#same thing with like my school would have a hot lunch program

[aggressionbread]

these things were like the joy of ordering stuff online before ordering stuff online was really a thing

[slutshamethesquirrels]

Behind The Cover - Chapter 2

Previous

Your POV

“So, just to clarify, you found some shitty, shady, crusty, dusty ass little hole in the wall bookstore?” Maki’s leaning across the small circular table, peering at you through half-rimmed glasses like you’d lost your damn mind.

You nod.

“It has a 3 star rating and looks abandoned? Has the world’s weirdest business hours.”

“Yes.”

A deep breath, followed by narrowed chocolate eyes “And you went?! Then when it looked abandoned and sketchy you just continued to walk right on in-”

“It wasn’t sketchy on the inside!” You defend, crossing your arms across your chest and pouting pointedly. Maki ignores you.

“-only to be greeted by some fucking anti-social loser who was a dick to you, and all you can talk about is how bad you wanted to fuck him?!”.

Your eyes meet Nobara’s on the other side of the table, and you both have to quickly avert your gazes, trying to stifle the giggles swelling in your throats. The three of you had been friends since your senior year of highschool, following a forced group assignment. You all belonged to different crowds back then. Maki graduated top of her class, and was still currently working her way through a doctorate program with a focus in business. If there was an award to be won, best believe she would be sure to achieve it if it wasn’t already tucked under her belt. Nobara had been your classic band kid, with her bob cut and obnoxious need for male validation. She always did well, but never quite out performed the others in her grades or extracurriculars. After high school, she went on to be a human resource officer for a major tech company. And you? You hadn’t really been popular throughout most of high school. You had an honorary seat at the “loser” lunch table amongst the socially inept and non-conventionally attractive. Post-graduation, you’d had a glow up that would have the same boys that tormented you flooding your instagram directs. The more followers you gained, the more opportunities started to pop up in the world of content creation, and you found an odd niche with your generally barbie-esque aesthetic and insatiable fascination with herpetology and entomology.

These days, Nobara serves as the mediator of the group, a solid middle ground between Maki’s objectively blunt demeanor and your easy going (at times, careless-) nature, but she wasn’t being much help in the present moment.

“In my defense, he was insanely hot!” your voice is broken up by chuckles, causing Maki to roll her eyes so hard you thought they may simply roll right out of her head and onto the table before you.

“You know what, this is your problem, you have a thing for ‘bad boys’. Problem with that is, real life bad boys aren’t fun and sexy! They’re misogynistic bitches-”

“I do not! Nobie, help me out here-” you send her a pleading look, but she’s all apologetic honey brown gaze and pursed lips.

“I’m kinda with Maki on this one, dude. Didn’t your last boyfriend get mad at you for making him wear a condom?”

You blink, and try not to smile. Yes .

“And the one before that wanted you to delete your socials and be fully dependent on him financially-” Maki adds.

“Yeah, and that one guy who tried to mansplain how to take care of your animals all the time, even though that's literally half of your career-” Nobara is quick to follow up.

They continue to list off failed situationships, relationships, and flings, with you trying hard to defend yourself against the on-slaught, but not getting a word in edgewise. From the outside, it would’ve been quite a sight to see. The three of you bantered with ease, but on looks alone one would never guess you all ran together. You, with your pink floral backless romper only covering the most important parts of your body, your hair curled and blown out to supermodel levels of perfection, and your white heels tapping restlessly against the tile of the cafe. Nobara, and her business casual slacks and cream colored button up, with minimal makeup and a sleekness to her hair that meant business. Maki and her edgy street wear that she only donned on her days off of school, the unnatural green of her hair that she swore she’d keep until she had to enter the workforce. It was the small bit of delinquency she allowed herself to enjoy.

“Okay okay okay!” You hold your hands out in front of you, commanding their silence “Just hear me out-!”.

A chorus of groans from both of them as Maki throws her head back in disappointment and Nobara brings her hand in front of her face, as if hiding from your next words.

A few moments of silence before you state, doing your best not to give away your cheekiness about the entire situation:

“I could fix him.”

The both of them explode with fervent disagreement as you laugh. Of course, all of you knew on some level that you were kidding, but they weren't even taking the risk of being perceived as supporting your shenanigans.

“Why don't you just go out with that Yu guy from the bar the other night? He seemed so sweet!”

You gag at Nobara’s suggestion. He had seemed sweet, but that wasn't exactly what you were attracted to. He had approached, his number and name already written down on a stray napkin, and barely made eye contact with you as he’d sputtered out something about you being pretty and going out sometime before shakily passing it to you and practically running away.

“He’s not my type.” You summarize.

“Okay, fine then. What is your type?” Maki asks, a sarcastic edge to her tone.

“Uhm,” you feign pondering for a moment, looking off to the side like you don't already know exactly what you're about to say “Probably… tall, dark features, kinda beefy… long dark hair, flawless skin, acts kinda like he hates the world but is totally fixable-”.

“Are you talking about the bookstore guy again?!”

Eventually, you wrap up your weekly brunch with the girls and make your way home on nothing more than a prayer and a general lack of concern for the countless warning lights that flicker on your dashboard. You jokingly told all your friends they were for decoration every time they rode anywhere with you, and that you could fix that weird grinding noise with a simple upward turn of the radio dial. See no evil, hear no evil, or whatever they say.

Suguru's POV

Certainly, most certainly, Suguru had lost his mind, and he feared he may simply never find it again. What started as something so simple had turned into an obsession the likes of which he’d never felt before.

A simple call to the DMV claiming to be a tow company had granted him access to your name and contact information upon providing your license plate information, which he’d intended to use to send you a faulty link hooked to an IP logger to grant himself access to your location. It was simple, effective. If you didn't fall for it, he’d pursue other options, but he was relatively sure you wouldn't be even a single step ahead of him. You didn't seem like the type to keep a watchful eye over your shoulder, if anything you seemed to relish in attention, giving Suguru a sure fire way to stay hidden amongst the crowd of others pining for your recognition.

The only thing about this type of phishing was that he had to know a little bit about you in order to conjure something that would lure your attention; a text or E-Mail that would be believable enough for you to click. What type of work did you do? What shopping centers did you frequent? Did you typically order food to go? All of these were quite possibly the key to pinpointing you.

He’d started with the phone number provided to him by one of the very government agencies entrusted with the safety of it’s citizens. Most didn't have the forethought to disable the “find by phone number” feature available on most social media platforms. However, when he’d found an instagram account, he’d immediately realized this was going to be harder than he thought. He was right though, you loved attention.

Two hundred and forty thousand fucking followers. Two hundred and forty thousand eyes on you at maximum, and at minimum, probably a third to a half of that number would notice. A fifth or so of that smaller number would probably genuinely care enough to cause a commotion, if nothing other than for the clout. If his quick math was correct, he was staring down the maw of somewhere between twenty and thirty thousand watchful eyes.

A quick glance from your follower count to the time in the top left corner of his screen let him know that he was still in bed far past ten; damn near unheard of for someone with such a strict routine. And yet, he couldn't stop. How many hours had he laid here like this? Shirtless, midnight tendrils tangled and unkempt, weary body begging for a shut down but all he could do was scroll and learn and scroll and learn-

With each passing post, he could swear he could still smell you in the storefront, could conjure up the sound of your breathing on a whim. One fifteen minute walk through his path and you’d managed to turn everything on its head. He had to have you, to satisfy the craving before he lost himself entirely. Shit, he’d almost fought Satoru over the right to you. That night when you’d stopped by the store, he thought that maybe this instinctual pull towards your scent was something that he only would experience, but when Satoru had returned from his hunt he’d immediately been able to smell you there still. Hours after you’d driven away, even with complete satiation.

To complicate things further, the only thing pushing him to take your life was just that. You were unlike anyone he’d murdered in almost the past century. You had no criminal record, no violent past, nothing; it drove him mad. Your biggest crime was wearing revealing clothing and dropping one too many swear words per capita. You had a stark interest in reptiles and insects, nearly all your pictures being of yourself posed with some exotic species of reptile or insect, captioned with facts about said animal, littered with emojis. One of these captions burns its way into Suguru’s brain:

this big lady here is daisy!! she's a burmese python! fun fact: snakes don't have the intellectual capacity to feel emotions like love, or really any emotion at all!! funny how such a creature can make me feel so much love for her!

Stupid, stupid girl. That thing could easily swallow you whole, you have to know that-

It's time stamped from two months ago under a post of you in a lavender bodycon mini dress and a pair of white gogo boots. You're striking a pose, legs crossed as an ungodly large snake grips around your hips and one of your thighs. It winds around your body all the way up to your face, where it rests against your cheek. You look like you're maybe laughing, flashing a toothy grin through painted lips and squinting liner caked eyes, lacking any fear of the creature that could easily consume you. You’ve tagged a zoo that upon further investigation seems to be three or so hours away, and left an additional comment with a link for donations. The connected organization seems to be some sort of rescue, its primary purpose being intake of reptiles and amphibians that ignorant assholes purchased not realizing they’d never be able to properly care for such a creature.

All of your posts are like that. You, dazzling the camera while showing off one of god’s many abominations. The other abominations seemed to trickle into your comment section. Men talking about the vile things they’d like to do to you, hinting at their formicophilia, saying the most desperate of embarrassing cringe in an effort to get your attention. Something burns in Suguru when he stumbles across them, something ancient and angry, but he can't quite place it. He had the urge to shift his hunt to those individual commenters, but the effort it would take wasn't worth the trouble just to clear out a few internet freaks. Plus, the overwhelming majority of your following seemed to actually be women who identified with the “alternative” label. Besides all that, the thoughts that operate the forefront of his mind are more important, more taxing.

Why didn't you shy away from things that could hurt you? Things that could kill you?

And more importantly, why did he care if his very goal was to do just that?

“Getou!!!”

He recognizes Itadori’s voice immediately. A frenzied knock on his bedroom door has him quickly tucking away his phone, finally rolling out of bed for the first time that night to open it, squinting against the artificial lighting of the rest of the home as he did so.

“Im so sorry, I need help. Now!”

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he sized up the smaller man and immediately decided that something was wrong. His eyes were wide, a reddish golden halo around dilated pupils. He looked like he’d stuck a fork in an outlet; his entire being was tense and ragged. When Suguru doesn't immediately jump to action, he continues:

“There's this person up there and she smells- fuck she smells like, like- I’m gonna kill her. If I have to go back up there I-I’m -”

Next

[whatislovevavy]

8. What Am I Supposed to Do Now?

Jake Seresin x OC (Caledonia Hughes)

WC: 2.8k

Masterlist  Previous Part   Next Part

Warnings: swearing, mentions of smut (18+),  mostly angst

AN: This one’s angsty y’all, not gonna lie. And a bit shorter than the others, but fear not, the next one will be longer :) Thank you @sebsxphia for the encouragement to write this story when it was in development, it means the world <3 Also a big thank you to @royallyprincesslilly for the design of the divider.

Please consider leaving a comment, a tip, or reblogging, leaving likes doesn't do anything on this hellsite. It helps with motivation when writing and the tips help since I’m between jobs at the moment :)

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

These characters, except for Caledonia and Ella, are obviously not my own. This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

Jake pensively hit the backspace button on his phone's touch pad. 

He knew at the back of his mind that he should be telling you this in person.

The swing of the break room door broke him from his stare at his screen.

"Anyways, we're going on a date next Saturday to the aquarium in the city," Bradley said with a small lopsided smirk as he walked in with Natasha and Javy. 

"What's this I hear about Rooster finally getting a woman to go out with him?" 

Rooster flipped Jake off as he got his lunch from the fridge, making Natasha let out a small laugh, and Javy quirk his lip. 

"So what's her name, how'd you meet her?"

Bradley closed the fridge with a click, striding towards the table Jake was settled at. 

"Her name's Ella, she's a grad student at UC San Diego. Met her at that coffee place you recommended last week, got her number, and have been texting since." 

He flashed Jake a grin. 

Jake furrowed his brows, a soft hum leaving his lips. 

It couldn't have been your Ella, could it? UC San Diego was a big school, there was definitely more than one Ella there.

Soon Javy and Phoenix joined them at the table. 

"What?"

Rooster broke him from his deep in thought glance as he softly stirred the left over beef stew.

But at this point, he couldn’t stomach the previously delicious stew you made for him. It only served as a reminder of what he was about to do, and for what he didn’t have the courage to do. 

"Nothing, Caledonia has a friend in her grad program named Ella." 

Bradley’s lip quirked.

“Cali is biochem, right?”

Jake nodded. 

A soft hum left Bradley’s lips, “Yeah, that might be the same one. So, noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately, what's the deal?”

Jake felt his heart freeze.

He shrugged, nonchalantly, trying to exude that same Hangman confidence and bravado.

“Nothing too serious, just helped out with a few things Penny asked me to do for her.”

Natasha almost bent her fork in her hand as his words registered. 

Did he not know how much he meant to her?

Jake could feel her piercing stare, but chose to keep his attention on Bradshaw. 

Javy’s gaze was more marked with the subtle signs of pity as he worked his way through his wrap. 

Jake couldn’t decide which one felt worse. 

Rooster took a bite of his lunch, “ya know, I’ve been meaning to ask, why do you call her by her full name?”

Was it getting hot in here? He wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was yes, considering the time of year. 

If Javy hadn’t known him all these years, he would have missed the flash of panic behind the thick curtain of confidence that was slowly becoming a thin veil. 

He shrugged, “I was always taught to treat women that give me booze with the utmost respect, hence the full name.”

Bradshaw nodded, letting his eyebrows raise, “But what about Penny? You call her Pen all the time.”

Natasha smirked slightly around her forkful of lunch. 

Jake swallowed, “Well, that’s different… I’ve known Penny for a lot longer than Caledonia.”

Rooster leaned back, furrowing his brow, and biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Ok, but why did you leave the Hard Deck with her last week?”

Jake took a deep breath, “She needed help with her car before she headed home. I was at the bartop paying my tab and Penny asked me to help her. What is this anyway? An interrogation? You gonna ask me about every woman I’ve talked to?”

Bradshaw smirked, “Just curious, Bagman, no need to get defensive,” he put his hands up in surrender, thoroughly enjoying seeing his former rival riled up. 

Javy bit back a smile. 

"Yeah, Bagman, don't need to get your panties in a bunch." 

Natasha smirked as Jake shot her daggers. 

"If I were wearing panties, they would be the most unbunched pair you'd ever seen." 

Jake grumbled, sending a glare to his teammates as they laughed and snorted. 

“Plus, it’s not that way with her. We’re just friends.”

Jake took a spoonful of stew, purposefully avoiding his colleagues unimpressed glances. 

“Right.”

Jake glared as Phoenix took a bite of her sandwich.

“Alright, I think that’s enough teasing. Can’t waste all our material in one day.”

Javy shot him a wink as Jake flipped him off, his remaining colleagues breaking into soft chuckles.

The topic was diverted to the back burner for the time being, to the point where Jake forgot about the text he planned to send. 

Conversation flowed from when the new recruits were coming in, to summer plans, and to different get togethers on weekends planned within their friend group. 

A small sense of panic ran through him as Phoenix suggested that Caledonia be invited to all of their summer plans. Including their Barbenheimer-themed pool and BBQ party in July.

He guaranteed Caledonia wouldn’t want to come if he was there after the message he was typing out was sent. 

Soon it was time to wrap up and head back out to the briefing room and get ready to fly in the latter portion of the day.

Jake took one last pensive glance at his phone.

This is better. For the both of us.

Jaw tensing, he pressed send. 

He cleaned up the rest of his lunch and left the breakroom in a silence coated by the soft buzzing of the overhead lights and the impending crack of broken hearts.

—

A sigh left your lips. 

How could you have been so stupid?

You should have read the label more clearly before measuring it out. 

Your mind swam with detrimental thoughts of the days failed experiment. 

The cells you spent the previous day growing were wasted when you accidentally put too strong of a solvent after the cells were centrifuged.

It also didn’t help that Ella was away presenting at a conference at the other side of the country.

Frankly, you just wanted to go home, take a nice shower, nestle into your sheets, and forget about the frustrating day you got out of. 

A sigh left your lips as you settled into the drivers seat of your car, feeling your frustration dissipate from your body, and be quickly filled with exhaustion.

You bit the inside of your lip as you waited for your phone to turn on and see any messages you missed. 

The thought of texting Jake to see if he wanted to come over crossed your mind. 

A small smile formed at the thought.

Message from well-fed raccoon :) not downloaded.

You opened the app, tapping on his contact icon. 

Your brows furrowed, heart plummeting to the deepest parts of your chest. 

We shouldn't do this arrangement anymore. I'm sorry. 

You couldn't help but read over the two sentences. Over and over again. Hoping, praying, that they would be something different.

A rattled sigh left your lips, letting your eyes clench shut, and head hit your seat. 

Tears pricked your eyes. A dribble quickly turning into a torrential downpour. 

Soon, your car was wracked with the repeated, frenzied collisions of your head against the upholstery of your driver's seat. 

You stopped with one final hit of your head against the faux leather portion of the head rest, feeling your scowl morph into a groan ridden scowl.

Why the fuck did this have to happen?

What was wrong with you? 

Not only did you have to worry about attracting someone, but now you had to worry about keeping them. 

Was it your weight? 

Your busy schedule? 

Did he find out about your depression? Anxiety?

You did your damndest to ensure that Jake knew nothing of that part of you. 

Your lip quivered as you broke into a sob marked by wails and sniffles, no different from that of a wounded animal. 

God, you couldn’t help but feel that this was coming. 

This arrangement; it was all too good to be true. 

You scoffed through your tears. 

You shouldn’t have been so stupid. 

He was called Hangman for a reason. 

Your virginity. Your very first experiences with sex.

Your eyes shut as you realized the gravitas of this risk, only sobbing harder.

What if he had only wanted you because you’d never been with anyone else?

This was absolutely devastating. 

The world was crashing down around you. You couldn’t breathe with how hard you had started crying, unable to help the feeling of violation that invaded your veins like a poison, turning your blood to a thick sludge, making your heart beat like an engine in overdrive to compensate. 

In your blurry eyed, emotionally compromised state, you only wanted to hear one voice.

Penny’s.

She’d understand.

You didn’t want to explain to your mom that you developed a ‘situationship’ with a deadly man and that it bit you in the ass. Hard. 

The familiar rumble of the engine filled your car. You swiped away at the continuously flowing tears and mustered enough energy and a sliver of mental clarity to get home safe. 

—

“Hey, Cali, how was-”

Penny’s word died on her lips.

The sunny San Diego weather backdropped your teary, red eyes and cheeks, curled lips, and tears streaming down your pretty face. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she strode towards you, encasing you in a hug as you reached out to her, “what’s wrong?”

You sniffled, burying your face into her sweater-clad shoulder.

“Sweetheart, I can’t hear you.”

You lifted your head from her chest. 

“Jake doesn’t want me anymore.” 

Penny’s heart broke at the sight, gently pulling you back to her, wrapping you in her embrace as sobs wracked your body. 

Her heart continued to crack for you with each sob and gasp you let out, gently running her hand through your hair.

You tried not to think about how Jake would do the same thing when he kissed you. 

He used to bring you so much joy, but now you felt hypersensitive to even the thought of Hangman. 

Touching you. 

Speaking to you. 

Looking at you. 

How he cuddled with you when you slept over that one night.

How he made breakfast with you the next morning.

How he knew your favorite flavor of gelato from Francisco’s. 

How he bought you $300 worth of sex toys.

Was this all some kind of sick game to him? 

It made your breathing difficult and skin crawl. 

How could you have let someone in so close, and know every inch of your body?

“Shhh, Caledonia, it’s ok… let it out.”

Penny knew that Hangman had a reputation. Anyone who frequented the Hard Deck knew that.

But she saw the way he looked at Caledonia when she was busy preparing drinks. Or when she was fixing the juke box. Or wiping down tables. 

Penny’s hope for the relationship to succeed was overshadowed by the bubbling sense of anger in her belly. 

How could Hangman do such a thing to you? 

What was your situation with him exactly?

She continued to soothe you. 

“Cali, I’m so sorry… would you want me to call Ella to come over?”

You shook your head, “Ella’s at a conference, and I don’t want to make her worried,” the lump in your throat evident with each break from sniffling.

Penny’s eyebrows furrowed.

You didn’t tell your bestfriend, because you didn’t want to worry her?

Hangman was such an asshole for letting you go. 

To both himself, and you. 

“Ok, I’m going to call Halo and Phoenix and see if they can come over. Ok? Would that help?”

You nodded, lip quivering as another round of sobs made your body crumple against hers. 

“What am I," sniffle, "supposed to do now?” 

Your sob-ridened words made Penny’s heart ache as she watched the bright, beautiful, smart girl she knew be deduced to a sobbing mess.

If she could help it, Hangman wouldn’t be allowed to step foot into her bar without being overboarded. 

So she did the next best thing; holding you in her open doorway as you sobbed into her knitted top.

“It’s ok, sweetheart…shhh… it's going to be ok.”

That only made you cry harder.

—

Jake’s front door opened with a click, taking his shoes off with a soft thud, not bothering to arrange them on the floor with the rest.

He went through the motions of preparing dinner; the last remaining portion of the beef stew you made him.

His jaw tensed at the sight of the transparent hazel and oak bark brown stew staining the sides of the plastic container on the counter.

How was it so easy for something to go from warming the deepest darkest parts of his soul to being the equivalent of lead, coating his insides and making it hard to breathe?

Shouldn’t I be relieved?

Just as he suspected, the stew didn’t bring him the sense of comfort it did only a mere few days ago.

He sighed, languidly twisting and turning his spoon in the stew, moving the typically delectable sauteed mushrooms and tender beef around. 

Now they just made his stomach churn. 

Maybe it wasn’t ever the stew itself that was warm and comforting.

Maybe it was the fact that you were the one who made it.

You.

He continued to absentmindlessly stir, the familiar jingle of keys near the front door meeting his ears. 

“You’re home late.”

Jake’s seemingly dulled down tone made Javy furrow his eyebrows as he continued to undo his shoes. 

“Picked up something for Delilah.”

Jake only gave a small hum. 

“Everything alright?”

Jake took a deep exhale, avoiding his wingman’s gaze.

“Yeah,” he coughed,” yeah, I’m fine just tired.”

Javy stared as he trudged towards the stairs, his bowl of half finished left on the table.

His all too familiar air of confidence was elsewhere. 

As Javy heard Jake’s door shut, his phone buzzed. 

Phoenix: We need to talk. Can you meet at the Hard Deck tomorrow?

—

Jake couldn’t take his eyes off the ceiling as he laid on his bed. 

He should feel relieved. 

Relationships were never his strong suit, meaning he avoided them like the plague. 

He’d done it once, and never again. 

It was too…painful. Heart wrenching. Traumatizing. 

One-night stands were easier. Always easier. 

This arrangement was supposed to be just that. 

He’d help you out, teach you the ropes and then wish you luck on your future relationships. 

That was it. 

He was supposed to move on with his day without seeing things in his everyday life and not think about you. 

Not think, “Caledonia would love this”, or “ This would make her smile.”

You weren’t supposed to have an infectious smile, or a laugh that made him wish for glimpses of a future together, or be able to moan and whine so prettily that he would drown in if he could. 

Your lips weren’t supposed to be soft. Or sweet. Or pretty. 

Hell, you weren’t supposed to look as beautiful as you did in that velvet dress at Admiral Cain’s retirement ball. Or as you walked towards him in his booth at Fransisco’s. Or as you opened the door when he was supposed to teach you how to give a blowjob. Or as you stood before him in front of the mirror in the dressing room of Pleasures of the 3rd Kind.

Or when he first saw your body without the hindrance of clothes. 

But the state of dress, or undress, didn’t change how he saw you.

It was all you.

You. 

He could feel his heart beat faster and cheeks heat as reminisced on his moments with you. 

But those moments seemed to dwarf in comparison to his moments with you outside of your lessons together. 

Getting gelato together. 

Playing cards with Amelia. 

Making up a story to get a 15% discount on sex toys.

Slow dancing with you. 

Feeling your lips on his cheek.

Your soft, tender kisses.

Your warm, safe, secure hugs.

Your infectious, warm laugh that made his chest explode with warmth.

How you cared for him so effortlessly.

The fact you took time out of your busy schedule to care of him when he was sick. 

He hadn’t been taken care of like that since he left home. 

Those moments made him feel some sliver of deservance of your affections. Of your devoted, unconditional love.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

He was supposed to be able to move on with his life, like with every one-night stand he’d been with before. 

Say goodbye to you after he ‘hit and split,” and never think about you again.

Or to never feel the need to think about you again. 

It should have been a relief, cutting off this arrangement with you.

But it wasn’t. 

And he’d have to live with that. 

The fact he was stupid enough, scared enough, and selfish enough to let you go.

To not tell you what he needed to tell you.

Jake could feel his ill placed relief morph into a deep rooted sadness in his empty chest.

Like a spoon scrapping the inside of a pomegranate until there was nothing but rind. 

A rattled sigh left his lips, feeling a lump in his throat begin to settle.

What am I supposed to do now?

Taglist: 

@marvel-hotchner @nemesis729 @a-lil-bit-nuts @justagirllivinginaghibliworld @mizzzpink @themusingofagothicsoul @mayhemmanaged @sebsxphia @potato-girl99981  @a-beaverhausen @withahappyrefrain @hangmans-wingman @callmemana @joalslibrary @peachiicherries @mrsjaderogers @entertainmentgal8@jkbindigo11 @princess76179 @clancycucumber230 @teacupsandtopgun

@chaoticassidy @superskittles @cherrycola27 @nancyxsorbet @h-ngm-ns @emma8895eb @djs8891 @novastories @urmom-999 @taytaylala12 @zombicupcake3 @catsficrecs @abaker74 @kmc1989 @hangmanshoney @caidi-paris @i-wanna-be-your-muse @shara-ne @memeorydotcom

[heavenlyakin]

you bring me home - nagi seishiro x fem!reader

WC: 801 | Warnings: barely edited/proofed, college au, fem reader, established friendships, friends to lovers trope, use of “angel” as a pet name. Sfw all around. MINORS DNI

Description: The moment Nagi Seishiro realizes he’s been in love with you for years, without noticing it. 

A/n: I hope you enjoy this! Thanks to @seraphofthesimps for the idea! 

The familiar white hair is impossible to miss when you walk into the dining hall. You can’t help the smile that creeps up on your cheeks and the heat that rushes to your cheeks. Of course, beside Seishiro is his best friend, Reo talking in his ear over their lunch trays. The lunch bag in your hand suddenly feels heavier, the weight of the two lunches you packed. 

He’s been complaining about the dining hall lunches for a week now, just unhappy with the selection and missing home-cooked food. In the few years, you’ve known him, since middle school, you’ve always picked up on little things he’s said and tried to accommodate. Not to the extent that Reo has, but little things. 

It was a given that when Seishiro started complaining about the food, you asked a friend with an apartment and kitchen if you could start using it to meal prep. He mentioned liking lemon tea once and for the remainder of high school, you always ensured your mom kept it in your cabinets for when he came over to study with you. You always traded with other classmates to make sure he was who you got to buy for Secret Santa at Christmas, knowing no one else, even Reo, would be able to get him a gift he truly liked. 

So when he decided he would attend the same university as you, mostly because Reo argued it had the best soccer program of all his offers, you were elated. It was a shot in the dark that you’d get in, but you did and you were able to keep your two best friends with you. 

“Sei, Reo,” you greet them, sitting across from them. Sei smiles at you and then goes back to pushing some peas around his tray. 

“Whatcha got there?” Reo grabs for your bag and you pull it away quickly.

“Nothing for you!” You stick your tongue out at him. “Sei, I brought you a treat!” 

You open the bag, pulling out a thermos with his favorite tea and a bento box full of his favorite foods.” 

“No way, really?” He looks up, his gray eyes shining. “You’re the best, —--.” 

Your cheeks heat up again and you smile, looking away. 

“God, it’s like I’m not even here,” Reo complains, sighing and shoving a spoonful of peas in his mouth. 

“Shut up, Reo.” You glare at him, cheeks still hot. “You’re just jealous you have a shitty lunch while Sei and I have my home-cooked meal.” 

“Yeah, clearly,” something crosses Reo’s face, and he smiles deviously. “I would be jealous if I had a pretty girl fawning over me for years too.” 

“Reo.” You nearly hiss his name, looking to see if Sei hasn’t been listening, or at least you think he’s not. 

“What?” He smiles, leaning forward, closer to you. “Embarrassed?” 

Hurt by Reo’s comments, you pack up your bag and leave the table. Reo has known how you felt about Sei for years, you had confessed it to him one night when you Sei, and Reo snuck alcohol upstairs to Reo’s room and got wasted for the first time. Sei had fallen asleep and in your drunken stupor, you admitted your feelings for your best friend. 

Until now he has always respected the secret and kept it between the two of you. Whatever is up his ass today has clearly set him off and in turn hurt you. 

“Hey, wait!” The familiar soothing voice grabs your attention just as Sei places his hand on your shoulder, stopping you from walking out the dining hall doors. 

“Sorry, Sei, I just have to run off to a class I forgot I signed up for,” the lie rolls off your tongue, but you have to hold back the tears. Luckily, he hasn’t stepped in front of you to see that you’re welling up. 

Shrugging off his hand from your shoulder, you walk out the dining hall doors and into the empty hallway. 

“Wait! I have something to say!” Sei follows you and grabs your hand, moving to step in front of you quicker than you can walk away from him. “No, please don’t cry,” his hands reach for your face, taking your cheeks in his palms. He wipes the stray tear off your cheek with his thumb. 

“Sorry, I’m just-” 

“I’ve been so blind, angel,” Sei whispers, calling you angel for the first time in your life. 

“Sei,” you whisper, eyes welling more. 

He leans down, kissing you and pulling you closer to him. His lips are softer than you imagined, and he tastes divine. You grab his shirt, pulling him as close as you can as you kiss him back, your lips finally moving against his. 

“You’ve always been the one, I’ve just been so so blind.”

[princess-of-the-corner]

MLP Rewrite AU - Friendship Games (if you haven't done it already)

Okay so I debated on this for a hot minute but like. I /did/ rewrite this once

but there's one thing I want to think about re: rewriting it again.

Which is just how different Sci-Twi is from Twilight. I mentioned this before but while the rest of the Counterparts are pretty indistinguishable from each other, Sci-Twi is the only one who is a whole ass different person. Which makes sense!! It's totally believable that their different upbringings would make them different!

But at the same time, she's just so different from Twilight that it bothers me. And I think my best bet right now is going to be mixing the two. Because if I went full on keeping Twilight's personality in Sci-Twi's situation, she'd derail the plot like 10 times throughout the movie.

Okay as for some rewrite:

Sci-Twi is still quite anti-social, but it's less 'meek and scared' and more closer to the Pony self in Season 1. Where she just does not have time for everyone's bullshit when she can be learning more things! This is exacerbated by the fact that Crystal Prep is full of dicks, so any time VP Cadence tries to get her to branch out and make friends, they're jerks

Spike is a Human in this too, a Freshman while Twi's a Senior. He's better socially on the whole but Crystal Prep isn't really the best place for making friends so he doesn't really have any and tends to stick to Twilight between classes and help her with projects(extra credit points are a bonus!)

Plot is very the same. Twilight's investigating the weird energy signals she's been picking up while somehow everyone from Crystal Prep hasn't heard jack shit about the Magic nonsense going around CHS. The Friendship Games are coming up, and Cinch wants Twilight to compete. To the point of blackmailing her with approving or denying her study program.

Twilight is quite annoyed by this tactic, but isn't too bothered on being able to complete the goal. She's more upset that competing will keep her from investigating the school since she already figured out that the energy signals are coming there, but hopefully she'll still get something. That said she will be mentioning it to Shining and their parents later.

Meanwhile the Rainbooms are dealing with their Magic just kinda happening and not quite figuring out what's causing it.

Yadda yadda, Twilight and Spike show up and is creeped out by everyone seeming to know their names? What the fuck? Though it doesn't take long for all of CHS to find out 'oh, that's Twilight's Human Counterpart and she's at Crystal Prep???'.

Twilight causes issues thanks to her device draining Magic and opening portals. The Rainbooms try to talk to her, but keep getting interrupted by either the Games or just the Shadowbolts thinking that they're starting shit and turning it into a back-and-forth trash talk.

They get some of a chance to talk to Twilight when her and Spike wander off to try and eat their lunch in peace, but Fluttershy is also trying to eat her lunch in the relative peace of being surrounded by local animals.

Fluttershy is nice ofc and asks Twilight why she seems so frustrated, and Twi starts ranting about the energy signals and all that. And Shy's like 'have you..... tried asking anyone? Because we'd all tell you about the whole magical pony counterpart dimension'. And Twi's like 'Why would anyone tell me anything when I'm just a student from a rival school being a nosy fucker and did you say 'magical pony counterpart dimension???'

Fluttershy just kinda smiles and reminds her that, for as many mean people there are, there are plenty of kind ones willing to help wherever they can. She'd be fully willing to answer any of Twilight's questions!

Cue Pony-Up sequence, Twilight's device draining Flutters' Magic, more portals opening, and Spike being temporarily yeeted through before getting pulled back to their world.

Twilight is already panicking because okay oh shit this is not only starting to get very dangerous but holy FUCK who knows what that could've done to Spike is he okay she doesn't want her little brother to get hurt because of her!

Spike says he feels fine, though he was sure something weird was happening. Fluttershy tries to assure them that it's just part of the portal transforming people into their Counterparts, but that isn't most reassuring. Especially when Spike sneezes fire because yep contact with Magic /did/ change him a bit.

Twilight is too panicked to ask any more questions, instead trying to run off somewhere fully alone and have a mini breakdown and try to figure out a way to dismantle the device she has to keep if from doing more dangerous things. Unfortunately she's dragged back into the Games.

She actually does decently well in her part of the triathalon(Twilight may be a nerd, but she had Shining as an older brother. She's not a pushover when it comes to athletic stuff even if it's not her vibe.). But she's still shaking too much from earlier for the archery part. Instead of starting to cry like in canon, she's still low-key crying but about to take off Sour Sweet's head because you are not helping!!

Unfortunately AJ gets there first of like 'Girl shut the FUCK up your teammate's doing decent and you saying untrue shit to hurt her ain't helping!' before trying her best to help Twilight stay grounded in reality enough to make the shot.

This counts as enough truth and honesty to get a pony up, and whoops Magic Drain and Portals! Absolute chaos and danger!

Afterward Twilight tries to both apologize and swallow her pride to ask for help because yeah clearly the others know what's going on. But ofc kicking everything off again by draining Rainbow's Magic and opening more Portals.

Sunset.... doesn't handle this well. Like she was already dealing with the frustration of Magic doing weird shit, she was feeling inferior because 'surely Princess Twilight would've had a handle on this by now but I've made no progress!', her friends have been put in so much danger thanks to this whole thing, and she's low-key projecting with seeing someone so genuinely curious but messing with things they don't understand in ways that have no safety nets for when shit goes wrong.

So she snaps and yells at Twilight about it. Which makes Twilight both sad and frustrated because damn it she's trying and maybe Sunset has a point but also she's panicked enough as it is and doesn't want to hurt anyone else!! So she storms off.

Spike is at least trying to get more answers with less direct frustration.

The next round starts and.... well. Twilight's dealing with Cinch's dishonest blackmail scheme. She's dealing with her classmates turning against her. Both making it clear that they're only using her for what she can give them. The only way to make things right for anyone is to go through with this plan, but she's so scared to hurt someone with it now that she sees the danger she's been putting them in and how unstable it is. The only way to fix this, all of it, is to push through and learn what she can. If she has more knowledge, she can find a solution.

The negative energy around her creates Midnight Sparkle, not a Demon but a Dark Angel. All of her desires magnified, with no care to what may happen. What does she have left here? People who don't give a fuck about her? But there's a whole world of Magic where she can at least learn new things. Give herself some semblance of joy.

Sunset manages to use the Elements as well. Midnight vs. Daydream. Like Canon, Spike manages to call out to Twilight. A reminder that, as bad as thing had gotten, she still has people here who love her. Allowing Daydream to push through with her Magic as well.

An offered hand, a promise that things get better. Friendship given, deep from the heart.

In the aftermath, it's hard for most of Crystal Prep to ignore the obvious lesson. Seeing what their actions turned Twilight into, seeing what CHS' Friendship let Sunset become. It'll take a bit for them to change as well, but.... Twilight gets more proof that asking for help comes through because yeah telling her brother and parents about Cinch's blackmail attempt helped uncover even more of it and at minimum she's getting a forced retirement, allowing Cadence to take over as Principal for now.

Even so, Twilight wants to learn more. Both about Friendship and about Magic and everything inbetween. And it'd be a lot easier for her to do that at CHS. (And they're dragging Spike too lmao)

[away-ward]

Outside the Lines

Summary: Will commits his first of many felonies for Emory Scott, and she doesn't even know it. But it's fine. Because at least she'll still be around tomorrow.

Setting: pre-canon; Will is in 10th, Emory in 9th. Shortly after the first Devil's Night referenced in Corrupt.

Requested. Got a little out of control and sidetracked, but hopefully it works.

Thank you for reading.

Will

“You’re planning something for the charity case, aren’t you?” Callum Claythorne said, blowing hot breath on the back of my neck.

I moved away, put off by how close he was behind me but didn’t let it show. He laughed under his breath, gaze focused across the room. The sound made my stomach drop for all the wrong reasons.

“Way ahead of you. Just watch.”

I could chill with anyone. Callum hung around often, somewhat popular and didn’t seem to have a problem pulling any girl he wanted. Black hair, kind of watery blue eyes. I didn’t feel anything about him one way or another. Damon, however, had strong opinions. He called Callum Asslicker because of the way he fawned over Michael, and I used to laugh because he had a butt-chin and a habit for licking his lips. But ever since Devil’s Night a few weeks ago, Callum’s obsession over us had gotten worse. It was kind of creeping me out.

He jutted his narrow chin towards the table in the corner. Maybe leaning in the doorway, staring at the table’s single occupant wasn’t the most covert move.

But then, I wasn’t trying to be covert. I wanted her to know I was looking. Wanted her to feel my attention from across the room, like I felt her whenever she entered the building.

 She felt it, didn’t she?

 Most trips and dances are included in our tuition, but the extracurriculars like the winter ski trip cost something. Student volunteers took shifts collecting payments during lunch and after school, and I knew Emory Scott would be one of those volunteers as part of her work-study program. I stopped by the office to check the schedule to be sure she was the one working when I got my ticket, if only because it meant she couldn’t avoid me.

She’d gotten good at pretending I didn’t exist.

Emmy’s schedule included first lunch shift and a half-hour after school. I waited all week so that the rush would die down as the other students got theirs, giving me more time with her. But as her shift neared its end, so did my window of opportunity. After this, my only possibility was the afterschool shift, but I had practice at the same time.

Vera Armstrong approached to take over for her and I fidgeted by the door, too aware of Callum watching me watch her.

His low voice came from behind. “I’ve seen the way she treats you.”

She’s tough. I gave her everything I had, and she gave me back nothing but vitriol. But God, if I didn’t love that fire that flares up whenever I came close. She didn’t do that for anyone else. If the opposite of love is indifference...and love and hate are two sides of the same coin...then that must make us something, right?

Maybe I’m getting confused; English was never my thing.

Emory dutifully filled out the form on the clipboard that transferred responsibility of the lockbox and card machine over to Vera, and then held it out to her to sign. Ignoring her, Vera took the only chair and pulled her phone from her pocket. Emory waited. I could see her lips move as she tried to goad Vera into cooperating. Nothing worked, and finally Em slammed the clipboard down, along with a key on a spiral wristband.

My eyes automatically followed her as she approached the door. I stood straighter, waiting for the eye contact to come. The girl had me practically salivating like a dog for it, but she just breezed past as if I were invisible.

Damn, that hurt. I grinned, head hanging down. Sometimes, she’s too tough.

But why isn’t she eating? I knew she wasn’t rich like the typical student at TBP, but she could afford a good lunch, right? I had half a mind to follow her and demand to know.

“Watch,” Callum reminded me.

I did as Vera was joined by two juniors, Tommy Price and Bobby Lee. Her eyes lifted from the phone to scan the room as they slipped the lockbox full of student’s checks, and the receipt pouch, into a backpack and then disappearing into the crowd. Once they were gone, Vera called the teacher watching the lunch period over. Lots of hands waving and looks of confusion followed. It didn’t take a genius to guess what she was saying.

Stealing school property violated the student code of conduct.

I turned back to Callum, hooding my eyes. “You arranged this?”

He smirked, lifting his shoulder casually. “Not everyone in this place is useless, bro. I’ve seen you watching the charity case. Knew I could help you remind her of her place.”

Bro? I cocked my head. Was he trying to impress me? Hoping I’d go back to the guys and tell them how awesome he is? Because I’m the fun one who loves people.

Running my tongue along the edge of my teeth, I took all I had not to slam him into the wall. That wouldn’t be enough, though.

“Where’s the box being kept?” I asked Callum, serious for once, hoping that he didn’t read into my voice any.

The smug bastard grinned. Good. “It's in a safe place. We’re still working on getting her combination, but after that, we’ll put it in hers.” He laughed and nudged me with his elbow. “Let’s see her brother get her out of this. He’s all for justice when it’s one of us, but I bet when it’s his own family, he’ll drop the act.”

I couldn’t care less about her brother. He’s just a petty patrol officer handing out tickets for broken taillights and whatever. Of course, he’d back up his sister. It was the other thing he said that pricked me. One of us. Was he talking about the school, or did he really think he could work his way into our crew? That he could cozy up to me and we’d just welcome him?

Fuck that. That's not how this worked.

Patting Callum on the shoulder, I gave him a firm squeeze, imagining it was his neck. “Nice, man,” I said and walked away, slipping my phone out of my pocket.

My first text was to the kid that worked in the office. A quiet freshman and good kid, before his first kickback when I gave him my last blunt. Now, he looks at me as if I’m some sort of benevolent god. I tell him to ignore anyone else seeking information on Emory Scott, promising something in it for him if he follows through. Next, I texted the guys to meet me outside by the cars.

Kai and Michael were already there by the time I made it to student parking. Michael sat in the trunk of his G-Class, propping his leg up to rest his arm on his knee while Kai leaned against the frame of his fancy new Jeep. I couldn’t wait until it got its first scratch so he would stop babying it. I wanted to take that thing out and see what it could do. Exciting stuff, getting older. My birthday was still months away, but I already had an idea of what I wanted.

One thing I knew for sure, the truck I brought home was going to get dirty real quick.

And I had other plans for it, too.

Damon walked up last. “What are we doing out here? I’m starving.”

He was nowhere to be seen during lunch, but none of us pointed that out. Michael tossed a protein bar from the duffle bag in his trunk. He caught it and tore into the silver wrapper. He gave me a once over as he chewed through his first bite, lips curling back in a sneer. "What's pissed you off?”

“Nothing, I’m good,” I shrugged, and stuffed my hands in my pant pockets. “Get this, Claythrone thinks he’s got what it takes to run with us.” I chuckled as Damon groaned with annoyance. He really hated that guy.

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“He just bragged about this lame-ass prank he pulled on Emory Scott,” I said, kicking some loose gravel in an attempt to look casual about it.

“The scholarship kid?” Kai asked.

I nodded.

“What’d he do?” he continued. I forced myself to ignore the note of concern in his voice. Kai cared about people. Like genuinely cared.

I told them what I’d seen and what he told me, laying out his entire idea. I laughed, “He thinks we’d be impressed.”

“The fuck,” Damon scoffed under his breath, tossing the wrapper to the wind and bringing a cigarette to his lips. “Like that’s so hard. She can’t even cash the checks. They’re made out to the school.”

Kai’s eyebrows pinched, glaring at Damon for any number of reasons. “She could still get expelled for stealing.”

“Emory’s smarter than that,” I ground out, tired of them talking about her like it was even a possibility.

“Oh, she is, yeah?” Kai asked. His eyes shone with humor, and I hated the fact that I was being so obvious. It’s not that they couldn’t know that I loved her. I just wanted to keep her to myself for a while. I didn’t want anyone’s attention on her, especially not Kai’s. He’s too likable.

His approval was in my favor, though, because I needed all the reasons to persuade Michael to action. I’d move without him, of course. Contrary to rumor, we didn’t need his permission to do anything. It’s just more fun with the four of us together.

“Who fucking cares about the girl,” Damon asked, watching me. When I gave him nothing, he moved on, looking to Michael. “Claythorne, however, needs to be dealt with.”

Damon was right. Callum wanted to be one of us. He’d probably bought his own mask already. But he didn’t understand Devil’s Night or what we were doing.

We weren’t causing chaos and havoc just because we could…

Actually...that’s exactly why we were doing it.

Michael wanted Devil’s Night and the masks to remind us to live like nothing was off limits. We could spend our entire life dying inside the boundaries and lines society drew for us. Or we can really live the way we wanted, with all the mischief and mayhem that we could bring. Nothing was really forbidden if we wanted it enough.

We brought our people along of course, but there was never any question about who was leading the celebration. Because that’s what it was – a celebration of being young and alive and unburdened by society’s expectations.

That’s what Callum Claythorne didn’t get. We weren’t bullying or hazing people. Especially not those less fortunate than us. That’s not fun and it wasn’t what we were about. Anyone who punched down deserved to have their ass owned.

Michael looked at the school. Our school. Then back to me. “Got any ideas?”

***

An hour later, we circled the principal’s brand-new Lexus. Black hoodies and masks all the way, it took no time at all for Damon to get the keys from his office and drive it off school property. Kai and Michael grabbed set paint from the Theater’s Set and Prop room, while I got the last crucial item before Michael drove us to connect with Damon about two miles on the highway going away from town.

On the way, I texted Callum, asking him to meet us outside Sticks for a little fun. He texted back that he was on his way. Too bad we went in the opposite direction. We drove until we saw the silver car parked on the side of the road, close to the tree line and Michael pulled in behind it.

“This feels stupid,” Kai said as he got out of the passenger side. I couldn’t see his face through his silver mask, but I could image his expression: unimpressed.

“It’s supposed to,” Damon chimed in. “We’re not exactly dealing with a criminal mastermind.”

Michael steps forward, offering me the first can of paint from the back of the G-Class. “Honors,” he said.

I popped the top, revealing the deep blue inside. Stepping up, I take a second to admire just how much we’re going to fuck up this pretty car.

“Do you think his insurance covers Horsemen?” I joked, before swing back and letting the paint fly. After that, it’s free for all. Someone slashed the tires; another went at the leather seats. The sound of it ripping was like a song. It was Damon that drew an erect dick on the hood.

When the paint was all gone and the car thoroughly trashed, we stepped back to examine our handiwork, lifting our masks up and tucking them into the hoods. Damon swung an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. “Happy now?”

I nodded, smiling big. A little property damage is good for the soul. “But I also kinda want to set it on fire,” I said, imagining the smoke rising off the scorched metal.

That got two responses at the same time. One from Damon, who said, “Fucking pyro,” and went for his lighter because he loves to make me happy.

The other was from Kai, who growled, “Absolutely not,” because he’s still concerned about getting arrested and what his daddy would say.

It was Michael who looked at the woods next to us and frowned. “Not this close to the trees. I don’t want to start a real fire.”

I shook my head. Seriously. How could he be so wild one minute and boring the next?

But then he proved he had something more in him. “Next time,” Michael promised, making me smile again. “Bigger than this.”

Damon approached Kai, running a hand under Kai’s jaw, pinching his chin. “It’s gonna happen eventually, you know,” he sang.

Kai slapped Damon’s hand away, but I came in right after, drawing Kai close by wrapping my arm around his neck and laughing, “Don’t worry, if we do get arrested, your pretty face will finally come in handy.”

“Bitch,” he called me, twisting out of my grasp.

Damon clutched the front of his pants. “Which is what you’ll be for some big hairy man.”

Michael and I laughed as Kai went at him. Damon could throw a punch, but Kai trained since childhood. It was never really a fair fight. I could even throw Damon down when I wanted to, which is how I knew Kai pulled his strength to toy with him.

“Alright,” Damon grunted, struggling in Kai’s chokehold while he chuckled in Damon’s ear. “Let go, or I’ll tell your dad you wear shoes in the house when he’s not home.”

“Say please,” Kai taunted.

“Fucker.”

Kai rolled his eyes but let him go, shoving him away.

Damon flipped him his middle finger, but even I could tell he was in a good mood.

We shed the jackets, hiding them in Michael’s ride. He’d burn them later, stained with paint as they were. Before we left, I tossed Callum’s wallet by the tire. Easy to see, but not like it was planted. As we got closer to the school, Kai placed the call in to the police station from a burner phone.

“Those damn hellions are at it again,” I shouted while Kai tried to turn away so they didn’t catch my voice. I howled when he hung up, hyped and ready for more. Always ready.

We’d only missed one period after lunch, but I had that office kid mark our attendance so it wouldn’t count against us. I promised myself to learn his name since he kept coming in clutch. Walking through the halls, we passed the office. I happened to glance through the windows to see Emory Scott sitting on the bench outside the principal’s door, her bag sitting at her side.

She’d been kept from class. Kai’s words from before about her getting expelled came back and that pissed me off all over again. I already had limited access to her. Take school away and I had nothing.

It took less than an hour for the cops to show up outside the school. The four of us spared each other discreet glances as we waited to see who was called – us or him. After getting through our first class without hearing our names on the intercom, we knew the plan had worked. It was confirmed when the rumors of Callum’s escapade started circulating, and then blew up when they found the lockbox exactly where I knew it would be.

His locker. Because he’s an idiot that keeps the evidence on him instead of a neutral location behind a lock no one else as the combination or key to. Duh.

It wasn’t enough, though. I still needed to see Emmy; to know she’d be here tomorrow. I searched for her between classes. Even the back of her head would have been enough to calm me, but as the students flooded the halls, I couldn’t find any sign of her.

“Tell me something,” Michael said as we stood outside the door of our last class of the day.

I glanced from side to side, looking either direction down the hall even though she never came up this way. Focusing on him, I paused. He leaned back against the hall of lockers, brown hair fanning over his lighter eyes, looking at me like he knew something.

“What’s up?” I asked casually.

“Was it all for the girl?”

All for her? Did I really drag my friends out of school and to go after another student, simply because he threatened a girl who wouldn’t give me the time of day?

I blew out a breath, unable to hold back my stupid smile. “Yeah.”

"Was it worth it?"

"I guess we'll see." He’s gonna nail me for this. I couldn’t imagine Michael ever losing his head over a girl. I felt like I lived in a hurricane whenever I thought of Emmy; alive and yet out of control. He'd never survive this feeling.

 Instead, he smirked. “I get it,” he said, lifting from the lockers and going into class just as the bell rang. Then he stopped, preventing me from following him, looking at me over his shoulder. “Have fun, Will, just don't become her puppet. Control it.”

I laughed as I followed him to our seats. Too late.

***

I was out of my seat just before the final bell, before Michael or the teacher could say anything. “Cover for me,” I told him, ducking around students getting their still shit together.

I needed to be on the court in fifteen minutes, which means I needed to book it down to the cafeteria if I wanted to get a second with Emmy before getting punishment laps.

Slowing down in the hall before the double doors, I hesitated. What if she wasn’t in there?

My heart stopped as I rounded the corner.

There she was, already at the table. The lockbox and receipt pouch had been returned. The room was mostly empty, save for a few lingering around the vending machines at the other end of the room.

Her face didn’t lift from the textbook in front of her as I approached, but I saw her thin shoulders pull up to her ears and then relax down. So, she knew I was here.

I waited, time limit forgotten, for her to look up.

She flipped the page. “You need something?”

Yeah, I need something. Look at me.

“Tickets.”

Emmy finally looked up, brow dipping, and frowned. “Tickets,” she asked, drawing out the s, “as in plural?”

“Yeah, that’s what it means,” I said, pulling my wallet out and getting my card.

Neutralizing her expression, Em busied herself with the card machine. “How many?”

“Two.”

She didn’t bat an eye. “That’ll be three thousand.”

I held my card out to her. “Save you a seat on the bus.”

“I’m sure your date would love that.”

“She probably wouldn’t,” I laughed. “She can’t seem to stand my company at all.”

She paused, studying me. I could tell she wanted to say something by the way her eyes searched my face, but there were too many things she wouldn’t give voice to. She had too many walls.

“I’m not going,” she ventured slowly, “I don’t ski.”

 I placed my hands on the table and leaned down so I can get closer to her. There’s nowhere for her to go. “There’s always the lodge where you can read by the fire or whatever it is you enjoy.”

“Throwing darts at pictures of the people I hate,” she interjected, giving me a pointed look.

“And then at night, we’ll share a hot chocolate. I’ll kiss the whipped cream off your nose.”

Emory gave me a mocking smirk, leaning forward. “And later I kiss it off of other place?”

One could dream.

“Please. You’re a cliché, William Grayson III, and I am unimpressed.” She tilted the machine towards herself so I couldn’t see what she was doing as she ran my card, handing it back to me. The machine beeped and my receipt rolled out. She ripped the edge and held it out to me. I didn’t take it.

“Why do you always say my full name like that,” I asked.

“Because it’s a mouthful.”

Automatically, I spat out, “So are other things.” I knew that was only going to make it worse, but I’d gotten the sense I already lost anyway. Why not go the extra mile to piss her off even more? At least then, she’d still be thinking of me after I left.

She glared over the rim of her dark glasses. “I say your full name because you’re a legacy, not someone I want to be friends with. And it’s a stupid name. The third.” She made a disgusted face. “Who does that to their kid?”

I lifted my shoulder. “I’m gonna name my kid William. He’ll be the fourth.”

She rolled her eyes, grumbling, “Of course, you are.” Wagging the receipt at me, she snapped, “Do you want this or not?”

I took it, quickly checking to make sure of what I already knew; she only charged me for one ticket, not two. “We could’ve had fun,” I told her, stuffing it my pocket.

She’d already started reading again. “I’d rather cut off my own legs than be trapped on top of a mountain with the lot of you.”

Well, at least she wasn’t limiting it to just me this time. That was something.

I stared at the top of her head, feeling unresolved even though she gave a clear sign she was done with me. I began to lean forward, pulled down by something. At the same time, Emmy picked up her head, seeming startled that I was still so close.

For the first time in a while, I got to see the details of her eyes up close. Dark brown and swimming, reminding me of the hot chocolate she wouldn’t share with me. Her lips fell open in a short gasp. I was near enough to feel the soft burst of air that rushed out. Her frizzy hair came forward, nearly covering her face and I raised my hand to…touch it? Brush it back? I just needed…

“Callum Claythorne was arrested,” she whispered.

I didn’t touch her. Not yet. “I know. For vandalizing the principal’s car.” They wouldn't hold him for long but at least he should have gotten the message.

Emory rolled her lips, looking to the side. “They called my brother and I thought…” She blinked and shook her head. “But then the detectives arrived and when he was clearing out his locker, they found the lockbox.”

She was relieved she wasn’t going to be expelled, otherwise she wouldn’t be telling me this. She was just talking because I was listening. Still, my heart burst because it was me she confided in.

Her gaze returned to mine. “Did you have anything to do with Callum?”

I tilted my head.

“I saw you standing with him right before the box went missing,” she clarified. “Did you…”

She looked terrified of the answer, no matter what it would be. Yes or no, it wasn’t good news for her.

My lips twitched with a smile as I finally let my finger connect with the front strands of her hair, hooking it and slowly drawing it back to hook around her ear. From there, I dragged it back along her jaw, in awe of how soft and gold her skin was.

She didn’t move, watching me with wide eyes.

Why? Because I can. But that wasn't

“You should know, I would never let anyone hurt you,” I explained. “No one. Anything you need or want, you only need to ask for it.”

She licked her lips. Was she processing this? Did she finally get it?

"Why?"

Why, she asked. Why would I want to give her anything she wanted? Do anything and everything for her? Commit a felony for her? Nothing was out of bounds when it came to Emmy Scott. "Because I can."

I rubbed my thumb on the edge of her jaw, keeping her eyes on me. “What do you want, Em? You want to go on the trip?”

“I-I want…” she breathed, eyelids fluttering.

“Yes?”

“I want,” she repeated. Then she withdrew, that same hard glare returning, and she pulled away from my grasp. My hand closed on air. “I want you to leave me alone.”

It took me a minute, but I managed to swallow all the pain and hide it. Knocking my fisted knuckles against the table, I looked at her, meeting her glare with my usual cheer. “You can have anything you want,” I said with a smile, “except that. Another time, then.”

I stepped back, making sure her eyes stayed on me until I was good and ready to break contact. I was so late for practice I’d probably die doing laps, but it was more than worth it. Because I think I won this round.

***

Honestly, this got way out of hand. At some point I stopped trying to match Will's voice as close as possible and just tried to make it fun. Let me know if it worked.

I may come back later and work on the Emory part. For some reason, no matter the word processor I used, every time I wrote out that part, it got deleted. There's like five different versions of that scene floating around out there, forever lost to us. If I do change anything, I will note the edit at the top.

Thanks to everyone who showed interest in this and patiently waited for me to finish. Hope it was worth it.

Sorry for any mistakes or typos. Feel free to point them out.

Master List

[flautistsandpeonies]

End Racism in the OTW: AITA For Always Buying My Wife Cooking Themed Presents?

Read the Previous Part [Here]

Word Length: 2,060

Time to Read: 12 Minutes

You can also read this on my Wordpress.

Chapter Summary: Jin Zixuan posts on the AITA Reddit.

Curious about the title of this fanwork? I’m joining an effort to call on AO3 to fulfill commitments they have already made to address harassment and racist abuse on the archive. Read more, boost, and get involved here!

So, I’ve [23M] recently come under hot water with my wife [25F] after I gave her another anniversary gift. It was a 20-piece cobalt blue dutch cooking set with matching cooking mats, oven mitts, cutting board, and utensils. I was planning to have that one shipped to our summer house in the Mediterranean since we were going there for a vacation soon, but it looks like I might be returning it. I thought that she would really like it as cooking has been her favorite hobby ever since she was a child. I usually get her a new cooking set for each house we buy; like I got her a bronze cooking set after we bought a flat in France, but this time it actually made her really upset! She burst into tears and started talking about how we never truly talked about the things we liked to do when we were courting and how we’ve fixed ourselves into a relationship where we give each other meaningless gifts. She also likened us to our parents’ marriages, only that we didn’t fight as much as they do.

I got upset at first and shot back that she never tried to talk to me about any other things that she liked; that she only ever showed me the side of her that liked to cook. In the heat of the moment, I also made the quip that “unlike our fathers, I’m not afraid to divorce you if this marriage turns sour”. However, I really regret what I said and I want to make it up to her. I’m not really sure how to do that, however. Usually I buy her a gift if she gets a bit miffed with me, but I think that would only make this situation worse. I’m not the best with words either, and I’m afraid I may make her cry again.

As things are, we haven’t spoken in a couple days. We still sleep in the same bed and whenever I wake up breakfast is done, and lunch and dinner is cooked while I’m working, so things have only really changed on the social side of things.

Everyone, I really love my wife. I will admit that I used to not like her because when we were younger our mothers made a deal that if we were two separate genders then we would have to marry when we were older. I hated the idea of marrying someone I didn’t love, and I took the arranged marriage out on her by pretty much either pretending she didn’t exist or I was kind of rude to her.

I got lucky when I was 16, I went to a prestigious school program offered by one of the other families in our social circles. My wife’s little brother and foster brother were allowed to attend, and about three months in I said something kinda bad and her foster brother knocked my lights out, so our fathers ended up breaking the engagement. You may be thinking “how is that lucky?”, but by breaking the engagement I wasn’t forced to be with her, and a couple years later I decided to actually try to get to know her a bit and ended up falling in love. So, I guess I should probably thank her foster brother for punching me too huh?

But anyway, how should I fix this? Can I fix this? Or was I too much of an asshole and ruined my marriage to the best thing that’s ever happened me ever since my dad got sick and had to step down as family head?

...

Comments:

Marshmallow-Strap-On: YTA she’s probably sick and tired of you buying the same old things. You should really just try and sit down and talk things out. Maybe try to write down what you want to say to her since you have trouble voicing things out? -Original Poster: That’s an idea. I’ll definitely try it. --Marshmallow-Strap-On: Do you have any idea as to what her other hobbies may be? ---Original Poster: Honestly? No. You see, my wife was reared to be the “perfect madam” like all other heiresses in our social network, meaning she’s supposed to be able to handle the financials of the household, play an instrument, know a bit of strategy, that sort of thing. Other things such as hobbies, while she may have some, is not supposed have any interaction with the husband’s life and duties, as ugly as it is to say. ----Marshmallow-Strap-On: ....Oh my word..... (Click Here to Continue Thread)

Blade: YTA -Original Poster: Thanks...

10000-Karot-Blade: NTA, she should be grateful you even remembered to buy her anything. I own a few houses myself and my wife never complains about what I give her. Your wife sounds pretty selfish tbh, maybe you should think about that divorce. -Bach-Chow: Yeah right, I think I met your wife. Her name’s Brazzer’s Inflatable Princess, am I right? --10000-Karot-Blade: Oh fuck off, you dirty sewer rat. I’ll have you know I am a member of the elite Golden Phoenix Order, and I will not have you say such slander to me, over the internet or not. ---Original Poster: ...Zixun, is this you? ----10000-Karot-Blade: It is me, cousin. I can��t believe that you are looking to the lower class to solve your marital problems. Your father would be disappointed in you, the head of the family seeking help from the internet. ----Bach-Chow: This asshole is your fucking cousin? -----Original Poster: Small world, isn’t it? And no, he doesn’t have a wife, most woman are afraid of him. ------Bach-Chow: That brings me dread rather than pleasure. (Click Here to Continue Thread)

Russian-Doll: YTA, but since it seems like you want to do better, here’s some advice from a woman who’s been married for thirty-seven years. You two need to sit down and have a long talk about each other. Make sure to listen more than you speak, apologize if you interrupt her and do your damnest not to do it again. This conversation isn’t about who was “right” in the previous argument, it’s about gaining a better understanding of who you both are as people. -Original Poster: Oh my heaven, thank you, thank you, thank you so much. --Russian-Doll: It’s alright dear. How long have you been married? ---Original Poster: Two years, but we dated for four years, and we’ve known each other since we were children. ----Russian-Doll: Mhmm, and you said your mothers arranged your marriage, but then your fathers broke it up? -----Original Poster: Yeah. Our fathers know arranged marriages very intimately as they didn’t want to marry our mothers. Especially in my wife’s father’s case, he was forced to by his and his wife’s parents. ------Russian-Doll: He was forced to marry her!? (Click Here to Continue Thread)

Spy-Kids: Wait, so your moms wouldn’t have allowed ya’ll to get married if ya’ll were the same gender? -Original Poster: Nope. They would have had us been sworn siblings instead. --Spy-Kids: What planet do you people come from? ---Original Poster: I don’t follow your line of questioning.” ----Spy-Kids: Your mothers are homophobic? -----Original Poster: My mother has not mentioned her opinion on LGBT people, but yes my wife’s mother is homophobic. Unless we have the urge to become deaf we try not to bring it up in front of her. -------Spy-Kids: Jesus (Click Here to Continue Thread)

Small-Chungus: YTA. Odd, this is the second time I’ve heard about rich families and arranged marriages in a span of like a couple months. Quick question, your wife’s mother wouldn’t be happening to try to take her foster brother to court would she? -Original Poster: Umm, actually yeah she is... How would you know about this? --Small-Chungus: Here https://www.reddit.com/r/AmItheAsshole/comments/jc1ch1/aita_for_sticking_up_for_my_mother_against_my_father_and_foster_sibling/ ---Original Poster: ......Oh my heaven. Oh my fuck, a-Li has to read this. ----Small-Chungus: a-Li? -----Original Poster: My wife’s nickname. Oh my fuck she is gonna be so mad about this. ------Who-Killed-Roger-Rabbit: Wait, what happened? ------- Who-Killed-Roger-Rabbit: Ok, nvm. Holy shit, that guy’s your brother-in-law? What am asshole! --------Original Poster: This is so fucking crazy, he’s lost his fucking mind. Oh shit, I hope Lan Wangji hasn’t heard about this, he’s dead if he has. ---------Small-Chungus: Who’s Lan Wangji? (Click Here to Continue Thread)

Cooking-Companions: YTA for owning so many houses, nepotism baby. -Original Poster: Buying a house is cheaper than renting a space for a few months or getting a hotel. --Cooking-Companions: How many houses do you own? ---Original Poster: I will not tell you as I can tell your reply will not be respectful. ----Cooking-Companions: You do not need more than one house. There are thousands of people in the world who could use that space daily than you on your little vacations. -----Original Poster: I am a philanthropist, I can assure you I’m not like the other members of my family who flaunt their wealth and lord themselves over others. ------Cooking-Companions: I cannot relay to you how much I do not fucking care. (Click Here to Continue Thread)

Load More Comments (589)

...

Edit:

I’ve decided to update everyone on how things went with my wife.

So...it went really well!

I sucked it up and sat her down in the living room and we talked it out for hours. We went over our relationship from the beginning to now, we talked about our childhoods, our parents, our hobbies, pretty much everything.

I’ve learned that my wife loves wood carving, pyrography, map making, embroidery, and jet skiing! And she also likes the idea of entomology but her mother wouldn’t allow her to get into it cause it’s not “lady like”. I’m gonna get her some books on entomology as a surprise gift when we head to the Mediterranean.

We’ve also decided to talk to a marriage counselor. While we were still in the no talking phase my wife apparently spoke to her foster brother and he suggested counseling. I agreed cause it can’t hurt can it?

I’d like to thank everyone who gave me a push in the right direction. Our marriage is saved because of you all!

...

Comments:

Im-Mister-Heat-Mister: Looks like your NTA now, good job my guy.

Small-Chungus: Congrats man. Here’s to you becoming a better husband. NTA

Marshmallow-Strap-On: NTA anymore. Those entomology books sound like wonderful gift; hope she likes them!

Russian-Doll: Wonderful job young man. NTA

10000-Karot-Blade: I’m disappointed in you cousin. -Bach-Chow: Oh shut the fuck up, asshole

Cooking-Companions: So when are you going to give your extra homes to the homeless?

Breath-of-the-Wild: Looks like you owe your brother-in-law once again. -Original Poster: Oh heaven, yeah I know, guess I should probably do something nice for him. Uhh. Guess I could send him a pre-wedding gift? --Breath-of-the-Wild: He’s getting married? ---Original Poster: Yeah, he’s marrying the second son of another influential family. They hit it off in secondary school. ----Breath-of-the-Wild: Awesome, yeah dude, send them a gift! -----Original Poster: Now I only got to think what. Hmm, maybe some Emperor’s Smile. He likes that wine, but his fiancee doesn’t drink. (Click Here to Continue Thread)

WAP: I never considered you the asshole, and I believe that you should rethink this decision with your wife. If you are as rich as I believe then she could be a hindrance to your future goals. Certainly there are better woman out there? -Original Poster: I’m not divorcing the love of my life. --WAP: Love and business cannot mix my boy. If your love for her overcomes your work, then your work will fail. There are people who probably rely on you more than your wife; you should think of them too. ---Original Poster: I don’t think you understand. I love my wife. I don’t want “better”. I want her. ----WAP: Are you sure? -----Original Poster: Of course I’m sure. ------WAP: Are you sure you’re sure? -------Original Poster: Why the hell are you so invested in my life? --------WAP: I had a son in an arranged marriage just like you, in which the arrangement was dissolved just like yours. He ended up marrying her and parts of his business started to fail rapidly, but he was too in love with her meekness to do anything about it. ---------Original Poster: Listen, I don’t know if your lying or telling the truth, but what happened to your son is not happening to me. My work is doing well. ----------WAP: If your cousin above is a member of the Golden Phoenix Order like he claims then you are likely a high ranking member of the Jin family. Their profits have sunk since the clan head axed some of the business’s partners. ----------Original Poster: You mean he axed the people who were laundering money from less fortunate people. Of course they were axed. I’d rather have less money than hurt innocent people! -----------WAP: Your business is sure to crumble. How can you stand by such childish thoughts? ------------Original Poster: Get the fuck off my post asshole.

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

Author’s Notes:

Another one done! Believe it or not, Jin Zixuan was a bit harder to write than Jiang Cheng, not because he’s hard to understand, but because there’s so little of him in the canon story I had to find a way to actually give this chapter substance.

Hmm, gimme ideas on who I should do next. Su She? Jin Zixun? Wen Chao or Wen Xu? The possibilities are endless, and I’m excited to try and come up with something new.

Read my Prompts and Other WIPs [Here]

[anoctoberpepper]

Fifa and Twisted Teas (Grant & Nick)

Grant’s in the middle of cooking a 9pm dinner when his phone screams to life. His, usually set-to-silent unless there’s an emergency, phone. He scrambles for it to see a call coming in hot from Nick. 

“What’s up?” Grant rushes to turn off the stove, and starts heading for his gear neatly hung under a sheet by the door. He’s panicked until he hears Nick’s raspy singing.

“Can I crash at your house tonight. You’re house tonight, you’re house toniiggghhhhtttt. tonighhhhtttt,” Nick’s been on an X-Ambassador kick, apparently. 

“Nicki, this is an emergency line,” Grant reminds. 

“You didn’t answer my text.” 

Grant pulls his phone away from his face and sees that exactly thirty seconds ago Nick texted those exact same song lyrics to him.

“It’s an emergency meeting of the queer committee minus Terry and the aces,” Nick says, as a ridiculous explanation. Grant doesn’t have it in him to explain again how wrong Nick is. Lark’s screwed his way across the city, and Terry still won’t call himself bisexual despite the high-school thing. Grant certainly doesn’t have the energy to go against the unstoppable force that Nick is when he wants to hang out. Grant looks at his pot of cooking perogies, the salad he made up. 

“Are you hungry?” Grant asks. He made enough for dinner and lunch the next day, he could easily feed Nick.

“Ah, hell yeah.” Nick pauses then asks, “is there peppermint in it?” “No” “Even more awesome. I’ll be up there in a sec.” 

Before Grant can even hang up his phone there’s a crack in the living room and the scent of sulfur and Christmas spices. 

“I have arrived!” Nick walks into Grant’s tiny kitchen triumphantly holding Twisted teas and an ancient copy of Left for Dead, two things Grant likes, but he’s less sure that Nick does. Apparently the guy is going with his default programing of doing whatever he thinks the other person wants to do. Years spent copying his dad and other boys until he was seamlessly one of them, then more years trying to remember which dad to follow fully wrecked his sense of himself. The guy doesn’t know who he is let alone what he likes. It kills Grant to see it. 

“What brings you to this side of hell?” Grant asks. He pulls an iron skillet from a cabinet and sets it on the stove to warm. Chops some onions. Of all the things his dad is good at, cooking is one of them, and he didn’t let Grant leave the house without knowing several solid recipes. 

Grant sees the flicker in Nick’s eyes, the momentary calculation of him trying to remember which timeline to live in, which person he wants to inhabit.

“Dads are fighting,” Nick says. 

“Damn,” Grant says, not for the first time. He puts the onions in possibly too much oil, makes a face then adds more oil. He’s not that good of a cook. 

Nick sets the teas on the counter, followed by the game. 

“Figured you wanted to do video game night,” Nick says. 

“Or we could go out,” Grant counters, harmlessly poking at other options. Things Nick might finally glom onto as his own. “See some music. I heard Force to Reckon With is playing downtown.” Nick had showed some passing interest in the band a few months ago. Nick goes into buffering mode at the suggestion. Grant stirs the onions.

“How about food and you get to pick the video game?” Grant negotiates himself down. 

“Games are good,” Nick says. It’s something.

“Go look through my X box,” Grant says, “I finally got holographic guitar hero. Thought you might like to play it sometime.” “Nah,” Nick says. “Why goof around when I can play the real thing.” “Because it’s fun,” Grant says, silently happy that Nick at least has that opinion in his pocket. Grant dabbled with guitar at the tail end of high school thinking it would subtly get someone’s attention. He still prefers guitar hero though. 

Nick wanders into the next room, and Grant hears his tv hum to life. He finishes with the onions, fries the pierogies, still doesn’t hear anything from the living room. He plates everything, considers adding an insulting spring of peppermint on top just to mess with Nick. Doesn’t.

When he gets to the living room, Nick is still scrolling through the games. There aren’t as many as Grant would like, he’s working on a senior-in-college shoestring budget, but there’s a good selection.

“Have you at least narrowed it down?” Grant asks. 

Nick flicks back and forth between Fifa and Halo. That’s something at least, Grant thinks. 

“How about fifa,” he compromises again, making choices he knows Nick can’t. 

Nick smiles wide, “love it.” Grant hands him a plate, nods back toward the ratty couch. “Fifa and Twisted Teas it is.”

[the-invisible-queer]

I had a dream that I was back in high school (note: I am almost 28 years old) and the Jonas Brothers were also there? They looked like they did in like 2007 and were all inexplicably in the same grade despite clearly being different ages and surely at least one already being a legal adult. Other than that though all the other kids in the dream were just my actual old high school classmates and everything was normal. Kevin was dating one of my old friends and was on the debate team, Joe was one of the many rumored fathers of this one pregnant girl’s baby (he denied responsibility but so did all the others, so jury’s still out I guess) and had detention for sleeping through math class, and Nick was my fellow theater kid but also wanted to try out for the basketball team like some kind of reverse Troy Bolton. The only other notable thing I remember was that at lunch someone started a convo about celebrity crushes and Nick started gushing about how hot and beautiful he thought Miley Cyrus was, which now that I’m awake is so funny??? 😭 Like that was the only thing my subconscious remembered about 2007 Nick Jonas when it was constructing the dream universe lmfao. Joe said his celeb crush was RYAN SEACREST of all people which was. A lot to unpack but I have to respect it bc like? Being into middle aged men AND potentially getting a girl pregnant in high school?? He said messy bi rights 💅🏽

Anyway that was wild lol. I very rarely dream about celebrities OR school so not sure wtf happened tonight but at least I had fun

Listen I'm not here to speculate celebrity sexualities because that's icky

But Joe is the most disaster bi bitch if I've ever seen one

I respect that as far as we know he's straight so I will not be discussing anything regarding his sexuality at this time

This is the same dude that joked about his brother's voice turning him on 😭 Fueling the Joick accusations for shits and giggles

So I can see him saying Ryan Seacrest half as a joke

Kevin dating someone on the debate team is cute lowkey

He probably goes to all their debates and helps them study or whatever the fuck they do to get ready for debates

Nick being a theater kid is the most on brand thing any of us have dreamt about him

He would have thrived if he went to school and joined a theater program

But him trying to play basketball at his short height of 5'6 - he was presumably shorter when he was 15

Idk about that 🤣

BUT HONESTLY a reverse Troy Bolton DCOM would hit

Give me the theater kid who just wants to be an athlete and their mom is the drama teacher

And their family are all performers and they're like "why do you want to play sports? Dance is athletic"

Give me the DRAMA

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

A weekend in Quantico | Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: You surprise Stiles and visit him in Quantico

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word count: 1.3k

-

After graduation, Stiles got accepted at the FBI National Academy - as he should. You were very proud of him and both happily cried together when he received his acceptance letter. He was finally going to put his investigating talents and heightened intelligence to good use.

It also meant being apart.

The first week was alright. You missed each other, but made sure to call every night.

The second week, Stiles started his program and fell asleep on the phone. He was tired from his new schedule and you couldn't blame him.

The fourth week, you started your senior year. It was lonely without Stiles. Thankfully, you had friends to sit with at lunch, but they kept talking about how cool it must be to have a boyfriend who was in college. Sadly, dating a college boy was one of those things that's only cool outside of the picture. When you're the one in the long-distance relationship, things are much less cool.

The sixth week, Stiles was calling you two times a week and you started showing up to school wearing one of his flannel button ups. It was soft and smelled like him.

The eleventh week, he told you he wouldn't make it to Thanksgiving because the buses were expensive and he had a lot of work on his hands and studying to do too. You were really bummed out by the change of plan, but understood that college came first. That night, you cried.

The twelfth week, a traitor, who you assumed was Scott, told Stiles how you really were doing - which wasn't too well - and a package showed up at your door coming from Quantico. You opened the box with a curious eyebrow and found one of Stiles' hoodies and a short but cute hand-written letter.

I'll be home for Christmas, the letter promised. Christmas was in six weeks. There was no way you would last six more weeks without seeing your boyfriend.

It was late afternoon when you arrived in Quantico. The crisp wind was filling through your jacket, causing goosebumps to raise on your arms. You should have worn something warmer. Perhaps a hat too? But it was too late for that.

Your bag was slung over your shoulder as you crossed the street and followed the indications on your phone that would lead you to the campus.

After getting lost three times, you finally made it to the building where Stiles had his last lesson of the day. You didn't dare go too close to the classrooms, scared someone would ask for your access card and kick you out.

Stiles saw you before you saw him. He was turning a corner, walking down the hallway to take the stairs and stopped in his tracks when he saw you, startled. ''What the hell.'' At first, he thought his vision was playing him tricks, but you looked back at him, confirming that he wasn't hallucinating.

You grinned, finally seeing him after weeks of being apart. ''Missed me?''

Instead of replying, Stiles closed the distance between you and him to pull you in an embrace, snaking his arms behind your shoulders as yours wrapped around him tightly. You felt him exhale in your hold, his face finding home in your neck and shoulder.

There was no better feeling than holding the one you love.

The hug was longer than it should have, being in the middle of a hallway, but neither of you cared that students were passing by.

''What are you doing here? Not that I'm not happy you're here, because I'm fucking ecstatic that you're here.'' Stiles smiled down at you, brushing your cheek with his thumb as if to check if you were really there. ''It's just that I suspected my dad would be visiting this weekend. Not you.''

Noah had called Stiles last night to check on him and casually ask about his weekend plans. Clearly, he had failed at not evoking suspicions from his son.

Stiles re-adjusted his book bag on his shoulder and you looked at him up and down, taking in his dress pants, white button up and tie. It was the mandatory dress code for the FBI Academy and, honestly, it wasn't unpleasant for the eyes. You weren't into men in uniforms, but he looked hot.

You glided your fingers along the hem of his tie. ''You are looking mighty fine, Agent Stilinski.''

''I'm not an agent yet. I'm just an intern,'' Stiles reminded you. ''But, I'll take the compliment.''

.

The two of you walked to his dorm, which he shared with someone named Vincent - who was currently at the library.

The bed on the left was made in a very Stiles fashion. The comforter was neatly pulled with his pillow on top, hiding the wrinkled sheets underneath. His desk was a complete mess. There were piles of textbooks and miscandelious papers and pens everywhere. You couldn't even see the wood of the desk.

Stiles dropped his bag on the floor, tired of carrying it all day. ''I'd love to give you a tour of the campus, but I have a lot of reading to do and I need to solve this new mock case for Monday. If you had given me a heads-up that you'd be visiting this weekend, I would've cleared my schedule a bit.'' His face was conflicted.

''If I told you, it wouldn't have been a surprise.''

''I know... But I don't want to confine you to my dorm all weekend because I have work to do.''

You had travelled all the way to Quantico and he felt bad for not making the weekend interesting, knowing how expensive plane tickets were.

''I don't care what we do. I just want to spend time with you.'' You snaked your arms behind Stiles' neck, your fingers brushing the bottom of his hair, and brought him down for a kiss. ''And, we can always kiss during study breaks.''

''Of course we will,'' Stiles said, refusing to break tradition.

Although you weren't in the same grade, you and Stiles would study together a lot. You'd go to his house after school and he would help you with maths - because maths is hard and he aced his exams last year. And, most importantly, you'd take study breaks - aka kissing breaks. They would sometimes last longer than intended, but neither of you complained.

''You know what? Let's go out for a pizza,'' Stiles suddenly decided, changing his mind about staying in. ''There's this Italian place just outside the campus that makes the most delicious pizza. Dad and I ate lunch there when he dropped me off.''

Getting pizza with Stiles was a classic activity. You went almost every Thursday since you started dating. Sometimes, Stiles' dad would even join in - if he didn't have too much work at the station.

''Are you sure?'' you asked.

Stiles nodded. ''Well, we gotta eat and I'm tired of the healthy food they have here. I want pizza.''

You sat on his bed, waiting as he changed out of his school uniform. As hot as he looked in his fancy clothes, you liked the familiarity of Stiles' flannels and hoodies.

He unclasped the tie from his shirt, shocking you. You gasped. ''It was fake?!''

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. ''Eh, yeah... I used to wear a real tie, but I'd feel stressed or anxious, the tight feeling around my neck was making the situation worse. But, don't tell anyone.''

Although there was nothing to be embarrassed about, you could tell by his voice that he was embarrassed. You were actually proud of him for finding a solution instead of being frustrated for the way his brain worked. Stiles had gone a long way with his anxiety. He no longer let it control him or stop him from living.

''Your secret is safe with me, babe,'' you promised.

[despressolattes]

Soooo, I was scrolling through Bakugou angst hashtag and I found that SOMEBODY 👀 wanted some requests... So here I am :3 💖💖 I couldn't find rules sooo sorry if I break one, also if it's too much characters, just choose from them 💖 Can I get Bakugou, Hawks and Denki if they cheated? 💖 Some scenarios about them cheating and their s/o finding out and breaking up with them? And make it really sad? 💖💖 Thank you :3 💖 Make sure to drink enough water and get enough rest 💖 Have a great day 💖

CHARACTERS: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

a/n: sorry, i just started watching the show last week and have yet to get to see hawks! i also feel like i haven’t seen enough of kaminari to write about him, so for now, this will just be bakugou! once i see more of those two i’ll write one for them!

WARNINGS: cheating, angst

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

DON’T GO DESTROYING PEOPLE’S PERSPECTIVES ON LOVE; katsuki bakugou

You had known Katsuki Bakugou for as long as you could remember. The two of you went to the same grade school, and then the same junior high. Despite not being friends with the explosive boy:—quirk and temper wise—at that age, you watched him grow from the sidelines. You watched as Izuku Midoriya went from one of his childhood friends/admirers to someone Bakugou couldn’t stand the sight of.

You watched as his inflated ego burned the dedication of beating anyone and everyone into him.

You watched.

It was when he found out that you were applying to U.A high for the Hero Program that he started to pay attention to you. Your quirk had been the opposite of his: you could manipulate water in any of its three forms.

He paid attention to how you racked up points at the Battle Trials, he paid attention to you when you ended up in Mr. Aisawa’s class together and had to go through the weird first-day of school quirk assessment tests together.

He paid attention.

And watching and paying attention slowly became asking one another to spar together, sparing together turned into talking, talking turned into walking to class together, and walking to class together turned into hanging out at each other’s house’s to do school work.

And THAT turned into the development of feelings. From Kirishima noticing that you two were always together at school and asking Bakugou about it just a tad bit too loud, piquing the interest of your fellow classmates. Mina then wanted to know everything about what was going on, and Ochako insisted that she was there for you if you ever wanted to talk.

Todoroki, who seemed like he somewhat possessed both yours and Bakugou’s quirks, just in the form of ice and fire, nonchalantly added that he saw you two together outside of school.

Oh how you and Bakugou both wanted to hit Mr. Half-n-Half for that subtle comment, said in his normal monotonous voice, acting like he had no care in the world.

“Yeah? And why the hell are you even looking at me and Y/N, huh, Icy-Hot?” Bakugou barks at him, and Todoroki merely looks away, acting uninterested in the conversation.

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

You suppose reminiscing on your U.A days together wasn’t the best decision to be making as you packed your bags. Standing at the foot of your bed—old bed—with your luggage on top, piling clothes into it, you had to gulp back tears that threatened to spill.

You heard the door to your apartment—old apartment—open, and you instantaneously tensed. You had hoped that you could get out of the apartment before Katsuki got home, but apparently nothing could go your way.

“Hey, Y/N?” you heard Bakugou’s voice call out from either the living room or kitchen, sounding a bit grumpy, which was his default tone anyways.

You stilled, not daring to say anything.

“She left a note? Silly woman?” you heard him mumble to himself, and you realized he was now looking at the farewell letter you had left on the coffee table. 

It almost broke your heart to hear him say silly woman. Bakugou’s vocabulary almost always consisted of insults and curse words, but he tended to substitute his normal vulgar language for something more tender if it was directed at you. Now, if he was speaking to Kirishima, he’d probably get called a shitty man.

Tears fells rapidly down your face, and you held your hand to your mouth to try to muffle any sobs.

“What the—” you heard Bakugou curse, and an explosion followed. You could already imagine the crumpled up letter in ashes and scorched.

“Like hell she thinks—”

His footsteps vibrated through the apartment, and you knew he was making his way towards the bedroom. Unsure if he knew you were home or not, you quickly manipulated the tears on your face to the door, freezing the lock.

As if that would do anything, you scoffed to yourself, really hating the fact that Bakugou could easily melt the ice or just blow up the entire door.

“Y/N?!” Bakugou’s voice was frantic when he realized you were home on the other side of the door. “You silly woman, open this damn door and talk to me!”

He wiggled on it a few times, pounding on it.

You didn’t answer, and frantically closed your luggage. You glanced around, seeing nothing else you needed. The rest of them could be repurchased if you were to just leave now.

You looked at the window, at the jump it would be to get to the floor from your fourth floor apartment. It was a good thing you were a hero trained for stunts like this.

“Goddamit,” Bakugou grumbled. “If you’re near the door, stand back, I’m blasting it to shreds.”

But you weren’t by the door, before you were jumping out of your old bedroom window with your suitcase in your arms and tears flying down your face. Bakugou ran to the window, watching as you ran down the street, not even stopping to look at him.

His eyes drooped, and he watched you go, replaying the words in your note over and over again.

“Katsuki,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve made my leave from the place we once shared together and called home. I suppose you’re out right now, with that girl. You know the one I’m talking about. The same one I saw you with last month while I was grocery shopping, and I brushed it off as a fan or civilian who had borrowed a few moments of your time. Then, it seemed as if you grew more distant from me. Always on your phone, always distracted, always with a guilty look behind your ruby eyes.

Then, I saw you with her a few more times, but again, I tried to push the image of you to the back of my head because who said you can’t make new friends?

The image I couldn’t push to the back of my head was the image I had yesterday, walking into the apartment around noon to surprise you with lunch on your day off. You had expected I’d be out all day, and there you were, asleep on our bed with a woman who was not me, letting her sleep on my side and letting her cuddle up to the man who was mine. Mine since high school. Mine since the days when he was intolerable to most of our classmates, but I saw through his angry demeanor and tried to pour and push and shove as much love into his sorry personality as I could.

And all of our friends had thought I had done a good job. I guess I didn’t do as good a job as I thought.

But how dare you? I’m not saying that I deserve to be loved back all because I loved you, but I did deserve more than being half-loved. I deserved more than being loved just enough to not want to leave, but seeing someone else on the side. I deserved more than this deception and betrayal.

If my best was no longer good enough for you, you should’ve told me instead of allowing another person in our home.

Don’t go destroying other people’s perception of love just because you no longer feel any for them. I wish you had just broken up with me instead.

So, I’m the one that’s leaving, and like you, I’m offering you no chance to talk about it. Just like you gave me no chance of talking about what to do with our relationship when you began falling out of love with me.

I think I might always love you, Katsuki,

But today, I am going to do what you couldn’t, and love me more.”

[fridayfirefly]

The Power of Luck [Chapter One]

Read The Power of Luck on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [The Power of Luck Series]

Written for Maribat March Day 6 - Miraculous Side Effects

The Ladybug Miraculous had quite a few side effects. Marinette was able to think quick on her feet, she was a skilled tactician in battle, and her reaction time was half that of a normal human. Most notably, the Ladybug Miraculous granted its user the force known as Miraculous Luck, which, depending on the situation, was sometimes more of a curse than a blessing. Marinette didn't get to choose how that good luck manifested. For instance, when she needed an extra day to finish a history project, her school closed down due to a gas leak. Or when she wished for a fresh start after the defeat of Hawkmoth, her parents were offered a deal to grow their bakery business in America.

Marinette assured her parents that she didn't mind moving. After all, most of her class had already moved on. Lila had been deported to Italy, narrowly avoiding jail time. Chloé (much to her dismay) was sent by her father to an all-girls boarding school in England. Adrien was taken in by his Aunt Amelie (as Gabriel was in jail and Emilie was declared brain-dead) and moved to England as well.

No one else from Marinette's class left the country, but many of them moved out of Paris. Nathanial was accepted to an elite art school in Marseille. Max was accepted to a gifted program at an elite school in Bordeaux. Officer Raincomprix was transferred to Toulouse and took Sabrina with him. Juleka and Luka both started homeschooling after their mother sailed the houseboat down the Seine to the city of Rouen.

Worst of all was the loss of Alya. Her parents were horrified that the son of Hawkmoth was in the same class as their daughter, and promptly pulled Alya out of class and decided to move out of the city. Alya begged them for weeks but nothing came of her protests. In the end, Alya left too.

The Miraculous Luck could do a lot of things, but it couldn't keep her friends together. Those who remained at François Dupont filled holes in other classes. Marinette tried to make the best of her new class, but she felt no real connection to them. When her parents proposed the move, Marinette jumped on the opportunity. In Gotham, she wouldn't be haunted by the ghost of her old life.

Marinette cut her hair, leaving it choppy and just above the shoulders. She donated all of her brightly colored clothes to the thrift store down the street and created a new wardrobe for herself. It was toned down and mature, much more fitting for Gotham.

Marinette left Paris a much different girl than the naive fourteen-year-old who thought she could save the world. She was ready for a city like Gotham, a city that didn't make any promises, a city where Marinette could set down some new roots.

-----

At first, it was easy to fly under the radar at Gotham Academy. It was a school filled with the self-absorbed children of millionaires and billionaires, after all. Marinette was there on scholarship - her good grades, leadership experience, and working-class parents combined to cut her tuition down by 75%. Marinette quickly learned that scholarship students were at best ignored, and at worst mercilessly bullied. So Marinette kept her head down and vowed that she would get through the year unscathed.

There was one variable, however, that the Miraculous Luck wasn't able to account for. Marinette's entire plan fell apart thanks to one boy: Damian Wayne.

Marinette became acquainted with Damian Wayne through the school's rumor mill. She learned that he was one of the most wealthy and most attractive people in the school, but he was thought himself too good to spend time with any of his fellow classmates (Marinette couldn't fault him on the last bit; she also found the students at Gotham Academy to be difficult, to say the least). Marinette also learned through the school's rumor mill that Damian spent quite a lot of time staring at her. Given that Damian had never paid the slightest amount of attention to a Gotham Academy girl before, this was a big deal. Suddenly Marinette was the farthest thing from under the radar. Everyone who used to look down on her wanted to be her friend. It was exhausting.

Marinette resolved to ignore Damian Wayne - an easy task, given that she still didn't even know what he looked like. Now that everyone was staring at her, it was hard to

"Why?" grumbled Marinette. "Why couldn't my so-called Miraculous Luck help me get through one normal year of school?"

Tikki shrugged from her spot inside of Marinette's backpack. "Maybe all of this attention will turn out to be a good thing?"

"I doubt that." Marinette glanced around, checking that no one had spotted her talking to her backpack. There was one spot in the cafeteria that was hidden from view, a window-sill nestled behind a pillar, bordered by a wall on one side and an out of order vending machine on the other. Marinette sat on the window-sill every day to eat lunch, with Tikki as her companion for the meal.

"I think your problem is that you're overthinking this. Miraculous Luck always works out in the end, even if there are some obstacles in the middle."

"I just want this horrible school year to be over," sighed Marinette, setting her head down in her arms.

"Don't give up yet, Marinette. I have high hopes for this school year," said Tikki.

Marinette had some serious doubts but picked her head up anyway. Maybe this year wouldn't turn out the way she expected. Marinette defeated Hawkmoth, the greatest villain Paris ever faced. She could survive a year of high school.

-----

Marinette was going to survive her senior year of high school. Damian Wayne on the other hand... Marinette still wasn't sure if she was going to let him survive the year, after everything he put her through.

"Excuse me?" a sickeningly sweet voice piped up from behind Marinette.

Marinette put on her best disinterested-face, took out one headphone, and turned around. "Yes?"

There were three girls standing behind her: a blonde, flanked on both sides by a brunette and a red-head. The blonde girl had a smile on her face but a devious look in her eyes. Marinette had long ago learned to spot manipulators, and this girl had it written all over her. "Are you Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

"Yes."

"My name is Julie Cooper. I was just wondering... Are you dating Damian Wayne?"

Marinette huffed in exasperation. "What do you think?"

Julie's eyes narrowed. "I just wanted to warn you. I mean, did you really think that Damian Wayne would seriously date a girl here on scholarship? You should break up with him before you get hurt."

"It was a rhetorical question. I'm not dating Damian Wayne. It's just a rumor."

Julie instantly perked up. "Oh, good! I was beginning to think that Damian had lost his mind. I mean, I'm sure you would be a nine or a ten at a public school, but at Gotham Academy, you're like a seven, maybe an eight on a good day. Most of the girls who go here are actually hot, not just," the girl waved her hand towards Marinette. "Above average."

Marinette wasn't sure if Julie meant for her to feel flattered or offended, but her words had the strange effect of making Marinette feel both all at once. "Um, thanks? I'm going to go now."

Julie's brunette friend suddenly paled as the girl started to tug on Julie's sleeve. "Um, Julie?" she whispered.

"What, Nora?" Julie's eyes widened as they fixed on something behind Marinette.

Marinette turned around to see what the cause of their concern was. Or rather, to see who the cause of their concern was. It was a boy, tall and scowling. "Are you done here, Cooper?"

Julia nodded, a nervous edge to her voice, "Bye, Marinette." She and her two friends hurried off, exchanging frantic whispers.

"What do you want?" asked Marinette with a sigh. She was tired of dealing with boys who were only interested in her because Damian Wayne was interested in her.

"I wished to apologize."

"For Julie? Did you put her up to this?"

The boy looked confused. "No, of course not. I meant that I wanted to apologize for everything, not just Julie Cooper."

"For everything?" The truth suddenly dawned on Marinette. "You're Damian Wayne! I didn't think that you would be so tall."

"You didn't know what I looked like?" There was real shock in his voice.

"Well, by the time I learned that you had been staring at me everyone was staring at me, so that wasn't much help in figuring out who you were."

"You could have googled me."

Marinette shrugged. "I could have, but it felt weird to google one of my classmates. I pretty much just resigned myself to never figuring out who you were."

"I should have approached you sooner. I've wanted to apologize for a while, but every time I've caught you alone you've looked like you wanted to be left that way."

"I'm not a fan of most of the students here."

"The students here can be..." Damian searched for the appropriate word. "Tiresome. I resigned myself to a dull four years of high school in their company. That is, until I saw you."

Marinette cocked her head. "Why me, though? I'm nothing special."

"You're different than everyone else here."

Marinette stiffened. "I know. I've been told. I'm here on a scholarship which means I don't belong," she snapped

Damian shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. You move through life differently than all of the other students here. You don't care about the gossip or drama - at least, not until you were right at the center of it all. You've seen the real world, so you float above the high school drama. You're just so... so..."

"So what?" Marinette's tone softened.

Damian ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it. The addition of the messy hair added a certain charm to his otherwise polished exterior. "I've been brainstorming for the right word for weeks. The best I can come up with is pure. You don't let yourself become affected by anything in this school."

It was a very flattering description of her. It was also very on the nose. "I'll forgive you, Damian Wayne, but only on one condition."

"What?"

"I want to get to know you, and I have a feeling that you feel the same way."

Damian nodded. "It's a deal."

Maybe her Miraculous Luck wasn't so useless after all. Marinette had expected to go the whole year without making a single friend. Now, it seemed that she might make one after all.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Whatever Words Exist

StudentTeacher!Cal x Reader (Gender Neutral). Like mostly fluff. 

Reader and Calum have only met briefly. But when the connection is this magnetic, you don’t press fate. 

Masterlist (semi-hiatus) 

_____________________

Calum readjusts the strap on his backpack, getting the bag hitched back right on his shoulder. Just up the hill he can see a gathering of people, a general human mass but still too far away for him to make out any one person in particular. He knows he’s in the right place for sure. So he continues on and a few folks wave as he approaches. Derrick, former officemate, spots Calum first and waves him closer. 

“Meet Calum--old officemate of mine,” Derrick tells the group surrounding him. First years, Calum assumes and gives them a tiny smile and wave to the group. 

“Yeah, because this jerk decided to apply for a full time instructor position. And then got upgraded,” Calum laughs. 

“Look, gotta pay the bills how I can,” Derrick returns and then goes around the semi circle introducing everyone. 

Calum looks at each one in return and then his gaze lands on yours. As a first year to the program and student teaching, you ran into Calum during the intense two week training. Well, you two didn’t really run into each other. Calum ran a few sessions during the training and you might have purposefully lingered behind on the free range Q&A that he was a part of with a few other experienced student teachers. He seemed to be calm and level headed about all the teaching and you were quite the opposite, so listening to him answer questions gave you a small amount of peace. 

The second reason you lingered until everyone else was gone and asked their questions is because you thought he was attractive. The baggy t-shirt but nice fitting jeans and the way he titled in when he was listening to someone. He seemed to really care and take his time to answer any questions--even when he had other things he needed to attend to as well. “Hey,” he says as his smile brightens around your name. 

“Hi Calum,” you return. “Slumming it with us first years.”

“I would never call it slumming, not in the slightest,” he laughs in return. The conversation steers away from that, talking about the summer and general shared interests. But every so often you and Calum lock eyes, gazes lingering for way longer than you’d like to admit. Mostly because you don’t want to be this into someone so early into the semester. And truth be told, the semester hadn’t even truly started. 

About ten minutes pass before professors start to approach, a couple of them holding boxes of pizza. And while you definitely weren’t sure how to juggle all the responsibilities of teaching, classes, paying rent on time, you were grateful for the lunch of pizza. It also meant that you’d be taking some home if enough people didn’t go in for seconds. And getting a free meal plus an easy dinner was always worth it. 

As the pizzas are lined up, you linger back, not wanting to be the first person to get food, but close enough to the first brave souls. “So, have you done any exploring around town?” Calum asks from behind you. 

You spin to half face him to talk to him. “Not a lot. By the time we get done with training I’m too tired to do anything else. But I need to get my bike looked at, so I probably should get downtown at the very least.”

“What’s up with your bike? You said it was your main mode of transportation.”

“Just double checking tire pressure--nothing major. One of them feels like it’s not as high as the other. But rather be safe than sorry since the semester starts.”

Calum nods and shuffles up as the line moves. “If you need a ride to the shop, I have my car.”

You’re not sure if Calum’s offering just to be nice or if it means more. So you default to telling him he doesn’t have to, but he insists. And even as you’re grabbing a slice of pizza and Calum’s right behind you, you try to tell him that he shouldn’t completely disturb his whole day just for you. 

“I cannot have you blowing a tire on the side of the road. Do you have your bike with you today? We could go after this.”

If there were any way to die right in this moment, you’re wishing for it. “I do,” you answer cautiously, walking towards the metal picnic tables. “But really, I can do by myself. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh, c’mon, this town’s not necessarily the nicest to cyclists and if you got stranded I’d feel like an ass.” Calum settles across from you on the bench, slipping his backpack off his shoulder. You do the same, setting your backpack next you and pulling your water bottle from the side pocket. 

“I don’t know what your plans are. I don’t want to intrude,” you counter, unscrewing the top to your water bottle to take a sip. 

“My plans were to sit in my office and pretend like I was lesson planning.”

“Where’s your office again?”

Calum rattles off the name of the building, before taking his first bite of pizza. And you swear for a moment the universe is fucking with you. It has it out for you. “I’m in the same building,” you state. 

“I’m in room 138.”

Oh, how cruel is the universe. How fucking cruel could it be. “Same,” you state after finishing your bite of pizza. “Haven’t been inside to see it yet though.”

“Oh, it sounds like I’m your personal tour guide today.” And it’s not that he’s being adamant about it. Because you know if you were in the reverse positions, you’d do something similar. But a glint crosses his eyes, his smile is a slight curl of his lips and he’s looking up at you from underneath his lashes. 

Your stomach flutters, and suddenly pizza looks and feels like lead, but you take another bite to do something other than let panic settle. A quiet settles between the two of you as you eat. Though more people are turning up and settling in around you to make up for the silence. A few more minutes pass, even with you tossing away your plate and saying hi to some other people who are also teaching for the first time this year before you hear the professors calling for the group’s attention.

As the group quiets down, you return back to the spot where your bag is and Calum’s still there, laughing at something Derrick is saying. You catch his gaze and you really only think that you should look away. But you do. He’s too fucking handsome not to keep your gaze lingering for a moment longer. The humorous smile changes, becomes more subtle as the two of you continue to gaze at each other. 

You can feel your cheeks getting hot but slowly feel your own smile over taking your face before you cast your gaze down and then flick it back up to who’s speaking. It’s good information to get, as you listen to each professor in turn talk about the program more. You get a good sense of who each person is, and it’s not too much longer before each of the new and old cohort introduces themself. 

It’s a natural break as everyone starts to talk again with the business now out of the way. You mingle with some of the instructors but gravitate towards the snacks that are available. Just as you get a good grasp on one of the oreos, your name is called out. You spin, making sure to keep the Oreos in a tight hold. Calum waves you over to the group he’s in and you walk over. You know you shouldn’t. You know you’re playing with fire. But you do so anyway and he introduces you to some other people in the same year as him. They weren’t at the student teacher training. 

You’re thankful for the introduction but slowly the conversation drifts to the group joking about something that you seem to be missing and you know almost without thinking that Calum’s going to seize this opportunity. You turn to him first. “I like the vibe of this program,” you start. 

He smiles. “I’m glad. It’s all pretty tight knit.” You nod, agreeing with this point, but also not sure if you’re reading the air between you and him correctly either. “Do you wanna duck out now?” he asks quietly. “Get that bike fixed up for the first day of classes.”

“Ye-yeah, that’s cool.”

He nods over to where your belongings are with a smile. And the two of you gather your things. As you lead Calum over to where you locked up your bike you pause. “Wait,” you start, “do you even have a place to strap a bike down?”

“My friends and I bike the trails a lot during the year. My SUV can handle it, I promise,” he returns with a laugh. The two of you walk side by side down the parking lot. “Where do you call home?” he asks. 

You rattle off the answer and in return ask him the same. “Well home home is Australia. But I came to the states with some mates and we’ve sort of always called California a second home.”

“You beat me the longest distance from home,” you laugh. 

“Well, only on a technicality.”

“So like your mom, dad, and siblings--if you have any--are like clear across the world?”

“Mum and Dad are. Sister’s in London.”

“Is she studying too?”

“Singer--she’s over there doing that.”

You hum. “Is singing a family trait?”

Calum laughs and you watch some lights blink from a car and you spy the keys in his hand. “I wouldn’t call it a family trait. But yeah, we all sing. In our own ways. Originally made some moves for music. Career paths changed just a tiny bit.”

“So you and the friends you moved with were in a band?”

“Of sorts. Went well for a while. Then we just needed rest.”

“So your idea of rest is going to school and teaching?” You laugh. Calum opens the trunk first for your bags. And when he closes it, you finally spot the rack to set your bike on. 

“Like I said, career paths took a turn. Rest or new experience--I’ve yet to decide on the name yet.”

With the bike settled and secure, you walk around to the passenger side door. Calum’s quick to turn the air on in the car once he’s inside. His radio starts up immediately and he scrambles to turn it down. “Sorry, don’t wanna blast you out of the car,” he states. 

“No, no worries.”

“Any requests? You can plug your phone in too, if you want.”

“Oh God, I take over the aux and you’re going to get some anime theme song and I’d rather save myself the embarrassment.”

Calum’s chuckle is quick and clear of the click of the seatbelts. He switches over the radio and hands you the white cord. “Now you have to embarrass yourself.”

“That’s what I get for opening my big mouth.” Plugging the cord in, you shuffle for a decent opening song as the truck starts backwards out of the parking spot. 

“So what about you? How did the universe drop you here?”

“Pure determination and spite,” you laugh as the song starts over the speakers. “I finished my undergrad, worked for a couple years and then promptly said this is not what I want to do forever and started looking to go back to school.”

“Pure determination and spite,” Calum repeats. He keeps his attention heavily on the road as he’s driving out of the park and through the neighborhoods. But once he hits a stretch of main road he can glance over to you. And you’re staring out of the front windshield, head slightly tilted. “You look lost in thought?”

“Just admiring the view.”

And Calum hums, a sound of agreement, but the view he’s enjoying isn’t the sight of campus and the surrounding area. The two of you continue on, weaving around some traffic and soon you’re turning down a side street. One that reminds you almost of home. And maybe that’s just the universality of it all. Almost anything could be home if you wanted it to be, because there was always going to be a piece of a place that you could connect too. 

“The guys here are nice and really quick about anything that’s a simple fix,” Calum offers. “Also, your music isn’t that bad.”

Your jaw drops just a little and a small squawk of indignation falls from your lips. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, jumping out of the car. Calum’s already at the back, pulling your bike from the secure rack. 

“It means that having an anime theme song play would’ve made it ten times better.”

You huff, but follow behind him into the shop. The two of you greeted almost immediately and when the guy working on the floor spies the bike, he’s quick to walk over and see what the issue is. You explain that you’ve noticed a difference in tire pressure. In your move your gauge got misplaced and you hadn’t quite yet had time to get someone to look at it until now. 

“Yeah, we can check that for you. No problem. So any other plans for today?” he asks, making small talk. You talk briefly about the weather, though there’s not quite a lot to talk about it. Not too long later, the guy’s able to confirm that one of tires did have something puncturing it and letting out some air. But he’s quick to let you know that they can fix it in just a few minutes if the two of you have it. 

“I’d greatly appreciate it,” you start and then look at Calum, who just shrugs. “Yeah, can you fix it?”

“Sure can. Just give me a few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

You watch Calum browse, trying not to linger on the way his back moves underneath the t-shirt as he reaches up for something along the walls. And it’s like asking to get into trouble. Though there’s nothing wrong with instructors dating. You just had a plan, that's all.The first semester you’d get settled, figure out what this whole student teaching life was all about. And the more you watched Calum, the more you were sure that plan was going to fall apart. 

“Here she is, all fixed up.” You look up from your spot, in the store, having migrated to the opposite end of the door and walk over to the man with your bike. “Just a little puncture. Nothing too bad.” He rattles off the costs and it’s more than you anticipated, but not so much more that you have complaints.

Calum’s quick to take over the bike and walk it back outside, smiling as you hold the door open for him. “Thanks.”

“No, thanks to you. For chauffeuring me around.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he returns, getting the bike back onto the rack. “Did you want to explore some nearby shops?”

“Oh, hmm. Maybe later. I haven’t an ounce of lesson plans just yet. So I think I should maybe get my week 2 planned.”

“Well it sounds like you have something of week one planned,” Calum counters. 

“We were forced. Thanks to orientation.”

He laughs. “Yeah, they wanted you to have that down at least.”

In the brief glance around, as you try to tell yourself, you shouldn’t explore, you spy a little coffee shop. It looks intriguing. And you point out the sign. “Have you ever tried them?”

“Yeah--it’s a really good shop.”

You take a small step towards the building, careful though because you’re still in the parking lot and about to head into the street. “Can I tack on just a tiny bit of exploring and grab a cup?”

“Of course.”

“Recommend anything?”

Calum holds the door open as he speaks. “Chai Latte, but you can’t tell anyone that it was me that recommended it.”

“Your secret it safe with me.”

In line, you try not to think about how close Calum is, as he stands behind you. But you can feel him, or maybe you want to feel it, you’re aware of him that it’s like all you’d have to do is fake a clumsy step back to be resting into his chest. You imagine it to be firm, but somehow cozy. And maybe that’s just the worn t-shirt he’s adorned in and the beanie on his head. But his presence feels soft to you. 

Your daydream doesn’t last long as the line shuffles forward and you take the step forward rather than the step backward. The coffee shop is quaint, the wide windows letting in plenty of sunlight. But the tables are dark brown and look worn from your place in line. It feels lived in and you enjoy that even though the outside was painted a hunter green, the inside is a pretty beige accented by the chocolate wood of the tables. 

“It’s like a dream,” you state in a whisper, taking in the lights in the ceiling and the scattered bodies of students with backpacks at their feet and others whom you assume live in town and are most likely trying to enjoy the last bits of quiet before the rest of the students descend onto the campus and town. 

In all your sight exploration, your order is called up and Calum has to get it for you. He smiles though, watching the wonder that fills your eyes. “The offer’s still on the table,” he states, handing over the correct cup t you. “We can explore.”

“Can we raincheck? What does next weekend look like for you?”

He still hadn’t responded to Ashton about the hike. So he doesn’t really have plans. “Free as a bird.”

“Would it be okay? To wait till then?”

“Of course,” he exhales. “I’m not the one still learning with training wheels of teaching. I can do this in my sleep.”

“Oh, so big and tough,” you joke, but head back to the front door. The two of you break back out into the bright sun and it’s warm on your skin. “Just give me a semester. I’ll be able to knock you down a peg.”

And Calum doesn’t doubt that for a second. Not with the way you talked about getting into the program. Inside the truck, you’re handed the aux yet again and this time don’t think twice about plugging it in. “To our office?” he asks. 

“You’re not even going to be doing anything for real.”

“I like the sense of productivity.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you laugh. The drive back to the campus isn’t as long as you thought it would be. But somehow it comes all too quickly. You’re still not sure what’s happening between you and Calum. It’s easy, natural between the two of you. But your plan--you know it’s all going down the drain. All his jokes make you laugh, and you know one or two shouldn’t. And when you do laugh, Calum turns sheepish. He goes quiet, a tiny smile quivering at his lips. 

Calum parks in the employee parking lot in front of the building with your office. Both of you climb out at the same time. And with backpacks, coffee, keys and phones all in place you two trek up to the door. “I think it’s only three of us in the office this year,” Calum talks, fishing out the right key on the hook. 

“Only three?”

“This used to be an old dorm building. So they can usually stick four of us into the room. But the email we got about office assignments only had three names. There was a fourth, but I don’t know what happened to them. They were in a different English program than us. And I don’t know if they graduated or not.”

“Ah,” you return, stepping through the door behind him. And it doesn’t remind you too much of a dorm, not in the always at least. But when Calum unlocks the door, you can see where it definitely once was an older dorm building thanks to the sink in the corner. “You weren’t kidding, huh?’

“About it being an old dorm? Not in the slightest.” He drops his backpack into the desk on the left side of the room but closest to the window. A couple pictures decorate the desktop. The desk next to him as a blanket and the whiteboard above it, has something written on it. So you assume it’s the third person. The desk on the right, closest to the door has nothing on it. The one closest to the window, across from Calum is also empty. 

You walk into the room some more and Calum pulls out his laptop from his bag and then steps around you. “As a heads up, the door stays locked. So you’ll need your key if you go out and close the door. I got locked out once or maybe twice. And it’s definitely not fun.”

You nod. “Thanks for the heads up.”

He smiles and then slips out of the door and you study the empty desk. It’s stupid, trivial to take the one across from Calum, but you drop your backpack into the office chair. The next time you come, you’ll bring desk decorations. To claim which one is yours. Because right now in the depths of your backpack you don’t have much. Well you do have a book that you don’t really need to keep up with too much. Maybe you can leave that. 

Exhaling, you get mostly settled and just before you can get your laptop out of the sleeve the door opens to Calum walking through again. The beanie’s now in his hands as he strides across the room and you can’t help but stare at the curls falling from his head. You want to curse him for looking so good. But you force yourself to go back to your screen. 

Calum settles back into his chair and watches you, sitting up straighter than he’s ever seen a person sit. And he wishes he wasn’t so chicken shit about it. You fucking asked him to hang out next weekend. But still, it’s like toying the line. Trying to make sure he’s reading the cues right. Maybe not right now, maybe next weekend he can get a better read, make a move. He turns back to his own laptop and finds the syllabus he made from the last semester. He can still use most of it. Though in the spring they had a break and in the fall, now they don’t. So he can delete that week as no class and actually have time for the group project in class that the department requires for them to teach. 

A couple hours go by, silence between the two of you, but the clacking of keys makes a chorus around the room. Calum pauses every so often to look over his shoulder. Sometimes you’re deep into work, pushed up into the seat. And once or twice, he found you slouched, staring out at the window next to both of you. 

Another hour passes and shuffling ensues behind Calum. He looks over and finds you packing up. “Headed home?”

You nod. “Managed to get the first unit mostly planned. We’ll see how it goes.”

He smiles. “I’m sure it’ll go well.” He goes to turn around and then remembers your bike is still attached to the back of his car. “Oh, let me go with you to get your bike,” he says ,shooting up from his chair. It rolls backwards for a split second but then makes a sudden stop. 

“Oof,” you let out, rubbing at your stomach. 

“Oh my god,” he rushes out, stepping in closer. “I’m so sorry. Had no clue you were that close. You okay?”

“Yeah,” you laugh and then look up. And Calum’s eyes are a deeper brown that you initially thought. Now that he's closer to you. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you exhale in a breath. 

“You sure? I think the Campus Health Services is open. Or you know, urgent care?”

“I don’t think you caused internal bleeding. Just caught me off guard.”

He finally brings his gaze up from where you’ve stopped holding your stomach to your eyes. And he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t let his gaze drop below your eyes, because truth be told he already stared too much at your lips during the entirety of orientation. And he already knows just how plump they are. 

It’s silent--almost uncomfortably so. “Can I--I should get your bike,” Calum says, saving himself from sure embarrassment. 

He steps around you and you stretch out, capturing his wrist in your hand. “No, what were you going to ask?” you ask. The question leaves you without much thought and you know you shouldn’t ask. But you just can’t help it. Because you almost stretched up to kiss him. 

“It’s nothing,” he returns. But he doesn’t pull his wrist away. 

“Is it really nothing?”

Calum feels you step in closer. He inhales and lets it slowly. He shouldn’t. He absolutely should not let the question cross his lips. But he turn, and sees you illuminated by the sun from the windows and god, how can he deny an angel standing in front of him. “I was going to ask if I could ask you a question.” And it’s not really what he was going to ask. But it buys him some time. 

“You can ask me.”

“Do you--is this--,” he exhales, for a moment hating that the words are getting caught in his throat. “I don’t know if you’re feeling the same thing I am. But I-I’ve been interested in you, like from the second I saw you at the orientation. And I really, really don’t want to make a fool of myself. But I was hoping, are you interested? In me?”

There it goes--the plan--down the drain in just a few sentences. “If you’re asking if I thought you were attractive, yes. And if you’re asking if I care to see where this goes, the answer is also yes. But it really wasn’t supposed to go down like this.”

The elation covers his face and makes his cheeks push up as he smiles--so much so that the skin around his eyes crinkles. “I’ll gladly interrupt all your plans.”

You scoff at the sentiment, but feel your body heating up. Calum steps in even closer to you. His fingers find yours and thread them together. “So the real question I had was if I could kiss you? But I wasn’t sure if that was too forward.”

“Too forward a minute ago. But not too forward for right now,” you state, already moving in to kiss him. It’s short, longer than a peck, but not quite long enough. Because as you pull away, Calum’s other hand is cupping the back of your head and keeping you closer. His hold is firm but his lips are soft and you melt, knees buckling just for a moment. Thankfully, you manage to recover quickly. It doesn’t stop Calum from chuckling. 

“Are you telling me that I have that kind of effect on you?”

“Shut the fuck up, and kiss me again,” you state breathlessly. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. His lips capture yours again, happy to finally get a small taste of you. And you’re acutely aware that it must look ridiculous--you with your backpack full to the nines pressed up against Calum’s chest, chasing down his lips because his touch is mixing in with the scent of his cologne and all you know for sure is that it’s an intoxicating mixture that you want to be trapped in forever. 

You pull away, needing just a moment to catch your breath and Calum rests his forehead against yours. “Are you sure you want to leave me now?” he teases. 

“I--I’ll be honest. The reason why I was leaving was because I knew this was going to happen.”

“Oh? You knew?”

You laugh, cupping his jaw. “Calum, I know one thing for sure. You’re a dangerous man to be around.”

“Oh you’ve just met me. I should be offended.”

“Should be?” you question. 

“You’re--I don’t know what. But I knew that I wanted to know you. So whatever words that exist for that--that’s what you are.”

“I’m flattered,” you state softly. 

“If you give me 5, I can pack up my stuff and drop you off back at home. Now I’d be an asshole not to drop you off.”

You watch him, pulling back from the closeness. “I can make it home now that my bike’s fixed. Thanks to your insistence.”

“Well, let me insist one more time that I make sure you get home safely.” 

“Fine,” you resign. And he’s quick to pack up. Out in the hallway, he takes your hand, threading your fingers again. And it’s natural, easy between the two of you. You bump shoulders, laughing as you step out in the daylight. 

Inside his car, you slip back into the passenger seat. But when Calum settles into the driver seat and gets buckled in, he rests one hand on your thigh. Not too high up, nothing too suggestive, but not directly on your knee. You try not to let it fluster you, the ease at which he establishes touch, but your heart races just a little. 

You curl your fingers around his palm--it’s something to do with your hands, but also allows you a bit of control. You direct him easily back to your apartment. It’s nearly a straight shot, minus the one left turn needed and when he pulls up into a parking space in front of your building, he squeezes at your fingers just a little. 

You face him with a smile. “Thanks, for everything.”

“Yeah of course,” he returns. “So, next weekend? More exploring?”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll text you about the date and time for sure. Unless we meet again in the office.”

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you laugh gently stretching across the console. “I have a suspicion we shall meet again in the office.”

“Lovely,” he breathes and you meet his lips, capturing them gently before pulling away and grabbing all your things. Your bike is easy to get down and then you lock it back up on the rack outside, even though Calum does help. He leans up against the door and you spy him watching. 

“Enjoying the show?” you tease shaking your butt at him at the outside door of the building.  

His laughter rings out. “Making sure you get inside safely, actually. But a show is always welcomed.”

[1234-angelika]

Teacher, Teacher

an: this is the final post of the week and the first installment in the Happily Ever After series for Matt. I'm excited to share with y'all, this has been in the works for a while. Hope you enjoy!

words:1.2 k warnings:Divorce, custody battle,

summary: "The best things in life are unexpected-because there were no expectations." -Eli Khamarov

masterpost|taglist|have an idea

At 18, you thought that you wanted to practice law. So, you went ahead and started on that journey.

You got your bachelor's degree in English with a minor in psychology. After that, you went on to write the LSAT and scored 170. With that impressive score, you applied to multiple programs and decided on the path of getting your J.D. at Columbia Law School in New York with a focus on family law. It took you three years, and then you moved to Virginia. You applied to a prep class before taking the bar, and that's where you met Kristy. Although you were taking different paths, you became fast friends, keeping in contact throughout the years. You passed the bar on your first try. It was a lot of work, but to you, it was worth it.

After a few years of working in family law, you saw a really rough case. It was a custody dispute. The case had started off pretty straightforward and then spiralled at an impeccable speed. After that case, you decided to take a break. You resigned and went back to school instead of getting your Certified Childcare Professional credential. And then you opened up a day-care in your neighbourhood where childcare was scarce. It didn't take long for business to pick up and for you to be busy all the time. You had two co-workers who were a tremendous help with the workload and genuinely good people.

Being a day-care teacher was such a rewarding job, shaping your minds to wonder and question everything, but man, was it exhausting.

To start your day, you slept in past your alarm. Way past, like 40 minutes, your busy week must have caught up to you. You had called your co-workers as soon as you woke up to apologize for being late and to tell them that they would have to start the day without you. You hopped in the shower and got ready for the day, not even grabbing a snack before rushing out the door. You headed to the nearest drive-through for a hot coffee and something to eat. The drive-through line was long, which didn't help your stress about the fact you were late. The only thing that made the lousy morning a little bit better was the fact it was Friday.

The sunshine provided the opportunity for a lot of outdoor exploration and independent play. We spent the morning doing math and science—which was really nature exploration—before going back in for a snack. After snack time, we went back outside for art which was drawing with chalk and water-colour painting. After lunch, we focused primarily on the idea of independent play.

For having such an abrupt start to your day, the rest of your workday seemed to pass quite slowly. By 4, almost all children had been picked up, your co-workers had left—all the children except the Simmons kids. From what you understood—from the small amount Kristy had told you—reminding you of your previous career. She and her husband were going through a divorce with an ugly custody battle happening. To add to that, apparently, their dad worked an insane job with unpredictable hours.

Today was the first day he was supposed to pick them up since the split. Kristy had warned you that he probably wouldn't be on time. So, you had prepared. You had snacks and drinks and a movie playing on the screen. You were working away at the paperwork, and the boys were playing on the carpet while Beauty and the Beast was streaming on the screen. By the time that movie had finished, you finished all the paperwork you had to do, and the boys became tired of playing on the floor, deciding to just focus on the movie instead.

Standing up, you said, "Alright, before we watch another movie, let's clean up our toys."

They were pretty quick in getting up and cleaning up their toys. When all the toys were put away, markers were cleaned up, and paper neatly stacked where it was supposed to be, you got ready for the next movie. Bean bag chairs were brought to the carpet while the boys grabbed some snacks and juice boxes.

"Get comfy!" You said with a smile as the boys ran to the bean bags. Each picking their favourite colour. "Now, what movie are we watching now?"

"Up!" David said, and you looked at Jake before putting it on. He nodded so, you went ahead with the movie.

About halfway into the movie, you heard a multitude of footsteps coming down the hallway, accompanied by voices. As quiet as possible so as not to disturb the boys, you got up from your bean bag and walked to the door to see what the noise was. If it was an intruder, you wanted to at least try and protect the kids. When you got to the door, you swung it open. There stood a tall, model-like man with his hand raised, ready to knock on the door. Beside him, two darling little girls who were absolutely adorable and very obviously twins.

"Hello, can I help you sir?" You asked the man, using your body to block the doorway as best you could.

"I'm Matthew Simmons—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the two boys ran into his legs shouting;

"Daddy!"

You nodded to yourself in understanding. Once each of the boys latched onto a leg, he continued, "—and I'm here to pick up my sons."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N Y/L/N, their school teacher."

You lead him into the room.

"So Y/N, is there anything I need to do before I can take the boys home?"

"Matthew—"

"Please call me Matt,"

"—Matt, I need you to sign the sheet on my desk and the book by the door and then you can go."

Matt went over to your desk, signed the paper and, walked back over to the door and signed the book. Then he walked into the cubby area, kids trailing behind. You walked over and helped him pack his sons' things, he packed Jake's bag, and you packed David's. After the boys had put on their coats and outside shoes, you handed David his backpack. He swung it on, and Jake did the same.

As they walked out, Matt stopped in the doorway. Turning to look at you, he said;

"Bye Miss Y/L/N. See you Monday." And with a wink, he turned and walked away.

You stared after him, and then, you understood why Kristy never introduced you to her soon-to-be ex-husband. That dazzling smile and flirtatious demeanour were heart-stopping.

[iconic-ponytail]

there's always money in the banana stand

riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business

Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.

She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.

Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.

Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”

Enter: the banana stand.

It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.

Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”

But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.

It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.

Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.

He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.

Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.

(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)

His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.

“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”

Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”

They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.

“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”

Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”

Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”

Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”

Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.

He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.

He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”

Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.

Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”

Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).

“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”

Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”

Betty grins.

I did that.

“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”

Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”

The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”

He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.

“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”

She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”

Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.

“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.

Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”

Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.

“Do you have a pencil?”

He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)

After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—

“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”

The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”

Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.

“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”

Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.

“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”

Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.

Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”

She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”

She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.

“Betty, wait.”

She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.

“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”

Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”

They shake on it.

[jeonqukie]

PLAYING CUPID / 01.

SYNOPSIS / Consistently overshadowed by your older sister, you expect your days in high school to be filled with plastic smiles and apathetic peers with hidden intentions. Everything changes when four of the most popular guys in school join you and your best friend for lunch on the first day of school.

FEATURING / Kim Namjoon; appearances by Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook.

GENRES & TAGS / high school au, freshman reader, senior namjoon, student council president namjoon, best friend jungkook, lots of fluff, and some angst.

WARNINGS / Graphic and mature language, slight age difference/gap (to clarify, oc is 14-15 yrs old and namjoon is 17 - first part is rated pg); list will be updated as fic is updated accordingly.

WORD COUNT / ~10.3k

NOTES / I am a day late in posting this and I want to let you guys know that this is... not edited at all and I will be looking through this every now and then to correct any errors. But I hope you enjoy the first part of this series! I wasn’t expecting this to be relatively long, but it was all to set up the characters dynamics and the history behind the reader and Namjoon’s relationship. Any feedback is appreciated. To repeat, I’m so sorry this was super late. Please expect part 2 to be up in ~2 weeks. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

All rights reserved © jeonqukie (formerly known as aiscka). All (or portions) of my work may not be reproduced, redistributed, reclaimed, translated, modified, or used in any way whatsoever without my permission.

“You’re Sena’s little sister, right?”

You’d be a damn millionaire if you made a dollar for every person on campus tried to break the ice with you. It was a severe understatement to say that your older sister was known around town. She was vice president of the student council, president of the debate club, and the best player on the varsity volleyball team. All of the teachers and faculty adored her, every girl wanted to be her, and every guy wanted to be with her.

For the longest time, you assumed your sister was a celebrity on campus.

You were so wrong.

It was because you never met him. You’ve heard his name so many times whenever your sister had sleepovers with her friends or when she was on the phone with a friend, whispering so softly into the receiver, afraid that someone would find out about that she had a crush on him. You were perplexed because you thought your sister was a very forward person; she had so much confidence talking to so many guys who desperately wanted her attention yet somehow her palms would sweat over him.

“Hey, you know who Kim Namjoon is?” You would sit at the cafeteria for the first time with your best friend, Jungkook, who had devoured half of his ham and cheese croissant sandwich. He looks at you and he would raise one brow.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who’s obsessed with hyung.” But Jungkook sees the genuine confusion form on your face. You catch a glimpse of your older sister who sat on the other side of the cafeteria, thumbing a reply on her phone while her friend nudges at her when she sees the notorious posse that every girl swoons over.

It was a scene right out of a movie.

At that time, you had the faintest idea who they were, but you were quick to find out why they were so well known around campus. Jung Hoseok was the senior of the group; he was a dancer and was featured in numerous music videos by well-known artists and he had an extensive list of choreographers willing to work with him. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin were inseparable; they were juniors who ran the school newspaper and the school yearbook – Taehyung being in charge of the photography while Jimin being in charge of the organizing the yearbook staff. Meanwhile, there was Kim Namjoon; student council president, valedictorian of his class, member of the honor society and numerous organizations on campus.

“Wait, you know who Namjoon is?” You were curious whether Jungkook knew of him, not exactly knowing the guy.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s been my next-door neighbor for god knows how long. His folks and mine go out for golfing twice a month.” You just nod to his answer when you are shoving a chocolate moon pie into your mouth.

But your mouth instantly goes dry when the four guys appear right across from you and Jungkook are seated.

“Gukie!” Hoseok exclaimed at the sight of Jungkook still devouring his croissant. “Look at you! Finally, you’re with the hyungs in high school.” The tease made Jungkook’s ears go pink and you feel your own face get hot; not because of second hand embarrassment, but because you can see everyone’s eyes on you – the two freshmen who had no right to be sharing a table with, what you can only assume, the four most popular guys on campus.

There were many times where people would only want to get to know you because of your sister; girls wanted to get close to you because you were had a cool older sister and boys wanted to be with you because they were so eager to come over to your place and obsess over Sena.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had no interest in her. As a matter of fact, you met Jungkook when you were in middle school and took a swimming class and later found out that you two were in the same class and bonded over your competitive nature in swim class.

“Who’s this? You got a girlfriend on your first day already?” You and Jungkook exchange a look of disgust with each other and create a sensible amount of space for each other to establish that you both see each other as friends.

“Oh my god, wait – you’re Sena’s little sister, right?” Hoseok corrected Jimin who had made the assumption you and Jungkook were an item. Jungkook can see the way you scrunch your nose from his periphery, and he decides to answer for you instead.

“This is YN. She’s… literally been my best friend since middle school.” Jungkook introduces you to the four people right across from you. “YN, this is Hoseok – well, I call him Hobi-hyung. This is Jimin-hyung and Tae-hyung. I’m pretty sure you know Namjoon-hyung because –”

“ – school council president.” You interrupt because you didn’t want Jungkook to reveal that you had been inquiring about him earlier. “I remember because you made that welcome speech this morning at the assembly.”

Namjoon is rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment and you resume eating your packed lunch, despite losing all appetite because you are surrounded by so many people did not know. They weren’t terrible people, but you weren’t mentally prepared for such strong personalities and dynamics to be introduced all at once. You felt like an intruder – a fly on the wall – because everyone carried on with their normal conversations; Jungkook and Hoseok were talking about plans for the weekend and then Jimin and Taehyung were already drafting out ideas for the yearbook. Meanwhile, you sat in silence as you ate your tuna salad sandwich, reading a new book you were gifted over the summer by your parents.

“Let me know when you’re done.” A voice catches your attention, and you stop all chewing. “The book, I mean.” Namjoon clarifies and he sees that you are already halfway done with it. “I read it a year ago and I’d like to hear what you think of it.” He offers you a heartwarming smile and you nod once, returning the same grin.

“I started it a week ago. I really like it so far.” The conversation is light and drowned out by the loud voices beside you.

You never really pinned him as a reader.

“So, how’s your first day so far?” He inquires and you honestly thought that the conversation was… over. Normally, that’s how all the conversations go when people find out your Sena’s little sister. They feign their interest in you and instantaneously ask about her.

“It’s… nothing special.” You admit, smoothing your fingers on the pages of the book. “Most of the classes I have before lunch, Guk’s with me. Now –”

“Now, her large, wrinkled brain is going to abandon me and get into those advanced program and honors classes.” You are rolling your eyes at your best friend who whines that you decided not to take the same classes as him.

“We literally have homeroom, social studies, and PE together and then we see each other for breaks and lunch. I think you’ll live.” The group laughs which earns quite a bit of stares from outsiders, but they seem to be completely unfazed by it. Everyone turns back to their own conversations and, usually, your social presence isn’t necessarily sought out by people.

It wasn’t until you hear another inquiry fall out of Namjoon’s mouth.

“What do you have right after lunch?”

“Biology.”

“Honors biology, by the way. Can’t you spare just one regular class for me? Or does your GPA really matter that much to you?” Jungkook complains and you are left ignoring his comments.

If there was one thing that your older sister taught you (something you actually agree with) is that colleges love a good GPA and joining as many clubs as possible. You even remembered how she’d phrase it for you; college admissions officers will cream their pants when you score that 4.0 GPA and do something out of the box from the rest of your peers.

“Or just get smarter, Guk.” Hoseok poked fun at Jungkook, earning a shrug from Jungkook. Namjoon, on the other hand, is smiling from ear to ear at the dynamic between the elder and the youngest of the group.

“Let me see your schedule.” Namjoon urges as he spots your clear binder which has your printed schedule on the cover. You push over your binder to Namjoon who is scanning your binder; he reads through your name, your birth date, the list of teachers you had for the semester and the classes assigned to you.

You feel indifferent about the sudden attention on you, especially from Namjoon; a mere stranger who everyone obsessed over was so piqued by you. You observe the way the corner of his slips curve into an impressive smirk as he glances over at Hoseok.

“Guess who we have for calculus at the end of the day?” He slides over your binder where the rest of the group examine the rest of your schedule, only for Hoseok to find a coinciding class with you.

“How the fuck are you in a senior’s class? Are you some math whiz or something?” Taehyung’s eyes widen at the sight of an advanced calculus class on your schedule. It was one of the things you were proud of you; you were good at math – it happened to be Sena’s worst subject and your parents often joke what she lacked; you had gained immensely.

“Yeah, YN’s cracked, hyung. I don’t understand. I remember in middle school they had to make arrangements for her to get into a pre-caclulus class or some shit like that.” Jungkook finishes his fruit cup and gathers all of the trash on site to toss over to the closest garbage bin.

Namjoon is sliding your binder right back at you, brows raised at you with the same grin he had on. He stares at you for what seemed like a long time – to you, it seemed like a long time and he is glancing back down at where your fingers brush against each other and he pulls away, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable.

“I – um, saw that you were taking orchestra too.”

You nod and chew on your cheek, self-conscious all of a sudden about your appearance because you are very much aware that Namjoon is examining every aspect of your face.

“Yeah. I mean, I already know how to play the piano, so I might as well learn how to play another instrument, right?”

“No – yeah, you’re right.” He stammers and he folds his hands together only to be interrupted by Jimin tossing over a bag of pretzels at Namjoon.

“Bell’s about to ring. Pretzels was all they had left. We need to head to physics soon.” Taehyung and Jimin are swinging their bags over their shoulders. Hoseok is too busy on his phone, showing Jungkook a video of his new choreography.

Suddenly, you are receiving a plethora of notifications in the depths of your jean pocket. Your fingers unlock your phone only to reveal a series of text messages from your sister.

Sena [12:29]: Did you just spend your entire lunch with Kim Namjoon?

Sena [12:32]: Earth to YN?

Sena [12:39]: GUK IS FRIENDS WITH ALL 4 OF THEM.

Sena [12:41]: You have officially made a fucking impression to this school. I’m so proud of you. You’re sitting with us at lunch tomorrow.

“Guess I’ll see you later, YN.” The bell doesn’t descend you back to reality. Instead, it was his voice that brings you to pack up your things into your bag. “You might want to sit at the back for Mr. Lu’s biology class; he’s a spitter.” Namjoon swings his backpack over his shoulder. “He reuses the same lesson plan every year. If you need any help with them, you know who to look for.”

As you’re swinging your own bag, Namjoon leaves you with a wink as he is exiting the doors of the cafeteria into the school hallways.

Now, you understand why the entire world was obsessed with Kim Namjoon.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Mrs. Kang, your calculus, is a middle-aged woman who didn’t look like she had aged past thirty. You found it incredibly hard to believe the woman was nearly in her mid-forties who had three kids of her own. She looked like a stern woman but had a good heart from what you remembered; she only wanted what was best for the class even though it meant tormenting them with a shit ton of homework. “I don’t need to go over the syllabus with you bunch. As you can see, this is a much smaller class than a regular class because not a lot of people pass this class.”

Silence fills the room from when you had first arrived. You were one of the last few people to find your seat because your class was all the way on the other side of campus. It seemed like everyone in your class were juniors or seniors. There were so many of them who knew each other from previous classes; they were all huddled in their own designated spots in the class, so you sat at the front of the class because all the seats at the back had been taken and it may help that you’re at the front because it’ll force you to pay attention.

“There’s a lot of material to cover and there’s only so much I can do. Since we’ve implemented the new block schedule, we’ll only be seeing each other for an hour and a half every Wednesdays and Fridays. First thirty minutes will be on new material, next thirty minutes will be spent on practice problems, and then the last thirty minutes will be working with your partner on getting your homework started. I’ve figured getting a head start on the homework for the last thirty minutes will be helpful just in case you or your partner are lost, you have me to ask for assistance.”

Someone’s hand raises up in the air out of your periphery.

Mrs. Kang points to them. “Yes, Namjoon?”

“How do we determine who are partners will be?”

“Please tell me we get to pick our partners.” Mrs. Kang is already turning her back to the class as she searches for a box that had been hidden behind her computer monitor only for her shake the contents of the box.

“The last time I gave the students the opportunity to choose who their partner was, I’ve written a disciplinary notice for academic dishonesty twice a week.” Mrs. Kang prefaced, and the room goes silent. As she continues ruffling through folded papers inside the wooden box, you are already aware of how the partner system is going to work.

Everything was going to be randomly assigned.

“We have 26 of you total which means there will be 13 pairs.” Mrs. Kang announces, and she walks around the class starting from the left where the person is picking a folded paper out of the box. Each person who had unfolded their paper sat patiently until Mrs. Kang had completed distributing the paired assignments around the room. She is fetching a pen and paper as she sits on her desk.

“Alright, our first pair is –” Mrs. Kang looks up to see two people raise their hands; it had been Hoseok and a girl with the prettiest bangs named Mimi. Mrs. Kang continued jotting down the pairs until you scanned the number on your own paper; a large 12 inscribed on your already tattered paper.

You hear Mrs. Kang’s voice as she calls out for the twelfth pair and you raise your hand. You don’t see anyone in your periphery raise their hands, so you turn your body around to search for your partner.

Your body turns cold and still, but you can feel your cheeks get warm at the sight of Namjoon seated down at the back with Hoseok with his hands raised, revealing that he had pulled the same number as you. The thumping in your heart is loud and it beats hard as each moment passes.

Both your hands lower and you are trying to turn your attention back to the front of the class where your teacher stood, but you can feel his eyes on you. You remembered scolding yourself, unaware of why you were so nervous and so shocked to be his partner – he saw you nothing more than another classmate; someone to help him with his assignments.

“Perfect! Since we have our pairs, everyone will be sitting next to their partner from now on; I don’t care where it’ll be. I just need you to sit with them, so we’re not scrambling at the last thirty minutes of class to find them.” Mrs. Kang says sternly, clearly not wanting to waste time in this class. “Shall we begin?”

“How do you already have so much shit to do?” Jungkook laid comfortably on your bed, shoving down salt and vinegar potato chips that your parents had bought from the store last weekend. “Do you like never take a break from reading or what?”

“It’s just a really interesting book.” You say as you flip through the next page and bite into an apple.

You two laid on your bed, basking in the afternoon sun. Normally, you two didn’t have this much down time. Last summer, you two volunteered to be camp counselors to lessen the boredom you two would endure. It was either that or spending every goddamn weekend on the golf course with Jungkook’s parents and yours.

“I was thinking of trying out for the track & field team.” Jungkook informs you and you resume reading. “Namjoon-hyung tells me that the team runs right after school and it sounds fun. Events are early though, and we all know I’m not an early riser.”

The mention of Namjoon urged you to reminisce back to your last period that day. Mrs. Kang mentioned that she wasn’t going to let the class immediately sit right next to their homework partner – thank god. You just wouldn’t know what to talk about with him; you don’t really know what to talk about with people because they always somehow led the conversation back to your older sister.

But, at the end of class, he did manage to keep up with you as you hastily packed all your items into the bag before you darted outside of the classroom. You planned on walking home with Jungkook and you two would meet at the front of the school. Namjoon, somehow, caught up to you in time.

He had grabbed your arm and greeted with you with his million-dollar smile. “Hey,” He breathes, and you stop to offer him a meeker and shier smile.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“You’re meeting with Guk?”

You give him a single nod before he hands you two pieces of paper. You’re curious as to what they are, and you see the words parent’s consent form along with the health forms to give to a doctor – for a physical.

“He’ll know what they’re for.” He reassured you and you hold onto the forms. “Thanks for that. I have to go; I have a meeting in five minutes with the student council.”

“I’ll be sure to give it to him. Was there anything else you wanted to tell him?”

He shakes his head, and he starts reversing his steps, clutching onto the straps of his bags. “I – um, I’m really looking forward for calculus – you know, the whole partner thing. I must be really lucky to be partnered with a cracked, math whiz like you.”

Now, you’re blushing because you weren’t really sure if you were supposed to be flattered or offended.

And he read you so well because he is suddenly panicking but he hid it. He stops his reverses, and he takes one step closer to you.

“I’ll see you and Guk at lunch tomorrow, if that’s alright?” He hums; his voice sounded so soft and clear to you – no one can hear a single thing he had said to you, but you heard him bright as day. Suddenly, you feel a grin creep up to your mouth and you nod once. You had regained some of your confidence back and Namjoon can see it. “Cool, well, I’ll see you ‘round, YN.”

“Earth to YN.” Jungkook snaps at you and you pay attention to your friend who is lying next to you. “Did you hear a single thing I said?”

“Sorry ‘bout that. I dozed for a couple minutes.” You admit and he scrunches his brows, dismissing your moment of silence.

“I was asking how it was like to be in a class of seniors.”

“There’s no difference, honestly.” You begin your thought. “It sucks just because I don’t really know anyone, and everyone knows everyone.”

“Yeah, but you have Namjoon-hyung and Hobi-hyung.” Jungkook reassures you. “They’re basically your friends now because we’ll be hanging around them a lot.”

You weren’t sure if you were looking forward to or nervous to be spending a lot more time with the older guys. They made a good first impression on you though; they’ve probably only mentioned your sister’s name once. Granted, it was only thirty minutes spent together, but it was so much better than most of the conversations you’ve had with everybody else.

“That’s true. I have Namjoon as my homework partner, so I’ll… definitely need to get along with him.” You chuckle under your breath as you read through each line without comprehending a single thing. Your mind had been so clouded with the idea of Namjoon and you weren’t sure why.

Jungkook decided not to stay for dinner that evening even though mom made two pans of lasagna to feed a village. However, he did help you and your mother prepare it. Your mom was pretty insistent on it, so you promise that you’d be giving him some leftovers for lunch the next day. Your dad arrived home next; it was a typical evening – he beelined to your mom, planted a kiss on her cheek and patted your back before he hastily moved to the office to continue working. Sena arrived home from school at a later hour than usual before she was already setting the plates on the dining table.

“Alright, Guk, final offer.” Your mother says as she is pulling out two piping pans of lasagna out of the oven.

“No, thanks, Mrs. LN.” He respectfully declines before he is swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Mom’s expecting me home right about now for dinner. I’ll definitely ask YN to pack me up some leftovers though.”

“Alright.” She waves him a goodbye before you are showing him to the door. “Walk home safely.” She bids him a goodbye softly as she pulls the foils off the pan.

“Pack me an extra serving, please.” Jungkook pleads and you roll your eyes before he already made his way out of the door.

“Honey, dinner’s ready!”

“You did not tell me Jungkook was friends with Namjoon.” Sena settles herself on the dining table and you sit right across from her, waiting for your mom to begin serving everyone a slice of lasagna.

“Quite frankly, I didn’t know Jungkook even knew Namjoon either. I’d say I’m just as surprised as you are, but I really don’t know what the fascination is with Namjoon.” You lied through your teeth as your mom serves herself first (she called dibs on the corner piece) and you decide on getting the smallest piece since you weren’t so hungry that evening.

“Are you talking about Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s son? Is this the same Namjoon we’re talking about right now?” Your mom’s curiosity is evident in her tone, taking small bites out of a side salad she had prepared.

“Yes, and Sena is hopelessly in love with him.” You shove the lettuce into your mouth as you wait for your lasagna serving to cool down momentarily.

“How can you not be in love with him?” She breathes out hastily. Your dad has his brows raised in disbelief; his daughter talking endlessly about her crush.

“He is a nice boy; responsible, kind, gentle, polite, seems to get things done, really cute too.” Your mom lists his never-ending advantages, and you stray away from their eyes because you hate the admit that you find him incredibly cute.

“Can we please talk about something other than this boy?” Your father is already exhausted from listening to you talk about Namjoon and you don’t blame him, really. “How was the first day for you, dear?” He refers to you and you are still chewing on your dinner.

“I have three classes with Guk. I like all of my classes so far; I can already tell calculus is going to be… a lot of work. We have a test every week and we mandatory study sessions after school for the exam to qualify for college credits. Thankfully, I have a partner to work with just in case I don’t understand anything. There’s also –”

“Who’s your partner? Maybe I know them.”

Your silence is defeating, and you look at your dad who is waiting for his answer and you dart your eyes back at Sena who is piecing the puzzle in her head, so she drops her mouth open, gasping at your lack of a response.

“No fucking way!”

“Language, please, Sena.” Your mom scolds.

“I mean, you’ve been in the same classes as him before! I’m sure you’ve been in a group project with him or something. You guys are in the same clubs. I don’t understand why you haven’t asked him out.” You weren’t so sure what motivated you to blurt it all out because your sister was definitely a good catch, but the obsession with him was getting way out of hand.

“That’s ridiculous, YN. I would never ask out a guy. I don’t even know he likes me that way.” Sena is taking small bites out of her dinner and you sigh to yourself, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “If there was only a way for me to find out. It’s not like I have a sister who’s partners with him in a class – oh, she’s also best friends with his next-door neighbor! How convenient.”

She eyes at you where you decide to focus on your meal, but her eyes are pleading and desperate.

“I… am completely eliminating myself from this predicament, Sena. If you want to ask him out for yourself, you should do it. Besides, who wouldn’t like you? You’re amazing.” Your voice is sincere and genuine, and you hope she pushes all of her fears and insecurities to the side to do something about her feelings.

“It would just be so much easier if I knew if he thought I was cute or something.”

“Everyone thinks you’re cute.”

“That’s not the point, YN. Listen, how ‘bout this? You don’t even have to drop my name in there; just ask what his ideal girl is like or something… or let Guk do the work! I’m sure he already knows the answer. Just help a girl out, please, YN.” You sigh defeated because your sister was really good at convincing.

It wasn’t really hard to figure out what type of girl Namjoon was interested in or… if he was interested in girls. All of this was easier said than done and you were going to rely on Jungkook a lot on this.

“I’m not going to prioritize this.” You surrender and she is giddy in her seat.

“YN, you are the best sister anyone could ask for.”

Several weeks have passed since you had last had your conversation with your older sister. You made an emphasis that you weren’t going to prioritize delving into Namjoon’s personal life. You were purely on a calculus homework and best friend’s next door neighbor relationship with him. But you finally get an idea of what Namjoon likes in a girl when he had to leave early for calculus to get pep rally ready for the first football game that Friday.

Unknown [14:34]: It’s Namjoon. Got your number from Guk.

For some reason, you feel your heart leap out of your chest at the text message. You’re still seated in calculus class working on the first few problems of your homework without him. You look up to see that Mrs. Kang is too busy assisting other students confused with the problem. Honestly, you were confused too and were unsure with your methods, but your mind had been too focused on your cellphone the entire time.

Namjoon [14:35]: Should’ve gave you the heads up about this. Sorry about leaving you alone to work. ):

You [14:36]: It’s no big deal. Seems like everyone’s confused, tbh.

Namjoon [14:36]: Fuck, mb. It’s the first game of the night, so I’m kind of required to be here. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

Namjoon [14:37]: I have some down time after setting up. Maybe we can work on it then?

You [14:37]: Just tell me the time and place, I’ll be there. (:

Namjoon says that he had somebody covering his duties for the student council before the game began. You see him rushing inside a computer lab that remained open for students to use. You had reserved a table at a secluded corner because you wanted to be away from prying eyes. He spots you trying to reread your notes and erase the umpteenth method you had tried for a word problem you were stuck on.

He admires the way your brows knit together; lips pursed as you began redoing your method on a separate piece of paper. He keeps standing, not taking his place on the chair right next to you – too afraid that you would interrupt your flow. You feel a presence right next to you and he nearly gives you a fright and you realize just how tall he is.

“You scared me.” You inform and he chuckles softly at how endearing it was. He takes the seat right next to you where he is already pulling out notebook and pencils from his bag.

“I left my book at my locker. Do you mind if I share your book with you?” You look at your open textbook and nod at once pushing the textbook closer for both of you to see. “Thanks.” He scoots much closer than you had intended and when he strips his hoodie off of him, you can smell his cologne and how good it smelled on him.

You ignore your thoughts and scurry back to the problem you’re on.

“What problem did you end on?” He inquires and you point to the exact word problem you had been staring at for the past thirty minutes in class.

“It’s been bugging me. I didn’t want to ask Mrs. Kang because I wanted to figure it out myself.” You were so stubborn, he thought to himself. You had only completed a total of eight problems when there was so much more to do for the weekend. For some reason, you decided to stay stuck on that problem for god knows how long and Namjoon found it adorable – one of the few attributes he liked about you.

He reads the word problem and begins trying to solve the problem on his own. After several tries, he had figure out what you had done wrong and he so desperately wanted to point it out to you. Just when he was about to open his mouth, you turn to him and shake your head, covering your ears with your hands.

“No. I refuse to let you tell me what you did wrong. I can figure this out myself.” You whisper harshly. Namjoon can’t help but respond with silenced laughter because this is exactly how your homework sessions have been going; just the both of you refusing to let the other correct each other until the other figured it out themselves.

“Can I give you one clue?”

“Nope.” You popped your ‘p’ to accentuate just how persistent you were. You stuck out your lower lip as you examined the word problem again and he looked at the glossiness of your mouth and the softness of your cheeks; how he desperately wanted to lay his own petals right on yours as his fingers crawl to your face.

“So, I have a question.” He starts.

“And I can try to give you an answer depending on what it is.”

“Are… you and Guk by any chance – y’know?” His question is vague, but you definitely know what he is asking you because lots of people were never really used to the idea of a boy and a girl ever being best friends; for some reason, people assume they always end up dating and never talking to each other again.

“God, no. I love him, but I don’t love him like… I’d date him.” Your cheeks were fully flamed, and you weren’t so sure why you were so embarrassed to discuss this with Namjoon. All the times you had to clarify people on your relationship with Jungkook, you were almost disgusted and quick to reassure people that you two were nothing more than friends.

“Well, is there anyone you were willing to date?” Namjoon is pushing the boundaries here and he knows it very well. But he feels like he has gotten to know you well enough in the past few weeks to ask such a question.

“Not that… I know of really.” You try to remain composed when you respond to his question, but you feel his eyes burn into your soul, so you’re doing everything you can to avoid his stare. But Namjoon continues to stare right into you. He really can’t take his eyes off of you. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever really experienced what it’s like to be attracted to –” Just when you had mustered the confidence to look at him, he is quite literally staring so deeply into your eyes that it is taking your breath away.

He is making you eat your words right now; you can’t take your eyes off of him.

“You don’t know what it’s like to…?”

“I don’t what it’s like to be attracted to someone.” You sigh softly; your breath fanning him. “On the contrary, I don’t think anyone’s ever really been attracted to me.” A chuckle comes erupting from your mouth, shaking your head. “Fortunately, that’s not really my goal in high school.”

“You don’t know that.” He quips.

“I don’t know what?”

“If someone’s been attracted to you before.” You shake your head in disbelief, chewing on the inside of your cheek knowing fully well that he was doing this because he wanted to seem like a dick for not disagreeing with your self-deprecation.

“Well, what about you?” You pose the question to him. “From what I understand, most girls and guys I pass by swoon every time you pass by.” He is chuckling to himself this time and he is very much aware of his desirability among his classmates. “You have plenty of choices; I’m sure you have the opportunity to date someone you must really like at this very moment.”

“That’s what I’m hoping on. I’m just not quite sure how she feels about me.” You feel like you were unraveling his darkest secrets and you were happy he considered you close enough to reveal who it is or give an inkling to who it is.

“Do I know her by any chance?” You’re hoping that you can narrow down who he is interested in. Because you barely knew anybody, you knew this would be a piece of cake.

“Yes.” He replies simply and he is staring at you. “You know her very well, YN.” He sighs, hoping you would finally understand what he is alluding to.

“Is she in my grade?” You were really hoping that the answer would be no or else you’d be breaking some terrible news to Sena that evening after the football game.

Namjoon nods slowly and he can see how you are not picking up his hints. He sees the slight disappointment in your face for whatever reason. Suddenly, he is perplexed because, in his eyes, he has made it pretty clear who he was interested in from the get-go. Many people should make the assumption, too, considering there was only one person he had his eyes on – only one person he was giving his attention to.

“Is it… that girl in Guk’s class who –”

As you are trying to list out the girls in your class who has interacted with Namjoon, he is in complete disbelief that you have not figured it out at all. How much more clueless could you get? He is sighing now because is frustrated. He admires your persistence when it came to solving difficult word problems in calculus but it’s frustrating when you are unaware of his feelings for you.

Just when is about to confess his feelings for you, you are greeted with another presence calling for both your names.

“So, this is where you two have been.” Jungkook ambles hastily towards your table and you grin from ear to ear when he is taking out his algebra textbook. “YN, one last chance, please. I didn’t pass my last quiz which brought me one letter grade down and my dad’s going to make me quit track & field if I don’t –”

“I told you I’d help you over the weekend, dumbass. I’m busy getting shit done with Namjoon.” You breathe softly before he is hugging you on your side and you grunt at how much stronger he has gotten. “But you’re buying me coffee for a week.”

“Sick.” Jungkook simply replies before he begins unpacking some of his homework. “You excited for the football game, Namjoon-hyung?” Jungkook queries and Namjoon is baffled because the moment is gone. One interruption from his next-door neighbor and the moment’s lost.

“Fuck yeah.” Namjoon replies and he sees that you’ve suddenly lost interest in the subject. You were subconsciously listening on their conversation while you are back to resolving the complicated word problem right in front of you. “Will you two be going to the game?”

“I’ll go, but YN won’t go because she hates crowds and, honestly, she doesn’t know how the game.” You exhale in response to Jungkook’s statements. Namjoon observes that you decide to move onto another problem, wanting to tackle the word problem at a different time. “Everyone you know will practically be there. Why not give it a shot?”

“We usually have half of the bleachers reserved for the student council since we’re in charge of tickets and concessions, so it won’t be that big of a crowd.” Namjoon attempts to entice you with modifications to appease your concerns. “Plus, we’d all get to hang out with each other; no homework, no calculus talk – just… us.”

Jungkook is stunned to see you agree.

The night was a lot more enjoyable than you thought it would be. Namjoon waived off the entrance fee for the game the moment he mentioned that you and Jungkook were volunteers. Taehyung was already on the field taking photographs of the football players and cheerleaders while Jimin took photographs of the students on the bleachers. You even passed by your own sister who was busy with her own group at the entrance entertaining friends, families, and alumni into the bleachers. Meanwhile, Namjoon was overseeing every single aspect of the event; he was mainly at the concessions, not wanting to create so much traffic around it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You offer your assistance before he notices that you have your hair all tied up. “I’ve washed my hands if that helps.” Namjoon can’t hide his smile and he offer you a pair of food safe gloves.

“I’m usually one to decline help, but we really need it. Let’s see – Yuqi really needs to go use the bathroom, so you can be in charge of the drinks and chips right now.” You take your station at the drinks and chips stations. It was going faster than you had expected; people ordered too fast or too slow – there was no in between. There were people who were very certain with their order which you appreciated. Then, there were the people who were very fickle with their order and you can’t help but stand awkwardly to wait for them to decide.

“I can’t believe you roped me into helping.” Jungkook grumbles under his breath. “Hey, I didn’t rope you into anything.” You take the five-dollar bill from the student and offer them back their change.

“Yeah, but you made me seem like a real asshole sitting there not helping.” You can’t help but laugh at Jungkook’s pout because you knew just how much he wanted to just spend his time on the bleachers, watching the game with his hyungs. But he was stuck here helping out the student council while most of them were on their bathroom breaks.

“Once someone’s back from their bathroom break, you can go back to your game.” You soothe him and the chaos outside the booth is starting to die down. Less and less people were coming because they’ve all satisfied their craving and the game was building up – it was pretty close, so you understand why Jungkook was in there sulking with you. When you turn to look at Namjoon, hoping to convince him to let Jungkook off the hook, you don’t see him there.

You look out the window to hear your sister’s pretentious giggle. She laughed so differently around him – acted so differently around him. He stood right next to her with the rest of the council members, giving them a big pep talk. She looked at him like he was an angel who fell from heaven. Their conversation ends and the rest of the council members disband except Sena and Namjoon. They are having a personal conversation and you can’t read mouths, but you can’t tear your eyes away from their beaming faces.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” You clear your throat, speaking so softly so only Jungkook can hear you.

“I’m all ears.”

“Does – does Namjoon have a type?” You say out of curiosity. Jungkook raises a brow at you, curious as to what motivated you to ask the question.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve never really heard hyung talk about any girls… or his type, to be honest.” He hums and he is staring at you stare at your sister and Namjoon. “Why’d you ask?”

“It’s… for Sena.” It was the truth, but your own curiosity was definitely a motivating factor. “She’s been obsessed with Namjoon since… as long as I can remember.” You breathe out, hoping no one else can eavesdrop on your conversation. “She’s been talking a lot about him more since she found out I knew him, y’know?”

“Huh,” Jungkook leans on the table and folds his arms. “Why doesn’t she just tell him?”

“Apparently, she needs some sort of confirmation that he thinks of her that way too, so she doesn’t make a fool of herself.”

“Why don’t you just ask him then?” Your silence is clearly something Jungkook wasn’t expecting because you never actually considered it once. “He’s a pretty easy-going guy; just ask him and he’ll be honest.”

“We’re not on that level of friendship yet, I guess.”

“Well, I consider you guys close enough to ask that kind of question.”

“Then, he’d just assume I’m being friends with him because my sister was using me.”

“Well, are you?”

“No.”

Your own answer stuns you almost. Just a couple weeks ago, you knew nothing of Namjoon and, suddenly, you are on a level of friendship where you think you can confide him in anything. Perhaps, now, you really understood why everyone obsessed over him; why everyone wanted to be friends with him, why everyone wanted to date him, why everyone just wanted to be noticed by him.

“Then, feel free to ask him yourself.”

You hadn’t really worked up the courage to talk to Namjoon about his dating life. You repeated to yourself that it wasn’t really a priority to delve into what goes on behind the scenes with Namjoon. You were in a consistent state of going to school, doing your homework, reading books, and retraining your body to try out for the swim team next semester. 

But the time came when you got sick for an entire week and missed so much material, especially calculus material.

But you were eternally saved by Namjoon himself.

Namjoon had requested to drop off the homework sheets and printed copies of his notes over to you. Everything was so detailed, and you were impressed with how organized everything seemed to be. You didn’t know what motivated you to reach for your phone on your bed and dial in his number. Maybe you felt like it deserved a personal thanks rather than a typed one.

“YN?” His voice on the other line sounded so surprised and there was so much noise on the other end. “Give me a second.” He excuses before you hear him move to another location, somewhere much quieter.

“How many times do I have to thank you for being an absolute saint?” Your voice sounded so stuffed. The flu was getting to you really bad, but you were recovering well. But he chuckles into the receiver and you are flipping through each page he had printed before you fall onto your bed, sighing blissfully. “I’m serious, Joon. I’ll say it a million times if I have to.”

“You’ve pulled my weight when I was off doing council work so much. I’m sure if I got sick, you’d do the exact same thing. It’s what partners do.” Namjoon is smiling from ear to ear; he was glowing, and no one was there to really witness it. “I – um, did you see my note attached at the back?”

You are now flipping through the pages frantically until you see a handwritten sticky note that read: “We have a quiz on the Monday you come back. I’m free this weekend if you wanted to study with me.” And there was even a little smiley face attached to it and you are experiencing a whirlwind of emotions.

“You have got to be fucking with me.” You can feel the panic starting to bubble in the pits of your belly, but you were trying not to let it show. “You’ve already done so much for me. I can’t rob you of your weekend. It’s just – It’s just too much.”

“I’m happy to do it, Ace. I promise.” The guy deserved everything in the world because he was too generous for the world and you weren’t so sure what you did to deserve such kindness.

“Ace?”

He chuckles embarrassingly into the receiver, chewing on his cheeks. “I – uh, it’s a nickname. I hope you don’t mind.” Suddenly, butterflies erupt from your stomach and there is a glow on your cheeks that you are very much aware of and you are curling into your bed with a shit eating grin on your face.

“I – I like it.” You sigh and Namjoon leans on the wall as he observes the rest of his friends and council members enjoy slices of pizza, taking a well-deserved break from preparing for the pep rally event coming up next week.

“So, is that a yes to a study session this Saturday?”

“Yes.” Your voice is small and hesitant because it feels like you’re doing something wrong when you were just having a quiz session with your calculus partner.

“Great. My place or yours?”

Namjoon insisted on coming over to your place because you were still recovering. Coincidentally, your parents had the weekend trip away with your dad’s work colleague for a wine tasting event. You debated whether you wanted to tell Sena that Namjoon was going to be arriving in an hour, but you soon realize that she was out with her friend’s house for a movie night session.

You had the place all to yourself and you were relieved and frantic all at once.

You busied yourself the entire day to make yourself look decent; brushed hair, brushed teeth, clean face, and fresh clothes. You throw used tissues into trash bins, changed your sheets, and kicked all of your dirty laundry into your hamper that had fallen on the carpeted floors. As you are jogging downstairs, you discover you have no food in the fridge, so you’d probably have to order a pizza or something to share with Namjoon.

Immediately, you question why you are so desperate to make the place and yourself so presentable when this was a mere tutoring session with your calculus partner?

The doorbell ringing prompts you to peek through the peep hole and you see him; he is wearing a regular white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He has his hoodie thrown over his shoulder as he begins texting a message on his phone, waiting for you to open the door for him.

When you unlock the front door and open the door for him, you smile timidly at him.

“Hi,” You greet him nervously.

“Hey, Ace.” He waves before he examines how you look. Despite your red nose and tired eyes, he missed seeing your face for a week; he really did. You stood awkwardly fiddling with your fingers and he can sense just how anxious you are, so he decides to tread lightly. “May I come in?”

His tone is so polite which effectively allows you to open the door wider for him to enter. You are nodding and you close the door shut behind him, ensuring that you have locked them. “I – um, I can’t really offer you anything to eat since my parents are out of town, but we can order pizza, if you want. It’s what my sister and I usually do.”

“I’m more than okay with pizza.” He permits and you nod and begin walking to the living room. “Will we be working here?”

“We can work anywhere.” You announce. The conversation is so light, and you hate how quick yet reluctant you are to your responses. “I – I can get you a glass of water, if you’d like. I’ll just get my things from upstairs and bring them down to the living room.” You inform him and he nods as he is making himself comfortable on the couch.

You are scurrying off upstairs to go get your materials and catching your breath because you think you were holding your breath the entire time. You’re stalling because you’re making a check list of every single thing you need for downstairs to avoid seeing him or talking with him. Just when you are about to exit, you see him at the bottom of the stairs. He is examining each family portrait on the wall.

Your face is hot because you can only imagine how terrible you looked like a child, so you jog downstairs with your study materials to gain his attention. “I never really realized how much Sena looks like your dad.” Namjoon comments and you stop in your tracks, only to examine the portrait he is looking at. “Exact same nose and smile.”

You purse your lips into a thin line because you are reminded once again that he is probably only interested in getting to know Sena – there was always that possibility. You were so familiar with this feeling of discussing your sister with other people because – yes, she is absolutely beautiful and intelligent and there was no denying it.

“But you are like your mother.” He comments as he takes a closer look at your mom who seems to be so much more youthful. “The way she’s smiling here looks so much like the way you smile.” He describes and you allow him to explain more by staying silent. “When you smile, your nose kind of crinkles and the corners of your eyes creases and your dimples are a lot more –”

Your throat seizes because you’re flattered and aware that he has perfectly examined your appearance and all the features in what he sees. He grows silent and he is chuckling nervously, scratching the back of his hand to distract himself.

“Sorry that was… super random.” Namjoon clears his throat, and you are shaking your head before you point towards the living room.

“I – I’m ready now.”

Now, you’re desperately hoping Sena doesn’t come home too early from her friend’s house.

Hours have passed since Namjoon have gotten you caught up with all of the materials and have assisted you through last week’s homework sheets. Namjoon was impressed with how you can keep up despite your recovering condition. One minute, you were sneezing and wiping your nose clean and, the next minute, you have your lips pursed and brows furrowed as you are writing equations down on a separate piece of paper.

“I got a question for you.” Namjoon begins and you are still too busy piecing everything together for a specific word problem you wanted to master.

“Shoot.”

“Are you always this focused?” You are typing things into a calculator before you are erasing things on your paper and you turn to look at him, showing him the calculator.

“Is this the right answer?” You ignore his question for a moment.

He nods and you grin at him before you proceed onto the next word problem.

“If I’m a week’s worth of lessons behind, yes, I’m focused all the time.” Namjoon is shaking his head and he is in awe at how you are so quick at writing all the information; he notices how neat your handwriting is too. Namjoon checks his watch and realizes just how late it has been and he clears his throat as he looks out the window to see the sun has gone completely down.

“Will your sister be coming home tonight?” Namjoon notices that you stop writing – you stop solving the word problem that you are tackling because you, suddenly, realize that he is asking about your sister.

“She’s probably still at a friend’s house or something.” He senses the atmosphere has changed and you shift your mind back to the practice problem right in front of you. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason – well, I honestly thought she should be taking care of her recovering sister.” You snicker at his statement.

“She’s a great sister, but she’s not that great.” You quip, biting your tongue at how ridiculous he sounded. “I think we can all agree that she’s smart, charismatic, and ambitious. I will admit she’s a really considerate sister too, but she thinks caring for her ill sister is a parents’ job – not hers.”

“Okay, okay, I get it she’s amazing but not… amazing.” He raises his hands to surrender and his words coming out of his mouth urged you to inquire about his relationship with her.

“If you think she’s amazing, why don’t you date her?” The words came spilling out of your mouth uncontrollably. Maybe it was the meds, you thought. You see the grin disappear from Namjoon’s face into utter confusion and he tilts his head for further clarification. “What I mean is that… you’ve known her and worked with her for so long and she’s a great girl – I’m obviously really biased considering she’s my sister, but you two would make a… great couple.”

You didn’t believe that you were talking about this to Namjoon. You didn’t think you would have the guts to discuss this with him, but the opportunity came up and you took it. But you are faced with such an unfamiliar emotion. True discomfort arises at the pit of your stomach as Namjoon’s brows furrow together and he is shaking his head with the same boyish grin he always flaunted to the world.

“Ace, she’s great, but I… honestly see her as a friend.” He isn’t so sure how many times he’s reiterated those words before. Because little did you know, so many people have asked the exact same thing. Peers and colleagues in their class were very much aware of Sena’s not so little crush on Namjoon for quite some time.

“Well, I mean, isn’t that how all relationships really start? Becoming friends and then possibly developing feelings for each other? Most people always see each other as friends until one of them is aware of the others’ feelings, right?” Your tone was so quizzical. You were treating this conversation like it required rationale and logical reasoning to tackle the issue at hand.

But this wasn’t a problem the mind can solve.

“That’s the usual circumstance, yes.” He admits and he sees that you resume back to the worksheet. “But I’ve known Sena’s had a thing for me and, quite frankly, I’ve been interested in someone else for a while, remember?”

“Someone far more interesting than Sena?” You are in disbelief. You are trying to eliminate other people in school who is on the same social standing as your older sister. “That’s… not possible.” You breathe.

“You’re wrong.” You stop writing because you are retracing your steps on the word problem you are solving. He finds it so endearing how you can’t seem to understand that he is utterly into you, but you are so lost in numbers.

“No, don’t tell me, Joon. I’ve told you this hundreds of times –” You lift your head to look at him to accentuate your reminder; you didn’t want to know what you wrong, you wanted to solve the problem yourself unless you demanded the assistance yourself.

Normally, Namjoon would comply with your request. It was so rare for him to point out your mistake, but he figured this was the perfect time to do so.

“You’re so stubborn.” He breathes before he dives in.

You don’t complete your sentence. Because when you turn your head to look at him with pleading eyes, you are met with his pillowy petals on yours. Your cheeks heat instantaneously, and you can feel your heart leap from your chest.

His kisses were soft and slow. You don’t realize that he has already cupped your cheeks. You’ve never kissed anyone ever before but, for some reason, it was like you knew how to move your mouth against his. He was gentle but there was a certain control he possessed. You pull away momentarily to breathe and, suddenly, you feel the heat of his tongue swipe on your lower lip. A shuddered whimper leaves your mouth before you are regrettably pulling away from addiction.

“N – no, that’s not possible.” You’re still in denial from the events that occurred. “Sena – she’d be so… betrayed if she –” Your brain is glitching and it didn’t help that you can taste the mint of his lips on yours.

“Listen, Ace, for one moment stop thinking about Sena and answer me honestly.” Namjoon positions his body to look straight onto you. “Do you feel the same way I do or not?”

“I don’t – I don’t know.” You shrug before avoiding his eyes. “I – I shouldn’t like you.” You sigh defeated and you are covering your face. You were ashamed not because you like him, but because you didn’t understand what you were really feeling, and you didn’t understand what you wanted to do. “Why – why do you like me?”

“You’re hardworking and incredibly intelligent.”

“I know plenty of other girls who are… exactly the same.”

“Your tastes in book are impeccable. You’re selfless to a degree that I can’t quite comprehend. You keep to yourself, but when you speak your mind, it leaves a lasting impression. Listen, YN, I can keep going, but you can’t… keep doubting my feelings for you.” Namjoon justifies and it was a tough pill to swallow.

You were too stunned to say anything. Too many emotions flooding your brain and it took too long for it to process, so you remained expressionless. Namjoon found it incredibly difficult for him to read your face.

“Ace, it’s really hard to tell how you’re feeling right now.” He points out and you understand just how awkward you sat there; head spinning with so many things to say but very little coming out of your mouth.

“I – I don’t know what you want me to say.” You admit. “I’m not sure what you’re expecting out of me with a confession like this. If I don’t feel the same way, what would’ve happened? If I do feel the same way, what – what was I supposed to do?”

“Well, for starters, do you actually feel the same way as I do?”

“I – I do.” You croak to respond to his inquiry. “I – I don’t think I’ve ever admitted that to myself either, but… I think I like you.”

A wave of relief washed over Namjoon, but there’s a bit of relief for you too. It’s out in the open now, and you know that there’s nothing really you can do about it. There’s a very content grin plastered right across his handsome face, but it slowly transforms into a frown as he realizes that, despite your feelings for each other, nothing will change between the both of you.

“Namjoon, we can’t be anything more than friends.” You realize the unfortunate circumstances the both of you were in. “It’s not fair to my sister. I don’t think it’s very fair to make me choose between you and my sister. I – I don’t think it’s very fair that… you’re in this position.”

Your heart swelled just moments ago, and you can feel it crumble into pieces as the words come spilling out of your lips.

“I understand.” He agrees softly and you perk up at his acquiescence. “I’m not going to force you to be in that position, Ace.” The reassurance softens your tense form, and his fingers cradle your chin, lifting up to be at eye level with you.

“But when you’re ready to reconsider... us, I’ll be waiting.”

↪ Please stay tuned for the next part!