How’s the food?”

“Crunchy,” Oakley took another bite, nodding in approval. Duck knew that was one of their favorite textures; the sandwich looked to be a success. He was glad. Some thought of Oakley as picky, but Duck always found it fun to try and guess what they would enjoy. Between the cushy booth seats and the enjoyment they were finding in their sandwich, Duck figured Oakley would be down for having more dates here. It was good news for him. Ericson’s Diner was usually one of the last delivery stops Duck made and besides he loved the people and the food here too. Making the diner a regular date spot when it was the first place they’d met sorta felt romantic to Duck too.

“Well, I’ll be damned. If it isn’t ol’ Duck Callaway,” The voice made Duck flinch. He looked up to see his memory had served his well. Roy Fortner stood before him, a girl Duck didn’t recognize on his arm. The young man smiled at Duck. No, not a smile. It was more of a knowing sneer. “Whatcha doing these days, Ducky?”

“Having lunch, same as you probably,” Duck mumbled. He looked over to see Oakley was still intently focused on their sandwich, seemingly unaware they had company. Good. Hopefully Roy wouldn’t say anything to them.

“Whatcha up to these days, Ducky? My old man got me onto the force just like I always said he would,” Roy flashed a smile over to the girl on his arm who seemed enchanted by his boasting. “How bout you? You flying airplanes now? You were always blabbing on and on about them,”

“No, I…” Duck cleared his throat, crumpling up his napkin. “I drive a delivery truck,”

“Huh. I guess that is more your speed tho. Get this, Carrie,” Roy turned to the girl on his arm with a devious grin. “We used to have another nickname for old Ducky here in school. I bet you can guess what it was,” He paused for a moment but not long enough for her to answer. “Dumbo! We called him that cause of his ears, see? Big as dinner plates! And cause he always talked about flying. But I guess you never did, huh, Ducky?”

Duck wanted to say something. Flying school was expensive; he was still saving up. He still had a long path ahead of him but he’d get there someday. But nothing came out. It was like he was stuck back at the lunch table at school, waiting for the teasing to pass.

“Anyway, it was good seeing you again. Later!” With a two-fingered mock salute Roy ended the conversation and strolled away with his girl on his arm, leaving Duck in an overwhelmed stupor.

After a few seconds though Duck looked up and saw Oakley’s eyes were on him. “Sorry about that guy, he’s a real jerk. I was hoping I’d never see him again but I guess the town’s not big enough for that,” Duck looked down at his half-eaten burger, his appetite gone. “He told that girl about the nickname as if I liked it, like it was a nice thing. But it wasn’t. They wouldn’t just say it when I talked about airplanes or even cause of my ears though they did that a lot too. They’d say it…”

Duck paused, his emotions from those days coming back. “I’m not the smartest. Not at life and not in school. So whenever there was a test or the teacher passed back papers they’d grab them and see how bad my grades were and tell the whole class. The teachers would tell them to shut up but they never did. Just kept calling me Dumbo every time,” He glanced up, suddenly growing self-conscious of his candidness. “Sorry, that was probably oversharing. Not like we’ve been going out long enough to say heavy stuff like that. I’m just…” The word ‘dumb’ drifted through the air between them, unspoken.

Oakley finished the last bite of their grilled cheese sandwich then carefully wiped all the crumbs off their hands. “I get to choose the next date spot,”

“Oh. Do you have something in mind?”

“I’ll text you.” Oakley looked round the diner before returning their gaze to Duck. “Good choice for this time. I like it here,” The small smile on their lips would normally brighten Duck’s day, but the encounter with Roy had left him in a bit of a funk. Oakley held out their hand, waiting for Duck to join.

Duck held out his hand too. He gave Oakley a down low high five then held out his hand for the same. On the second one their fingers drifted apart from each other then their firsts met in a fist bump. Their customary goodbye cheered Duck up a bit. He looked up at his paramour fondly. “Thanks, Oakley,”

“See you Friday,” With that Oakley got up from their seat and headed out.

Duck sat a minute longer, thinking back on what had just happened. Oakley hadn’t really reacted to any of that stuff with Roy or to Duck’s story from the past. Maybe they didn’t care about any of it? At least it hadn’t made them uncomfy. Rising up from the booth, Duck left a tip on the table as thanks for the free meal Clem had given them and headed out as well.

---

A week later, Duck drove out to the location Oakley had texted him. They hadn’t provided any details, only an address. It certainly wasn’t anywhere Duck had been before. The fact that he was driving outside of the city made him wonder if Oakley had some sort of picnic or hike planned. He never knew what to expect with Oakley; that was one of the things that made them so fun to be around.

As Duck neared the end of the directions on his maps program, his eyes widened as he saw what he was approaching. That was a plane on the tarmac! This was an air strip! Were they going flying today? It was a beautiful day for it, bright and clear, tons of puffy clouds. Duck quickly found a parking spot and hurried toward the main building, nearly bursting with excitement.

Once he was close enough to the building, Duck noticed a sign above the entrance: Wellington Skydiving Adventures. Skydiving! Duck had never skydived before. What an awesome date idea! Duck strode through the doors and toward the front desk where a friendly looking woman with goggles atop her head stood reading a flight schedule out of a blue binder. Her eyes brightened when she noticed Duck. “Well, hi there! My name’s Edith. Welcome to Wellington Skydiving Adventures! Do you have a reservation?”

“Uhhh maybe,” Duck scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile. “My name’s Duck Callaway and-”

“Oh, Duck!” Edith’s eyes brightened in recognition. “You’re Oakley’s boyfriend!”

“Yeah! Are they already here?”

“I should hope so! Otherwise they’re late for their shift,” Edith chuckled. She turned round and called toward the back room. “Oakley, Duck’s here!”

At that news Oakley emerged from the back room dressed head to toe in what looked to be a bright blue and orange skydiving jumpsuit. They walked over to Duck with a small smile and gave his hand a squeeze. “Surprise,”

“This is an awesome date idea! I didn’t know we even had skydiving around here!” Duck looked round the facility excitedly, taking in all the people and equipment. “So are we gonna join a group for training or is it gonna be more of a one on one thing?”

“One on one,”

“Oh, did you meet our instructor already?”

“It’s me,”

Duck looked over at Oakley in confusion. “Wait… you know how to skydive already?”

Oakley nodded. “It’s my job,”

“Oakley’s one of our best instructors,” Edith said proudly, tucking away the binder she’d been looking through. “They’re always patient with their clients and great on the jumps. I bet you two will have a lot of fun!”

Duck looked at his paramour in disbelief. Of all the jobs he’d pictured for Oakley, skydiving instructor had never even made the list. This was so badass. A grin broke out on his face as he swung their joined hands back and forth in excitement. “This is so awesome! I can’t believe I’m dating a professional skydiver! Does that mean we get to skydive just the two of us, holding hands and spinning in circles and doing flips while we freefall?”

“Maybe next time. You’re gonna be strapped to my chest this time. This way,” Oakley motioned and walked toward the training equipment, not noticing that their boyfriend had gotten a bit flushed at that prospect.

Duck followed Oakley into the training room. There were various stations reflecting different levels of difficulty and training. Oakley took Duck over to the workout mats first. The first training steps consisted of learning the proper posture and positions for jumps. Since they were going to do a tandem jump Duck didn’t need to know as much about how to control his movements as he would on a solo jump, but he still asked plenty of questions even though for this jump they were solely theoretical. He already knew he wanted to master skydiving or at least be good enough to jump with Oakley as an equal, not just as a student.

Oakley was patient and calm throughout the entire process, answering all of Duck’s questions simply and succinctly. Their hands were steady as they guided Duck in maintaining his core strength and changing his shoulder and arm positioning. It was great to see them so comfortable. Usually unless it was just the two of them Oakley was fairly standoffish, preferring to keep within their own world. But as Duck continued his training with them, he realized this was Oakley’s world. This was where they excelled.

Once they were done on the mat, Oakley and Duck headed over to the indoor skydiving tunnel. According to Oakley this was an alternate attraction for people who didn’t want to go as far as jumping out of a plane to skydive just yet but still wanted that thrill. The tunnel was reserved for training purposes on Tuesday and Thursday mornings though, so for now they had it to themselves. Oakley led Duck through a short series of hand signals since speaking wouldn’t be possible within the tunnel then helped him get suited up with a helmet, goggles, gloves and a bright green and yellow jumpsuit that matched Oakley’s in design.

Indoor skydiving was a ton of fun all in itself. Edith stepped into the wind tunnel with them to help Duck get started, lifting him up so he was horizontal to the floor and wasn’t simply knocked over by the wind. It certainly wasn’t as simple as stepping in and flying skyward. Duck started on his stomach upon the tunnel floor, trying his best to follow Oakley’s hand signals to move his body in such a way that he could lift off the ground. It took many, many attempts. An hour passed before Duck even felt himself fully levitate off the ground. But the glee he felt in that moment and the full-fledged smile on Oakley’s face made all the struggles worth it.

Edith placed a sticker upon Duck’s chest after helping him out of the wind tunnel, a fluffy cloud with pilot wings upon it. “Well done, Duck. You’re one step closer to becoming an officially licensed skydiver yourself should that be something you’d like to pursue,”

“Oh, definitely! This has been so much fun!” Duck beamed as he reverently traced the sticker.

Edith smiled proudly. “Wonderful. We can talk future lessons later, but for now I think it’s time for you to make your first jump. The plane is ready to go when you are, just waiting for its last few passengers,” With that she headed off to her other duties, leaving Duck and Oakley to their own devices.

Duck felt a soft pressure upon his hand and looked down to see that Oakley was holding it. His paramour looked up at him expectantly. “Ready?”

“Absolutely!”

---

It was a small plane that took them up in the air, a Cessna 182. As Oakley had explained, they would ascend until they were at 10,000 feet then make the jump. The freefall portion of the jump would last about a minute before Oakley pulled the chute and they’d float down from there for 4-5 minutes before reaching the landing zone. There would be a bus waiting for them there to take them back to the main building.

Duck’s heart pounded as he sat on the plane, strapped in front with Oakley behind him. It was rather loud within the plane, the sounds of wind rushing against the sides of the plane a constant background noise. Pilot Pete was calm at the helm, checking in with his passengers from time to see that everyone was doing well. The plane only held a handful of people: two other skydiving instructors and their clients waited in relative silence to reach the drop zone.

Duck wished he could look back at Oakley and talk with them. Instead, he settled for the calming warmth of their hand in his. This whole time Duck had been riding off of the high of excitement at the thought of the jump. Now that they were actually approaching it though, he could feel his heart doing belly flops within his stomach. He was about to jump out of a moving plane. His mother would have a heart attack if she knew. Duck tried to calm himself by focusing on the sound of the plane and its engines. Who knew, maybe someday whenever he got his pilot’s license it could be him flying the plane while Oakley led the jumps. They could be at work together, take breaks and lunch together, and he could fly every day. The charm of that daydream made the time drift away till suddenly Duck heard the announcement.

“We’re approaching the drop zone,” Pete announced over the mic. One of the other instructors got up and opened the airplane’s door. The rushing sound of the wind filled all their ears as the passengers’ hair tousled back and forth wildly. Duck and Oakley would be the third ones to jump. Duck bit his lip as he watched the first instructor position themselves by the doorway, their client strapped to their front. This was real. They were going to jump.

A gasp inadvertently left Duck as he saw the first pair drop. Moments later the second pair was standing by the open door. This was all happening so fast. Oakley’s steps nudged him forward, positioning them as the next and last in line. Before Duck could mentally prepare himself, the second pair had jumped. It was their turn. A few steps forward and he stood at the front of the open plane door, gazing down at the patchwork of green so far below them.

“Ready?” Oakley shouted in his ear, giving Duck’s hand a final tight squeeze.

He couldn’t back out. He didn’t want to. He wanted to be brave for Oakley, no matter how scary this was. And they’d be together the whole way down. He wanted to do this, for himself too. “Y-yeah!”

“Remember to scream!” With those final words, Oakley jumped out of the airplane.

They were falling, plummeting faster than Duck had ever gone before. Air rushed past Duck’s ears as the canopy of green so far beneath them stretched as far as the eye could see. Duck let out a loud, prolonged yell, forcing the lump out of his throat and grounding him back into reality. He could breathe, just like Oakley had said. The yelling worked to remind him. He wasn’t even short of breath and he didn’t have that dropping feeling in his gut like rollercoasters and water park slides gave him. Instead everything around him was quiet and peaceful but also beautifully exhilarating: a moment of pure, unbridled joy. It was almost like he was floating. No, more than that… All of a sudden, the parachute was pulled. They shot upwards into the sky for a moment and with the rush of the wind gone, Duck heard Oakley’s words as they leaned towards his ear.

“You can fly!”

Duck felt his heart swell at those words. He’d been flying. Euphoric excitement coursed through his veins, an amalgamation of joy and love. The words Oakley had said reverberated in his mind. With three words they had said so much. That last date when Roy had embarrassed him and Duck had let his past spill out to Oakley he’d wondered if it had been too much to share then wondered when they gave no response if Oakley had even cared. But they’d heard it all: the pain of that nickname, the long-forgotten dream. This had been their answer. They’d helped Duck fly.

“Wanna try?” Oakley offered Duck the handles of the parachute.

Duck quickly took them, smiling to himself as Oakley’s hands came to rest on top of his own. “I can see why you like it up here!” he called back as they drifted down peacefully, gently guided this way and that by the pull of the handles.

“Everything makes sense in the sky!” Oakley’s words were shouted, but their quiet tone was the same as always.

“That’s why you brought me up here, right? So, the words Roy said wouldn’t matter anymore!”

“I did it because you belong up here, with me!”

Duck wished he could hug Oakley right now. Instead, he settled for squeezing their hands, knowing that hug would be coming soon enough once they reached the ground.

It was silent between them as they gently floated down, their focus on the beauty round them as the patchwork of greens slowly grew larger beneath them, eventually settling into one uniform deep green tone as the landing zone came into sight. Oakley took control of the handles once more, guiding the parachute to turn and angle into the wind to help slow their descent. The brake lines were pulled and their speed slowed more and more as they neared the field until all that remained as they touched down was to slide along the grass to an easy stop.

“Wow, I-” Duck was about to say more, but a quick kiss from Oakley upon his cheek froze him in his tracks. He was left sitting in stupefied joy as his paramour undid the straps connecting them and began the process of removing themselves from the parachute. He turned slightly to watch them work. Dating a skydiving instructor really was the coolest thing ever.

Once they were done, Oakley took Duck’s hands and helped him up. “The bus is over there,” They nodded in the direction of it, moving to head out when Duck squeezed their hands lightly, causing them to look up at him.

Duck was grinning from ear to ear. “This was the best date ever! There’s no way I can beat this one!” He leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his love’s cheek. “Thank you,”

“You’re welcome,” The smile was clear on Oakley’s face even as their eyes were locked on the ground. “You’ll come again!”

“Oh, definitely! Like I said, I’m gonna become a skydiving master! Just you wait, soon we’ll be able to do all the badass skydiving tricks together!” Turning toward the bus, Duck continued to gush about all that he wanted to learn to do in skydiving while Oakley happily followed along, listening quietly. It had certainly been a date to remember, one that felt like the beginning of something entirely new.

[owlsoldwritingcorner]

The Ghost (Part 2)

Pairing :Wrench x Reader

AO3 Link

Summary:

“So. You a big fan of hackers?”

“I guess you can say that. ” You may not be able to make a coherent string of codes but you know that vague code speak means: He’s in the group.

Note: 

Here's the look reader has in this chapter!

(The helmet and biker suit is the main canonical look reader has cuz it's important to the fic, underneath you can insert your own look)

Chapter 2: Fresh Air and Graffiti

You woke up to the smell of your grandmother’s cooking, checking your phone revealed it was 8 in the damn morning. God you weren’t ready for the strong smells so early in the morning. Looks like Ripley wasn’t either considering she was already away and giving you her big ole puppy eyes that just scream “Walk time? Walk time!”.

Such a sweetie.

“Let’s get you some breakfast first before we can think of any w-a-l-k-i-e-s, alrighty?” Oh gosh, she gave you a little nod and a gentle ruff, you’re gonna get killed by the cuteness of a pup. Not by any of those burly men with guns that you’re so used to on the job, and obviously, you welcome this kind of death with open arms.

Getting up, you cleaned yourself up from the rest of your grogginess and went to the kitchen to fill up Ripley’s food bowl but not before taking a puff of your daily asthma medicine.

Gah… The smell of dried fish was getting more and more prominent now. The dried fish your grandma makes for the conge tastes so good but god it smells like the ocean flooded the house and dried up.

“Mom! Did you really have to make that fish so early in the morning?” Looks like your aunt was up and at ‘em too now. Strong smells always did make her grumpier.

“ It takes so long to fully seep and cook this fish so I should just cook it now! ” Your aunt looked as if she was going to pop a blood vessel already.

“Mom. Now the whole house smells like fish. You could have made it tomorrow or even later today!” You just sighed as your aunt and grandma argued, you really didn’t want a headache so early in the morning…

Ripley was done eating her breakfast so it was time to go for some walkies. Maybe Ripley will make some friends in this neighborhood? You brought out some body spray for yourself to put on once you’re out of the house, your emergency inhaler, then finally you put the pit-bull on her leash. Hopefully a walk around will ease your headache a bit.

So far so good.

It was sunny and surprisingly nice out, your little pup was letting out some energy and you got some fresh air. You finally arrived at a small dog park, certainly not the park Clara told you about. That hideout is about 20 more minutes away from where you’re currently at.

You sat at one of the benches to give your feet some rest, your little pit-bull laid down next to you on the bench, her head on your lap and wanting you to pet her as you two relaxed. You smiled before slowly starting to go into a daze, your eyelids drooped a bit from the nice temperature and your little friend snored away on your lap before your mind finally started to dream away as you stared into space.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Run.

You needed to run.

You have to get out of here.

Opaque silhouettes slithered after you, their limbs contorting as they ran on all fours, letting out whaling cries as if trying to coax you into stopping. Its grotesque body leaving mucus in its wake.

But it didn’t work.

It only made you run faster.

Faster and faster until--

You choked.

The air was knocked out of you as one of the silhouette’s slimy, long arms grabbed one of your legs causing you to fall forward. You tried to crawl away, your nails scratching the concrete below to no avail. You looked behind you to see the mass of disgusting limbs catching up to you, still holding onto your captive leg.

As you continue to try to get away from the creature, you see another silhouette step in front of you and kneel down, and outstretched as if saying “Here. Let me help you up”. This one was different from the ones trying to chase you, they weren’t contorted or slimy nor did they have any extra limbs on their body.

You were so close to reaching for that gentle hand when--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Excuse me?” You woke up from your daydream by that new voice trying to get your attention. Looking up, you see a man (probably just a couple years older than you) wearing dark lensed glasses and had a light moustache and a soul patch. You also noted the shirt he wore.

Dedsec.

You wanted to snort. The Chicago branch would instantly kick that person out for wearing something so blatant. They’d hate seeing their name with a face.

“Hey, uh, sorry for intruding, I just wanted to pet your dog. Don’t really see many Pitbulls in this neighborhood.” You raised an eyebrow, most people would be terrified of Ripley and cross the street from you two (Granted, she is a big dog with large scars and cropped ears, you can’t fully blame them for being intimidated.) But you gave the man a little nod, he seemed nice enough.

“Sure, she’d love the attention.” The man immediately went to work, giving Ripley little scratches behind her ears, cooing as she gave him some kisses.

“What’s her name?”

“Ripley.”

“As in Ellen Louise Ripley ?”

“Yep. They’re both super tough, so, I just named her accordingly.” You mumbled, god it’s been so long since you had social interaction with a new human. The man just chuckled.

“I can tell, she definitely looks like she been through some stuff.”

You let out a little hum, “She was rescued from one of those dog fighting rings.” He nodded.

“Poor girl. Looks like she’s in better hands now though.” You chuckled as you scratched behind Ripley’s cropped ears, your eyes wandered back to the man’s Dedsec shirt. Honestly you can’t tell if he’s just a big fan or actually part of the group.

“So. You a big fan of hackers?”

“I guess you can say that. You into what Dedsec has to say?” You may not be able to make a coherent string of codes but you know that vague code speak means: He’s in the group.

“They have some good points. Highlighting vulnerabilities and weaknesses in the CTOS systems, showcasing how Blume truly acts. It’s like embarrassing the prom king on stage, I’m all for that.” The man raised his eyebrows and chuckled.

“You seem to have your share of Dedsec knowledge.”

“I’m from Chicago, they’re a pretty big deal there too. Dunno about here.”

“That explains it. Heard they released some pretty big blackmail over there.” You gave the man a nonchalant hum. Dedsec’s blackmail, huh? Aiden did most of the work though…

“I heard that too.”

Checking the time it was already almost 12 pm, that fuckin online college got you on a damn leash. Plus, you were getting pretty hungry, you did skip out on breakfast in favor of feeding Ripley.

“Well, I need to be on my way now. Hope you have a nice day.”

“Oh, you too. I’m Marcus by the way. I have a feeling I might see you again.” Well that sounds only mildly ominous, but, certainly not the worst you’ve heard. The taller man reached out his hand for a handshake, to which you reluctantly shook and gave Marcus your name.

“It was nice meeting you, Marcus.”

You nudged Ripley a bit to let her know you two were heading home now only for her to whine a bit but obliging. Yeah, you don’t wanna smell like fish again but… You really needed to at least finish the week’s assignments. You gave Marcus a final goodbye wave as you walked home with your dog by your side.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You flopped onto your bed in defeat.

Why the fuck did this online school have to give you so much work every week? Well, you managed to do a few weeks worth of work and should be free earlier for Dedsec work.

Speaking of, it’s almost time to meet your new “coworkers”. It's time to suit up.

Donning your binder, biker’s helmet and suit, you made sure to test out the helmet’s voice modulator and check for any kinks. Afterwards, it was time for some real clothes! The skin tight biker suit feels pretty breezy despite you not being actually naked. At least the binder makes you look like a super buff guy, not to mention the boots give you some extra height. You really need those 3 extra inches…

Let’s see…

Pastel week? Or maybe something vintage? Or perhaps some fall colors would be nice! Sweaters always feel nice. But, it has been a while since you’ve done a punk week…

Well! It’s been decided!

Finally, you were ready for work. Giving Ripley a final forehead kiss and head pat, you headed for your destination.

Weird that a notorious hacker group put one of their hideouts in a nerdy tabletop shop. Then again, it doesn’t raise a lot of suspicion on the outside. Looking around, you see a bunch of people rolling their 20 sided dice on the tables. You always did want to play Dungeons and Dragons, never had the time to read up on it though. You walked towards the back, ignoring any wandering eyes. But no one really spoke up against you being there, they looked too scared to even try if they actually wanted to.

Aha. There was the entrance. You pushed in the pass-code Clara gave you and viola! You’re in. You took in the appearance of the entrance down the hackerspace. The graffiti is quite a look. Most of the Dedsec graffiti back home were mostly on CTOS ads or other signposts, this is a stark contrast from those dark hacker rooms in Chicago. But, you certainly didn’t mind it. Actually heading into the space itself revealed it looked more like a hacker’s man cave or hangout spot than a big name hacker group meet up room. Dedsec’s name was graffitied around every inch of the room, the table in the middle was filled with snacks, beers, and some computer equipment, and there were some really old rage comics memes near the 3d printer area.

Looks like you’re the first person here though. You sat at the sofa area, crossing your legs. God, the spaces back home needs a sofa like this instead of those rackety pull out chairs. Just as you were getting used to the appearance of… Everything. The sound of the sliding door and footsteps catches your ears. Guess it was introduction time.

Turning around and facing the first person you got to the space first, you were greeted with a familiar face.

“You guys should have seen Mr. Weak Chin’s face in perso--” The man locked eyes with you as you gave him a little wave.

Marcus. Your instincts had always been pretty on point.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” His hand was hidden behind him, probably reaching for a weapon to prepare himself from any surprise attacks. You only raise your hands to tell him you don’t mean any harm. Just as you were going to let him know why you’re here, the rest of the crew came down. Marcus wasn’t the only familiar face around here.

Your hidden eyes gazed into familiar digital Xs.

[ncityislove]

The Jury is Out Ch. 3

➳ Pairing: Renjun x Reader

➳  Genre: Fluffy Angst

➳ Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: HELLOOOO!! Here is the long awaited third chapter of The Jury is Out. This was promised to be out in January but here it is, four months late. Sorry it’s so short and I’m sure there are typos as well ugh!! Thanks for reading and sorry for the wait! Also, the new album SLAPS!!!

The awful pounding in your head is unbearable as you wait for your first class to start. Your sour mood worsens when you recalled yesterday's events. The strong sense of shame you felt was overwhelming but you push the thoughts away in favor of finding your only pencil in the mess of your book bag.

When Renjun arrives, he sits his things on your table, unpacking his binder and pencil box. You don't know why he isn't sitting in his usual seat when you didn't have a lab today. You frown but remove your book bag from the chair next you, nonetheless.

Renjun sits down eagerly, glancing at you a moment longer than normal.  "I like your hair."

Your hands immediately grip the strands. "Oh, thanks."

Was that a compliment just now?

"Where were you yesterday, by the way?"

"I was sick, so I missed first period," he says, flicking the dark tufts of hair out of his eyes.

Unbelievable. He's lying straight to your face.

"That's not what Chenle had to say."

"Hmm? Chenle? He's always pulling pranks; I wouldn't buy anything that comes out of his mouth," he laughs.

You glare at him for a moment. "You didn't get my texts messages?"

He smiles sheepishly. "Oh...sorry about that. I was...um...busy?"

"Hmm. Are you okay at least?"

"Yeah, never better!"

You shake your head, not wanting to seem like you actually cared even though deep down you knew you did. It's crazy that all it took was one little afternoon alone together in the cold and suddenly Renjun matters to you. All those years of being at each other's throats out the window. Just like that. It was different now. You were more mindful of each other's feelings and it's even gotten to the point where you're receiving compliments. It was a change that you still hadn't adjusted to but maybe it was a good one.

The horrible excuses and lies weren't something you were fond of but it's not like you were friends so you kept that to yourself. You just wished he'd tell you the truth or even hearing that he didn't want to talk about it would've been fine. You didn't see why he had to lie...

You had to remind yourself that you shouldn't be so concerned with Renjun. It was weirding you out that you were thinking about him so much lately. As much as you hated to admit it, you might've maybe felt something for him in that teeny split second after you made up on the field. You never really noticed how funny he was because you were always the butt of the joke but turns out he was hilarious. And his voice was so sweet and calming you could probably listen to it forever. But whatever it was—that moment your heart skipped a beat— was gone. It was crazy to even think—there was no way you'd ever say that out loud. Clearly, Renjun would never reciprocate.

If only Haven could see you now.

Renjun turns his body toward you, giving you his full attention. "Are we meeting at the track after school?"

"I have volleyball practice but we can meet after, if you want."

"Yeah, cool," he says, looking pleased.

"Are you sure you're okay though?"

The question had been on your mind since yesterday. Maybe something happened with his dad and he didn't want to say anything. According to Jeno, he didn't talk about that stuff much but you still wanted to make sure he was okay.

"Hm?" he looks at you strange. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Are you sure? I mean, you can tell me if you're not. If you want to, that is."

He laughs, his face glowing with a big smile. "Are you worried about me?"

You scowl. "As if."

"Aww, you care about me! Who knew the coldest person in the world had a heart?" he pinches your cheek.

You violently slap his hand away. "Don't ever touch me again. Got it? Ever."

Renjun chuckles lightly. "Alright, sorry. Whatever you say."

When class starts, the teacher pulls up her usual PowerPoint and you began messily jotting down the first slide. She seems to be in a rush as she breezes over everything making it difficult to write down everything in time. Renjun nudges your arm. You look to see him offering you a piece of gum. You reject it, mouthing a 'no thanks' with a polite smile and scramble to write down the rest of the slide. He purses his lips, taking a piece for himself, leisurely writing his notes.

A few minutes later, he nudges your arm again. "You got any led?"

Your nostrils flare as you let out a sigh, pulling out your pencil pouch for him to find the type of led he needs. You pick your pencil back up and continue your notes.

"Thanks," he whispers. "Hey, did you get that last slide?"

"Oh my fucking--no, Renjun! How could I have gotten the last slide when you keep distracting me?"

Renjun starts to giggle and Mrs. Brookes stops her lesson.

"What's going on back there?" she looks irritated to find you and Renjun talking. "__, would you like to tell me what the main parts of the brain are?"

"Umm," you hesitate, your eyes scanning over the board. It must've been on the last slide, which you didn't get, thanks to Renjun.

Mrs. Brooks looks at you expectingly. The class turns to look at you as well when you take too long to answer.

"Cerebellum, frontal lobe, parietal lobe, cerebrum, and the thalamus," Renjun says, saving your ass.

"Very good! Thank you, Renjun. Now, as I was saying..." Mrs. Brookes turns back to the board and continues rambling on about the brain.

"I thought you didn't get the last slide?" you whisper.

"Just because I didn't write it down doesn't mean I wasn't paying attention."

You stare at the side of his face in shock and you can tell by the way his cheeks were lifted he was smiling.

-

Renjun sits with you again in third period. You scoot your stuff over, once again saying nothing. This was getting a little odd. If you weren't friends why did he keep sitting next to you? You weren't friends, were you? You decide not to ask. Sadie seemed like the right person to confide this type of stuff into.

Your desks were too close together which made Renjun's knee touch yours. You wouldn't have noticed any other time but this time in particular it was hard not to.

"You should sit with me at lunch from now on."

Definitely getting mixed signals here.

"Why?"

"We're partners. It only makes sense, you know?"

"But we've been partners for years."

He opens his mouth then closes it. "Well, yeah that's true...but you still should. I won't force you to but I'll be really upset if you don't."

"Upset?" you repeat with a tilt of your head.

Why would he be upset about that? You couldn't understand why he was acting so weird today.

"Yeah and if I get upset, I won't be able to focus on the booth," his tone is sad and it tugs at your heart for some reason.

"Well...if that's the case, I'll do it. For the sake of the booth."

He smiles triumphantly. "Right. For the booth."

The kid who usually sits next to you walks over and stands there awkwardly before he finds an empty seat somewhere else. You try not to giggle at how uncomfortable Renjun looks. The class goes by smoothly this time, Renjun only bugging you every once in a while to compare answers on your worksheet. When the bell rings, you and Renjun walk to lunch together. He's talking to you about the Pythagorean theorem but you keep getting distracted by the odd looks people keep giving you in the hall. You weren't used to getting this much attention; you're existence was pretty much irrelevant unless something happened with your rivalry against Renjun. Renjun, being the top of the class and friends with almost all the sports team members on the other hand, was very much popular. You couldn't begin to imagine the confusion you two were causing just by walking to lunch together. Jisung is the first person to see you coming, a look of recognition crossing his face. Chenle was next; he smiles sending you a friendly wave. You say hello, sitting your tray down next to Jeno's and Renjun sits on the other side of you.

"Hey, beautiful, what're you doing here?" Jeno asks.

You flush at the pet name. "I think as Renjun's partner, we should take advantage of the free time we have to work together."

"Oh god, you two are so much alike," Haechan groans.

"I think it's cute," Chenle beams.

Jaemin fake gags and everyone bursts into laughter except for you who didn't find it all that funny.

The laughter dies down.

"Will you be spending all your time with Renjun?" Jeno asks.

"Um, no..."

"Well, in that case, would you like to go on a date with me tonight?"

You drop your carton of milk on the table, thankfully you hadn't opened it yet. You feel your palms get sweaty.

"I...can't. I have practice after school and then I have to work on the booth. I'm sorry."

The boys "ooh" in unison like a bunch of fifth graders.

"It's not like that!" you scramble to fix your words. "We can go another day?"

Jeno's eyes disappear as he gives you the most heartwarming smile. You can't help but smile back at him.

Chenle clears his throat. "What do you think about that, Renjun?"

Renjun's picking at the edge of his foam tray when he shrugs. "I couldn't care less."

Chenle gives him a glare as if he's trying to convey some message to him but Renjun doesn't meet his eyes so he elbows him.

"Fine. I admit, I don't approve."

The whole table gets quiet. You and Jeno share the same expression of surprise.

"Why not? And don't say she's too good for me."

"It'll distract __ from school and I don't think that's what she wants."

Jeno snorts. "It's just one date; I think she'll be fine. And when we do become a couple, which we will—I'll make sure of that—I won't distract from her school work."

"Yeah, but I don't think—"

"Plus, you used to have a girlfriend—what's the difference?"

The atmosphere gets tense at the mention of Haven and Jeno looks sorrowful as the boys send him angry looks.

"Um...sorry."

"When does practice end?" Renjun changes the subject.

You're still confused about what's going on. "Who? Me?"

"Yes, you, dummy," he grins.

You ignore the fact that he just called you a dummy. "It ends at four but I can leave early."

"Mind if I come and watch?" Jeno asks.

"Sure!" you get excited at the thought of Jeno watching you play.

"No fair! I wanna come too!" Jisung exclaims.

Jaemin reaches out to pat him on the shoulder. "You're not going anywhere near those girls, you pervert."

You giggle at the two, unaware of the concerned look Chenle's giving Renjun as he silently scribbles in his notebook.

You arrive at the gym, hauling the equipment the coach had you fetch. The girls are all huddled in a circle, gossiping most likely. You set up the net and clear the court of the mats that were left behind from a previous class. You could ask for help but you were sure no one wanted to.

You break up their little party after you get another text from the coach.

"Ladies, coach says she's not coming until the end of practice so we're starting without her. Let's start stretching, okay?"

The girls spread out and begin their stretches and you join them. Everyone's following instructions except for Haven, who's still standing in the same spot.

"Haven," you call in a warning tone.

"Why can't we just hang out until coach gets here? She doesn't have to know."

Everyone agrees, the room filling with murmurs.

You already feel the anger rising in your body. It felt like every time Haven opened her mouth, it was always to go against you. Maybe her and Renjun were the perfect couple after all.

"Guys, c'mon. If we slack off, we'll throw the next game and lose our winning streak."

"No way, skipping one day of practice won't cost us some measly game. You're being a little dramatic, don't 'ya think?"

"Some measly game?" you repeat in utter shock. "You don't even care about winning. Haven, you don't care about this team at all; why should any of us listen to you? I am captain of this team, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh god here we go again," she sighs. "That's just a title, __. That doesn't make you the boss of me."

"Oh, yes it does. I can get your ass kicked off the team with one word. Coach trusts me, all I have to do is say it. Should I have a chat with her when she gets here?"

Haven gets as red as a tomato, her lips poking out in an ugly pout. You almost laugh at how immature she's looks right now. It was a mystery how people adore that girl so much when she's got such an ugly attitude.

"Since you all agree with Haven, let's do ten laps. C'mon."

Everyone gives Haven dirty looks as the get up and starts running.

"Let's go ladies, I'd like to get this over with so we can start practice." you clap your hands to speed them up. "And Haven? You get ten extra laps."

Haven flips you off before she runs off but you don't really care. At least she was listening to you for once. You hear a door slam upstairs and Jeno struts in, sitting at the back of the bleachers. He's smiling as he waves to you, giving you a thumbs up. You can't help but match his smile as you wave back.

When everyone's finished their laps and done their stretches, you split everyone into teams. You're opposing Haven's team and boy, do they suck. They're losing embarrassingly bad and you're not even the one who's hitting the ball. One of your best players, Sana, was dragging the other team through the mud. Mina and Momo always made sure the ball got passed to her and when she swung her fists, the ball connected with the ground every time. Haven hated lots of things but you knew most of all, she hated to lose. This was only reason you haven't kicked her off yet. She wasn't the best player—not even close—but she did like to win. You don't know what made her join the team but she did and she always tried to win when it came down to it.

You switch positions on both sides, you serving this time. You throw the ball up high, spreading your fingers apart as you raise your hand and slam your palm against it so hard, there's a loud thud that echoes through the gym. The other team throws themselves to save the ball but their efforts are in vain. The ball is too fast for them. Applause comes from the top right corner of the room and everyone turns to look at Jeno. You pretend you don't notice him, calling the ball back but your pink cheeks exposes you anyway.

Jeno whoops and cheers every time you scored a point, and let's be real, with the skills you have, that means it happened a lot. You never had someone who weren't your parents or your coach cheer you on like this and it was something you found to really enjoy. This was something you could get used to. You imagine him attending your future games. Your stomach fills with butterflies and you could almost hear him calling your name when you dive to save the ball.

"Why's Jeno here?" Haven whispers to one of her friends. "Since when was __ this close with Jeno?"

You smirk, calling Jeno over after letting everyone take a short break. The two of you laugh and talk for a bit, ignoring the cold stare Haven's giving you not too far away.

-

   Jeno walks you to the track field where they meet Renjun, who's already got a head start. His jacket is thrown over his book bag and you notice how toned his arms are with his sleeves rolled up. He looks up when hears your footsteps, the smile on his face slowly fading when he notices Jeno behind you.

"Oh great. What are you doing here?"

You laugh at his displeased expression. "He's just leaving, calm down."

"Actually, since I'm here, why don't I stay and help out?" Jeno proposes.

"Oh!" you let out an excited squeal you didn't know you were capable of. "That's great idea! Yes!"

"Absolutely not." Renjun rolls his eyes. "Go home, Jeno. You'll just get in the way."

Jeno juts his bottom lip out and you have to keep yourself from swooning at how adorable he looks.

"Renjunie!" he whines. "I promise not to get in the way. Let me help?"

You give him pleading eyes behind Jeno's back. Renjun looks at you and grunts, muttering something inaudible as he starting hammering away at a slab of wood a little too hard.

"Yes!!" Jeno takes off his jacket and gets to work. "This is a one-time thing," Renjun declares, his back turned to the both of you.

"Right, right, got it," Jeno quickly agrees. "Let me help you with that," he runs over to carry the bucket of paint you were holding.

You watch him lug the heavy object onto the table. "Oh, thanks, but I had it."

Renjun rolls his eyes.

   Hetries repeatedly to get Jeno to go home. Each and every time Jeno would laugh it off, calling him grumpy. You noticed his mood was off but you didn't want to bother him by asking why. He never told you those kinds of things anyway so why go through the trouble of asking? He never laughs when Jeno makes one of his famous jokes and he doesn't look at you when you speak to him. You wish he wouldn't be such a mood killer but he was almost always like this even at parties you've come to find out.

When you start to lose daylight, you decide to call it quits for the day.

"I think we can wrap up for today," you beam. "We're nearly finished thanks to Jeno."

Renjun's bag is already slung over his shoulder by the time you finish your sentence. "See ya."

"Yeah...I'll see you," you trail off as he sprints down the field.

"What's his problem?" Jeno asks aloud.

You shrug just as your phone starts to jingle that annoying ringtone you set it to over a year ago. You dig it out of your back pocket and read the caller ID. It's Sadie.

"Hello?"

"Hey! Listen, I'm sorry, I totally spaced about picking you up after school. I'm out with Jodie right now."

You can't help the displeased noise that comes from you at the sound of Jodie's name. "That's cool, I guess. I can just walk like I usually do."

"Are you sure? We can come and get you in about twenty minutes."

"We?  Yeah, no thanks. I promise I'll be fine."

"I promised mom and dad I'd pick you--hold on. Jodie, I'm on the phone...what?"

There's whispering then a short silence on the other line and you give Jeno an awkward smile.

"Um, okay,  be safe walking. Sorry again! Bye!"

Click.

Jeno kicks a pile of dirt with the tip of his shoe. "Your ride must be here."

"Nah, I'm walking today."

Jeno perks up. "Really? Me too. I'll walk you home."

You stop in your tracks. "Are you sure? I don't want you to go out of your way."

"It's no problem. I like hanging out with you, anyways. You're cool people."

You nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. No one's ever called you cool before. Ever since Renjun and you got paired together for the booth it's like your life had been flipped upside down. People were starting to notice you. You were even sitting at the popular table now. Your blooming friendship with Jeno was sure to leave you a permanent spot there, too. Even girls as pretty and cool as Haven was starting to become jealous of you--for whatever reason, you don't know.

You look a Jeno and the sun hits his eyes that make them glimmer a bit. You never noticed how they turned a lighter brown in the light. Or how flawless and beautiful his skin was. Or even how soft and luscious his hair looked until now. You realize you're staring and heat covered your cheeks.

"Yeah, thanks," you cleared your throat.

"Which way is it?" Jeno asks, dropping his arm over your shoulder.

The air was cold and the wind was biting but the constant blushing of your cheeks kept you warm as you walked the short path to your house. The hand warmers Jeno selflessly gifted you also helped too. You talked aimlessly about nothing and you weren't sure when you started walking so closely but every other step your bodies would brush against one another. Clearly, this didn't bother him as he made no effort to put some distance between you.

Your heart was heavy in your chest as you approached your driveway, the walk feeling all too short.

"Well, this is  me," you tut.

"You live, like, really close to school," Jeno basks at your noble home.

"Yeah, I hate it."

Jeno shakes his head at your sarcastic remark. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, beautiful."

You scoff at the pet name, a smile spreading across your lips. "I'd invite you in but nobody's home and I don't want my parents to kill me. Not yet anyway."

Jeno steps onto the stoop of your porch with you, his body dangerously close to yours. "That's okay. You can have me over another time."

You let out an airy laugh, turning away to unlock the door. "Are you inviting yourself into my home?"

"Yep," his fingers cup your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

You heart stops for a single moment and then suddenly it's pounding harder than ever. He's going to kiss you. Lee Jeno is going to kiss you. Your hold your breath when he pulls you close, his lips mere inches from yours. He pauses, his warm breath fanning over your face and it turns to white in the cold air. The street lamps flicker on and suddenly everything is illuminated in orange.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmurs.

It takes you a moment to find your voice. "Don't stop."

You drop the heat warmer in your hand s to wrap your arms around the nape of his neck and finally, he kisses you. His lips are warm and welcoming as he softly pecks your own. Your mind goes blank and all your senses are filled with Jeno, Jeno, Jeno. It's better than you imagined it'd be.

You both pull back and are smiling like idiots. You bid each other farewell after one very long hug and then you're alone. No one to witness you jumping excitedly like a crackhead in your house, kicking and screaming for joy like a child.

[yuthoe]

Schedule Changes (PENTAGON: Adachi Yuto)

HELLO, IT’S 12:48AM AND I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF.

I had to churn this out because it won’t leave my head. I’d like to thank my irl friend @shiiiiiiiiinwun for inspiring me to write this collection (yes, I’m gonna be doing one for all of ot9). And for someone who’s been watching anime since she figured out how to use the internet, you’d think I could’ve come up with better names, and faster.

EDIT (06/29/20): Hi! it’s my first time making an edit like this, so i’m kinda insecure abt it lol, i hope it’s okay. this is the 2nd yuto version i did, so it’s slightly better than the first one. tumblr rlly doesn’t want us to go overboard on image size huh

WARNINGS: n/a; some angst, maybe? who’s proofreading idk her. WORD COUNT: 3,314 it’s so fucking long.

---

Minister Sakaguchi,

Unfortunately, Her Majesty will not be available for your meeting today at 3PM; urgent matters have arisen that need her immediate attention. If you would like to reschedule with her, please reply to this email.

Thank you very much for understanding.

Regards,

Y/N L/N

Secretary to the Queen

You sigh, wondering if the email you’ve typed is in the appropriate tone that won’t offend Minister Sakaguchi; in all the years you’ve been working for the royal family it doesn’t get easier writing and replying to the emails of government officials, invitations to interview Her Majesty for magazine features, requests to attend public functions like galas and balls. The ridiculous amount of mail she gets, that are automatically forwarded to you, is mind-boggling, in anyone else’s eyes. It doesn’t surprise you anymore, though.

The queen as a monarch takes the backseat to running the kingdom, to any foreigner that decides to take a look at articles from international news sources. Her name isn’t mentioned as much as the king’s when it comes to referencing big developments in the state. Rather, the local newspapers and online sites have her name and face on some article at least once a week. The queen takes care of the little things, smaller projects that delve more into social welfare than her husband’s institutional programs. She is a strong advocate for women’s and children’s rights, as well as a figure in health outreach programs for the poorer sectors of society. Her compassion and dedication to her job is what made you want to work for her; she was like a role model to you, along with her husband.

It was a stroke of pure luck that got you this job; your first day as the secretary for Minister Yamazaki turned into you being his substitute with only a day’s notice. He had gotten sick with the flu and you were immediately thrust into a role you knew almost nothing about. So you took all the files related to the subject of the meeting and studied up on them the night before, turning up the next day and pulling out opinions as if you yourself spearheaded the project. The queen, upon finding out that you were new, was so impressed and had talked to Minister Yamazaki (who was still in his sickbed) over the phone about enlisting you under her employ.

It’s been five years since then. Five fast-paced, fulfilling, exciting years working closely with the royal family. At this point, your relationship with the queen is more of a friendship than strictly professional, and you’re grateful for it. The people you interact with on a daily basis are mostly considerably older than you--ministers, program leaders, the palace staff--and the talk is all business. So you’re grateful for your weekend teatime with the queen, sometimes with her children joining you, who are some of the only people your age you talk to on a regular basis, apart from the younger maids and kitchen staff. The afternoons out in the garden are the queen’s time to unwind and review everything that happened the previous week, as well as scheduling the succeeding weeks. The stress of planning therefore comes to a head on Saturdays so the week can sail by calmly.

Today is one of those Saturdays. Minister Sakaguchi had scheduled a dinner meeting with the queen yesterday--something about the upcoming fair for disenfranchised women, although you suspect Minister Sakiguchi will try to sneak in pitches for other programs she has in mind. The queen had agreed, so you penciled in the meeting into your schedule. However, the queen seemed under the weather when she came out earlier, that you had advised her to cancel it, assuring her that Minister Sakiguchi would understand. 

The queen takes a sip of her favorite rosehip and lemon tea, fingers delicate on the porcelain, and you send the email, huffing out a sigh. You place your phone facedown on the glass table and take a sugar cookie from the plate. “Just sent the email, Your Majesty,” you say. “Now you can just focus on resting tonight.” You smile as you take a bite.

Your boss smiles as she replaces the teacup on its saucer. “Thank you,” she says, relaxing against the lounge chair. “To be honest, I didn’t think Minister Sakiguchi would talk so much about the fair anyway. She probably suggested a meeting to tell me more of her ideas for the women’s sector.” You smile. Bingo. “Is anything else scheduled for tomorrow?”

You glance at your open laptop, as well as the printed-out spreadsheet on your lap. It’s an organized mess of colors and times and places and people. “Just the charity gala tomorrow night. I’ve coordinated with Subaru and she said the king will be late by an hour. Will you go alone?”

She tilts her head in thought and hums. “I don’t want to be late. Is there anyone available?”

You click through the several pinned tabs on your laptop to the tab for the royal family’s shared schedule. “It seems Princess Akari is free, as well as Prince Yuto,” you say after a moment.

“Ah, Akari will be busy designing something for the fair, I think, so maybe she won’t want to go,” the queen muses.

“So you’ll just take the prince, then? I’ll contact Daiki and ask him to notify the prince.”

“No need,” a deep, disembodied voice comes in from somewhere in the hedges before Prince Yuto pops his head into view. He walks towards the table as you clear up a space for him, closing your binder and putting that on top of the clipboard among other printouts on one of the spare chairs between you and the queen.

The prince strides across the grass in his black dress pants and long-sleeved shirt, to greet his mother. He places his hands softly on her shoulders and leans down to give her a kiss on the cheek. The queen smiles and accepts the kiss, patting a hand over one of his; her mood instantly lifts, and her posture relaxes further. As the youngest son, she dotes on him a lot; he in turn always keeps his mother company and can rarely be seen in public not by her side or his father’s. You think their relationship is sweet, and so do the many news articles posted online about it.

Prince Yuto takes a seat on the only empty chair and fixes himself a cup of tea while saying, “What’s the gala for?”

“The orphanages in the farther provinces,” the queen says as she takes a saucer and stacks it high with dark chocolate-coated cookies, pushing the small plate at her son’s direction. “Some dignitaries from other kingdoms as well as celebrities will be attending. And I will announce the new scholarship program for our state schools. There’s a chance your father won’t make it, so I’d like a companion.”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Mother,” Prince Yuto says after swallowing a bite of cookie. He turns to you. “What time is it?”

“Call time for the royals and major government officials is 7PM, and the program starts at 7:30. I’ll contact Daiki with the details as well,” you say.

The prince shakes his head, but there’s a smile on his face as he turns to the queen. “It’s such a shame, I thought you two were talking about Y/N transferring to my office,” he jokes. It’s a bit that he’s brought up many times before, and both you and the queen take it as a joke since you figure he just wants someone closer to his age with more experience than Daiki, who is about four years older and has only been working with him for two years.

The queen lets out a laugh and takes her teacup again. “What’s the matter with Daiki? He seems to be doing a good job.” Her eyes meet yours as she takes another sip, glinting in amusement.

Prince Yuto is smiling his bright, beautiful smile that the camera loves as he looks fondly at his mother. He probably got wind of her feeling run-down and hurried here to try to distract her. You know the queen is the most important person to him, and the queen may not know it, but it’s obvious to everyone else. “Well, as you know, Y/N is better,” he continues, “and Daiki-san is a stick-in-the-mud.” The teasing makes you huff out a laugh, immediately raising a hand to cover your mouth; Daiki is truly a stick-in-the-mud, even more than you are.

The queen laughs boisterously, throwing her head back. “Oh, you’re such a jokester, Yuto.” She sighs, fully relieved, and you’re thankful he decided to stop by. The queen finishes her tea and says, “Well, this was a fun teatime. I have some paperwork I have to sign, so Y/N, you may go.” She turns to her son. “It’s so nice of you to stop by, sweetheart,” she says, and leans down to drop a kiss on the crown of his head. “I’ll be seeing you both.” The queen glides away, and you briefly wonder how she can walk that gracefully in heels over damp, unpaved grass--but then you remember she’s the queen and has been doing this for years. She turns around the corner of the hedge and disappears.

You sigh and shut down your laptop, gathering your stuff as you message Daiki about the charity gala. You slide the laptop in your bag, and put all the printouts in order into a folder, before slipping everything else inside. You’re just about to get up to leave before Prince Yuto’s voice stops you.

“You sure you won’t consider transferring to my office?” you hear the prince suddenly ask. He’s looking at you, piercing eyes that make everyone in the kingdom, young and old, swoon. And if you didn’t talk to him everyday and your self-control had been any less, you would probably give in to whatever he wanted.

So you try to mask your rapidly beating heart behind a fond, teasing smile. “Well, I don’t really have a say in it. Don’t think the queen wants to let me go, anyway,” you say, taking a proffered dark chocolate-covered cookie from the prince and biting into it. The rich, slightly bitter punch of the chocolate explodes on your tongue.

The prince looks at you with a small smile. “I was serious, you know,” he says simply. “I mean, you won’t be as busy so you’ll have more free time, and the stuff I do is just small, as a minister for cultural arts. I split it with another person.”

You’re already shaking your head. “I like my job. I love working for the queen and seeing the results of what she’s done. You know she’s been my role model since I was a teenager, so this is a dream for me. And as much as I want a break sometimes, I can’t let this opportunity go.” You sigh, heart heavy now, and stand. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

He stands with you. “I know I’ve told you to call me just ‘Yuto’ before, didn’t I?”

“But decorum--,”

“Yeah, fine, practice etiquette in public, but when we’re alone you can just call me by my name.” You don’t answer, and hesitantly purse your lips. And then the prince begins to pout. “Come on, if you don’t wanna work for me, at least call me Yuto.” He presses the tips of his index fingers together and says, “I miss you,” so cutely, with his big puppy dog eyes and hilariously deep voice that’s sorely out of place for the cutesy thing he’s trying to do.

You have to laugh, bending down at the waist and steadying yourself with the table as you cackle. “Fine, fine,” you relent. “I’ll call you Yuto in private from now on.” You heave your heavy bag up onto your shoulder with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

***

“You look beautiful tonight,” someone says behind you. You turn carefully, eyes meeting Yuto, in another black ensemble: turtleneck under an overcoat with black dress pants and boots. His hair is slicked back artfully, apart from the stray locks of hair that insist on falling over his eyes. Simple, but very handsome; the paparazzi and journalists must be having a field day with that outfit.

And you look down at yourself: standard black satin-and-chiffon off-shoulder gown that you usually wear to these types of stuff. Your shoes are your everyday pair, and you’re thankful that the dress comes all the way to the floor because they are getting scuffed at the tip. Your hair is wavy, the result of sleeping in a braid through twelve hours, but you manage to tame it into a loose bun that’s mostly out of your face. The only accessory you have is the necklace you’ve worn since your mother passed down to you six or seven years ago. Makeup is minimal because you are here to assist, not be the center of attention. Everything you put into your appearance tonight is just to make sure you look clean and professional. And invisible.

You roll your eyes at the prince. “Your Highness, I look like this everytime the queen needs to go somewhere fancy. I don’t think ‘beautiful’ is the right word.” You know he means well, but you’re just plain, from your shoes to your face to your position in society, you’re just simple, unremarkable.

The prince furrows his brows and takes his place standing beside you. “You are, though. You may not see it, but I do.” He casts you a quick glance before turning his focus to the stage, where a popular singer is performing one of her new songs onstage as an opening act. “And those photographers over there see it, too.”

You whip your head at him before scanning the event hall for any cameras pointed at you, heart pounding hard in your chest. You don’t spot any, but you still say, “I think you had better take your seat, Your Highness. I bet those people just want to make a scandal out of nothing.” Prince Yuto may be the youngest out of the royal children, but that does not mean he is risk-free. He is being trained for the position of Minister of Culture and the Arts; he has a large following of young people who look up to him as a leader and as a person; he is one of the most important people in your life, and you can’t bear for anything bad to happen to him.

The work tablet you brought is getting crushed in your folded arms from how tight you’re clutching it. “I’m going to find Daiki--,” you say softly, making to leave, but getting stopped once again by the prince.

He’s holding one of your arms gently, but strong enough to pull you back beside him. “It’s okay,” he says. “Let them. It’s fine.”

You pull your arm away. “Your Highness, it’s not fine. You can’t risk a scandal blowing up on you right now. Everyone has eyes on you, even if you don’t think so.” You’re worried. The last thing you want is for him to get in trouble because of you.

The prince sighs. “Y/N, there’s not gonna be a scandal if we’re actually together.”

You take a moment to think. “What? You want us to pretend to be a couple? I don’t think it’s a good idea; people might get the misconception that you’re slacking off, or--,”

“No, I mean--,” he sighs frustrated, more at himself than at you, but he keeps his composure and his face remains stoic; you both are still in public, after all. “I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while now, but I just didn’t know how to say it, and I certainly didn’t plan on telling you at a charity event where hundreds of people could hear.” He’s rambling--a sign that he’s nervous, unprepared.

Prince Yuto takes a calming breath before fully facing you. “I like you, Y/N,” he says softly, aware of the number of ears that are possibly listening in. “I’ve liked you since the day you started working for my mom, and I liked you even more the longer you stayed. You’re a hard worker, you’re dedicated to your job, you genuinely care for the queen and the things she does for the people. And I’m thankful that I got close to you as much as I have because you do mean a lot to me. I know I don’t show it, because I’m not sure how to show it, and I don’t know how you would react to it. But I do like you. Very much.” He releases a breath and looks you in the eye. “So will you try? To be with me?”

All this you take in with wide eyes and a shocked-open mouth. You know the prince is not the most outgoing person; he’s most relaxed when he is with people he knows, which are limited to his family and their secretaries, along with some of the senior palace staff. You’ve never seen him in a pickle of trying to get someone’s attention, but you do remember him offering to carry your heavy work back once or twice and you insisting on carrying yourself; him telling you that you look beautiful even if you wear the same plain things all the time; him giving you a box of (really expensive) chocolate for Valentine’s Day on the excuse of “I gave all the royal family’s employees chocolates”; him giving you a piece of his favorite chocolate cookies, even though you’ve never seen him offer them to anyone else.

All this time he’s been telling you how he feels and you’ve never noticed. And you yourself can’t even tell him the same because you don’t want to risk the prince getting hurt, you getting hurt, the queen getting hurt because of your selfishness. Your work is important to you, and you can’t jeopardize it for your happiness.

But here he is, Prince Yuto. Being brave enough to know the uncertainty of what lies ahead and being prepared to face it, if you answer him; if you push aside your fear of messing up and tell him you like him back; if, for once, you look to your heart instead of thinking of your work.

He stands tall beside you, an imposing figure of grace and compassion. A man people look up to. A leader who is innovative, yet respects traditions. A role model for young people who are inspired by his music, his acts of service to everyone. A son that is loved by his parents, a brother that is loved by his siblings. A friend who listens and is always there, but always pushes you out of your comfort zone.

How can you not fall for him?

How can you say no, when everything around you points to yes?

You’re nodding your head before you know it, still too shocked to properly process the last five minutes. “Yes. Yes, I’ll try being with you.”

The blinding smile is back, and you can’t help but return it. The prince nods, unable to suppress the grin on his face and gestures to the audience, milling about finding their tables. “I’ll be on my way, then. Find my mother.” He clears his throat, fidgets about with his coat and pockets. “Good luck for the rest of the night,” he says with a nod, before leaving.

You just curtsy, still beaming and your heart is drumming in your chest like crazy, but it feels light. Like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders and you can take flight at any moment, straight into his arms.

[tgai-spock]

Lines of ice from rolling waves and subtle villains

So we arrive on earth.

Chapter 2

Earth was chaos. Vulcan cities may have been overflowing with people who never learnt to mind their own business, where privacy was afforded only in relation to ones personal life and behind closed doors, but earth was chaos. Was anyone paying attention to anyone else? Both yes and no, several times loud rowdy men pointed at Spock and shouted:

“Oi! Vulcan,” why he had no idea.  He’d never seen vulcans do this even by those who hated him for being a hybrid. Was it a statement of fact made by those who were mentally disabled, and was this gesture innocent, the same as a child pointing at a sky and saying, blue? Or was it something more violent? It was by the way, the sky, blue. Which was weird, there was little blue on vulcan, the seas were pink, the skies orange, although many of his clothes were blue, it was different seeing the colour where it naturally occurred. Other groups shouted at him too. Groups of girls huddled in groups would suddenly grow 3 times the size and point at him.

“Mother, at least on vulcan the vulcans pretend they aren’t talking about me. Send me back.” Spock said as they walked past another group. His mother, who was the only one he was shopping with looked more stressed than she had at his whining that the school was illogical, and that he was going to choose magic as a serious study course if he was forced to attend. That didn’t seem to bother his mother all that much, but it did make his father twitch in ways he hadn’t seen before, so he had put it down as one of his options along with science and computers. Of course his father wanted him to do computers, and math. 

“Maybe we should get you a hat. You could wear my scarf for now” Amanda motioned as she went to untie her scarf.

“If I even begin to remotely look like a girl I’m going to kill myself” Spock said. Amanda sighed.

“Listen, don’t let their shouting bother you. In school that will completely disappear, it won’t be stood for at all. They have plenty of other aliens attend, they can’t have people just shouting out species randomly. I feel the people out today our rather dim, and drunk.”

Spock shrugged “fine. But only because I’ve been called worse and they’re validating the fact I’m vulcan.” Amanda sighed, she wished her son wouldn’t say things like this. He wished this wasn’t true for him.

“Can you read the email and remind me what we need to buy?” Amanda asked “I’ve forgotten.” Spock flicked up his lightweight tablet that he had been carrying in his hand non-stop for the past three days.

The Letter:

For first years attending the school each pupil must bring with them the following :

General Lessons:

Notebooks for each lesson, at least one new one per term.

General stationary, including pens, pencils, scissors, gluesticks, and celllotape.

Scientific Calculator

Protractor and compass

Shorts for p.e, unacceptable clothes include jorts. Shorts may be any colour but no patterns, pictures, characters, or 100 pictures of Nickolas Cages face may be on them.

Jogging bottoms/leggings (plain in colour, no patterns).

Suitable shirt or jumper for p.e (no slogans or patterns.)

Hairbands/bobbles 

Tablet

If magic is a chosen subject they will need to bring:

Tarot cards

Tea Cup

Crystal ball

Spock hummed as he read through the items that were relevant to him, and they stopped outside a sports shop.

“Why does this say first years on it?” Spock asked.

“Oh, sometimes parents think their children will be better in a school that caters for children between the ages of 11-14 as they’re still very young. This is a school for older 15—17 year olds. Isn’t that good?”

“How?”

“You won’t be alone on your first day of school.” Amanda said.

“I guess” Spock said as he tried to work out if there were any benefits (currently Spock’s new slogan was ‘I guess’ but what it actually meant was ‘I have no idea how that makes sense’). They entered the sports shop.

The walked around aisles to the shorts and jogging bottom sections. Spock picked up plainest, blackest pair of each he could find.

“You can wear colour now.” Amanda encouraged.

“I don’t want to.”

“You could.”

“And yet I’m not going to.” Spock said and Amanda sighed, she could see this wasn’t going to be an argument she won. They walked past some hats and Amanda puts a black cap over his head, that was just large enough to go over his ears.

“Mother. I don’t need a hat.” Spock said.

“I don’t want you to hide who you are, but it would be nice for people to stop yelling at you. At least while we’re walking down the street.” Amanda says the words as though she is stabbing herself with each one.

“So a hat is going to solve this.” 

“It might.. reduce the amount of shouts” Amanda reasoned “you don’t have to if you think thats worse.” Spock took off the black cap and picked up a sparkling silver hat, that was enough to make an elder vulcan faint on the spot. He put it on his head. Amanda grinned.

“You may have that hat.”

“Oh” Spock said, this hadn’t been what he wanted at all.

“Your father will hate it. And I’ll get you the black one too incase you suddenly find it too garish.” Amanda said.

“Okay but, I’m going to wear this non-stop as soon as I get back to vulcan. ” Spock said although he had absolutely no plans to do so, if the vulcan sun reflected of this hat there seemed to be a great possibility that it would kill someone else upon immediate impact.

“You can, I am allowing it.” Amanda said. Spock didn’t know how to react. His mothers logical boundaries must have disappeared into the atmosphere as soon as they arrived on earth.

The walked around to the sports bra section, and Amanda stopped suddenly. Spock almost bumped into her. Spock looked about awkwardly.

“Wrong section” he said.

“The thing about human school is you will be expected to do sports in front of other people.”

“And.”

“You can’t do that in a binder.”

“And yet I will.”

“No you won’t” Amanda said quietly but with such force it was enough to stop him in his tracks. She picks up a few.

“Do you want black or another colour.”

“Black.”

“Okay.”

“Now we need tarot cards, a tea-cup and a crystal ball.” Spock said looking down at his tablet despite having already memorised them.

“Do you want to try these on? Check they fit?” Amanda asked.

“No. Where are we going to get this stuff? Is this stuff even real?”

“Oh I looked up a little place around here” Amanda said and lead the way to the changing rooms.

“I said no” Spock said.

“I am saving you. You do not want to do p.e in clothes you’re not comfortable in, go try them on.”

“They’re the right size.”

“It’s completely different to finding out if their comfortable, go on.”

* * *

There was a lot of crystal balls in the shop display. Every inch his eyes looked on, sparkled with crystals. Crystals on necklaces, crystals on rings, crystals on pendulums - and a number of dragon ornaments. 

“I should not have chosen magic” Spock sighs already defeated, Amanda laughs.

“Don’t think we don’t know you did that on purpose, your going through with it now” Amanda laughs pushing her son forward. They walk in through a dark blue door, and a bell above their heads rings as they enter.

“Good morning” a woman, with curly straw like hair behind a till greets them.

“Morning” Amanda replies “do you have any tarot cards?”

“I have a few selections available at the back” she points “would you like help choosing one?”

“No thank you” Amanda says and they walk in the direction the lady had pointed, around tables full of small gems with a ‘buy 4 get 1 free’ deal around them. The back of the store was different, slightly less gems appearing and more wooden rings. Much to Spock’s confusion, there were several wands and tall staffs with fancy curved wood tops.

“Why?” Spock asks pointing to a staff.

“Walking stick” says Amanda.

“Why?” Spock asks pointing to the wand.

“Religious practices. Your the one that choose magic, my aunt used to practice you know.”

“Is that the one married to the uncle who tried to kill me?” Spock asked.

Amanda sighed “well she’s divorced him now.”

“Erm” a voice from behind them, the shop keeper with wide eyes and a few extra packs of tarot cards in her arms said “I just remembered my shipment arrived this morning with some different tarot styles, so I thought I’d set them out for you.”

“Oh, thank you” Amanda said as the lady walked forwards and put down several extra packs. Amanda picked up one pack covered in cats, Spock picked up one that was black.

“You can take them out and have a look if you’d like, just remember to put them all back in.” The lady says and backs away, Amanda nods.

“This one” Spock says and chooses the cards that are all black except for the symbols outline on them, such as the 8 of swords which had 8 rainbow swords on it.

“Are you sure?” Amanda asks showing off the cats “I bet I could custom order one like this, but with sehlats instead.”

“I’m sure.” Spock said. Amanda shakes her head as they walk back over to the till.

“Well at least this has been quick. Excuse me do you have any crystal balls? The type you can see the future in.” Amanda asked

“Strange” the woman says “you’re the seventeenth person to ask me that.”

“There is a school nearby that has magic lessons, this is one of the requirements.” Amanda informs her.

“Oh” says the woman with her teeth as she looks up to her ceiling for a moment “yeah that would make sense. I thought everyone must just be like geeze, that Gandalf guys, pretty neat.”

Amanda nodded “I’m aware it’s a new school, is it new this year then, or is this a new shop?”

“Oh, I only brought the place a few months ago” the woman says as she places a large crystal on the bench “I guess I should check out the requirements that school has and get some  in stock. Whats it called?”

“Saint Daimon’s" Amanda nodded.

“Nice, modern. Hey I’ll tell you what, if you buy this big crystal ball I’ll give you and your son a discount on any of these protection stones. Never hurts to have a little extra help” she says and she waves her hand over a collection of different sized gems, some smooth, some rough like rocks.

“Would you like a magical stone for protection?” Amanda asks Spock calmly. Spock picks up a hand size rough orange stone covered in blue lines. He chucks it up into the air and catches in neatly in his palm.

“Yes. This looks like a protection stone” Spock says and places it next to the tarot cards and crystal ball. Amanda eyes him suspiciously.

“I don’t like how you handled that at all.” Amanda says.

“You said I could have the protection stone.” Spock says with one raised eyebrow.

“Is that all I can help you with?” The woman asks.

“Yes thank you.”

“Card or print?”

“Print” Amanda says as the woman types up the cost into her till.

[Chapter 1]         [Chapter 2]         [Chapter 3]          [Chapter 4]

[Chapter 5]         [Chapter 6]

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Eighty-Four: Apple Pie ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Though he never would have thought as much when he was first shoehorned into this class, Sasuke has to admit...Home Ec has grown on him. While he’s still a good student and honestly enjoys most of his classes at least somewhat, there’s just something really...nice about that class in particular. Sure, it’s not just baking cookies everyday, but it’s become a nice change of pace compared to everything else.

He tells himself it’s because the class is just so...different. He’s actually learning some handy skills, even if most guys wouldn’t bother. He’s handier in the kitchen than ever, knows several ways to sew by hand (and how to use a machine), and they’ve even broached into things like human development. Never did he think he’d know so much about babies...but, well, you never know. Maybe he’ll have to...deal with one someday.

But if he’s honest with himself - truly honest - there’s another very big factor to why he’s come to enjoy the class as much as he does.

Strolling into his last block of the day, Sasuke finds himself to be a little early, and almost alone. There’s an away basketball game, and several of the girls typically present are absent, either as part of the team, or the cheer squad. Along the whiteboard, he reads the daily instructions. Apparently, given the low class percentage, they’re just having a free day.

Before he can stop himself, Sasuke perks up...because he knows exactly what that’s going to mean.

“Hi, everyone!”

Turning, he gives a lax wave to the only other senior in the class: Hinata Hyūga. “Hey. Seems we’ve got a free day with the game today.”

“Oh?” Like him, she seems to brighten at the notion. “That’s great! I’ve had a recipe I’ve been wanting to try with you!”

“Yeah?” Sasuke does his best to temper his reaction, despite the warmth the notion brings him. “Something we can finish in class?”

“Well...it might go a little over...is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ve got nothing to do. A few teachers lightened up because of the game, so I’ve got hardly any homework.”

“Me too! O-okay, we’ll do it then!” Digging into her binder, she pulls out a recipe with a grin. “Apple pie!”

Sasuke blinks, looking the paper over. “...is it very sweet?”

“Well, sort of...but the apples are a bit sour, so that sort of...balances it out?”

“...okay.” He won’t admit it, but he’s not quite so put off by sweets anymore. Not since meeting Hinata.

The pair move to the kitchen wall, first gathering their ingredients and a pie plate. “So I actually use a different pie crust recipe...it’s just a few ingredients you mix and press in the plate, and bake with the rest of the pie! It’s so much easier than rolling stuff out,” Hinata offers, flipping the page over and showing the separate crust instructions. “You want to do that, first?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Great! I’ll start peeling and cutting the apples!”

Having not actually made a pie yet, Sasuke follows the recipe carefully, wary of messing something up. But true to Hinata’s word, it’s actually pretty simple. Mixing up the handful of ingredients, he smoothes it along the bottom before announcing, “Okay, now what?”

“Here, mix up the spices and sugar for the apples - I’m almost done!”

He does as asked, not bothering to quip or question. By now, the pair have done enough baking together to just know how to go about it. Hinata leads, and Sasuke follows. In all reality, he’s probably gotten enough practice to lead himself, but...well, he hasn’t given that a try just yet.

Hinata pours his mix over the sliced apples, coating them well and putting them in the pie plate atop the crust. “All right, I think we’ll do the Dutch style topping.”

“...what’s that mean?”

“It’s a crumbly sort of top, rather than a solid sheet of crust!” She shows him how, pulsing the ingredients in a food processor until they form, well...crumbles! “Now we just spread this over the top...and there we have a pie! It has to bake for about fifty minutes, so...we’ll run over class by a little bit. But I don’t think the teacher minds.”

With the oven already hot, it’s Sasuke who puts it in, setting the timer. They tidy up, and then...it’s time to wait.

As per usual, they pass the time on their phones, the instructor hardly caring on such a relaxed day. Hinata plays a mobile game, Sasuke browsing a forum he frequents.

But eventually they get bored.

“So...what’s your favorite kind of pie?”

“I honestly don’t eat much of it. Too sweet most of the time.”

Hinata makes a face. “I still don’t understand that…”

“Well what about you?”

“I’d say...lemon meringue.”

“Lemon?”

“Mhm!”

“What’s...meringue?”

“It’s egg whites and sugar, beaten together until it’s light and fluffy! You bake it, and the tops turn a light brown...it’s so good. Maybe we’ll try one next time! It’s actually pretty simple.”

“I could maybe do lemon if it isn’t too sweetened.”

The bell eventually rings, and the pair linger, their teacher more than used to them staying past the bell. It’s not too long before the timer dings, and Sasuke retrieves the pie. It actually smells...really good! Cinnamon and nutmeg just might make it tolerable.

“Want some ice cream?”

“Is...pie really not enough?”

“Apple pie and vanilla ice cream are like...a match made in heaven!”

“I’ll pass.”

“How about caramel sauce?”

Sasuke blinks owlishly. “...I think it’ll be sweet enough.”

Hinata dishes some up, indulging in a little bit of some ice cream left over from the day they all made a batch by hand. And then she seems to hover in wait, eager as always to see his reaction.

Sasuke takes a bite of his own, chewing thoughtfully. “...I like it.”

“Yay!”

“It’s not so sweet.”

“I went a little light on the sugar for you.” Hinata then digs into hers, humming happily.

“...you know...I’m gonna be really sad when this class is over.”

That makes her pause. “...are you...switching next semester?”

“Dunno yet. But I only needed the half a credit.”

“Oh...well, I was going to stay. There aren’t really any classes I need in this block next semester.” She gives a halfhearted smile. “It’ll be sort of l-lonely without you.”

“Yeah...I’ll have to see what the guidance counselor says. My dad’s riding me pretty hard about pumping up my grades for applications.”

“Well, that makes sense. It’s important. I’m still not sure what I’m doing next year, so...I’ll admit I took a bit of an easier road than I could have.”

“It’s different for everybody. Gotta do what makes you happy, too.”

“Yeah…”

The pair sink into a slightly awkward silence. In truth, he’d be more than happy to stay. And surely his mother would support it. His father, on the other hand…

“Well, if you do switch, I’m still glad you were in here,” Hinata then offers, smiling a bit more warmly. “It’s been a lot of f-fun teaching you stuff!”

“Yeah? It’s been nice learning it. Maybe we can still make some stuff after school sometimes, when we’re not too bogged down.”

“I...I’d like that!”

“Then consider it a plan.”

The atmosphere then lightens until he gives the clock a glance. “But, speaking of...it’s getting kinda late. Think we should go?”

“Probably...want to take some pie home?”

“Sure.”

They each take a few slices, Sasuke sure his mother would like some. If only Itachi were home, but...well, that won’t be until Winter break. The pair part ways in the hallway, Sasuke going to pack up his stuff for the evening. The thought returns as to what to do come the end of the semester.

He really does want to stay...and surely half a credit won’t make that big of a difference, right? Maybe he’ll talk to Mikoto about it...sighing and picking up his bag, he leaves the school behind, apple pie carefully nestled in his backpack.

                                                       .oOo.

     (This is a sequel to days 98, 108, 139, and 227!)      I have...fallen another day behind OTL Yesterday was just exhausting, in more ways than one, so...I took the night off. I'm sorry ;n; I probably won't have time to catch up until at least the end of October since I have another challenge going on, but! Hopefully by the end of the year I'll be done on the last day, aha~      Anyway! More of our cute lil Home Ec AU. I really do love this one, it's just so stinkin' sweet. But it seems we have a little bit of a plot conflict...Sasuke might be leaving the class? Say it ain't so! We'll have to see what his decision is come the end of the semester, but...at least he and Hinata will keep on keepin' on no matter what!      But with that, I really need to get to bed, lol - thanks for reading!

[pendragonfics]

I

Lost Time: Part One | Part Two

Paring: Conner Kent/Reader

Tags: female reader, Poor Reader, high school, Conner Kent has feelings, angst, fluff.

Summary: You're just a poor kid, living out of her parent's caravan in Happy Harbour. Little do you know when a new kid, Conner, arrives at school, your life will never be the same again.

Word Count: 2,531

Current Date: 2018-04-15

Nobody really liked High School. It was, for everyone, an awkward phase in which you were trying to get through unscathed, and you weren’t very good at that. While everyone else was working on being a great cheerleader, a nerdy enough geek, a good jock, or a skilled student. But after school, you didn’t want to burn out in a caravan to be forever forgotten in Happy Harbour, no. You wanted to be an artist, and, while there were the cliques of all sorts, you didn’t fit into the categories.

Thus, you, ________, were a freak.

It was okay, back in freshmen year. But now as a junior, the end in reach, you felt like all the eyes in the school were always on you and your binder full of doodles. It wasn’t helpful, either, that you had a habit of being a little flustered around the popular crowd; it wasn’t your fault you were shy. It made for many pranks, and no matter what you did, they never lessened off.

You were staying in after school, waiting for the photography club to meet on the school athletic field. They usually started at four thirty, but for some reason, the cheer squad were on the track. Sitting in the bleachers, drawing pad in hand, you worked a little sketch of the people you saw. While you usually drew faces in profile, it was a little harder to the side, and so removed. You tried to get a good sketch of Wendy Harris, but it just wasn’t working for you. After a few tries, you took your eraser to the page.

But that’s when you hear a thwomp! and suddenly the boy who had been accompanying the recruit to the Bumblebees has fallen from the bottom step to the bleachers, and face first to the ground. He’s wearing a black tee, jeans, and army boots, and with a face full of dirt and messed-up hair, you pause, breath held.

You sit there, frozen where you’ve sat upon the bleachers, watching as the cheerleaders laugh at him, calling him names. It’s then when something in your chest tightens, and your breath comes out slowly, lips ajar. Oh no, you think, he’s cute.

Later, when the cheer team have cleared the area, and the photography club gather around with their gear that you catch up with a fellow stranger to the common ground of friends and the game of popularity. Marvin White. But when you mention the guy to him, he shrugs, pulling the strap of his camera around his neck.

“Uh, I don’t know, ________,” he says, taking the lens cap off, “He and his friend Megan started today. They’re in our year.”

From your backpack, you took out your little flip phone, and opened the camera function. “Cool, White. Does he have a name, or just Megan…?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t know, Cameron? Conner? Why do you care, ________?”

“I don’t know, Marvin.” you shake your head, and before you go off to meet with the club leader, you turn to him, and whisper, “Just don’t tell anyone, okay? Or I’ll do something drastic.”

“Who knew freak wallflowers could be so scary?” Marvin grins, going to ruffle your hair. At the last minute, you shift away, and instead, he laces an arm around your shoulder as if you’re old friends. “Okay, ________,” he promises, “your secret’s safe with me.”

---

While you don’t mind history class, Mr. Carr doesn’t like it when people draw in the margins of his pop quiz papers. Which makes it your least-liked class of all. Too many times have you argued with him about it, too many times have you gotten detention for it, and too many times have your fellow classmates snickered behind your back about it. So today, instead of doodling to your imagination’s content upon the page, you take a biro to your skin.

“Ahem, ________,” Mr. Carr intones, narrowing his eyes at you. “If you were paying attention, you’d know that you’re paired with Mr. Kent for the group assignment.” He looks between you, and Conner, who sits three rows behind you, and groans. “Now, as everyone else had done, Miss ________, move beside your partner.”

There are giggles from classmates, and quietly with a roaring heat across your face and neck, you pack up your things into your arms and lug in three rows behind to Conner. He gives you a small nod, and wordlessly, passes a sheet of paper with the word assignment brief written in a computerised font.

“I’m ________,” you tell him quietly.

The whispers increase, as does the shade of embarrassment upon your face. In daydreams, you had thought of any other scenario than this to introducing yourself. Where you’d appear to be a cool kid. Maybe slightly popular. Edgy? No, that wasn’t you. You were just…you. ________ ________, the kid whose parents on welfare couldn’t afford to buy you shoes in fourth grade, ________, who had outdated textbooks and reused everything.

He gives you a small smile. “I’m Conner.” He says, and looking past you, glares at a bully, “Are they bothering you?”

You shake your head, not wanting to cause a scene. “Please, let’s just – uh, focus on the assignment.” You read over the typeface, and say, “It says it’s for out of classroom time. Maybe we could meet at your place –,”

Conner shakes his head. “Can’t. My – uh, family don’t like friends over.”

You nod understandingly. “Yeah, same. Maybe we could meet at the library?” you suggest, and add quickly, “Are you free Saturday, after the football game?”

“Sure,” He says, making a note of it, just as the bell rings. “See you Saturday, ________.”

But, you did not see him Saturday. The other days of the week dragged on and on, your classes a hellish nightmare to get through, and yet, when Saturday arrived, and you waited for two hours after the football game out the front of the public library until the librarians came out and told you it was time to leave, you couldn’t help yourself. Deflated, in both expectation and pride, you made the walk home from the library to the caravan park, knowing what rumours would be made by Monday.

You kicked a rock as you walked, hands in your pockets, head low. You’d thought Conner Kent was different than the other kids. That he was an outcast, like you.

You were wrong.

---

Come Monday, you barely find the energy to pull yourself out of bed, but you do. It might be halfway through the first term, sure, but if there was one thing about you, it was that you weren’t a quitter. And so, you hitched a ride into town with your neighbour, Bob, and strode into the gates of the school like you had nothing to lose. You walked into homeroom, and then into first period history, and kept your eyes ahead when he entered the room.

“________,” he says, walking by your desk. Your eyes are to your page, where your pen, instead of drawing the doodle of the day, is taking notes from your textbook. “Hey, ________, I’m sorry about what happened. I had a family thing come up.”

“A family thing?” you glance to Conner, unsure. “So, you weren’t doing it to make fun of me?” you ask, having to get it out in the air.

He shakes his head. “We had a…reunion. In Metropolis. They’re big into last minute stuff, and I didn’t have your phone number to text –,”

You nod. “I get it.”

Conner frowns. “You’re not mad, are you? I get it, if you are.”

You hesitate, taking a breath, and then, instead of using the words you had intended with that breath, you breathe out. “I –,”

“Mr. Kent, Miss ________,” Mr. Carr enunciates your names as if you’re in trouble. You can just hear him tearing off a detention slip already, and you sit further in your chair. But instead, he says, “…talking about the group assignment?”

Conner nods, arms crossed. “Yes sir,” he declares.

Mr. Carr smiles, turning to the blackboard with a thin stick of chalk. “Don’t chat too long, class is about to start.” He glances over his shoulder to you, and adds, “It’s good to see you’re participating, ________,” he says, kindly. “If you keep this up, you’re on track for a B!”

Before he leaves to his desk, Conner passes you a folded note.

In block letters, you read, LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU. CAFETERIA, LUNCH. MY TABLE.

When lunch rolls around, you’re hesitant; last time there was an invitation to sit with people, it ended with your food through your hair, your sketchbook stolen, and humiliation. But tray in hand, you see Conner at the back of the room, sitting with a girl with red hair. She looks a bit like the reruns of your Mom’s favourite show, Hello, Megan! – in fact, come to think of it, she’s the new cheerleader. Before you can turn away and walk to your usual lunchtime haunt, they see you, and wave.

“Hey, ________,” Conner calls out.

Megan waves. “Oh, you’re ________? Conner’s told me so much about you!” She grins, waving you over to sit opposite her. “I’m Megan Morse.” She introduces. You frown, thinking back to when Marvin said they were friends. She’s literally the American dream girl, and here you are, wearing dorky second-hand clothes. “I better catch up with Wendy, we’ve got cheer practice this afternoon.” She gives you both a wide smile, and ruffles Conner’s hair. “Don’t wait up, I’ll get Uncle John to get me.”

Once Megan’s gone to the cheerleader’s table, you take the assignment brief from your bag. “I was thinking of splitting the work sort of fifty-fifty…” you begin, pointing out your notes. “…that way we get more covered. Is that okay?”

He nods. “Sure.”

---

Five years pass like agony. But the real pain is that in your entire body – you can’t quite remember what made you come back to your hometown but laying in the rubble of what used to be the third floor of the old steel factory, you’re trying not to cry. Your leg trapped, fire breaking out somewhere nearby you know this is the end. You came from a home of nothing, and just like any other background character, would always go back to nothing. In the morning, the papers would report you along with the others who had been in the building’s hourly tour as numbers dead, and not names.

“There’s still more people in there!”

Your breathing quickens, blinking. There’s people looking for survivors? Of course, there are. You live in a world with Batman, and Green Arrow, and the rest of the Justice League. You go to shout, to alert the person looking for you to your location, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a squawk. You almost expect it to be someone from the fire department, but, when you feel a pressure releasing from your leg, it’s not a firefighter.

“Conner?” you say, bleary.

You get a look at the person scooping you into his arms; he has the same dark hair, the same face. Except, you notice, before your eyes grow heavy, he’s wearing an S on his chest like the Blue Boy-Scout of Metropolis.

“Hold on, ________,” your hero says, moving to escape the crumbling building.

“Superboy,” you whisper, trying to stay awake. “Thank y-you.” But it’s no use, and, it’s all dark.

When you come to, you’re not in your dingy hotel room, or in afterlife. It looks like a government facility, or something underground hollowed out to be a place habitable by humans. It’s a bedroom, you come to realise; you’re on a bed, wearing a black t-shirt that isn’t yours.

You blink.

“Hello…?” you call out.

It’s then you remember the accident. You’ve been spending your days interning for the Daily Planet newspaper, trying to chase stories to keep the rent paid and your electricity on. It’s not easy living on it, but when you pieced together a mystery that lead back home to Happy Harbour’s own old steel works factory, you thought you had the gold. Not a death wish. There had been a flash of light, and a laugh, and diving out of the way, you had narrowly escaped a bomb – just not the rubble.

“Hello?” you call out again. You go to move off the bed, but it’s then you realise your leg that had been trapped is discoloured with an array of bruises. “Ah,” you groan.

The door opens.

You thought it had been a dream, but no, it’s real – it’s Conner Kent, the boy you had a crush on in junior year of high school, and senior year too. He’s wearing the same shirt he wore when you saw him in the steel works building, and a soft frown.

“What are you doing up? You need rest.” He says.

You harrumph. “Still blunt as always, Conner.” You note, obeying his instruction. Not that you could do anything else. “So…have you always been a superhero?” you ask.

“Yes,” He nods sharply, and, taking a seat beside the bed, adds, “Can I get you anything?”

“Answers? Glass of water?” You shrug. “You were the only friend I really had, you know. They called me a freak.”

“They called me a freak too,” Conner ruminates, and gesturing to the side table, you see a mug of water. “But I am, I’m an experiment made from Superman’s DNA.” He gives you a wan smile, and says, “I haven’t seen you since graduation, what are you up to?”

“Not superhero stuff,” you reply.

He raises a brow.

“I’m a junior reporter for the Daily Planet,” you explain. “…but mostly a gopher. I thought if I chased the story, I’d get the attention I deserved in my workplace.”

Conner frowns, “It’s never that easy.” He blinks, “what about your art? You used to have a doodle pad, didn’t you?”

“No, I don’t really draw much these days. I’m a people-watcher.” You say, sipping your water. Your eyes widen, realising your notebook is nowhere to be seen. You run a hand into your hairline, defeated. “Oh no, my notebook!”

He shifts where he sits, pulling out a familiar faux leather-bound A5 notebook. “I checked out your notes, ________.” He turns the pages and shows you what he’s been looking at. You feel a blush take over your face – it’s a sketch of Superboy, from the first time you saw him on the TV nightly news. Conner flips more pages, more pictures of himself. “You’re really good, ________,” he says, voice small.

“Thank you, Conner,” you whisper.

A beat passes between the two of you, and he asks, “uh, could I take you out for lunch sometime? To make up for you being hurt.”

You giggle at the absurdity, “But – but you saved me!” you protest. “You don’t have to make up anything to me!”

He shrugs, “How about for lost time?” He says, getting out of his seat, to sit beside you on the bed.

“Sounds great, Superboy.”

[michael-hearteyes-wheeler]

Please do Mileven with #45!! PS I love your blog

Oops this got long! Thank you for the request !

45. “You look pretty hot in plaid.”

El had developed a bad habit.

She likes to steal people’s clothes. Well not steal, but borrow. She had worn other peoples clothes for so long out of necessity, that now it just made her feel safe. She would sneak into Hoppers drawers for an oversized t-shirt, or a warm flannel, she would wear one of Mikes jackets home and then just forget to give it back at the end of the night.

It became a pattern that her friends all caught on too right away when their wardrobes were suddenly picked over. So once every couple of weeks she would have to begrudgingly return everything. Dustin’s camp sweatshirt, lucas bandana, Max’s black high tops, Hoppers various t-shirts, and all of Mike’s jackets.

El liked holding onto these items because it made her feel like her friends were always close, even when they were at school all week. It made it easier when the nightmares got bad, or when her flashbacks haunted her while she was alone all day. At first it was sweet, and kind of cute; but now it was just part of the routine. No one questioned when their clothes went missing, and El always returned them eventually.

But now it was the coldest February in Hawkins in over 15 years, and Mikes warmest jackets were all mysteriously missing. He rolled his eyes looking over his nearly empty closet and pulled on a light sweater. It wasn’t nearly enough for the bike ride he was about to endure, but it would be worth it.

Mike and El always got to spend Sundays together, not every Sunday but almost. He had woken up extra early today, before the sun even rose because he was extra excited for this Sunday meetup in particular. Because today, Hopper wasn’t going to be there.

The police chief was a few towns over at some important law enforcement conference, it was a new year and that meant new regulations. The chief had reluctantly let Mike and El keep their date, and Mike was as giddy as a school girl to have entire day alone with El. Alone time did not happen very often, and he would make good use of every second of it.

The nearly 30 minute bike ride in the bitter cold made Mike feel like his fingers and ears were going to freeze off, but as he walked his bike up the path towards the secluded cabin, he couldn’t help but feel warm inside. The sun had just started to rise, casting a golden light over the snowy forest, and shining brightly through the plume of smoke rising out of the cabins chimney. He walked up to the door and knocked the secret knock, that familiar nervous feeling filling his stomach. He wondered if that feeling would ever go away, part of him hoped it never did.

A few minutes passed and the door remained closed, not a single sound coming from inside. He knocked again, slightly louder this time and the locks clicked open one by one. He pushed the door open but found the living room empty.

“El?” He called out, setting his backpack down and closing the door behind him. He heard a faint grubbly reply coming from her room and he chuckled. She was still asleep! “Can I come in?” He asked through the small crack in the door. Another mumbled reply that sounded somewhat like a yes came from behind and he pushed the door open.

El was curled up in bed under two quilts. Her face was smashed against her pillow so that only one foggy eye could look up at Mike. She sat up slowly, stretching and rubbing her tired eyes. Her messy curls stuck up in the back, and she had a smear of dried drool on her cheek. Mike couldn’t help but smile. Even like this she was beautiful.

“Its early.” She whined, pushing the comforters off of her.

“I know, i’m sorry I woke you up. I was just excited to see you.” Mike played with the hem of his shirt nervously. He hoped she wasn’t upset, he knew how cranky she could be without enough sleep.

“S’okay.” She mumbled, standing up and walking towards the boy. Mike could now see she was in fact not only wearing his warmest plaid flannel, but she was also wearing one of his t-shirts, and a pair of his sweatpants.

“Excited to see you too.” She smiled up at him blearily, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. She jumped back, suddenly startled. “You are so cold!” Her eyes went wide.

“Well it’s freezing outside and I biked here. Plus you have my jackets.” He smiled wryly at her.

“I’m sorry, I will give them back today.” She pulled his hand and led him out to the small wood burning stove in the corner of the cabin. She forced him to sit down in Hoppers chair next to the fire and added a few logs to it. “Get warm, i’ll be right back.” She let go of his hand and made her way to the bathroom.

Mike listened to the sounds of her brushing her teeth, and he took the opportunity to toast his hands and try to get some feeling back in them. A few minutes later she walked out looking refreshed and radiant. Mike was still often shocked by how lovely she had become. She was no longer sickly thin, or pale, and her hair was getting longer every day, and her eyes seemed content whenever he looked in them.

She was still wearing his old red and black flannel, but she had changed into one of Nancy’s handed down dresses. It was light grey with shiny black buttons pinning it together from the bottom to the top. It had a thin red belt at the waist that El had tied in a bow. Her carmel curls were long enough for her to tuck behind her ears with the help of a few white hair clips, and she had washed the drool from her face leaving her skin looking refreshed and glowing. Mike marveled at how… normal she looked. Nancy and Joyce had helped her a lot with getting her clothes she actually liked, and with teaching her how to put together an outfit she felt pretty in. Mike thought she had done a damn good job.

El made her way into the kitchen and pulled out a box of Eggos from the freezer. She popped them in the toaster and clicked the gas oven on. “Are you hungry?” She asked Mike with a smile.

“Uh, yeah actually I am a little bit, but you don’t have to make me anything!” He stood up to join her in the kitchen.

“I want to! Hopper showed me how to cook eggs.” She grinned, turning a shade of pink, feeling strangely embarrassed. She got the carton of eggs from the fridge and cracked two into a cast iron pan. Mike was impressed as she scrambled them without incident. Eggs weren’t very hard, but it was still impressive to see her cook anything besides eggos and microwave dinners.

She plated up the waffles and eggs and Mike poured them both glasses of orange juice. They sat the table eating in silence for awhile before Mike finally spoke.

“So what do you want to do today?” He asked with a bit more enthusiasm then he had intended. He winced at how much a dork he sounded like. El just shrugged, seemingly unphased.

“Well… I brought over some of my D&D stuff, I thought I could finally teach you how to play!” He waited for her to turn down his offer but instead her eyes went wide.

“Yes!” She beamed, finishing off her last eggo.

“Really!? Cause we don’t have to…”

She stood up and grabbed his hand again, pulling him back into the living room. She sat expectantly on the couch, knees pulled up and smile wide. Mike couldn’t believe it. How lucky could he be? To have a beautiful girl who was actually interested in learning about nerdy board games? He fished around in his backpack, pulling out various photocopied manuals and a few hardcover books about medieval history and lore he had gotten for christmas.

They spent the next few hours going over the fantastical Dungeons and Dragons universe. Mike was more excited to share this world with her than he had realized. He went off on several dramatic tangents and reenactments. El hung onto his every word, even the ones she didn’t understand. Mike was a, what was the word max always used? A dork. And a big one. But she loved every moment of it. She liked being able to be a part of something that made him happy, and the game sounded fun, if not a little overwhelming.

Somewhere over the course of his explanation El had scooted closer to him to have a better look at the books. At this point she was leaning against his shoulder, he had one arm wrapped around her and was holding the large binder over their laps, gesturing to it with his free hand. Mike was just starting to explain to El what a mage was, and he went over the character sheet he had made for her in the year she was missing. El felt incredibly special to have been thought of as this though, brave, and heroic spellcaster that Mike had written her to be. She sighed, letting her worries flow out of her with her breath and sinking further into his embrace. She felt so safe when she was close to him, it was a feeling she never wanted to go away.

“So… what do you think?” Mike concluded, turning the last page over and closing the binder.

“It’s amazing.” She breathed. And honestly, it was. El felt her head swim with all of the new information, how anyone could remember all of it was astounding. The picture that Mike had painted seemed amazing, like a fairy tale. It was full of princesses, and fairies, and magic, and monsters too but they were not nearly as scary as the monsters they had faced together in real life.

“I’m glad you think so! I can’t wait for you to get to play with us! The campaign we are working on right now takes place in a desolate snowy tundra, and I think I know the perfect way to work you into the story.” Mike was practically jumping out of his skin.

“Tundra?” El echoed not understanding the word.

“Yeah it’s a really cold place where everything is covered in ice and snow. And there are basically no trees or plants or anything because it too cold for anything to grow.” Mike explained, flipping through his campaign notes and showing her a photocopied image of antarctica. “It’s full of snow monsters and evil ice wizards. The guys got stuck in a blizzard last time we played, but Will found some enchanted snow resistant armor in a cave and saved them. It was awesome.” Mike was excitedly rambling again.

“It sounds… awesome.” El rolled the new word around on her tongue. She had heard the boys use it before but she had never used it herself. It felt fun to say.

“I wish I had that armor now.” Mike said motioning to the window. It was snowing outside again and the sky looked chilly and blue.

El frowned, realizing that it was getting late, and that Mike would have to leave soon. Not only that, but he would have to endure the bitter cold all the way home. She shifted out of his arms and stood up, walking in her room.

She came back a few minutes later with a massive pile of laundry in her arms. It had to be at least a dozen jackets, sweaters, and shirts. She dropped them in a heap on the end of the couch and smiled shyly.

“Sorry I kept all of your clothes.” She blushed, and reached up to pull of his flannel that she was still wearing.

“Hey no, it’s okay!” Mike stood up and pushed the flannel back onto her shoulders. “I like that you take my clothes, it’s kind of cute.” He grinned at her, his eyes full of warm adoration. El felt her own heart twist, he always looked so pretty when he was embarrassed.

“Plus… You look pretty hot in plaid.” Mike added a few moments later. Then, realising what he had just said, his eye shot open wide and he looked down at his feet.

El knew what Mike looked like when he was embarrassed, but she wasn’t quite sure what he had meant by his statement. “Hot?” She questioned. His flannel did keep her warm, but that wasn’t really why she took it, and she wasn’t sure how someone could look warm.

“Uhh… yeah. Hot.” Mike shuffled awkwardly, taking a few paces backwards, his face beet red. “It’s like another word for pretty, but its… different. I shouldn’t have said it.” He cleared his throat in the tension.

Els face fell. She shifted from feeling confused to feeling hurt. Mike called her pretty all the time, and he had taught her that gorgeous, beautiful, and cute were all different words for pretty as well, so why was this word different? And why was it wrong?

“Why not?” She asked, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“Because… because it’s not a very nice way to say pretty. It’s rude.” He played with his fingers, still looking at the ground.

“Not pretty?” El felt her gut stir. She could understand what he was trying to say.

“No! You are so pretty, El! You know that I think you are so beautiful.” He stepped forward and grabbed her by both of her shoulders so he could look into her eyes. “And I think you’re… hot too if i’m being honest. It’s just not a very nice thing to call a girl. Even if it’s true.” The blush returned to his face, he couldn’t lie to her even if it was uncomfortable to admit.

“Why is it not nice?” She felt reassured at flustered grin, but she still didn’t understand.

“Ughh…” He sighed, sitting back on the couch and pulled El down with him. Their knees touched as they faced each other. “It just is. It’s like really REALLY pretty, but in an… aggressive way, I guess.” he couldn’t figure out how else to explain it, and her certainly didn’t want to have to explain its more romantic implications.

El bit her lip. So he thought she was really pretty, but it was also aggressive? It clearly made him nervous, and something about the look in his eyes made her chest tighten. Sometimes she thought Mike was so pretty it made her feel almost unsettled too, maybe even ‘aggressive’.

“Okay. Hot.” She felt herself giggle at saying the word in this context, and she could read the underlying tension in it.

“Yeah…” Mike blushed deeper and bounced his knee the way he so often did when he was nervous.

“Mike?” El asked putting a hand on his leg to steady it. “You are… hot too.” She tried to sound confident but her stomach felt like it was full of bumblebees.

Mike chuckled, obviously startled by what she had said and he grabbed her hand in his own. “Thanks, El. but I can’t believe that you think im hot.”

“I think you are beautiful, Mike.” She said sternly, inching closer to his on the couch. “And smart, and funny, and kind. You make me happy and keep me safe.” She looked deeply into his eyes, her face completely serious.

Mikes heart soared. How had he gotten so lucky? Before El no girl would look twice at him, and the ones that did just called him names. But now he was inches away from an absolutely amazing, badass, gorgeous, and hot, superhero of a girl. And she liked him the same. He leaned forward into her and pulled her into a tender kiss. Every kiss with her felt like magic, and it always left him feeling completely breathless and giddy. He pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers. Their faces were matching in a warm flushed pink.

“You are the best person I have ever met El. I am so lucky that I get to spend time with you, and be your friend and, kiss you.” He whispered to her, looking into her eyes so closely that they were blurry.

“No, Mike. I am the lucky one.” Her face was serious again, but Mike could see the pain buried deep within them, and the adoration pulling at the corner of her lips.

Mike pulled her into a warm hug. He knew that he would have to leave in a few minutes to be home in time for dinner, but for right now he only wanted to think about El. About the smell of her vanilla shampoo, and the sound of her breath as he hugged her tightly.

“El? Why don’t you keep this jacket.” He tugged at the hem of it after breaking the hug. “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Hot?” She asked with a faint smile, cracking a silly pose.

He laughed hard, her sense of humor always caught him by surprise, she was actually really funny when she wanted to be. “Yes hot.”

After a few more minutes of precious alone time, and a couple more small innocent kisses, Mike finally had to pack up his D&D stuff (and all of his jackets) and set out into the cold winter night. He braced himself for the cold, but his stomach felt content and warm. It had been a good day, and the entire bike ride home went by in a blur because his thought were racing as he replayed it over and over again.

‘I love her so much.’

He thought to himself as he pulled into his driveway. It was a thought that surprised even himself, but he knew it was true. He loved her. More than anything else. And one day he was going to tell her that, but for now he was just trying to get over the fact that he had called her hot, and that she had returned the compliment.

[garden-of-succulents]

Jack can be a girl's name

1.5k of pre-canon trans Jack fic for Paulina, who’s a tireless advocate of trans fic in fandom. Brief misgendering; may paint a rosy view of women’s hockey culture in Canada, but let’s have some wish fulfillment.

2008

The campus in summer was warm and drowsy, golden sunlight and rustling trees; the girls on the team saw it through windows from their air-conditioned gym, or the dim cold of the ice rink. They were working harder than they ever had before, but still, there was a summer-vacation air to it. It was exciting. They’d come from all over Canada to play hockey, to potentially qualify for the national team; some of them had never played against girls as good as they were before. Three of their coaches were Olympians, one of them could only come on a limited schedule because she was also working at the Canadiens’ prospect camp; other members of the national team came in sometimes, during lunch or in the dorms in the evening, to hang out and get to know them. It felt like the cup of possibility was held to their lips; it made them bold.

So they had plans for Coach Gill’s other student, who came out to the rink when they were doing conditioning in the gym across the hall. He passed them in the hall when they were coming out of the locker room, swerved to avoid hitting any of them with his hockey bag and kept his eyes averted, and disappeared into the echoing boys’ locker room with their curious stares behind him. They knew Jack Zimmermann was 17, played in the Q, the son of an NHL legend, and already the top draft prospect for 2009; his parents paid for private lessons for him with a three-time Olympian, on top of the hockey school he was going to this summer.

Hopefully he was going to be easier to beat than he was to shock. They shared one table in the underpopulated cafeteria, and he took his tray to sit alone at the nearest unpopulated one. He ate steadily at lunch through their most graphic descriptions of sex and bodily functions, two days running, looked up and said, “That’s nice,” when they asked loudly what he thought about their coach getting married to another woman.

So, on to phase 2. Mackenzie and Amy made a beeline for Zimmermann at his table, where he was eating pasta and overhearing a well-projected discussion from ten feet away.

“–Not if he’s on T, but otherwise, he can play.”

“So they have to put off transition until they retire?”

“There’s already a guy on my team. I mean, not like out-out, so the announcers get it wrong, but we know.”

“So do the girls have to be on like, estrogen? Isn’t there still a physical advantage?”

“The gendered division is so stupid anyway, they should–”

“But passing up an NHL salary would be a big problem, like, you could play a couple years and set yourself up for life. Our side doesn’t get that kind of advantage.”

“Yeah but think what it would be like. Either you’re closeted doing the most macho sport ever, or you’re hoping that an entire team of NHL assholes accepts you as a trans girl? Imagine making a trans girl use a boys’ dressing room. Full of boys.”

“I’d welcome a trans woman in the sport,” the adult du jour, captain of Team Canada, says.

“So.” Mackenzie set her tray down next to him, and Jack Zimmermann dropped his spoon.

“Hi,” Amy said, putting hers down on the other side. Mackenzie was going for intimidating, but Amy had to smile. “Can we sit?”

Zimmermann nodded silently, looking like he had difficulty swallowing. Mackenzie leaned her elbows on the table and leaned forward at them. “You busy in the afternoon?”

He shook his head, still trying to clear his mouth.

“We do 3-on-3 in the afternoon,” Amy said. “Most of us are gonna be the U-18 national team. We were wondering if–”

Zimmermann finally got his mouthful down, and blurted out, “I wanna play with you.”

They thought that phrase meant, I want to play against you.

It didn’t.

*

Conditioning, training camp, wasn’t too hard. She could live with those. It was the first day at the Colisée de Rimouski, the first step into a locker room, that made Jack think I can’t do this with the panic of a swimmer about to drown. Made her look at this room full of boys and think Imagine making a trans girl use a boys’ dressing room and start to hyperventilate

Then someone bumped into her from behind, someone in the room noticed her and shouted, “Zimms,” and she went in mechanically, collected fistbumps, sat at her stall. Opened her bag.

The art to making it look inconspicuous was to take the pill out of the bottle with your hands still in the bag, palm the pill, and slip it under your leg, pressed to the bench. Put the bottle back. Do something else. Then grab your water bottle and take it as a separate motion. Kenny was the only person to even notice, and he shrugged. It could have been a painkiller.

Well. In a way it was. By the time she hit the ice, she was calm. She can do this.

2009

She can’t do this.

*

Jack still hadn’t told her parents what happened with the overdose–they were talking like it was still all a mistake. And before she corrected them she got them to give her her cell phone from her bag of personal effects and asked if she can make a phone call.

She doesn’t know if it’ll work, this number. It’s from cards the captain of the women’s national team handed out to all of them, when they were done playing that day. This is a Sunday, and maybe it’s an office number, nine-to-five hours, maybe it…

“Hello?”

Jack closed her eyes and said, “Hi. Um, this is Jack Zimmermann.”

There was a moment of silence, surprise, where Jack’s stomach turned into ice, but maybe it was because they hadn’t talked in a year, because–“Oh my god, kid, are you okay? I saw–”

“I was wondering,” she said, squeezing the words out against that icy pain, “if you still… if you meant it, about letting trans women play.”

Another horrible silence, and then: “Yes. Absolutely. I don’t know what I–yes. Whatever I can do, I’ll do it.”

Jack gasped out in relief, and noticed she’d been crying for the last–forever–and–

“We can do this,” her captain said. “We’ll figure it out.”

2011

“Look up,” Alicia said, “and stick your tongue out.”

“Thith is dumb,” Jack said, trying not to move as Alicia took a firm grip on her face and sketched the eyeliner in with expert hands.

“The tongue stabilizes your eyelids,” Alicia said as she worked. “That’s why it keeps going on crooked for you.”

Jack worked her jaw when she was free, then obediently held her mouth open for lipstick. Her face felt weird and sticky. It was a little better after she closed her mouth and eyes and Alicia blew on finishing powder, but the makeup still felt… heavy.

“Making a good first impression,” Alicia encouraged, setting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You look great.”

Jack was a little more dubious, about everything from her makeup to her bob to her dress, but breathed out and tried to feel ready anyway.

“You’re… still sure about your name?” Alicia asks, for one last time.

“Jack can be a girl’s name,” she repeats mechanically. Alicia lets it go.

The Samwell Women’s Hockey welcome barbecue is held in the summer sunset of the quad outside Founders, people piling their plates with hamburgers and potato chips; some of them, like Jack, are in summer dresses, others in athletic gear, one other freshman with a mother at her shoulder the way Alicia is at Jack’s in a sports blazer and dress pants.

“Knight,” the other frog mutters, pumping Jack’s hand. “Call me Knight.”

“Oh,” Alicia asks brightly behind them. “Any relation to–?” and Knight tows Jack away to a food table before their mothers can make them stay and talk about geneaology.

Jack turns down the mickey Knight pulls out of an interior blazer pocket and feels a little uneasy, but Knight’s constant stream of chatter (“–wanted me to go to Harvard, but I’m glad as fuck I didn’t apply, so much better here. Where are you housed? Yeah, I’m in Lyons too, third floor”) is a safe refuge to come back to when she’s made forays into greeting the rest of the team. Some of them are polite, others welcoming, some of them she’s already talked to on the phone, but none of them seem as desperately glad to have Jack to talk to. Knight even keeps up a running sotto voce stream of commentary during the coaches’ welcoming speech.

And then the moment it ends she says, “Thank god that’s over,” and strips off her blazer, handing it carefully to Jack. Jack takes it, surprised, and hesitantly trails the teammate who’s ambling somewhat drunkenly away from the lights of the quad. A few other teammates come with them, and then one girl who Knight seemed to know a little bit hurtles past them, whooping and screaming, and tosses her dress off and plunges into the Pond in panties and bra.

Jack keeps picking up clothes, feeling a little rude but not certain that they have good plans for them otherwise, and sees when Knight strips down to boxer-briefs and a binder before diving into the water.

Oh, she thinks, like it’s lighting her up from inside. Oh, you too.

“Get rid of those,” Knight shouts at her, surfacing and splashing outrageously. “Get in here!”

“It’s tradition!” somebody else yells, and other girls around them are jumping in too. Jack looks back at the adults, where one coach is smiling and another covering her eyes with resigned laughter. Her mom is patting Mrs. Knight’s back reassuringly.

She catches Jack’s eye, makes a shooing motion.

“Hey,” Knight says five minutes later, when Jack has dunked three people and been dunked twice. “Your mascara is running.”

“Thank God,” Jack says, scrubbing at her eyes. “I hate that stuff.” She looks up. “How is it?”

Knight sputters helplessly with laughter, and Jack has to laugh too. “Like you’ve got a double shiner,” Knight gasps, holding his stomach. “C'mere, let’s go dry off and I’ll help you get it off for real.”

[denimwrites-archive]

Cookies, Comfort, & Cuddles

Prompt: Basically me projecting on Evan and wishing someone would come pamper me cause dysphoria’s a bitch.

Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen

Pairing: Transman!Evan Hansen X Reader

Summary: Evan was having a really bad day, so you decided to go all out and help him realize that you loved him, the glorious man that is Evan Hansen.

Word Count: 2,179

Warnings: Lil angst?, dysphoria, tooth rotting fluff

A/N: More headcanons that I submitted to the Supreme Mother Sea Creatures. 

***I, the author, identify as nonbinary, and am transmasculine. Please note: I do not speak for all trans people and everyone’s trans experience is different and unique to them, this is my feelings of how I would want to be treated after a bad day. This is my projecting, and I don’t claim it to be anything else.

~~~

It had been a day for Evan. You knew from the way he plopped into the seat next to you at lunch, eyes tired after only a few classes. Giving him a comforting smile, you grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. He tried to reciprocate the smile, but you could tell that he wasn’t feeling the best. You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “You’re my handsome boy, don’t forget that, okay?” At your words a small smile did grace his face, and he gave you a kiss on your cheek in return. 

You tried to keep him involved in the conversation with your friends, but it was obvious that his mind was elsewhere. You knew that Evan’s dysphoria was probably getting to him, so you came up with a quick plan to maybe make the day a little easier. After you walked with Evan to your next class at the end of lunch, you started making a list of everything you needed. 

You used your free period to go to the grocery store and buy the ingredients necessary, dropping them at home before returning to school, albeit a little late. When you passed by Evan in the hall on the way to your final class, you passed him a note: “Meet me at my car after school, I have a surprise for my favorite guy :) xxx <3” He gave you a puzzled look over his shoulder as you were swept away in the sea of students, but was excited for your surprise nonetheless. 

Sitting through the last class of the day took forever, but it did end eventually. You made sure to get to your car first and waited for Evan to appear. He got in the car with a questioning look, but you just gave him a smile and pulled out of your parking spot. You grabbed his hand while you waited in the student traffic, and gave it a kiss, which caused a blush to form across his face. Turning on the radio while you waited, you and Evan jammed out, and soon were on your way home. 

When you finally made it to your driveway, you gave him a wink and got out of the car. Trailing behind you, he was unsure of what you were going to do.Grabbing his hand, you led him to the kitchen and gestured to the ingredients on the counter. He blinked at you, and you explained, “I thought we could bake some of our troubles away, then cuddle and watch a movie or something, just get your mind off of stuff.” 

Evan couldn’t look at you with any less love if he tried, pulling you to him he hugged you as tightly as he could. “Thank you,” he mumbled into you, and you rubbed his back soothingly. When he pulled away, he had a smile on his face. “One rule though,” at those words he braced for the worst. “You have to give your binder a break after wearing it all day.” You could see Evan deflate slightly, but you took ahold of his hand again. 

“You’ll always be my amazing boyfriend, binder or no binder. I just want to make sure that you’re safe and that you aren’t damaging your ribs. I have plenty of big shirts if you want to wear one of those instead.” He looked at the ground as you talked, and looked up at you when you squeezed his hand. Evan let out a soft but defeated, “Okay,” and followed you to your room.  Grabbing some baggy clothes, you left him alone as he changed. 

Heading back to the kitchen and getting the pans ready for baking. He returned a few minutes later, binder in hand. You pulled him in for another hug and kissed him on the forehead. “There’s my handsome boy.” That brought a smile to his face. Wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning against your back, he watched as you pulled out the recipe and started organizing the ingredients. “Are you just going to watch, or are you actually going to help?” you teased. 

He just let out a hum as he watched, giving you a squeeze. When you went to move and grab the cold ingredients from the fridge, Evan held you still, not letting you move. Letting out a huff of laughter, you turned to Evan ready to tease him again, but he just leaned in and gave you a kiss before pulling away and grabbing the stuff needed from the fridge himself. He gave you a smile as he placed them on the counter, and you gave him another kiss before handing him an apron. 

Putting it on, you following suit, you finally got started. There was a lot of tasting the batter, but soon enough you were done, and putting the cookies in the oven. Letting out a sigh and setting a timer, you took your dirty bowls to the sink, ready to get started on cleaning, but it was not to be. Evan once again wrapped his hands around your waist and teased in your ear, “I thought somebody promised some cuddling and movies?” Releasing a small laugh, you turned around in his arms. 

“I’m not sure I remember that, care to jog my memory?” you asked with a good natured smile. He leaned in and kissed you on the lips, and you couldn’t help but get lost in the feeling. When he finally pulled away, you instinctively followed, opening your eyes when you heard him chuckle. “I think that’s enough of a reminder.” Giving him a smile, you glanced at the timer to see that you had enough time to get slightly settled in. 

Heading to the couch, Evan stretches out before pulling you next to him. Grabbing a blanket and pulling it over the both of you, you decide on a Disney movie and snuggle as it starts. Soon your relaxation is interrupted by the timer going off, and you get up to pull the cookies out of the oven. You motion for Evan to stay on the couch, but he pauses the movie for you. Setting the cookies on a rack to cool, you return to the couch and rest your head on his shoulder as the movie resumes.

You get swept up by the movie’s music, and are soothed by the smell of the cookies, happy in Evan’s arms. Evan is also happy with you in his arms, content to be himself, here in the moment with you. He kisses your head, and you grab his hand. He squeezes it and rests his head atop yours, letting out a comfortable sigh. When the movie ends, you start to pull away, wanting to grab some cookies before you start the next film, but Evan holds you tighter with a small whine. 

“But cookies…” you whine back at him, and after a puppy dog look from you, he lets you get up. You kiss him before you get up, and hurriedly grab a plateful of sugary goodness, wanting to return to your previous position as soon as possible. When you return to the couch Evan already has the next movie ready to go, and you settle in once again. Letting out a small moan from the delicious cookie, you laugh at Evan and take a bite yourself, mimicking him when you get a taste. 

He chuckles at you in return. Snacking on the cookies and watching the other movie, you soon find yourself watching another and another movie, cuddling more into your boyfriend as time goes on. Sometimes you’ll turn and give him a kiss at a random moment, and he’ll return the gesture a few minutes later. When you finally look at the clock you see that it’s pretty late. Turning to Evan you can’t bring yourself to tell him that you’ll bring him home. 

Since it’s already late, you turn off the tv, much to Evan’s protests, but you pull him up and towards your room. He lets out a yawn as you make your way through the doorway and you smile at him. Pulling back the covers you climb into bed. Evan hesitates, standing at the edge of your bed, hand still in yours. However, when you give him another puppy dog look, this time with tired eyes, he gives in immediately. Settling in next to you in your bed, he wraps an arm around you. 

You lean on him and start mumbling how much you love him. “You’re such a good boyfriend, Evan. I wish I could do more to help when dysphoria gets you down, but I promise I’ll always be here for you.” He doesn’t respond, but pulls you closer still, burying his head in your hair. You hug him back as best as you can, before turning your face towards his and giving him a kiss. His lips linger on yours as you pull away and return to your snuggling position. 

As you start to drift off to the sound of Evan’s breathing, you hear him reply. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You feel a pressure on your head as he gives you a gentle kiss, and then you’re lost to sleep. When you wake up the next morning, you’re still in Evan’s arms and can’t help but admire his calm, sleepy face. He soon starts to stir, and you smirk as his bleary eyes meet yours. “Good morning, handsome,” you say giving him a brief kiss. 

He kisses back before pulling back and letting out a yawn. “Morning,” he mumbles, getting cozy and shutting his eyes once again. You give him a little poke, and he just grumbles, not bothering to open his eyes. As much as you would love to stay in bed, your stomach won’t allow it. Attempting to get out of Evan’s arms, however, is also a difficult task. Trying to wiggle out of his hold only tightens his grip on you. He grumbles again, and you say, “bathroom.” He reluctantly lets you go.

You do actually use the bathroom, but head to the kitchen and make some breakfast before returning to your room. Plate in hand of toast and some other things, you sit on the edge of your bed and nudge Evan. He lets out a whine and turns away from you. “Eeeevvaaan,” you call. He lets out a grumble and you can’t help the chuckle that escapes. ‘He is /so/ not a morning person’ you think. Setting the plate on your nightstand you resort to drastic measures. 

Leaning over him, you stick your hands to his sides, lightly moving them. Evan reacts immediately, squirming away from your touch. You follow him though, and soon his laughter fills the room. When you know that he’s plenty awake, you stop. He turns towards you, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “Not fair,” he says, but he’s smiling, and that’s all that matters. You give him a kiss as he sits up, and you hand him the plate and some napkins. 

He accepts it gratefully and starts eating. You grab some stuff off of his plate, needing some breakfast yourself, and you eat in relative silence. When you’re both done, you return to your previous positions, cuddled up next to each other. You’re both still awake, just enjoying the feeling of being together. “Thank you,” he says, kissing your head, “You really helped me yesterday.” “It’s no problem, Ev. You know I’d do anything for you.” “Yeah, and I’m so grateful every day.” 

You smile and snuggle into him more. “I’m grateful for you too, y’know?” “I don’t know why.” At that you sit up and look at him. Grabbing his chin so he looks at you, you say with the utmost conviction you can muster, “Because I love you. Evan Hansen, the best boyfriend in the world. The sweet guy who tries his best no matter how much the world throws at him. The strongest man I know, and the one who I will support until the end of time.” You look at each other for a long moment. 

Then he’s pulling you into a passionate kiss. You can feel his love and affection in every movement, his hand gently trails up your arm and hooks around your neck to pull you in even deeper. All you can do is taste him, and you almost become overwhelmed with all of the emotion he’s showing you until you pull away to catch your breath. Resting your forehead against his, Evan still holding you close. “I love you so much,” he whispers to you. “And I love you, my handsome boy.” 

With that, you two snuggle together again and find yourself talking about anything and everything. Compliments are constantly being told to each other, with plenty of sweet kisses on hands and other body parts. It was a good day to be with your amazing boyfriend, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. The best news is that neither would Evan.

Tag List: @helplesshansen​   @arsonboirich​

[ineedastudysavior-blog]

First of all, I would like to congratulate you for making it here. It’s your senior year of high school, and you haven’t gone completely insane. Good start.

I’m making this post as a rising university freshman, recently graduated high school senior in the United States. I know I personally panicked and looked through Tumblr for hours trying to soothe my worries, and if I can help even one scared person out there, then my job is complete. 

APPLYING TO UNIVERSITY

Yeah, this is a big one.

First, breathe. I promise everything will be okay.

Apply to as many colleges as you see fit. The number is different for everyone. I applied to 3, my friend applied to 13. Don’t panic if your friends are applying for more than 10 and you’re applying to less than five, and try to not judge them if it’s reversed.

Pay attention to the deadlines. I know it’s obvious, but they can really slip by you. Don’t forget to check if the financial aid deadline is different from the application deadline.

Don’t hate yourself if you don’t get accepted into your top choice. I know I was in this position last year, so I’m going to say it for you if no one else will. If you applied to an Ivy League or the western equivalent, there is a small chance you will get in, but a larger chance you will not. Statistics are against you. Have a Plan B and a Plan C. Dream big, and don’t let anything stop you from pursuing your dream, but don’t let it completely crush you if you don’t manage to be the 4-6% of students across the world making it into one specific university.

Remember that most universities and colleges require financial aid to be done and turned in alongside the standard application!

SCHOLARSHIPS

Oh dear.

If you haven’t started doing scholarships yet, don’t panic.There are plenty of opportunities for scholarships still. There are some with deadlines in May/June!

Even if it’s only $100-$200, apply for it if you think you can. That can buy a book or two or chip away at a meal plan. Everything counts.

With that, don’t overload yourself. Don’t give yourself 9 essays to write in one night unless you can do your best work under that much pressure and stress.

If you have a military parent/guardian, USE IT. I cannot tell you how many scholarships I found for military dependents. This applies to retired military parents/guardians as well. Even if you’re not planning on doing anything remotely to do with the military, they want to help you.

FAFSA. If you can get money from them, great. If not, let me send my condolences, I know that sucks. Keep looking.

ORGANIZATION

Here we go.

You don’t have to be perfect. Seriously. You don’t have to be trendy and tumblr and cute constantly. Sure, it’s nice for the pictures, but if it’s too much time and effort to keep it up and only stresses you out, drop it. I promise it’ll be okay.

Write stuff down wherever you’ll see it. Be it a sticky note on your mirror or in your planner, if you see it, you’ll remember it.

I know I might get some serious backlash for this, but you don’t need a planner. If that’s not how you work, don’t feel like you need to shell out money for one or spend time making one. Do what works for you.

Folders, binders, accordion folders, use whatever you have that’s in good working condition, or if you have the money, treat yourself (or have your parents treat you) to a new way to file things. Use what works for you. I cannot stress that enough!

There is such a thing as over color-coordinating. As pretty as it may be by the end, your brain likely can’t handle that overload. Stick to one or two different colors and it’ll be a lot easier to decipher.

ACTUAL CLASSES

Yikes...

IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU ARE GOING TO SUFFER IN A COURSE AFTER A MONTH, SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE AND GO DOWN A LEVEL. Trust me, I know it sucks, I really really do, but I took a Calculus course too quick for me, and I suffered so much, as well as lost valedictorian. There’s a difference between challenging yourself and putting yourself through unnecessary stress. It’ll be okay.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Again, it’s time to swallow your pride and get whatever you need to succeed.

Your teachers may be exhausted, but most of them are most than happy to help you if you need it, or if you’re confused on the specifics of an assignment. Use office hours or e-mail them. They’re human too!

Always, ALWAYS study for your tests. Whether it’s AP, IB, Honors, or on-level courses, you can always solidify information more. There’s nothing worse than neglecting to study, being confident as you go into the exam, and then experiencing that heart-stopping, stomach-dropping moment when you have no f*cking clue what the questions are asking.

Not everything is about AP/IB. Sure they’re useful, but never NEVER feel like you’re less of a person or less deserving because you take on-level courses.

SOCIAL

Oh jeez...

In case you haven’t thought about it before, some of your friends are moving away. Spend as much time with them as you can before you leave or they leave. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

With that said, if you have toxic friends, DITCH THEM. You are the number 1 priority in your own life. If you don’t feel happy around your friends, then they’re not good friends. It’s not too late to find great people, I promise. I did it in my second semester of senior year, and they’re some of my favorite people that I’ve ever known to exist. Find friends for life, not friends for now.

It is 100,000% normal and fine to not have had your first kiss, first significant other, or first relationship by this point. I promise you. Don’t let stories of people and their 5 boyfriends/girlfriends make you feel insecure. Don’t feel pressured into doing something you’re not ready for. (Also it makes going off to college a lot less stressful if you don’t feel like you’re supposed to tag along with your s/o or have an obligation to see them.)

Surprise! Not everyone is actually having sex! Even some people that say they are aren’t!

Please, learn to love yourself. You were placed on this earth just how you are. Don’t ever feel like you’re worthless, wrong, disgusting, or unloved. You are worth so much, I promise.

Don’t trash talk your younger counterparts. I know they’re annoying, walking into the school and being loud and acting like they own everything, but they’ll learn. Be patient, and try to not talk bad about them. You’ll be a freshman again next year, and you wouldn’t want seniors to be talking about you like that.

Join a club! It isn’t too late!

RANDOM

Etcetera.

So here’s the thing. College and university costs way more than it should. Save money. I know it’s hard and it sucks and it’s annoying as hell, but you’ll thank yourself later. 

Consider getting a journal to document things you do during the year. Paste in movie stubs, concert tickets, pictures, and write a little bit about the experience! Remember to please breathe. You’ll get through it, I swear.

If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed or as if you can’t do it, please seek out someone to talk to. It’s scary and stressful, but it’ll most likely help.

Do things for you. Take a bath. Take a weekend off. Call your best friend. Read a book for fun! Do something that will relax you and make you feel better about your situation.

I promise you can do it. I believe in you, and I hope you believe in yourself.

If I missed anything or you want anything added on or answered, please let me know, and feel free to add on with your own experiences!

xx, Shelby

[dalishpariah]

tips for new uni / college students

i’m just finishing up my first year this summer and i know lots of people are graduating and going into post secondary this semester, so here are my tips on your first year! (im in canada but these should probably be relevant for other countries? i think!) feel free to add your own! (spaces are for accessibility – sorry for the long ass post) 

you don’t need to ask to go to the bathroom, or to leave at all. if you’re anxious, or if you need a coffee, just quietly leave without disturbing the other students and come back when you’re ready. try not to leave in an important part of the lecture—you should preferably be doing everything you need to before/after class to avoid leaving and missing information, but this isn’t high school anymore and you can come and go as you wish. (note: if youre working in a lab make sure you follow your prof’s safety procedures around leaving to avoid bringing contaminants out of the lab with you, and do NOT leave in the middle of a test unless given explicit permission by the prof.)

i bought a binder for my first year and never used it. i took all my notes in a coil notebook, which is easier to keep track of, and put all handouts in the inside pocket/in a folder which was more than sufficient, since at my school most of the handouts are online anyways. if you’re more comfortable using a binder, definitely use one, but you’re probably better off using a notebook. 

you can bring your laptop/tablet to class to write your notes in 99% of classes. if you find typing easier than writing on paper with pen/pencil, then bring it with you - just make sure you have your charger/your laptop is charged, especially if it’s a long class. but try not to get distracted — you’re probably better off sticking to a notebook if you know you’re going to open facebook/tumblr instead of actually taking notes.

most professors i’ve taken still don’t appreciate texting in class. some of them don’t care, some will call you out on it. they understand if you have to quickly reply to your mom or something (or take a phone call outside of class) but if every time they look up you’re blatantly staring at your phone (or your crotch lol we all know the trying to hide ur phone under ur desk phone) they’ll probably be less inclined to help you later when you ask questions because you were too busy not paying attention 

write your name, phone number and school e-mail in the front of your notebook / on a label on your laptop. losing an entire semester’s worth of notes would be a NIGHTMARE and you want to make it as easy as possible for anyone who finds your stuff to return it to you. 

before you buy your textbook from your bookstore, check facebook to see if your school has a book exchange page and try to find someone you can buy it from second hand. it will be cheaper. 

if you can, buy your books used from the bookstore. renting is cheaper than buying — the buy back price at the end of the semester will be drastically reduced from what your purchased it at.

get familiar with the services at your school. check out the pride center and women’s center if you have one, join a club, and find a community. you’ll have a lot more fun at university if you find your niche and people who share your interests. they don’t have to be your lifetime best friends, but it’s nice to have a place to go and chat with an acquaintance during long breaks between classes.

use google docs or a similar cloud-based service. not having to haul your essays around on a USB is so much more convenient, and with your work stored in the cloud you won’t have any risk of it not saving or being corrupted. 

plagiarism is such a big no. your profs will remind you, but if you think you can get away with it, you CANNOT. plagiarism gives you what is essentially an academic criminal record and NO ONE in your faculty wants to deal with it, so just do your work okay?? trust me the consequences are way worse than just sitting down and writing the paper, no matter how awful it is

on the first day, if you HATE a class or the prof, drop it. add/drop deadlines are serious business 

if you have a few different choices for which prof to pick, check ratemyprofessor before choosing (but remember to take things with a grain of salt – they are reviews written by real people)

post-secondary is an amazing opportunity and as much as student loans and the emotional stress are hard, it can also be an incredible and fascinating experience. don’t worry too much about “finding your purpose” and take advantage of the wealth of knowledge your professors and teachers will present to you. good luck to all of you and i hope you have a wonderful time!!