#SHE CAME BACK EARLIER THAN I EXPECTED FROM SCHOOL AND THE DRAMATIC ASS MUSIC WAS BLARING

[snixx]

my sister caught me watching k3g without her as the weirdass english netflix subtitles would say im such a dead duck

[preferredrealty]

More Than Friends - A Frat!Grayson Dolan Imagine

Masterlist

As Always, Feedback is appreciated 💛🌻

(Y/N) clutched her sides, her laugh echoing around the empty baseball park as she watched Ethan imitate the baseball dance from High School Musical 2. “Hey bat-a bat-a swing!” He sang very off key, as the rest of the boys finished getting into their jerseys.

After years of playing baseball together, they had decided to pitch together and get a jersey made. (Y/N) almost cried the day they handed her one, personalised with the month of her birthday as the number and her nickname stitched onto the back.  It was white, with black stripes running diagonal down it, New York was in bold on the front. Why? She had no idea.

Practicing swinging the bat in her hands, her eyes caught the naked back of her best friend. His muscles rippled as he dug through his bag. She almost whined when he produced a jersey almost identical to hers shrugging it onto his shoulder. “Hey!” Ethan caught her attention, making her snap her head in his direction just as he reared back his arm, tossing the ball at her.

The echoing sound of a bat hitting a ball made Grayson turn his head, his sight setting on (Y/N). She has her hair in two long braids, the jersey stopped perfectly on her waist making her ass look even more round in the tight black baseball pants she was wearing. Clearing his throat Grayson turned back around, re arranging himself in his pants trying to shake the thought from his head to focus on the game.

He finished lacing up his shoes when someone dropped onto the bench next to him clearing their throat. He looked up, his eyes meeting Ethan’s making him raise an eyebrow as Ethan jutted his chin out to the field. Looking up Grayson frowned seeing James standing with his chest puffed out while he talked to (Y/N). James was tall, almost as tall as Grayson, dirty blonde hair with blue eyes. The rest of the guys were throwing James weird looks, some even glaring. (Y/N) was a baby sister to almost all the guys, expect Grayson clearly. And James was known for getting around. Grayson was about to stand when he noticed James trying to rest his hand on (Y/N)’s waist. He had to cover his mouth to stop a laugh from escaping as (Y/N) dipped her hips in the opposite direction, before practically running over to the rest of the team.

It was an unspoken rule in the house. (Y/N) was Grayson’s. Always has been, always will be. It was unspoken even between the two of them but they both knew there was feelings there and lately James had been trying to get closer to (Y/N).

Ethan stood up holding out a coin for her as they split into team, half the boys standing next to Ethan, the other half with Grayson. Of course the two competitive boys called being team captains. “Okay!” She giggled eyes flickering towards Grayson who was visibly pouting. “Tails, I go with Ethan, Heads, I go with Grayson.” Ethan braced his hands on his knees, jokingly staring hard at Grayson.

(Y/N) tossed the coin in the air, eyes watching as it flipped through the air, landing perfectly in her hand. She flipped it over onto the back of her hand, sighing dramatically as she peek at it. “Ugh, suppose you’ll do.” She teased, removing her hand showing off the coin on heads.

Grayson’s team cheered as one of the guys threw (Y/N) over his shoulder, spinning her around while they all got into position, someone turning on their speaker in the dug out letting their playlist flow through the park.

Ethan stepped up to the pitchers plate and (Y/N) took her place, being the first to bat. Grayson walked behind her, his hand grazing her hip, pressing his face into the side of her neck he pressed a soft kiss there. “You got this baby.” He whispered. Pulling away from her to take his place on the side, leaving (Y/N) with images in her head of him whispering other things to her, in totally different positions.

Shaking her head, (Y/N) adjusted her grip on the bat, smirking at Ethan as he rolled his shoulders back.

-

They were almost finished their game, currently tying. This was their final chance to win and (Y/N) was up to bat again. “You got this (Y/N/N)” Her teammates cheered as she grounded her feet. Her eyes caught sight of James sitting on his haunches out in the field, his glove fitted on his right hand, eyes staring straight back at her. Smirking (Y/N) licked her lips, eyes catching Ethan’s as he pulled at his pants before adjusting his grip on the ball.

The throw was quick, if you blinked you would have missed it. (Y/N) swung the bat with a hard swing, the sound of the ball hitting the bat cracked like thunder thought the park as Ethan’s jaw dropped, watching the ball fly fast and far through the air.

Dropping the bat (Y/N) broke into a sprint as her team started to cheer, Grayson cupped his hands around his mouth trying to shout as hard as he could. As (Y/N) ran across first base, she noticed James running at the far end of the field getting close to where the ball landed. Pushing herself harder (Y/N) had reached second base as James threw the ball to a closer team mate.

Her sneakers slammed against the third base plate as she ran the final stretch, she could hear someone chasing her in hope to get to the base before her being able to get her out but as (Y/N) pushed herself she threw herself over the final base, punching the air as she celebrated. Her lungs burned as she was lifted in the air by her team who were chanting her name making her laugh.

Grayson threw his arm over he shoulder as her feet hit the ground, smirking as he help his thumb and finger in an ‘L’ position towards Ethan and his team, his eyes unintentionally locking with James’ as he smirked.

-

Despite the sunny weather earlier in the day, it was now pouring rain as they sat around the games room of the Frat house, watching a movie on the projector Grayson had bought one day out of boredom. Ethan’s team had bought a mountain of pizza that they all happily indulged in, now all stuffed and into their third movie of the evening, (Y/N) couldn’t stop the yawn from escaping her lips.

She and Grayson had ended up cuddling on the couch, she had showered and changed into one of his t-shirts along with some spandex shorts she had left in his room after one of their many ‘sleep-overs’.

Grayson looked down at her, she was laying on his chest, the rest of her body between his legs as his fingers traced up and down her back. “Tired?” He whispered only getting a hum in response. “Okay.” He nudged her to stand up, taking her by the hand to lead her upstairs. She paused sticking her head back through the door of the game room. “Night guys.” She smiled as they all turned to smile back at her, some waving others shouting a good night.

She didn’t hesitate to fall onto Grayson’s bed when they got to his room making him laugh. His room was painted a plain white colour. One wall mostly covered in photos from the past years of their friendship. Grayson shut off the light, leaving the LED light strips on his wall on, casting a red glow in the room.

Climbing into the bed next to (Y/N)  pressing himself up against her back, Grayson hummed happily as his arm tucked around her waist. He was just laying there enjoying her presence when her giggling cut through the silence.

He smiled lifting his head onto her shoulder to see her as she continued to giggle. “What cha’ laughing at?” He whispered, pressing his nose into the side of her neck. “Oh nothing-“ She turned on her back to face him. “Just something James said earlier.” Grayson frowned, his arms pushing him to sit up before he turned to stare at her. “What’d he say?” He asked in a sharp tone. Not exactly ecstatic that (Y/N) was thinking about James while she was in his arms. “That he bets he could fuck me better than you ever could.” She bit her lip, wide innocent eyes staring up into Grayson’s.

His jaw clenched as he leaned over her, his hands moving to press into the pillow at either side of her head. (Y/N) watched as his beautiful warm brown eyes darkened making her clench her thighs together. Grayson’s right hand moved cup (Y/N)’s jaw as he stared down at her. “Nobody could fuck you like I can.” He dropped his head down, lips pressing to (Y/N)’s in a firm but passion filled kiss. (Y/N)’s hands came up to the back of his neck, holding on for dear life as Grayson began to grind his hips down against hers, feeling an obvious bulge in his grey sweats.

Sitting up Grayson pulled his shirt over his head in a swift move, leaning back down to press kisses to (Y/N)’s neck as she gasped, fingers threading through his hair as she tugged gently pulling him away from her neck to look him in the eye.

“Friends don’t fuck each other Gray.” She whispered, another gasp leaving her lips as Grayson rolled his hips against her again. “We’re more than friends and you fucking know it.” He grunted pressing another heart stopping kiss against her lips.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Between the Ink and Papers Ch. 2

Summary: Steve and Peggy have been divorced for a year and Sarah is still starting to find her groove in it. However, it becomes a lot easier when she and Typhanie realize it might be time for her dad to start dating again.

Pairings: tattooartist!dad!Steve x Reader, Typhanie x Sarah, Peggy x Logan, Bucky x Natasha

Word Count: 1179 words

Warnings: Cussing! Mentions of fertility issues

Between the Ink and Papers Masterlist - Masterlist to Other Works

Previous Chapter

-.-.-.-

One of Sarah’s favorite things to do was help her dad and Uncle Bucky at Howlies Ink. The atmosphere wasn’t like a lot of other tattoo shops. People liked how relaxed it was and the look of it had a bit of everything for everyone. Sarah spun around on her stool, head bobbing to the music. When they were here, Typhanie oversaw the music and Sarah was in charge of the customers. Those were the rules.

And it worked.

“Sarah!”

She jumped, the stool coming to a screeching halt. Huffing, she hopped off and made her way to the back. Each room was designed to the artist’s style. While her dad’s was obviously her favorite, Bucky’s was cool. He had a table in the corner for sketching, artwork and photos of friends and family hung on the walls, and there were collections of old school records and radios on the walls. Sometimes he’d let returning customers pick one to listen to on the record player. She leaned against the doorframe, asking, “Yes, Uncle Buckaroony?”

Bucky tensed for a small moment, closing his eyes. Sarah didn’t bother hiding her highly entertained grin. She loved getting underneath Bucky’s skin. It was so damn easy. “Thought I told you not to call me that,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Dad said you like it. You just won’t admit it.”

Bucky grumbled something under his breath, grabbing his water off the table and taking a drink. He went back to sketching as Sarah took a seat on the chair. “Some lady called earlier saying that she and her friends are coming by.”

Sarah noticed the slight twinge of disdain in his voice. Bucky hated the ‘gaggles’ as he called them. He usually helped Sarah up front, but when it came to those types of people, he preferred just staying silent, and giving them whatever ink they wanted. “I’ll help them figure out their designs, don’t worry.” She noticed how his shoulders relaxed and glanced down at his wedding band. Maybe this wasn’t just about the gaggles. “How’s Aunt Nat doing?”

“She’s tired. Can’t say I blame her.” Bucky sounded so exhausted. Almost defeated. He ran a hand through his hair and slumped in his chair.

“Are the fertility things not taking?”

Bucky’s silence was enough of an answer for her. The two had been trying everything and it just wasn’t happening. They tried keeping her out of it because ‘Sarah’s too young for this sort of thing’, but they forgot how much she listened. “Go…straighten up the front for me, would ya?”

Get out. Please.

Sarah went to the minifridge, pulling out one of his sodas. She slipped out and made her way to the front as bell rang, signaling someone’s arrival. Did the girls already show up? Sarah glanced at her phone. It was only ten. There was no way.

“There’s my favorite girl!”

Sarah looked up and grinned from ear to ear when she saw her dad. She bolted, jumping in his arms as he squeezed her tight. He dropped the fast-food on the counter, sliding one down to Typhanie as she flipped through records. Not even looking up, she caught it and pulled her headphones down to her neck. “Thanks!”

“No prob, Typh.”

She pulled out the wrap and ate away as Sarah followed her dad around the counter. “Mom never lets me eat this late,” she muttered, grabbing her fries out of the bag.

“Well, you’re on your dad’s time now and we have weird hours.” Steve chuckled, ruffling her hair. “How’s your uncle doing?”

“He’s grouchy. Only reason he isn’t drinking is because he’s here.”

Steve sighed softly. He couldn’t say he was surprised. “What about school? How was that?” With a mouthful of fries, Sarah gave her dad a very pointed look. Steve snorted as she tried to swallow around it. “Eat like a normal person.” Hearing that, Sarah dramatically drew out every bite, sticking out her tongue. Steve grimaced, pushing her face away. “Stop.”

Sarah grinned and swallowed, grabbing her soda. “Sorry.”

Steve knew better than to believe her. And honestly, he didn’t want her to be sorry. Sarah had to deal with a lot of shit because of him and Peggy. She was allowed to enjoy herself and be ridiculous. The girl – She was just a kid. He kissed the top of her head. “Did you get your homework done?”

“Most of it.”

Steve raised a brow, giving her the same look she had given Bucky earlier. He pushed her onto the stool, grabbing her backpack and setting it on the counter. He pointed to the food, “Eat.” Then to her homework, “And finish that.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, giving him an over-exaggerated mock-salute as he headed back towards his room. Typhanie glanced from the back of his head to Sarah and shook her head, not bothering to hide her smile. “You knew you needed to get all that crap finished.”

“Not all of us can be brilliant.”

Typhanie flipped through and pulled out a new CD. “Maybe this will help you out.” She picked one out and only a couple minutes later she had The Skins playing over the speakers.

Sarah laughed as Typhanie came up behind her, resting her chin on her shoulder. “Thanks,” Sarah murmured, lightly tracing her arm as Typhanie kissed her cheek.

“No prob,  Babe. It’s not like you have trashy music taste.”

Sarah wanted to give a snappy retort, but before she got a chance the bell rang again. She looked up when she heard a lot of laughter. “Yay,” Sarah whispered under her breath, earning a nudge from Typhanie.

“Be nice. Mr. Barnes is rubbing off on you way too much.”

Sarah looked back. The girls looked nice enough. It wasn’t the typical group of giggling college girls that wanted some cliché tattoo on their ankle. They looked decent.

One was blonde and tall. She was that muscular type that had to spend almost every day at the gym or owned one. Judging by her attire, Sarah guessed it was the latter. She was way too calm. Too relaxed. But it was absolutely adorable to see the way her arm was draped around the shoulders of a much shorter woman. She wore her hair in dreads, pulled back into a ponytail. She had such a sweet smile, laughing at something the blonde had said in her ear. Aw, they’re cute!

There were also two brunettes. Sarah recognized one’s type. Worked way too hard, probably had a stick up her ass when she was at the office. But when she had a free night, she wanted to let loose. Judging by the name brand clothes, Sarah guessed lawyer. The other was decked out in red and didn’t quite match the others. Weird. She had that artist sort of vibe.

Sarah’s eyes shifted to the last person and she tensed.

She blinked once. Twice.

What?

She blinked again, rubbing her eyes. Impossible. She came face to face with someone she never would have expected in a tattoo shop.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

-.-.-.-

Sorry it’s short....

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[captainseaweedbrains]

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op.64 Chapter 1

Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition.

It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it.

But a lot can happen in six months.

Tumblr: x

Ao3: x x

April—Six Months Earlier

“Don’t be so obvious,” her music stand partner Leevy whispered in amusement, “but Peeta Mellark is staring at you again.”

“What?” Katniss looked straight up, not even pretending to be subtle, and locked eyes with the first chair trumpet player sitting directly across the room from her. His eyes widened for a moment, probably assuming she wouldn’t catch his stare with the clarinet section in front of him, but instead of looking away like a normal person would after being caught, Peeta Mellark smiled at her, his right eyebrow raising suggestively in question. Katniss gripped her flute and pointedly turned back to her music, knowing her section would be criticized next on their sloppy runs.

He liked to do that every so often during rehearsal, look at her like she was some kind of joke that amused him. Get her all flustered with those stupid eyebrows and smiles. Leevy enjoyed pointing it out all the time, drawing kissy faces with their initials in hearts on their shared music that Katniss would then furiously erase because what if someone saw that? People in band were gossipy enough with who was dating whom and who broke up with whom.

She didn’t want anyone thinking she had a crush on Peeta Mellark.

Mr. Abernathy, their band director, stepped between them on his podium, breaking any eye contact Peeta could make on her, and tapped his baton on his stand to grab everyone’s attention. “Okay, listen up, ya mangy teens! A few announcements before you all age me once more with your apparent lack of practicing. First being, next season’s field show—”

“Oh, can I say it?” Miss Trinket, their assistant director, asked, already pushing Mr. Abernathy off the podium. Miss Trinket was a small wispy woman, her height mainly due to the massive heels she sported no matter the season, but despite her title and small stature, it was clear to anyone with eyes who was in charge of any decision making for the band program.

Miss Trinket cleared her throat, smiling brightly as the room waited with anticipation. 

Marching season was one of the biggest things they did in the school year. Everyone looked forward to it and a strong field show could finally mean getting Athens Ridge High’s Marching Gladiators to finals and beating the crap out of their arch rivals: the rich snooty Capitol Heights Academy’s Imperial Marching Crusaders.

Every year they always came so close to beating them, but Capitol Heights had the money for large expensive props and Athens Ridge did not. They were lucky enough to have been able to afford new marching uniforms a few years back, replacing the threadbare grey ones with sleek black and gold. Mr. Abernathy always reminded everyone that he didn’t care about winning, nor did he give a rat’s ass about Capitol Heights and all their achievements. All he cared about was that they performed to the best of their ability and marched off the field with pride, but Katniss wanted their band to be the best. Everyone in the Athens Ridge band did.

“Can I get a drumroll, please?” Miss Trinket asked, looking pointedly to Gale in the back.

Gale rolled his eyes, but started the roll on his snare drum.

“This year’s marching show is…” Another dramatic pause.

“Will you just tell them, woman? This ain’t the Oscars,” Mr. Abernathy snapped, sick of all her flairs and dramatics. “We’re doing Romeo & Juliet. There. Now get off my podium.”

Miss Trinket held her ground, her pale features brightening under her anger, making her purple-streaked hair stand out more than usual. “Haymitch—!”

Everyone watched, entertained by yet another round of the two directors going at it once more. Katniss turned to look back at Gale, the head keeper of the betting pool, and he signed another two months before their directors would go at it like rabbits. She shook her head, laughing quietly to herself, and turned back to watch as the directors duked it out.  

“I’ve heard the music to this field show,” Leevy said after practice, cleaning out her flute. “It’s really pretty. I can see why Miss Trinket picked it.”

Katniss carefully tucked her flute back in its case, giving it one final shine before locking it shut. “You think Miss Trinket picked it?”

Leevy laughed and threw a pointed look over to where Mr. Abernathy sat slunk in his chair, stained coffee mug in hand as he scowled at some piece of paper. “I highly doubt Mr. Abernathy would choose a show like Romeo & Juliet without some heavy outside persuasion.”

She had a point there.

As they waited by the door, ready to book it the second the bell rang, Katniss and Leevy rolled their eyes at the chaos in front of them. Thresh Armstrong, a tuba player known for sneaking in toys from home, had brought out a foam football and had tossed it over to Johanna Mason, one of the smart ass percussionists, who almost crashed into the chimes trying to catch it. She held the ball up in victory and the guys around her hooted and hollered in applause. With a dramatic bow, she tossed it to Gale behind her, who caught it and called out for his girlfriend Madge to catch. Madge squealed in shock when the ball hit her in the back of the head, throwing the ball back at him in protest. 

“You’d think Abernathy would put a stop to that,” Leevy commented, laughing despite herself when the ball nailed Marvel Baxter in the face. “People can get hurt.” 

“Maybe he wants to see assholes like Marvel get hit in the face, too,” Katniss snorted, glad she got to witness it. “Do you think we’ll get to see Cato get hit in the face?” she asked, eyeing the bulky blond in the far corner with interest. 

“Doubt it.” Cato Martin was that stereotypical asshole who thought he walked on water and expected everyone to treat him as thus. And the sickening part was that people did. The school’s star quarterback was praised constantly in their school paper for his dedication to both the school’s athletic department and music department, despite being last chair in Symphonic Band and always being hounded for how bad he played by Mr. Abernathy. Despite his assholery, though, he always had a gaggle of followers around him, probably praising him for breathing. 

Katniss hated him so much, and it wasn’t just because they were locker neighbors and she was constantly having to shove him and whatever girl he was making out with off her own locker to squeeze in. Or that, since the 7th grade, he’s only referred to her as “Katnips Everslip” after a very unfortunate wardrobe malfunction at the community pool. Or even that time he taped rubber baby bottle nipples all over her locker sophomore year and only received a slap on the wrist by their dean, Mr. Flickerman, because he didn’t realize how offensive it was and he was so so sorry. Yeah, Cato sucked and she hated him for all those things and more, but she hated him most because Cato Martin was that entitled ass who just expected things to be given to him. He never faced any consequences and those were the worst kind of people.

Laughing at Marvel and his botched up nose, her eyes briefly caught Peeta’s and the amusement she felt seeing Marvel get nailed in the face vanished instantly. Every bully had that one lackey who wasn’t really an asshole, but was kind of one by association because he just went along with anything the bully did. Yeah, that lackey was Peeta Mellark. Which somehow made it even worse. She knew Peeta. Used to be friends with him in elementary school, back when your neighborhood friends were your whole world and nothing could come between you. Now he was just one of Cato’s goons who blindly followed whatever Golden Ass commanded. 

“Are you auditioning for color guard again?” Leevy asked, snapping Katniss’s attention back to her friend.

“Huh?”

Leevy’s eyes followed where hers had been and Katniss pretended not to notice the knowing smirk on her friend’s face, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve instead. “Are you trying out for color guard this year?” she asked again.  

“Of course.” Katniss flushed at her sure answer, but she always did color guard. It was kind of her thing, especially since Miss Trinket had singled her out freshman year, snatching 14-year-old Katniss off the practice field where she had been marching with her fellow flute players. “You’ve got the perfect arms,” Miss Trinket had told her and she’d been part of color guard ever since. 

“I’m hoping for captain, actually,” Katniss admitted, looking down at her beat-up sneakers. She hadn’t told anyone but Prim that, afraid she’d jinx it by putting it out in the universe too much, but going into senior year next season, she’d be the most experienced one auditioning. The odds were definitely in her favor, but the universe also had a tendency of fucking things up when she least expected it and she didn’t want to chance it.

Leevy sighed. “I wish you’d stay with the flutes. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to deal with that”—she pointed at the giggly flute players who were now fawning over Cato like lovesick puppies—"all by myself.”

Katniss gave her friend a sympathetic pat on the arm. “I’d rather shoot myself in the eye than have to deal with Golden Ass’ fan club. Why don’t you try out? You’re small, like me. I bet Miss Trinket would love that.” Their assistant director would be beside herself with joy at having another petite person in guard she could have tossed around. Miss Trinket was always complaining how there were too many tall girls nowadays and that it limited her “vision.” 

Leevy shook her head. “Oh, no. No, I don’t think I could ever do what you all do. Who would trust me to throw something in the air and expect me to catch it? And the way you did those handsprings for last year’s show?” She shook her head again in amazement. “I can’t even balance on one foot without falling. I’m nowhere near as talented as you.” 

Katniss’ cheeks darkened again at Leevy’s appraisal. Those handsprings were a bitch to grasp, she remembered, and the only reason she was the one doing them wasn’t because Trinket saw her as some talented goddess. No, it was just because everyone else was too afraid of doing them without any type of mat underneath them and Katniss wasn’t. She was about to tell her friend this—that yeah, she was pretty good with a flag and rifle, but all that can be taught and Leevy’s lack of gymnastic talent shouldn’t stop her from auditioning—when the foam football smacked her hard on the side of her head.

“What the hell?” She scanned the chaotic room for the culprit, rubbing at the spot where the ball hit. “Who threw that?” 

The culprit in question raised his hand apologetically and jogged over to pick the blue ball off the ground. Her hands balled into fists.

Peeta Mellark.

Of course.

“My bad!” he apologized, smiling down at her in that totally non-assery way that just pissed her off more. “I was trying to throw the ball to Glimmer and—” he started to explain, casually pointing behind him with his thumb.

“Your aim sucks that much?” she fumed, interrupting him. Glimmer was clear across the room by the other French horn players, far from where she and Leevy stood. “That could have hit my eye!”

There was a time, long ago, when she was once taller than him. She used to jokingly lean on Peeta while they waited in lines at school or the grocery store, calling him squirt and messing up his curly blond hair like his dad did, laughing when he’d scowl and pull away, hating that nickname. He always vowed he’d reach his growth spurt someday soon, just like his brothers, and she’d be sorry she ever called him squirt. Peeta stood almost a foot taller than her now, but she stood her ground. Glaring up at him, she considered using the old nickname, just to see if it rattled him

There was no way his aim was that bad. They’d had the same gym class for almost six years now and she knew he wasn’t terrible. Peeta was one of those guys things just came naturally to, especially sports. For years she has watched as he made the winning pass in basketball, smacked a volleyball down to score like nobody’s business, swiped the puck in during hockey. She smelled bullshit. 

This was probably some stupid dare Cato or Marvel put him up to. She eyed Marvel off to the side, still rubbing his nose. He was probably pissed at her for laughing at him and thought it’d be funny watching her get nailed in the face, too. Let’s see how hard the ball can bounce off Katnips Everslip’s tiny head! she could hear the idiots snickering. Marvel always did have a small ego. And of course, like always, Peeta just went along with it because that’s what Peeta did. Just go along with anything his friends suggested, even if meant injuring an innocent bystander.

“So why’d you throw it at me?” she point-blank asked, crossing her arms. “Did Marvel put you up to it? Cato?” 

His face quickly went from apologetic smiles to annoyance, rolling his eyes at her sneer. “You know, Katniss, believe it or not, accidents do happen.”

“Accident? Please,” she scoffed. “I know you, Peeta. You don’t do accidents. Everything you do is strategically planned and executed with exact precision. So who dared you? It was Marvel, wasn’t it?”

He looked back at his buddies and laughed, shaking his head incredulously. “I’m touched that you think I’m so robotic, Katniss, truly, but believe whatever the fuck you want. I said it was an accident because it was an accident.” 

“Just answer the question.”

“I already did.” He leaned toward her, his dark blue eyes mocking, and tapped the football on her nose with a smug smile, walking back over to his friends. Some of the guys made kissy faces at his return, laughing when Peeta shoved them to quit it, but he was laughing along with them. 

Katniss’ nails dug into her palms as she watched them, briefly wondering if someone could be glared to death. God, they were the worst.

“Wow,” Leevy breathed, watching the trumpet players, too. “The sexual tension is strong today. Felt like I was in a movie just now.” 

She turned to her friend, incredulous. “Sexual tension? With Peeta Mellark?” She gagged at the thought. “Did you not just see him be a complete ass to me? He hit me with a football!”

“Yeah and apologized for it.” Katniss rolled her eyes at the low standard bar Leevy had for apologies. Peeta’s apology was obviously fake and what about that annoying ball tap to the nose? Did she not see how condescending that was? “You two are so going to bone by the end of this year.”

The bell rang before Katniss could choke out a rebuttal.

[taeken-my-heart]

Moirai Chapter 8

Summary: On your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. It’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brushed aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. But what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake to find the name of your mortal enemy? Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Soulmates au/ Enemies to lovers au. Angst, fluff, bickering, romance, eventual smut.

Word Count: 4790

Notes: There is a read more placed after the first paragraph, but we all know tumblr is weird so if it doesn’t show up I’m sorry :(

This chapter is a big one in terms of what happens, but the next one is even bigger. This is a very brief reprieve from big angst so enjoy it while it’s here, my loves. 

**

“No, see, you can’t put a comma here because that would be a comma splice.” Jungkook said, taping the delete button on your computer and you frowned.

“I’ve never even heard the term comma splice; I think you’re making it up.”

Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head and turning to look at you, “just because you weren’t paying attention in class doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. A comma splice is when you take a comma and try to use it to connect two independent clauses. It happens often when people are trying to write something in their tone of voice and they put commas where they naturally pause, but that’s not always the right place for a comma.”

“The only Claus I know is Santa.” You deadpanned and Jungkook laughed; exhausted.

“Y/N!” He smiled and you shrugged up at him, lips peeling upwards into a grin.

“Unfortunately, I’m dead serious. I told you I’m not good at English!”

“Well you could be better if you just listened in class.” He scolded, scooting further up in his seat and you scowled, “don’t give me that look, I’ve seen you in class. You doodle a lot or read the posters around the room. You’re never actually paying attention.”

“Ah!” You clutched at your heart dramatically, “I’ve been caught!”

Jungkook laughed, leaning over to pull a notebook from his bag and you watched him curiously, the muscles in his back tightening as he dug through. “So,” you murmured as he sat back up, flipping open his notebook and glancing at you, “did you ever ask Ella out?”

He looked up at you in surprise, clearing his throat. “Ah, no, I,” he rubbed awkwardly at his wrist underneath the fabric of his sweater, “it didn’t feel right…right now. Timing, I guess.”

You frowned, shifting in your seat to face him, English assignment forgotten. “She knows you like her though, right?”

He blushed, ducking his head further into his chest, flipping to a fresh page in his book, ready to take notes. “Ah, yeah, she does.”

“So, I don’t get it, what’s the hold up?”

“It’s just…it’s complicated. Don’t try to distract me, missy, you still have to finish this assignment and I’ve only got 30 minutes left to help you, so less chatting and more working!” He scolded, glaring over at you and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Sure, sure.”

Once Jungkook had left for the night, you saved your assignment and left the office, heading up the stairs towards Ella’s room. She was leaning against her bed, headphones slid over her ears playing Snow Patrol loud enough that even you could hear the words and for a moment you felt concerned for the health of her ears.

You ventured into the room and she looked up at you from the homework in her lap, smiling and pushing her headphones off. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Mind if I join you for a minute?” You asked, fingers still on the doorknob and she nodded, patting the carpet beside her.

You made your way towards her, flopping down beside her as she turned off her music. “What brings you to my bedroom floor?” She teased and you smiled.

“I was just wondering what’s going on with you and Jungkook?” You shrugged and she smiled, lopsided and goofy.

“Oh, I mean nothing much,” she admitted, bashful, “he admitted that he likes me, but said he feels a little weird now that he’s got his soulmate tattoo. What a romantic, right?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “He’s so dramatic.”

“Right?” She laughed, “Anyway, I told him we can just be friends for now, but I think once the tattoo settles and stops hurting, he’ll kind of forget about it and we can date. It’s not like he even knows her.”

You nod, picking at the carpet. “True. Plus, the whole soulmate thing is stupid. The universe dictates one person to make you happy forever? What a load.”

“I don’t know,” Ella smiles, “I believe it. That doesn’t mean I don’t also believe someone else can make you happy in the meantime, until you find your soulmate.”

“That’s awful, though. Then you’re just a place holder. Wouldn’t you hate that? You know Jungkook is a romantic, he’s said he definitely wants to be with his soulmate when he meets her so then where does that leave you?”

Ella pouted, drumming her fingers on her book. “I know, but it would be fun while it lasted.”

“Trust me, the pain isn’t worth it.” You smiled tight, mind flashing to Lucas. Time was like a balm and it had already been two weeks since you and Lucas had broken up. Why you and your sister hadn’t talked about this earlier was beyond you and you began to realize that Jungkook was probably right, the two of you didn’t talk enough.

Ella frowned, grabbing hold of your hand. “I’m sorry about Lucas. You’re right, the pain probably isn’t worth it, but I just really like him!”

“I know you do,” you nodded, sighing and leaning your head back against her bed, “When did Jungkook tell you he liked you? Two weeks ago?”

“Well, that’s when he admitted out loud that he liked me, but he’s been hinting at it for a while. I think I started noticing at the beginning of the school year, he was just paying me more attention, talking to me more. When we started hanging out, he started confiding in me. Did you know he broke up with Rachel the night of his birthday party?”

“Oh?” You hummed in surprise, lifting your head from her blanket, “I didn’t know that, actually.”

“Yeah, I don’t think a lot of people knew because Rachel’s whole family was out of town for like a month after and he didn’t really talk about it. After they broke up, Jungkook came over and asked if we could talk on the porch. It was just before 11 so the rest of you were already in bed, I think. I snuck outside and we talked for a while and he told me all about it. She’s kind of horrible, said all sorts of mean things to him.”

“Really? Like what?”

Ella sighed, pushing her books off her lap and folding her legs underneath her body. “Told him he was boring and stupid, that kind of stuff, but then she started dissing his family, too. I don’t think she’s ever been broken up with so she just kind of lost it. Insulted his dad’s broken English, which is just such a low blow. Uncle Jinhyun has worked really hard and he speaks more languages than her crusty ass!”

You chuckled and she smiled softly, shrugging. “Anyway, he was pretty upset about that so we talked about it and he held my hand and told me how I was smart and pretty and any guy would be lucky to have me and then he kissed me on the cheek and went home. I kind of knew then that he was interested in more than friendship, but he’d just broken up with Rachel so he needed time to get over that, you know? Plus, then he got his soulmate tattoo like half an hour later so I think it was just a lot.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “but, to be fair, he wasn’t devoted to Rachel or anything. He told me a little while ago that she was kind of a rebound so he probably wasn’t too upset about the breakup. Especially since he’s the one that did it.” “That’s true,” Ella admitted, dropping her pencil into her lap and stretching her fingers absentmindedly. “His feelings were hurt, though. By everything she said, I mean. I feel really bad for him. Don’t tell him I said anything, but I think getting his soulmate tattoo kind of scared him.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Just,” she paused, attempting to gather her thoughts. “His whole life he’s hearing about soulmates and about how his parents are so happy and he wants that too, right? Then he gets his tattoo and it’s just shocking, it’s probably nothing like you expect, you know? And then you’re faced with the reality; a real person’s name on your wrist and sometime during your life you’re gonna meet them and that’s it forever. Kind of scary, I guess.”

“Didn’t know Jeon Jungkook could scare.” You teased and Ella smiled softly at you.

“Everyone scares sometimes, even Jungkook.”

You stared down at the ground, fingers twisting together in your lap. “Yeah, I guess.” You sighed, standing up and stretching your legs. “I’m gonna head to my room now. Maybe read a book before bed or something.”

“Adventurous.” Ella teased, winking at you. You smiled, nodding and walking from her room, closing the door just as she slipped her head phones back over her ears.

**

Sometimes your life was like the movies. Not in the fun ways, though. No mysterious, sexy, and broody stranger to whisk you away on his motorcycle while the screen faded to black. No, more like you played the tambourine in music class because you were musically challenged and Mr. Sabisco didn’t want a repeat of last year’s Christmas concert.

You didn’t blame him, honestly.

It wasn’t all bad, either. You got to mostly sit in the back and slap the tambourine against your hand to a 4-count rhythm so no harm no foul. You spent most of the class day dreaming and letting muscle memory take over. There was only one week left until your birthday and you were becoming more anxious at the thought. Your mom desperately wanted to throw you a soulmate party and stay up until midnight to watch the name appear, but honestly, you’d never heard something more unappealing in your life. 

If you were forced to have some rando’s name on your wrist, you at least wanted to have the moment be a private one. It wasn’t really a celebration for you, though you couldn’t lie to yourself…you were at least a little curious. Everyone you knew who was with their soulmate was happy. 

It was hard to imagine just getting together with a person whose name matched the tattoo on your body and being happy…but you supposed the odds were in your favor, considering the rest of the world seemed to be doing just fine. Still, you didn’t particularly like it. 

The song ended and you let the tambourine rest in your lap, Mr. Sabisco prattling on about the details of the upcoming holiday concert. It was going to be even bigger than last year, with all the music classes from every grade level performing the same songs together as well as the students he private tutored having a song of their own. 

You could see Moira Smith in the front row puff out her chest with pride at the mention of her name as the grand finale with the choir to back her up and you wanted to roll your eyes. She was a snob about her singing and not one single person cared.

After class you made your way towards lunch, meeting up with Noelle in the hallway at her locker. Lillian’s class was on the other side of the building so the three of you would just meet up in the lunch line. “Just a few more days until your birthday.” Noelle commented, slamming her locker closed and popping her gum.

You flinched and glared at her. “How do you always get away with chewing gum in class?”

“I’m really good at hiding it under my tongue.” She shrugged. “You sure you don’t want to have a party? It doesn’t need to be a soulmate party like your mom wants, I get it, it freaks you out. But don’t you want to just have a regular party with your friends.”

“Wow, party of three, sounds fun.” You scoffed and Noelle smacked your arm, pushing the doors to the lunch room open and you followed her over to the line. Lillian was already a few people ahead of you and she smiled and waved before turning forward again.

“Don’t be rude. It’s always just the three of us and you’ve never had trouble having fun before.”

“I know, I know.” You sighed, grabbing an aging blue, grey tray and stepping forward in the line. “This one just feels different. There’s a lot of pressure and I just kind of want to be left alone.”

“I mean, I don’t really get it, but I respect it. If that’s what you want to do, then that’s what you should do. It’s your birthday so you should have things the way you like them.”

“Thanks, Noelle.” You smiled. Lifting your tray so the lunch lady could give you your pick of lunch for the day.

After the two of you had met Lillian at your usual table, you mostly sat and ate quietly while your two friends chatted about whatever had happened in their last class. You scanned the room, taking note of the fact that Ella was sitting with Jungkook and his friends while Rachel had moved a few tables away with her own friends, scowl drawn across her features. 

You felt a little bad for her, it wasn’t really her fault that she’d mostly been a rebound. Sure, she was witchy and a little bit of a ditz, but it must have hurt her to watch her ex-boyfriend move on so quickly. Not that Jungkook and Ella were even dating, but to Rachel, you imagine even sitting with another girl was in the same sphere. 

You knew what it felt like to lose someone you cared about to someone else and it sucked. You wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.

**

A few days later, after depositing your bag in your room and making your way to the kitchen for an afternoon snack, your mother stopped you in the hallway, clasping an earring in one ear, head tilted as she looked at you.

“You have tutoring with Jungkook soon, right?” At your nod, she continued, “Will you take this over to him, it’s something I’ve been meaning to give to his mother. Also, remind him they’re coming over for dinner. His parents will be coming here straight from the office so I don’t want him to forget and be alone.”

“Ay ay, Captain.” You nodded, taking the small bag your mother handed you and skipping down the stairs. You didn’t want to eat anything too heavy because you would be having dinner in a few hours anyway, but a sandwich couldn’t hurt in keeping the hunger pangs away for a little bit.

You made yourself a quick sandwich before making your way to the office to grab the stuff you’d left there from the day before and out the door into the late afternoon, coat bundled tight around you as you made the two-minute walk to Jungkook’s house.

He greeted you at the door in a grey on grey sweat pant combo, hair swept back from his forehead and looking more handsome than should ever be allowed. You swallowed a bite of sandwich, way too large to do so comfortably and you coughed, beating your chest as it burned its way down your esophagus. 

“You ok there?” Jungkook asked, eyebrow rising as he watched you struggle your way through a task as blindingly simple as chewing your food.

“Fine.” You rasped, throat constricting painfully around air and you waved him in, following after him into the house and closing the door behind yourself. 

“Did you do what I told you to last time?” He questioned, making his way into the living room where he’d set up a make shift office with a foldable table and his laptop. 

You reached into your folder, pulling out the paper you’d printed last night and sat next to Jungkook as he flopped on the couch, scanning the paper quietly while you waited. As much as you hated to admit it, his help in English had been invaluable. Not only were you passing the class, but you were actually doing really well and you had him to thank for it. 

“This is really good,” he said after a while, sitting up straighter and placing the paper on the table next to his laptop, “I’ve got just a couple more corrections but then I think it will be ready to turn in. You’ve got the USB, right?” He asked, holding his hand out towards you. You grabbed the USB from your pocket, handing it to him and he slid it into the computer, loading the paper on his screen.

“When we’re done with this, we should celebrate.” Jungkook said, sliding his finger along the mouse pad as he moved the word document to where he wanted it.

“How?” You asked and he shrugged.

“We’ll figure something out. OK, so I’m gonna mark the things I want to work on in yellow and then we’ll get started talking about how you think it could be even better and we’ll go from there.”

**

After spending the next hour going through your work and ironing out the kinks, you were actually excited to turn in an assignment for once. This was probably the best paper you’d ever written and aside from Jungkook’s (admittedly invaluable) guidance, you’d written it by yourself. You didn’t think there’d ever been a time before when you could say you were proud of something you’d written.

Jungkook stood up, stretching and walked to the other side of the room, searching through the bookcase while you put your paper and USB away. It was nearly time to head home and help your mom make dinner.

“Hey, do you like music?” Jungkook asked, walking back towards you as he stared down at one of his father’s old records and you frowned. 

“What kind of a dumb question is that?” You scoffed. “Of course, I like music.”

“I’m not talking about today’s stuff; I’m talking about real music.”

“OK, snobby.” You laughed and he grinned, holding up the record for you to see. “The Temptations? Never heard of them.”

“Shut your mouth!” Jungkook gasped, making his way to the record player. “Don’t you worry, we’re gonna right this wrong right now.”

“I wasn’t really worried.” You mumbled, watching as he placed the record on the turntable and grabbed the needle to start the song. You stood up, making your way over to where he stood.

The record player scratched to life, an upbeat tempo filling the room and Jungkook closed his eyes, body swaying to the beat. “This song is my favorite of theirs. It wasn’t their most popular, which I don’t get because it just makes you wanna dance.”

“What’s it called?” You asked, dragging your finger idly across the desk as you watched him sway and his eyes blink open to look over at you. 

“It’s called “Get Ready.” Here, dance.” He said, coming around to your side of the table and grabbing your hand.

You frowned, shaking your head and trying to pull back. “I don’t dance, Jungkook. I’m bad at it.”

“Me too.” He grinned and you glared at him.

“You’re on the schools dance team. Don’t lie.”

He laughed, shaking his head and pulling you further into the center of the living room. “Come on, there’s nothing to it. Just throw your hands up in the air and move your hips and feet.” He pushed your arms above your head and grabbed at your hips, making them twist as you tried to awkwardly sway back and forth.

  “I feel like an idiot.” You pouted and he grinned.

“Just close your eyes and pretend like no one’s watching.” He said, twisting his hips in a way that made you giggle.

“You’re watching.” You insisted and he smiled, eyes slipping closed.

“Better?”

You sighed, shaking your arms out nervously before starting to twist your body in earnest, trying to find the rhythm in your hips. You closed your eyes tight, lips clenched together as you concentrated on the music. It was lively and fun, a song you’d definitely heard before, though not often and you’d not known who sung it. Your arms rose above your head subconsciously and you could feel your lips peeling slowly into a smile. It felt nice to let loose; at least for a moment.

“There you go.” You could hear Jungkook’s smile before you opened your eyes to see it. He was dancing in earnest now, arms flung in front of his chest as he shook his hands back and forth and you laughed, continuing to dance along to the music until the song ended and you stopped to catch your breath. 

Just then you heard your phone ringing from the couch and you ran to dig through the pillows where it had fallen, pulling it out and sliding to answer. 

“Hello?” You asked, holding the phone close to your ear as you watched Jungkook take the record from the record player and delicately put it back in its sleeve and on the shelf with his dad’s other records. “Yeah, I’ll head back now. OK, bye.” You hung up, sliding your phone in the back pocket of your jeans.

Jungkook looked over at you, shaggy hair hanging over the edge of his eyebrows and he smiled softly. “Your mom?”

“Yeah, I gotta go help her get ready for dinner.” You grabbed your folder, sliding it into the crook of your elbow. “You’re still coming, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He said softly, coming to stand in front of you. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

**

Once the Jeon’s had arrived, both of your families made way into the kitchen to grab plates and pile them high. You let the greed of your eyes decide for you, piling your plate far higher than necessary and Jungkook smirked at you from across the island.

“Hungry?” He grinned and you frowned.

“Don’t judge me, Jeon!”

He held up a hand as surrender and Ella giggled from beside him, her plate practically empty next yours as she plucked a few spoonfuls of rice onto it. 

“You’re so dramatic, Y/N.” She teased.

“All I’m saying is let me live my dreams.” You huffed, finishing off your plate with a roll and Ella laughed, following you to the table with Jungkook traipsing behind.

“So, Y/N” Jieun started, as everyone finally sat down to eat, “It’s almost your birthday! Are you going to have a soulmate reveal?”

A loud crash ripped through the air from the end of the table and you all looked at Jungkook who hissed, rubbing at his knee. “Uh, sorry…hit my knee.”

His mother chuckled, swatting at him, “be careful, you big lump.” She then trained her vision back on you and you pushed at your mashed potatoes in discomfort.

“Actually, I just wanted to have it be a pretty private thing.”

“Oh, so just your family and us? Well, that’s OK, you don’t need to have a big party to celebrate. We can still be there to cheer you on all the same.”

“Mom.” Jungkook whined softly under his breath and she glanced over at him, “leave her alone. She wants to spend her birthday in private. As in by herself.”

“Well surely not without her family?” She asked in surprise, turning to look at her best friend and then back at you, “your family will be there with you at least? It’s a very special moment in a person’s life, after all.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “actually, I just want to be alone during that moment. I don’t really believe in the soulmate thing, I guess. I mean, I know it’s real and that a name will appear on my wrist, but I think it’s pretty contrived that, that person is just supposed to magically be everything I’ve ever wanted.” You shrug as your voice quiets, taking note of the shock on both of Jungkook’s parents faces.

He himself had gone eerily quiet, chewing absentmindedly on his pot roast, eyes shifting anywhere else in the room and you realized with a sigh that he was done helping you try to distract his mother.

“Y/N’s always been peculiar about this sort of thing,” your mother chuckled good naturedly, “Never really liked the whole soulmate birthday party thing, though we’ve definitely tried to pique her interest.”

“It’s OK if she’s not interested!” Ella insisted, smiling as all eyes shifted to her. “I think it’s kind of cool that she wants to keep it private, like her own special little secret.”

You smiled over at your sister as a thank you and conversation resumed on new topics, though Jungkook was oddly quiet for most of the dinner, only really speaking when spoken to. You wondered what his parents thought of him getting his own tattoo. As far as you knew, no one but him even knew the name on his wrist. He was private about it for a different reason than you wanted to be private about your own. It must have made them sad to not share in that moment with him.

Perhaps your parents would feel sad too. You just couldn’t bring yourself to change your mind, though. If you could, you’d make sure the tattoo never appeared; that way you could choose completely for yourself how you got to live your life. If you could.

**

The night before your 18th birthday probably should have been more exciting than it was. This year your birthday fell on a Saturday and as such, you were wearing the fluffiest pajamas you owned, curled under a blanket with your laptop balanced on your lap, pulling up Netflix to binge watch a show to take you into the early morning hours of the weekend when your life would suddenly change completely.

It was an interesting juxtaposition, turning 18. You were about to have a name appear on your wrist that would impact the rest of your life, but until you met that person, your life would stay exactly the same. It was terrifying and comforting all at the same time. You had half an hour until midnight and currently your parents were in bed and Ella was downstairs in the kitchen having a late-night snack.

You rubbed at your wrist anxiously, skimming through the titles of the movies you could watch. You needed something light hearted and funny; something that would take your mind off this stupid soulmate situation.

Twenty minutes into the movie and with only ten minutes until your birthday, your wrist began to tingle. You frowned, covering your wrist with your hand and trying to ignore it. Your parents had told you that it would hurt a little when your tattoo first came and that the ache would last a few days. Just a nice little reminder of the situation you had no control over. Every minute that ticked by, your heart raced faster and your wrist burned more.

You were so anxious you almost couldn’t sit still; a wave of anxiety building so high you thought you might scream. You’d never felt what claustrophobia was like, but you could imagine it was much like this. Just trapped in a situation you couldn’t get out of. 

You wanted to cry by one minute to twelve. The stinging was intense and your anxiety was through the roof. You hadn’t bothered to look at your wrist yet, you knew that the black of the tattoo was already starting to show but you were terrified to see it. Eyes bleary from pain, you tried to focus on your breathing. This was not at all what you were expecting. Staring up at the ceiling in the dark, laptop now abandoned on the side of your bed, you laid back against your pillow, blinking away the tears. At 12:01 the pain began to dull and you sighed, breath shuddery as you wiped the tears from your cheeks.

Sitting up sluggishly, you pulled your laptop back into your lap, allowing the light from the screen to illuminate your area. Releasing a deep breath, you lifted the sleeve of your pajama top and felt your stomach drop, room suddenly tilting on its axis.

You’d never felt more nauseous and confused in your life. It must have been incorrect, there was no possible way. Blinking down at your wrist again you felt like your world had shattered, a million pieces dangling in the air around you as you sat frozen. A nightmare you didn’t know you were living.

The only name you’d never expected to appear on your wrist was there, blinking up at you in a crisp, black scrawl.

Jeon Jungkook.

**

Oh my gosh! This was your small reprieve, haha, next chapter is gonna be a big one (obviously) so strap in! I’ll be writing a mini chapter from Jungkook’s point of view when he got his tattoo starting immediately and then get working on chapter 9. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts and opinions. <3

Chapter 7

Chapter 9

Copyright © 2018  by taeken-my-heart (Nora.) All rights reserved.

[dlwritings]

Firecracker Soul | Dean Winchester

Chapter 13 - Unwrapped

pairing - mob!Dean x teacher!ofc

word count - 5,636

warnings - language, descriptions of physical abuse, oral (f receiving) unprotected sex (don’t be silly, protect your willy), fingering, daddy kink

additional notes at the end

(previous)

The only time Alice's parents could do dinner was the following Friday. She was excited but also inexplicably nervous. Her dads were great and she loved them both, and she knew her dad had said he had calmed Mark down enough when it came to the age difference, but what if that changed when they met him? They could be very opinionated, and Dad definitely didn't keep those opinions to himself.

So, she did the only thing a girlfriend could do. She prepped Dean.

"Okay," she said. "Call them both Mr. Berkley when you meet them, but Mark will likely tell you to use his first name from then on. Dad'll take a minute longer to warm up, but he'll get there too. Talk about your car. Anything about cars. They'll love that. And your music. You can bond over your music, because I know they listen to the same kind of stuff. Just, try not to age yourself."

"Oh?" Dean said with a laugh. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means-" She hesitated. "-they know you're older than me, but, I don't know. Just try not to make it obvious."

"How would I make it obvious?" he asked, amused.

"Ugh, I don't know," she groaned. "I'm just stressed out. I haven't brought a guy to them since-" She cut herself off. "It's been a long time." Dean smiled and kissed her cheek. They were sitting on the couch in her apartment, killing some time before they needed to head over for dinner. She had already packed a bag so they could go to Dean's afterward. Anytime she had the chance to sleep there, she would take it. His bed was like sleeping on a cloud, plus she loved making breakfast at his place. His kitchen was so much bigger and nicer than hers.

"Okay, okay," he said. "Not obvious. I can do that." He paused, making an expression like he was considering something. "So I take it they don't know you call me daddy?" She raised her eyebrows as he pulled her onto his lap, holding her hips tightly.

"You think you're pretty funny, don't you?" she said.

"Actually, I think I'm hilarious."

"Yeah, well, try that joke on my dads," she said. "I think they'd both kill you."

"Mm, I'd like to see them try."

"Ha. So would I."

Dean licked his lips and eyed her outfit. She kept her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "You know," he said, "what you're wearing is pretty unfair."

"Oh?" she said. "Why's that?"

"Well," he said slowly, "if it was a skirt-" He started kissing her neck, and she sighed and tilted her head to the side. "-I'd be able to finger fuck you under the table at dinner." He chuckled. "I can just see you, gripping the kitchen table so tight your knuckles would turn white. You'd be biting your lip, praying neither of them would ask why your cheeks were so red. Why you weren't eating. Why you looked so flustered." Alice swallowed thickly and started rolling her hips against his.

"Dean," she whined.

"But I can't," he said with a dramatic sigh, "because you're wearing this little number." He tugged at the sleeve of her jumpsuit. "And what really sucks is we don't have time for me to take care of you now. Look at the time." She forced her eyes open and looked at the clock. He was right. If they didn't leave right then, they'd be late.

"I, I don't care," she stuttered out. "They can wait."

Dean chuckled. "See, you want me to make you cum, and usually, I would be all for it, but then what am I supposed to do when I wind up hard as a rock before dinner with your dads?" She sighed and buried her face in his neck.

"You really suck," she whispered. "Did you know that? Did you know you're the worst?" He chuckled and squeezed her ass, then gave it a playful swat. She took a sharp breath and rolled her hips against his. She felt her heart drop to her stomach, and Dean tentatively moved a hand to her ass again, squeezing it gently.

"Did you like that?" he asked. She let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Oh, fuck Alice," he groaned. "Alright. We gotta go before I do something I can't take back." She whined and wouldn't remove herself from his lap.

"No," she said. "Don't want to." Dean's jaw clenched, her disobedience stirring something inside him.

"Sweetheart," he said. "I'm not asking. Off." She sighed and hopped off his lap, sitting back on the couch with her arms folded across her chest. Dean stood up and looked at her, his jaw still set. "Let's go," he said. "Now."

She huffed. "You're no fun." He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of her head, and barely ghosting his lips over hers.

"If you keep acting like a brat," he said, "I'll have to spank that pout away, you understand?" She pressed her thighs together, and he placed a peck to her lips and pulled away, standing up straight and holding his hand out for her to take. His tense expression had vanished and was replaced with an arrogant smirk.

God, he was good. They hadn't even had sex yet and he was already threatening a kinky punishment. And the threat worked.

Alice's dads met Dean and Alice at the front door. She completely abandoned Dean in the car and ran up to them, wrapping her arms around them both in a hug. "Oh, you're gonna break your old man," Aaron laughed. She just smiled and kissed him on the cheek, then did the same for Mark. She looked at both of them, focusing more on Aaron.

"Be nice," she said.

"I'm always nice," Aaron said. Mark just chuckled and folded his arms across his chest as Dean approached them.

"Dad, Mark," she said, putting her arm around Dean's waist, "this is my boyfriend, Dean." Dean reached out to shake both men's hands, Aaron's first and then Mark's.

"Mr. Berkley," Dean said, "Mr. Berkley."

"Call me Mark," the man said, just as Alice expected he would. Aaron, on the other hand, just gave Dean a smile. "It's nice to meet you," he said.

"You as well," Dean said, looking at both Aaron and Mark. Alice let out a nervous chuckle.

"Alright," she said. "Let's go inside. What's for dinner?"

"I thought I'd grill some burgers," Aaron said. "You can help Mark make some of his fries. I made potato salad earlier."

"You're going all out," she teased.

"Well, we have a guest," Aaron teased back. "We can't just serve frozen pizza."

"Careful," she said back. "At his family dinners, he serves Chinese takeout."

Dean scoffed. "It was one time!"

While she and Mark worked on cutting the potatoes and making his homemade fries, Dean stood outside with Aaron around the grill, drinking beer and chatting. "He's handsome," Mark said, his tone light and teasing. She giggled and bumped her hip with his.

"I told you," she said. "And I swear, he's so sweet. You'll really like him."

"If he makes you this happy, I already like him."

Alice scoffed. "And Dad?"

Mark chuckled. "Give him an hour and one conversation about that car you drove in, and he'll be good."

Outside, Dean and Aaron were talking. They had, in fact, already discussed the beauty that was the Impala, and after a lull in the conversation, Aaron said, "You should hear the way she talks about you. I can tell she really likes you." Dean looked inside through the window at Alice and Mark and couldn't help but smile. They were peeling potatoes and laughing with each other. Alice caught his eye through the glass and gave him a smile.

"I like her too," he said, looking back at Aaron. "A lot." Aaron nodded and took another sip of his beer.

"You two are at different stages in your lives," Aaron said. "You have almost twenty years on her, right?"

"Yes sir," Dean said. Quickly, he added, "But the age difference doesn't bother either of us." Aaron chuckled which made Dean look at him. He closed the lid of the grill and turned to face Dean.

"Has Alice told you much about her mom?" he asked.

Dean shook his head no. "She told me she never met her. She died giving birth. She was about her age when she had her."

"Mhm," Aaron hummed. "And I'm 61. How's your math?" It was a rhetorical question. "I was just a couple years younger than you."

"I had no idea," Dean said. "Alice never told me."

Aaron just smiled. "I know what it's like to fall in love with someone and have everyone think they're too young for you. You're convinced they're wrong because you have your rose colored glasses on. Everything seems perfect, and everyone who disagrees just doesn't understand, right?"

"All due respect," he said, "we're not naive, sir. Things may feel perfect now, but we know that's not forever. But whatever happens, whatever comes, we'll handle it. This isn't just an adventure for me. I care about her." Aaron gave a small smile and folded his arms across his chest.

"Alice is a lot like her mom," he said. "She loves very easily, and she cares with everything in her. But she's got that-" He chuckled. "-I always called it a firecracker soul. There's a lot of spunk behind how shy she seems, and it comes out so suddenly, you never see it coming. She's a lot stronger than she looks, and she'll stand up for the people she loves. But-" He hesitated. "What has she told you about her ex-boyfriend?"

Dean shrugged. "Not much. He didn't want her to go to grad school. That's it."

Aaron sighed. "He wasn't a good guy, but he was one of those people she fought for because she loved him, and it bit her in the ass." The memory clearly didn't sit right with Aaron, because he hung his head, cleared his throat, and looked up at Dean again. "If I ever find out that you hurt her in any way, you won't live to see another day, do you understand me?"

Dean knew Aaron was playing the protective father, and even though he could kill Aaron much faster than the other way around, he respected him. "Yes sir," Dean said. Aaron stuck out his hand to Dean, and he took it and gave it a firm shake.

Dinner was so much better than Alice thought it was going to be. They laughed throughout the entire meal, and Alice could tell Aaron and Mark both genuinely liked Dean. He was saying all the right things, and it made her wonder how many girls' parents he had met before. Still, she decided not to dwell. Things were going well, and there was no need for her to think about that mysterious Lisa girl again.

Dean kept his hand on Alice's thigh all night, rubbing circles over the fabric, and it made her mind wander. She had made a decision earlier in the day, and his touch wasn't helping her calm her nerves over it. She was desperate to leave, to get back to his apartment. When Dean's hand slid so far up her thigh that she couldn't handle it any longer, she cleared her throat and stood up from the table. "Well," she said, "this has been so fun, but I think it's time to head out." Aaron and Mark nodded and walked the pair to the front door. Alice hugged both of them, and Dean shook each of their hands.

"Mr. Berkley, Mark," he said, "it was great to meet you both."

"You too," Aaron said. "And call me Aaron."

When they were a sufficient distance away from her parents' house, Alice leaned over and pressed a kiss to Dean's cheek. He chuckled and looked at her, and she slid over on the bench seat so she could lean her head on his shoulder as he drove. "What's that for, sweetheart?" he asked. She smiled.

"I'm just really glad that all went well," she said. He kissed the top of her head before looking back at the road.

"Me too."

They got to Dean's house not too long after, said hello to Derek, and headed up to the penthouse. "You want some wine?" he asked. She nodded and plopped on the couch in the living room while she waited. He came over and handed her the glass, which she took with a quiet thank you and sipped from right away. Dean sat next to her, and she half expected him to turn on the TV. Instead, he turned slightly and rested his arm on the back of the couch.

"I was talking to your dad," he said, "and he mentioned your ex." Alice tensed immediately and took another sip of her wine. This was not a way to get in the mood. "What was his name?" Dean asked.

She cleared her throat and looked down at her glass. "Greg." Dean nodded and put his own glass down.

"How often did he hit you?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up. "What are you talking about?" she asked, acting completely clueless.

"You flinch when I raise my voice and sometimes even when I touch you," he said, "and you apologize for everything. It's not hard to put the pieces together. I know you say he wasn't supportive of you going to grad school, but your dad made it seem like it was more than that. Like I said, I can see it in the way you act." She couldn't tell if he was annoyed that she wasn't answering him or pitying her for ever having been in that situation. She didn't like it either way. Still, she sighed.

"Whenever he was mad, I guess," she said. "He told me he had depression, and if he was having a really bad spiral, everything made him angry. Honestly, I think that was just his excuse. It all got worse the longer we were together. It was like he was mad more than he was happy." She didn't realize she was shaking until Dean reached out and held her hand. "It shouldn't be a big deal," she said. "It was a long time ago."

"How long ago?" Dean asked. She clenched her jaw and hung her head.

"Just under two months," she said. "That's why I moved here. I was with him in New York, but it got too bad, so I ran. I moved here in August, a month before school started."

"How bad was it?" Dean asked.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "I was admitted to the hospital a few times," she said. "Just for concussions and stuff. He tried not to do anything where people might see."

"Is that where-" He hesitated.

"What?" she asked.

"Your scar," he said. "The one I saw the other day. Did he give that to you?" She swallowed thickly, then nodded.

"He was mad," she said. "It was when I first told him I wanted to apply for grad school, and he told me it was a waste of time. I got upset, and I told him that he needed to let me live my own life. I guess-" She laughed sadly. "-that was the wrong thing to say, because he pushed me against the wall. He started choking me, but I kicked him in the crotch. I tried to run, but he got his hands on me and threw me against a table. The corner hit me in the side. He didn't want to deal with the aftermath, so he left me there. I had to call 911."

"You didn't press charges?"

"No," she scoffed. "I never even thought about it."

"Why?"

She clenched her jaw and shook her head, then looked down at her hands. "You don't know what it's like," she whispered, "to be a victim like that. I just kept finding excuses for it or brushing it off as my own fault. I thought he would get better, and every time he said he was sorry. It was so much easier to believe him than question it everyday."

When Alice was quiet for a few minutes, Dean rubbed her rib where he knew the scar was under her jumpsuit, and she instinctively jumped. "Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be," Dean said. "You've got nothing to be sorry for." She felt her lower lip quiver, and tears were quickly forming in her eyes.

"I hate how weak he made me feel," she admitted. "Most of the time, I would just, I would just lay on the ground and let him hurt me. After a while I didn't even fight him." A few tears escaped her eyes, and Dean brushed them away with his thumbs.

"It's okay," he said gently. He held her close to him and placed a kiss to the top of her head. "I would never, ever hurt you. I would never lay a hand on you in any way without your consent, okay?" She nodded and closed her eyes, relaxing in his comforting embrace. Dean made her feel safe. She didn't care if the world saw him as a dangerous mob boss. With her, he was gentle and sweet. With her, he was just Dean. She knew he would never hurt her.

Alice looked up at him and put her hand on the back of his head, pushing her lips to his. Dean was startled for a moment but quickly put his hands on her waist. She adjusted herself so she was straddling his waist, and she lightly bit his bottom lip to deepen the kiss. When Dean felt her reach for the hem of his t-shirt, he pulled away, keeping his forehead pressed to hers. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low. She closed her eyes and swallowed nervously.

"I want you, Dean," she said. Dean licked his lips and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I want you to be sure."

"I am sure," she said. She lightly ground her hips against his, and he growled and gripped them tighter. "Please, Dean." He nodded and pressed his lips to hers, easing his tongue into her mouth. She whimpered and kissed him harder, feeling desperation for him build in her stomach. She wanted this. She wanted him.

"Okay, sweetheart," he said, pulling his lips away. She whined and tried to kiss him again which only made him chuckle. "Okay, okay, easy. Let's go to the bedroom, okay?" She nodded, so the two of them stood up and walked over to the bedroom, Dean holding her hand the whole way. He could tell she was nervous, and he wanted to put her at as much ease as he could. His thumb was rubbing her hand, and he gave it a squeeze as soon as they crossed into the bedroom.

He laid her onto the bed and crawled on top of her, kissing her gently. She threaded her fingers in his hair, and Dean had both hands pressed against the mattress on either side of her head. Even the way Alice was kissing him back made it clear she was nervous. He pulled away. "We don't have-"

"I know," she said, cutting him off. "I told you. I want to. I'm so sure. I'm just-" She hesitated. "I'm just a little nervous."

"It's okay," he said, kissing her neck. "I promise I'll be gentle. And if you at any point change your mind and want to stop, you tell me and we can stop." She nodded, and Dean kissed her lips again. He pulled away to look at her, and when she gave him a nod, he worked to pull her jumpsuit off her body. Her bra was baby pink and lacy, and it made Dean's mouth water, and her panties matched. They were satin and lace and had a pink bow on the front. He smiled and left an open-mouthed kiss over her underwear, right where a wet patch was already forming.

"All wrapped up with a pretty little bow," Dean muttered, his lips tickling her. "Can I unwrap now?"

"Yes," she breathed out. "Please."

"Good girl," he hummed. "Using your manners." She nodded and lifted her hips so he could easily slide her underwear off. "Take your bra off for me, sweetheart," he said. She did as he said and tossed it aside. He smiled up at her and kissed each of her thighs. She whined again, and Dean chuckled before slowly dipping his tongue past her folds. She breathed out -almost in relief- and tugged her fingers through his hair. He growled when she tugged particularly roughly, and he pressed his face closer to her, scratching her thighs with his beard. His licks were slow, each one adding more pressure than the last. She felt his thumbs spread her lips apart as if trying to give himself more access to go even deeper. When his tongue started circling her clit, he pushed a finger inside her, wiggling it a bit before soon adding a second.

"Hm," she hummed. "Daddy, please."

"Please what?" he asked, giving her clit another flick with his tongue.

"Just," she sighed, squeezing her eyes shut.

"I want to hear you say it," he whispered. "What do you want daddy to do, sweetheart?"

She sighed and kept her eyes shut, putting her hands over her face. Dean kept his fingers inside her but scooted up so his lips were next to her ear. "It's okay," he whispered. "Why don't you just tell me this: Do you want daddy to fuck you? To fill you up with his cock? Is that what you want?" She sighed and moved her hands, putting one of them on his head so she could tug at his hair.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes. That's what I want. Please." Dean chuckled and placed a quick kiss to her cheek.

"Okay," he said. "We'll work on you using your words another time." She nodded, and he peppered kisses down her body again, keeping his fingers moving inside her. He finally pulled them out of her and brought them up to his lips, sucking them clean. He tugged his shirt over his head while she pressed her thighs together to try and sooth the aching a bit. Dean tutted and pulled her legs apart. "Want you to keep them open for me," he said, leaning down to kiss her lips. "I'm gonna go get a condom, okay?"

"Wait," she said, grabbing his arm before he could go away. "I- I'm actually on the pill." Dean raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. She blushed and licked her lips. "It helps regulate my period," she said with a shrug. He then licked his lips and hung his head a bit. "I mean, you can still get a condom if you want," she said. "I just didn't know if-" Dean cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. She was shocked, and he pulled back and sighed.

"It's up to you, sweetheart," he said. "I'm clean and I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you are too." She bit her lip, and Dean stroked her cheek.

God, it would feel so good to fuck her raw.

Alice nodded and put her hand over his. "Okay," she said. "It's okay. Don't use one."

Dean closed his eyes and mouthed, "Fuck," before leaning down to press his lips to hers again. He pulled away and tugged his jeans and boxers off at the same time.

Dean lifted her chin and made her meet his eyes. She hadn't even realized she had been staring. He kissed her -more softly than he had all night- and pushed her legs apart a little more. "Remember," he said, muttering against her lips, "you say the word, and we stop."

"I know," she said. She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, threading her fingers in his hair. Dean nodded, pressed his lips against hers, and slowly slid inside her. She moaned against his lips and squeezed her eyes shut. She tilted her head back and broke the kiss, letting out a whimper.

"Are you okay?" he whispered. She didn't say anything, too focused on catching her breath. "Hey, hey," Dean said, turning her cheek so she was looking at him. "Are you okay?" he repeated.

"Yeah," she breathed out.

"What do you want?" he asked. She swallowed thickly.

"Keep going," she said. "Just slow." Dean nodded and pressed his face into the crook of her neck, kissing her softly as he pushed deeper into her. Her grip in his hair tightened, and her other hand was digging its nails into the skin of his back. He moaned against her skin and placed another kiss to her neck. She was squeezing him tighter than he had ever experienced before.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered.

"What?" she whispered. "Is, is it okay?"

"Fuck, baby," Dean said. "You feel so fucking good. You just let me know what you need."

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I-" She cut herself off with a heavy sigh. "I feel full." The words made Dean's cock twitch inside her. "Do you want to move?"

"Oh, I want to do a lot of things, sweetheart," Dean said. "But you tell me what you want."

"I, I think I want you to move," she whispered. "Just slow."

"I can do that," he said. He pulled his hips back slowly before pushing them forward again. She whimpered but nodded her head, silently letting Dean know everything was okay. He continued to move, thrusting in and out of her and attempting not to lose control. She felt so good, and it was taking everything in his power not to pound her into the mattress. Her eyes were still squeezed shut, so he knew she was still experiencing some discomfort. He brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked them, then reached between their bodies and started rubbing her clit.

"Oh," she breathed out, her eyes suddenly fluttering open. He looked at her, licking his lips, before leaning down to kiss her. She kissed him back weakly, her mind too focused on all the different feelings she was experiencing. Dean twitched again inside her, and he could tell he was getting close. As badly as he wanted to hold out a little longer, she was so fucking tight, he knew he wouldn't last.

"How're you doing, baby?" he asked, thrusting into her a little deeper. She moaned, though it didn't sound as laced in slight pain as it had earlier.

"'M fine," she muttered.

"Fine ain't good enough for me," he said. "What can I do for ya?"

"I don't know," she whispered. Dean could hear the desperation in her voice, and a bit of his heart broke. He couldn't imagine not knowing what made his body feel good and what didn't. He tried to think of a position that might open her up more, so he brought both of her knees to her chest. She moaned and arched her back, her eyes squeezing shut. He was able to reach even deeper inside her, and something about the new position made a lot of the pain go away. He started rubbing quicker circles on her clit, hoping the pressure there would ease any discomfort she was feeling anywhere else. He felt her body relax a bit more, and she moaned softly in his ear.

"Baby," Dean said, "You're gonna cum before me, you understand?"

"Dean," she moaned, her breath getting caught in her throat. Tears were coming to her eyes. She was right there. She could feel the pressure building in her lower stomach, and Dean was sure no woman had ever squeezed his cock like this.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?" he muttered. She nodded, and he started pounding into her harder, his balls slapping against her skin with every thrust. She cried out and dug her nails into his back, scratching marks all across his skin.

"Oh my god," she cried. "Dean."

"Can daddy cum inside you?" he asked, his face buried in her neck. She nodded, her breaths coming out short. "Go ahead, sweetheart," he said through a moan. "Cum for me."

She squeezed her eyes shut and cried out his name again as she came, sure she drew blood on his upper back with her nails. Dean came at the same time, shooting his load inside her. She whimpered and pulled Dean so close to her, he was practically laying on top of her. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear as she caught her breath. When he pulled out of her, she shuddered at the feeling of his cum leaking out of her. Dean bit back a moan at the sight. He brushed some of her hair away from her face. "Need you to use the bathroom," he told her. "When you're done, I'll run us a bath, okay?"

She nodded and went to the bathroom to relieve herself. When she washed her hands, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her skin was flushed, and Dean had left little love bites across her neck and chest. She bit her lip and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Dean knocked. "Mm?" she hummed back. Dean opened the door and smiled at her.

"Ready for that bath?" he asked. She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself. He placed a kiss to her forehead as he passed her to fill up the bathtub. She leaned her back against the counter and kept her arms folded across herself as she waited for the bathtub to fill. Dean found a bath bomb Jess had gotten him once and added it to the tub.

When the bath was finally ready, Alice stepped in, sinking down into the water with a content sigh. Dean got in the tub behind her, settling his legs around her body. She leaned back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. "You feeling okay?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she said. "I'm okay. I feel-" She hesitated, trying to collect her thoughts. "-weird I guess. Not bad. Just weird." Dean nuzzled his face against her neck and kissed her. "But it was good," she assured him, reaching her hand behind her and tangling her hand in his hair. She lifted his head so she could kiss his lips, and he smiled and kissed her back.

"First times can be weird," he told her when he pulled away. "Next time'll be better. Promise. We can try new positions that might help." She nodded and relaxed against his chest again. He grabbed her loofa and washed her arms, legs, and tummy. When he put the loofa down, he let his hand trail down her torso and to her thighs. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt a pulse between her legs. Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed her skin. "Can I make you cum again, sweetheart?" he asked. "Do you want that?" She nodded and let her hand rest on the back of his neck again. She could feel Dean smile against her skin as he slid one of his fingers inside her. She sighed and gripped his hair tighter, and he didn't waste any time before he added another. Considering his cock had been in her not very long ago, she took his fingers with ease. She threw her head back against his shoulder and whimpered.

"Dean," she breathed out. He hummed and started rubbing his thumb against her clit. He knew she wouldn't last long, still pretty wound up from earlier. He used his other hand to squeeze her breast and tweak her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She let out short but heavy breaths, and her eyes were squeezed shut. He was surprised when she put her hand over his that was on her pussy and pushed his hand, encouraging him to move his fingers deeper inside her and his thumb faster against her clit.

"You want to help daddy?" he whispered. "You gonna help daddy make you cum?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Need you to go faster."

"Good girl," he said. He moved his thumb in faster circles and his fingers thrust a little deeper.

She moaned out his name and another breathy, "Yes," before she came around his fingers.

"Good girl," Dean said again, his breath tickling her ear. "Just like that, sweetheart." He helped her ride out her orgasm, and her jaw dropped in a silent moan. Dean captured her lips in a kiss, sliding his tongue in her mouth. She whined against his lips when he pulled his fingers out of her, and she could feel him smile.

They soaked in silence in the tub until Dean noticed the water went cold. "Come on, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear. "Let's get to bed."

"Hmm?" she hummed. Dean looked down at Alice and chuckled, realizing he had just woken her up. He kissed her cheek, getting out of the tub and wrapping a towel around his waist. She sat up a bit, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Dean grabbed another towel and helped her out of the tub, wrapping the plush fabric around her. He gave her a clean pair of boxers to wear and his Led Zeppelin shirt, and she mumbled something about needing to keep her own clothes there.

And he liked the idea of that.

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

A/N - this gif gave me heart palpitations | psa that you shouldn’t assume someone is clean just because they’re a virgin

(next)

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[where-is-francis]

Boys Don’t Cry

Steve Harrington x Male Reader

Request:

Prompt: “I came by your house late at night for advice and you’re dancing in your bedroom to The Cure and, not gonna lie, it’s pretty amusing.”

A/N: And the slowest writer ever award goes to: me. But ok Boys Don’t Cry is one of my favorite songs to dance to in an over-dramatic fashion while I’m alone in my bedroom. And I figured like. Why not.

TW: underage drinking, Guys Bein’ Dudes™️, slight language, you dated Nancy but the sexuality is never specified.

Cliques were always dangerous. You never really fit in with any specific group. Fellow peers at Hawkins had just kind of dubbed you a wanderer. And for as much as the teachers liked you, you found yourself in detention quite a bit. Not because you actually started fights, but pissing off Steve Harrington was one of your favorite hobbies. And when Billy Hargrove moved to town, your focus simply shifted to tormenting him instead.

Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the attention. For whatever reason, aggravating each other was the main basis of your friendship.

It was about third period and you’d come in to school late. The secretary noticed you weren’t at roll call for algebra or science, so she called your house. And before you could get to the phone your mother picked up and began screaming at you, whom she just assumed had already left, prompting you to get ready and leave.

The hallways were empty and it was fairly quiet, save for the noises of one of the gym classes going on. Your locker, unfortunately, was in the hall right beside the gym. Squeaks from sneakers and thuds from a dribbling basketball came from behind closed doors. Every time that damned ball hit your head throbbed more, still recovering from the party last night.

Tossing your Walkman inside, you began to grab out one of the books you’d need. English had been boring, but not as laggy as math and science. For a kid who was good with numbers you were surprisingly bad at the two subjects.

A sudden break in your thoughts came when a familiar face spotted yours and began to walk over. You could sense the uneasiness in the way he walked, normally he’d be trying to scare you. With everything in your hands, you nudged the door to your locker closed and waited for him to say something snarky as a greeting.

But he never did.

(E/c) orbs met dark brown ones. The light behind them was gone, now replaced with a sorrowful expression.

“You good?”

“Not really,” he sighed defensively.

“What’s got you—?”

Memories of the party from the night before came back in a blurred montage. Drinking, dancing, smoking, laughing, making out, repeat. You didn’t remember much, but at one point Nancy spilled her drink and went to the bathroom. What seemed like five hours later, Steve was pissed and ended up leaving.

“Oh, shit.” You visibly cringed.

“Look, I’m going to go talk to her.”

“It’s a wasted effort, man.” You reasoned. “Coming from somebody who’s been with her, just trust me.”

He always went to you for advice when it came to her. Nancy Wheeler was a very complex person, but you two dated for a while, and you kind of knew everything. A breakup came after about ten short months when you grew apart, but after a bit of a chat you two decided to stay friends.

The brunette shook his head slightly and glared. Reaching a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, he muttered something about just getting it over with. You opened your mouth to speak just when the secretary stepped out, a less than pleased look on her face.

“(L/n), you better get to class before you end up with another detention. You too, Harrington.”

A small smirk crossed your features. “Aww, that’d be such a shame, huh?”

Steve quickly sauntered off, presumably to talk to Nancy, and you were left with the secretary. The look in her tired eyes that reached your own pleaded for you to just shut up and go to class.

“They aren’t paying me enough for this,” she groaned.

The smirk on your face morphed into a full shit-eating grin, then prompting you to make your way down the hall and into your English class. Just another average day would follow, nothing out of the ordinary.

Later that evening as you got home, you decided it would be best to unwind and listen to music. Nobody else was home, your parents both at work, so that meant you could do pretty much whatever you wanted. Reaching your beat up door, you began to tug your denim jacket off and toss it onto the chair in the corner.

Everything about the room was overdone; posters adorned the off-white walls, the pictures overlapping at times, and stickers thrown onto the closet door. Two large bookshelves were filled to the brim with your music collection, some sketchbooks, and whatever other junk you had that couldn’t be left on the floor.

Nancy always hated your room but that was to be expected. It didn’t bother you much, you’d rather be at her house anyways.

You shut the door and began to change into something a bit more comfortable, wondering what you’d do with yourself for the remainder of the night. Ordering a pizza sounded pretty good, considering nobody was home and you didn’t want to cook. Most nights alone you’d end up watching TV, playing video games, and then crash at about 2 AM. A vicious cycle, one you never grew tired of.

Without thinking, you reached over and grabbed your phone from the receiver and dialed Steve’s number. It seemed like a good idea at the time, the two of you could hang out for a bit without getting yelled at.

Last time he was over, your parents came home earlier than anticipated and found the two of you sat on the couch, drunk, reading through the phone book (for whatever reason), only to just lose your shit whenever you saw a name that sounded even mildly amusing.

The phone rang a few times before eventually being picked up.

A sigh could be heard. “What?”

“Hey, loverboy. I’m ordering pizza tonight. You wanna come over and hang out?”

“Are we going to get our asses ripped this time?” The brunette retorted.

A fake laugh came from you. “That was one time, so are you coming or not?”

There was a minute long pause between you two. No matter how much you annoyed each other, you were one of his weaknesses. And pizza was something that he couldn’t say no to.

“Fine, but—”

“Great! See you in a few.” You chirped and practically smashed your phone back onto the base.

Steve lived only a couple streets down from you. You met back at the beginning of elementary school, both of you riding the same bus. Neither you, nor him, could really remember when you started to consider the other a ‘friend’. But it mainly had something to do with him and Nancy being a couple.

Since she and you dated before and were still close friends, somehow you ended up becoming the marriage counselor along the way.

But hey, the more the merrier, right?

Your mind couldn’t help but drift sometimes. Steve was pretty cute in your eyes, even with his weird hair. Generally the same taste in music, shows, movies, and obviously the same taste in girls. And although he was stupid (sometimes), he was a good dude.

It wouldn’t take long for him to reach the house. In the meantime you decided it would be best to put in the order for the pizzas. A quick call to the nearest shop, and they’d deliver it as soon as it was done.

After scanning through some music, you finally settled on one: a mixtape of your favorite songs from The Cure. You popped it in with no hesitation and set your player to max volume. The intro to Siamese Twins rang out in your bedroom, the beat eventually making all of the furniture thud in perfect time. Glass window panes shook as well, you’d probably have the neighbors complaining in the morning.

Your feet guided you around the house aimlessly as you searched for something to drink, the sound of music becoming more muffled as you entered the kitchen. It reminded you of the party a few nights ago, but far less stuffy. And with better music.

“I chose an eternity of this; like fallen angels, the world disappeared,” you sang slightly to yourself as you rummaged through the cabinets.

Nothing.

Onto the fridge, stocked full of Coke and other stuff you didn’t much care for. Nobody

Meanwhile, down the street, Steve could hear loud music coming from your street. Which was odd, if there was a party he would’ve known about it. Upon further inspection he realized it was coming from your house. The sun was already starting to set behind said abode, nestling itself deeper and deeper into the rows of houses that occupied the area.

The Harrington boy stepped a bit closer and took in the view; your house covered in orange and red tinted leaves, the living room and kitchen lights shining through their respective windows. Your silhouette moved about inside, gracefully, to the beat. Almost like a shadow with perfectly fluid movements.

His focus shifted to the porch lights, then the door, the doorbell, and back again. He only assumed your parents weren’t home but he wasn’t sure, although with as loud as the music was, ringing the doorbell or knocking wouldn’t have done any good anyways. It took him a bit to move, then walking around to the darkened backyard where he counted the windows.

The first one was your parents’ room (he learned the hard way), the second belonged to the bathroom, and finally, the third was the entrance to your bedroom. He glanced down, careful not to step on the flowers, then maneuvered his way around to find a spot where he could see through the gap blinds. What he got was something out of a renaissance painting.

You with your mom’s pearl necklace and matching earrings draped carelessly, your shirt all the way unbuttoned, and a wine glass in your hand. To top it all off, your hair was a mess, but complemented the askew lipstick that painted your lips. Your hips swayed back and forth in a graceful yet drunken manner. Inside, Boys Don’t Cry came on the stereo.

Each step you took was calculated to sync with the beat, the only thing that could’ve made it more amusing was if you would’ve been wearing heels.

“What is that moron doing?”

“I would say I’m sorry

If I thought that it would change your mind

But I know that this time I have said too much,

Been too unkind,”

You sang along, a slurred version not being heard by the other male as he watched from the window. Brown eyes were fixated on your form as you leapt up onto the bed, forcing a bit of a stumble from yourself. After almost toppling over, you continued on.

“I tried to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies

I tried to laugh about it, hiding the tears in my eyes cause—”

“Boys… don’t cry.” Steve finished.

In the midst of the dancing spree you turned and locked eyes with said boy. The room was swaying about and took a minute to stop, your vision focusing on him. Each step you took closer to the window made your knees feel weaker, but somehow you managed to pull the screen up to let the other boy in.

The room was almost like a time capsule; nothing really moved or touched since the last time he’d been there, the only difference being the clothes that had been strewn across the floor. Sudden weight on the bed caused it to dip behind him. When he turned, your body was draped gracefully across the dark (color) sheets. Almost something out of an erotic painting, the clash of textures and colors alike.

Originally, the plan had been to come to wallow in self pity and ask for advice about Nancy. Now all he could think about was you, tipsy, singing along to music so loud it would rival an actual concert.

“You—you want a sip?” You shouted over the lyrics, somewhat slurred.

Steve thought about it for a minute, taking glances at your extended hand every so often. A slight sigh escaped him, then taking the glass and downing whatever was left. He started coughing and gagging as a result of the cheap liquor hitting, but didn’t care too much to do anything besides wipe his mouth off.

Everything in that moment was fuzzy, and loud, and warm. Time was stopped for you two. Nothing really mattered except the exact moment you were living in. Not some dumb party, not some spoiled suburban girl, and most certainly not being sober.

Steve’s hands fell to his hips. The newfound anxiety on his face made you wonder, but still too afraid to ask.

“Is there more to drink?”

“Yeah, in the kitchen… come on.”

Everything that happened afterwards became a blur of colors and muffled noises. Almost like going under anesthesia in the hospital, you couldn’t really remember what went on until something triggered it. And from then on you’d spend your time wondering if it was real or not, trying so hard to distinguish a vivid dream from a drugged reality.

One thing happened to stand out. The single thing you could remember.

Not so many hours later, bottles of liquor had been spread across the floor and the lights turned off. The music that once blared and annoyed the neighbors was turned down now, a much softer volume. Melodic hums came from your lips as Steve ranted about Nancy. The party, it was all because of the stupid party.

“— and, I mean, I apologized. Me. Steve fucking Harrington.”

After what seemed like four rounds too many, his speech was slurred.

Steve buried his face in his hands.“I don’t know what I did wrong…”

“You didn’t do any-anything wrong, man. Nancy just... has a stick up her ass, nothing new.” You assured him with a soft shove to the shoulder.

Your eyes met for a brief moment, his hands sliding down the sides of his face. A pitiful laugh found its way from his throat, soon after turning into something far more maniacal. Something about the situation was funny to you as well.

But not what you had said about Nancy, no. What made you laugh was the look on this idiot’s face, perfectly illuminated by the neighbor’s porch lights. How he slid down deeper onto your floor, ribs aching from giggling too hard. Though he was drunk, the smile plastered on his face was genuine.

Two separate roars were only extinguished after a few minutes, but at the time it felt like hours. You attempted to regain your composure but it was hard when his face was right next to yours. Once perfect brown hair was now askew, the result of the perfect night in. Eyes in the color to match brimmed with tears from laughing, something he felt like he hadn’t done in a while. Nearly perfect skin and perfect lips almost begging for some action; it was too amazing.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you wanted to make out with me…”

It took a minute for his words to sink in. Even in the dark he could see the red flush rise to your cheeks. You swallowed a bit, hand rising to comb through (h/c) locks anxiously. Harsh shadows covered your (s/c) face but even then Steve could still tell you were biting your lip.

It seemed he had his answer.

“Oh,”

“Yeah, oh,” you mirrored.

Everything happened what felt like hours later, but at the same time, all at once. Your bodies had been forced together, the taste of long forgotten cheap wine playing on your tongues. His hands reached up to tangle gently in your hair, all while yours gripped desperately at the lapels of his denim jacket.

The kiss was soft and messy, but whether it was the alcohol’s fault or the fact he was nervous was anybody’s guess. For whatever reason, Steve expected it to feel different but it didn’t. The kiss was just that; a kiss. Not a kiss with a boy, just a kiss.

Clumsily, he straddled your lap to get a better angle. It still felt the same. The time had come to an end, your lungs begging for air, forcing the two of you to pull back. His shoulders heaved, the room only being filled now with the slight sound of you both panting.

(E/c) hues opened to take in the view. Steve Harrington straddling your lap, breathless, disheveled, only being lit by the light that came through the window. The grip you had on his jacket slowly loosened, only to be stopped by his hand on yours. Red lipstick that once adorned your lips was now shared. The Cure that played in the background had finally come to a complete stop. But the gaze Steve had on your lips didn’t, especially when he began to lean in again.

“Don’t tell Nancy,”

[snickletastic]

Interrupted {Jason Todd x Reader}

warnings~ cursing, mostly fluffy i think

request~  Jason reluctantly goes with his wife to her high school reunion, They see her old friends and have the unfortunate chance of running into her cheating ex and the mean girl he cheated on her with. They try to start shit with the reader who just takes it in stride before thanking them. But she's not living in the past anymore and introduces them to Jason much to the bully couple's jealousy.

a/n~ i ended up having a whole lot of fun with this one, but of course encountered some awkward moments during it. i think it goes pretty smoothly, but there are some bumpy parts that im sure youll notice. i hope you guys like it :)

___________________

“I just know that this is gonna be great,” you murmured while leaning over the counter to get near to the mirror so you could get a closer look at your lipstick application. 

Jason let out a quiet groan as he buttoned his shirt, “I’m going for the food. You know that, right?”

“Yeah baby, I know,” You shut the tube of lipstick and turned to your husband, who was rolling up the sleeves of his button up. “You should wear these shirts more often, you look adorable.”

“Adorable? I was hoping for something along the lines of sexy,” Jason mocked, “maybe dashing? Absolutely fetching?”

You ignored his complaining and fixed his tie for him. “I need you to be serious tonight...or at least a little serious,” you focused on pulling the tie through the hoop, “I really want this to go well.”

“Can you believe it’s been ten years since you graduated? Feelin’ old yet?” Jason teased while watching you fasten his tie.

“Don’t you start,” you lightheartedly threatened him, “You’re a year older, anyways.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“You’re a moron,” you rolled your eyes.

“I know you ar-”

“Quit that, you man-child!”

“Fine,” Jason stepped back and admired you, “You’re looking sexy tonight.”

You blushed, “Than-”

“For an oldie,” Jason teased again, “Sorry. Okay. I promise. I’m done now.”

“Can we go now, or are there any other jokes you wanna make?”

Jason considered quips for a moment, looking thoughtful. “No, I’m pretty sure I’m done.” You sighed in relief and began walking out the door. “Don’t forget your walker, babe,” Jason called out while watching you leave.

_____________________

The banquet hall of the upscale Gotham hotel was filled with hundreds of familiar faces. You graduated from Gotham City High School, so your class had about 1,000 students or so due to how overpopulated the city is. Why? You could never figure it out. Why is Gotham so populated when there is a new psychopathic murderer every other week? A man dressed in a batsuit defending the city? A running theme of poison being dropped from blimps flying over? Who knows. Maybe it’s the charm.

Jason never had the chance to graduate, because, well, he died. You were worried that he’d be uncomfortable at the reunion, him being reminded of things he missed out on. But you were also hopeful that this would give him the chance to experience things he never got to. Now here you stood, watching your husband down 3 crab cakes all at once.  There was nothing you could do other than stand there and stare in disbelief; not at his immaturity, but at the size his throat must be to be able to eat so much at once. “Huh,” you wondered aloud.

Leaving your husband at the buffet, you wandered off to the center of socialization in the room hoping to find some old friends. You met with some old buddies, sharing information about your lives nowadays. The most interesting part of the reunion thus far was the people who seemed to be background characters in highschool; npc’s. It was amazing to see people you disregarded along the way without trying to; whether it was the girl who sat behind you in biology or the guy you’d make awkward eye contact with in the halls every now and then, you’d forgotten that they were living people, too. Now the boy who swallowed an eraser back in sophomore year was a doctor. The girl who got bullied for being a nerd was a renowned writer. Straying away towards the walls, watching people interact, you stood with a glass of soda in deep thoughts. 

Until you got interrupted.

“Y/n? Is that really you?” an obnoxiously high voice approached you. Turning, you saw the most dreadful glimpse of the night; your ex-boyfriend, Blake, and on his right arm, the girl he cheated on you with in senior year, Kennedy. You could already feel yourself turning nauseous from the sight.

“Wow! It is her!” Blake jeered.

“Hey,” you tried to say pleasantly, but it came out as more of a cry for help.

“I saw you standing over here all alone, staring at everyone having all this fun- I figured you needed some company!” Kennedy taunted in her grating voice.

“Actually, I-”

“No need to explain yourself, snookie bear,” Blake smirked. You could feel your back tense at the pet name he used to call you even though you told him how much you hated it. “We just wanted to tell you that Kennedy and I,” Blake squeezed his partners waist, “Are getting married next weekend in Bel-Air!” Kennedy squealed and held out her hand, displaying her big diamond ring.

“Um, congratulations guys. That’s great. I didn’t expect either of you to last this long. As a matter of fact, I thought I heard that the two of you broke up a few years ago,” You smiled at them, mockingly. There were rumours that he had cheated on her with her sister. 

“We moved past that,” Kennedy’s smile faded, “Now we are happy together. That’s all that matters.”

“Hey, three’s company,” You shrugged and took a sip of your soda, “I have to g-” You were interrupted by an arm slipping around your waist, and the sudden appearance of a body emerging next to you. Jason. You looked back to the distasteful couple in front of you, and there was nothing you wished for more in that moment than a camera. Jason towered over Blake, and even Kennedy, who was in heels. He casted a shadow over their boastful attitudes, too.

“Hi,” Jason waved at them.

“Who’s this?” Blake’s demeanor changed immediately.

“This is my husband, Jason. Jason, this is Blake and Kennedy,” you introduced everybody to each other. Jason must have remembered their names from your stories, because his face dropped the moment you said them.

Blake sheepishly held out his hand towards Jason, who seemed to contemplate accepting it or not. He did though, and he certainly asserted his dominance by clutching Blake’s hand so hard that you could hear something crack. He finally let go, and Blake softly whimpered and held his hand, clearly in pain. 

His fiance ignored him, though. “Why, I didn’t realize you were married,” Kennedy held out her right hand, putting her left one, with the ring, behind her back. Jason graciously accepted the handshake, “Nice to meet you. I like your eyes, the blue really stands out.” Kennedy blushed at the compliment and flashed a smile. “The shade of them doesn’t help you look any less dead inside, though,” Jason quipped and let go of her hand.

“My husband and I have to go now,” you broke the awkward silence, “It’s been so great seeing the two of you again. I hope you find happiness with your new wife- and her sister.”

You held onto Jason’s arm and walked away. “Do you wanna dance?” Jason asked, trying to ease your apprehension.

“Not really, I just wanna go home now,” You shrugged.

“Fair enough,” Jason said before stopping at the buffet table again, stuffing some hors d’oeuvres into his pants pockets. 

“You can’t possibly be serious,” you shook your head and smiled at his foolishness.

“One thing I learned on the streets is that you always take free food no matter what. I’m not passing up these fancy ass snacks.”

_________

Later on, you sat on the couch with Jason while watching television. He pulled shrimp out of his pocket and munched on it unwittingly. Earlier he offered you a fancy cheese from his left pocket, but you declined. 

Now you were just bummed out that the reunion ended up being a letdown, and Jason took notice. He just wasn’t sure how to go about making you feel better other than offering you pocket cheese. 

You laid and admired his features as he ate another shrimp, and then watched as his eyes flickered. You knew that face. He had an idea. He grabbed the remote and turned the T.V. to one of those strange music channels that played romantic piano. Then, he got up and held his hand out to you, “May I have this dance?” he bowed to you.

“Huh?”

“Just go with it,” he exhaled.

“Okay,” you took his hand and he pulled you up.

He awkwardly rested one hand on the small of your back and held the other one out dramatically, like a ballroom dancer. “Trust me, I’m a professional,” he beamed.

The two of you did a dreadful ballroom dance in the middle of the living room, in your pajamas. It was so much better than the reunion had been. All that was there were things of the past, but all that matters now is fooling around with the guy you love to the sound of uncopyrighted music on the T.V.

masterlist

[claimingtheflame]

Lincoln Trail Mental Health Facility Part 1

Once again I want to reiterate that a lot of these posts are diaries I wrote never finished. Some of them jump around in my life. The story is about something that took place several years after D left

I remember the moment I turned in the paper. It was nothing. The last question asked my thoughts on the final death of Juliet. I sympathize. To this day I do. Many people probably do. She ended her life because she was in the grip of a mythic tragedy. Who could walk away from such a fate?

Except. Even though this is exactly how I felt, my teenage brain did not yet have the skills to articulate this. I ended up writing something like "I feel what juliet did was right. The world is ugly and filthy and who wants to live in it without someone you love." Because I was an edgy goth kid.

This would send me into the clutches of my own sort of tragedy. A brutal, destructive storm began churning that friday that would completely knock me out of my stupid unlaced combat boots on monday.

It happened like this. I walked into first period, Biology. I sat next to Adam, my closest friend. A knock came shortly after the period started and it turned out to be a senior girl who wanted me to be escorted to Mrs Mudds office. I did not know who that was. It turned out she was a counselor. She had coppery hair and a long, perky, somewhat simian face.

In this story, there is a long list of incompetant people who should not have had their jobs, and possibly should have been in prison. Mrs Mudd is not one of them. As much as I dislike her to this day. Maybe she did really mean well. Maybe she was just swept away by the drama of the whole situation. This is Elizabethtown KY after all.

We talked for a few hours. Looking back, I really don't think I said anything to her that should have been construed that I was depressed or suicidal. We talked about a secret place I visited in the woods behind my neighborhood. We talked about various religious beliefs and about music I listened to. Either way, my mom picked me up from school and I was somewhat excited for the break-in monotony.

We have drove to Lincoln Trail Behavioral Health Center , and I really didn't know what was happening. I had friends who had gone, but I didn't really believe that's why we were there until I saw the look on my mom's face as we walked in. There was a serious feeling of betrayal then. Like God woman haven't you put me through enough. This was an unfair thought. My mother is the second person blameless in the story. I would find out later that basically everybody from my school was telling her I was planning on killing myself quite literally. Mrs. Mudd had apparently told them that the place in the woods was my planned spot to die. I had self-harmed in the past. It was all pleasure related though and I thought it had nothing to do with my mental health. Either way it had been months prior to this, but it added to the Snowball Effect.

I'll admit that I didn't really understand my own mental health at this age. I had just been released from D's clutches only a few precious years earlier. I had no clue what was going on. I was going through a suspended childhood in many ways. All that said, Lincoln Trail Behavioral Health System did not help or address any my mental health issues. Let me reiterate. Aside from some experimental self harm 6 months prior(I received counseling, was evauted, etc), at age 15 I was pretty well behaved. I rarely got in trouble. I certainly never acted disturbed. Lincoln helped nobody who actually went there. In fact I barely escaped with my life and sanity. This is not a dramatic statement. This was a terrible place, as you will learn.

I was obviously scared the moment I walked into this place, all the stories I heard. We were buzzed through a security door after a few accusatory last looks at my mother when I went in quietly. I heard if you resisted or yelled that they gave you a shot in your ass of some kind of sedative. I did not want to give anybody the satisfaction roughing up the goth kid and shooting them in the ass. This was a short-lived Triumph. I would learn quickly that this place was not for me and that there was some horrible mistake pretty early on . I was led to a room and told to take off my clothes down to my underwear. I was told to turn around in front of this guy, who nodded with approval after watching and told me to put back on my clothes. I was wearing really baggy SpongeBob boxers. I guess I could have gotten away with hiding something into the facility. That's the thing. I wasn't a f****** delinquent. Not yet or not anymore depending on how you look at the chronology of things I did as a teenager. Anyway I do remember a kind moment here. The guard escorted me down a hallway and a girl smiled at me brightly. "It's really not that bad here." She said. I smiled and shrugged. This was more of a kind gesture than I realized, I would find this out later.

I was then led to the office of the first real fuckup in this story. This would be my counselor. I don't remember her name. She was somewhat nice to begin with. I'll call her mrs. Wannabe because later she would read a bunch of poems about her Native American ancestry. This extremely blond, blue-eyed woman with a square German face and freckles. Me and Wannabe would talk for about 30 minutes and she would send me on to my actual psychiatrist. I do remember this man's name. I will never forget it. His name was dr. Kodali. We can call him King fuckup. Fuckup prime.

He was a small man, with a small mustache, and skin the color between a beet and a russet potato. He spoke in broken English. He asked me why I thought I was there. I told him about the paper I wrote. He smiled and said " yes we all say things we don't mean. " he asked me if I follow the rules at home. I said yes as long as they are within reason. He laughed at me and said " my own daughter thinks several of my rules are not within reason. Children come to learn to obey. " we did not talk about depression, and this statement would turn out to be significant in many ways. It would come to outline the failure of this institution to children who actually suffered depression. Which I will admit that back then I might have been suffering from. Certainly anxiety. But who doesnt, to some degree?

Let us frame our Shit Pit King with what I didnt know about him before I explain my own experiences. He received kickbacks for pushing certain medicines. This is an important detail. He had been accused on several occasions of over-prescribing meds. He was widely hated as a doctor, and I can't believe he still has a job.

During my first visit, he was mostly dismissive. Interrupted me and laughed at me often. He was mostly interested in my behavior. If I acted up. If I respected authority. Literally nothing about suicide was discussed. So why did this guy prescribe meds at the end of our conversation? He picked up the phone, called my mother, and gave her the dosage information. I narrowly escaped this medicine, whatever it was, due to a surprising hero figure in the story who we will discuss later.

He dismissed me and I was sent to "group" for the first time. This is nothing like "support groups" you see in Lifetime movies. It was a huge room, an obnoxious amount of desk chairs crammed in a circle. Boys on one side. Girls on the other.

I immediately dislike this. It feels tense, and I feel scrutinized. I try to ask a girl near me if I can use one of her pencils. She folds her arms and rolls her eyes. " I can't talk to him." She says to the ceiling. This gets the attention of the counselor of the group, who is actually just an early 20-somethings aide of some kind, there are a few of these. This one I call Nick neckbeard. He says " we are here to work on our problems, not to date. " I am immediately embarrassed. I definitely wasn't trying to date anybody. I let it go but it does set the tone.

Since I am the new kid, a round of introductions is done. Not a lot of these people are notable other than the fact that a lot of them are in here for drugs. Some are in here as an in-between stage between Juvenile Detention and Society. I get the distinct feeling that most of the boys are here for drugs and violent crime. I reflect bitterly that I am in here for writing a stupid paper.

There are several thug wannabe types, maybe two or three other white guys that aren't like that. One obvious skinhead as well. It's split in half racially. Five white Boys & 5 black. There was a round of introductions. Most were there for, as mentioned, substance abuse and violent behavior. The skinhead boasted of being in because he stuck foreign objects in his body. He stabbed himself with pens and various utensils. Another boy was in for desecrating graves. The girls were almost exclusively substance abuse. There was one Arab girl that was in there, and though she talked much I never quite understood why except that I knew she definitely needed to be in there. She either talked incessantly of sex or repeatedly told this story about a "bad doll" that lived in her house- all in broken english.

So this was the introduction to the place. Honestly yes, I would have problems with the other patients. That's really out of the scope of the story though. They are mental patients. What do you expect?

The true problem with Lincoln trail was its staff and overall structure. Such a problem was this structure that it would break me down to that kernel of a child you see on all the other stories on this blog. Such that Lincoln trail would reduce me again to that boy child whispering a question to the darkness: "Why am I being punished?" It would make me know, through recognition and reinforcement of abusive themes I was already familiar with, that I was not in a safe place.

The first night I felt this first blow through humiliation and guilt. It was a simple thing really. We were sent to bed. A corridor with a small basket on the outside of each door. A female counselor was pointing each of us down the hall to our rooms. When my time came, she pointed vaguely down the hall to the right side. I tried to ask for clarification and she shouted "Right there!" And my immediate reaction to being chastised like this was to go to one of the rooms with my belongings. She did not stop me.

I noticed one of the wooden bed frames(they were double rooms with single bathrooms) had no mattress. My roommate was a boy my age. He had close-buzzed haircut. He seemed politely surprised. I shrugged and got in the shower. When I turned the water off, I heard yelling on the other side of the door.

The boy was yelling angrily that he did not know who I was and that he had nothing to do with me. He was explaining that I came into his room unbidden and to no fault of his own. I dressed quickly and came out of the bathroom as soon as possible. A middle-aged blond woman grabs me by the arm and began leading me out of the room. When I asked her where we were going she did not say anything but tightened her grip and sat me down in a chair. This woman becomes important later. Five minutes later Dr kodali came into the office with my other counselor, both looking at me sternly.

I apologize for not knowing the exact words of the conversation. Basically the boy was supposed to have his room to his self. He was gay and had been known to have had sexual contact with other patients. They grilled me hard about whether or not I was gay and deciding whether I should be disciplined. Dr kodali somehow remembers that that my girlfriend had given testimony(positively) over my mental health and he seemed to leave it at that. The blonde lady didnt seem convinced.

When she led me back to my(actual) room, she took the liberty of going through my clothes and belongings. She confiscated basically all of my clothing, saying that it would distract patients(black jeans and tees...none of my flashier stuff). She confiscated my copy of Cannery Row, all my homework, and my shampoo. She really let off on me while doing this. Talking about how sneaky I was and if I was planning anything with Chester(the gay guy) that she would know.

This was Day 1. I would kneel beside the bed that night and pray(I just prayed to 'the goddess' back then), just to feel peace inside. I was so put-upon about the stupid clothes. They were my armor, in a way.

The next day would be a lot worse. I'd learn a lot.

[agustdomain]

glow

Synopsis: There’s something beautiful about the simplicity of an unspoken feeling. What better night to discover that beauty than on New Year’s Eve.

Word Count: 4.6 k words

Genre: a love for the New Year

Member: Mark Lee (ft. NCT)

Author’s Note: I really worked against the clock for this one. Probably some typos, I just wanted to get this out. Inspired by: New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy this brief but first work of 2019.

It’s that time of year again. 

Christmas came and went, the year flew by like a page fluttering in the wind and suddenly you can’t remember how another year slipped past your fingers. It’s funny how time works sometimes, how a new year starts and ends and you can remember counting down last year like it was yesterday. 

Time is quite the concept, dragging on in a specific day but brief when you look at it from an outside perspective. Yes, you grow up and you don’t make as frequent fond memories. But growing up isn’t a death sentence, not like the way some people make it out to be. There is a glow in everything if you look hard enough. 

That’s what you told yourself. Especially tonight. 

It was New Year’s Eve. 

Here you were, at your best friend’s boyfriend’s party. It was more of a kickback than anything, but there was still loud music and an endless supply of champagne bottles. You were pretty sure Soyeon didn’t like champagne, but the girl was smitten with her boyfriend and probably put up with it for him. 

Speaking of Soyeon, you found your eyes searching the room for the girl in question. It didn’t take you long, finding her tucked in a corner wrapped in her boyfriend’s arms. Johnny Seo hadn’t made the best impression on you the first couple of times you hung around him. Eventually, he grew on you. He was a confident man, loud and boisterous. But he cared deeply about those around him, Soyeon especially. Evidently, since he treated her so well he gained major points in your books. After all, she had a side to her that only you had grown to learn to tame. The fact that someone else had loved her enough to do the same, well that was something to be recognized.

She made eye contact with you then, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you. Tonight she was dressed to the nines, a colorful dress hugging her form nicely and her makeup done like a professional. You had to contain your smile as you caught Johnny staring at her fondly, as smitten as she was with him. Her free hand waved you over enthusiastically, the other gripping the spine of a champagne glass. 

Sighing, you considered pretending to not see her, but to be fair you weren’t really captured by anything at the moment. The kickback was quite exclusive, familiar faces around. Most of the people invited must’ve been from work, because you weren’t too familiar. Luckily, you did recognize some people. 

There was Jaehyun in the corner, chatting with a very pretty girl before separating from her and getting caught up in the piano. At the moment he was playing a lovely romantic melody, and you made a mental note to go talk to him later. Taeyong was in the corner with Doyoung and Sicheng. They seemed to be having an animated conversation, Doyoung taking the lead with exaggerated arm movements. Taeyong’s face was pulled into one of amusement, and the sight of him still made your heart flutter. After all, he was still the most handsome man you had ever met. 

Here and there, there were names and faces that sprung to mind. People from school, perhaps that Soyeon or Johnny had introduced to you. No one really held your curiosity, though. If anything, it felt like another typical night for you. 

“You look bored. Why aren’t you mingling with anyone?” Soyeon asked you, her eyes glittering from love or from her makeup you couldn’t decipher. 

“I know Sicheng is around here somewhere. Jaehyun always makes his way to the piano by the end of the night. Some of the girls are on the balcony. You can even hang out with us if you want,” Johnny offered before taking a drink of his glass. He looked handsome tonight, his suit fitting him well. You guessed he would discard the blazer and tie before it even struck midnight.

“Hang out with you? No thanks! Maybe it’s because we’re suspended between two years, but I know you two lovebirds are going to be more handsy than usual.”

Soyeon glared at you before lightening up, a smirk tugging at her lips. You narrowed your own eyes, wondering why she had a knowing look hidden in her eyes. “Maybe you should branch out tonight too. By the looks of it,” she took a dramatic pause to look you up and down, “I’m confident you haven’t found yourself someone to kiss when it’s the new year.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, Johnny turning his head and pretending not to be listening. “I don’t need to kiss anybody. That doesn’t matter to me.”

“It’s good luck.”

“Good luck, my ass,” you scoffed, feeling pretty irked at her words.

“I’m not saying you have to, but,” that glint from before lit up her eyes as she feigned nonchalance, “Maybe you think about finding someone suitable for that kiss.”

You studied her for a moment, wondering what she was insinuating. You got your answer a few beats later, Johnny exclaiming, “Finally!” and drawing the short conversation to a close. Both your eyes found his face and proceeded to follow his gaze to the front door. And if possible, your heart stopped beating for a moment at the sight of who just arrived.

Mark Lee. The man had arrived in a bustle, a portion of the people present having their attention on his arrival. He was in the midst of unbuttoning his coat with one hand and little success, the other tugging off his beanie. You continued to watch him as you watched Jaehyun approach him, smiles and loud chatter trickling through the air over the mood music playing among the room. At that moment you faintly registered Soyeon’s stare, and when you turned to meet her smirk, you could do nothing but give her a frown and head toward the kitchen. 

You ignored her call of confusion, needing a moment to find your composure. After all, you weren’t really expecting the man who had sent your mind spinning to show up. He was a close friend of Johnny’s, and if you caught the latter on a good day, he would call him best friend. They were the type of duo that was vastly different, but one and the same. They brought out the best and worst in each other, and you had been able to witness it firsthand a number of times. 

You had carried a few conversations with Mark Lee in your time of knowing him, and they were enough to let you know how he wasn’t like anyone you had ever met. There is a glow to everyone, dim and hard to see in some but bright and all-consuming in others. Mark’s glow was soft and slow, trickling in and filling you up until you realized that you were entirely enamored. 

You wouldn’t say you were in love with him. To be fair, you hadn’t gotten many opportunities to sit down and learn about him. But whenever he was around, it was a bit hard to breathe and a little easier to laugh effortlessly. It had been a long time since you harbored a crush for anyone, but being around him made you feel like you were back on a playground bothering your childhood crush. You wouldn’t mind learning about him any day. 

To steady yourself, you drank a full glass of water. Pressing the back of your hand into your flushed cheek, you wanted to scold yourself for having such an obvious telltale. Whoever didn’t have flushed cheeks in the world didn’t know how lucky they actually were.

It was around fifteen minutes later that you found yourself back in the main room of Johnny’s spacious apartment. The lights had dimmed a little bit, and you noted candles had been scattered and lit. A small group had formed in the corner, their loud conversation filtering over to you but indecipherable given the other noise filling the room. You spotted Soyeon again but knew better this time around to not make eye contact. 

Sighing, you found yourself back on the sofa that you had been lounging on majority of the night. Frankly, the dress Soyeon had convinced you into wearing was starting to prove a bad choice, uncomfortable and making you crave your bed even quicker. You weren’t intentionally being a buzzkill, you just usually stayed at home on New Years- that or visited family. This year, you had complied with Soyeon’s wishes, mostly because you didn’t want to leave her with Johnny’s work friends that she wasn’t too fond of but didn’t want to admit to him. Admittedly, she had people here she was friends with, but she had whined about it being “the cherry on top if you came.” You decided to appease her just this once. 

And now you regretted it, pulling out your phone and trying to look up who was performing tonight for Rockin’ Eve. You glared down at your phone, exclaiming, “Shawn’s performing tonight? Ugh, of course he is when I’m not home to see it-”

“There’s a T.V. in Johnny’s room if you want to watch it. I was pretty bummed to miss tonight’s performances too.” Your mouth fell open slightly before you composed yourself, offering a friendly smile to Mark even though you were internally breaking down a little. Just a little. “May I sit?”

You nervously laughed. “Of course. I don’t own the couch.” You wanted to punch yourself. That was a stupid comment. He merely laughed, making himself comfortable a few feet away. 

“I know. Just common courtesy to ask. Maybe you preferred sitting here alone.”

“Don’t mind either way.” He nodded, and a silence ensued for a while. You both people watched, and it was a comfortable silence. It was another thing that you liked about him; you didn’t always have to fill the silence with him. 

 “I don’t usually come to these things. Johnny insisted I do this year though. I wonder why,” He uttered the last part under his breath, his eyes somewhere else. You took the brief distraction to observe him a little more closely. His hair was a bit messy today, likely from the beanie he had been sporting earlier. It was a soft brown, parted but originally styled before the beanie altered it you were assuming. Underneath his unbuttoned coat was a forest green sweater, a white collared shirt peeking out at the top. He was dressed casually but fitting for the season. He was quite the sight, a hidden gem that had you wondering why no one had fallen for him yet. Even in your short moments together in the past, you got a taste of how great he is as a person. 

Turning his head back, your eyes widened at the prospect of being caught staring at him. Your nerves quieted, however, at the sight of his warm smile. You held each other’s gaze for a moment before breaking off, hearing a small giggle from him. You wondered if you were reading into it too much, or if it sounded like he was nervous. “So how have you been, Y/N? When was the last time we saw each other? Sicheng’s birthday party?” He whistled at the realization, tilting his head cutely. “That was back in October. It’s been too long since we last saw each other.”

You told yourself not to read into it again. Instead, you smiled at him as he stared at you, focusing on his words. “Yup, that was the last time we saw each other. That was a good party. You got so mad at Johnny that night.”

“You remember that?” He rubbed his neck embarrassingly. “He ruined the shirt my mom had just bought me. I wasn’t really thinking straight.”

Without thinking, you brought your hand on top of his, reassuring him, “It’s okay. We all get angry. And your outburst wasn’t too bad. It was precious more than anything.”

His eyes were wide, and you weren’t sure why, but you didn’t dwell on it as he responded, “Precious? How so?”

“You were like an angry puppy. You were trying to stay composed but your face was getting all red and you were speaking through your teeth. Johnny was trying so hard to say the right thing but was only making it worse.” You both laughed a little at the memory. 

At that moment, your gaze travelled downward to find where your hand was situated. Yanking it away, you hoped he didn’t notice your prolonged action. He didn’t seem like he had, his gaze scanning the room calmly. You breathed a sigh of relief. It would be pretty embarrassing if you made your little crush on him obvious. “To answer your question, I’ve been alright. I finished up the rest of the semester nicely. Classes weren’t too bad. I’ve had work most of break, which is a bummer, but thankfully I got to come home for the holidays. Here I am. What about you?”

He clicked his tongue, tilting his head in thought. “It’s been… the same. Nothing too big or nothing too bad. It’s been normal. Just like you, ended the semester. I made some new friends, which is always nice. I still spend a lot of time with Sicheng, Yong, and the others. Johnny, not so much anymore because of Soyeon. But that’s okay. Because of her, I got to meet you.” It looked like he hadn’t meant to say that, his posture stiffening. He backtracked, but his words stuck with you, rendering you speechless. “What I meant was, it’s always nice to meet new people and get to know them. A-and, you and Soyeon are great girls. And...yeah.” 

You blinked at his spiel before feeling laughter bubble out of you. He always did have a way of making you laugh like it was programmed into you by him. You couldn’t control the smile pulling at your lips, and you didn’t even mind how flushed you felt. “I’m glad I met you too, Mark.”

And your words must’ve loosened him up, because you spent the next hour talking comfortably and like old friends. He was even funnier when it was just the two of you, cheesy sometimes but still amusing. It was easy with him. The both of you knew what to say each other, as if you had known each other longer than you’ve actually had. 

The longer you spoke, the longer your gazes lingered on each other and the more the distance between your bodies lessened. Your legs were pressing together by the time he was showing you a video on his phone, your heads bowed together and his cute giggle almost directly in your ear. It was kinda scary how in a couple hours, it seemed he had casted a spell on you. He was great, you had known it even before getting to know him more. But experiencing it firsthand was taking its toll on you. Your face hadn’t felt its normal temperature for a while now, and you couldn’t remember the last time you had smiled so much. He was laughing so much that he had doubled over earlier in the night. 

Soon, you realized it was after 11 pm. It was the first time your smile had faded, the realization of your time dwindling down. 

“It’s almost midnight,” He thought aloud before he added, “Sorry, that’s an obvious one.”

The two of you were now standing near the piano together, previously being apart of a conversation with Jaehyun and Taeyong. Even here, in another space, it seemed you guys had grown accustomed to draw your bodies close together.

You don’t know why the thought of the New Year made you upset. Maybe because the night would end? Maybe because the clock striking midnight was your wake up call that one night with Mark Lee didn’t change anything, that you were still Soyeon’s best friend and he was still Johnny’s and the next time you saw each other would likely be months from now, at another party and pretending this didn’t happen. 

Looking over at Mark, you just realized that he wasn’t smiling. 

“Any requests, Y/N?” Your eyes found Jaehyun, who was now seated at the piano you guys had been conversing near for a while. You smiled to yourself, Johnny being right about him. More often than not tonight, you had spotted him seated at this sleek black piano, pouring his heart out as his fingers danced across the keys. You thought about it for several moments before you knew. “Do you happen to know Canon in D?”

Jaehyun’s dimpled smile painted his face, his fingers moving into position. “Of course.” 

And just like that, his fingers began dancing slowly. The music tugged at your heart, you finding it hard to look away. There was always something about watching people play the instrument they love. For Jaehyun, it was soothing to watch him. It looked like he was doing something known by everyone, him looking around here and there and gracing someone with a smile. But halfway through the song, you realized that it was more intimate than that. He treated the piano like it was his love, gentle and gazing at it with a sort of softness that would be hard to capture in words. You could tell how much he loved it. 

When he was done, you clapped. He could do nothing but bow his head and offer up a shy smile. “You’re really talented, Jae. Thank you for playing it.”

He waved you off. “Ah, no need to thank me. I’m just glad to play at all. Besides, the New Year is right around the corner.”

“She’s right, man. Whatever you do, don’t stop playing. It makes the world a lot more brighter getting to hear you play.” Mark’s words kept your smile dancing on your lips as you pulled your coat around you tighter. Your eyes trailed to the clock above the living room’s mantle. An uncontrollable sigh fell past your lips. 

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked you, his glimmering eyes searching yours. Maybe they were only glimmering to you. He always did have that soft glow to him that you felt was subtle. 

 “It’s 11:50. Ten minutes until-”

“Mark! Jae! Come here! The guys and I want to drink to commemorate the New Year!” Johnny’s voice thundered from the other side of the room. Jaehyun got up immediately, smiling at you before making his way over. Mark lingered, as if it were hard to walk away. 

“I’ll be right back,” He told you quickly. 

You couldn’t help but call out, “You sure?”

He looked back at you, a smile on his lips as he said, “Never been more sure about anything.”

Like clockwork, Soyeon appeared and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your other girl friends. You kept glancing in Mark’s direction, but she kept scolding you. With the help of one of Johnny’s coworkers, you all proceeded to take photos on her polaroid. A few of the photos were the two of you alone. The rest were with the other girls. You could feel yourself itching with the time ticking down. 

What you were nervous about, you didn’t know. Scratch that, deep down you knew. You just couldn’t tell if the midnight countdown was what you were nervous about or what came after. 

It was 11:56 when Mark joined you again. He sounded breathless, and his eyes were wide with an indiscernible emotion. His hair was more jostled, but to you he looked stunning. “Sorry. They kept pulling me back to talk.”

“It’s okay.”

You stared at each other. It felt like his glow was surrounding you then, the party quieter than it had been all night. Maybe it was the candle that was resting near the both of you, but he seemed to truly glow in your presence. Or maybe he was that spectacular. 

“The place is a mess,” He muttered near your ear, and your eyes swept the room. There was more glitter and confetti visible than the actual hardwood floor. The lights were dim, candles scattered and creating a mess of candle wax. People were conversing, most girls barefoot with their heels discarded off to the side. But for whatever reason, it was a memorable sight. “I’ll probably stay to help Johnny clean up the mess.”

“You’re a good friend.” It was like you both trying to fill the silence now, or fill the time until midnight. It was obvious now, obvious in the way that your bodies were magnetic and pulled together. Obvious in how his head was tilted toward you, your eyes never quite straying from each other. Prominent in how your fingers seemed to always find each other in some way, whether it be accidental or intentional. You wanted him to be your midnight, and what was worse is that you wanted him to be everything after. But that wasn’t how New Year’s worked. 

People merely kissed on New Year’s Day and moved on, never giving it a second thought. The thought dissipated your smile completely.

“You okay?” You couldn’t find the word. You merely nodded. He searched your face, his fingers once again skimming the side of your hand. Did he even know what he was doing? At the end of the night, it was going to be as usually was, and this was the first time it hurt at the thought. “I’m going to grab us a drink.” 

You agreed quietly, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. It was only a few beats later that you looked around, noticing all of Johnny’s guests gathering in the room. Just as you realized why, they started the countdown. 

Ten. Nine.

You weaved your way through the people, trying to be as quick as possible without being rude.

Eight. Seven.

Soyeon had been on the money somehow. There was someone you wanted to spend your midnight with, but you had let him go get a drink instead of being near you.

Six. Five.

You spotted him, your heart lifting in relief as he exited the kitchen looking like he was in a hurry.

Four. Three.

As you neared, another girl stepped closer to him, saying something to him and grabbing his attention.

Two.

Her hand cupped his cheek and turned it to her. 

One.

You turned, not sure why you had believed that maybe there was a chance that something would happen tonight. Before this night, you hadn’t expected anything from Mark Lee. So you weren’t sure what had changed in the span of a few hours. But you didn’t blame yourself.

He was extraordinary, after all.

Happy New Year!

You don’t know where the glitter was coming from, all of it being thrown in the air and filling the air. You laughed, noticing how it made the moment feel a little magical. Someone stepped in front of you, and you peered up to notice Taeyong. 

He was giving you a friendly smile, leaning to your ear and shouting over the noise, “Happy New Year! Mind if we share a kiss?”

You pulled away and shot him a funny look, laughing before leaning over to his ear. “Weird way to word it. But yes. Happy New Year, Yong!” It was a quick kiss, nothing romantic but still magical in the sort of way it feels on a day like this one. 

Three hours passed after that. Nothing really special happened, save for a few entertaining and drunk mishaps. You hung around Soyeon, reminiscing and getting to know a few of the friends she had yet to introduce to you. Some times weren’t really monumental, likely to be forgotten once you moved on from this day. Eventually, the sober guests started heading out and the drunk ones either found themselves sleeping or catching a driver home. One by one, the party started dying. 

Somehow, you found yourself among the four-person party who was helping clean up the big mess that had been left behind. Soyeon must’ve disappeared intentionally, and if you weren’t tired yourself you would hunt her down. Instead, you silently picked up discarded cups and other items and shoved them in a trash bag. 

Four turned to three when Sicheng explained that his driver was here for him. He did a round of hugs, before he bid his final goodbye. Three turned to two when Johnny mumbled that he was going to go look for Soyeon, and never really returned. 

It was you and Mark left. 

At first, you kept your distance. Not out of hostility, but out of courtesy. You wondered to yourself if the New Year, and the new day, had severed the connection that had been discovered on the last day of 2018. 

Eventually, it seemed that previous magnet had reappeared. Your bodies slowly drew closer, each of you respectively keeping your distance as you picked up trash. It was only when both of you kneeled down and reached for the same bottle that your eyes found each other.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Mark,” You held that bottle between you as if it were a lifeline, neither of you letting go. But maybe that was what you both needed, a sign from each other. “Guess we both stayed.”

“Guess so.”

You stayed staring at each other like that, drinking each other in like you were the last page of a book. Smiles soon built on each of your faces. Later on, maybe you could joke that the empty champagne bottle was the reason you guys discovered what you both were harboring. But for now, you held onto that bottle.

The both of you left, the house still a mess, but less so with the help of the two of you. You walked out, your eyes taking the glitter everywhere and feeling your heart settle. It was a memorable night, indeed.

The two of you rode in the same taxi. Not much was spoken between you, but your fingers spoke for you as they inevitably found each other in the darkness of the cab. They held on tightly, Mark squeezing your hand for warmth or for a sign, you didn’t know. You squeezed his hand back.

When you arrived at your home, you stared at him for a moment. You wondered if things would return back to how they were before, your eyes studying his face in the back of the dim taxi. Mark Lee and his disheveled hair, his child-bright eyes and excited chatter. Mark Lee and his soft glow that he carried, drawing you in and making you feel like you belong. He squeezed your hand, and somehow that told you all you needed to know.

Yes, you found him before midnight. When midnight had struck, unfortunately, you didn’t get to share that moment. But that didn’t matter, because he was going to be every midnight after.

Leaning over, you brushed your lips across his cheek, holding it there for a moment. When you pulled away, he broke his hand away from yours to graze his fingertips where you had kissed him. He nervously chuckled before he looked at you. 

“I have a good feeling about this year,” He uttered, his eyes bright for a different reason now.

“Goodnight, Mark Lee.”

[c-j-writes]

Fictober 2019

Prompt #7 “No, and that’s final.”

[Untitled Gay Mess]

Rating: T

Warnings/Tags: Will involve drug abuse in later chapters

Chapter Seven

Friday rolled around faster than I would’ve liked. It took Sophie a few more attempts to convince me, but here I was limping up the steps to some fancy house with music pumping out of the open windows. Sophie and Derrick were ahead of me, walking like they couldn’t keep their balance without leaning on each other. I shouldered my way through the door and glanced around. Derrick was already dragging Sophie over to some of his swim team friends.

Some football players yelled at me and raised their plastic cups. I nodded in their direction and kept making my way further into the house. If I was going to stay here, I needed to find the alcohol. Going to a party always meant drinking, so I’d skipped my pain meds this morning just in case. I didn’t need to fuck around and kill myself from mixing oxy with alcohol. Unfortunately, that meant my ankle was shooting with pain. 

The house was a maze, one that I’d never actually been to, so I was stumbling around blind for a few minutes. Eventually, I’d made a huge loop and was back in the front room. With a huff, I looked around for a seat because I had to get off of this damn foot. Just as I took off for a spot on the couch across the room, I felt someone grab my shoulder. 

I whipped around as fast as I could, almost tripping on one of my crutches. 

“Woah,” Liam laughed, jumping back as dramatically as he could. “Didn’t mean to scare you like that, Andy.” Hint to guys everywhere: don’t grab a girl’s shoulder like you’re about to kidnap her. 

“It’s cool,” I muttered. I shifted my weight onto my arms, even though they were sore as hell. Liam noticed my discomfort and immediately tapped a guy who was sitting in a lounge chair next to us. 

“Hey, man, can you move, Andy needs a seat.” The boy didn’t look thrilled, but he couldn’t just ignore the host. I didn’t appreciate that he assumed I needed help, but I wasn’t about to turn down the help. 

With a small smile, I sat down and leaned my crutches on the arm of the chair. It felt so good to sit down. It wasn’t like I’d been on my feet nonstop all day, but my arms and my right leg were so sore from three straight days of getting around on the crutches. The weekend was calling to me like an oasis. Two days straight of laying around the house and not worrying about anything. 

“Do you want a drink?” Liam grinned down at me. He had short black hair and his incredibly white teeth shone through his dark complexion. He was good looking, I’d give him that. This was annoying because it made it harder to figure out what excuse I was going to give Sophie as to why exactly I wouldn’t give him a chance. 

“I’d love a drink.” Liam nodded and took off down a hallway across the room. Maybe I could just pretend. He seemed nice. Maybe I could humor him and go on a few dates. It would get Sophie off my ass. I mean, the last boyfriend I’d had wasn’t terrible. It was just the kissing that I couldn’t deal with. He had been trying to grow a beard, so kissing him was like making out with sandpaper. I could’ve probably kept up with faking it if it hadn’t been for that. 

My mind went back to earlier today, during my tutoring block with Kloe. I hadn’t been able to stop watching the way she twirled her hair around her finger while she was thinking. And the soft curve of her eyes. And the gentle way she smiled. 

I couldn’t fake it.

Liam appeared next to me holding two cups and grinning. I took one and painted on my best flirty smile. 

After an hour or two, I felt rested enough and wanted to do some exploring. I still hadn’t talked to most of my friends since the end of last school year, so I was overdue for some catching up. Liam had stopped to talk to one of his teammates and I lost him. Not that I particularly cared, the guy did not know how to hold a conversation without bringing up the damn football game. 

Upstairs was off-limits because I was not about to struggle my way up a flight of stairs in front of this many people. I found a second living room somewhere along the way and met up with a few girls from the team that hadn’t made it to practice when I had my accident. They had more drinks, it was beer but it was something and my leg still needed numbing. 

By the time I had made it around the house a good few times, my body was buzzing. It had been a long time since I’d been anywhere near drunk. I’d stayed away from parties all summer, so the big end of the year party was the last time I’d had more than one drink at a time. My limbs felt floaty, which was a welcome difference from the aching they’d been doing lately. It was nice being here with all the people I’d known for years, not having to think about the future or my grades or anything. 

I was just about to head out to the pool and see what was happening out there when I passed the kitchen and couldn’t help but stop to search for another shot. It was fairly late at night, so the kitchen was empty. I’d been searching around for a few minutes in the cabinets when I heard a set of footsteps behind me. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I glanced back at whoever had entered the room. 

“Who even invited you?” I snapped at Mack. She just stared at me with that goddamn smile on her face. The one that showed too much of her chipped front tooth and gave one of her cheeks a dimple but not the other. “Stop it,” I said to her before she could answer.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Stop what?” Her voice was filled with the laughter she was holding in and I had to glare to stop thinking about the sound of her laugh. Deep and bubbly at the same time. 

“Smiling at me.” My head was wavy from the alcohol, so I didn’t remember that I wasn’t supposed to be looking at her. I looked down at my feet and stared at my bright green ankle for a few seconds. Then my head went to the reason I had the stupid cast on and the anger in me started festering, so I looked back up.

“Why can’t I smile at you, Andrea?” Her eyes kept getting brighter and it was just making me angrier. Why couldn’t she just play the damn part? If she played the part like I did then I could’ve introduced her to my friends, we could hang out all the time. I could see her and not have to keep myself from staring. 

“My name is Andy, get it through your fucking skull already.” I stepped forward, trying to look tough, but failing when I remembered that she was half a foot taller than me. She giggled and looked down at her feet.

“I know your name, but nobody calls you Andrea, so it makes me feel special.” When she looked back up at me her eyes were soft and warm and before I knew it, we were on the beach. She had just opened her heart like no one ever had to me and I felt so many emotions that my brain didn’t work right. And as I stood there trying to think of something to respond with that wouldn’t make me look like a fool, she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. The butterflies in my stomach exploded and I almost lost my balance from how unimaginably perfect it felt. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Mack turned her head to the doorway and smiled. I shook myself out of my daydreams and glanced over to see who’d walked in. 

“Hey, Kloe, I was just looking for a drink,” Mack replied. The blonde looked over at me and arched an eyebrow like she needed verification. 

“Yeah, uh… there’s nothing in here, I was looking,” I muttered. My face heated up as it usually did when I was in her presence. It was like she was some kind of force of nature that made me completely lose my shit. Mackenzie looked between the two of us and chuckled to herself. Kloe just nodded and looked over to her. 

“Do you have any idea where the bathroom is?” 

“I think I saw it down the hall like around the corner?” Mack pointed out of the room and to the left. With a nod, Kloe took off. I expected Mack to follow her, but she stayed leaning against the wall by the door and stared at me.

“Wow, I thought I was the only girl you had eyes for?” With that, my anger came hurtling back full force. 

“Fuck you, Mack.” I pushed past her, limping out of the room and down the hall. The pool area was crowded with people who would normally look familiar, but I wasn’t processing faces. All that I could think about was Mack and Kloe and how Mack still has some kind of ability to fuck with my head no matter how much I tried to block her out of it. I wanted to rant to Sophie about it but I couldn’t. She wouldn’t get it because she doesn’t know and I can’t tell her. Not now. Not like this. It’s so complicated and she wouldn’t understand. I really just wanted to forget about all of it. 

Sophie was sitting near the corner of the screen when I found her. There were two guys next to her that I honestly didn’t recognize. I glanced around the area, surprised that Derrick was nowhere to be found. 

“Ands!” Soph screamed, standing up and almost falling on her face in the process. She stumbled over to me and grabbed onto my shoulders. “Ands, oh my God, I have been looking for you.” Her eyes looked out of focus, but I knew mine probably were so I didn’t worry about it. She was probably just as drunk as I was. 

“I’ve been inside, it’s not like I blend in that much,” I commented, lifting one of my crutches to emphasize my point. 

“Your leg! Your leg probably hurts, right? I know exactly how you can make it feel better.” 

“I mean, I don’t really feel it that much to be honest.” Sophie wasn’t listening though, she just turned around and grabbed something from one of her buddies before coming back and pushing something into my hand. I looked down and immediately clapping my hands together.

“Sophie, are these drugs?” I whispered to her. She giggled, covered her mouth with one of her hands and nodding. “What the hell are you doing with these? Why the fuck would you give them to me?” I shoved them back at her, but she pushed my hand away.

“It’ll help your leg, so it won’t hurt anymore. It’ll make you feel so good.” She smiled as if nothing were wrong and we were bickering over some candy and not an illegal substance. 

“I can’t be caught with this shit, I could get kicked off the team.” She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be a party pooper, Ands, come on, it’s fun.” She grabbed my hands and lifted them in the air. I almost lost my balance and one of my crutches fell over. Sophie just kept giggling. With a huff, I pulled away.”

“Sophie, no, and that’s final.” One of her friends stood up to grab my crutch for me. “Thank you.” He nodded. When I looked back at Soph, she just looked disappointed. 

“Damn, Ands, you sound like my mother, why don’t you ever just have a little fun?” She looked at me like I’d grown a new head and suddenly, I barely recognized my best friend. The anger that had been bubbling up in me from Mack came back to the surface, but I kept myself from saying anything I’d regret and I just turned around and walked away from Soph as fast as I could, given that I was crippled. 

I rushed through the house, ignoring anyone who tried to say anything. Blood was pumping through my ears louder than anyone around me. I just booked it for the front door and didn’t look back.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 25)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 5.7k story words: 202.4k (so far) chapter: 25/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: @auroraphilealis kicked my ass into gear tonight because i got home and she was like... are you tired... because you could post tonight. and then patiently sat there with me while i edited.

a/n2: shorter than normal, but it’s been less than a week? i think? you better hope good things come in small(er) packages. also a bit more homophobia than normal this chapter, be safe kids. don’t let people talk to you like this if you can help it.

“Isabella,” Dan muttered, empty and shaken. It took him nearly a full second of staring at her to meet her eyes.

She was perched on the back of the lobby sofa, her long legs stretched out in front of her, hooked at the ankle. In her hands was a manila envelope — something that seemed incredibly out of place given the rest of her sultry, borderline inappropriate, appearance. Two months ago, Dan’s eyes would have traced over her curves in the tight dress, probably gotten turned on by the fact that it was so short that he would definitely be able to see her lacy underwear if he just bent down a little. Her hair was in immaculate loose curls, her makeup overstated and dark. She hadn’t changed a bit since Dan had seen her last.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite me up, Danny?” Isabella asked, one eyebrow raised, a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips. Pointed, blood red nails drummed against the yellow envelope as she waited impatiently.

The question was enough to finally shake Dan from his numb stupor. His eyes flickered to Todd, who was watching the scene carefully and looked ready to intervene if necessary. Their eyes met, and Todd quirked his head, silently questioning if Dan needed help. Not bothering to be subtle about it, Dan held up one finger and shook his head.

“Well, Danny?” Isabella asked — taunted more like.

Dan’s attention snapped back to her, his blood nearly boiling just from the thirty seconds of interaction. “Definitely not,” Dan spat harshly, spinning around without a second glance, storming off towards the lift. Isabella had always had the tendency to bring out the most… passionate side of him. Usually not in an attractive way.

He only got a few strides away before Isabella was calling after him again. “Oh, but I really think you should. I’ve got something that I think you’ll be very interested in.”

Dan slowly, warily turned around. Isabella had stood up, and was smugly fanning herself with the envelope. Dan’s mind sorted through possibilities, trying to figure out what it could possibly be — if there was anything that would be important enough that he’d willingly let her into his flat. He was coming up short, though. Whatever was in that envelope was a mystery to him.

“What is that?” Dan forced out through gritted teeth, eyes fixed on the envelope.

“Something special for you. See, I’ve got a meeting with Tatler on Friday, and I think we should talk about what I’m going to say,” Isabella explained. Her voice was dripping with forced honey; she was talking to him like he was a small child.

The small amount of blood that had still been in Dan’s face drained away.

Suddenly, it seemed like there could be a lot of things in the envelope: his sexuality, Phil, a distorted version of their break up…

All things Dan wasn’t keen on Isabella spilling to the public.

Unsubtly, Isabella shifted her gaze to Todd. “Away from prying ears.”

“Todd,” Dan said as he tore his eyes from Isabella to look at the doorman. “I’ll ring down if I need you. Be on alert, please.”

“Yes Mr. Howell,” Todd agreed. The familiar, polite smile that he usually sported had been replaced with a grim look of concern. His brows were furrowed together, his eyes alert, his chest puffed out. He looked ready for action.

The clack clack clack of Isabella’s stilettos echoed as she crossed the lobby, a wicked smile pulling her lips too tightly against her teeth. With a resigned sigh, Dan followed her, feeling like he was marching to his grave, not his own flat.

Dan wordlessly pushed the call button for the lift, worriedly spinning his key back and forth in his hands. When the lift doors opened, Dan stalked forward silently, Isabella following behind without any further invitation.

A flurry of emotions — anger, disappointment, fear — was making Dan’s hands tremble. Three times, he unsuccessfully tried to guide his key into the correct slot, his shaking hands missing every time. With every failed attempt, he felt the intensity of Isabella’s stare increasing, felt her disdain growing.

His fourth attempt was interrupted by a loud, derisive scoff. “Do you have nail polish on?”

Dan tugged the sleeves of his jumper over his hands, suddenly self conscious about his nails again. Using his clothed knuckle, Dan jabbed the button for his flat before protectively crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I thought only fags did that,” she ridiculed, sounding repulsed. “Oh wait, I forgot. You’re a little queer boy aren’t you?”

Dan tried not to flinch, tried not to let her see how much the words had affected him. They sounded far too much like the playground taunts he’d endured in primary school, the jeers of the boys on the football team in sixth form.

Phil likes them, Dan’s mind supplied weakly as he tried to block her out. Her opinion of him didn’t matter anymore — and, really, never did. He just wanted to find out what she had in that fucking envelope and get her out of his life again.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to end.

He was supposed to have been able to curl up in bed, maybe watch a cheesy rom-com while drinking a glass of wine, and fall asleep still high on his date with Phil. Instead, he was currently stuck in the most tense lift ride in history, with his ex-girlfriend, all while trying to push through the gnawing feeling in his stomach that something was very, very wrong.

Dan was so on edge that the ding of the lift doors startled him, causing him to jump and yelp quietly. Isabella laughed at him — a laugh full of contempt and judgement. Ashamed, Dan ducked his head and led the way off the lift.

He came to a halt in the foyer, not wanting to let her further into the flat if avoidable. The closer she was to the exit, the easier it would be to throw her out once Dan figured out what the bloody hell she was after.

Dan stared at her anxiously, his eyes pointedly flicking down to her hands.

He expected her to tell him what the fuck this was about, but she brushed straight passed him, deliberately ignoring Dan’s obvious attempts to keep her out of his flat. Frustrated, Dan trailed after her, following her closely down the hallway and, apparently to the lounge.

His path was cut short, though, when she abruptly stopped just inside the lounge entrance, and he ran smack into her.

“What the fuck, Izzy?” Dan bellowed, confused and annoyed. She was the one who’d wanted to go further into Dan’s flat. What the fuck had she stopped for? Dan pushed around her, taking the state of the lounge. Everything about it screamed date— and date with a man, at that. The white flowers looked lovely on the bar cart, situated between two untouched glasses of red wine. The rest of the lounge though… well, frankly, the rest of the lounge was kind of a hot mess.

The sofa pillows were all knocked the floor. The blanket was disheveled and had a very distinct white streak on it — and the towel on the sofa was covered in matching, obvious stains. There was an open bottle of lube on the coffee table, a few drops of which appeared to have leaked out now that Dan was looking more closely.

Dan wasn’t exactly sure what he expected from Isabella, but it was probably something along the lines of a screaming fit followed by having the flowers thrown mercilessly at his head. What he didn’t expect, was Isabella huffing dramatically but entering the room without comment, carefully skirting around all of the dubious objects to sit on the rarely used armchair.

She sat primly, on the very edge of the chair, her thin legs crossed in front of her. Dan wondered, briefly, if she was sitting so precariously because she was uncomfortable — he wondered if she thought maybe they’d fucked on that chair.

He almost wished they had. He almost wished he’d bent forward over the cushion and let Phil take him from behind. Almost wished that he’d come all over the cushion and not bothered to clean it up, wished that he’d stained the spot she was sitting.

From her perch, Isabella’s scornful eyes scanned the room, but she didn’t make any comment about the state of the lounge— even though it was painfully clear what had happened earlier. Somehow, the silent disapproving was almost more hurtful than a snide comment would have been.

Chucking the soiled towel to the side, Dan settled onto the sofa. He picked up one of the discarded pillows and hugged it close to his chest, relishing the small bit of comfort it provided, and waited.

“I’m not asking to get back together. It’s clear that…” Her eyes dropped down to the lube in front of Dan, “That you’re with the tarado from the coffeeshop,” Isabella finished, her voice alarmingly neutral despite the derogatory language.

Dan jerked his head once in an attempt at nodding. It was taking every single bit of Dan’s self control to be civil right now, and he knew if he opened his mouth, nothing but hate would come out.

“I’ve come to make you an offer. One that I think could be very beneficial for both of us.”

Ah hah! Dan thought bitterly, that was why she was being so calm, so un-Isabella. She wanted something from him. Of course she did. All Isabella had ever done was take take take. Why would it be any different now?

“Consider it a no,” Dan spat.

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say, Danny. That’s very rude.”

“Well, I think you’re a bitch, so. Forgive me.”

Isabella closed her eyes, long fake lashes fluttering against her cheeks, and took a few deep breaths — apparently Dan had managed to rattle her a bit. Good.

Her eyes opened again and she flashed Dan a forced smile. “Like I was saying. I’m making you an offer.” Dan opened his mouth to rebut again, but Isabella held up a hand to silence him. “As you may have seen, my appearance in the media has… gone down some since we stopped dating.”

Her voice was tense, and it looked like she was barely managing to retain her dignity during the admission. Dan bit back a hateful laugh, and merely nodded in acknowledgement.

Not that he was… completely certain what he was agreeing to. He’d hardly kept up with her media presence since he’d dumped her. In fact, he’d blacklisted her name wherever possible, so… yeah. He had no real idea.

It was a little satisfying to hear she’d fallen from grace, though.

Isabella continued, her tone carefully even. “And I’ve noticed that rumors have been flying around about you and that —” Isabella stopped abruptly, seeming to choose a nicer word at the last second. “Boy.”

Dan nodded again. His teeth dug into his lip so harshly that, if he was less worried about what Isabella was getting at, he’d be worried that he was drawing blood.

“I think we should get back together — publically,” she added hastily before Dan could react. “And if you want to keep dating the pen — Phil, that’s fine.”

Dan’s jaw dropped. For several seconds, all he was capable of doing was staring at her, trying to process, trying to figure out if she’d really just said that.

When the meaning of her words finally sunk in — that she apparently wanted to be his beard — indignant anger roared up again. “And what,” he cried, “You’ll keep fucking around with other guys?”

Isabella flinched at Dan’s harsh word choice, but clearly tried to remain pleasant. “It’s only fair that I’m allowed to see other people, if you are,” she replied haughtily. Her tone was blunt, terse.

“Really?” Dan finally let out the bitter laugh he’d been holding back. “As I recall, you took the liberty of seeing other people even when I wasn’t allowed to.”

“Suétalo,” Isabella said dismissively. She finally opened the envelope and pulled out two small stapled packets. “I had a contract made for us, and printed one out for each of us. Don’t worry, the lawyer is a very discreet man.” Isabella slid one of the packets across the table, narrowing missing the small puddle of lube. “The terms are listed on the second page.”

In a daze, Dan leaned forward and plucked the contract off the table, setting his phone down in exchange. He turned the page to see what Isabella was talking about. It was long — like, it appeared to carry onto the next page long.

“As you’ll see,” Isabella started, opening her packet to the same page. “We’ll go on two dates together each week, unless one of us is traveling. At least one date will be on a weekend night, and both dates will include drinks and dinner. I will attend all events with you, as your date. Charity events, publicity events, award shows, and other work events do not count as one of the two weekly dates.”

Dan’s eyes followed along on the paper, where each term was written in excruciating detail.

“You will start coming to my work events,” Isabella read off the next point on the list. Chillingly, this was the most professional and direct Dan had ever heard her sound — a change that was definitely alarming. “You will attend all runway shows I am a part of, and bring at least one famous friend — Phil doesn’t count.” Phil’s name still sounded like a curse word on Isabella’s lips, but at least she was using his name. “You will also stop by any major photoshoots I have. I want the media to see you actively supporting my modeling career.”

Dan’s mind was reeling. Fleeting pictures of runway shows flashed through his mind. They’d be boring, unbelievably dull. Especially since she tended to do a lot of shoots for high end women’s lingerie — something he was never planning to buy again.

Well, maybe not never, Dan thought as his eyes caught on his own nails.

Isabella continued on, not noticing that Dan’s mind was drifting. “We will also maintain a constant social media presence. We will both post at least one picture or tweet about each date, in addition to at least two other posts per week.”

Out of habit, Dan’s eyes flickered to his phone at the mention of social media, and he saw that it was lighting up with what looked like a third message from Phil. Dan really wished he could lean forward and look at them right now.

“Every other month, we will go on a trip together, which will all be at least a long weekend. Vacations can be a part of international work events, but posting on twitter and instagram is expected to increase.”

Dan looked back at the page, his eyes falling on the last term just as she mentioned it.

“And of course, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but you’ll obviously limit the amount of time that you’re seen in public with Phil. You won’t be seen out with him at nights, and if you get food together, you will always eat at predetermined unromantic restaurants.”

Everything about this was bullshit — there wasn’t a single term or idea that Isabella had presented that seemed rational or acceptable to Dan. He’d hardly even bothered to pay attention as she was reading off the contract, but this rule — the implication that he’d never get to have a night like tonight again —

That was the last straw.

Dan threw his contract onto the table, noticing that it definitely landed in the little puddle of lube. Good.

“Why the fuck would I agree to any of this?” Dan seethed.

“It’s the perfect solution. You’ll be in a relationship, so everyone will stop speculating about you and that boy. And at night, you can—” her eyes flicked down meaningfully to the bottle of lube on the coffee table, “— get fucked without anyone knowing you prefer it up the ass.”

“I don’t just bot—” Dan snapped his mouth shut before he could say any more of that sentence. That wasn’t a conversation worth having. “I’m not going to let Phil be my dirty little secret.”

“But isn’t that what’s already going to happen?” she asked simply, patronizingly. “You’re not coming out, so you’re going to have to limit your public interactions, anyway. This way, you have the added benefit of having a girlfriend.” Isabella smirked widely, looking like she well won the fight already. “People won’t pay as much attention to you and Phil.”

Fuck, Dan hated, hated the fact that there was a shred of sense in what she was saying. He was going to have to be subtle with Phil — not that he’d never had to do that in the past — and a fake relationship with Isabella really would do wonders about the rumors that were already circling, would be just enough for people’s heteronormative minds to make them stop questioning his sexuality.

“And what happens if I don’t say yes?” Dan demanded roughly.

“Well, see I already have a meeting set up with Tatler, and I did promise them an inside scoop…” Isabella trailed off suggestively, a look of mock concern on her face.

“Cancel, then,” Dan ordered through gritted teeth.

“Oh Danny, that would be so rude though!” She batted her eyes, her voice falsely sweet. “I’d have to give them a different story.”

A feeling of dread washed over Dan, rushing from his stomach all the way up his throat.

“What story?” he managed to ask.

“Turn to the next page, and read along under breaches of contract,” Isabella prompted, a note of triumph in her voice — a tone that made Dan very wary.

Dan did as she said, and found nearly an entire page of her loopy, cursive handwriting — presumably so the lawyer wouldn’t know the contents. Heart pounding, Dan tried to skim the paragraph, but his hands were shaking so much that the paper was illegible.

He didn’t really need to read, anyway, because Isabella was smiling a vicious grin, leaning forward and explaining herself. “I’d have to tell them about how during our whole relationship, you were interested in men and fantasized about them — and even how you made me wear a strap on when we had sex. About how you were determined to stay together because you wanted people to think you were straight, because you didn’t want to be gay.”

Dan’s heart wasn’t pounding anymore. In fact, it felt like it had completely stopped, and crash landed into his stomach. He wasn’t ashamed of liking men, had never wanted to not be attracted to them. It was just easier to explain to the media. But still, he’d never… strictly adhered to gender roles. He knew he had a fairly large LGBTQ+ fanbase — a fanbase that would be crushed to hear that he supposedly held such internally homophobic views.

Isabella didn’t stop speaking, still sounding smug and triumphant. Dan listened — painfully forced himself to listen — as he stared at the uncapped lube on the table.

“And then,” Isabella gasped in mock horror. “Imagine my horror when I came over one night and caught you in bed with Phil, getting fucked from behind…”

Fuck her, Dan cursed internally. He hadn’t even had the chance to do that with Phil yet, and here she was putting these false, horrible images in his head. Images of him and Phil not being as good as they’d been, images of Dan finally getting to feel Phil only to have Isabella burst in.

They’d been so fucking good for months. These weren’t the images of their first time that should be flooding Dan’s mind. Especially not tonight.

“I’m so scarred from it, it was so hurtful.” Isabella wiped away a fake tear, her long pointed nails smudging the black eyeliner under her eyes. “And then I’ll tell them how we tried to fix our relationship, how you told me to sleep with other men because you knew you weren’t man enough for me.”

The knife in Dan’s gut dug a little deeper, twisted a little further. On top of it all — the accusations about his confidence, his pride in his sexuality, his dignity… to add on the fact that Isabella cheating had been his suggestion.

Fuck. Dan’s eyes snapped shut, tears on the verge of spilling out. He felt one leak out, trickle down the side of his nose, and he willed it to disappear. Willed Isabella to not see it. Willed himself to not wipe it away and draw Isabella’s attention to how deeply she was affecting him.

“And,” Isabella sighed melodramatically, her dark-stained lips pulled into a nefarious grin. “In the end, I had to leave you because it was too much pressure and too much shame. You begged me to stay, but I had to do what was right for—”

“You fucking wouldn’t,” Dan seethed, cutting her off before she could finish her story. “Not a single fucking detail of that is true.”

Isabella cackled — literally cackled; her head fell back, a humourless laugh mocking Dan. “It’ll be my word against yours, though. And the media usually sides with the victim.” Isabella shook her head, and shot Dan a look filled with insincere pity. “But if you’re willing to risk it…”

“You bitch,” Dan roared, interrupting her again. He leapt to his feet — to do what, he wasn’t sure. “You signed a non-disclosure agreement! I could sue you for going public about my sexuality!”

“You could,” Isabella agreed, but the smirk on her face made Dan feel like he’d just lost another battle, not won one. “But it wouldn’t be a quiet trial, and when people found out you were suing me because I told the media that you weren’t straight, that would just confirm my story in their eyes.”

Dan’s heart was beating roughly against his chest, his mind speeding through a million different scenarios as he tried to make sense of what Isabella had said, tried to figure out if there was a different way to spin it.

Shit, fuck.

Dan sunk down back into the sofa, defeated. That was exactly how it would appear. And the media probably would side with her, the story she’d concocted would tarnish any good reputation he had.

And Phil.

Fuck. Phil.

Phil’s entire livelihood depended on his personality, his brand. Having an affair was about as off brand as it got for Phil. It would probably destroy him. Dan, at least, made music — music that some people would continue to listen to even after finding out he was a piece of shit. But Phil would probably lose everything. And, shit, it would break Phil’s heart if he viewers thought he was capable of such immoral behavior.

“I — I need to think about this,” Dan muttered. Against his will, he crumpled forward, his legs drawing up into his body. He was so fucking overwhelmed, so hurt. Tears pricked at his eyes again, and this time he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold them back.

To his surprise, Isabella dropped the other contract onto the table and stood up. “You have until five tomorrow evening to drop off both signed copies at my flat. If they aren’t there when I get home from work, I’m telling the other story.”

Dan didn’t have it in him to look up. The tears in his eyes were rapidly accumulating, and he was afraid that if he looked at her, if he met her eyes, he’d well and truly break down.

Her heels clacked loudly as she rounded the table, coming to a stop directly in front of Dan. Her long, manicured fingers reached under his chin and tipped his head up. A loud, wet kiss was pressed to his forehead, surely leaving behind a perfect dark red mark from her lipstick.

Her lips felt like fire against his forehead — and not in a good way. It took all of his strength to not recoil, to not give her the satisfaction of knowing that she’d intimidated him.

“I own you, Dan Howell,” she whispered in his ear.

For a split second, Dan was worried that the pretty cocktail, the expensive wine, the fancy dinner, would all come back up. The fear wracked his body so hard, so aggressively, that Dan was sure that he was about to throw up.

With a rough swallow, Dan forced himself to look up. His eyes followed her as she crossed the room, watching as she came to a halt by the bar cart and spun around again. A wicked smile painted her face, a devilish glint in her eyes. Her hip popped out, one hand dramatically resting on it.

“Remember Dan,” Isabella threatened, her voice dropping low and properly angry for the first time tonight. “If you don’t sign or if you, say, try to tell the media about this little arrangement tomorrow, I’ll just —” She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, the mirth on her face ruining the illusion. Two fingers delicately pushed on the flower vase with just enough force to send it toppling to the floor. There was a loud crash as the vase shattered, water running everywhere, the flowers falling limply amongst the debris. “Spill. See you tomorrow, Danny.”

A loud screech hurt Dan’s ears as she turned abruptly, her stilettos scraping across the wood floors. Dan tore his eyes from her swinging hips, his gaze shifting to his feet. Looking up, looking at Isabella’s retreating form, the damage of the flowers, the contract on the table, it was all too much. His sleek, black shoes were a better place for his attention right now.

When the lift dinged, the unsigned contracts and destroyed vase were the only evidence that Isabella had been there at all. Well, that and Dan’s crushed soul.

Mechanically, Dan started to kick his shoes off. He got one foot half free before he realized that it would be better to leave them on because of the shards of glass.

“Jesus on a fucking tricycle,” Dan muttered under his breath, his brain not fully grasping on to everything just yet. He shakily pushed himself off the sofa, and shoved his phone into his back pocket. He’d deal with Phil’s messages later, when he could stand it better.

Dan made his way to the kitchen, trying his best to sidestep around the scattered flowers — it was a pretty crap attempted, admittedly, given the loud crunch of glass beneath his feet

The cabinets were barren, especially since he hadn’t replaced his mugs yet. He definitely didn’t own much by way of glassware. But still, he rummaged around his cabinets, desperately looking for something he could put the flowers in so that they wouldn’t die.

Everything he could find was far too short (like his drinking glasses) or far too fat (like his mixing bowls). In the sink, Dan spotted the drink pitcher, the one that he’d made gin and tonics for him and Phil in just two nights ago.

Good enough.

Dan dumped out the watery remnants of the drink, doing his best to rinse it out a little bit even though he barely had the emotional energy to even hold the heavy glass pitcher. Hot water swished through it once, twice, three times, and Dan hoped it would do, hoped that he’d gotten enough of the toxic liquor out that he wouldn’t kill his beautiful flowers instantly. Smacking the sink handle to the right, Dan waited for the water to get cold, and then shoved the pitcher under the stream of water, numbly watching the pitcher fill.

He must have zoned out, because all of a sudden the water was bubbling over and cascading down the sides. “Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” Dan muttered, slamming the handle down to stop the water flow, and carelessly dumping a portion of the water out.

Realistically, he’d probably dumped too much of the water out — it was only just barely half full now. Fuck, was he capable of doing anything right tonight?

He couldn’t bring himself to care, though. The flowers would have to deal with half a pitcher of water, at least for tonight.

Without bothering to wipe down the mess of water, Dan turned on his heel and took the drink pitcher back into the lounge.

Now that he’d had a few minutes of distance, the mess of the flowers looked even more disastrous. Before, he hadn’t realized just how shattered the vase was, hadn’t noticed the way the piece of glass he’d stepped on had turned to crumbs. He certainly hadn’t noticed the massive puddle of water that was slowly inching its way across the room.

Fuck.

He should have brought a towel.

And a maybe a rubbish bin for the glass, too.

He was such a useless fucking bastard.

He sunk down anyway though, his bum landing right in the middle of the water, probably sitting on a few pieces of glass, too — not that he was capable of feeling that right now. Dan numbly gathered the flowers, one by one, shaking each stem off before placing it in the new pitcher. One rose had snapped in half during the fall, the stem too short to let it stand with the others. It wasn’t perfect anymore. It, too, had been tainted by Isabella.

Dan considered throwing the stem out — hell, for a brief moment he considered throwing all the roses out — but he didn’t have the heart to do it. He wanted them, they were important to him. He just didn’t want them to have been fucking touched by Isabella.

Resigned, Dan shoved the broken flower in with the others, letting it fall all the way down, and pushed the pitcher away so he didn’t have to look at it right this second.

He turned his attention to the glass. The flat, heavy bottom of the vase was still intact, so Dan laid it out as a temporary place where he could pile the broken pieces. Shard by shard, Dan picked up the bits of glass, dropping them into a small mound. His hands were shaking far too much to be doing this. Each time he picked up a sliver of glass, he nearly cut himself. Objectively, he knew he should stop. He should just leave the mess, maybe text the maid and ask if she could come tomorrow instead of Friday, and go to bed.

But for some reason, Dan knew that the knowledge that the glass was sitting here, scattered around his lounge, would eat away at his soul. He knew he’d never be able to sleep if he didn’t at least try to fix it now.

He couldn’t fix Isabella tonight. He didn’t have any magic solutions, didn’t know how to make the whole situation go away. The one tiny fucking thing that he could do was to get rid of the damn glass.

So god fucking damn it, he was going to clean up this fucking mess.

And so Dan sat, methodically finding chunk after chunk, sliver after sliver, and adding them to the growing mountain of glass. Under the bar cart, there was a particularly jagged piece — it was all sharp angles and rough edges. Dan could tell it looked more dangerous than the rest. Nonetheless, he reached out for the shard anyway, his fingers slipping as he fumbled for the piece. The top of his finger scraped against it harshly, and Dan recoiled, his hand flying to his chest.

He looked down, expecting blood, but instead saw a small red scratch leading up to his nail — his previously perfect silver nail that now had a wobbly line drawn through it, the polish scraped away.

A sob caught in his throat, and Dan drew his knees up to his chest, letting the pain and anger finally wash over him. He was furious and hurt and scared and he had no fucking clue what to do.

So he pushed the mountain of glass away, let his head fall forward, and cried.

Sob after sob wracked his body, and soon he was gasping for air, his vision blurred with tears. His body was trembling, and tears were running down his face. The fancy Versace sweater was probably ruined by now, given how many times Dan had messily wiped his nose on it.

How long he cried for, he wasn’t sure, but eventually the insistent buzzing of his phone in his pocket drew him out of his stupor. Shifting as little as possible, Dan dug his phone out of his back pocket, sighing deeply when he saw the hairline crack that was now running across the screen.

Phil :) was calling, and Dan didn’t have the heart to pick up. If he answered it, Phil would be able to tell how upset he was, would wonder what had happened, if he’d done something…

Dan couldn’t enjoy the high from tonight any longer, but that didn’t mean Phil couldn’t. He’d call Phil tomorrow, explain to him the two shitty options — a fake relationship or a reputation wrecking story — in the morning. Dan pressed the side button, making the buzzing stop, and waited for the screen to go back to normal.

His eyes stared at the fracture in the screen, and drifted up to the pile of glass. He needed to not be alone, though. Not right now, not tonight. He needed help.

Dan unlocked his phone, and tapped call on the top contact in his favorites list.

The phone only rang twice.

“Dan? How was your date?”

“C-can y-ou,” Dan’s voice was wretched, his breaths too uneven for him to speak properly. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to collect himself. “I n-need you t-to come over h-here n-now.” A broken sob escaped Dan’s throat. “P-please,” he added.

“Of course, love.” A warm, concerned voice tried to console him. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

a/n: don’t kill me. 

[thedappleddragon]

exit 83 bootleg live reactions

because i already did it with the australian one

yaaaaay

good job jeremy actor

i wish i could see tho

aw the way his voice got soft when hesaid hero :D

also this is already a bop

wow rich wrote that really fast apperantly

a TINY nitpick (just because im used to the origional cast studio recording) jeremys actor could put in a touch more emotion. he’s not bad at all!!!! he’s good. just sayin

i wanna seeeeee

i take back me earlier comment about more emotion he’s great wow

holt sHIT when the croud screamed for michael?? honestly same

omg yayy we can see the set design! nice

i miss the scream before “im lstenin to marley”

awww my heart <3 he sounded so sympathetic with “how was class u look like ass whats wrong” he’s so sweet

boyf riends

“i hate this school” omg such an angry bab i love it

omg i love christine and her outfit is SO CUTE YES BITCH LONG SOCKS

whoever’s filming? same

oh my god my poor hEART HE’S SO SAD I LOVE IT

HOLY SHIT HE’S SO LONELY AND SAD I FEEL TERRIBLE

u can realy feel how alone he feels. just him singing and the soft piano and he blue lighting and noone on stage close to him? HOLY SHIT

HE’S SO PITIFUL I CANT HELP IT

o love how everyone slowly starts to dance again by first just kind of bouncing and then they turn around one by one? god i love whoever directed/choreographed this

oh he’s so nervous 

my bean <333

CHRISTIIIIINNEEEEE GOD I LOVE EVERY ITERATION OF HER 

im smiling like a doofus i love her and i cant get over how much i love her OUTFIT SHES SO CUTE

shes so bouncy and cute <333 god my weak gay heart

HOLY FUCK

there’s also a part of me that wants to do this

OBLOBLOBLBOBLBOBOBLBOBLO

I WAS NOT FUVKING PREPARED 

I WAS EXPECTING THE SCREAM

AND THE SHE SAYS “so i did it” SO MATTER-OF-FACT-LY 

GOD I LOVE HER

 “aw” honestly same

aw shes so cutesquirming in her chair from exitment

i stg i must hae ghostfilmed this because SAME

“our funds will be diverted to the frisby golf team” “YES” “omg jake”

ME

i feel like jake’s dialogue was kind of monotone and didnt have enough pauses

n the bathroom dialogue was kind of awkward with its pacing, but then again it could have been because of the audience talking. idk

SOAR BI

ITS FROM JAPAAAAAAN

but really rich’s actor is really good from what i can hear

AAAAA 2 PLAYER GAME honestly im not even mad that i cant see they sound amazing

the scamming realization is different but thats not a bad thing

i love michael

and i kind of like that they didnt lunge at every trumpet blare 

FUCKING HELL GOD DAMMI SHIT FUCK DAMN HOLY HELL WHY IIS MY SWEET BABY MICHAEL MELL DABBING MAKE IT STOP FUCKING SHIT LOL

LIKE ITS FUNNY IF HES DOING IRONICLY TO PISS OFF JEREMY (and that seems like a very michael thing to do) BUT ASDFGHJKKLQWEHRDFJGHVB

i am both enraged and laughing my ass off

also shit michael’s actor has a very nice lower vocal range

the legendary fall into the beanbags! yes!

oh my god theyre both such dorks <3

ok i couldnt see that well but apperantly the extras cleaning up the set were dressed as video game characters and omg? that’s genius 

um what’s going on with the drug dealer’s voice? are there 2 of them? is that their squip? i am confusion 

thats what makes it so... AWESOME 

aw... i really wanted to see the squip activate... or at least hear it... :(

HOLY SHIT THE SQUIP IS SUCH A GOOD SINGER

JEREMY asdfghjkl you’re so extra

i love how extra everyone is in this musical its gREAT

are they using a live band for the music? because the trumpet just fucked up

the squip is so EXTRA i wanna see himmmmm

also i just remembered the theory about hiw the trumper blare and the cutoff of the regge time beat was to simulate optic nerve blocking being turned on and it made me sad

but then i was unsad because i remebered how much of a fuckin BOP this whole musical is!!!

lol sarcastic play rehersal is great

in the “from a guy that id never be into” song (sorry i dont know the name) christine sounds less infatuated and more powerful. not sure i like it

lol jeremy’s crying lmao

its kind of funny how they solved the problem of not being able to portray that they were behind the school other than bird chirps and her blatently saying so

lol squip gay “just take me inside you”

oooOOOOOoooo rolling around on the floor? thats new

“extra circular activity” also its cute how he couldn hit that high note

WHY DOES JAKE SOUND LIKE FUCKING KERMIT THE FROG

I AM GOING TO KERMIT

AA I LOVE seeing michael so exited my good baby

wow really good lighting effects

“oh...” same 

“OH MY GOD” same just let me SEE

“i- ag- i drew it right!” lol holy shit

haha its funny watching the squip suffer

ooooooOOOOO THEYRE ROLLING OUT THE BATHTUB IM NOT REAY FOR ALL OF THESE EMOTIONS

that scream

the whole croud is ME aw-ing for michael

ok so u know how i like trans michael (what no im not stalling) what if trans michael is sitting in the bathroom and actually was on his peiod. oof

no imnot crying youre crying TT-TT

omg i completely forgot about all oft the siagogue between MITB and RSAFABDTH

wow all of the dancing in this is great

the squip is such a badass

also i jus noticed this is the first time he came down from his tower thing

OOOH and i assume all of the black figures resemble all of the squips he’s about to unleash upon the school? nice

i live for the squip’s “beep bop boop”s

seriously the squip is such a good villian 

i never really liked the pants song, but its not that bad

AAAAA I LOVE HOW THEY OPENED THE MIDSUMMER NIGHT WITH ZOMBIES thats so cute and cool

AWW Christine sounded do heartbroken :,( “what’s wrong with me now?” NOTHING SWEETIE I LOVE U <333

HOLY SHIT THIS IS SUPER GOOD

watching everyone get squipped is so much fun wow

“IIIIII NNNEEEEEEEEED MMOUUNTAIIIIINNN DEEEEEWWW REEEEEEEEEEED!!!!” lol oy cracks me up every time

MICHAEL MAKES AN ENTRANCE 

“give it to me!” “hey, wait! ......................no” “... but i need it D:>” holy shit i cant breathe

i dont think ive ever seen this banter n the middle of the play and im shitting myself laughing

*person filming is zooming in on michael and jeremy cuddling* me: big mood

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOH FUCK” BITCH IF THAT AINT ME

AAA THE SQUIPS DEATH WAS SO MUCH MORE DRAMATIC THAN I COULD HAVE EVER HOPED FOR HOLY SHIT

The girl filming while the squip dies: “no, not my daddy”

RICH MY LISPY BOY

im in awe

they’re all just bouncing up and down this is so cute

i always forget exactly how much i love this mudical but then i watch a booyleg and im sucked right back into bmc hell <3

awe man did u have to cut off right before the final note?

[relaxedreptile]

Trade

Pairing: Baekhyun X Reader

Swearing. Kissing. English Literature.

You were running your fingers through your hair, internally screaming as you thought about the position you had found yourself in.

There you were, standing in the bathroom of the Byun family home, pacing back and forth as water gushed out of the sink faucet continuously in order to conceal the sounds of your nervous footsteps.

You were on your fourth deep breath (in and out, in and out) when the sound of two knocks reached your ears.

You started panicking.

What if it was his brother? One of his parents? Or even worse, him.

“Are you okay in there, Y/N?” Baekhyun asked through the door. Of course.

Instead of answering, you unlocked the door and stood in the doorframe. You offered him a smile that was indeed fear-inducing but it was better than bursting out in tears or dropping to your knees and bowing to him.

Baekhyun and you were in the same English Literature class at your high school, in which you excelled and he apparently, did not. That’s why he approached your locker three days ago, flashed you a smile, and practically had you begging him to let you tutor him.

Okay, maybe you weren’t as dramatic on the outside, but that’s how you felt on the inside, and you were sure Baekhyun could tell or at the least, expect it. That’s the same effect he had on practically everyone at your school who was interested in guys.

So here there you were, being invited into the Byun home every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday to help Baekhyun with his studies.

Your cheeks were unnaturally pink and were getting warmer by the minute, despite trying to cool them down with frequent splashes of cool water from the bathroom sink. Copious amounts of mascara were slightly smudged from the desperate attempts, and your hair was fluffed up in a way that resembled your mom’s hair from when she was a teenager in the States because of your nervous fidgeting.

Baekhyun seemed like he wanted to say something (probably about your appearance) but instead he just clicked his tongue and strolled back to his bedroom, your footsteps mirroring his just a few feet behind him.

You were already an hour into our study session with only a half hour remaining and your focus hadn’t left the first question on the homework.

“Why did I even choose to take this damn class?” Baekhyun was imitating you mere minutes ago, running his fingers through his hair with his head hanging low on his neck. “Maybe because there’s no Korean Literature class?” His shoulders shifted upwards one then back down almost immediately, a single huff of breath escaping to act as a laugh. “You’re lucky, you were born in America for fuck’s sake. You have an unfair advantage!” “American or not, I’ve lived in Korea for nearly as long as you. I didn’t roll out of the womb reciting Shakespeare. “I wish I did,” Baekhyun admitted jokingly.

You could tell he was sick of being so behind and was insanely frustrated by how long it took for the concepts the class had to wrap their heads around to ‘click’ in his brain. You knew for a fact that the boy before you excelled when it came to Music Study and was even talented when it came to actually performing the music his fellow students were analyzing. No matter the style, Baekhyun’s voice twirled lyrics through sound waves in a way that left your ears begging for more and no matter the piece, Baekhyun’s long fingers could bring it to life with a piano.

You for one never really struggled with music, but wouldn’t hesitate to trade places with Baekhyun if you could. This kid could go places.

“You… you just need some motivation,” You supplied. Baekhyun wasn’t stupid, he just lost his footing when it came to studying a written work past an obvious meaning. Metaphors and explaining metaphors was his biggest weak spot, often brought to light by your ass of a professor in class.

Baekhyun leaned back onto the bed the two of you were sharing, his elbows propping up his body. The angle his body was laid out in revealed a sliver of skin that your brain registered out of the corner of your eye, but you forced yourself to avoid it because the last thing you needed was getting caught checking out your crush since seventh grade, the most attractive boy in South Korea, by that boy himself.

Of course, you still became flustered as you were not used to being in this close of a vicinity to Baekhyun regardless, and of course, Baekhyun was visibly amused and smirked.

“Then tell me, Y/N,” You liked the way he said your name, “how are we going to get me motivated?” You swallowed and thought for a moment before feeling a smirk of your own grow on your lips. “For every correct answer you give me, you’ll get a reward.”

This caught Baekhyun’s attention.

“What do you propose my reward be?” His tongue ran over his bottom lip before his teeth caught it and bit down gently.

Was this motherfucker flirting with you?

“To be honest, I didn't really get that far,” you both laughed, forming a sweet duet.

Baekhyun stared at you for a long moment before reaching for the notebook in your hands and the pencil laying discarded between your crossed legs.

“Tell you what…” Scribble, scratch. “I’m going to write down what I want my reward to be on this sheet of paper. When payment is due, I’ll reveal what I wrote and you must comply.” “Can’t you just show me what you wrote down right now?” You were a bit nervous. “No,” he stated simply and in a way that left no room for further discussion. “No?” “No,” he repeated. “I would prefer knowing what I’m promising before I make a deal, Baekhyun.” “But it’s more fun this way!”

You blame your loss of control on the stupid, most adorable fucking pout you had ever seen gracing your presence on Baekhyun’s face, instantly drawing your attention to his lips.

You forced your throat to swallow and stole a glance at the notebook, the reward-reveal facing towards Baekhyun’s chest.

“Fine. But you only get one chance to answer these correctly. I’ll help you through any you get wrong but-” “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he interrupted. “I need it right on the first time or no reward.”

“Question one…” “Is it bad that I’m excited?”

Baekhyun’s question just made the anxiety in the pit of your stomach expand.

“What aspects of Edgar Allan Poe’s past affected his outlook on life, in a way that was reflected in his writings?”

Baekhyun paused for a moment, sucked in a breath, and met your gaze. You held your ground.

“Poe had a shitty childhood. His parents were gone, he had no contact with his siblings, and he had a poor relationship with one of the people who took him under their wing. He saw life as a painful thing and couldn't truly enjoy it. He said himself that evil was a consequence of good because that’s the concept he applied to his life and the way he lived it. Whenever things started to look up for dear old Poe, shit hit the fan yet again. He was depressed, anyone from our time could see it, but mental illness wasn’t exactly as mainstream as it is now and he had to hide it. It festered inside of him until his poorly explained death. Poe used writing as his escape. It was a smidgen of a break from all of the pain because he could spill out all of the darkness inside him onto paper and everyone ate it all up. He wasn’t judged. Instead, he was viewed as a literary genius.”

You stared at him, half expecting him to keep going, but you ripped your eyes from his once it was apparent that he was finished.

“Well, it was a bit longer than the sample answer, but I would say it was correct.” “I had to make sure I was thorough and earn my reward, didn’t I?”

You squinted up at him again, catching his trademark smirk yet again.

“Can I know what the reward is now?”

Baekhyun smiled at you once more before nudging the notebook in your direction with his left foot.

You placed your hands over the binding and flipped it over as slowly and carefully as possible, acting as if it were a bomb that could go off any second.

“Jesus! Fine, I’ll do it.”

Baekhyun forced the notebook over, his handwriting facing you, and you had to squint to read the chicken scratch scrawled on the paper.

“Kiss me.”

You pushed the notebook to the side and stared at him, unsure of what to do. Baekhyun seemed just as nervous as you were.

“This is really what you want?”

He nodded quickly, completely failing at trying to keep his cool.

You pushed myself onto your knees and slowly leaned over to Baekhyun. You made eye contact for a split second before he closed his eyes and puckered his lips in a way that resembled his pout from earlier.

Before he could start leaning into you, you quickly shifted to the left and placed a peck on his right cheek, returning to your original position almost instantly.

“Ya! That’s not fair!” “It’s what you asked for, Baekhyun,” you reminded him tauntingly.

He stared at you, dumbfounded.

“I guess you should’ve been more thorough.”

He recognized the way you teased his choice of words from earlier when he was defending his answer. He sat back on his elbows the same way he did before, and shot me another smirk.

“It’s okay.” You raised your eyebrow at him. “I’ll get you next time.”

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Questions for HSM III (Part XI)

Beautiful picture here. It would fool you into thinking that all’s well in the end, but I am here to rid you of such delusions. 

On The Most Absurd of Absurdities- Mad Dash to California Part II

1- I just want to backtrack a little to that awful dancing routine; remember what I said about other students on campus? If you look carefully during the so-called waltzing, you will see two people sitting at a picnic table in the background. I suppose Stanford students must have a no-questions policy towards strange men dancing on public property. 

2- The kissing scene is yet another allegory for Troy and Gabriella’s relationship. It’s quite honestly cringeworthy, but if you can stomach the mush, then you will see Troy leaning in for another kiss whilst Gabriella is pulling away. Am I justified in interpreting this as her way of keeping him on the hook; not giving him too much, but just enough to keep him satisfied? This reticence and awkwardness has been mirrored right from the very beginning. Clearly, they have no unspoken chemistry between each other. Back in the treehouse, I could have sworn that Troy wanted to kiss her after their silly duet, but Gabriella didn’t even notice. After the abominable picnic scene, Troy had to prompt her to kiss him, which to me shouldn’t be the case in an established relationship. What are we to infer from this? 

3- “You know... I’m not the only one that changed when you came to East High.”

Now we arrive at the unjustified hero-worship scene, at which point I was already losing the will to live during the first watch, after having snorted throughout their tree-waltz routine. This is where Troy will use a combination of charm and his pre-prepared speech to convince his girlfriend to meet her commitments. The fact that he has to do this demonstrates the disregard with which Gabriella holds him, East High and all her friends, yet this scene comes not long after she claimed that “it’s taken me two weeks to get used to being away from you. From East High and all my friends.” 

And please, who else has allegedly “changed” because of Gabriella? Let’s run through a comprehensive list, shall we? Mr. Bolton, initially so dismissive of Troy’s singing ambitions, came round to supporting his son after seeing him perform. That decision had very little to do with Gabriella, of whom he had previously been contemptuous. Mrs. Bolton doesn’t get enough airtime, but we can assume that she had her son’s back first and foremost. Despite Chad’s horrendous pro-Gabriella bias, he was remorseful when he saw the devastating effect of his meddling in HSM I on Troy, and went to HIM to pledge his support. He changed because he actually accepted that TROY could have other interests besides basketball. Ditto for Jason and Zeke. Sharpay, botched though her character arc has been, said “you’re a good guy, Troy” after he gave her a chance to save her beloved Talent Show. Ryan did not change because of Gabriella; rather, she USED him for her own ends. Instead, Troy (literally) reached out and made friends with him, commended his hard work and his talent and expressed an interest in Ryan’s sporting skill. Meanwhile, Gabriella was being dragged back to Lava Springs after her dramatic exit. 

Kelsi’s beautiful character development came as a DIRECT result of her interaction with Troy: he lifted her up, gave her credit, built up her self-esteem, made her understand her value and feel valued. Remember how impressed Gabriella was by this scene, so much so that she mentioned it later: “I saw how you treated Kelsi at the audition: do your friends know THAT guy?”. All of Troy and Kelsi’s few scenes (I weep!) are characterized by genuine affection, companionship, trust, loyalty, great chemistry and respect. Even by the end of the first movie, Troy was incredibly proud of her for standing up to Sharpay. All credit due to TROY. Gabriella had no hand in any of this whatsoever. 

Ms Darbus went from being derisive of Troy’s sport and his accompanying status to trusting and respecting his skills, his courage and believing in his potential as she watched him shine on her beloved stage. Again, none of this is due to Gabriella, with whom Ms Darbus has not such much more than “welcome to East High, Miss Montez!”

In short, these are fatuous claims; the only person who has been “changed” by Gabriella directly is Troy. Yes, he has changed-- for the worse. Throughout the course of this movie series, we have seen a well-meaning kid degenerate into a walking zombie so dismissive of his own life, health and emotional needs that he’s willing to drive 1053 miles to and from California after being dumped over the phone by his girlfriend, because somehow, he STILL believes that he has a relationship worth fighting for. Sure, in the first movie, they had a budding relationship, but by this point, it is nothing more than an arrangement. Gabriella is enjoying her new life in Stanford, and certainly wasn’t shedding any more than a few compulsory tears over their separation. Troy, on the other hand, has been on metaphorical life support. She pays him scant attention, as pictures repeatedly demonstrate, but will fly into a rage if he even so much as turns his head elsewhere. 

Change, indeed?

3- “Kids I used to just pass in the hallway; we’re friends now.”

Yes, and this is all due to Troy. Because HE broke the status quo, and HE had never actually cared about social hierarchies anyway, which is why he made friends with the likes of Kelsi and Ryan, and why he has friends in the Science, Gardening and Drama Clubs. 

Why does Gabriella laugh/giggle after this comment? Is there anything particularly amusing in the fact that Troy has come all this way to highlight the importance of how East High has changed (allegedly by her will) and how he has made meaningful friendships along the way? With an atittude like this, I’m astonished that she has any friends. Once again, this is glaring evidence that she isn’t concerned with anything that interests him personally, unless she has a hand in it. (Or unless it can be attributed to her). What achievements can she list by comparison? I’ll be waiting. 

4- “And we’re supposed to be doing a show together.”

The picture I posted for Questions for HSM III (Part X) is the exact screenshot of Gabriella’s reaction after Troy reminds her about the musical. One minute she’s laughing condescendingly at the prospect of him making lasting friendships, the next minute, she turns her head away from him when he reminds her of the musical that she ditched-- AFTER having told the class earlier that they should ALL take part. I highlight these facts again and again folks, so that you are aware of the staggering hypocrisy here. Gabriella looks like a kid who has just been told to eat their vegetables. The reaction here is absurdly arrogant and disrespectful. Is this why she didn’t take Troy’s previous comment seriously-- because she doesn’t actually have any consideration or respect for the kids Troy used to pass in the hallway? The kids who have worked so hard to put together a kick-ass musical so they can win a scholarship to Juilliard? 

But more importantly, says who that him and Gabriella are supposed to be doing a show together? Why does Troy feel that he needs Gabriella-- Oh wait, we know. Back on Planet Earth however, the viewer can reasonably assume that Troy is leaning towards pursuing the Performance Arts in some capacity after graduation. He will be most surprised to learn that he will be expected to do shows... without Gabriella! The horror! And though he has no chemistry whatsoever with Sharpay, his dogged insistence upon only performing with Gabriella when she has just demonstrated a complete lack of interest is throughly discouraging and ridiculous. The script takes it for granted that Gabriella MUST be there to do this show, when I have already pointed out that she possesses no extraordinary talent, showmanship or even plain punctuality in order to be considered essential. A show without Kelsi’s compositions, Ryan’s choreography or Troy’s great voice would be a disaster. All three of them are present, and along with Sharpay, who is a seasoned performer, they could have carried the show together. Gabriella, who prioritizes her core academic pursuits over everything else, is not indispensible. Why does the script assume that we won’t remember how performing is actually a PART of Troy’s identity, whereas it is only an interest/hobby to Gabriella? (Were it more, then she would have at least aimed to minor in Performance Art, alongside her Law degree). Surely Troy is instrumental to the show?

5- “Problem is, East High changed when you got there. Now it’s changed again because you left.”

The kid is sleep-deprived. There’s no way he can actually say all of this with a straight face. He’s saying EAST HIGH-- as in the entire school! Where is his evidence for this? Clearly, thanks to his sleep-deprivation, he has forgotten the moment when his father, in HSM I, told him that what HE did affected not just the team, “but the ENTIRE SCHOOL”. Troy is Playmaker. Troy helped raise the school’s standing when he won back-to-back championships, as more people follow sports than Scholastic Decathlons. Doesn’t he remember the time in HSM II when, just as he was about to “enjoy” another awkward kiss with Gabriella, a little kid came up and asked for his signature? Have we ever seen Gabriella make such waves across the school? The only “change” here was with the Wildcats (members of his own class) who had automatically decided that they were goners without Gabriella, AND who, whilst so eager to cheer for Troy and Gabriella’s performances, showed zero interest in Troy’s hurt after her absence.

6- “You might be ready to say goodbye to East High... but East High’s not ready to say goodbye to you.”

Says who? Did he have time to complete a survey before his mad dash to California? By whose authority does he make such a claim?

The scene ends with Troy stroking her hair-- just another sign of affection, as usual. Gabriella just smiles at the knowledge of her imaginary achievements. Of course, what we don’t see is the bags under Troy’s eyes, the constant yawning, the hunger, thirst and inevitable fatigue that he WOULD have felt if this screenwriters had a working knowledge of human biology. 

Folks, this is dismal, dismal stuff. 

On The Musical and Troy’s Continued Piss-Poor Decision Making

1- The dialogue for Jimmie in his attempts to seduce Sharpay is once again an abomination to the art of writing. As for the “Babe Magnet” perfume-- no boy carries a whole bottle of perfume in his pocket. 

2- And now we come to the next most infuriating decision that Troy makes in this movie: missing the musical’s first act. All those hours of rehearsal down the drain. As if this isn’t outrageous enough, he texts JIMMIE to inform him of his lateness, but not KELSI, who wrote the damn show, not Ms Darbus, who is directing the damn show, and not Sharpay, who keeps expecting him to show up for final rehearsal. As much as I adore Troy Bolton, this is just unacceptable. Of course, this is a direct consequence of his foolish decision re the 1053 miles, which I will now change to 2106 miles, the total distance driven to and from Stanford, California. I bear this in mind. But at the VERY LEAST, he had an obligation to inform Kelsi, who would have made the necessary amendments BEFORE the show started, rather than staring around in panic on the opening night. Why he didn’t think to do this (sleep-deprivation?) earns him an angry face sticker from me. Furthermore, if he was going to wax lyrical to Gabriella about how her existence has breathed life into the universe, why didn’t he follow through by letting the COMPOSER know about Gabriella’s new-found intention to return and perform? Seriously, man? 

3- “Been driving all night. Will try to make it for the second act. Break a leg.”

Quite why Jimmie can’t read his own texts is beyond me. 

Folks, TROY has been driving all night. Gabriella, who is his passenger, apparently has not. And what is the excuse for this? Does this not epitomise their relationship once again? Would it have killed Gabriella to say, “Pass the wheel; you must be exhausted?” I know this is an assumption, but I consider it a reasonable one, given the lack of effort Gabriella puts into her relationship, given her reluctance to return and perform in said musical, and given her bumming free rides off Troy throughout Senior Year but laughing when his truck came to a shuddering standstill outside her house, and ignoring him when it broke down completely much later. If she couldn’t be asked to help him get home safely-- the very least she could do after he brought her a picnic at his own expense-- then why should we believe that she helped him drive back? And given her propensity to become short-tempered with Troy over any little thing, can we assume that this was an incredibly tense ride home? I mean, their conversations are tear-inducingly dull, she’s a selfish brat and you have to really like someone to put up with a 1053 mile ride through the fricking wilderness. Can we assume that Gabriella was frequently irritated with Troy, the faults with his truck and the length of time spent driving? Because I REFUSE to believe that them running onstage holding hands and laughing (presumably at their own foolish stunt) is a true reflection of the trip going home. There’s NO evidence to support this, other than the poor writing and wishful thinking of Barsocchini and co. Again, I know I assume, but I wasnt the one who decided that reducing this poor boy into a shell of his former self would be a good reflection of Gabriella’s presence in his life. 

More analysis upcoming.

[heauxadamas]

Beca Mitchell’s Tickets

Beca was sitting on her computer chair, busy throwing and catching her stress ball in the air while Chloe was lying down on Beca’s bed, scrolling through the digital contents of her laptop when, “Hey Becs, remember the Planetarium opening downtown?” the redhead asks her best friend and Beca looks at her unbelievingly. Of course she knows. They’ve been talking about it for three months. It was part of their bucket list since they were already graduating.

They’ve visited all the planetariums they could. It would always be part of their out of town itinerary and most times, they’d settle for the ‘tiny-starry-room’ in Barden. Planetariums have always been their thing. Just theirs. These are the moments Chloe Beale treasures the most. The moments when it would just be her and Beca.

“I can’t believe you just asked me that.” Beca says pretending to be hurt. “Tone down the dramatics, Becs, we’re going! I’m going to buy ticke — Crap!!! It’s sold out.” The redhead looked like she was about to cry and Beca was just laughing at her.

“Come on, Red. It’s not a one-day thing. We can go the next day!” Still playing her with her stress ball and as she threw it up again, the redhead caught it. “Beca! There’s going to be so many one-time thing experiences exclusively for that day! They won’t have that available for the rest of the time!!!” Chloe was freaking out about this and Beca just found it amusing. There wasn’t anything in that planetarium that they haven’t seen or experienced in Hayden Planetarium, which was so far, the best one they’ve been to.

“Why are you smirking?!” Chloe is raging and throws the ball at Beca. “Ow dude!” the brunette says laughing and the furious redhead walks out of Beca’s room. “Chloe Beale, what do I do with you?” Beca whispers, shaking her head with a smile.

It was 10 minutes later when Beca decides to finally put Chloe out of her misery and decided to head to Chloe’s room. So she stood up from her chair and grabbed the envelope from her drawer and started walking.

“Chloe?” She knocks and Chloe immediately opens the door, “What do you want, Beca?” Chloe was sporting her best scowl and Beca still found it adorable.

“Well, I want you to tell me that you love me.” She says with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

The redhead was not ready for this. Of course, she loves Beca. She’s always been in love with the woman. She’d say it sure but then, Beca raises her hand showing Chloe two tickets for the Planetarium’s Opening next Saturday. She immediately hugged the tiny brunette and shouts, “I love you, Becs! Oh my gosh!”

Beca was hugging her back and she wasn’t sure if she heard her right, but it sounded like, “I love you too, Chloe Beale.” Beca’s never said that before. It would usually be ‘Love you, loser’ or a forced ‘Okay okay, yeah, love you too’ but maybe it was a planetarium-ticket-induced-high that made her hear those words.

She finally let go of the brunette who was smirking at her. “I can’t believe you made me pout for more than 10 minutes.”

“That’s for thinking I forgot.” Beca says as she plops herself on Chloe’s bed. That basically meant she was finally sleepy and so Chloe climbed in with her.

Thank god all the Bellas were out busy with their dates. Only the captains were single… since Beca broke up with Jesse during her sophomore year.

The second Saturday of the month came and Chloe Beale was jumping up and down her bed to wake Beca up. She argued that the brunette should sleep with her the night before because she might wake up late for their agenda.

Usually, Beca would kick someone’s ass if they woke her up like that, but, come on. It’s a jumping Chloe Beale on her bed. Excited for their date. Okay not a date but like… their thing. So she smiled. “I’m up, Beale! I’m up!” she puts her hands up in surrender and as soon as Chloe was sure she was up, she let herself fall down to the bed. She kisses Beca’s cheek and rushed off to shower.

Beca shakes her head watching the redhead go.

One thing about opening days that Beca forgot was the existence of other people. She forgot that it won’t just be her and Chloe and she was tiny. She’s rolled her eyes way too many times already but seeing Chloe smile was worth it.

They walked in and Chloe couldn’t help but act like a buzzing bee. She wasn’t sure if it was because Beca got her tickets or because it was a planetarium. They were part of a group accompanied by a tour guide and they were hearing things they’ve heard before.

Chloe was really just looking forward to the star-sky-room where they could lay down in fake grass, and watch the fake stars above them. Beca figured by the time the tour guide let them get there, people would be cramped in that fake grass flooring and they have to share that space. So she motioned for Chloe to sneak out of the group and go straight to the room.

“Are you sure?” Chloe asked.

“Damn right, I am.” Beca says pulling the redhead’s hand.

There was one planetarium guard by the door, who seemed indifferent enough and let Beca and Chloe pass. They went to the centre of the room and Chloe immediately laid down. Beca opting to sit with her legs bent and her arms supporting her body from behind as she looked up.

“It’s so beautiful. Thanks for this, Becs.” Chloe says looking at view.

Beca smiles, admiring the view and looks at Chloe. “No need to thank me, Chlo.”

A digital shooting star came and Chloe squealed. Beca understood that the redhead was trying to tell her but she was wishing as well. “Yeah, Beale. I saw and I wished.” Chloe patted Beca’s arm so Beca would lay down.

When she did, Chloe faced her, “What did you wish for?”

“I’ll tell you when it comes true.” Beca says closing her eyes and Chloe looked up again wondering what it was that Beca wished for when hers was simply for Beca to feel the same way for her.

3 years have passed and Beca was already a hit music producer in LA. Chloe was a professor for Modern Dance in Julliard. Nope. Distance did not taint their relationship. Beca would go to Chloe twice a year and Chloe would go to LA twice a year. Beca’s scheduled trip did not include her weekends in New York because of her job.

And you guessed it, they would spend hours in planetariums. Even just the small ones, in cities around New York.

This year, Beca scheduled her visit during Chloe’s school break. When she got to Chloe’s apartment in New York, she was engulfed in a hug. Yeah, she had her own key. Chloe argued that it’s what’s best for Beca, so she can crash here whenever she’s in town.

“Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve picked you up! And wow… what’s with the huge luggage? Are you FINALLY moving in with me?” Chloe jokes after spotting two luggages the brunette was previously holding on to.

“No, silly. I’ll tell you but… I’m starving.” Beca pouts.

The redhead immediately grabs one of the bags and rolls it inside the guest room… the room where Beca puts her stuff in because she sleeps on Chloe’s bed with Chloe on it.

“Okay, go fix your stuff, wash up, and I’ll prepare dinner.” Chloe says walking out of the guest room. As soon as she was out, Beca took off her signature leather jacket and went to Chloe’s room to get clothes for changing.

30 minutes later, she was done taking a bath, she’s dried her hair, and changed into loose sweatpants and a huge shirt. She went to Chloe’s kitchen to find Chloe mixing up the mac and cheese. “Mmmm… did you just make my favourite?”

“Of course. What else did you expect?” Chloe smiles at the brunette as she places the bowl on the table. Beca sat down immediately and waited for Chloe to be seated before scooping some of the cheesy goodness onto the redhead’s plate.

“Okay, which planetarium are we visiting this weekend?” the redhead asks and was answered by glimmering eyes as if they were full of secrets.

“It’s a surprise.” Yeahp, it was full of secrets. Chloe didn’t even bother getting it out of Beca because that she never budges anyway. She stopped trying two years ago.

The two went on with their conversation. Chloe telling Beca about her favourite student and how she reminded her of Aubrey. Beca telling Chloe about her latest work with Rihanna and how she got her to sign an autograph for Chloe. Their meal ended with Beca washing the dishes and Chloe wiping them clean.

They went to bed and cuddled up, Beca being the big spoon. Chloe sighed with content, having Beca around. It was a bittersweet feeling. Having someone care for her as much as Beca does. It sucks though, it’s as if, they were always going to be just like this. Friends.

“Good night Chlo. I missed you.” Beca kissed the back of her head and all her previous thoughts were thrown out the window.

“I missed you too, Becs.” Chloe whispers back and fell asleep soon after.

It was 8 AM when Beca’s alarm rang. When she would visit, the two wouldn’t get out of bed earlier than 10. But the brunette was up the first time it rang. She immediately showered and changed her clothes. She went to the guest room to open up the luggages and checked if everything she packed was complete. After making sure everything was in there, she woke Chloe up.

“Chlo? Time to wake up. I have a surprise for you.” She coos.

Even before she could say anything, Beca was already pulling her up from her bed and guiding her to the bathroom so she could shower. As soon as she got in, she pretended to take her clothes off and Beca ran out as fast as she could. While the redhead was showering, Beca fixed their her bed and prepared Chloe’s clothes so she’d see it as soon as she got out of her bathroom.

Chloe didn’t bother asking and just did what Beca expected her to do. 30 minutes later, she got out of her room ready to go out. “Cool, I actually got the time right.” Beca says proudly as she got in Chloe’s apartment.

“You went out without me?” Chloe said in disbelief.

“Nah. I just went down to talk to the Uber driver to wait up for us because we’re heading down already.” Beca says as she held up her hand for Chloe to hold.

As they got in the car, Beca pulled out two tickets from her bag and covered her face with it while facing Chloe. The redhead was surprised. “Canada? What are we going to do there?”

“It’s a surprise!” Beca says smiling.

“Beca! I didn’t pack! My passport… I…” Chloe was panicking and Beca smirks at her. “Come on, Beale, I got you.” Of course Beca Mitchell packed everything for her. Of course, this surprise was well thought of.

They got to Canada and Beca rented a Jeep for them to use around. They weren’t really tired so they went out touring, since it was their first time in Ontario. Beca booked a hotel for them to crash that night and they slept as soon as they got in.

When morning came, Beca told Chloe to pack clothes for three days and two nights and told her to pack for a cold weather the redhead followed as instructed and was buzzing with excitement. Beca can be such a weirdo sometimes.

Beca loaded everything in the Jeep while Chloe was already sitting shotgun. She hopped in the driver’s seat and keyed-in their destination. “Lake Superior? We went to Canada for a lake?” Chloe says mocking Beca and was answered with a smirk.

They passed by a diner for breakfast and stayed there for more than an hour. Beca likes to have a 4-course breakfast meal and Chloe would tease her about it since she was a ‘growing child.’

It was an hour-long drive to where Beca was headed and when they got there, Chloe was shocked to see Beca voluntarily letting herself be in a camping park filled with nature. The brunette handed Chloe her bag and she carried her own and another that Chloe thought was a tent.

She tried to ignore it as much as she could ‘cause Beca was acting like they were just going for a walk in Central Park and Chloe knows what they’re doing. When they got to a certain spot, Beca kneeled on one foot in front of Chloe and looked at her. “Chloe Beale will you…” Chloe was frozen and Beca noticed this, “will you help me set up this tent?” she put her other knee down so she was full-on kneeling.

The redhead was still in shock but recovered quickly. She help set up the tent and as soon as it was over, Beca told her that it was time for lunch.  They ate in peace appreciating the nature that surrounded them and took an afternoon nap under the tree. They took a walk along the lakeshore and Chloe convinced Beca that they should swim. The redhead even pretending to drown because something caught her foot.

Beca just shakes her head at how ridiculous Chloe was being. After a while, they decided to air dry themselves. “Why’d you bring me here, Beca? I wanted to show you a Planetarium near Julliard.”

“You visited a Planetarium without me?” Beca gasps. “No, silly! I was waiting for you!” Chloe bumps her shoulder to Beca and the brunette laughs. She was such an expert at changing the topic. Thank God, Chloe didn’t ask her again why she brought her here.

She stood up and held her hand out to Chloe. “Come on, Beale. Let’s have dinner.” The redhead gladly took Beca’s hand to help her up and she was surprised when the brunette didn’t even bother letting go as they walked to camp.

They made dinner, camp-style, and ate it, camp-style. After putting away the used utensils, the sat by the bonfire. It was starting to get dark and Beca’s plans were going according to plan. She laid down a mat by the grass and laid down on it. She patted the space beside her asking Chloe to lay down beside her.

“You wanna know why I brought you here?” Beca asks.

“I’ve been dying to know, Becs.” Chloe looks at the brunette beside her when she saw a green reflection on Beca’s fair skin. As if Beca could hear her thoughts, she smiled and said, “That’s why.” She pointed to the sky and Chloe was shocked to see the Northern Lights playing in the sky above them. They watched it for a  few minutes when the redhead finally brought herself to speak. “Beca.. I..”

“My wish finally happened, Chlo.” Beca was now looking at Chloe waiting for her response. When the redhead looked at her with eyes asking her to go on, she said, “Remember when we visited the Planetarium downtown? I wished I could take the love of my life to see the Northern Lights.” she was smiling at the redhead.

“Y-y-you l-love me?” Chloe’s eyes were glassy as if she was about to cry but her lips were smiling, shaking, yes, but still, smiling.

“I do. I love you so much. I’ve loved you since Junior year.” Her hands found Chloe’s and interlaced them. She smiled at the redhead again and looked up to the sky. She wasn’t waiting for an answer, she just figured it was time to tell her and she couldn’t keep it to herself anymore.

Chloe, on the other hand couldn’t keep her eyes off of Beca, after awhile she finally said, “My wish finally came true too. That you feel the same way about me.” She laughs breathily and Beca looked at her in shock. “I love you so much too, Beca Mitchell.”

She smiles at the redhead, “I love you, Cho.” She leans in to kiss Chloe on the lips and the redhead welcomed it. It was everything Chloe imagined. It was gentle but passionate, full of love with the same amount of want. It was everything Chloe imagined their first kiss to be.

“What took you so long?” she asked after they broke apart.

“I was waiting for a ticket sale.” Beca jokes with a straight face.

The redhead laughs, “You and your damn tickets, Mitchell.” She kisses the brunette again.

A/N: I couldn’t sleep so I wrote a (this-time-for-real just a) one-shot. The last one suddenly became a long one and I’m still writing it. Lol. Hope you guys like it! Check it out on ff.net/here too.