#also the reason he plagiarized was because uh *clears throat*

[drowning-in-deadlines]

Haven't been following the James Somerton drama closely but it's become so ridiculous that it's funny

Is no one going to talk about the fact that he said that he thought it was okay for him to mention Vito Russo in the opening credits and then never mention him again because his book was out of print and Russo was dead....

And then in the same breath say that he was 'extending Russo's legacy' like my brother in Christ do you even hear yourself-

[caramelcal]

Songwriting and Fake Dating {4}

Word Counter: 1.4k 

a/n: hi! sorry ths is so late but i hope you enjoy :)

disclaimer: I do not condone the use of my work/writing without my permission. The only place this has been posted is on my (rosemoonmist) tumblr account. This has not been posted on any other platform either. If you see any plagiarism of my work please let me know! <3 People work hard on their fics, so don’t steal them ty.

Taglist: @honeyheartzz @diosa75 @katrin-okay @merceret @hoechx @ifilwtmfc @gia-kerks @thesweetestsinner @teti-menchon0604 @rachelle3musicals @morbidreader​

Masterlist

It’s much later in the night, the café empty apart from you, humming softly a tune from a song you can’t remember the name of. You’re dancing a little as you give the tables one last wipe down before making your way behind the counter again. It was your turn to lock up for the night, the other waitresses already away home but you actually liked it when it was like this.

You didn’t even have the lights on as you took of your small apron-like thing and hung it up. Reaching for the keys, you stop when you hear the bell ringing, signaling that someone had entered the shop. Could they not read the closed sign?

“Sorry, we’re closed right now-” You say, whirling around and meeting hazel eyes, voice cutting off when you saw who was standing there. Clearing your throat, you shift awkwardly between two feet, “Luke.”

“Hey y/n,” Luke says softly, his hair is messy under his navy colored beanie, but you know you can’t talk, yours probably looks a lot worse. He takes a step towards you before speaking again, his voice still soft, “We need to talk.”

“What- What do we need to talk about,” Your eyes aren’t on him anymore, but instead on the counter in front of you. You don’t even notice that Luke had walked forward until he’s directly on the other side of the counter from you, his hand reaching out to cup under your face, forcing you to look up at him.

You can’t even think of what to say when you stare up into his eyes, the tension in the room only multiplying. When Luke next speaks, his words are quiet, “We need to talk about what we’re going to do when we go back to school tomorrow.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Everyone still thinks we’re dating,” Luke starts to explain, stopping briefly as his tongue wipes over his bottom lip, “We haven’t been together in school for two weeks, y/n.”

“So what? It’s not like either of us actually want to be fake dating anyway,” You break away from his touch, moving away so that he couldn’t reach you whilst you look away, sighing lightly.

The memories of what your little deal have caused flashes over your head, and you can’t help the small frown that comes to your face. Sure, Luke was a nice guy, but everything that happened, the deal just wasn’t worth it. Not worth losing your best friend over.

His eyes are still trained on you, lingering on you for a few moments whilst a small frown appears on his face. His voice is quiet when he speaks, “There are benefits for the both of us.”

“Like what? Losing my best friend?” Luke looks at you with a frown. He feels guilty about it, but the more you look towards him, the more you realize you shouldn't have snapped, you sigh again, “I’m sorry.”

“No it’s alright, you have every reason to be mad. Listen, I have a new idea if we start to fake date again,” Luke says softly, and when your eyes glance up at him with confusion riddle on your face, he continues, “Grab some paper and a pen.”

Still confused, you oblige hesitantly, grabbing the small notebook from the pocket of your already hung up apron, rounding the counter to stand beside Luke, “What for?”

“This time, we’re going to do it right,” Luke says, taking the notebook from you and scribbling something down, showing you it with a grin on his face.

Scrunching your eyes up, you go to read what he has scribbled down, before awkwardly going, “Um...”

“Yeah it’s maybe better if you write,” Luke says sheepishly, pushing the notepad along the counter towards you, the pen sitting on top, “We’re doing rules for this. The fake dating I mean.”

“Rules? Really?”

Luke rolls his eyes, “Okay think of it more like bargains, like things we’ll do for each other as part of the deal.”

“Okay,” You start, nodding your head slightly, trying to come up with an example to know you guys are thinking about the same thing, “So like keeping the lacrosse team off my back?”

“Yeah like that. And you’ll write songs for us, but we’ll have a schedule, and we can’t write outside of that,” Luke says whilst you begin to write things on the small pad of paper, “We could do Tuesday nights and Friday nights.”

“I can’t do Tuesdays,” You trail off, looking back down at the counter with a small frown. Tuesdays were Dirty Candy practice nights, but now that you’re no longer a part of Dirty Candy, your Tuesdays were free. Yet, you were just used to not being free on Tuesdays, especially considering you had been in Dirty Candy since it was first created.

You cleared your throat before continuing, trying to put a smile on your face, “Uh, sorry. I’m free Tuesdays but we’ll have to do it late on Fridays because I’m at work until 7.”

“I’ll pick you up, we can get something to eat, and then we can go back to mine and write songs on Fridays,” Luke suggests, his hands lightly drumming against the counter before he speaks again, this time softer, “Also, I’ll get you Carrie back, as my part of the deal.”

“And how are you going to do that Luke? Carrie has made her feelings pretty clear,” You say skeptically. Especially after today, you were pretty sure that Carrie wanted absolutely nothing to do with you. She had told Kayla and the rest of the Dirty Candy girls about you calling her.

“You should know better than anyone that Carrie isn’t fully straight forward about her feelings to everyone, y/n. Just trust me on this.”

You’re hesitant, but Luke gives you a glance that tells you that you should trust him, so you give in with a sigh, “Fine. But if this fake dating thing is back on, we’re not kissing.”

“Seriously y/n?” Luke gives you a dumbfounded look, “Who’s going to believe I’m your boyfriend if I’m not allowed to do stuff like kissing you?”

“No, everything else is fine, but I want my first to be special.”

“Your first?” Your cheeks go red as you look down, but Luke’s eyes stay trained on you with his mouth almost hanging at his feet, “You’ve seriously never been kissed before? I’ve seen tons of guys with you, I-”

“Yeah, Carrie’s boyfriends, Kayla’s, the other dirty candy members...None of them have ever been mine. ‘Guess guys don’t like me like that, apart from the lacrosse team but it’s not exactly like they like me, they just want sex,” You shrug, boosting yourself up to sit on the counter, one leg crossed over the other as you look at Luke with a small smile.

Luke is dumbfounded. Guys obviously like you, you’re amazing. You’re nice and helpful, and gorgeous, why would guys not like you like that? For you to even think that is insane. Luke doesn’t know what to say, he shakes himself out of his thoughts.

“Fine. No kissing but you need to come to my gigs with me,” Luke bargains, tilting his head slightly to look at you, all you do is nod before you start writing stuff down, notebook leaning on your thigh.

You’re enveloped in a comfortable silence as you hit the pen off of the notebook lightly, looking down at Luke. He has his back against the counter, looking out on the quiet streets that the night has brought.

Your head goes over your ‘contract’ almost, and a question comes to your mind, why is Luke even doing this? Sure, there were a few benefits for him but no kissing, him having to get Carrie back for you, having to keep the lacrosse team off your back, getting you back in Dirty Candy...

“Hey, Luke?” You question, breaking the silence between the two of you as he hums in reply to show you that he’s listening, “Why are you so adamant about this whole fake dating thing anyway? I mean tons of girls would do this with you and it would be for real...”

Your eyes are still trained on Luke as he turns around to face you, hazel eyes gazing at you as he gives you a small smile, “Well...You write good songs, and that’s good for the band.”

It’s all for the band...

[onthepageoftears]

On Time is Late (Otis Milburn x Reader) // Sex Education

A/N: Yooo so this is my first imagine so lemme know what you think! And if you have any prompts, suggestions, or anything really just send me an ask! This account won’t be very active (as I’m supposed to be doing schoolwork right about now...) but I will truly do my best to update it!

Summary: You’re always late, and if Groff catches you late again you’ll be in big trouble. This morning, however, may turn out a little different than usual.

Warnings: I think a curse and other than that just fluff! also mention of jake gyllenhaal lol

Word Count: 1,241

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Time.

It was what orchestrated each day, each person, each little action that a person does. Going to class, getting on the bus, going to the store. Everything was based around time, and time could quite literally ruin someone’s life.

In this case, you thought it just might.

You were late, again, and if Head teacher Groff found out that you were even a second late to class, he would give you detention - or worse, expulsion.

That’s why you were running in the near empty halls, past the freshly emptied garbage can and the hardworking janitor trying to clean up the graffiti stained locker. Your heart was nearly bursting out of its chest trying to get to class. Maybe if my bike hadn’t nearly crashed into that pole, you thought as you turned another corridor. Though it wasn’t the bike that almost crashed into the pole, it was you - but you wouldn’t admit that. At least, not in this time of crisis.

But because time was so clearly on your mind, you couldn’t help but glance at the small wristwatch that let you down oh so many times, the one your mum had given you to help your track record of being late. It did help, for a good week, before you fell back into the routine of shoving it under your pillow and forgetting about it until your mum had to come drag you out of bed. And now, here you were. Late, late, late. It wasn’t a surprise, not to anyone, even yourself.

What was a surprise was turning another corner and bumping into something - rather, someone - hard.

“Fuck!” You nearly screeched, watching hopelessly as your notebook clattered to the ground, papers flying everywhere.

“I am so sorry!” You heard from above you, but you didn’t care who it was that you crashed into. You were late, there was only a minute until class, and you were going to have to get your obituary ready before Groff got to you.

“I’m late!” You said as you grabbed as many pages as you could, doing an awkward squat in the middle of the deserted halls.

“Late?” The person laughed a little bit, and you finally decided to take a breath and look up. He had dark hair and bright blue eyes, which contrasted starkly against his pale skin. You noticed the smirk that played on his lips, the relaxed sag of his lanky shoulders as he hesitated to grab another one of your note pages. “Late for what?”

With an exasperated sigh, you let out a huff and stuffed the remaining pages into your notebook. “For class.” The boy frowned slightly as the two of you stood up.

“Class?”

“Yes, class. You know, the thing we come to participate in practically everyday?” By now you were already walking away from him, trying not to admit to yourself that you would be late, and would have to heed the fate of the much hated Mr. Groff.

“I know…I know what class is, I just don’t know why you think you’re late.” He looked down at his own watch and laughed again. “It’s a bit early, don’t you think?”

Now it was your turn to frown. Turning back on your heel, you rushed over to the boy and nearly yanked his arm from him. 7:30.

“What the-“ you looked at your own watch, realization hitting you. “Little brat.”

“E-excuse me?” You widened your eyes at the boy in front of you, nearly forgetting he was there.

“Sorry. Not you. My brother, he must’ve set my watch back. Again.” It was no surprise that your brother would’ve done that; he was always teasing you about your tardiness to everything, and he probably wanted to prove some kind of point.

Still, the boy nodded in understanding. A bit of an uncomfortable silence overtook the two of you, both of you avoiding the others gaze. Finally, you spoke: “Why are you here so early, anyway?”

He placed his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, teetering on the front of his toes. “On time is late.” He replies simply, but notes the frown that forms on your face. “Plus, I-uh do the…” He used air quotes: “the clinic.”

Your eyes go wide recognition. “Oh, right! You’re the sex kid!”

“Yeah, well. My friends call me Otis.” He awkwardly reaches a hand out to you with a smile. “Otis Milburn.”

You look down at his hand for a second. Confidently, you take it in your own. “Y/N Y/LN.” His smile is as warm as his hand, which is kind of weird if you think about it, but for some reason it makes your stomach flip. With a slight cough, you let go, moving your hands to the straps of your backpack. “So, Otis. What does one do in school at this time of the morning?”

The two of you spent the rest of your free time talking. About everything, really. Your favorite artists, movies, hobbies, family, and anything in between. Suddenly, you weren’t so mad at your brother turning back your watch; in fact, you might have to thank him.

In the seemingly small amount of time you spent with him, you noted a few things about Otis: he was very cute, for one. But each little thing you noticed was even more glorifying than the next: the way he would scratch the back of his neck when embarrassed, or how he looked down at the ground if he was nervous. It was like you wanted to know everything about him, and as soon as possible. And you found yourself frowning when you two had made it to your first class, standing aside from the rush of arriving teenagers.

“This is me,” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly nervous.

Otis nodded, looking to the faces of the passing students. “Indeed.”

For some reason, you felt a surge of confidence. Like someone had slapped you in the face or spilt coffee into your veins. Nonetheless, you straightened your posture and cleared your throat. “Listen.” Otis turned to you, and your face flushed. “Would you want to hang out sometime? Maybe see a movie, or something?”

You noticed the surprise in his face, the slight blush in his pale cheeks, and the way he opened his mouth several times before responding: “I heard that new movie with Jake Gyllenhaal is quite good. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes!” You took a deep breath to stop yourself from getting too excited. “That would be great.”

“Awesome.” Otis clapped his hands together and smiled nervously. “Movie at eight, I’ll pick you up at six and we’ll get there by six thirty?” He pauses when he sees the horror in your eyes. “On time is late?”

You let out an abrupt laugh and nod, backing your way towards your class. “On time is late,” you repeat with a final wave, blushing as you made your way through the half empty seats of your math class.

Being early isn’t so bad, you think to yourself, watching your peers file into the classroom in a rush. You could definitely get used to this.

Still, being on time for Otis’ standards was definitely harder than it looked. He nearly pissed himself when you finally emerged from your house the next day an hour later than intended. But hey, that was really quite early for you.

[otome-reviews]

Scandal in the Spotlight: Kyohei Rikudoh Review [SPOILERS]

Ah, Kyohei. One thing you should probably know about me before I get started is that I have been stanning k-pop boyband EXO hardcore for years and there is album art on both my phone and my computer, haha. So to say I was thrilled to learn Voltage Love 365 app has a boy band otome would be a MASSIVE understatement! But how was the route, you ask? Read on to find out!

The world of Scandal in the Spotlight is uh... pretty cut-throat, to say the least. Aspiring MC starts out getting blacklisted from the industry after rejecting Harvey Weinstein her creepy, powerful boss. :( Then her coworker/secret member of popular boy band Arashi Revance, freaking STEALS poetry she wrote for a screenplay and adapts it into Revance’s latest hit (!!!). And then Kyohei, band producer/member and subject of this review, strong-arms/threatens MC into ghostwriting erotic lyrics for their 10th anniversary, in exchange for getting her un-blacklisted afterwards...!!

...Yikes. Poor MC (I hope she got paid for the plagiarism and she’s getting paid for the ghostwriting?! Super important 💰). Anyway, at first glance Kyohei definitely comes across as your typical scary/aggressive and demanding alpha male ("I make the rules here. Anyone who gets in our way will be dropped, no exceptions”). He might not be the official leader of the group, but he sure acts like he is. Kyo is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure Revance’s continued success, including using his professional clout to stifle an up-and-coming rival group (which I found very confusingly attractive, lmao). And with MC, he’s just as bossy, but also SUPER FREAKING FLIRTATIOUS like you have no idea (“If you don't have enough experience...perhaps we can fix that”). And of course the guy has to claim it’s all in the name of inspiring MC to write sexier lyrics and he couldn’t possibly be attracted to MC, lmao.

But much like his giant adorable mop of a dog (named Little Yamada!! ^_^), when it comes to MC, Kyohei is all bark and no bite. From the start, he’s nice to MC his own bizarre, super extra way. When MC’s feeling down about her skills, he doesn’t hesitate to buy out massive amounts of ad space from Shibuya Crossing just to prove a point, lol. And after the turning point in the story, Kyo becomes downright protective of MC, keeping his manager and the other members off MC’s back while she struggles with writer’s block! Aww.

TBH, domineering types tend to be really hit or miss for me. But in Kyohei’s case, it’s a hit (mostly! more on that below). For starters, once Kyohei starts caring about MC he’s never mean ever again (even if he still loves teasing her) and I am so super weak to otome guys who pull off that transition well. I liked his tragic backstory/motivation, cheesy as it was. And finally, Kyohei plays into your typical diva-ish pop star romance fantasy really nicely. It’s all about expectations: a bad boy-type pop star is WAY more interesting than a super nice pop star imho, and this is one of the rare cases where I think a completely nice character wouldn’t be nearly as compelling as someone like Kyohei, who does turn out to be vaguely nice ish, but also has a bit of an edge to him.

Speaking of pop fantasies, I generally enjoyed the plot progression, which was one giant, unbelievably cheesy wish fulfillment fantasy. Poor, sweet MC’s struggles to come up with sexy lyrics tie in really nicely with her growing relationship with Kyohei, and I always do love it when the external plot and romance get intertwined. But one thing that I didn’t like as much is the plot’s main villain, who at once wants to produce for Revance, poach MC, and get in MC’s pants...?! It’s too much!! I personally think the story’s conflict would’ve been much cleaner if his creepy romance subplot were completely removed.

Also, this isn’t really a critique as it is a commentary, but: parts of this story were kind of sad/infuriating to read from a post-#metoo perspective. MC’s screenwriting career was completely screwed through no fault of her own, after all! And much as Kyo did grow on me, he did initially force MC into the whole ghostwriting gig. So, this might sound kind of weird, but I think an AU of Scandal in the Spotlight featuring Kyohei as a villain type would’ve been EVEN COOLER while satisfying my never-ending thirst for revenge against evil guys? Imagine: MC turns down Revance flat, and goes straight to rival group Grenade, romancing one of those boys instead. Her and Boy work together to start a viral internet campaign to take down both Harvey Weinstein and Revance. It becomes an epic tale of MC+Boy vs the world, and in the end Revance and Grenade resolve their differences IkeSen style (though Grenade wins), while former boss gets sent to jail. Now wouldn’t that be satisfying to read. :) (...okay maybe this is why I was rejected from creative writing class in school lmao)

And while we’re talking about #metoo, there is one specific scene with Kyohei that I didn’t like! Early on, he smacks MC’s butt (flirtatiously??). I secretly kind of enjoyed all the other sexy, aggressively flirty things he pulls, but that one’s just straight up harassment! :( Fortunately, later in the route, Kyohei makes it clear that a) he’ll quit the flirting if MC tells him to stop, and b) he asks for consent before actually getting it on with MC. So there’s that... Anyways, this incident is one of the reasons why, mid-way through Episode 2, I was certain I was going to hate Kyohei with a fiery passion and that this review was going to be an extended rant about celebrities. But it really speaks to Kyohei’s character evolution that I ended up forgiving him for his transgressions, mostly.

Overall, if you’re willing to accept a party size helping of cheese in your romance stories (or, if you have ever had a crush on any of 1D/NSYNC/The Beatles/etc), I think you’ll like Kyohei. His route is definitely not perfect, and it certainly isn’t high literature, but it provides some super satisfying wish fulfillment and is generally a fun, sexy read!

Choice quote:

“Kyohei...I think I’m starting to get the wrong idea...” “You don’t have the wrong idea.” 💕

Personality: 8/10. I really wouldn’t call Kyohei a nice guy in general, and I have beef with how he acted in the beginning, but Kyohei post-turning point in plot is pretty awesome. The guy manages to be nice to MC and super mega sexy at the same time. Also I love how extra he is. It’s perfect for a pop star.

Appearance: 8/10. This guy’s hair is simultaneously the most and least necessary thing ever, lol. 

MC: 6/10. I like how self-aware and determined MC is. However, she was too passive for my personal tastes, especially when it came to the asshole men in her life. (Also girl really needs to learn how to digitize/password protect her lyrics...)

Plot/Payoff: 6/10. I generally enjoyed how gloriously cheesy the plot was, especially with regards to MC’s lyric writing and her relationship with Kyohei, but I do think the main villain ended up trying to do way too much. Also, I really wanted to see the creepy screenwriter get his comeuppance in the story, and I would LOVE confirmation that MC’s getting paid for her troubles! 💰💰

Personal enjoyment: 7/10. I started out really disliking this route because MC gets screwed over way too hard in the beginning, but Kyohei himself really makes this story more enjoyable than it has any right to be! ^_^

I was sent this story to review honestly as part of @officialvoltageotome‘s review campaign! All thoughts are 100% mine. :)

Masterlist

[thecreativeangel]

The Town of Forgetting: I

Slow Burn!Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: Derry was supposed to be an escape from your mother’s bad decisions and her hatred towards you for being ‘special’. But upon your arrival there you discover the eerily quiet town has a sinister reputation and a history that repeats itself.

Warnings: Cursing, description of illness. 

Words: 1,527

                                                                                          Next Chapter

“Are you sure they’ll like me?” You ask Beverly, pressing the phone closer to your ear. An old, fading, torn at the edges polaroid picture was held in your hand, the photo she had given you as a final present before you left Portland for good. Fuck your mom and her “unstable” lifestyle. She probably didn’t want you to see the tequila hidden under the bed.

“They will, I promise.” Her distorted voice comes through the ancient home phone, crackling with electricity.

“But you said-”

“They won’t know your last name,” Beverly assures. “And if they find out, they probably forgot anyway.”

You chewed on your lip, looking at the photo held between your thumb and index finger. “Bev, I specifically remember you saying that Henry punched every one of them, at least once. That’s insane.”

You could almost feel Beverly shrug through the phone. “It’s fine. They’re awesome. Sort of complete losers, but awesome.”

You still weren’t convinced. For a good reason, one might say. “I don’t know Bev…”

“Jesus (Name), stop being such a wimp.”

“Damn, Bev,” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes as far as they could go. “Thanks for the support. I. Feel. So. Loved.”

“Yeah, yeah… Now get in the car, I can literally hear your mom yelling at you from school.”

Was it your imagination, or did you just hear her sniffle? Your own eyes are glazed over, your bottom lip trembling, slurring your speech.

“I’m fucking sorry I couldn’t see you off.” Beverly says after clearing her throat. “My dearest Auntie couldn’t let her own niece say bye to her friend-your Aunt Lia is so much cooler. Nevermind that, how’s your head? No weird visions or predictions of a zombie apocalypse?”

“Don’t apologize,” You say in a fakely stern manner. “You’ve already said sorry at least twenty times. Shut the hell up much? Anyway, my head’s fine. Mom’s aura is happier today, all yellow and stuff. I’m guessing it’s ‘cuz I’m leaving. The feeling’s mutual.”

“I bet you’re happy to see one person in particular.” Beverly teased. “A certain loudmouth with glasses? I swear, I showed you the picture for one second and you’re already making heart eyes at him.”

“Shut up!” You say. “I wasn’t- that’s ridiculous!”

“Really, because I heard he’s very tall now. You could climb him like a-”

“Christ, Beverly!” You exclaim. “You can’t say that! I implied it once. Once! Get off my back!”

Beverly laughed heartily on the other side of the line. “Bye loser.”

“Bye Bevy.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear and ended the call, the empty feeling from before settling in the pit of your stomach like a shard of ice.

Beverly told you to be proud and confident. She said Derry was a weird place, that it sucked the happiness out of you like a black hole. She said it was like a literal black hole on earth, actually; brutal, and dark and unforgiving. You laughed it off, but there was a seriousness behind her joking expression that chilled you to the bone. Upon arrival at Derry via bus, the shard of ice in your stomach grew to the size of a golfball, or so it felt.

The town sign was falling apart. The town itself was almost empty compared to Portland, except for a few older women sitting on a park bench and some high schoolers drinking from a suspicious brown bag near the arcade, skipping class. The sun beat down on the buildings, giving them the same grainy texture of the polaroid photo Beverly gave you. Things seemed okay, until the schoolbell rang.

The bus you rode on just happened to drive by as the local high school let off and you pressed your face against the dirty glass window, fogging it up. Behind the misty glass, you saw the blurry outlines of their auras, the colors becoming one big blob behind the fogged up glass.

Frustrated, you rubbed your sleeve on the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of your new classmates, hoping to see if their auras were friendly or not. But when the condensation rubbed off, your breath caught in your throat. Among the stream of kids flowing from the main doors, there were only a few who were surrounded by the canary yellow of happiness, and the few who were wore a washed out yellow instead. There were sudden, angry flares of red around some, and not even a second later the crowd parted to allow two boys to start their fistfight. The purple mist of loathing was also prominent, swirling over their heads. Pale, barf colored green mixed with red rage.

Hints of midnight blue grief and sky blue sadness were visible if you squinted, but even that wasn’t what made your heart stop. All the auras were faded, ugly, discolored blobs of nothingness. The bus screeched to a halt at your aunt’s house and the driver practically glared you off. You shouldered your stuffed backpack and hopped down the bus stairs, dropping them next to the only lamp post on the street. The doorbell of your Aunt Lia’s house was loud and she answered almost immediately with a hug and squealing.

You glanced briefly behind your shoulder at the high school down the street, kids clumping together in groups. There was a thunder gray cloud hanging over the head of nearly each person.

“Are you alright hon?” Aunt Lia asks. Her beautifully young face bore a smile but her soft brown eyes showed worry. 

Your nodded soundlessly, but your mind worked a thousand times faster now. You’d seen blues, greens, reds, purples and hell, even gold for achievement and black for death, but this was different. Never, not once in your life, had you seen an aura that was grey.

The bell was about to ring, you knew it. Your first day at a new school and you’d be late. Absolutely wonderful. You reached behind you to zip your backpack up, all while running at full speed to the school. Not even a thirty seconds later, the loud bell echoed across the school grounds. That’s it. I’m dead. You burst through the front doors and into the empty main hallway, checking the class schedule in your hand. Room 208, Room 210… You counted off in your head, the numbers blurring as you sped by. Aha! Room 212! And before you could think to slow down, you practically sprinted into the classroom, skidding to a halt after sliding through half the room. Everyone looked up. Every. Single. Person. The teacher stopped his introduction, eyeing you up and down with extreme irritation, bordering on rage.

“I, uh-I’m n-new.” You stutter, realizing how greatly you just humiliated yourself. A group of girls near the front snicker. “New s-student.”

“Usually I don’t let anyone in the classroom after the bell,” The says, staring at you from over the rims of his horned glasses. “But since it’s the first day…”

He strides over to his desk and checks a paper. “You’re (Name)?”

“Yup. That’s-that’s me.” You answer awkwardly, trying to ignore the new round of giggles that broke out among the students.

“Your brother was my student, correct?”

For a moment, your brain melts, then goes into overdrive. Of course he’d mention that. In front of the entire class, too. Beverly said they wouldn’t find out! Beverly promised they-

“Y-yes sir.”

The teacher nods curtly and wrinkles his nose in disdain before addressing his students, who still wore smug smirks. “Everyone give a warm welcome,” He says, putting sarcastic emphasis on ‘warm welcome’. “To Miss (Name) Bowers.”

The room froze. Smiles melted off people’s faces, laughter came to an abrupt halt and time flowed like molasses. You took tentative steps to the back of the classroom, passing a sea of shell shocked faces. You passed the group of girls at the front, barely managed to walk by the burly boys in the middle, but near the back��

A couple boys looked at you with utter loathing. For a moment, you thought it was a trick of the mind. Why would they be scared of you? That’s ridiculous! But you glanced down at Beverly’s photo, clipped to your class schedule, and it explained everything. The extremely tall, deathly thin boy to the right looked like a skeletal version of Bill from the photo, his cheekbones sticking out like sharped knives. The boy a row ahead of him looked like Mike but his pupils were pinpoints, watching you like a hawks eyes, his hands clawing at the desk as if eager to grab your neck. You veered away on instinct.

On your left sat one boy with a dark mop of curly hair, slumped in his chair, observing you through half lidded eyes, a lit cigarette in the hand he hid under his desk. He was impossibly pale, the only true color to his face were dark bags under his eyes that looked more like bruises than anything. You were shaken out of your daze when you nearly tripped over the chair’s leg at your desk in the very back row. His stare followed you, so seemingly calm, but there was a burning, quiet rage behind them. Richie Tozier.

[touchmyhobi]

Professor Kwon: Chapter III

Genre: Teacher AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst.

Word Count: 3,460

Chapter: 3/?

Pairing: G-Dragon x Reader

Warnings: Once again, there won’t be any until like the 4th chapter ;)) Please hold on until then bbs.

“You know Y/N, I must admit you’re improving. It appears my warning has gotten through that dull head of yours”, Mr. Kwon paced back and forth slowly in front of my desk as he spoke.

“With all due respect sir, I do believe my head is not dull and that I am improving at my own will. Not because you told me to do so,” I bit back.

Bang!

Suddenly, Mr. Kwon’s hands slammed down on the surface of the wooden desk. His body lurched forward slightly and his gaze captured my own.

“What? Just because you wrote one decent paper, you think you have the power to question my authority?” he glowered at me and I shivered with a sickening mixture of anger and annoyance. “You will have to do a lot more than whine about your autonomy before I think of you as anything more than a subpar student”.

Beep! Beep!

My eyes shot open to find Mr. Kwon was not actually towering before me but rather my alarm was flashing in my face. I grumbled and smacked the dismiss button. That same combination of emotion from my nightmare brewing within me as I stomped through my bedroom to get ready for the day I was simultaneously dreading and anticipating.

Will he approve of my writing or will he tear me apart?

A dark, stormy cloud loomed large over my brain, casting lightning bolts throughout my body as the day wore on. Thunder rumbled in the pit of my stomach and a thick fog of worry choked my awareness. I had no choice but to continue my day in a trance, moving through the motions but not truly noticing any detail. Time seemed to pass like a high speed wind. One that dragged me right to the door that opened to the greatest storm of all, Professor Kwon’s Introductory Literature class.

Mere minutes before the class was to begin, I promptly found a seat in the center of the room. Which was a surprise in itself given that everyone files into this class like fans at a concert rushing to get the best view of the beautiful lead singer. However, as the class began I noticed the lead singer was looking a little odd.

Normally Professor Kwon would greet the class with a cordial welcome and an award-winning smile. But today, his approachable demeanor was nowhere to be found.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat as he glowered at the class from behind his yellow tinted glasses, “Let’s just get right into it…” he trailed off before diving into his most lacklustre lecture to date.

As he dragged on about proper sentence transitions and paragraph structures, he paid more attention to the dormant chalkboard than the devoted students. Not to mention, his naturally soft voice had taken on a gritty quality that made his aura much less approachable.

“That’s it for today. Also, this is the last time I’ll remind you all that your papers are due tomorrow. Good luck,” with that, we were ambiguously dismissed.

I gathered my things in confusion, falling into a state of anxiety as my brain began jumping from conclusion to conclusion.

Just as I was about to escape past Mr. Kwon’s desk, his voice deadpanned.

“Ms. Y/L/N, please sit down”.

Here we go, I thought to myself as I proceeded to sit down, let the nightmare commence.

"I'd like to speak with you about your paper," Professor Kwon spoke in a stern tone as he slowly approached the desk.

This is it. I failed my first essay. I cannot believe I screwed it up already, my inner dialogue began to spiral into a panic.

The paper slammed down in front of me and I squeezed my eyes shut, far too afraid to see the result.

"How did you do it?"

Suddenly I opened my eyes to see Professor Kwon staring down at me with an undecipherable expression.

"Do what?" I responded, shooting my gaze down towards the essay before me. My eyes went wide as I noticed the mark, 100%. “How is this possible? I’ve never received 100% in my life”.

“And I’ve never given out a 100% in the entirety of my teaching career. Which is exactly why I am wondering, how did you do it?” Professor Kwon leaned over the desk and stared deep into my eyes. I could tell he was serious.

“There must be some kind of mistake. I don’t deserve such a high mark!” I began to quiver with the fear of being in trouble. “Are you sure this is my paper?”

“Well, why don’t you read it? Are those your words?”

I nodded timidly.

“I’ve ran it through the school’s plagiarism system and it’s completely original,” his voice had calmed down to a more resigned tone at this point. “I just don’t understand how a first year student could write something of this caliber”.

Professor Kwon was now running a hand through his parted, black hair as he paced back and forth in front of the desk.

“I’m s-sorry, I don’t know what to say,” I responded, beyond intimidated by his actions.

Suddenly, his gaze shifted towards me as he released an exasperated sigh and approached the desk. He pulled out a chair and sat in front of me. His eyes promptly fell to his lap, leading me to notice the way he rubbed his hands together.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he appeared to be struggling to find the right words. “I just want to understand your talent. It isn’t often I come across a student with such immense potential. With that being said, I’d like to run something by you?” he asked cautiously.

I nodded in response, my stomach still lurching from the situation’s uncertainty.

“I’ve already spoken with the headmaster about your talents. He and I feel it would be beneficial to begin one on one classes with you after school hours. Which means I will be your mentor. Would you like that?”

After he finished speaking, Professor Kwon’s gaze reached mine again. However, this time there was a glint in his eye and it sent a shiver down my spine.

“O-Of course I would! That would be such a great opportunity,” I rambled slightly, completely taken aback by the offer. “Thank you so much”.

The moment I babbled out my response, a huge grin fought its way onto my Professor’s lips causing him to look down once again.

“Don’t mention it. It’s an honour to mentor someone with such great potential”.

I just stared at him in disbelief. I had always known that I excelled in literature but I would never have guessed I was good enough to garner such attention.

“So how does every Wednesday and Thursday, 4-5 sound?” his question shocked me out of my trance.

“Oh, sounds good to me!” I responded with an anxious smile.

“Perfect!” he suddenly stood up and made his way to his desk before reaching down to grab a thin stack of papers. “I made up a short course outline for you. Basically just covering what this extra class entails as well as a schedule of topics for the next few weeks”.

His slender legs brought him back across the room to the front of my desk as he handed me the papers. Before I could even grab them, he was speaking again.

“Also, try not to get overwhelmed. I want to help you as much as I want you to enjoy yourself”.

“I’ve got to get to home now but thank you again Professor Kwon,” I stood from my seat with a gentle smile, before reaching down to grab my backpack. Only to discover he had already beat me to it.

“No problem. See you tomorrow,” he spoke in a sticky sweet tone, that undecipherable gaze returning once again.

As I reached out to grab the backpack, my hand brushed his and for a moment I could have sworn a fire had ignited beneath the skin of my cheeks. I bowed quickly before rushing out of the room. For some reason, Professor Kwon had me on my toes. The emotions I was feeling for him in a day ranged from being smitten to wanting to have control over him and quite frankly, these ever changing feelings were giving me whiplash. I shook my head in an effort to clear my mind as I shut the classroom door behind me.

Before I could even make it to the front doors of the school, someone grabbed my shoulders causing me to collapse with fear. My books hit the floor with a thud and a gasp left my body along with my soul.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” the stranger exclaimed before dramatically dropping to the floor as well to help me retrieve my books before offering me a hand as if he wasn’t the one who caused me to fall in the first place. “I didn’t mean to scare you that much. You must be rather faint of heart,” he crossed his arms and scoffed at me as I dusted myself off.

“As a matter of fact I am. You know you shouldn’t jump people like that. What if I had a heart problem, you could have killed me,” I scolded the man.

“Oh come on, don’t be so dramatic. Besides is that any way to greet your new best friend?”

“Oh and I’m dramatic? What type of person introduces themselves to a stranger as their best friend?” I asked as the annoying man followed me down the hallway. “Who are you anyways?”

“The name is Seungri and trust me, it's an honour for you to be chosen as my best friend”.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” I raised an eyebrow as an amused smirk took over my face.

“Sweetheart I am what you call the eyes and the ears of this school. I know everything you need to survive your four years in this stuffy hell hole,” he had quite the theatrical way of speaking. I had to admit he was entertaining but annoying nonetheless.

“Is that so?”

“I would hope so, considering I’ve already spent my four years here,” he admitted and I assumed he just had a longer program than I.

I opened the front doors to a brisk autumn breeze as I questioned him further, seeing as he showed no signs of leaving my side. “So, what do you want with me?”

He stopped in his tracks and rested a hand on his chin as if he was contemplating the meaning of life.

“Hmm…well, you have a piece of information that I do not have but I desperately want. Thus, I need to befriend you to obtain said information,” he admitted.

“What information are you talking about?”

“I want to know what business you have with Professor Kwon. Why did he ask you to stay behind after class?”

“Wait why are you in a first-year Literature course? I thought this was your fifth year?”

“Literature isn’t one of my many strengths. It’s the only class I need to pass to get out of this place,” I looked at him in understanding. “Well? I told you my secret, now tell me yours!” he exclaimed impatiently.

“Professor Kwon just wanted me to stay behind so that he could ask me about my paper because I received 100%. He was just making sure I didn’t cheat, that’s all,” Seungri looked at me with suspicious eyes but accepted my answer regardless. As we approached the train platform, I looked at him questioningly. “Are you taking this train as well?”

“Don’t worry I’m not stalking you…” he trailed off, silently asking my name.

“Y/N,” I informed him.

“Yeah Y/N, this is my train home as well. Isn’t that great? We can spend so much time together since we’re best friends now!” his annoying, pushy demeanor resurfaced.

I gave him little but a grin and a nod, my lips pressed anxiously together as I silently begged he had the wrong train. But, much to my dismay, he boarded the car and sat next to me. We made small talk but it didn’t achieve much as my short answers gave his eccentric mind little to work with. His destination quickly approached. Unfortunately, mine was only a stop after his. Which meant we lived in the same neighbourhood. Great.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!” he exclaimed as he shuffled off the bus and I cringed at the thought of having to deal with such a draining man more than once.

I stepped onto the platform and made my way down the secluded city street toward my shared apartment. Making my way up and through the building, I longed for the comfort of my bed and awaited the moment I could lay my head upon the pillow. The day had taken too much out of me. Between Mr. Kwon falsely accusing me of plagiarism and my strange encounter with the so-called Seungri, I was more than ready to shut my brain off for a while. I just hoped Ji Soo wasn’t waiting to grill me about day two with Professor Kwon.

As I pushed the door open I began to speak. “Listen Ji Soo, before you question me about anything, can I please take a nap. I’m exhaus-” I cut myself off when my cousin failed to obnoxiously attack me with hugs. “Ji Soo?”

Suddenly I noticed a pink sticky note attached to the fridge that was addressed to me.

Y/N. I went out for the night and I’ll be staying out. So, don’t wait up. There’s some leftovers in the fridge. I hope your day with Mr. Kwon went well. I’ll be there tomorrow to discuss. Love, Ji Soo.

I silently thanked her for choosing tonight of all nights to stay out and wandered into my bedroom. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I pulled the blankets up to my chin and succumbed to sleep.

“When writing a strong paragraph, it is not enough to use transition words such as ‘thus’ and ‘furthermore’. Think your sentences through and craft transitions that are specific and grammatically correct,” suddenly the bell rang and cut Mr. Kwon’s rant on effective paragraphs short. “I see my time is up. Don’t forget to hand in your papers before you leave. Have a good evening everyone”.

After undergoing a 12 hour sleep the night before, I felt rejuvenated and completely unfazed by the impending one-on-one lesson with my professor. Today I managed to find a seat at the front of the class so I could just stay put once everyone had left the classroom. Not even the breathtakingly classic suit the man standing before me wore could cause my breath to hitch. I finally have my control back, I thought to myself as I watched him retrieve some papers from his bag.

“Y/N! Are you excited for your lesson?” he asked with a genuine grin on his face as his bright eyes shifted to meet mine.

I nodded confidently as I returned the smile.

“That’s good to hear. I was afraid I might have scared you away yesterday,” he voiced his concerns and I noticed how honest his facial expressions were.

“Oh no, you’ll have to do a lot more than that to scare me away,” I reassured him and for a split second, those honest expressions took a shift in a direction that didn’t lie but didn’t tell the truth either.

“Yes, I see,” he had to clear his throat before the smile could return. “Shall we get started with your lesson then?”

I nodded once more and much to my surprise, he pulled a chair up to my desk and sat directly in front of me. Suddenly, my heart tripped and missed a beat as his face came so close to mine.

“I want these lessons to feel more informal, like a collaboration instead of a lecture. I hope that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” I responded timidly after clearing my throat.

“Perfect. Here are my notes for this lesson, like I said this will not be a lecture so, I will prepare notes for you and we will discuss them. The assignment details will always be at the end of the note,” he directed me through the papers and I tried my best to focus given his proximity. “You have already proven to me how well you can write a formal essay but I’m curious to see how creative you can get. So, I’ve prepared a poetry unit. How are you with poetry?”

Given that his words had sent me into an entranced state, I had to wake myself up to respond.

“I’ve dabbled in poetry, but I can only seem to do it on my own accord when I’m experiencing some emotional upheaval of sorts,” I explained.

“That’s very common among writers actually. What was your last poem inspired by?”

His personal question caught me off guard but I knew I had to answer honestly.

“Well, I uh, there was this friend. He and I had grown very close and he made me believe we shared mutual feelings. But after we became…involved…he told me he only saw me as a friend,” I explained, giving as little detail as possible.

“That’s great!” he said enthusiastically and was greeted by my shocked expression. “I mean, that’s a great experience to draw inspiration from. Not that it’s great that he did that to you, no one deserves that, especially such an intelligent, young woman like you,” he smiled shyly before continuing. “For your first assignment, you will write me a sonnet. Have you ever written one before Y/N?”

“Once or twice during a brief unit in high school,” I informed him.

“Well to refresh your memory, a sonnet traditionally consists of fourteen-lines and is written in iambic pentameter. However, there are many types of sonnets,” he continued but my mind was wandering too far for me to concentrate.

I’ve lost control, that little voice in my mind reminded me of my ongoing struggle yet again. Professor Kwon had an intoxicating presence. A presence that I could cautiously observe from a comfortable distance but any closer was far too lethal of a dose. Each time he leaned forward to point to a sentence on my page, I would subconsciously draw in a hissed breath, praying to every perceived deity that he didn’t notice. My eyes monitored his gentle movements before tracing the gentle lines of his eyes, nose, lips…

“Do you understand that Y/N?”

Instinctively I nodded, knowing damn well I didn’t hear a word he said.

“Lastly, a sonnet tends to deal with big ideas. Approach it as if you are a philosopher pondering one of life’s largest mysteries for the first time. Be curious of anything and everything pertaining to the topic at hand,” he instructed oh-so-eloquently.

“What types of topics should I consider then?”

“Topics such as love, loss, death, lust,” he looked me in the eye and I choked on my own breath for a split second. “Just make sure it’s something you struggle to comprehend. Do you understand now, or do you need more examples?”

“No, no!” I shook my hands nervously as I spoke. “Those examples were perfect. Thank you!”

Professor Kwon stared at me with an incredulous expression before chuckling dismissively.

“You’re cu-” he began to speak but immediately stopped himself, the lighthearted expression he once held shifting to one of concern. “You’re, uh, free to go. We actually went over by a few minutes,” he suddenly stood up and walked back to his desk leaving me in shock.

What was he going to say? Did I do something wrong? I thought to myself before that little voice chastised me. Stop overthinking it and get up already! He probably just has somewhere to be.

“Oh, I see,” a slight tinge of disappointment tainted my voice as I got up and gathered my books, shoving them into my bag. When I looked up again, his back was facing me as he took his time cleaning the blackboard. “I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Kwon. Thank you for the first lesson”.

I waited patiently for a response but all I received was an unsatisfying “see you Y/N”. The sudden tense atmosphere between us caused me to take the hint and escape the now freezing room.

As I wandered down the empty hallway, my heart sank as I tried to wrap my head around how things went so wrong. Once again I was left lacking control and struggling to understand where I stood with Professor Kwon.