#i stopped talking to all my friends from senior year largely because i convinced myself i was complicating things

[fruitmouse]

was the only first shift part-timer at my job to not quit like 2 weeks in and my manager said he “knew i was a stayer from the moment [he] met [me]” which is like. just manager talk but i’ve been thinking abt it a lot for some reason

[elius-learns-to-write]

Beach Day

Hey Besties <3, I plan on getting 3 more posts like this out today as I know I haven't been the most active this week, then tomorrow there will be 2 more out so it means I have posted 7 written works this week. So keep your onions peeled. (the amazing writer @sapphireplums gave me so much inspiration to write with their kind words so you should give her a follow).

Summary: The avengers get their toes in the sand and their swimsuits on.

You had all been working for what felt like 200 years 

With missions and paperwork none of you had seen each other properly 

So an hour of brainstorming you came up with the genius idea of a beach day 

You decided to put the idea to Fury so he could clear everyone's schedule 

However it took a lot more convincing than you had expected

You shivered under the mans watchful gaze, you never really understood documentary presenters when they talked about the look of fear in some poor mouse's eyes as it was scooped up into the talons of some large bird, that was until you met Fury, you were sure you had the same look in your eyes right now. You shifted in your seat as he began to talk again, “So you want me to let the world's protectors go off duty for a whole day just so you can go running across some sand and take a swim in salty water? Even though if you wanted to get sand in your hair I would happily get you a bag of it?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice, pausing his pacing to quirk his eyebrow at you. When he worded it like that it sounded stupid but you knew you all needed a break and you weren’t about to give up “I wouldn’t phrase it like that but yes sir that is in a way what I am asking, look we haven’t been together as a group since the last big team mission a month ago and I can’t remember the last time we spent a day together. Please?” If you can’t get someone to agree by simply asking them then tug at their heartstrings and beg. Those had been the wise words of your grandma Jo and it seems that they had been true “Fine you get 1 day then it’s all back to normal”

After convincing the terrifying director you had taken the idea to Tony as he was going to be the one paying for it 

It’s not like he doesn’t have enough money to give some to his friends (and even more to charity but that was an idea for another day)

Of course the man more than happy to splash some cash to see everyone have fun together (and in a swimsuit)

The morning of the trip had been stressful and chaotic to say the least

“DOES EVERYONE HAVE SUN CREAM?” the captain's voice boomed over the noise of zippers shutting, the music from the beach day playlist Tony had made and the excited chattering of the team. “Yes Captain safety first I have enough bottles in the car to last at least 20 years because unlike Y/n I actually know how to take care of myself” the genius quipped laughing at the offended noise that fell from your mouth, “at least I’m not going grey old man” you muttered wandering around trying to find the bucket and spade you had brought down stairs. “Hey as anyone who has seen my Bucket and Spade I can’t seem to find it” you called out rummaging through the colossal pile of bags “No, are you sure you brought it down doll?” Bucky spoke, looking round in confusion not remembering seeing you bring it down. If you weren’t so caught up in looking for your sandcastle building tools you would have laughed at the ‘lost tourist’ look on his face. “Yes I’m sure,” shoving bags with more aggression eager to find it “is everyone sure they haven’t taken it” you stopped to look at the group, cheeks tinted pink from the force at which you were moving bags. “Yes , we’re sure now get downstairs and in the car I’ll get you one when we get there” rushed Natasha, her red hair a nice contrast to the dark denim shorts she had on, “if we get there” whispered Sam making Thor laugh as he attempted to pick up 3 bags at once.

Anyone would have thought you were going on a 5 day holiday with the amount you had all tried to shove in the back of the mini-van you all chipped in for one year at Christmas for this exact reason

The seniors of the group ( Iced Americano and The metal armed man with no plan) were confused on why you needed to take this much but you and Wanda were insistent that you had packed the essentials 

(Okay maybe the hats, 5 bottles of sun cream and armbands and floats for the poor swimmers of the pack had been slightly unconventional for a day at the beach but it’s better safe than sorry right?)

The drive was also very chaotic

You hadn’t realised how uncomfortable the seats had been until you were forced to spend 2 hours stuck next to Loki in them. “I know this is the 10th time I have asked this but are we there yet?” the God was starting to seem more like a 5 year old than a stabbing machine and he wasn’t the only one ,“Can you please move your leg over a bit it’s on my side” Sam whined as he shoved Bucky’s shoulder “No for the last time I can’t so deal with it bird brain” the pair hadn’t stopped bickering since they stepped foot inside the vehicle. “Tony can you turn up the music and drown the noise of these kids out please” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to soothe the oncoming headache (not that making the music even louder was going to help) “I thought you’d never ask kid” he replied lunging for the twisty thing no one actually knew the name of, that turned up the music (Bruce probably knew but no one had the energy to ask).

When you got there however the 2 hour drive felt like the needed sacrifice as your toes hit the sand. 

As much as you loved being able to fight alongside your family there was nothing better than watching them relax, faces slowly morphing into ones of pure bliss. 

“You alright there y/n? You looked like you were away with the fairies then” Steve chuckled, unfolding the deck chair he had brought and placing it next to yours. “Yeah I’m good I was just thinking about how lucky we are to have each other” the man smiled at you as your eyes glinted in the sunshine. “LAST ONE TO THE WATER SMELLS OF FISH” Peter screamed bolting towards the water, that bastard you thought jumping up and running after him “PETER YOU DICK I’M GONNA GET YOU!!!” you laughed. Once you got in the water you squeaked at how cold it was doing the ‘ohh ohh oh sihufbbe’ noise that came with the shock of cold water spinning around to splash water in bug boys face. Oh shit. That wasn’t Peter, you had forgotten that Bruce had gotten into the water straight after Tony and had been swimming beside you. The whole group froze half expecting the man to turn green however what you were met with wasn’t a green mean smashing machine and was in fact a laughing doctor and a splash of water to the face. After that a water fight started, screams of surprise and joy a comforting change to the screams of fear you usually heard in your line of work. You snuck off back to shore and looked at your found family from the warmth of your towel realising how lucky you were to be in a place of love and support, free of judgement. Because at the end of the day yes Loki would complain about the sand in his hair, Thor would be asking for a stop at the shops to add to his Pop tart stock pile, Nat would be silently filming Sam and Bucky bicker like an old married couple, Tony would make flirty remarks to Pepper about letting him rub sun cream on her back again some time, Peter and you would be talking shit to each other as he beat you at yet another game of Mario kart as Wanda and vision made sure to make an extra bowl of whatever they had made to take Bruce who had already made his way down to the lab but you were a family and there was no place you’d rather be.

You would say this was the best idea you ever had but the video of you painting Cap’s shield bright pink would beg to differ

It was a successful trip and you would 100% be posting the picture of Bucky and Peter looking depressed at the fact their ice-creams had fallen on the floor after a light game of ‘I’m gonna push you over’

Ahhhh the bliss of a beach day with the gang

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XIV

Part I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  Part XI - - - - Part XII - - - - Part XIII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Plo Koon woke to find himself chained in a dark room.

Somewhere behind him he could hear steady dripping; it was uncertain if that was deliberate or not.

He strained to discern anything in the dim light, but the walls of his prison refused to form into anything recognizable.

Cautiously, the trapped Master cast his senses out, only to find them reflected back at odd angles. He decided to wait before attempting to push any further past what his captor wished him to see.

Time passed strangely, but sooner than expected there was the sound of a pressurized airlock opening and, distantly, a raging ocean.

The airlock cycled through its rotation and Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out of the amorphous shadows looking...decidedly worse for the wear. 

Plo ached at the sight. His normally carefully maintained beard was a scraggly mess. His robes hung tattered and bloodied. Of particular concern was how dry he looked, skin cracked and bleeding for want of water. The figure standing before him with a dead-eyed glare resembled less an accomplished Jedi Master and more the wretched husk of one. 

“Who are you?”  Obi-Wan's shade hissed. The chains around the Kel Dooran tightened. 

Well, however he might view himself and others...at least he’s willing to fight to defend what remains? At the bare minimum he’s not acting intentionally self destructive...

“Good Morning, Obi-Wan. I am a Jedi Master and your friend. I have been attempting to reach you through your rather impressive shielding. I must say, you’ve done a remarkable job confining me in this mental construct, its been sometime since anyone has managed to get the best of me in this arena.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Don’t try and flatter me, you barely fought back. You could easily have forced your way anywhere, but for some reason you let me corral you, presumably to try and gain my trust. Now answer my question. Your presence is very much light so I doubt you’re Sidious or...Vader. I could be wrong obviously, but i can’t see either of themselves putting this much effort into that sort of mask...just tell me who you are, and why you’re with them.”

“I am Master Plo Koon, a High Council Member, and I am not unknown to you” he elaborated without hesitation. “I am glad that you can identify that I am a light force user. Can you not sense familiarity within my force presence, even so far within your domain?”

Obi-Wan reared back and the dripping noise in the corner stopped.

“It’s a trick. We might be in my head but that doesn’t mean I’m surrendering any of my thoughts to you,” Obi-Wan snarled. “I felt Plo Koon’s death, he was one of the first...and even if he somehow survived he would never work with the Sith to invade my mind. Never.”

“Obi-Wan. Listen to me. Please. I am not dead. I am not working with the Sith. I was brought in to reach you because no other method was working. You are in the healing halls at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.” Plo spoke calmly, but implacably, “We believe you have either experienced a uniquely detailed vision, or a run in with a dark-sider. Whatever has happened, I can feel the lingering impression of unsafety. But here and now, you are not in any immediate physical danger. There must be something I can do to convince you of your present physical location.”

“A uniquely detailed vision, huh? ha!” Obi-Wan replied, gesturing wildly. “Ha! You expect me to believe that what, the last four years of my life were a detailed prophecy? Why?”

“You...believe you have lived years beyond the rest of us. I take it the- what you remember has been dangerous enough to warrant maintaining abnormally tight control over your mental walls, precluding simply reaching out to ascertain the truth yourself.”

“Clearly my control wasn’t enough if you’re in here.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I do apologize for the intrusion, but we’ve already used every other tool at our disposal to reach you. I repeat, is there anything that can be done to convince you that you are, from your perspective, ‘in the past’. You are a High Council member with a grandpadawan. It’s been two years since the start of the clone wars. You recently finished an extended clean up of the Mon Cala sector after your victory.”

Obi-Wan stared at him curiously. “If I set a test and you fail, will you agree to dispense with the pretenses?”

Plo-Koon hesitated. “Perhaps I’m making this deal in bad faith, as I am know I am Plo-Koon, and that everything I have said is the truth... but I swear that if you somehow prove that neither of those things are true and I am secretly working for a sith lord, I will...reveal that.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Best I’m going to get, I suppose.”

The chains holding Plo-Koon loosened. Before he could respond, there was a hurtling rising sensation that he struggled not to fight against. After a disorienting moment, he found himself in his own body, feeling vaguely seasick. Obi-Wan blinked awake, apparently unfazed by the precautionary bonds holding him in place. Master Aerdo’s gaze flicked between them intensely. Plo-Koon held up a clawed hand to forestall any interruption while the two gained their bearings.

Obi-Wan spoke first:

“Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation”

“...What?” Koon replied, honestly confused.

“Cihynglo was a renowned Kashykian Jedi, her mediations are, well i suppose were considered a quintessential example of High Republic cosmic poetry.”

“I’m familiar with Cihynglo- my master used to speak of her fondly.” Plo Koon said slowly. “Though I can’t say I’m familiar with her Fourth Mediation.”

“Hmm. Yes, well her poetry in the last few decades of her life got increasingly, well, esoteric. While most of her work was widely translated and distributed, she requested that those who wished to read her fourth Meditations do so in person, so as to experience without dilution the full calligraphy and artwork that accompanied her words. She only ever produced two copies. Any guesses where they were kept?”

Obi-Wan’s voice started out in the steady tones of a born lecturer, only to grow bitter towards the end.

“Is one in the temple?” Master Koon asked.

“Yes, one was held in the Master’s wing of the temple archives. The other was housed in a place of honor in The White Forest’s Great Tree of Knowledge. Considering both libraries were reduced to ash in the first month of the Empire, it is quite impossible, even for the Emperor, to find a copy.” 

His vague attempt at a smirk quickly fell flat. 

“I was privileged enough to be granted time to begin reading it once, but, alas, an emergency situation in the intergalactic war you created meant that I had to run off mid-sonnet. Bring me that book, let me hold it, read it, and I will believe that I somehow unlocked the secret of time-travel while overdosing on Spice.” 

Obi-Wan paused, catching his breath. “In the next fifteen minutes, please. Any more than that and you might try tracking down the few surviving Wookie scholars.” Koon flipped open his comm. “Master Nu, I have an urgent request.”

“Nu here, go on,” came the response.

“This may sound strange, but it is crucial that Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation be brought to the healing halls, room seven. Within the next 15 minutes.”

“You do understand you’re talking about a physical book, not a flimsi-stack or a holocron. It’s not meant to leave a climate-controlled room.”

“I promise you, I would not ask if it weren’t life or death. Please Jocasta, I’ll explain later.”

“I’ll be there in 10. It had better be one durned good explanation.”

Obi-Wan looked bemused. ”You’re setting yourself up for failure.”

“I am glad you were able to come up with a test you found meaningful. Remember, you have friends here, regardless of whether you experienced subjective time travel or an incredibly detailed vision.”

They waited a little longer. Obi-Wan critically examined Master Aerdo.

“I’m a Senior Soul Healer” they offered at the non-verbal prompting.

“How interesting.” Obi-Wan remarked dryly.

They sat in awkward silence for another minute. 

They were all equally trained in suppressing fidgets, coughs, or other nervous tics, which made the wait that slightest bit more unbearable, each second nearly imperceptible from the one before.

Eventually the sound of heavy boots moving at speed approached.

Master Nu strode in, gently cradling a great burden. The book gleamed large and vital in the light of its stasis wrap. Her eyes widened at they took in Obi-Wan, still cuffed to the bed. 

“Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation, as asked for. I trust you have an excellent explanation for how a book of poetry is a matter of life or death.”

“I’m hoping that it will convince our friend Master Kenobi that I am who I claim to be and we are where I claim we are.” Koon gently pulled the book from her grasp and reverently placed it on Obi-Wan’s lap. Obi-Wan stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“Obi-Wan, I’m going to uncuff you now. I trust that you will use your freedom to examine our ‘proof.’ We will physically intercede if you make any attempts at self harm.”

Master Nu gasped. “Then the temple rumors...I don’t understand.”

Obi Wan picked up the book as if he was afraid it might bite him. With an irritated snort, he opened brusquely to the middle, and began carelessly flipping ahead.

Master Nu started forward, offended, but Plo Koon held her back. “Please Master Nu, patience-”

Finally Obi-Wan seemed to reach the page he was looking for and stopped. “..And still the rain fell like blood of the womb” he murmured. “That...I tried to think of how the line ended but I...”

Everyone watched as the book shook in Obi-Wan's grasp. He turned the page, gasping slightly and murmuring as he read. “This is...a little gross, but oddly touching. I certainly would not have come up with it myself...but its so clearly...” They watched his react, eyes darting wildly and brow furrowing in confusion.

Several pages later he dropped the book abruptly.

“This is impossible,” he gasped.

Nu darted forward, carefully snatching it from his lap, "I am endeavoring to practice tolerance, but how is destroying an irreplaceable piece of literature supposed to help anyone?!” she snapped

“I admit I wondered that myself, but when I imagined what harm the Sith could do with some of the archive’s more practical works, I understood your decision to torch the collection” Obi-Wan responded dreamily. “I suppose the more beautific works would likely have been destroyed anyway...”

“Torch the archives? I would never.”

“But you did,” Obi-Wan insisted feverishly. “I found your message when we searching for survivors. There were so many bodies piled at the archive door that I was almost hopeful that they had managed to...but I suppose they held out just long enough for you to complete your task.”

Nu backed away slowly. “That sounds like quite the disturbing vision, Master Kenobi.”

“It wasn’t just a vision, it was my life. It-visions don’t last years!” he said, finally growing hysterical. “I remember everything! That gods-awful mission to Cato Nemodia! Getting takeout food with Anakin! The smell of burning flesh in the creche! Singing to Luke! The last year of the war! All of you! You crying after Dooku’s death,” he added gesturing wildly at the archivist. “It was so awkward! You were embarrassed! You told me that for some stupid reason you had ‘held out hope’ it was all an insane uncover mission, that he wasn’t really- Three years alone in the desert! I remember three years of living on fucking Tatooine, how could that possibly be a vision!”

“I...hadn’t told anyone that,” Nu whispered with a hint of alarm. She glanced at Plo Koon, daring him to comment. “I know its very much unlikely at this point, and by any measure, he’s taken things too far, but he’s gone on such long shadow missions in the past...” she looked away.

“Oh, Jocasta...” Plo sighed.

“Master Kenobi. I cannot explain how you came to have such detailed knowledge of the future,” Aerdo said, drawing focus back to the bewildered Obi-Wan, who had shifted into a defensive crouch on the bed. “But I do know one reasonably sure fire way to establish that this, us, is the present. Open yourself up to the force, please, just let yourself listen to what it has to say.

“I...want to, of course I want to believe- but the idea that I’m here- it’s, if you’re real than you can’t possibly understand, its too good to be true.” Obi-Wan responded brokenly.

“I know things have been clouded of late, but, if nothing else trust in the force to not lie to you.” Plo-Koon urged. “If you keep closing yourself off like this, how can you possibly learn if things are better than you think”

Obi-Wan collapsed from his crouch, knees folding underneath.

“If I am...even if I am in the past... Sideous might be watching...i didn’t- i don’t know the extent of his gaze- even if...” he trailed off.

“If it makes you feel safer, you are of course free to again raise your shields to whatever extent you feel necessary once you have verified your reality.” Aerdo replied smoothly.

Obi-Wan looked warily at the three Jedi in the room.“I...” he started, trying to articulate the swelling hope and fear only to find himself at a loss for words.

Aerdo shot him a reassuring smile, “If you don’t feel ready right now, that’s perfectly understandable. We’re very happy you’re willing to reach out as much as you have already. Would you like to pause this discussion for now so we can find you something to eat? I believe a simple broth is a customary first post-bacta meal, but if you have any special requests I’ll do what I can.”

Obi-Wan let out a deep breath, dropping his head into his hands. “I- I need to know, don’t I?” he mumbled. “Force help me...you win.” He took one last, searching look at the faces of his fellow Jedi before closing his eyes and surrendering himself to the force.

He opened a small hole in his mental barricades and tentatively allowed his thoughts to drip out. Tentatively, he trickled over the bank of Plo Koon’s being (expecting a frigid burn) only to find a warm and heartbreakingly familiar pool of tempered kindness. 

He ran, slightly faster now, over the other Jedi presences in the room. Having finished his course without encountering any dark undertow, he ebbed back. There was an indistinct impression of something heavy giving way.

Obi-Wan’s Shields Fell Like A Dam Beneath a Tidal Wave -

[13-reasons-ideas]

Once a Serpent? Part 2

The following week, I started school at Liberty. I went to the office for my schedule. There, I was greeted by a very cheerful girl. She had a black bob haircut. She stuck her hand and introduced herself. “Courtney Crimsen.”

“Kennedy Campbell.” I shook her hand awkwardly.

“I’m going to lead your tour.”

“Oh. I gave myself a tour last week?”

“Well, I’ll give you an insider tour.”

“Okay?” I wasn’t sure about her. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but she seemed to be overly nice. I followed her around the school as she pointed out various things. I had passed by most things in the main building the week prior. She pointed out where some of my classes were and then we went outside. She showed me some of the other buildings. My biology class was on the third floor of the science and technology building.

“Thank you for the tour.” I smiled.

“Of course. If you have any questions, I’m around. You’ll see me in the halls. Feel free to ask.”

“I will. Thank you again.” The bell rang. We parted ways and I walked to my locker. It took a couple of tries, but I got it to open on my own. As I was filling it up, I heard someone calling my name. I looked up and turned around. The voice called again. I looked in that direction up the hall and saw Montgomery walking towards me. Yup. Still hot. Even in regular clothes and not sweating. I waved. He stopped when he reached my locker.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” I pulled my algebra textbook

“How’s your first day going?”

“It’s okay. I haven’t had any classes or anything yet. Courtney gave me a tour.”

“That must have been fun. She’s pretty….”

“Cheery?”

“I was going to say uptight.”

“I got that impression, yeah.” I pulled out my schedule. “I should probably get going. Try to find my way to algebra.”

“Okay, I’ll see you around.”

“See you around Montgomery.”

As I was walking away, he called out, “If you want you can sit with me and the guys at lunch.”

“I have bio in room 347. Come find me.”

One nice thing about starting school at the beginning of the school year, was that you didn’t have to do the stupid introductions no one cares about. In algebra, I picked a seat near the back. I did fine in math. This made it easier to blend in. A boy with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes sat down next to me. He was wearing a blue and white varsity jacket. He took out his books and arranged them on his desk. He turned towards me. “Hey, can I borrow a pencil?”

“Sure.” I dug one out of my bag.

“Thanks. I’m Scott.”

“Kennedy.”

“You’re new here?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not really. If you ignore the way you’re looking around like you aren’t prepared for this at all.” I sighed.

“Says the kid that asked someone for a pencil on the first day of school.”

“Touché.” I laughed.

Class started. We spent some time going over the syllabus for the semester. I circled some dates and points. When the teacher, Mrs. Smith, started teaching, I started to zone out a bit. Nothing too major. But I did miss a couple of operations. I turned to Scott and nodded towards his paper.  He turned it towards me. I copied it down quickly. “Something the two of you would like to share with the class Mr. Reed?”

“No Ma’am. Just class notes here.”

“Sorry.” I said quietly.

“Keep up you two.”

“Yes Ma’am.” We said. The rest of class passed without incident.

When biology ended, Monty was standing across the hall. “You found me.”

“I did. Lunch?”

“Sure.” We walked to the cafeteria making small talk. I hated small talk, but it was better than being stared at. I followed him through the crowded room to a table occupied by several large jocks. I was right. I’m going to guess and say football.

“Guys, Kennedy. Kennedy, Guys.”

“Hey.” The boys nodded.

“Hey. Hey Scott.”

“Kennedy. How was bio?”

“It’s the first day, so boring.” I laughed. Scott laughed too. I sat next to him and reached into my lunch bag. I pulled out my carrot sticks.

“She’s in my algebra class.” He said to the table. They were watching us.

“He saved my ass when I wasn’t paying attention. I also apologize if anyone hates the sound of crunching. We only bought groceries for a few days.”

“Ah.”

While we were eating, I started getting warm. I wasn’t used to the heat here. I took off my sweater, not even thinking twice about the fact that I was wearing a tank top. While I picked at my wrap, sorry, I mean ‘rolled sandwich’, I could feel someone watching me. I had grown used to the feeling, especially in the last couple of years. “Yes?”

“What’s your tattoo supposed to be?” Scott asked.

“It’s personal. I got it a couple of years ago.” I could feel him examining it. “I’m probably not going to answer your questions.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Not really. It felt more strange than painful.” Someone else was looking at it too. I turned around. I caught a boy staring at me. He was wearing a worn in black leather jacket. Not wanting to cause problems on my first day, I ignored it.

“No tattoo questions. Can we ask general questions?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Where are you from?” Bryce asked.

“That’s a loaded question.”

“Oh?”

“My dad is a Major in the Army. Which ‘from’ would you like?”

“Lunch isn’t even half over yet.” Montgomery pointed out. It seemed his friends called him Monty. You aren’t his friend.

“Okay, well. I was born on the base in Germany. We lived there until I was three. Then dad got stationed in Denver. Lived there until I was about six. From there, we moved to Chicago. I was about eight when we moved to New York City. We were there until I was about twelve. Then we moved to Riverdale. My dad had requested to move upstate to have a change of pace. He could still commute. And then we moved here like a week or so ago.”

“So where do you consider home?” Charlie asked. He seemed like he was genuinely nice.

“Riverdale. Not just because we were there the longest. I put down roots there. I actually made friends. I dated. Some relationships were less serious than others.” You mean other. “I grew up there. It’s where I became my own person. It’s home.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Why did you have to move then?”

“I haven’t graduated yet. My parents didn’t want to leave me there alone while I was still going to school.” If I had my way, I wouldn’t be here by now. I could feel someone’s eyes on me again. I looked and caught Monty staring. Maybe here won’t be so bad.

I got a text from Jughead as we were all talking. Hey Kenz. How’s California treating you?

Hot.

You love the heat. :P

I know. It’s the best. :P

Other than that, how’s it going?

It’s going okay. I met some people. My tour guide was… Happy with a capital P.

They made you take a tour?

Yup. And I still got lost looking for my biology class. I chuckled to myself.

“What’s funny?” Bryce asked.

“Nothing.” I put my phone down on the table. That evidently was a bad idea. My phone started buzzing rapidly. I grabbed it quickly and grimaced. “Sorry.” Fangs was texting me. He seemed to be in a great mood for the first day of school.

Kennedy! We have news. Good news. Great news. The best news. Of course, each sentence was a different message.

Oh? What’s happening?

They put soda in the vending machine again. That’s it? That’s the news?

“That’s it?” I asked, out loud.

“What?” A few guys asked.

“Shit. Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes. So now you have to share the reason.” Scott smiled.

“My friend is freaking out because they out soda in the vending machines at my old school.”

“That’s not a bad reason to freak out.” Monty shrugged.

“I don’t need six individual text messages about it.”

“Well. That’s a lot.” I nodded.

After lunch, I had a free period, so I wandered around the school a little more. My tour wasn’t exactly the greatest after all. Once I mapped out a decent route to my classes, I decided to sit outside. It was nice out. It’s California. It’s usually nice out. I couldn’t help myself while I sat. I pulled out my phone and started scrolling through pictures of Sweetpea and I. A lot of them were candid shots one or the other of us had taken. There were some at various gatherings. One of me the first time I put on his old jacket. IT had felt so foreign to me then. Now it felt like something was missing because I didn’t have it.

Approaching footsteps startled me. Instinctively, my hand flew to my front pocket. Then I remembered that my knife wasn’t there. I had left it at home. I didn’t need it here. It was safe. I wasn’t a target anymore. “Hey.” The voice said above me. I already recognized it as Scott.

“Hey.”

“Can I sit?” He motioned to the ground.

“Free country.” I watched him sit on the bench next to me. He left a respectable distance between us.

“How’s your first day going?”

“It’s okay. How’s your first day of senior year?”

“It’s okay. Doesn’t quite feel real yet.”

“It really doesn’t, no.”

“I’m going to apologize for my friends now. They can be a handful sometimes.”

“I know how to work with that. My friends back home were… a handful and half.”

We sat quietly for a few minutes. “Is Miss Smith always so?” I trailed off, unable to find the right word.

“Intense?”

“Yeah.”

“She can be. Usually at exam time. Nothing too out of the ordinary.”

“Good to know.”

“New York, huh?”

“Yeah. I was pretty young when we lived in the city, so I don’t really have a lot of cool stories.”

“But of Riverdale?”

“I have stories.”

“Like?”

“Can’t talk about them with strangers.”

“I don’t have to be a stranger.” I turned to him and raised my brow. “Oh. Oh

no. I didn’t mean. I have a girlfriend.”

“Is that how you asked all your friends to be friends?”

“No.” He didn’t sound very convincing.

“Friends then. I won’t cheat off you in math by the way.”

“That’s probably a good thing. You wouldn’t do great if you did.” We exchanged numbers. “So, since I’m not a stranger anymore, does that mean I can hear some stories?”

“Soon enough.” I smiled. Scott headed off to meet his girlfriend.

I pulled out my phone again and texted Jughead. I made a friend. My thumb hovered over Sweetpea’s text chain. I couldn’t bring myself to delete it or his contact. I had tried several times over the last two weeks. Something inside of me just kept finding reasons not to. My mind trailed off to the other boy who had caught my attention here. There was something about Montgomery that just made me want to know him. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

It didn’t start feeling like school until the second week of classes. Most of the week prior had been a lot of going over course outlines and review of the previous year’s material. Bryce and his friends had taken a liking to me. It was assumed by my third day that I would be a fixture within their group. Scott’s girlfriend, Melissa, was nice. She didn’t seem to see me as a threat. That’s a relief. I would have hated to have my first real friend here, not be able to be friends with me after all.

In the past couple of weeks, I found myself comparing this group of athletes to my friends back home. Bryce seemed to be the closest to Reggie. He-and everyone else for that matter-considered himself the ringleader of this group. Scott was an observer, much like Jughead. It took me a few days, but I realized that Jeff was pretty similar to Archie. People liked him and he was nice. For the sake of being nice. Charlie, now Charlie was quickly becoming a favourite. He was like a human golden retriever. He reminded me so much of Fangs I wanted to cry. Justin reminded me a lot of Toni. The glue in a way. When I thought of Monty-I was considered his friend now, so I could call him that- I only had one other person in mind. Sweetpea. Well, you can’t say I don’t have a type. I hadn’t assigned roles from my hometown to everyone in the group. Zach, for example was hard to pin down.

By mid-September, I started to get comfortable. Not comfortable enough to let my guard down. I had learned my lesson with Sweetpea. I was hanging out with Scott at lunch. We had both decided we could use a break from being surrounded by jocks all the time. “I don’t know Scott.”

“Come on. You said you didn’t share stories with strangers. I’m not a stranger anymore.”

“I know. Let me think.” I stopped to think about what stories I could share. Ones that didn’t involve outing that I dated a gang member. Or that didn’t involve Sweetpea. That didn’t leave a lot of recent stories. Most of my stories from the last two years involved him or the Serpents in one capacity or another.

“Okay I have one. So my friend, we call him Jughead.” Scott looked at me and shook his head, confused. “It’s better than Forsythe Pendleton Jones III.”

“Yes. That is better.”

“Anyway. He was my first real friend when I moved to Riverdale. We must have barely been thirteen at the time. I had spent the night at his place. we decided we wanted to make pancakes in the morning.” I paused and looked up when Monty sat down with us. What was I saying? I noticed a bruise on his cheek that hadn’t been there yesterday. I wonder what that’s from. No Kennedy. Don’t get involved.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Uh,” I paused.

“Did I interrupt?”

“No. Kennedy was just about to tell me a story about Riverdale.”

“Yeah. Uh, what was I saying?”

“Pancakes.”

“Oh yes! We wanted pancakes. We must have used almost every Tupperware dish in his place. It looked like a tornado had torn through the kitchen. His dad walked out, took one look at the kitchen, and shoo’d us out. We were watching tv until he started a fire in the pan.”

“His dad lit breakfast on fire?”

“Yeah. So, he gave up and took us to the diner for breakfast.”

“How did he set the pancakes on fire?” Monty asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” I shrugged. Scott didn’t ask for another story.

“What’s Riverdale like?” Monty asked.

“It’s a small town. I feel like it’s pretty standard for a small town.” I didn’t need to mention the Serpents or the Ghoulies or just how separated the North and South sides of town were. “The woods are nice that surround the town.”

“The woods are nice?”

“Yeah. Very… woodsy.”

“Uh huh. Anything else?”

“Pop’s Diner has the best milkshakes I’ve ever had.”

“You haven’t had the milkshakes at Rosie’s yet.” Scott interjected.

“No, I haven’t.”

“They have the best shakes. No argument.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that, Scott.” I smirked.

[draco-kasai]

Hero Collaboration Program

Chapter 2 pt. 1: Welcome to The Program! --> 

Chapter 2 pt. 2                                            Find Chapter 1 here!

Story Summery: High School Hero Collaboration Program! Helping Sophomore hero students connect with others around the world! Come join us for a two-week-long trip to one of our schools for an amazing once in a lifetime experience with students of Yuuei! Only a lucky 40 students will be selected for this program. They will be split into two groups of 20 and sent to different schools to have completely unique experiences!

AKA; A very bitg crossover fanfic I started because I can’t help myself. I adore all of these characters and hope I had done them justice, though I did take many backstories and threw them into the meat grinder to remold them in a way that fits this universe. Also, I love 1-A but I also want to take them down a peg or two... I also just want to see them get their asses handed to them.  

A/N: Here it is! Chapter two! I hope anyone who decides to read it enjoys!

Alfred Freedom Jones practically bounced out of his bed in excitement. All the exchange student’s had arrived around 7PM last night in hopes for them to receive enough rest and get used to any sudden time change and jet lag. He and Valerie - a teacher of the school where they conduct part of the program - had wanted to be the ones to pick up and welcome all the kids. However, They were tasked with any last minute decorating to make the dorms presentable and welcoming and preparing dinner, that way the kids would have food in their bellies before they headed to their dorms and began unpacking and going to bed. 

The dorms of the school are located right behind the school itself. Although they were especially made 15 years ago since the program had begun, they are used for other purposes throughout the year to not go to waste. When students find themselves in situations where they need a place to stay, they are welcome to speak to a counselor to explain the situation, where they are given a room key and a ‘job’ as a tutor or teacher's assistant as well as have mandatory counseling to ‘pay off’ their stay. Sports clubs are also welcome to apply and stay in the program dorms during the summer for training camp, and many clubs even enjoy having sleep-overs for a few days as a bonding activity. 

This year has been one of the few where nobody has found the need to stay in the dorms throughout their school year. Alfred could almost cry for joy at that fact. Not only is there no student in the school facing such problems, but there won't be a random kid trying to sneak into all of their activities. It’s endearing when it happens the first few times, but the moment you have every one of those students trying to sneak into amusement parks and other field trips with the exchange students they’d become attached to, making you buy them a ticket on the spot to not just send them back, it becomes a little of a problem. Needless to say, he and Valerie have started carrying extra money with them on field trips.

Last year was a new one. Instead of them just buying a ticket on the spot, the two seniors that were with them had been snuck onto the bus and into six flags. They had somehow convinced the shy Brazilian boy to use their quirk to turn them into mice for an hour, so they could sneak in.

Everyone that enters a theme park nowadays are given quirk suppressant bracelets, that are custom-made for each theme park with designs, shapes and looks, that they must wear during their stay and return when they leave. The senior students were somehow able to get their hands on some when they transformed back, inside the theme park.

 Everyone was very smug when they explained to Alfred and Valerie how exactly two seniors not in the program and without tickets got into the theme park. Even the shy boy seemed proud that so much was accomplished with their quirk. As illegal as that is, he couldn’t help but feel a little proud of how they had just outsmarted the system. Although that didn’t stop, he or Valerie from lecturing them. His kids were very apologetic, and tried to make up for it by paying the teachers for the two students tickets by all pitching in.  He had avoided Aizawa’s questioning stare at the two students the whole day and allowed Valerie and the kids to keep him busy.

All things considered, Alfred and Valerie might not be the best choices as chaperones for the students, since they let them get away with shit when they know they’ve been outsmarted. Their superiors don’t have to know. Although the teachers praise them for being so innovative, the two teachers always make sure to drill it into their brain how important following the law is and how they shouldn't abuse their quirks in such ways. They also make sure to explain what kind of consequences such actions can cause, especially if they were pros. 

The reason they don’t kick them out of the program or anything, though, is because they are kids in training for a dangerous profession. They deserve the opportunity to have fun and act their age every now and again. Sure, they usually end up realizing how idiotic many of their ideas turn out to be, but it’s best they start learning now than mess up later and have their careers ruined for it. He and Valerie have kept in contact with kids who had graduated too! They have all become wonderful heroes, even if they had pulled quite a few pranks during their time in the program.

Adjusting the prescription glasses on his face, Alfred grabbed all the lanyards with cardholders attached to them and made sure each of the students program ID’s, room and key cards were there. He was going to hand them out last night after dinner, but all the kids seemed too exhausted, so he and Valerie had led them to their rooms to go unpack and rest. Once he was sure all of them were there, he grabbed his own lanyard. Wrapping it around his jeans' belt loop, he grabbed a folder and stepped out of his dorm. 

Looking at his watch, he realized it was 9:01 AM. They had told the kids to set their alarms, so they should be awake and getting ready by now. Going over the schedule he had memorized, he noted that they all had to be in the cafeteria at 9:45 for a late breakfast. After, they would head over to the large field separating the two dorm buildings for group activities. Since the students are all jet-lagged, they are free from classes till Friday, tomorrow. It may be a program for training, but they're students, can’t let them all fall behind.

 Making his way down the hallway, he began knocking on doors to the boys rooms on his floor. “Head down to the common area in ten minutes! Wear something comfortable for physical activity!” he called out as he made his way down all 12 doors. He could faintly hear Valerie doing the same downstairs to the females. 

As he walked towards the stairs, he spotted a few students already following behind him. He had even spotted a few of the girls walking behind Valerie, already attempting small talk. Once in the common area, he and Valerie smiled at the kids that followed them down.

“You kids are free to enjoy yourselves with anything you’d like while we wait for the others.” Valerie’s chipper voice practically sang as she spoke. “The remote to the TV is on the coffee table, the pool table racks are on the wall over there, the ball for the foosball table should be in one of the goals, and you are free to explore the field, just don’t go too far.” 

Both adults watched in amusement as the students stared around in awe. By the time the ten minutes had passed, all the students were scattered throughout the field, or common room. It hadn’t taken long for the two adults to gather them all up outside. One of the students had been quite sociable, going around speaking to everyone.

“Alright students ~!” Valerie sang as she closed and locked the sliding glass door behind her, “Since we still have time before we have to head over for breakfast, let’s all introduce ourselves properly to one another.” 

Alfred gave the kids a two finger salute as his partner took her place next to him, “Wassup guys! I’m Alfred Freedom Jones! Call me Mr. Jones! I’m a representative of the Hero collaboration program! I’ve been to both schools and have been doing this for 6 years! I was actually a student of this program when it was established! I hope you all enjoy yourselves while you are here!”

“Hello~! I’m Valerie Felicity Frizzle! Please, feel free to call me Miss. Frizzle or even Frizz, as many of my kids call me. I have been teaching in Marina high school for 19 years now. I was actually the teacher that had convinced my coworkers and the district to sign our school up for this lovely program! Truly, it has been a wonderful joy to meet and work with such wonderful children! I hope you all have a glorious experience and take home with you something new~!” The woman curtsied, showing off her dark purple dress that depicted outer space in beautiful patterns and colors.

“Now then! Your turn guys! Anyone want to go first, or shall we popcorn it? Maybe left to right? Choose someone and let them choose after? Whatcha guys up for?”

Both teachers watched in amusement as they watched the kids glance around at one another. They had seen some of them already starting to make some friends. Five of them seemed to get along well while playing foosball. Two had played 8-ball while conversing with two other students that watched with interest. Some of the others kept to themselves while watching TV or hanging around outside. Hopefully they are able to make some friends too. Just as Miss. Frizzle prepared to call on someone, a green arm raised up.

“Me! Me! I would love to go first!” The boy’s grin widened as everyone's gaze landed on him. Everything about him was a different shade of  green, from his skin to his hair and eyes. He wore a white tank top with an unbuttoned short-sleeved button up that has Disney dogs printed all over it, and loose, knee-length jean shorts. A boy at the other end of the crowd of students with green eyes and a serious face jolted in surprise and sank a little into his seat once he noticed him. 

“I like your enthusiasm, kid! Alright! Let’s hear it! Ah, don’t share any quirk information, though! We have a little activity planned later, and staying anonymous would be the best course of action.” Alfred grinned just as wide in response. 

“Okay!” He bounced over to stand between them. It was unnecessary, but it looks like it’s a thing now. Both teachers could see the discomfort that had settled on a small handful of students at the thought of standing in front of strangers to introduce themselves. “Hi! My name is Garfield Mark Logan! You guys can call me Gar! My name can be quite the mouthful. My hero name is Beast Boy and I came from San Francisco, aaand oh yeah! I’m Vegetarian! It’s nice to meet you all -! Oh my gosh, Damian! Hey dude!!” 

Said boy groaned as he facepalmed. A few people in the group held back their laughter as best they could as Garfield rushed over to him. Grabbing the sleeve of Damian’s jacket, he dragged him to the front of the crowd, “You practically ghosted us, dude. This is your punishment. Introduce yourself.” 

Damian almost stumbled when Garfield pushed him before retreating back to his spot next to a boy with green highlights in his hair. Letting out a heavy sigh, he fixed the sleeve to his hoodie and straightened his black V-neck shirt. Clearing his throat, he spoke, “Hello, I am Damian Wayne. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I suppose if I am going off of Garfield’s introduction; my hero name is Red Bird, I came from Gotham in New Jersey, and I am also Vegetarian.” Green eyes scanned the crowd before pointing to a boy with light brown hair wearing a tie diy shirt. “You go next.”

“O - oh! Um, okay.” The boy stood to his feet from his place on the concrete, “Hi, uh, My name is Rudy Tabootie. I live pretty close actually, Burbank, to be exact. Uh, I’m not vegetarian… sorry? Uh, my Hero name is Snap. It’s really cool to meet you all.” and just like that, all the introductions went, and the group found themselves in the cafeteria for breakfast with their new lanyards. It wasn’t long till all the student’s exited the cafeteria and made their way to the field between the dorms. 

“Alright guys! We want to explain a few things with you before we start today’s first activity!” Mr. Jones clapped his hands together, excitedly. 

“I’m sure you have all noticed how the special guests, the main reason for this program, Yuuei isn’t here yet. Well, they will all be arriving tomorrow. However, you will not be introduced to them until Monday.” Miss. Frizzle smiled widely, the students before them began murmuring to one another in confusion.

“Um, Why?” A girl with pearl white skin asked. She wore light gray joggers, a sky blue tank top and had her cobalt blue hair tied up in pigtails. Jenny Walkman.

“The answer is simple! The students of Yuuei have had the whole school year to train and get to know one another, as well as their abilities. Needless to say, they all know how to work together.” Miss. Frizzle explained, “For this reason, our program is set up to allow all the exchange students to have time to get to know one another as well as each other's quirks and skills, so you may be able to work together when needed. This way, when we do battle training, everything would be on as equal footing as we can get.”

Mr. Jones nodded beside her, “Which is why all weekend, as they rest from their long flight, get accustomed to their surroundings and have fun sightseeing, we will be doing a bunch of group activities to get to know one another better. That way, when we begin battle training…” He trails off, hoping someone would finish for him. He wasn’t disappointed. 

“We’d at least be on equal footing against them.” A girl with long red hair that she had tied up in a ponytail responded. Wearing a green crop top, and dark blue cargo pants, she crossed her arms over her chest, a smile crossing her lips slightly at the plan. Kimberly Anne Possible

“Precisely!” Miss. Frizzle and Mr. Jones sang together.

“Today’s activity, drum roll please,” Miss. Frizzle happily made the sound effect for her coworker. Mr. Jones held up a dodgeball, where he got it, nobody knows, “Dodgeball!”

Chapter 2 pt. 2  

[bruh-haikyuu]

REQUEST: Can you do a scenario where lev meets his s/o because she playing the piano or singing. Thank you. Love your writing.❤️

A/N: Thank you for requesting!! Ok Sasha storytime 😳😳 I used to be in a piano class since I was 5 (I quit, but I still play just for fun). And I joined this competition when I was 9 and got selected as one of the finalists - and I was so fucking surprised bc jesus, I play averagely for all I can say... I’m not the best, but I’m definitely not the worst. But there was this messed up system where more familiar faces/winners would definitely be chosen. And despite some other kids messing up a lot, the MCs removed me first bc “Sorry, no one knows you around here. You played better than some others, but maybe if you talked more, you could win. No one really wants a winner they’re not familiar with.” I couldn’t really say anything. I knew they were right. So I left with a Certificate of Participation and not even proof that the judges chose me as a finalist. THIS particular event got me so fucked up for so long that I tried to get myself sick/injured so that I wouldn’t have to go to my piano classes for 4 weeks straight. Eventually, I pulled out after my exam and started playing for myself, with the songs that I enjoy, whenever I want. So,,, fuck those MCs and my teacher, I’m a bad bitch you can’t kill me 😎 *plays Superbass by Nicki Minaj* FEM!READER BELOW

duende. | haiba lev

summary: in which lev has no sense of direction, but finds a lone sugarplum fairy along the way.

word count: 2438

warnings: none

(n.) the feeling of profound awe experienced when viewing a piece of art, watching a performance or listening to music that has deeply moved a person

It’s difficult to tell precisely... but Lev was definitely lost.

It wasn’t his fault the school had to be so large! What’s the point of having so much staircases when they weren’t going to lead to one conjoined hallway? It was like a maze, except Lev knew he wasn’t getting anywhere near a familiar area.

Crap! he cursed, pawing nervously at his empty pant pocket. I left my phone in the clubroom.

Light was already fading from the west-side window and he hadn’t come across anyone for the past 15 minutes. He recalled something Taketora said about a part of the school being dead deserted. Was this that place? He couldn’t tell.

He was getting impatient. If Lev didn’t hurry up and submit his additional worksheets to Sakamatsu-sensei before sundown, it was over. Goodbye to the club’s training camp. Goodbye to becoming the greatest ace Nekoma has ever had. Goodbye to everything he ever cared about.

Instinct taking over, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him and called out to the empty hallways for someone. Anyone. “Hello?! Sakamatsu-sensei...?!”

And when the vacant corridors replied back to him, Lev stilled, frozen.

“...Piano?”

Alisa had told him something about ghosts once. It was right after she’d gone out to watch some horror movie with her friends. Lev couldn’t remember exactly her words, but his sister had “slept” with her eyes open that night and he wondered if he should be taking her advice seriously.

But this didn’t sound like a ghost. Something that sounded so beautiful wouldn’t have any murderous intention behind it... right?

The melody reminded Lev of those old ballets his grandmother would play on TV when she visited. Every glissando a delicate spin by one of the performers, and every perky note a tiny leap. He could almost see them, those beautiful dancers, and Lev wondered—if he were to trace the music to its source, would he find a charming sugarplum fairy waiting for him?

His feet were already ahead of his thoughts. Lev couldn’t even tell where he was in the gallery of clubrooms. His senses of direction numbed, he relied on his ears and the sweet, sweet melody of the piano that was getting warmer. And warmer. Warmer.

Hot.

“Or...chestra Club?” he read out, the placard’s kanji wrapping itself around his head. Peering through the rectangular window of the doors, Lev zeroed in on the bareness of the room, save for the large grand piano settled in the center.

This is the place... right? he thought, retreating slowly. No one’s here.

Looking around for good measure, Lev scratched his head. Ah, geez, I don’t even know where I am anymore. He reconsidered throwing away his curiosity and return to his quest for the third year’s Teacher’s Room before his Biology teacher could scold him for his incompetence. But the little fluff of hair peeking out from behind the piano swayed him over and he didn’t even stop to think when he barged through the doors.

“Fairy!”

The girl who squeaked in shock really did convince Lev for a millisecond that she was a fairy. Straight out of that stage his TV had replayed for him. Tiny in stature, eyes shining like morning dewdrops and fingers pressed again the white keys, thin and graceful as if you were producing magic. All excluding the lack of a pair of shimmering wings sprouted on her back, you were an enigma in this barren universe.

“I’m human,” you said, voice like air. Breezing and pushing like wind.

Lev approached the center of the room, speculating if your glamour would disappear if he were to come closer. “T-That song you played. That was from a ballet, right?”

“It’s Tchaikovsky,” you replied bluntly, grinning. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before, can’t recall... We’re not too familiar, but you’re awfully rude for a first year, aren’t you? At least address me with the proper suffixes if you’re going to assume my species like that, Giant-kun.”

Speak for yourself! he thought, becoming more and more amused by this fanciful person. “I mean, you don’t look like a high school student either—”

You, completely ignoring him, returned your attention the piano, playing another song. This one faster, more fluid. Seeing your hands up-close, Lev eyed the muted details of your hand. A gentle blush on its skin, illuminated by the sunlight from the large window sitting ajar. His sister would kill to have a hint at your manicure routine.

So this is what a pianist’s hands looks like.

“Oh, I remember now,” hands coming to a rest on your skirt, the fairy girl turned to him, as elegant as ever. Now that the room was silent, there was a nervousness that lingered in the air. “You’re one of Kuroo’s boys, aren’t you?”

Hearing the familiar name of the no-nonsense captain of the Volleyball Club, Lev perked up, “You know Kuroo-san?”

“Of course, we’re in the same class after all.”

Same class. That would mean—no way!

“Y-you’re older than me?!”

You gave him a bright smile. Added to your fairy-like personage, Lev couldn’t help but to notice that this upperclassman of his was aware of his existence. There was actually a girl—who was awfully cute and just his type if he thought about it—in this godforsaken school who knew about Nekoma’s ‘ace’, Haiba Lev.

This was a dream, right? No, he shouldn’t be saying such a thing. In fact, Lev had gotten so engrossed in this reality that he didn’t realize how much he was staring into your beautiful face before you piped up again.

“Oh, it’s almost time for me to lock up. I forgot to ask, did you need anything when you came in here?”

Wait, what time is it?!

Lev let out a strangled noise between a dying boar and a tearful sob. Collapsing on the floor before his worried senpai, he squeezed the papers in his hand. Oh, it was over now. Over, over, over. Hello wretched make-up exam, goodbye glorious training camp...

Kneeling down next to him, you peeked at his wincing face. “H-hey, are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Raising his head to look into your swirling eyes, Lev pursed his lips. Damn, you were totally going to think he was uncool after this. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he lowered his head in a bow.

“Senpai, could you show me the way to the third year’s teacher’s room? I’ve got an assignment to submit before 5 pm and I don’t know where I am! Please, senpai, I need to—”

No more words were exchanged when you grabbed Lev’s collosal hands in your delicate ones and dragged him through the door. You sped and hurtled down the corridors, bringing him along with you in this strange joyride. It was a funny sensation, similar to being towed around a park by a wild dog on a leash��except you weren’t a dog, but simply a shorter person whose size reminded him a bit of Yaku-san...

“S-Senpai—?!” he wheezed out, long legs pedalling in front of him. For someone nearly half his height, you were really fast; he wondered if you should’ve went for the Track and Field Club instead of the Orchestra Club.

Just as he had thought of letting go before you became a physical hazard to him, you skid to a halt in front of a door. Panting, you smiled up at him. “Here we are. Y-You’re not late, right?”

Eyes darting between the doors to the teacher’s office and you, the burning intention of a hug fuzzed out Lev’s brain—unfortunately, that would have to wait until later. Shoving the door open, he dashed inside the near-empty office and handed over his pile of crumpled assignments to the jaded Sakamatsu-sensei, face red.

Filing through the papers, the Biology teacher griped. “Well, all the assignments I asked for you to do are here... I’ll inform the Volleyball Club supervisor that you’ll be able to join the training camp this weekend.”

Saved. He was saved.

Exiting the office, he bowed before you—his fairy godmother—and murmured. “Thank you, senpai! You saved my life... ”

“Y-You’re welcome,” you said. “But I don’t think I went as far as “saving your life”, um... what was your name?”

“Haiba! Haiba Lev. Thank you so much!”

When you giggled, Lev heard the choirs of angels fill his head. God, he really wanted to hug you, stuff you in his pocket and bring you home with him to coo at and cuddle.

“The pleasure is mine, Haiba-kun. You’re an interesting person, you know? I’m glad we met.”

Lev really felt like he’d won the lottery. Was this finally his chance? Was he going to get a super cute, older girlfriend before his intolerable seniors? Unthinkable! Yet here he was, indulging in the soft smile of Nekoma’s resident sugarplum fairy, as if his entire gag reel of clumsy flukes never existed.

“Ah! I forgot to lock the doors to the clubroom!” you yelped. Even in panic, Lev thought you looked cute. “It was nice getting to know you, Haiba-kun. The main staircase is right over there, so you’ll be able to get back without getting lost. Be safe!”

Before he could offer his hand in accompanying you—at least being next to you for as long as possible—you had already sped off into an indistinct corner, the amber light of sundown fading with your shadow. And once again, Lev was alone.

Damn. He didn’t even ask for your name.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“You’re asking me... if I know a girl in my class called ‘Fairy-senpai’?”

The gaze in Lev’s green eyes were resolute. “Yes.”

Kuroo sighed, wiping off his sweat with a towel. Day by day, he swore, the first-years were getting more and more difficult to deal with. “Someone named Fairy who hangs around in that derelict part of the third floor sounds shady as hell. And what club did you say she was from?”

“Orchestra Club.”

“We have an Orchestra Club?”

Lev was getting nowhere with the rooster-headed captain; it was either that, or Kuroo was intentionally leading him to a dead-end out of sheer mischief. Anything could happen with him.

It had been a total of 18 hours since he’d last seen you, and Lev’s head had never felt any emptier. He’d startled his parents and Alisa enough by playing one of his grandmother’s ballet DVDs once he’d arrived home. But it wasn’t the same. Even the visual movements of the ballerinas and the skill of the ensemble didn’t amount to your solo rendition.

Yours was more natural, more sturdy. Something he could feel and see without opening his eyes or reaching out to it. Smitten with your performance, Lev slept that night, head filled with the thought of seeing you again, his little sugarplum fairy in the maze of doors and desolation. And maybe, he’d even get your number this time.

“She’s really good at the piano and has a twinkly smile. Fairy-senpai is a bit short too, really tiny,” Lev hesitated to continue, looking around for safety “... A bit like Yaku-san’s height.”

“What’s this I hear about my height? Hey, Lev! Why aren’t you practicing your digging receives?!”

Wincing at the stinging kick thrown at his back, Lev pouted miserably. Watching the poor behemoth being dragged away by the demonic upperclassman, an implausible feeling of pity struck through Kuroo, and he called out for the libero.

“A cute girl who looks like a fairy, can play the piano and is in the Orchestra Club? In our class?” Yaku repeated after Lev and Kuroo’s explanation. Tapping his chin in deep thought, he replied dubiously. “Doesn’t that sound a bit like L/N-san to you?”

“Ehh? L/N-chan can play the piano? I never knew that.”

Yaku clicked his tongue indignantly. “That’s because you barely talk to her. Maybe if you attended cleaning duty properly, you would’ve realized that when you’re paired up with her.”

The sound of his seniors bickering was already white noise to him. L/N. Repeating the syllables on his tongue, Lev tasted a sugary relish linger in his mouth. What a beautiful name. A fitting name, and suddenly, he already sensed that your first name would be just as wonderful.

“Though I’m impressed that you managed to get a full conversation out of L/N-san. Did you scare her or something?” Yaku snickered at Lev’s unappreciative scowl. “It’s just that L/N-san only says something when she’s required to. Otherwise... she’s really quiet. I’ve only heard her say ‘thank you’, ‘I’m sorry’, ‘yes’ and ‘no’ for the past three years, everything else we know about her comes from gossip.”

Lev’s chest swelled up and he smirked. “Maybe she likes younger guys like me.”

“I think she likes you because you’ve got nothing going on in your head at all,” the team captain scoffed attracting the giggles of his surrounding teammates. “You are right though, Lev. L/N-chan is a really cute person... I might get interested one of these days.”

“H-Huh?! C’mon, Kuroo-san! I’ve got dibs on her first!”

Nearly there, the captain thought. Lev’s ears were already burning red, a clear sign of his impulsive outburst. And when the timing was right, the Volleyball Club loved to use his recklessness for profit.

Crossing his arms in faux doubt, Kuroo shrugged. “I don’t know... I highly doubt you’ll attract her attention if you’re not even a regular on the team...”

Furrowing his brows deeply, Lev snatched a ball from the ground and stared deeply into the captain’s lacklustre eyes. “I-I’ll show you! I’ll become a regular on the team and the ace! That’s why I’m going to go practice right now, right, Yaku-san?!”

Even Yaku, completely amused and alarmed, had to do a double take. “R-Right... Do your best then.”

“I will!”

Chuckling at Lev’s shrinking back, Kuroo patted himself on the back for a job well done. Kenma, who had watched the entire nasty exchange go down, was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Weakly punching his childhood friend on his shoulder, he grumbled. “Great... Now that he’s fired up about some girl, he’ll keep asking me for more tosses. Kuroo, if I pass out because of your ‘encouragement’, you’re paying for my health insurance.”

Lev couldn’t hear the new conversation happening between the team’s setter and the captain, but that didn’t matter right now. He was going to practice, become better, then the best. Then ask you out, his sugarplum fairy in the third floor’s Orchestra Club clubroom. Lev felt invincible.

[yukheistics]

unrequited, johnny seo.

pairing johnny seo x reader

word count 1.4k

genre angst, fluff

warning(s) one-sided shit, cursing, mention of dick (like once?)

note found this in my drafts and basically revamped it. moral of the story: this was supposed to be some fwb!au but gave up on that and wrote this instead lol (^_^). also i seem to have a thing for naming my stories basic ass names hELP

summary you’d have to cross the whole galaxy to reach him. he holds stars in his eyes for someone who clearly isn’t you.

As soon as the party ends, you find him outside in the cold. You wonder how he is managing the weather when he’s simply dressed in a black henley and ripped jeans.

His eyes are focused at the dark sky, indicating that he has probably spent his entire time drinking by himself rather than interacting with anyone else. He has his fingers loosely wrapped around a beer bottle, taking small sips every now and then. He enthralls you for all the right reasons: he’s the sweet taste of bubblegum, the warm afterglow of sunlight, and the soft pitter-patter of rain on a cloudy day. He’s flushed cheeks and saccharine smiles. He’s Johnny Seo. 

You’re in love with him.

(He doesn’t love you like that.)

You don’t bother to give him a greet and take a seat next to him. “You know everyone is worried about you,” your voice comes out as a whisper and lean against the wooden pole on the porch. 

“When is everyone not worried about me,” he states, before a rich, deep chuckle escapes from his throat. He focuses his attention to you and gives you a cheeky smile. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

You nod slowly, feigning to be convinced. “Actually, Yerim is probably the only one concerned if you ask me,” you point out. “She almost calls me everyday, but at least once in our calls, she never fails to ask how her brother is really doing. For someone who almost gave her brother a bloody nose in our senior year, she loves you more than anything.”

“C’mon, who doesn’t love me?” he suggests and wears a lazy smirk. “Everyone loves me.”

You marvel at the way he grins at you and feel your heart beating erratically in your chest. You turn your head and ignore his gaze. “Except I,” you inform him, feeling him poke your side when you say it. “You should’ve played beer pong with me and Ten. He accidentally hit the ball in Yangyang’s eye,” you pause and think of the scene earlier. “I’m still debating if he did that on purpose or not.”

“On purpose,” Johnny shakes his head. “It’s Ten. He’s good at beer pong. He wouldn’t miss a shot on purpose. His pride is too large for that.”

“You’re not wrong,” you agree quietly. He suddenly leans the side of his cheek on the top of your head. You silently gulp at the unexpected contact and almost faint at the whiff of his cologne. Fuck. “How was spending two hours out here like?” you ask him to distract the obvious red tint spreading on your cheeks. 

“Boring,” he answers. 

You hesitate. “Why did you stay here then?”

To be honest, you don’t need to ask. You saw how his smile dropped all of a sudden earlier. You didn’t get the chance to ask what was wrong when he left your side all of a sudden, mumbling something about getting a drink. You realized back then how he saw her. 

Ahn Bora. His ex. 

She’s pretty. She’s pretty like a doll: pale skin, long brown hair, dark red lips, doe-like eyes, and a curvy figure to complement her features. She resembled a doll that you’ve always envied when you were a child. 

You merely gave her a smile at that and turned your attention towards Jaehyun. He was telling some story about his mom embarrassing him during a lecture or something. You tried to focus on his story, but a part of you wanted to find him and comfort him. But you knew he wanted to be left alone. 

Johnny still loves her. It’s painfully obvious. You believe it’s been two months since she broke up with him, but he hasn’t moved on. He lingers in the remnants of her. You can’t really say anything about it either, because you’ve been crushing on your best friend’s brother longer than he and Bora have been dating. 

(He doesn’t love you like that.) 

“No reason,” he answers confidently and places the beer bottle on the ground. “It was getting stuffy back there and I needed fresh air.”

“Interesting,” you reply dryly and push his head off of yours. “You’re a really bad liar, has anyone ever told you that?”

He pouts. “Maybe once or twice,” he eyes you for a second. “Did you drink today?”

“No,” you roll your eyes. “You know I’m the one driving.”

“Oh yeah,” he says in realization and shakes the beer bottle from the ground. “Well, if you did drink, we could’ve just stayed here. I don’t think any of the boys would mind if we crashed.”

You remember the last time staying over since you and him were drunk and couldn’t drive home. Let’s just say, you were scarred when you accidentally walked into one of the frat members getting his dick sucked at eight in the morning in the bathroom. It was Kun. Ugh. You couldn’t even look him in the eye afterwards—until now. They could’ve at least locked the door or any clear indication that it was occupied. 

You scrunch your nose. “No, thanks.”

“You care too much,” he hums and wraps one of his arms around you. 

“You can talk about it you know,” you murmur and lean your head into his shoulder, pretending that he isn’t making your feelings go on overdrive.

Johnny looks warm underneath the moonlight as he thinks of what to say to you about how he felt seeing her for the first time in a while. He isn’t worth the heartbreak, you think, but you continue pursuing on false hope that one day he will feel the same way. He won’t. He won’t. He won’t. 

(He doesn’t love you like that.)

“Felt weird,” he finally speaks after a minute. “I also tried to hate her in the process of our breakup,” he laughs nervously. “I can’t. I can’t bring myself to hate her despite all the heartbreak she put me through. I still have a pretty image of her smile embedded in my brain and the sound of her laugh resonating in a cold room at midnight. It makes the room warmer. If that even makes sense. I don’t even know what to feel.”

You aren’t sure how to reply. You have been pining for him for God-knows-long, but you can’t think clearly when he talks about his ex. You brought it up to begin with. You might as well say something. 

“Well,” you start slowly and tap your fingers on your right knee. “You guys lasted for a long time. I mean, I never had previous relationships, but based on my understanding from romance novels,” you hear him laugh—and it makes your heart clench at how melodic it sounds in the darkness. You like the sound of his laugh. It relaxes you. It feels like home. “First loves are hard to let go of. You grow familiar with them, ponder the future a little too much, love them more than you can ever love anyone else, and all that. Then, when they’re gone, a piece of you breaks as well,” you pause and glance up at him with a frown. “But don’t quote me on that, I never fell in love.”

“Is that what you learn from minoring in philosophy?” he spontaneously asks and uses his right hand to squeeze your cheeks together. “Because that sounds good. You can write a novel or something.”

“You’re just drunk,” you address and push yourself off of him. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

He goes quiet for a couple seconds and looks up at you. “Do you think it’ll go away?”

“What will?” you question and tug on his arm to stand up. 

“The heartbreak,” he responds immediately. “At least, based on your understanding from romance novels.”

You don’t know. You can’t even will yourself to stop crushing on him. It’s funny how he has broken your heart countless times, yet he is unaware of it. All he knows is that you are one of people he grew closer with during college. His sister’s best friend. A friend, that’s all. 

(He doesn’t love you like that.)

He waits. His eyes are gazed into yours, anticipating an answer from you. You want to blur him from your memory, wishing your feelings would go away immediately. He invades your mind at the brightest hours of dawn and proceeds to cloud your thoughts throughout the day. You wish he can be yours.

But you know he’s unattainable. You’d have to cross the whole galaxy to reach him. He holds stars in his eyes for someone who clearly isn’t you. 

 “Of course it will. It just takes time.”

[nextqueue]

Love and Volleyball

Genre(s): college!au, romance, slow burn, coming of age, friendship, drama, angst

Pairing: Johnny x OC black female (certain NCT members make appearances)

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Soraya is starting her first year of university in Chicago on a full ride volleyball scholarship. Her life hasn't been very eventful and a guy she meets one night is determined to change that.

[a/n]: This is my first fanfic! I plan to add more to this story if you guys like it so lemme know what you think. Thank you 🥰

~~~Soraya~~~

“Mom. Mommy. Mother. Female that pushed me out of her vagina!” My mother finally stops fawning over my belongings long enough to listen to me.

“I got it. I’ll finish decorating it later.” she gives me a withering look because she knows I’m lying.

“I’m still not moving until I meet your roommate so you can stop tryna get me ta leave.” rolling my eyes I examine the rest of the room liking the simple double room layout. 

Excited for my first year of college doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now. Finally all my hard work paid off. The four years of only studying and practicing in high school lead me here to this moment. Chicago State University became my dream college after a class field trip in my junior year, I fell in love with the city and the overall vibes it gave me. I didn’t have a specific school I wanted to attend, my mother did, but I knew I wanted to play some type of sport. When senior year came around and the scholarships started rolling in for all three of the sports I played I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know which school to pick let alone which sport.

The answer was made for me when a letter from Chicago State University came in. My mother wanted me to take the basketball scholarship to Duke but I had already made my mind up. 

A loud bang followed by multiple voices shouting brings me out of my reverence. Looking at my mom we move in sync to the door. Before we can even touch the knob the door bursts open and a tall asian girl all but falls in followed by four more bodies. 

“Oh! Hello! Sorry for the commotion.” addressing my mother and I in a heavily accented tongue. Japanese I presume from the conversation I hear from her family.

She is really beautiful, standing at like six feet two inches. Arms and legs long and muscular from what I can see under her clothes. Her hair is cute short in a pixie cut which accentuates her face well, bringing out her delicate features. Her face is small, lips full, eyes large and nose small and straight. When she smiles rows of perfectly brace aligned teeth flash at you.

The girl and her family drag in hella suitcases all the while talking over one another. I laugh at their dynamic while my mother looks offended at the intrusion. 

“Um...hello? Yeah, excuse me what are you all doing here?” shaking my head at what is to come I try to stop it before it does. 

“Oh, my name is Miyabi and I am on the volleyball team. This is the room I was given. We just came from the airport.” 

As my mother was fixing another round of probably intrusive questions I jump in. 

“Are you from Japan?” my curiosity winning out as usual.

“Yeah! How did you know?”

“Good guess.” 

The smile that over takes her face makes me smile as well. She introduces her family to my mother and I before starting to unpack. I have never seen a group of people move as fast or as efficiently as hers did within the span of 20 minutes. Her entire side of the room was cleaned and fully decorated, clothes placed neatly in her side of the closet, desk organised and bed made. My mom and I watched as they interacted with each other for the first ten then continued setting up my side. All we finished setting up was my desk and bed area. Finally convincing my mother to leave the rest for me to finish we head to the cafeteria with Miyabi and her family for some lunch. 

The campus is filled with new students moving in with their families much like Miyabi and myself. It’s nice to see so many different demographics of people in one place, a complete 180 of where I grew up. Montana is predominantly caucasian so I got used to being the only dark skinned kid, it became normal to me to be the odd one out. Now in a place like this where so many look like me I feel more out of place than I ever did in Montana. 

Miyabi’s family leaves to rest at their hotel before they leave tomorrow, each one of them crying over having to leave the other. Before they depart her mother takes my hands in hers and asks in broken English if I can look out for her. Not knowing what else to do I promise her I will.

My mother leaves a little while after, our goodbyes far less emotional. I make her promise to let me know when she arrives safely back home and she makes me promise to at least send a text once a day to let her know I’m still alive. The rest of the day Miyabi and I explore the campus and get to know each other.

She is a middle blocker and was personally recruited by the head coach. When she learns I am a wing spiker her shock is unrestrained. Being so used to this reaction I just laugh it off. Standing at only five feet eight inches I am more in line with being a librero than a wing spiker but my athleticism and vertical leap do more than make up for my lack of height.

We meet a few more of our teammates along the way and introduce ourselves. They tell us about a party being thrown at one of the frat houses tonight in celebration of new pledges, suggesting we come. They part ways with us when some guys from the basketball team come up to them. Never being much of a partier it takes Miyabi unleashing a potent dose of puppy dog eyes on me for me to agree to go. I also would feel terrible letting her go out her first night here alone although she does well interacting with others, I doubt she would have any trouble making friends. 

Heading back to our room we spend the next few hours unpacking and picking out our outfits for tonight. Both of us came here in very travel savvy fits consisting mainly of oversized shirts and sportswear. Summer hasn’t completely abandoned us yet so we both opt for lighter more summery clothing. Keeping my look simple I throw on a pair of high waisted mom jeans and a white tee tied in front with my old white Keds. Miyabi’s fit is a little more extravagant but suits her bubbly personality well. Black and white plaid schoolgirl skirt paired with a white skin tight faux turtleneck tucked into them and the sickest pair of white platform boots I have ever seen.

“I am so mad we don’t wear the same shoe size right now.” I gush at her as I salivate over her shoes. 

“I can send you the link of where I got 'em if you want.”

“Girl, please do cause those are everything.”

We both opt to keep our makeup light and soon we are making our way to the frat houses. Other people are walking in the same direction as us clearly having heard about the party as well. Soon enough loud music can be heard and flashing lights become visible, the amount of people we see increases also. A large group has formed around what looks to be a group of guys, pledges I’m assuming. Pushing our way to the front Miyabi and I watch the guys be put through a rough series of trials, from drinking water with a goldfish in it, to being forced to streak. Things like this never interested or entertained me so I tell Miyabi I am leaving to go check out the rest of the party, she grabs my arm telling me we go together everywhere. Agreeing with her we make our way into the house. The music is loudest there, people are everywhere and all over each other. Finding the kitchen quickly Miyabi drags me with her to find drinks for the both of us. When she offers me a Corona I decline. 

“No thank you sis. I don’t drink.” she nods and switches drinks to a Coca-Cola for me.

Taking the unopened can I thank her and we chat amongst ourselves until the girls we met earlier find us and drag us to the dance floor, the living room, where we spend the next hour dancing our lives away. I break away first to get water.

Finally making it to the kitchen through the mobs of people packed in one place I catch my breath. The only other person in the kitchen with me is a guy. He smiles softly at me when he notices me. He’s cute, well more than cute. Standing well over six feet he towers over me as he straightens up from looking in the fridge for something. Smiling back at him I put my locs up in a messy bun away from my neck as I crouch in front of the open fridge looking for bottles of water. 

“What are you looking for?” a voice startles me a little, peering around the fridge door I see the guy watching me closely.

The lighting in the kitchen is dim but enough for me to see just how beautiful he really is up close. Longish dark brown hair messily falling into his eyes, pretty down turned eyes, pretty brown down turned eyes that look sleepy hidden behind glasses. Round glasses that sit atop a gorgeously straight nose bridge. My hand itches to trace his features as I lay my eyes on his lips. A deep cupid’s bow, plump pink lips that upturn at the corners, the most striking part of his face to me besides his eyes. Clearing my throat to answer him I stand tucking the last loc away from my face.

“Bottled water.”

“Thought so. They are outside in the cooler out back.” gesturing for me to follow him he leads me through the house to the backyard where the setting seems more intimate. Couples holding to each other tightly and strangers finding comfort in deep conversation.

“Here you go.” he hands me a bottle of water. I thank him then go to sit on the steps of the deck we are on.

I don’t expect him to sit next to me and jump a little when he does. His large frame filling the rest of the space on the staircase.

“Johnny.” holding his hand out for me to shake he looks into my eyes. Looking from his eyes to his hand and back again I shake his hand lightly.

“Soraya.”

The smile that over takes his face makes me hold my breath. It is beautiful, adding a youthful effect to his overall look. His eyes crinkle up into slits and my heart skips a beat. 

“Nice to meet you Soraya.”

~~~Johnny~~~

She is beautiful, one Soraya. With her long black locs, mischievous feline eyes, high cheekbones, a cute upturned button nose and lips so large, pink and soft looking I find myself staring at them anytime she speaks. I remember seeing her in the cafeteria earlier today with who I assume is her mother and the tall girl she came to the party with. I couldn’t stop looking at her then just like now. She looked mean and unapproachable at first but the longer I watched her interact with everyone around her I realise she is so full of life that you can’t help but be drawn to her.

I watched her dance with her friend and some other random people that she welcomed to be in her presence. Deciding I was being a little too creepy I left to go hang in the  kitchen away from the girls trying to gain my attention and my friends getting wasted.

I never expected her to walk in, let alone by herself. Her skin glowed in the soft light of the kitchen. Little beads of sweat dotting her forehead. When she began fanning herself and tying her hair up I couldn’t look away. She crouched in front of the open fridge and I truly noticed all of her for the first time. Her body caught my whole attention. She is tall, not tall like her friend who clearly stands over six feet, but tall enough to be noticeable. Her arms and legs are long, her waist small, hips wide but not too wide and even though the pants she has on are kind of baggy you can tell her legs and ass are quite ample. She looks athletic and quite flexible. It’s not easy for people to squat into the crouched position she is in unless they have an Asian heritage or some sort of dance/gymnastics background. When I asked her what she was looking for I wasn’t prepared for what she sounded like.

There was a slight presence of an accent which made her deeper voice sound all the more sexy to me. I wanted her to keep talking to me somehow.

When she sat on the porch steps just watching everyone interact with each other my heart lurked in my chest. She looked so at peace but so lonely sitting there I couldn’t help myself when I sat next to her. I want to know everything about her.

“Nice to meet you Soraya.”

“Nice to meet you Johnny.” loving the way she says my name and the little smile that graces her lips. I throw all caution to the wind.

“Are you a freshman?” she doesn’t avoid my eyes as I ask her questions and that makes me nervous. Usually the average human can’t hold eye contact for more than a few seconds especially in this close of proximity. I like to hold eye contact with people because I feel a surge of power and excitement when they look away. She doesn’t waver though and I find myself fighting to keep hold of her gaze.

“I am.”

She has freckles and little moles all over her face and parts of her skin I can see. I want to count them all. I remember my mother telling me where you have moles is where your lover kissed you most in your past life. 

“Do you play a sport?”

“Volleyball.” 

“What position?”

“Wing Spiker.” her answer is surprising to say the least. I figure she would be a libero with her smaller size. One look at her face tells me she is used to this assumption.

“Your vertical must be ridiculous, makes sense though.”

Cocking her head at me she asks what I mean.

“Your legs. I can tell they are really powerful not to mention long. Your arms are really long too and your hands are huge.” She looks away from me for the first time since I sat next to her and I see her play with one of the rings she wears.

“What about you? Do you play a sport?”

“I used to my freshman year, I’m a junior by the way, then I got hurt.”

“What happened?” she looks back at me, her eyes holding concern and warmth.

“I blew out my knee last year. Now I just redshirt. I was never really into sports intensely anyways. It was just a way to pay for school.” 

“What sport did you play?” 

“Soccer.” 

“Really? My little brother plays, he’s really good.” 

The way her face lights up talking about someone she loves makes me feel funny. I want her to light up that way when talking about me. It’s been a while since I felt like this about anyone.

“How many siblings do you have?” 

“I have two younger brothers. Kyle and Andre. Seventeen and Thirteen. Andre just turned thirteen in August. Do you have any siblings?”

I want her to look at me this way for the rest of eternity. She holds stars in her eyes and has my heart in her hands already. 

“No, I’m an only child.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one. You I am assuming are eighteen.”

“I’ll be nineteen in a few weeks.” September. Her birthday is in September.

“Nice.” 

“What is your majour and what are you passionate about since sports ain’t it?” her question catches me off guard. She seems to have relaxed some.

“Music. I majour in music. I’m the DJ for the campus radio station also.”

Her eyes open wide at my revelation. The way she listens and takes in information is cute like it is the most amazing thing she has ever heard in her life. It’s honest. She can’t seem to hide her emotions well all being shown on her face.

“I’ll have to subscribe!” I chuckle at her excitement.

“What is your majour?” I tried to guess what she would be studying but the longer I talk with her the less I can grasp an idea. Maybe some sort of psychology, something to do with people.

“English majour with a minor in International Relations.” Yupp, would have never guessed that.

“Why those?”

“I’m not from America. I am from Barbados and have always loved to travel, to write and love learning languages.”

“Ahh, that makes sense now.”

“What makes sense?”

“The little accent I hear.” shock passes through her eyes.

“You can tell?”

“Yeah, only cause my parents are from South Korea and I grew up around accented English. I’ve always been able to tell no matter how slight it is. You say certain words differently.”

Nodding her head she starts speaking to me in Korean. I am so shocked I don’t hear a word of what she said.

“W-what?” Repeating what she said I am floored at her fluency.

“How do you know Korean?” 

“I told you I like learning languages.”

“Yeah, but Korean? That’s kind of random.” I laugh a little.

“Not really.” She goes on to tell me the story of how she came to speak Korean and I can’t help but like her more than I already do. 

“Have you ever been?” the way she speaks about the country you would swear she has been or is Korean herself.

“No, sadly I haven’t. I have plans to though. Have you?”

“Twice yeah. I was born here though, in Chicago.”

“How was it?”

Stars light up her eyes as she leans closer to me without realising in her excitement. She smells so good, not like the annoying fruity perfumes most women wear but something more earthy and deep. Under the lights from the house her skin looks even softer than before. Swallowing heavily I glance quickly at her lips. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Why does she affect me so badly?

“It was great, there is alot to do and it’s alot more diverse than you think in some places.”

She hangs onto every word that exits my mouth even leaning against my shoulder slightly as we trade stories late into the night. After talking for hours she suddenly jumps up.

“I have to go find Miyabi.”

“The girl you came with?” seeing her panic a little over her friend is cute. She leaves me sitting there as she all but sprints back into the house. Trailing after her I watch as her body relaxes visibly upon seeing her friend sitting in the living area playing a game of Never Have I Ever with a few other people.

“Soraya! There you are. Come play!” tugging Soraya down to sit next to her she declares the game restarted.

A few of my friends are in on the game as well so I decide to join.

“John where you been?” one of my best friends and teammates asks. He is sprawled out on a couch looking at peace with himself. Yuta’s eyes flit to Soraya momentarily then back to me raising an eyebrow. 

“Around.” is all I say sitting down next to my friend Taeyong.  

The game starts pretty mildly with innocent topics such as stealing or skipping class. Soraya still has all her fingers up and is quietly watching everyone around her lose fingers myself included.

When the questions made their way around to Yuta I could almost hear the trouble start.

“Never have I ever slept with more than three people in one night.” He looks directly at me daring me to lie. Glaring at him I begrudgingly lower another one of my fingers.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Soraya staring at my hands. Ashamed for once in my life I wish she didn’t have to see this side of me.

~~~Soraya~~~

More than three people in one night. Chuckling softly to myself I see him peep at me from the corner of his eye. The guy is funny, seeming so calm and collected all night but now I see as usual you can’t judge a book by its cover and humans are far more complex than they ever care to admit.

The questions continue and all my fingers stay spread. I realise my life has lacked any real excitement or adventure, this realisation makes me melancholy. At least I will win this game it seems. Everyone in the room has either folded all their fingers or on their last two or three. Miyabi has three fingers left. Johnny has two.

“Never have I ever stolen a friend's crush.” Johnny brings me out of my stupor with his question. Looking up at him I see him staring down the guy lounging on the couch.

Yuta I think his name is. A cheeky fellow with a serious expression and a lovely smile when he does use it. His appearance is kind of messy but in a very aesthetically pleasing way. Hair dyed a bright red and long, pulled back into a half updo bun. Yuta puts his last finger down with a smirk on his face. Looking between the two of them the tension is palpable.The moment passes and the game continues with everyone none the wiser. Finally it is my turn, I have only folded two fingers so far and for very minor things compared to what the others have done. Wanting this game to be over I choose a question everyone will most likely have to put a finger down for.

“Never have I kissed someone.”

As I thought everyone who was left put their finger down. I win the game. Johnny openly stares at my hands, an unreadable expression on his face. Miyabi yawns loudly declaring she is tired and ready to go to sleep. Checking the time on my phone I see it is well into the early morning hours. Excusing us I let Miyabi lean on me as I lead us out of the house and back to our dorm. The walk was longer than when we came with her full weight on me so I stop and help her up onto my back. Carrying her the rest of the way on my back we reach our place of residence quicker.

Dropping her onto her bed heavily and taking her shoes off I search through my things for makeup wipes to clear both our faces.

Tonight was an experience, my first real party that wasn’t a team dinner or school dance. The drinking, smoking, and general freeness of it all was not something I am used to. Talking to guys also was never on my radar but talking to Johnny wasn’t so nerve-wracking. He was intriguing and very honest in the way he speaks something I notice you don’t see very often these days. I wouldn’t mind talking to him again, finding out the story behind the apparent wild choices he made and the obvious tension between him and Yuta. 

Gently wiping the little bit of makeup from Miyabi’s face then applying some of my moisturising lotion just so her face wouldn’t be dry when she wakes up. Taking care of my skin I finally change and make my way into my bed.

Waking up I check the time, sighing when I see I haven’t been asleep for more than two hours. Insomnia is a bitch and she just keeps coming back. 

Rummaging through my backpack I pull out my diary, in times like these it’s the only thing that gives my mind peace. Writing has always been a safe place for me, when I would forego parties I would write about them. When I lost a game I would write that I had won as if the words scribbled onto paper or typed onto a document could change the past or predict the future. I write until Miyabi wakes up then we decide to go to the cafe for breakfast after we wash up.

It’s still early when we enter the cafe so not many people are present. Entering the line for breakfast, Miyabi and I chat about last night.

“No, but listen! He was so cute and charming. Yuta I think his name was and he is Japanese too from Osaka. I think he might be on the soccer team.” Yuta. That name…. I think it’s the name of the friend of Johnny’s from last night.

“We can go to a practice later if you would like.” 

“Can we really? I didn’t get a chance to talk to him long last night but…wait what about that guy you came in with before the game? He was cute and seemed into you.” she watches me with a twinkle in her eye, a hopeless romantic type, not what I would have pegged her for. Cute.

“Johnny. Yeah, he was nice.” 

“He seemed more than nice. All throughout the game he was watching you.”

“Mmmm.” 

“He seemed surprised when you ended the game with that question. I’m curious too, have you really never kissed anyone?”

~~~Johnny~~~

Waking up early for my morning run and exercise I can’t seem to get Soraya off my mind. Her innocence baffled me. When she implied she had never kissed anyone I wonder if that was the truth or if she just wanted the game to end? She looked tired so maybe that was it, she just wanted to go sleep and didn’t want to be rude. But what if?

Coffee. My body is screaming for coffee as I end my run, deciding to stop by the cafe. It’s empty, the few people in here don’t look like they have woken up fully yet. The coffee here is surprisingly good, not what I’m used to but tasty enough.

Scanning the cafe I see two girls looking a lot livelier than the rest. The shorter one looks familiar, it’s hard to make out her features without my glasses but it looks like Soraya. Her hair is covered by some sort of scarf and her clothes are extra baggy sweats. The coffee machine pings bringing me out of my stupor. 

You should go talk to her Johnny. Yeah. Yeah. Do that. It’s no big deal. She’s the same girl from last night right? Right. Let’s do this!

Making my way over to her I pause when I hear the conversation she is having with her friend. The same friend from last night.

“No, I wasn’t lying. I haven’t kissed anyone.” she chuckles a little then fills up her plate with more food.

“Seriously? Like ever? Never? Why?”

Yeah, why? I want to know why too.

“It just never came up or was a priority of mine.” I am sure my face looks stupid right now. 

“Wait does that mean you have never had a boyfriend?”

Surely she had to have had a boyfriend. What man or even an adolescent boy would see her and not want to date her? In the daylight she is even more mesmerising. She looks warm in her oversized grey hoodie and matching grey sweat shorts. The scarf hiding her locs is a pretty golden yellow. The starkness of the colour against her skin is gorgeous. The way she stands like she is the most important person in the room is quite attractive as well.

“Correct. I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

Coughing from shock I alert the two women to my presence.

“Oh! Johnny right?” her friend addresses me first.

“Hey. Morning.” I wave at them. Wave? Come on John.

“Morning Johnny.” the smile that falls on her lips makes my heart stutter. Dimples. Fucking dimples. Of course she has to have dimples.

“Morning Soraya.” 

~~~Soraya~~~

My goodness he looks so good. Like he just came from working out or something. His hair pushed back with a sportsband. The shirt he wears is black and sleeveless, giving me an unobstructed view of his arms and damn it if they look amazing. His joggers are black as well but fit him so perfectly I wonder if they were specifically tailored for him. My eyes travel up from his feet to his eyes. Those eyes. Like freshly made honey straight from the comb of the most hardworking bees. 

“Are you here for breakfast?” Miyabi breaks the ice once again. Her bright personality proving to be a joy to have around. 

“Uh, yeah.” he grabs a plate and begins adding food to it.

Watching him fills me with a sense of warmth.

“Come eat with us.” the words leave my mouth before I can stop them. He looks surprised but nods and finishes piling food on his plate. He follows us to a table near the windows.

We eat in silence for the most part each one of us taking turns to make polite conversation with one another. Miyabi finishes eating first then leaves claiming she has something to do but as I watch her leave she has a shit-eating grin on her face and is making obscene motions behind Johnny’s back. Rolling my eyes I focus on the gorgeous man in front of me. The sun is hitting one side of his face just right, highlighting his sharp features and bringing out the lighter tones of his eyes. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” I blink a few times not sure what I heard.

“Huh?” smooth as sandpaper Raya.

He smiles softly and repeats the question.

“Violet.”

“Violet? Isn’t-” cutting him off with a hand before he can even finish that statement I go off on a tangent about the differences in the colours Violet and Purple, going so far as to pull up a chart on my phone.

“You get that alot I see.” he laughs like a teleprompter wrote it out and I find it so endearing.

“Yeah. Only artists seem to understand what I mean.”

“You should meet my friend Taeyong then, the shorter guy I was sitting next to at the party. He is an Arts majour.” 

“I would love to!”

“Give me your number and we can all hang some time then.” smooth Mr. Johnny. Real smooth. Don’t think I didn’t see what you did there sir.

I give him my number because truthfully I was looking for a way to ask him for his as well, he just beat me to it. Talking some more I learn quite a bit about this man. As more people fill the cafe the quiet almost magical bubble we had for ourselves pops. Figuring there is no point in dragging this on I make up an excuse to leave.

“So, can I text you sometime?” standing outside the building to the cafeteria I get shy as I watch literally everyone that passes us stare at our interaction.

“If you would like. I must warn you though, I’m terrible at replying unless I deem you important or entertaining in my life.” he smiles at my words and says he will just have to become both before he leaves.

Watching him jog away I can’t help but fawn over him. I didn’t come here to this school to date but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to try it out.

[tuancore]

Lost You (Part 11) :

Starring- Jinyoung x reader

Genre- Angst

Summary- It's your choices and actions which made you miserable.

Standing outside your apartment's door, you examined the door briefly, every single line and curve, remembering the time when you both first moved to this apartment after coming to Seoul, everything flashing before your eyes, rethinking your each and every decision in life. When you first came to Seoul, you felt like an outcast but with Jinyoung by your side, you had that hope of everything going to be alright, can't believe that same Jinyoung became so unfamiliar to you. Twisting the doorknob, you stepped in, just like the first time you entered with him.

Your eyes were covered with a velvety blindfold, you felt like stumbling every now and then in your heels, not knowing where he was actually taking you. He took you by surprise by picking you up in his arms, your hand naturally flying behind his shoulders. He chuckled seeing that terrified expression on your face, "Easy, angel I'm not going to drop you".

"Jinyoung, I swear if you're taking me to some horror house, you know how horrible they are" But he didn't reply you but kept on chuckling, making your stomach churn with anticipation. A ding sound, perked your ears, it was an elevator. He stepped out of it walking for awhile and then stopping again, "Angel,I found the best place for us, exactly what we were looking for", stepping in he gently placed you on your feet, slipping your blindfold.

"Welcome to our home" He grinned, seeing your shocked reaction. You gasped seeing all the showpieces and furnitures, all were exactly the same what you used to always discuss with him. You faced him with tears of joy in your eyes, smiling adoringly at him, "Everything....is exactly the same...". He nodded, hugging you gently while you melted in his arms,"You're such a crybaby..." Wiping your tears he cupped your face with both of his hands,staring into your eyes, he said,"I promise you angel, as long as I am with you I won't let you shed a single drop of tear. And that I'll keep you forever happy and safe in my arms".

The truth is promises are meant to be broken. You always heard that but never believed it until today. All of his words were nothing but sugar coated sweet talks, none of his promise were meant to keep. Dragging your feet to the middle of the living room, you stared at the large couch, it was Jinyoung's decision to keep it there so that you both could cuddle and watch movies on Sundays in each other's arms.

What was that for if he couldn't trust you enough?

Your gaze shifted towards the wall in the front, which at this point looked like some stalker's wall. Jinyoung out of many of his hobbies he was very much passionate for photography as well, and his all time favourite muse was you. You remember, how he used to budge you night and day to pose for him, most of the time you obliged which made him always run after you with a camera. After some time you got irritated, of his constant clicking, so you strictly ordered him to not to click your pics.

"Okay Okay! I won't ask you anymore to pose for me" He rose his hands in surrender, seeing a huge pout on your face.

He loved clicking your pics but it got irritating for you, since you wanted to enjoy moments with him without phones and cameras while he wanted to capture all the moments to reminisce about. So he found another way to keep on clicking your pics rather asking you to pose for him, he took your candid shots, whenever you fell asleep, or when you watered the plants, or when you cooked, when you jammed to your favorite songs, when you read books, or whenever you did some work on your laptop. He just loved you and only you. The wall was wall less and your face in frames more.

What was that for if he couldn't love you enough?

Out of so many pictures one was your favourite, subconsciously you walked closer to the frame taking out from the wall, caressing the image ever so lightly. It was a photo which was a candid shot clicked by JB, when you all went to the Disneyland in LA while visiting Mark's parents there.

"Why are you grinning like that?" Mark asked seeing your stupid grin, but failed to noticed two cones of ice cream in your hands. So you extended your hands showing him the cones, "My favourite ice cream!".

"Two cones? Each with five scoops?" Jackson commented not believing your childishness, "Ten scoops, are you even a girl?". Glaring at him you muttered 'idiot',"Of course I'm a girl that's why I love ice cream".

"More than Jinyoung?" Youngjae asked, teasing you on purpose. "Obviously!", You tilted the heads of both the cones forming a triangle as they the topmost scoops touched eachother, others mouthing an 'Ugh'. Your sparkly eyes became crescent happily biting on the scoops at once, when all of a sudden Jinyoung appeared out of nowhere back hugging you, his mouth on top of your head making it look as if he was about to bite you. Thats when JB clicked it. It was such an adorable picture and your favourite as well.

Someone really has said the truth, that only pictures last forever. Gripping the huge photogframe harshly in your hands, you threw it with a sudden force making it land at the corner of the room with a loud shattering noise. Everything was already over, so what was the need to keep reminiscing over such petty things.

___________

"Youngjae-ah.....Why?....." Jinyoung whispered in disbelief holding onto Youngjae's shoulder, he couldn't believe that Youngjae whom he thought of his smaller brother would hurt him in the most cruel way possible.

"It's not only Youngjae hyung but your so called friend Jisoo too" BamBam hissed, at the thought of Jisoo. Jinyoung snapped at BamBam with shock, another hard punch in his gut, "What are you saying?....".

"Yes, Youngjae and Jisoo were the ones playing you, noona and Jackson hyung like a puppet without any of your knowledge and if you think I'm lying then why don't you ask Youngjae hyung yourself" BamBam concluded with a stern face. Jinyoung turned around facing Youngjae with a furious eyes.

"Why the fuck would you do this to us?! Why Youngjae!?! Why!!" Jinyoung snarled gritting his teeth, his hands wrapped around Youngjae's throat almost cutting his oxygen, Mark and Jackson pulled him from Youngjae while he coughed his lungs out, his own tears spilling out.

"Because I love her....I always have....It hurt everytime I saw her in your arms smiling and giggling, I—.....I felt that it could've been me instead of you whom she loved more than her life.....and to protect my heart from bleeding anymore. I seperated you both" Youngjae's explanation made everyone beyond shocked. They all never thought the reason behind it was another complication.

"The fuck did you say Youngjae!!" Jinyoung growled breaking from Jackson's and Mark's grasp, landing a harsh punch on Youngjae's face which made him fall on the couch behind him, Jinyoung hovered over him punching him a few more times.

"Stop It Jinyoung! Stop it!!" Jaebeom and Mark shouted trying to get him to stop but he was too mad to pay attention to those words, when Youngjae pushed Jinyoung from him throwing a punch at his face, with blood gushing out of his own nose.

"STOP IT! JINYOUNG, STOP IT! CHOI YOUNGJAE!".

Youngjae got up on his feet, wiping the blood spurting out of his nose from his hoodie's sleeves, his cheeks also scraped from Jinyoung's hard punches.

"Since when?" Jackson asked sternly, glaring at him. Youngjae smiled at the mere thought of you, continuing, "Since University, she was my senior. I fell in love with her over time, she was not only gorgeous but kind as well. She saved me from getting bullied almost for an year and after that everyone stopped bullying me, how could I just not fall for her? I planned to confess her but Jinyoung hyung beat me to it! And my heart shattered when she accepted his love, I was broken......".

"Bullshit! You never told me that you were getting bullied back then!Plus she never told me" Jinyoung asserted. "I was! But whenever I was with you all I saw was you drowning in stress to get your master's degree and your father's constant ranting, so I kept quiet!".

"She never told you because I asked her to promise me to not to let you know about me getting bullied otherwise you'll get another reason to stress over and I didn't want you to!"Youngjae informed with his fists clenched in rage, "When she finally became your girlfriend, I thought of moving on so I tried dating but hell not a single girl I've been with could compare to her, I tried hard to convince myself that she belonged to you, she loves you but no my heart wouldn't listen.....it continued to ache for her, how could I just throw away the love which I had for her for past five years!".

With that Youngjae began to untangle all the strings, how he saw Jisoo working for Jinyoung, and from the way she looked at his with those heart eyes was enough to tell that she was in love with him, so he proposed the idea to Jisoo while as accepted it without any second thoughts. All they were waiting was for a right time and a perfect plan, and they got that exact opportunity when he saw you and Jackson meeting frequently without Jinyoung in range.

Coming to those photographs, he didn't had to do much at all, he simply clicked the pictures of Jackson's bedroom with every minor details, and technology gave him the exact environment Jackson's room had, but the real problem was in finding a boy who had same physique as that of Jackson and vice versa for the girl, so that your faces could be photoshoped accordingly, but that stupid girl forgot to hide her streaked hair.

"If you loved noona so much then why did you slut shame her like this?" Yugyeom snapped. "Jinyoung hyung was always insecure of the boys around her, so I kicked him on his weak spot. I couldn't believe when he believed in those fake photographs more than his own girl, I guess he really didn't deserve her".

"Youngjae......it's not love, it's obsession. Love is when you let the person you love just be happy, you completely shattered her! Jisoo and you both hurt the persons you loved! If you really loved her your heart would've ripped out everytime she suffered! It's not love Youngjae-ah, it's your obsession,it can't be love, it's not love........it's not......." JB croaked out choking on his own tears.

"After what you've done to her, Do you think she'll ever come to you? Do you?" Mark belted angrily. "She won't come to me but atleast she won't go to him either" Youngjae hollered with a sick grin, "And that's enough for me. If she can't be mine then she won't be his either".

"Youngjae fucking get out before we really do something to you which we'll regret for eternity!" JB yelled, motioning towards the door, shooting a last smirking gaze towards Jinyoung, he left without a protest.

Jinyoung dropped to his knees, feeling all the pain you felt through these days, all the tears you've shed for the pain he has given you. Small painful whimpers escaping his lips, everyone watched him crying.

"As much as I want to sympathise with you.....I can't, it's you who have brought this upon yourself" JB commented with a poker face eventhough his heart ached for Jinyoung. JB's remark send him further into the pit of guilt and remorse.

"Please..... forgive me......please....." Jinyoung stammered out sobbing hard, "I'm sorry.....I'm so so sorry", he just kept on pleading to the others, even when they were hurting seeing him before their eyes they were well aware that sooner or later this day will come, and Jinyoung will regret his each and every deed.

"You are sorry? You should be sorry. After whatever you've done to her, Do you think you deserve forgiveness?" Jackson crouched down beside him, his words hitting Jinyoung's heart like a dagger.

"Jackson.....I'm sorry......please forgive me. I was so wrong" He cried hugging Jackson, even if he wanted to hate Jinyoung, he couldn't Jinyoung was not only his friend but more of a brother. Unable to control his tears, Jackson sobbed hugging Jinyoung tightly letting him cry on his shoulder.

"Jinyoung hyung.....at some point we all can forgive you but the question is, Will Noona forgive you?" Yugyeom countered in a mere whisper. Jinyoung clutched onto Jackson's shirt, mumbling a quiet "No....".

"How am I supposed to apologise to her?" Jinyoung stared at Jackson for some assurance but found none, "I....I called my angel.....a slut.....how can I? I am such a monster, I even slapped her......when all she did was telling me the truth.....I hurt her, My angel begged me on her knees still I accused her of something so horrible. How can I be so heartless?....... Jackson, I—I made her feel so inferior......" Jinyoung gulped the knot forming in his throat as realisation hit him, facing BamBam he stammered, "BamBam....you said she is pregnant..... I—I despised my own child....our child.....How monstrous was I to hurt her this bad!!......".

By now everyone's eyes gleamed with tears, it was surely painful for him, but it wasn't anything compared to yours. Jinyoung has completely robbed you of your happiness, your everything, he tossed you away like you never meant anything to him while you continued to prove your innocence stepping on your self respect, self esteem. To be honest, he didn't deserve any forgiveness at all.

"Even if everything was set up by Youngjae and Jisoo, the way the things have degraded to, wouldn't have if you.....you" BamBam pointed out his finger at Jinyoung, "If you had faith on Noona, even a tiny bit, none of this would be happening right now. Instead of you crying here and she there, you both would be laughing and smiling in each other's arms........Loving eachother, accept it or not but you never trusted her enough. The way she was hurt, when you chose Jisoo over her......Gosh I can never forget the look in her eyes, She looked dead......so dead!".

Yugyeom patted BamBam's back with an attempt to calm him down, Yugyeom continued, "You can only pray for noona to forgive you. Everything is in her hands now".

The intense air subsided around everyone as BamBam's phone rang, answering the call immediately, he whispered, "Hello...".

The words from the other end broke BamBam to his soul, the phone slipped through his hands as he stared at Jinyoung completely emotionless.

"Noona had.....she had.....a miscarriage".

Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12

Note: I'm not editing the drafts before posting them, so if you guys spot any errors, please let it slide, thank you so much ~~~

_______________________________________

[just-random-imagines]

It’s Ok

IMAGINE: Dating someone can get a little hard when someone doesn’t like your boyfriend. But you and Bucky can get through it, right?  WORD COUNT: 3.6k  WARNINGS: Trauma, a little cliché but hey you’re a teenager in most of this

"What the hell is wrong with you dad?" You spit at your father. "Bucky was hoping he could come over to the house one fucking time and have a civil conversation, and you had to ruin it!"

"I don't like that boy." He responded, crossing his arms as he glares at you.

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CARE? I LIKE HIM! HE MAKES ME HAPPY!" You retort angrily, quickly glancing out the window. You watched the dust continue to settle where Bucky had driven away.

"Hello, sir." Bucky greets your father, straightening himself the moment he saw the older man as walks into the house.

"Barnes..."

At that moment, you walk out of the kitchen. "Hiya, dad." You say nervously. He wasn't due home for another thirty minutes. He had caught you in the middle of preparing an enjoyable meal for the three of you.

"What's going on here?" He asked, zeroing in on your boyfriend.

As Bucky struggles for an answer, you step in. "We're making (Favorite Dish)."

"Why?"

"Well sir," Bucky begins. "Y/N thought it'd be a swell idea to throw a dinner and just have a friendly conversation."

Your father walks past the both of you, stepping into the kitchen and taking in the food being prepared. You and Bucky approach him nervously.

"I suppose."

Long story short, the dinner didn't go as you thought it would.

Your dad kept asking embarrassing questions, then bringing something up from Bucky's past. It was hard not to scold your father. Whenever Bucky got irritated or embarrassed by a certain subject, he'd reach for your hand underneath the table and grip it.

This happened a lot.

Bucky left quickly after the food was gone, giving you a small kiss on the cheek before leaving in his dusty old pickup truck Steve's parents lent him before they died.

"You didn't have to be so rude." You whisper once you finally calm down. "You know how Bucky is with his father and the army. Why did you have to bring it up?"

"Because a true man can handle the harsher things in life."

"You're just saying that because you want him to feel weak!"

Growing tired of this never-ending fight, your father shut it down. "Enough! I don't want to hear another word about that Barnes boy. I expect you to end things with him. He's a troublemaker." And that was that.

Or so your father thought.

You and Bucky would always meet up in town, spending the day together before you'd go your separate ways. Your father would get suspicious, but you'd come up with the cleverest lies and convince him otherwise. It wasn't until Bucky's twentieth birthday, several months after the dinner; your father finally connected the dots.

He dragged you over to Steve's apartment where Bucky was staying, hell bent on kicking his ass. You and Steve tried stopping them, but it was useless. Like beating a sumo wrestler with a twig kind of useless. It wasn't until Bucky showed your father an application to join the army. It stopped him from attacking Bucky, but terminating your relationship with him.

It was hard for you to see him after that. He had already finished high-school, and it left you finishing senior year by yourself. Your father was strict with your rules about seeing Bucky, but he let it slide when it was time for him to go.

He had gotten accepted and now it was time for him and his squadron to be shipped out. Your father, out of what little kindness he had left in his heart, allowed you to say goodbye. It was hard letting him go. You broke down in silent tears the moment you took in his sharp uniform.

-

"Hey, doll." He smiled sadly; drinking in the sight of you. He didn't know when it would be the next time he'd see you again.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask him, grabbing his shoulders. "Is it for the money? Why? Why are you leaving me?"

Bucky gently removes your hands and holds them against his chest. "Y/N, baby. I ain't doing this for the money." He brings his lips against yours and kisses you sweetly.

"I'm doing this so I can prove to you, and your father that I can make something of myself. That I can be that guy who made a difference. That one guy who isn't labeled a troublemaker or a brainless oaf." He squeezes your hands encouragingly. "By the time I come back, I can prove to everyone here in this small little place, I can be the good guy. I can be the one to take care of you."

"But you don't need to do this!" You tell him, pulling your hands away to wipe your tears. "If anyone can't see how amazing you are, they can go screw themselves. I love you for the sweet man you are. You don't need to join the damn army to prove shit!"

"Y/N..." Bucky watches as you grow quiet. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close.

"I don't want to lose you out there," you mumble into his chest, most likely staining his uniform with your tears.

"I'll make sure he doesn't die out there," someone beside you says.

"Steve?" You say, lifting your head from Bucky's torso. "You're going with him?"

The short blonde smiles gently, watching as you pull away from Bucky to give him a hug. "Who's better than me to keep him out of trouble?"

"That's my line," Bucky says, drawing you into one last embrace. Your dad watches from afar as you two kiss goodbye.

-

Everything was all right at first. Every Friday, you would receive a letter from Bucky (And Steve!) talking about what had happened in the past week, not forgetting to mention how much he had missed you.

With the occasional joke here and there, he would always express his love for you in simple poetry. Then you would quickly send your own letter, equally expressing the love you shared and reminisced about the memories the two of you had.

For six months, things had gone smoothly. Then the letters slowly stop. For weeks on end, you wouldn't get a single letter. And when you did, it was quick and to the point.

Bucky and Steve had to go somewhere, and they couldn't send as many letters as they wanted to. Buck continued to say he loved you with all his heart, and he couldn't wait to come back home.

Weeks of silence had turned into months. It broke your heart to come home from school on Friday and receive no letters. Prom came around and you ended up going with your cousin, not wanting to ruin your relationship with Bucky just to have a romantic prom night. Graduation follows shortly after, and it saddens you to think you can't celebrate with James.

It's horrible. But then it happens.

Around the third week of college, almost three years after Bucky left, you came home to your father speaking with someone on your front porch. The soldier quickly spotted you approaching and ceased his conversation.

"Y/N?" The stranger questioned.

"Yes?"

"It's me!" The man carefully takes off his service cap and tucks it underneath his arm. "It's Steve!"

Warily glancing at the tall blonde, you think of ways to yell at him for being an asshole until you look into his eyes. The same blue beauties that belonged to your best friend.

"STEVE!" You're quick to engulf him in a hug but quickly retract. Blood roars in your ears as you become excited. If Steve was here, that meant Bucky was too.

"Where's James? I know he's hiding around here somewhere. If this is a ruse to scare me, I'll kick your ass, Rogers."

After looking around, you finally look to Steve, who at the moment doesn't look so excited. "Steve...?" Then you think of every horrible way a person could die in a war. None ease your worried mind as you ask your friend a single question.

"Is Bucky... Dead, Steve?" The gentle giant shakes his head but doesn't lose the solemn expression.

"No."

Your worry turns into confusion. "So where the hell is he?"

Your father, who you had forgotten about at the moment, spoke up. "We think it'd be easier to just show you..."

-

You stare through a large window. On one side, you stand with Steve and your father. On the other, a nurse hovers over a limp body lying in the hospital bed. She checks the respiratory ventilator and the tubes that go along with it. Once she finds everything in its place, she adjusts his IV line and leaves.

Walking out of the door, she catches your eye and gives you a sad look. It lasts only a moment until she leaves, but you know what just happened. She's seen this before. And it rarely ends well.

"How long has it been?" You ask quietly, returning your gaze to Bucky's figure.

"About a week." Steve replies, observing you. Your body tenses up as you close your eyes.

"What. Happened. To. Him?"

He explains how he and Bucky were traveling through Germany to pick up their mark holding government secrets when the train they were riding was shot at. Bucky had fallen out as he and the rest of the men started shooting back.

"It was a long fall." Steve choked out, letting out a few tears himself. "When the gunfire had stopped, we went looking for him. He lost a lot of blood when we found him."

Your shoulders steadily rise up and down as you attempt to stifle your cries. Your dad sees this and goes to comfort you. Just as his hand reaches your arm, you snap.

"YOU DID THIS! THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU MADE THIS HAPPEN!"

Both of the men look shocked as you yell. Hospital staff glances at the three of you but don't make a move to stop it. They've all witnessed it before.

You bring your hands down on your father's chest, weakly beating him. "HE WOULDN'T HAVE LEFT IF YOU HADN'T PUSHED HIM TO DO IT!" Steve has to pull you away, but you don't put up a fight. The moment he grabs you, all the fight leaves.

"I'll take them home, Mr. L/N," Steve promises, pulling you into Bucky's room. Your father soon leaves, taking a quick glance at you before scurrying over to Buck before leaving. Maybe it was his fault.  

You don't notice him leave. Your only concern was Bucky.

You note the thin, straw-like tubes sticking out of his nose connecting and watch as his chest slowly moves up and down. You note the differences from when you last saw Buck.

His hair was longer and much stringier than before. He wore a trimmed five o'clock shadow that suited him nicely. He had a few light scars across his cheeks, but none that ruined his look. Gently running your fingers through his hair, your arm brushes against the left side of his body.

Something feels off. "What else happened to him?" You whimper.

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose and approaches his friend. His arm brushes against yours as he reaches for the edge of the blanket. He hesitates for a moment, before pulling the thin material back.

The lights shine off it for a second, blinding you momentarily. "What the...?" The metal prosthesis replacing his arm glints underneath the weak lighting. A red star painted on his shoulder. It matches its peer perfectly.

"He lost it in the fall."

The tears fall like rain as you reach out for Bucky. Steve rubs your back, but it doesn't calm you down much. Only James could help you relax. Finding your tears had somewhat subsided, you grab your boyfriend's flesh hand and squeeze it tight.

"Do they know when he'll wake up?" You croak, your voice scratchy from all your crying.

"Doctors say because of the blood he lost and the stress they put him through, it'll be four weeks at the most." You glance at Steve, showing him your red eyes before focusing on Bucky.

"I'll wait for you."

-

Turns out, you didn't have to wait long. Around a week after receiving word that Buck was in the hospital, he woke up. And you were right beside him when it happened.

The doctors allowed you to stay the past few nights while he recovered. Steve visited every morning and evening to bring fresh clothes and make sure you ate properly. The nurses greeted you in the afternoon as they changed the bedpan and checked his vitals.

While waiting for him to stir, you would talk about what happened. You knew things had changed with both Steve and Bucky.

They differed from the reckless young adults you originally knew them as. Steve was obviously bigger and taller than before, and Buck was more physically defined.

"They gave me a series of experimental drugs," Steve told you on the third day. "One doctor there took a liking to me and convinced the commander to 'work' on me. He gave me this special cocktail that he made from an assortment of chemicals and it changed me."

"What about Buck? Wouldn't you guys have given him a regular prosthetic? Why a metal one?" Steve watched as you played with Bucky's metal fingers, rubbing the cool knuckles as you watched him sleep.

"It wasn't actually us who found him first." He explained. "The Russians got him, patched him up. Hence the red star. We got him back by trading a prisoner we caught that was involved in one of our previous assignments."

You couldn’t imagine the pain he must have gone through. All alone with the enemy, spending his days behind enemy lines getting tortured. At least he was home, safe from the danger.

“It’s ok now,” you whispered, gently pressing a kiss to the prosthetic palm. “You’re gonna be ok.”

-

When he finally awoke, you weren't exactly prepared. Neither was he.

Bucky woke up gasping, unable to breathe. His lungs felt like they were on fire! He had been having a nightmare; he was falling from a great height. When he landed, these people found him and started experimenting on him.

They poked and prodded at him with knives and such. So much pain, so much screaming.

Falling back onto the bed, he drank in his surroundings. The smell of lemon disinfectant, the sight of colorless food, the feel of a paper gown. Bucky knew exactly where he was. Just to make sure, he glanced at his arm. The metal limb proved his theory.

"It's not a dream..." He muttered, closing his eyes. As he started reaching for the assist button, he finally noticed you, sleeping in a chair resting in the corner. "Hey, there doll." He called out softly.  

You stir, but don't make an intention to get up. "Get up doll." He says louder. This time, you open an eyelid. At first, you don't react. You calmly close your eyelid before you quickly reopen both your eyes.

"BUCKY!" You shout happily, jumping up from the chair. The soldier braces himself for impact.

Your arms are quick to wrap around his neck as you pepper his face with kisses. He stops the attack by grabbing your hands in his own and squeezing them gently.

You're slightly surprised he can move his prosthetic arm like his original, but you don't think about it too much. "Calm down. I'm right here. I'm with you." The shock turns into happiness as you cry.

"You're here, you're actually here!"

"I am," Bucky responds, softly running his thumbs across the back of your hands. He removes one to cup your cheek. "You got more beautiful than the last time I saw you." His grin somehow stretches wider as you blush. "How the hell did you do that?"

"You're imagining shit, Barnes."

Bucky's large brown eyes take in your worn face, and he worries. Then he calmly slides over in his bed, mindful of all the wires and tubing, and pats the cleared area.

"Lay down with me, darling?" Bucky asks politely.

The way he asks and the sudden urge to sleep overcomes you, you can't say no. He lets go of you, allowing you to climb in next to him. His arms are quick to ensnare you once more, pulling you into this warm sanctuary.

"Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. Then we can talk."

"You sure?"

The long-haired brunette smiles down at you gently, softly kissing your forehead. "I promise. I ain't leaving again for a long time."

-

The hospital was reluctant on letting Bucky go after a week of him waking up. Both of you had a sneaking suspicion they wanted to check out his new arm, but you luckily got him out of there.

Against the wishes of your father, you had started seeing Bucky again. It differed from before, I should add. He wasn't the same solo rebel you had grown to love.

He was more self-conscious about his figure now, always wearing jackets even when it was warm out. But his caring attitude stayed the same. Buck still loved you with all his heart. Your father still had a hard time accepting this.

You had moved out of the house a couple months after Bucky woke up, and the two of you bought an apartment together. To celebrate, your father had invited you over to have a nice dinner. After being convinced by Bucky, you had accepted.

The dinner started off smoothly. Then you excused yourself to go to the restroom. After washing your hands, you reached for a towel, only to find there was nothing. Not wanting to ruin your new shirt, you carefully leave the bathroom to grab a dish towel from the kitchen. To get over there, you needed to pass through the dining room.

As you approach, you suddenly hear your father speaking in a hushed tone.

"The game's up, Barnes. You're back home now. You don't have to put on a show anymore."

"It's not a show, sir," your boyfriend replied truthfully. "I love them."

"So why are you here then?" Your father demands. "If you love them so much, what are you trying to prove? Why do you need to seem like you're this perfect boyfriend?"

"Because I left them!" Bucky seemed to shout in a hushed voice. His voice drops to a harmless whisper: it's so soft you have to strain your ears just to hear.

"I left them all alone. I made Y/N suffer through hell and back because of a decision I made. I left so I could seem like a better man to you, but apparently it didn't!" He exclaimed quietly, not wanting you to hear.

"But thank God Y/N was still here for me. I honestly thought they would get fed up after waiting years for me, but they didn't; unlike you, they had faith that I was coming back to them, dead or alive. So now I'm done trying to please you, to stand up to your ridiculous standards. I thought me appreciating your child would be enough for you, making them happy, was enough, but apparently not."

His speech immediately gets you all riled up; there's an urge to yell in your dad's face. You hear a fork clinking against a plate before your father clears his throat. The action makes you wait.

"So you'd do anything to keep my little (Nickname) safe?" He asks Bucky seriously, clasping his hands together. Unbeknownst to you, Bucky was staring your father straight in the eye, clenching his own hands.

"Sir, I don't think you understood me at all." He looks to the direction of the bathroom before looking back at your dad. "I'd die if that's what Y/N wanted me to do. If it made them happy, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

There's silence until it's broken.

"Then I guess you can continue the relationship with my blessing."

It's then where you make yourself known. "Hi, guys!" You say cheerfully, pretending you hadn't eavesdropped on their conversation.

"What'd I miss?" You continue taking your seat next to Bucky. He smiles as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. He quickly presses a kiss against your lips before looking to your dad.

They share a look. "Nothing much, darling."

You never ask about the conversation, figuring it was none of your business. But honestly, it didn't matter. Your father finally accepted Bucky, Bucky loved you, and you were all happy.

It didn't matter what other people thought about the two of you anymore. Bucky was safe at home with you. That's the way it was meant to be.

[allsassnoclass]

you could bring down my level of concern

Michael is having a bad night.  Ashton picks him up for ice cream

read on ao3

It’s just after one in the morning, and Michael doesn’t trust his ability to keep it together.  He’s felt like his skin has been pressed too tightly the entire day, and that was before he realized that there’s an entire book he was supposed to read for his contemporary literature class, sitting untouched on his dresser.  He’s got so many tabs open on his computer of assignments that he needs to finish, and he keeps forgetting that he has to email the financial aid office or he’s going to get a late fee on his bills but he can’t exactly email them now at one in the morning because they’re going to think he can’t get his life together on top of being an idiot for forgetting for so long.  He’s been restlessly switching between different social media platforms and opening up Netflix only to close it again when nothing seems to fit, steadfastly ignoring the book, the articles he’s supposed to read with it, and all of the other homework for his music classes.

Shit. He didn’t practice today, and his professor is going to be able to tell when he has his lesson tomorrow.

Michael shifts and unlocks his phone again, but nothing has changed in the three seconds he’s been gone.  He stares at his home screen for a moment, a picture of him and Ashton from before they got back to campus this year, smiles wide and tucked close together.

He saw Ashton two days ago, but he hasn’t really seen him for at least two weeks.  With the new university policies, they’re not allowed to hang out in Ashton’s dorm room or Michael’s apartment anymore, nor be outside together without masks.  This wouldn’t be such a big deal if they both were off campus and could sneak around, but Ashton is an RA.  He’ll get immediately fired if they get caught, and if he somehow does manage to get the virus his entire floor will be put into official quarantine.  It’s not just them who are at risk, and Ashton is too much of a bleeding heart to put all of his residents through that.

As such, Michael has eaten lunch outside with Ashton and facetimed him and spent a lot of time cuddled up to Calum to make up for the fact that he’s technically not allowed to touch Ashton (although no one has noticed them holding hands across the table, or a quick hug before they part for classes).

It’s getting chillier.  When snow starts to fall, Ashton is going to need to concede to hanging out in Michael and Calum’s apartment, because they’re both going to go crazy without it.

Michael already feels like he’s going crazy.  He has assignments and his dishes are dirty and he has no money and everything absolutely sucks and he misses his boyfriend, so he pulls out his phone and sends can you pick me up.

After a moment, he adds please.

Ashton could be asleep already, because he’s been trying really hard to seem well-adjusted for his senior year, and the thought makes panic bubble uncomfortably in Michael’s gut.  He can’t get himself to start his tasks, and he can’t stop picking at his cuticles, a bad habit that everyone has been trying to help him break, and he’s been missing Ashton vaguely since they got back on campus but thinks he’s going to cry if he doesn’t get to see him tonight.

What if Ashton doesn’t want to see him?

Ashton wants you around, Michael says to himself, trying to remember everything his therapist has told him for when he feels like this.  Just because outside circumstances are making it difficult doesn’t mean that he suddenly hates you.

His internal voice doesn’t sound very convincing.  With the way everything has been going lately, Michael wouldn’t be surprised if Ashton suddenly dumped him and Calum moved out and Luke and the girls stopped talking to him so he was miserable and alone.  That’s just about the only way things could get even worse, right?

He doesn’t want to jinx it.

His phone buzzes in his hand, and Michael glances down to see Ashton’s name pop up with the message be there in 5.

Everything snaps into focus when Ashton is near.  This strange crawling sensation under his skin might not fully go away, but maybe it’ll lessen, and maybe Michael will be able to think about school without wanting to throw up.

He slips on a hoodie, shoves on some shoes, and barely remembers to grab his wallet and keys before he’s slipping on a mask and out the door, rushing down the stairs to get out of the apartment building.  The night air does nothing to sooth him, feeling dense and muggy through his mask rather than light and crisp like he wants.  Still, he looks up at the sky and tries to let the slight breeze he can feel against his forehead calm him a little, just enough to hold him over until he can get in Ashton’s car and hopefully breathe properly again.

He’s still trying in vain to find a star that hasn’t been drowned out by light pollution or clouds when Ashton’s car arrives, engine squeaking in a familiar way when he pulls up to the curb a bit too fast, as always.  Michael makes his way to the passenger door and gets in.

“Hey, stranger.  Need a ride?” Ashton quips, and Michael crumples.  Ashton looks soft, wearing pajama pants and a large sweatshirt, hair messy and eyes tired but smile intact.  Michael wants to cry, but instead he just feels uncomfortable, like Ashton is a stranger again and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

“Hey,” Ashton says gently, “what’s wrong?”

Michael shrugs.

“Okay,” Ashton says.  “Do you want to take off your mask?”

He does, putting it in the pocket of his hoodie, and Ashton smiles.

“There he is,” he says, bringing a hand up to Michael’s cheek, and Michael leans into it, chasing the feeling of Ashton’s hands on his skin.

He’s missed this.  Ashton seems to understand, shifting so he can thread his fingers through the hair at the back of Michael’s neck, then drawing him forward into a kiss.  Michael’s hands come up to grip Ashton’s sweatshirt at the first brush of lips, pressing into it like he’s been drowning and Ashton is his first breath of fresh hair.  Ashton makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, but responds in kind, opening his mouth when prompted and licking into Michael’s, taking control in the way they both like best.  When they part for air a minute later, they don’t go far, pressing their foreheads together while Michael tries to make his fingers loosen their grip.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ashton asks eventually.

“No,” Michael says.  “I don’t know. You’re doing it, I guess.”

He starts to pull away, and Ashton pecks him quickly on the lips again before he lets him.

“Where do you want to go?” Ashton asks.

“Away from campus,” Michael says.

“Ice cream?”

Michael nods, and Ashton starts the car.

The drive is quiet.  Michael makes no move to turn on the radio or get the aux cord, and Ashton lets it be.  Michael stares out the window, letting the houses and street lights pass by on the familiar route.  There’s a Baskin Robbins attached to a Dunkin with 24-hour drive through, and they’ve made a lot of midnight runs there since they started dating.  Some of Michael’s favorite memories from last year include sitting in the parking lot together, talking and laughing and sharing bites of ice cream when one of them got an unusual flavor.  They managed to fit in two trips during the first weeks of the semester, but haven’t been able to go recently due to the campus lockdown.

About halfway there, Ashton reaches over and takes Michael’s hand, thumb rubbing soothing circles on it.  Michael tries to focus on that, rather than the stretched-out feeling still present under his skin.

They pull up to the drive through and Ashton shifts the car into park.  Despite the place not being busy at all, it has astoundingly slow service this late at night.

“Do you want your usual?” Ashton asks, and Michael nods.  When they do eventually order, Ashton gets one scoop of cherry and one scoop of vanilla, and he gets Michael the chocolatiest thing on the menu.  Ashton pays, and once they get their items he pulls into their usual parking space in the corner and turns the car off.

“So,” Ashton says when they’re a few bites in, “I really think you should tell me what’s wrong.”

Michael takes another bite of his ice cream and considers if he knows who to articulate this.

“I feel… bad,” he starts.  “Just--like my skin is too tight, or something, and I can’t focus on anything but I also can’t not focus on anything.  I’m tired but can’t sleep, the world is basically fucking ending and I’m somehow expected to read an entire book by tomorrow. I have so much I’m supposed to do and can’t make myself do any of it, and it’s not even that I don’t have the time, because nothing is happening!  I hate trying to do music classes online, I can’t fucking see my friends, and I miss--”

He stops.  Ashton waits patiently, letting the silence stretch out until Michael is ready to break it again.

“I miss you.  I know we’re doing our best with what we can right now, but it still sucks.”

Ashton reaches out again, gentle hand landing on his arm.  That makes Michael feel the closest he has to crying all night, but it’s still not quite enough.  He wishes this were the type of upset that could be solved with a long hug and a cathartic cry, but it’s not.  This discomfort is the type that gets into his bones and stays for a while.

Michael wishes the gear shift wasn’t in the way, so he could tuck himself against Ashton and hide there until this entire thing is over.

“Going to school right now fucking sucks, and I’m proud of you for handling it as well as you have been,” Ashton says.  It’s a nice thing to say, but it’s useless right now.  Michael knows that going to school right now sucks, and Ashton is always proud of him for doing the bare minimum.  He hums anyway, because Ashton’s trying to help.

“Let’s eat our ice cream and make a plan for the rest of tonight and tomorrow,” Ashton says.  “We’ll figure out the homework stuff, at least, and get to spend time together properly.”

“Can we sit on the hood?” he asks, and thankfully Ashton nods.  The night air is crisper without his mask, or maybe it’s because they’re a bit further from the heart of the city.  Either way, Michael presses close, not willing to forfeit time spent touching Ashton.

Luke is the clingiest out of all of them, but Michael hadn’t realized just how much he enjoyed touch until the virus hit and it was taken away from him.  He was craving Ashton’s long before he wasn’t allowed to have it, and if he didn’t know that Ashton needs the money being an RA provides he would have begged him to quit and move in with him and Calum.

They talk about easy things as they eat, like the shift to Michael’s favorite type of weather that had happened recently and Ashton’s floor programs that he’s planning.  Michael tells him about how Calum almost burnt the apartment down and they just barely avoided having the alarms go off, and Ashton gives an anecdote about residents trying to smuggle two of the campus lawn chairs into their rooms while he was on security.

“They’re just so stupid sometimes,” he says.  “It really is not hard to get away with stuff like that if you put your mind to it, but they obviously didn’t.”  He turns the story into an entire bit, complete with a funny imitation of their bad excuses when he caught them, and it makes Michael laugh.  Some of the weird feeling dissipates.

Ashton gets out his notes app when they finish eating, and Michael leans his head on his shoulder to watch him type up the plan.

Michael will do his music theory homework tonight, but he’s going to stop once it hits three in the morning to go to bed regardless of how much is or is not done.  Ashton will type up a detailed summary of the book he was supposed to read, since apparently it was his favorite when he took the class last semester as part of his major requirement, and have it emailed to Michael by the time his alarm goes off at 8 the next morning.  Hopefully that will be enough for Michael to do the forum posts he’s supposed to, and he should still have time to do his ear training before class.  They can meet up for lunch, then Michael can go to his other two classes, take a break until dinner, spend a bit of time in the practice room, and do his homework for the next day in the evening.

Calum has a study group then, and Michael likes working in the living room while he zooms the others.  It’s easier to stay focused when Calum is, as well, and they’ve gotten into a routine of playing two rounds of Fifa, Smash, or MarioKart during well-timed breaks.

Marked out like this, the tasks look less overwhelming.

“Can you write that I need to email the student fees office during lunch?” he asks.  Ashton nods and adds it to the list.  “And dishes after dinner.”

It’s not too bad when it’s notated like this, and if he doesn’t get his theory homework done tonight he won’t completely fail the class as long as he does all of the other work, although he knows that letting himself slip with one assignment always makes it easier to neglect them in the future, to near-disastrous results.  His lesson might be less-than-stellar tomorrow, but at least Dr. O is nice about it.  He’ll be disappointed, and Michael might cry because he hates falling short of his expectations, but he won’t be mean.

“Doable?” Ashton asks.  Michael nods.  Ashton takes a screenshot of the note and texts it to Michael, then grabs his hand as they sit in silence for a few more minutes.

“We should get back,” Michael says eventually.

“We can stay a bit longer,” Ashton says.  He tightens his grip on Michael’s hand, and maybe

Ashton has been missing him just as much.  Michael presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“I have to do my theory homework, and you’re ready for bed,” he says.

“Wait,” Ashton says as he starts to shift away.  Michael pauses, and Ashton’s hands shift to his waist, leaning in for a deep kiss.  He melts into it, toes curling at the single-minded focus Ashton dedicates to it.  They shift for a better angle, Ashton leaning against the windshield and Michael following him down, and it takes all of Michael’s self-control to pull away before things become too heated.

“I don’t want to give the Baskin Robbins employee a free show,” he says.  Ashton’s fingers dip under his hoodie and shirt, chilly from either the ice cream or the fall air.  Michael shivers at the light brush at the small of his back, and Ashton gives him a lopsided smile.

“It’d be the most interesting thing they’ll see tonight,” he says.

“It’ll also get the police called on us for public indecency,” Michael says.  “Can’t believe I’m having to be the responsible one about this, Mr. I-Am-A-Mature-Resident-Advisor-Who-Will-Do-No-Wrong.”

“You make me feel adventurous,” Ashton says.  Michael hums and kisses him again, and Ashton doesn’t try to escalate it.

“Okay,” Ashton says.  “Let’s go back.”

They get in the car, and Michael pulls up a gentle playlist for the ride back.  Ashton hums along to the first song, and something else in Michael’s gut dissipates.  He still feels a bit weird, but he thinks it’s manageable now.  He has a plan, and he has Ashton, and if previous experience is any indicator he should feel okay by the time he wakes up tomorrow morning.

Michael watches Ashton tap out an easy beat on the steering wheel with his thumbs, and takes another deep breath.

Things are kind of fucked now, but it won’t be like this forever.  He’ll be okay.

[pseudospectre]

Had a conversation recently with some friends about how stories with a heaven/hell dynamic love the idea of fallen angels, but I’ve never seen anything that goes the opposite direction. So I wrote one.  It’s been a long long time since I’ve written anything so please forgive the quality, it was just a quick bit of fun. :)

Rise

I fell for a reason. I burned for a reason. I remember so little of my previous life, so many years, even centuries ago, but I remember that much.  I have no tragic story of innocence betrayed or manipulated, no heart-wrenching tale of self-sacrifice or loss. I was just, as they say, a bastard. That’s all I can tell you, all that survived the fire, so to speak.

They’ll tell you, gleefully, about the hopelessness, when your soul arrives after judgment and they offer you a position. This is all there is left, they say. You are lost, you are evil, this is all you deserve for eternity. Most damned souls don’t truly understand, in my experience. Everyone believes, to some degree, that they were at least all right, in the end. And they fight the idea of damnation and punishment, think somehow that resisting the new temptation and heading to their torment is somehow going to prove that, or help. As if they can weasel out, eventually, if they aren’t contracted. It always seemed remarkably shortsighted; of course you can’t. I already enjoyed the cruelty, I knew what it meant, so the opportunity to spare myself the pain in return for causing it? Well, what is a demon if not selfish? I was fine with the requirements, already there and unsaveable, it’s not like it can be worse? You can either suffer or be a part of the system, and I made a damn good demon. A little hell humor. And that’s supposed to be all there was, the end, fin.

Turns out, they don’t quite give you all of the information

What you need to understand is that there’s a lot of misinformation out there about how all this is set up. Most beliefs have some concept of punishment or reward, but strictly speaking, we’re not really associated with any one in particular. Funnily enough, it has more to do with your social beliefs than whether or not there’s a god. Nobody gives a fuck who’s name you take in vain, for example; it’s all about balance. And there are absolutely folks that fill the roles of what you’d call god or the devil, make no mistake. The cultures that talk about weighing souls have that part the closest, although it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than that, ha. Not that I cared at the time, but actions, with very few exceptions, cannot be good or bad in and of themselves. Something you do nice for someone could in fact have a negative result for someone else down the line, unintentionally or unknowingly. All of that has to be carefully picked apart and scrutinized to truly reach a conclusion, and I’ve even seen a net “loss” overall be rewarded and net gains get descended, based on factors even I don’t understand. Wasn’t my job; I didn’t judge, I just turned the screws on the ones they sent me. But as with any large-scale operation, it’s not infallible. I know it seems like it ought to be, but here we are. Hell, here I am. The thing is, it’s a lot easier to correct an accidental reward than an accidental punishment, because everyone down there wails their innocence. No one believes them, of course, they all think that. There’s no point in following up, usually. Mostly, souls I worked on were one of two things: screamers (self explanatory) or talkers. Talkers are the ones who still think they can wheedle their way out, or want to share their life story again, hoping they can find a loophole or something to get them out. Some of those souls had been there longer than I had, sometimes; pitiful. Didn’t matter to me, I was having a gre- well, it was a time. And then I was passed a recent acquisition for punishment; not that uncommon, although by then I usually mostly had the old-timers who needed the skills of someone who really knew their stuff. But this soul? 

Completely silent.

Really. Didn’t make a sound. Threw me for a huge loop, centuries as a literal nightmare and suddenly, no begging, no crying, nothing. Not even if I taunted, not even when I got started. And in that moment, it became the worst day of my afterlife-me, a piece of shit human voluntarily gone horrifying demon. Because I felt something. First mistake. If I’d stopped there things might have gone on without changing, but I was never what you might have called smart. Average is probably being generous. But I was so bowled over by that little spark of whatever it was-I couldn’t even recognize that it was an emotion, isn’t that sad?- that I made my next mistake: I asked why. Turned out I’d been handed my first actual misjudgment, this poor thing never protested a single action since they got here, never once defended themselves. They’d convinced themselves in life so completely that this is what they would deserve, that they just didn’t have any desire to try to fight it. I asked what they’d been judged for, and they just looked at me, and said they were ready. But when I pushed (at that point I was panicking over whatever was happening in my brain and figured I could count more questions as emotional manipulation or baiting or something) they didn’t list a single thing I had ever heard of stacking up to damnation. Someone at the gates really fucked up, in other words. Someone came in shortly after that and whisked them off, everyone had a good laugh over it for weeks after, jeering and asking me how much I got to put them through before they got picked back up. It should have been easy to join in- before this I would have been in the center of the mockery, but something was wrong, that flare was still inside me and I was having trouble handling it. You ever have a secret and you’re just sure everyone knows what it is just by looking at you? It was like that. And eventually I figured out that’s all it was, just a little bitty emotion, but that almost made it worse because it wasn’t supposed to be there; from what I even knew how all this demon shit worked in the first place, I was pretty sure it wasn’t even possible! But all I had to do to go back to my routine was ignore it, suppress it, reject it. Easy peasy, I’m a goddamn senior demon.

Except, to my shame, I couldn’t let it go. Does that even make sense, a demon feeling shame? Pretty sure that’s what it was at that point. But it was like having a little secret treasure that no one else could see. I would hide it, and then in little moments alone or whatever, bring it out and feel. I didn’t have the context anymore at the time, but now I can compare it to having lived in the dark and suddenly feeling a moment of sun. I had felt sorry for the soul, for just a moment! And the thing about emotions, they can grow the more you think about them. And I started thinking about it a lot. And then I started feeling happy (the horror!) that the mistake was caught and they got to leave. In case it’s unclear, feeling stuff like that for non hell-related reasons makes it pretty hard to do demony things. And if you remember, I’d never felt a whole lot of that kind of thing even before I got here. I literally tortured the souls of the damned, how do you do that when you start feeling sorry for them? But that little crack of light inside me, the shard of humanity, started bring back memories, or at least concepts, from when that’s all I was, and I suddenly started recognizing them as lost. And it hurt? And for the first time, I was mourning. After all, damned is forever. A demon is forever. So I was some weird fluke who caught some feels somehow, it couldn’t change that. But, you know, when your work starts to suffer, people start to notice. They started to talk. And they were right, my game was slipping hard. I felt bad! After a while I couldn’t just not say anything to the ones who just barely tipped the scales! As secretly as I could, I was giving them comfort. And I had to defend myself from my superiors over stuff I couldn’t stomach anymore but had to keep up with, or risk getting kicked back down. The wildest part was, my first thought about losing status wasn’t to save my own skin, of course not….now I was thinking about what the folks I got to talk to would do without those brief moments of respite I’d been passing out.

Point is, I was a demon who didn’t want to be a demon anymore, after centuries of not giving a fuck, and knowing full well that I was solidly fucked and that this was only going to get worse. I was miserable, but I still couldn’t put away the way the tiniest good feelings and I hoarded my experiences like someone who’s drowning clings to a raft. Except this raft was ruining my afterlife, and I didn’t really care for some reason. But I wanted to do my best, and not in the way I was used to. I had no idea what was going to happen but it probably was never going to get better.

But then, the crossroads.

Not the regular demony kind of crossroads. Oh no, I got stuck with the moral kind, although I didn’t realize what it was going to mean at the time. It had gotten bad enough for me that I was back to working under supervision, just like old times, the bad ones from when demons are just getting started. It was hard to do much that way but I’d figured out that even just smiling helps some people apparently? Or at least, once I first figured out how to smile so that they knew it wasn’t a threat. You ever seen a demon? I was not precisely what most people would prefer to look at with any expression. But it was already a hell of a day (more jokes!) and I was apparently near a limit I wasn’t aware of, and we got assigned a new soul. A new soul who didn’t say a word, just like where all of this began. And my supervison grinned at me, and snarled, and raised an arm, and I didn’t even have time to register that I had stepped between them to take the blow. Cheesy, I know. But there was a sound like one of those big industrial light switches snapping off, and it felt like time stopped or something. Maybe it did, I’m still not sure. But the literal, actual judges showed up. I was relieved someone got there so fast before anything else happened, I hadn’t even thought about what was going to happen to me yet. Proof positive I was completely broken by then, hadn’t even thought about my own skin yet. A couple of the judges took the soul away, and I waited for my bosses to show, but the judge still standing there was just watching me. After a moment, they said “Are you coming, or not?”

What.

I don’t think I was processing yet, but I think that’s probably all I actually said. So they gave me a look like you give to the dumbest guy in the room (I’m familiar with it) and said “Are. You coming? You have work to do. Unless you really think you’d prefer to stay?”

“Coming to what? You already picked up the error, it’s not me. Why would they let me leave, anyway? Not that I’m in a hurry to get my asskicking for this.”

There’s that look again. “Then don’t stay for it, they have no claim at the moment. Your balance tipped. Your call, stay, or take your out and rise.”

First time I’d ever heard that word. “……Rise?”

“Yes, rise. I suppose they wouldn’t want it to be common knowledge around here; then again, it means the few cases we get tend to be pretty solidly legitimate. Angels can fall, after all….why couldn’t a demon rise?”

“Sorry, got brimstone in my ears or something, are you telling me, of all creatures, that I’m heading upwards?” I definitely laughed. Demon laughter is very unpleasant. Recognizing this when you’re the one laughing is not fun.

“Something like that. As I said, your call. If you still prefer all of this for eternity, by all means, stick around.”

And that’s how I found out risen demons are a thing.

It’s not easy, no longer being of hell but not being of heaven, but it’s probably easier than you might expect. People think about heaven and hell in terms of punishment and reward, and while this is mostly true, like I said before, it’s really more about balance. The slate’s not wiped clean, but it’s not like I have some impossible restrictive rules that set me up to fail, it’s not like one tiny slip will shoot me back to the inferno, but I have bosses who check in now and then, keep tabs. And they’re here to help me, I’m not just stranded to make my own way. I’m not human, but I’m probably closer to that than I am to angel or demon anymore. And I gotta say, I look a whole lot better. I still put most people off at first, at least a little, but I’m way less spiky and you know. Fewer teeth, fewer arms, that kind of thing. But I guess you could say I’m doing pretty well now, dragging my way back to something I’m not sure I ever was, to be honest. I’m grateful for the chance.

And I’m looking forward to seeing who I can drag along with me, and that part feels pretty good.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

It’s All About The Game: Part 4

Pairing: OC X Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Genre: High School AU, Enemies to Lovers, Sports Fiction

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 7K

Previous Parts: (Part One), (Part Two), (Part Three)

Summary: After spending the summer with Seo Changbin, Kayda feels strangely confident with their relationship. Yet, that doesn’t stop the school bullies and those jealous girls who are adamant that the two shouldn’t be together. Kayda never asked for this much attention, but when you’ve literally become Changbin’s entire world, you have to learn to deal with it.

August

On nights like this, Changbin liked to sneak into my room so that we could sit together on the balcony and watch the stars as they flooded the darkness. It wasn’t particularly romantic, especially since I knew that his parents might disrupt our star-gazing escapade at any moment. “You’re not sharing a room,” his mother had decreed when Changbin first mentioned the idea before we left for our summer trip in the mountains.

I, of course, respected their wishes, but Changbin liked to test the limits of his parents’ commitment to preventing any scandalous meetings between their son and his girlfriend. Accordingly, I often woke-up with Changbin laying in bed next to me, one arm lazily thrown across my stomach. On other occasions, Changbin brought in a plate of snacks and we watched Netflix until early morning when I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

It was certainly unlike any of my previous vacations, including the large family trips we used to take with my cousins. However, the comparison wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and I was feeling rather despondent now that it was almost over. “Did you have fun, Reynolds?” Changbin asked, eyes closed as we enjoyed the warm, summer breeze. Tonight marked the final evening of our vacation getaway and I was actually quite disappointed by the idea of returning to the real world.

“I loved everything,” I said, and it was an honest assessment of the peaceful trip with his parents. Despite my fear that it would be awkward, Changbin went out of his way to make me feel comfortable and welcomed.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “My parents are grateful too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they like the fact that I have a smart girlfriend.”

I snickered at the comment. “What kinds of girls did you date before? I know for a fact that Lisa wasn’t enthralled with Academics.”

“Nothing ever really happened with the other girls,” Changbin admitted. “They weren’t like you.”

“Sometimes, I’m not sure if that’s meant to be a compliment.”

“What else could it be?” Changbin asked, but I didn’t respond to his question.

“I’ll miss these nights.”

“Well, the city isn’t as glamorous,” Changbin chuckled. “It’s hard to see the stars.”

It was true and I absolutely despised pollution. “Are you tired?”

“I’ll stay up with you,” Changbin said. “I don’t think my parents really care at this point.”

He was probably right, especially considering his mother’s knowing look when we had prepared a tray of snacks in the kitchen earlier. “Do you want to go inside? We can just pretend to be asleep.”

“And tell each other secrets?”

I glared in his direction before choosing to ignore Changbin’s look of self-satisfaction. Instead, I abandoned the quiet sanctuary of the balcony in exchange for the cooler, air-conditioned bedroom that had been my temporary home for the summer. I threw back the sheets on the massive queen-sized bed at the center of the room, stretching my limbs like a cat when I finally relieved the pressure of standing for far too long after our afternoon hike along the trails. 

It was Changbin who turned off the lights before slowly joining me on the bed. It didn’t take long for him to find me from across the space between our bodies, allowing very little distance as he released a tired sigh. For several long moments, we were both perfectly quiet, savoring the temporary silence with only the sounds of the crickets outside to serenade us with an orchestral chorus of music.

“Reynolds?” Changbin finally whispered into the darkness. “Are you still awake?”

I was quiet for a moment. “Yes.”

“You looked beautiful tonight,” he said.

“Are you really flirting with me?”

My answer came in the form of his hands smoothing across my hips. “I’m still not tired.”

I swallowed hard when his fingers dug into the waistband of my panties. “What are you doing?”

It was an unnecessary question because Changbin answered with a meaningful slide of his hand against the silky material, guiding the fabric with a teasing touch to my pulsing sex. I felt him move closer, legs curling themselves through mine, and he pressed soothing kisses to my exposed skin. “I hope this isn’t the last night I can have you like this,” Changbin whispered, quickening the pace of his movements.

I closed my eyes, inadvertently rolling my hips against his powerful touches. His lips were warm against the back of my neck, creating a dueling heat with the fingers rapidly working themselves across the front of my panties, pressing down hard against my wet heat. It was a seductive friction that I could feel all the way down to the very tips of my toes which curled in pleasure. 

It wasn’t anything more than the masturbation techniques I discovered for myself after reading countless online blog articles. However, with Changbin in control, everything was suddenly different---heightened to an extreme that brought me closer to the edge in record time.

“Does it feel good?” he grunted, and I could feel his erection against my ass.

“It’s nice,” I replied, voice catching around a moan when he disregarded the barrier of my panties, rough and calloused fingers catching beneath the fabric.

He was increasing the speed of his efforts, trading long and languid strokes for rapid circles around my clitoris. “Are you close?” he asked, and I nodded quickly, chasing the high from a moment’s pleasure, shaking against his hold when I finally resurfaced. Meanwhile, Changbin’s fingers worked through the strands of my hair, whispering sweet-nothings into my ears. “Thank you for coming here with me, Reynolds.”

I fought to stay awake, but the lingering effects of my orgasm encouraged me to succumb to the awaiting darkness.

My Senior year of high school equated to the culmination of four years’ worth of efforts to find the very best University before graduation. It was slowly starting to drive me insane, especially when it involved the tiring process of online applications. Thankfully, I could always use school as a distraction during the day when I needed to focus on passing the remainder of my classes. 

Occasionally, I also joined Jeongin and Seungmin at lunch since the two younger boys were insanely entertaining when it came to their endless debates. Currently, Jeongin was passionately defending the idea of pouring his milk before the cereal while Seungmin remained adamantly opposed. “It doesn’t make sense,” he complained.

“Why not?” Jeongin frowned. “Who wants to eat soggy cereal?”

“That’s the point,” Seungmin argued. “Kayda!”

I shrugged my shoulders, mindlessly flipping through one of my textbooks. “I need more convincing.”

The two boys launched themselves into another passionate defense. “The milk will spill everywhere if you pour it on top of the cereal!”

“But how much will you know to use!”

I grinned, wondering if Changbin had ever fallen victim to one of these pointless debates. In the meantime, I was surprised when I realized that someone else had joined our company.  “Kayda,” Lisa smiled. “Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“Of course not,” I said, ignoring the way Jeongin and Seungmin paused their argument only to glare in Lisa’s direction. I imagined it had something to do with the fact that Changbin’s ex-girlfriend had suddenly decided to play the part of a friendly classmate. I knew very little about Lisa, other than her past relationship with my boyfriend, but she never seemed that interesting to me.

“How are you?” Lisa asked casually.

I looked between Jeongin and Seungmin before offering a reply. “I’m feeling a little stressed from college applications.”

“They’re dreadful, aren’t they?” Lisa sighed, offering me a sympathetic smile. “I spent all weekend working on mine.”

“Really?” I asked. “Most people think it’s too early.”

“I guess we’re a lot alike then,” Lisa nodded. “I think we’d make good friends.”

“Is that so?” I questioned. “We’ve never really talked before.”

“Well, let’s fix that right now,” Lisa said. “What do you think?”

“I mean, I don’t really understand-”

“How are you and Changbin?” she interrupted, and I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely curious or just looking for good gossip.

“We’re fine,” I said, hoping she'd drop the subject if I dismissed her invasive questions.

“Well, it’s just that everyone’s surprised,” Lisa said. “That you two have managed to make it this long together.”

“It’s really none of your business,” Seungmin glowered with an uncharacteristic amount of hostility as if he knew something that I didn’t.

But Lisa seemed indifferent. “I have something to work on with my classmates. I’ll see you later, Kayda.”

I watched her go without another word.

September

When the weather started to grow cooler, I decided it was an opportune time to visit Jisung’s new campus for the start of his semester. I was incredibly excited to see him again after a summer apart, especially since we no longer had the advantage of attending the same school together. In any case, I knew it was also an opportunity to expose myself to the idea of a college campus because it was going to be an important part of my life in the near future.

“It’s so big,” I marveled, holding tightly to Jisung’s hand as we walked along the sidewalk.

“This is the main part of campus,” Jisung explained. “Most of my lecture classrooms are in the same building.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “Do you like it here?”

“I think it works for me,” Jisung said. “It’s everything I need right now, but I still plan to transfer before my Junior year.”

I nodded vacantly, too busy imagining myself in the places of the mature, responsible college students diligently carrying their textbooks between classes. “It must be exciting.”

“I think it’ll wear off,” Jisung chuckled. “My coursework is hard. Midterm exams will kick my ass.”

“Have you met anyone interesting?” I asked, slightly afraid that Jisung would describe his new best friend as my replacement.

“A few people in class, but they’re really only good for studying,” he chuckled.

“What about your roommate?”

“He spends way too much time with his girlfriend,” Jisung said. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

I rolled my eyes. “Changbin and I have been busy with school.”

“I believe you,” Jisung said. “But I’d imagine that Changbin isn’t happy.”

“He understands,” I said. “College is very important to me. I want the best when I graduate.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jisung sighed. “I was hoping to follow you after my Junior year. But how the hell can I transfer into Harvard?”

I smirked. “You know me too well.”

“Well, let’s sit down for a second,” Jisung said, directing me to one of the benches. “Be honest, Kayda. Have you and Changbin talked about college?”

I was unable to meet his inquisitive gaze. “Not really.”

“Don’t you think that’s important?” Jisung asked. “If you end up at different places, then you’ll have to work harder at a long distance relationship.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” I quietly protested. “We don’t have to worry about something like that right now.”

“Yeah? But I think you really need to consider the possibility,” Jisung said, resting one of his hands over mine in an exchange of silent comfort. But it did nothing to stop the sudden pounding of my heart against the center of my chest.

With early deadlines approaching, I was starting to spend my study hall in the library, hunched over the computer as I perfected my online applications. As such, it wasn’t always surprising when Changbin showed up with a snack or drink in hand to join me. His excuse was often something about how irresistible I looked in my element.

“Kayda,” Changbin said softly, leaning down for a kiss. “What are you doing?”

“College applications,” I said, returning his chaste kiss before glancing back at the online application form. “For the early deadline.”

“That’s right,” he said, clearing his throat as he sat down next to me. “Who are you thinking about?”

“The Ivy Leagues,” I said. “Harvard, Yale, Columbia...” I trailed off when I realized Changbin had grown unusually silent. “Is something wrong?”

“Of course not,” he said, feigning a smile that would look forced even to a random stranger on the streets.

“You don’t look happy.”

My accusation hung heavy between us. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he said quietly.

I pursed my lips, but decided to leave the subject. “What are you doing after school?”

“Hopefully, I’m taking my girlfriend home with me,” he said, smirking over his can of soda.

“It depends on how much work I have,” I sighed. “But I really want to.”

“Then just take a break this one time, Reynolds,” Changbin pouted. “I really miss you.”

“I’m right here!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Changbin said, lowering his gaze. “It feels like you never have time for me these days, and I’m worried that it’ll only get worse, especially when basketball starts again.”

I swallowed hard, hating the look of despair on his face. “You matter a lot to me. I’ll always make time for you.”

“Kayda,” Changbin grinned, ignoring my protests when he leaned in closer to press teasing kisses across any available skin he could access.

November

Despite the passing deadline for early applications, basketball try-outs managed to contribute to my rising stress levels. Instead of feeling relieved after completing my forms, I had to worry about the additional pressure of afternoon workouts and the unexpected announcement of my coach declaring me as the new team captain. An honor that I would usually accept with pride, but it was hard to dismiss the glares from my other teammates.

“Congratulations, Captain,” my coach smiled, completely oblivious to the mounting tension.

“Thanks,” I said, unable to share her sentiment when the rest of my teammates seemed less than enthused. Based on the rumors spreading throughout the entire school, there was a popular consensus that I was stealing Changbin away from the rest of my classmates and they clearly disapproved.

Thankfully, I could always rely on the man in question after arduous practice sessions when I needed a moment away from my daily routine. On most evenings, Changbin parked his car down the street at an acceptable distance from my house. It was an arrangement that we both decided was necessary after my father discovered the two of us in a rather uncompromising position on top of my bed. Thereafter, my father never allowed Changbin alone with me when he came over, so we agreed to meet in his car instead for some semblance of privacy.

In these moments, Changbin liked to hold me close, lips smooth and gentle. My hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, digging my nails into the fabric of his band t-shirts. His hips floundered against mine, desperately searching for the necessary friction to give his cock some attention. Of course, we never tried anything too outrageous given the limited space in his fancy sports car, but our heavy petting sessions often ended with swollen lips and heavy breaths while we talked about whatever random subject Changbin thought was appropriate.

“I heard they made you team captain,” he said, finally pulling away after another long and passionate kiss.

I tried to restore oxygen into my lungs, studying the solitude of the night. “I can add it to my applications.”

Changbin chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”

“What about you?” I asked. 

“My coach decided to name two captains,” he grumbled. “I think he just feels bad for the other guy because he never played very much.”

“I think it’s nice,” I said. “You’ll have someone who can help you manage the burden of that responsibility.”

“Oh, Reynolds,” Changbin smirked. “You always have a way with words.”

“It’s part of my charming personality,” I scoffed, returning my attention to the warm juncture between his neck and shoulder. “I don’t think my teammates are happy that I’m captain.”

“Why?”

“I guess it’s because I’m not very sociable,” I lied, distracting him with a gentle kiss to the soft skin of his jugular.

“They’re lucky to have you as a leader,” Changbin said. “You always know what to do.”

“That’s not exactly true,” I argued. “But I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

Changbin’s arms tightened their hold around my waist. “Isn’t that my job?”

“I guess, but I’m not worried about what other people think.”

“I know,” Changbin sighed, “I already do that for you.”

“I’m telling you to worry less,” I instructed him firmly, rubbing my hand against the front of his chest.

“Well, I’ll just have to keep you closer, then,” Changbin said. “What are you doing on Christmas Eve this year?”

“Hot chocolate and a movie?”

“You can do those things at my house,” Changbin grinned. “My mother invited you to our family party.”

“Those are always thrilling.”

“Don’t hurt my feelings, Reynolds.”

I snickered at his tone. “I’ll make room for you in my schedule.”

December

Changbin’s parents were perfectly amiable, managing to include me in their conversations as I savored the warmth from the nearby fireplace. Surprisingly, I received more attention from his family and their friends in comparison to the previous year. Perhaps Changbin had been right when he told me that I had left a meaningful impression.

“I hope he’ll go to the same school as his father,” his mother said, glancing at her son with obvious pride.

“We’ve been touring so many schools lately,” his father agreed. “But I think he already knows.”

“What about you, Kayda?” his mother asked. “Where are you planning to apply?”

Changbin tensed from next to me and I swallowed hard. “I’m still considering a lot of options.”

“Well, that’s not surprising,” his mother smiled. “I don’t think Changbin has mentioned your choices. What are you considering?”

“Harvard,” I managed, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. “It was my first application.”

“You can’t possibly get any more impressive, Kayda,” she smiled. “But don’t let us keep you all night, please enjoy the party!”

“Thank you,” I bowed my head politely, trailing behind Changbin as he led me through the maze of his relatives.

“Let’s go upstairs, Reynolds,” he said in a tone that told me he just wanted to forget the previous discussion, and I was happy to oblige.

Changbin’s bedroom had undergone a dramatic transformation since my first visit during Sophomore year. Instead of a carpet of clothes, he managed to maintain a regular laundry schedule, and he tried to minimize the mess on his bed and comfortable gaming chairs. “Reynolds,” Changbin sighed. “I think we need to talk.”

I looked down at the collection of his video games, deciding that they were far more interesting. “What about?”

Changbin scoffed. “We’ve avoided it for long enough.”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, sitting down next to him on the bed. “I have something else in mind.”

I leaned in closer, practically tasting the overpowering smell of his cologne. It was the perfect distraction because Changbin was suddenly pressing his lips against mine in a chaste kiss. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“What were you thinking?”

“The stuff my mom brought up downstairs...”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” I said, running my fingers along the sharp profile of his jawline before gently guiding him back against the bed.

Changbin’s eyes widened as if finally catching on to my implications. “You want to?”

I nodded eagerly, pressing gentle kisses across his chest. “Is that okay?”

“You don’t even need to ask me, Reynolds,” Changbin said, reversing our positions so that my back was against the mattress. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Kiss me,” I requested quietly, losing myself in the chaotic layers of his gorgeous eyes. Changbin was more than happy to oblige, tossing aside his t-shirt in the process so that I could feel his skin beneath my hands. It was always better this way, when I was touching him to feel the steady pounding of his heart against the front of his sternum.

“Can I, Reynolds?” he asked, reaching for the hem of the elegant dress I had chosen for tonight’s occasion.

I nodded furiously, skating my fingers against his as I helped him guide the hem to my waist, trembling when he made quick work of the simple barrier of my panties. “Changbin,” I sighed, finding an anchor in the soft curls of his hair, playing with the edges. 

It was suddenly hot in his bedroom, despite the frigid, December cold outside. I was wrapped in his scent and taste, overwhelmed by the unexpected closeness of our skin brushing together while he attempted to explore every hidden surface exposed to his intimidating gaze. “Kayda,” he groaned, one hand pressing down against the stiffness in his dress pants. 

“Please,” I whispered, watching through lidded eyes as he pulled back to quickly remove the belt from around his waist, fumbling his jeans down his legs before kicking them messily into the floor with barely concealed enthusiasm.

I studied him while he reached into his nightstand, admiring the strength in his arms and the delicate lines of his muscles. He looked positively debauched in the light, desperation evident in his features as he searched through the drawer next to his bed. In the end, he pulled out a silver package, holding it in one hand while he reclaimed my lips with a frantic kiss.

He rolled on the condom with a practiced skill I decided not to acknowledge because I already knew about his past relationships. Instead, I wrapped my legs around his hips to encourage him closer. “You have to tell me,” Changbin said, gripping his cock at the base. “I won’t know if it’s hurting you.”

I nodded in response because he was already pushing inside and it was impossible to form words when faced with such unexpected pain. Still, I tried not to react, even if it was obvious that my expression gave me away. “Reynolds,” Changbin growled.

“It’s not bad,” I quickly reassured him, and I wasn’t being completely dishonest because the pain was starting to slowly fade away, but it wasn’t exactly what I expected.

“I’ll move slow,” he said, allowing more of his erection to stretch my insides.

“Oh,” I remarked, gripping a handful of the sheets. It wasn’t exactly painful anymore, but it was strangely uncomfortable. 

“Is it too much?” Changbin asked.

“I don’t know,” I told him truthfully. “It feels...full?”

“You’ve never done this before,” Changbin replied, seemingly unconcerned by my honest assessment. “I’ll be gentle.”

I trusted Changbin to keep his promise, feeling him start to generate a steady rocking sensation, moving back and forth with careful strokes. It was starting to feel better and I could feel myself relaxing around him, focusing on the way he felt between my legs. Actually, I started to understand why everyone at school always talked about this because it was nothing short of intimate, especially with Changbin’s eyes looking directly into mine.

My body trembled when his skilled fingers found my clit, providing another distraction when his hips started to increase their pace against mine. It was a slow ascent from there, unable to comprehend the unexpected pleasure from so many different sensations. Everything was finally converging together, and I could practically feel my heart leap into my throat when his cock was sliding back and forth with a relentless pressure.

I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head, losing every shred of rational sanity, but Changbin was there to bring me back to Earth with feather-like kisses across my collar bones. He was grunting from above me, hammering his hips in several, deep consecutive thrusts before the heat from his cock was gone and I was left clenching around nothing. His arms held me close, and I returned the gesture with a tight grip. “I love you, Kayda,” Changbin whispered and, if it was even possible, I melted into the mattress at his solemn declaration.

January

There was a small part of me that sometimes wondered if there was a reality out there somewhere in which Changbin and I had never met. For example, I stayed up late at night sometimes thinking about the car collision from Freshman year because it was the start of everything. But thinking that way made me also wonder if it was just the right time for everything to happen? 

I’d like to think of it that way, even if everyone else seemed determined to prove me wrong. For example, I noticed that Lisa and her friends were starting to become a problem. Despite her desire for friendship, Lisa was doing decidedly unfriendly things whenever the opportunity arose and it usually happened when Changbin wasn’t paying attention. They left mean notes in my locker, teased my appearance in the hallways, and engaged in petty acts of vengeance that I chose to ignore because I could handle their jealousy

However, when their harmless pranks evolved into something more aggressive, they should’ve known better than to try something so bold. I just wish Changbin hadn’t been around to witness their cruelty because he was certainly less accepting. It was actually an accident, having him accompany me to my car in the school’s parking lot because I had called him earlier when my parents asked me to get an inspection. At the exact moment of discovery, time slowed down in a long, futile moment in which I desperately tried to distract his attention. I had been trying to hide their abuse from the one person who would completely break-down, but I guess that was their intention all along. 

Changbin was unsurprisingly furious, glaring at the degrading word spray painted along my door with a terrifying expression. “It's okay,” I whispered, but Changbin shook his head.

“Leave the car with me,” Changbin demanded with a tone that left no room for argument. “Ask Jisung to take you home.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked with slight trepidation, reaching out for his arm, but Changbin jerked away from my touch.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, leaving no further room for argument, and I watched him speed down the road without any disregard for the school zone warning.

Thereafter, I sent a message to Jisung before sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. It didn’t take long for Jisung’s familiar car to pull into the parking lot. He stopped next to me, rolling down the window to catch my attention. “Did someone call for a ride?”

I tried to smile, but I knew it failed the moment I joined Jisung in the passenger’s seat. “What happened?”

“I hate it here,” I said, ignoring the look of concern on his expression. 

“Kayda, you need to tell me everything.”

“Some of the girls decided to be cute,” I snapped. “They pulled a stupid prank and vandalized my car.”

“What?” Jisung growled, unintentionally breaking hard at a stoplight. “That’s not a prank, Kayda. You need to tell the school, and you have to call your parents if it’s your car!”

“Changbin will handle it.”

“Kayda,” Jisung sighed. “I just drove for twenty minutes to pick you up at school because someone thought it was okay to hurt you.”

“It’s just words,” I said. “I have thick skin, and I’ve spent years ignoring their stupid comments.”

“Yeah? Well, I know that sometimes words can have a bigger effect than what you might think,” Jisung said. “It never gets easier.”

“I understand my limits,” I said. “Their approval doesn’t matter to me.”

“What happens when it changes from words to something worse?”

I shivered at his warning. “I’ll handle it.”

“Kayda,” Jisung sighed. “You don’t have to be brave all the time.”

“It’s not about being brave,” I argued. “I want to stand up for myself, and I can’t rely on you or Changbin all the time.”

“We’ll always be there for you,” Jisung said. “You can depend on us.”

He still refused to see reason, but I guess that was just a part of Jisung’s nature to be overly caring. “I know I can trust you,” I said. “I’ll tell you if I can’t handle it.”

“Don’t let them win, Kayda,” Jisung said, glancing at me with a worried expression. “You’re stronger than they think.”

I was surprised to hear such a request. “I’ve never backed down from them.”

“You also have Changbin,” Jisung said. “Remember that for me.”

I knew what he was trying to say, and I resisted the urge to remind him that it was almost impossible for Changbin to be around all the time.

February

It was still instinctual for me to dread the idea of Valentine's day, but Changbin was determined to change my perception of the romantic holiday. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help myself when I grew irritated with the Rose stems littered throughout the hallways and random boxes of candy discarded in the most random of places. The cliche of flowers on February 14th made me wonder if it was possible for girls to still giggle at that sort of thing even when they were finally married with children.

“Reynolds,” Changbin grinned, pausing next to my locker. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Really?” I groaned. “Let’s get it over with.”

Changbin rolled his eyes. “You have to wait until after-school. I want it to be special.”

I was now even more hesitant to face Changbin’s endearing expression. “It’s never a good thing when you talk that way.”

“I think you’ll really like it,” he continued. I guess he had become a master of filtering out the stuff he didn’t want to hear.

“We both have practice.”

“Well, I’ll just wait for you,” Changbin said. “I’ve been planning this for months, Reynolds. Just humor me.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But if you’re planning on taking me somewhere...”

“It’s nothing like that,” he assured me. “However, since it is Valentine's Day, I expect lots of kisses.”

“Lower your expectations,” I informed him with a smirk.

I followed Changbin to his car, noticing that most of the other students had already found their way home. “Why are we waiting so late?” I asked.

“Privacy,” Changbin offered as a response.

He helped me inside the passenger’s seat of his fancy car before quickly joining me on the other side. “This is romantic,” I remarked, glancing around the empty parking lot.

Changbin rolled his eyes. “I had to work with our limited options.”

“Well?” I questioned, turning to him expectantly. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

“Lose the sarcasm, Reynolds,” Changbin scoffed, reaching into the backseat.

I closed my eyes, holding out my hand expectantly. “I’m ready for my reward.”

“You just can’t resist,” Changbin said, but I curled my fingers around the velvety texture of the small object he placed into my open palm. “I hope you like it.”

I blinked rapidly, glancing down at the tiny box with a frown. “What is it?”

“I think you know how to figure that out, Reynolds,” Changbin teased, but his tone was strangely nervous.

I carefully opened the delicate lid, widening my eyes in surprise when I discovered the tiny piece of beautiful silver inside. “Binnie.”

“It’s not what you think it is,” Changbin said, chuckling at my expression. “They call it a promise ring.”

“I’ve heard about that,” I said, admiring the way the light reflected against the diamond in the middle. 

“Try it on!” he requested with an enthusiasm that was impossible to resist. 

I obliged him, holding out my hand to display the beautiful piece of jewelry. “It’s gorgeous.”

“You like it?” he asked, looking like an overeager puppy desperate to please its master.

“I think it’s amazing,” I told him honestly. “Thank you, Changbin.”

“It suits you, Reynolds,” Changbin smiled, but he quietly chuckled when he tapped the side of his cheek. “Well?”

I rolled my eyes, but accommodated his request, pecking him sweetly before he turned his head to meet my lips in the space between our seats. It was long and lazy, a careful pressure that bordered between deep intimacy and the tender way Changbin always treated me. “I love you, Kayda,” he whispered just to fill the silence with much-needed sentiment.

March

If there was ever a reason to hate Mondays more than I already did, then the flood of garbage that fell from my locker would definitely top the list. The hallway was filled with the sounds of my classmates’ laughter, and nobody offered their assistance while I resisted the urge to bang my head against the harsh metal of my locker door. “Kayda,” a small voice whispered from next to me. “Do you need help?”

I tried to smile at Seungmin, but I knew I failed. “Thank you.”

We were both quiet as we worked against the clock to clean up the mess on the floor. The warning bell offered deterrence, and I encouraged Seungmin to leave for his first class. “Don’t tell Changbin,” I said, but the younger boy gave me a look that said my boyfriend would know regardless because gossip often spread like a wildfire throughout the hallways.

Accordingly, I wasn’t surprised to find Changbin in the parking lot that afternoon hunched over the steering wheel. I wordlessly joined him inside his car, shutting the door to block out the noises of our inconsiderate classmates. “I don’t know why they’re doing that to you,” Changbin finally sniffled. 

“I think they’re just jealous,” I said, finding a strange contradiction that I should be the one comforting someone else when I was the target of such blatant bullying.

“I don’t want that for you,” Changbin said. “It’s all my fault.”

“Why? Because you’re popular?”

“I made myself seem unattainable, and now I’m paying the price.”

“I don’t think that’s why,” I said quietly. “Please don’t blame yourself. It’s hard enough dealing with everyone else.”

“But it’s hurting you,” Changbin insisted.

“I’m fine, Changbin,” I said firmly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“The things they say about you,” Changbin continued. “I think they should be punished.”

“The year is almost over,” I said. “I can tolerate them for a few more months.”

“I just don’t want them to send you away from me,” Changbin said, and I felt my heart break at the raw vulnerability in his words.

“At this point, nothing can send me away,” I whispered into the tense silence, wrapping my arms around Changbin to quietly soothe away his tears.

The next morning at school, I found Changbin before our first period class, pleased to see him in good spirits. The letter in my hand was practically burning my skin, and I was desperate to tell him the good news. “Reynolds,” he grinned, leaning down to press his lips against my forehead. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Look,” I encouraged him with a gentle tone, holding out the letter for him to take.

He accepted it with wide eyes, offering me a curious look before studying the envelope. I heard his breath hitch when he saw the logo in the top corner. I smiled because I had anticipated Changbin’s overwhelming excitement when he finally realized what I was implying. However, he continued to surprise me. “It wasn’t your first choice.”

I blinked twice before responding. “Yeah, but I think I prefer the mountains.”

“You really want to go here?” Changbin asked. “Kayda, I need you to be honest with me.”

“It’s a wonderful private school,” I said, offering him a bright smile. “I want to stay with you.”

“But...you talked about Harvard and Yale and...”

“Binnie,” I interrupted him sternly. “I know what I want.”

Changbin sighed, looking at me with dark eyes. “You’re more than capable, Reynolds, but I’m still worried.”

“I’ll just have to convince you then,” I said with a smile, surprising him with a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth.

April

For the first time since my acceptance, I finally had the opportunity to tour the main campus of my future University. It was a gorgeous spring afternoon, and arranging our schedules for the weekend meant that there were less students hustling to make it to their lectures on time. Likewise, I found myself in Changbin’s company, swinging our hands loosely together while we walked along the sidewalk to the undergraduate library.

“What do you think?” Changbin asked, looking at me with a fierce expression.

“I think it’s beautiful.”

“Do you really mean that?”

I nodded, ignoring the intensity of his gaze to admire the sprawling, well-manicured lawn of the immense library. “This will be my favorite spot on campus.”

“It does have convenient access,” Changbin smirked. “I guess I should get used to coming here.”

“Why? So you can distract me?” I teased him.

“I can concentrate,” Changbin retorted. “Honestly, Reynolds, I plan on turning a new leaf at this place.”

“Is that so?” I grinned. “Have you decided on a major?”

“It’s too soon,” Changbin insisted. “I want to explore my interests!”

“You mean, other than basketball?”

“Reynolds, you understand me too well,” Changbin nodded, offering me a chaste kiss in return.

“What about your dorm arrangements?”

“I’ve already finished the application.”

“And your new class schedule?”

“Finalized,” Changbin smirked, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me flush against his chest. 

“I guess this is your way of being serious,” I said, even as I made no complaints about the familiar comfort of his embrace. “Where to next?”

“Let’s just relax here,” Changbin said, pulling me down next to him on the manicured grass. “We’ll have plenty of time to memorize the campus.”

“I could use the fresh air,” I teased, running my hand soothingly against his stomach before resting my head on his shoulder. In the meantime, his fingers found their ways into my soft curls, working through the strands with lazy movements. If my future was going to involve numerous afternoons like this, curled up next to Changbin’s side, then I was more than prepared for the next adventure.

“Reynolds,” Changbin whispered softly. “This is still what you want?”

I lifted my head to meet his gaze. “You know that I applied here because it was something I wanted.”

“Yeah,” Changbin sighed. “But college is really important to you.”

“Changbin, I know you still think that I gave up on my dreams or whatever,” I said with a dramatic roll of my eyes to let him know just how ridiculous that sounded. “Actually, it’s called a compromise, and I would never settle for anything less than what I think is best.”

Changbin swallowed hard, and I could tell that he wasn’t completely sold. “I trust you to make the right decisions for yourself, Reynolds,” he said. “But this only makes me love you even more.”

I returned his display of affection, allowing a lingering kiss that seemed to melt away into the afternoon sun. “Thank you, Binnie.”

May

On a quiet summer’s evening, I visited Jisung on his campus to silently walk together along the trails in the university gardens. It was remarkably peaceful, and I was content with Jisung’s mindless chatter concerning his final exams and the dreaded topic of moving back home. However, I knew it wouldn’t take him long to turn the topic of our conversation to my impending college plans.

“You’re going so far away,” Jisung whined. “I’ll never get to see you.”

I grinned at his tone. “I’ll always come home to visit you. We have breaks every now and then.”

“Maybe I’ll transfer to your school,” Jisung insisted. “I don’t want you completely out of my life.”

“I don’t want that either,” I said. “But I also want you to be happy.”

“Who says I can’t be happy at that rich, prep school,” Jisung pouted. “I’d fit in with the other nerds.”

“I just meant that you need to do the best for yourself,” I said. 

“Well, no matter what I decide, I hope we’ll both do our best to make it work,” he said, pausing next to one of the flower displays.

“I think everything will work out,” I nodded, completely assured as I leaned most of my weight into Jisung’s comfortable embrace.

“Kayda Reynolds,” Jisung murmured. “Thank you for being my friend.”

Thereafter, no more words were needed to secure the strong bond between a special kind of relationship.

At a certain point during the year, most of my classmates had finally resigned themselves to the inevitably. Whenever possible, I found myself in the company of my boyfriend or his friends, constantly surrounded by those who cared about me the most. In return, everyone else chose to ignore me, abandoning their fruitless campaign against Kayda Reynolds. Although, I still suspected Changbin had something to do with their silence, especially since I rarely saw Lisa between classes anymore as if she was doing everything in her power to stay out of my way.

Regardless, it was easy to count down the remaining days of school with a far more peaceful atmosphere. Graduation was looming on the horizon, and this summer promised another exciting adventure with Changbin because we planned to spend a great deal of time at the beach with our friends. Everything was working out in my life, and I couldn’t help but feel like I owed Changbin for the dramatic transformation.

Despite my initial desire for a boring four years of high school, I wouldn’t trade my experiences for anything else in the world. 

“Felix’s grandfather owns a beach house,” Changbin said, leaning against his car while we talked together in the parking lot after school. “I don’t think he’ll mind if we take over.”

“He’s surely gracious,” I snorted. “I suspect that your dearest friends will make quite the mess over the summer.”

“What are saying?” Changbin smirked. “We know how to behave.”

“I’m sure you do,” I agreed, offering no protest when he pulled me closer, fingers curling into my belt loops.

“You seem really happy these days, Reynolds.”

“Well, you make me happy.”

Changbin cringed, wrinkling nose as he shook his head. “What happened? You usually hate saying those things.”

I rolled my eyes, throwing my arms around his neck to bring him down to my height. “I love you, Changbin,” I finally whispered, feeling his entire body tremble at my solemn declaration.

“Thank you for staying with me, Kayda,” Changbin whispered. “You’ve done more for me than you could ever know.”

I smiled, gripping him tighter. “Changbin, there’s no way I can ever leave you now.”

Our lips met somewhere in the middle and I couldn’t think of a better way to start our next journey.

[vfenrirsv]

When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones; When I die, let me go…

I couldn’t even begin to tell you when I last felt like I was myself; when I last felt proud of who I am, or where I came from, or of all the obstacles that I’ve had to overcome in order to get to where I am today.

I was born “Vanessa.” A Gemini, an Air sign, a Horse under Chinese astrology. Coyote is my Totem. Wolf is my Sacred Guide. In Greek the meaning of my name is “Butterfly,” also from Phanessa, the mystic goddess of an ancient Greek brotherhood bent on finding Truth. Various accounts offer the ideas that someone named “Vanessa” bears the qualities of beautiful and strong, and most importantly ‘always tough on the inside.’ To the latter, at least, I can attest.

My Mother, in my infancy, called me “‘Nessa” in affection and “Vanessa-Anne” in ire. If my Father ever called me by any name other than “Baby-girl;” I can’t remember. I don’t remember much about my Father before my early tweens, when I was forced by the courts to spend time with him in an attempt to foster some type of relationship with the man that my Mother had divorced.

In elementary school I was simply “Vanessa.” Straight-A student in all but mathematics, budding lover of arts and crafts, and defender of both my own and my Mother’s honor on the playground when kids teased me about acting like a tomboy, or not having a father.

Throughout secondary school I was largely invisible – called a number of racial slurs, though I never considered any of them my name, even when someone took the time to recognize me; to bully me. Being white in a community predominated by African American and Hispanic families didn’t grant me the illusionary honor of being called anything other than “Cracker” or, “Piglet” since my parents worked in law enforcement.

By then, I didn’t want to be “Vanessa.” I didn’t want to have a name at all. Silence and being invisible was better than being called out for all of the things that I had no control of. It wasn’t my fault that I was born white, or born into a broken home, or the product of two law enforcement officers who sought happiness outside of their careers. In a quickly emerging socio-economic climate where all three of those variables were prescribed as being abhorrent or fundamentally wrong, I was cast adrift to navigate those faults as if I had brought them upon myself by my own hand. “Dealt a bad hand,” as they say; but it didn’t matter. “She’s a tough little thing.”

When I die, you can push me out to sea; When I die, set me free…

I was in fifth grade when I thought about suicide for the first time. Those dark thoughts were the result of climbing onto an overly-full bus to go to school; only to find that the only available seat was being used to hold the book-bags for a trio of African American girls who took one look at me and sneered. I sat on the edge of the seat, careful not to disturb their property; but when the bus turned a corner, and one of their bags fell the floor; they immediately grabbed my hair, punched me in the stomach, and began to degrade me with every slur they could think of. I hated myself and my name for no other reason that it wasn’t socially acceptable to be who I was.

When my mother later confronted the counselor of the school, a robust African American woman herself; she was told something to the effect of “to take her whining child and leave.” The "counselor" never said my name, because to them, I was a nobody. I was invisible.

In high-school I was both “Van” and “’Ness,” depending on how close I was with the person calling my name. I fell into Art and Science, and always kept my nose in a book. I avoided most people like the plague. When I joined the marching band I wore long jackets even in the summer and did my best to ignore the jokes about me being shy, but for the first time in a long time I wasn’t invisible and I wasn’t nameless.

I wasn’t “Vanessa” anymore, I wasn’t the bullied and disgusting child of a single-parent officer. I clung to being “Van.” “Van” was the introverted Artist who hand-made t-shirts for several of her fellow marching band members, and who thrived in studying Marine Biology and Criminal Sciences. I cut my hair and dyed it bright colors. I played soccer in short shorts. I free dived the local haunts in brightly colored bathing suits, and learned to connect to my peers. I got piercings up both of my ears and a tattoo on my back. I stopped wearing clothing to hide within. I grew to trust and love a very small group of people that, to this day – even though I’ve hardly spoken to any of them in years – I still consider my family. “Van” was the antithesis to “Vanessa.” Where “Vanessa” was reclusive, anti-social, and forced to grow up fast, “Van” was vivacious, carefree, and youthful.

Just before my 19th Birthday I met M. Tall, dark, handsome, though 10 years my senior; everything a budding idiot of a young woman would look for in a man – minus the obvious red-flags of him being not-so-separated from his soon-to-be-ex-significant-other and going thru a messy divorce. I saw a man, deliciously off limits, and he saw a young woman unclaimed by any other. When we eventually came together he panted into the naked dip between my shoulders, and between his ragged breaths on the precipice of a climax, the name “Vanessa” – for the first time in years – didn’t make me flinch or shy away.

When I joined the military midway through my first year in college, I was only identified by my last name, as it was barked at me for eight weeks in Boot, and then used as the only true thing that I owned without cost, once I was sent to my duty stations. It was tacked onto my MOS and Rank each time I was reassigned or given a new task. It was efficient, neutral, and impersonal. I grew to be the same. My shipmates called me by rank in the office, and “Van” on shore leave.

Years after; after M’s successful divorce, a couple more of my birthdays, and a few new duty stations, I began to better understand who I was as “Van.” I cultivated myself and thought for sure that this is who I was meant to be, and that I was with the person that I was supposed to be with. I soon learned otherwise. M was man with the world at his feet, divorced, with a young virile military girlfriend, he could do anything his heart desired. He ended up desiring all options that were the opposite of my own. So, true to my name, I tempered the steel within me; handed him back the $10,000 engagement ring he had placed on my finger; and told him “I love you, but now I know that love – sometimes – isn’t enough;” and we separated.

When I die, let the sharks come 'round to feed; When I die, set me free…

When I was honorably discharged from the military I was left adrift to deal with my PTSD and clinical depression. No one called me by my last name anymore. I was a civilian now. I did my best to stay “Van” in all the ways that mattered. I clung to my confidence, my intelligence, my MOS skillset; but I was also now blunt, with a dark sense of humor, and didn’t associate well with people my own age. I was standoffish and curt, expecting the same manner of respect and accountability from my new civilian peers as I had grown accustomed to while in the service. I started asking people to simply call me “V.”

“It’s just easier,” I’d tell people with a smile, but the truth was that I didn’t know who I was anymore.

When I met S, I was still “V.” I was mysterious and adventurous. I was a vixen, a one night stand, a pirate queen who left a trail of broken hearts behind her, a woman out to see the world and maybe watch it burn. I was fun and brutal in equal measures. The military made me sharp, and S was more than rough around the edges. We fell for each other faster that might have been wise, took to one another like melodramatic lovers always do. There was carnal passion and dangerous motorcycle rides down highways at 3AM. There were nights when we wouldn’t speak at all, and it didn’t matter that I didn’t want to have a name, or that his name was all that I would whisper or scream for hours. There were risks of getting caught, of getting pregnant, of getting too attached. There were days when all we would do was talk, and yet for all of our words we would talk about nothing at all. There were days when I knew that I had fallen in love, and nights when I had convinced myself that I didn’t deserve a single bit of it.

When you don’t have a name and don’t care who you’re becoming; it doesn’t matter what happens next. So one day, I left. I made the excuse that I had been offered a job somewhere across the country, that I was going on a vacation, that I was interning with a university out in the desert. It didn’t matter what I said. I was already gone. Lying to myself about why I was cutting the strings became easier the further away I got. Years later, S and I ran into one another; and he fervently admitted that he had been in love with me and had been too stupid to say it. I admitted that I had felt much the same, but had been too broken to allow myself to believe it.

When I die, let the flames devour me; When I die, set me free…

I rounded out many of the sharp edges that the military had left me with by moving back home. I had found employment in the civilian sector that matched closely with my MOS in the military, and I had begun to try and make friends on my off days. Mostly, I spent my free-time outside. I’d kayak or free dive the freshwater rivers in my home region, hike the beach trails or brush-land. I’d camp on the beach some nights or lay in a hammock in the dark of the pinewood on others. My time in the isolation of wilderness taught me how to sit still with my own darkness, and I believed that I would be mentally equipped to handle it.

Then, I stopped looking for myself in nature and started dating. I felt that I was ready. Tough girls move forward, right? That’s how I met J: completely by accident. A friend of my brother’s from the same high school – we had crossed paths more than a few times; with him a football star and me Second Chair in marching band. He called me “Van” and it didn’t strike me as odd, knowing that he knew me from before; when being “Van” meant more than being “V.” We connected, and did well for a time. He got a job as a Deputy and I as a Dispatcher. Things seemed like they were beginning to align. I thought my future was in sight. He said my name with pride and affection when he introduced me to his parents. He breathed life back into the part of me that was both “Van” and “’Ness” and “Vanessa” in equal measures, fixing me with slivers of adoration, challenge, pride, hope, adventure, and affection. We had many of the same interests, he never once stopped showering me in affection, and J could make me feel like the most treasured woman in the room with nothing more than a wink.

Moving in together with his brother and brother’s girlfriend is what killed all of the fragile progress that had been made. I came home from a twelve hour shift one afternoon to his brother’s girlfriend screaming obscenities. I didn’t clean enough. I didn’t follow her rules enough. I wasn’t present enough, or friendly enough. I was too young at the time to understand that she was unhappy with more than just herself, that there were things going on in her life that had nothing to do with me; but all I heard was: “Vanessa” wasn’t good enough to be part of “this family” anymore. They didn’t want anything to do with “Van.” I fell apart, and I was too broken to accurately convey to J what her statements had done to me mentally, what his brother’s silence in the face of those blatantly vindictive statement had done to me. I wasn’t able to convey all of the damage that I believed was irrevocably done.

I closed in on myself and became “V” again. If they didn’t want “Van,” or “’Ness,” or “Vanessa” in their picture-perfect ideations of the familial future, then I’d do them all a favor and leave. So I ended it. Moved into my own place. Started over. “V” didn’t care if she left another broken heart to the surf; didn’t care if starting over caused more harm than good. “Van” began to have the same connotations as “Vanessa.” I was running out of nicknames and letters to remove from my name; as if parceling out portions of my appellation would allow me the illusion that I was – somehow – keeping it all together. I gathered what I had left of myself and pushed forward. If nothing else, I was ‘always tough on the inside,’ right?

When I die, throw my ashes to the breeze; When I die, scatter me…

Later, I met my ex-husband D, an Air Force veteran, and each step in our post-military journey together unknowingly brought us closer to our unavoidable divorce. We both had scars that weren’t truly healing over, and we both had been losing ourselves to our own different demons for years before we met. We both wanted a distraction, someone to fall into on the weekends. He didn’t mind that I wasn’t looking for more than a dalliance, and I was secure in the knowledge that I could use him to chase away the solitude while maintaining my independence. By the time we realized that we were mired in one another it was almost a surprise for both of us to find that our demons played well together. Everything seemed fine, until it wasn’t.

We were always on the move. Influenced by work or family or our own personal goals; we would set out to each new place with hope in our hearts and dreams of bright futures in our minds. We’d drag each other along with us; happy to be in the orbit of the other even if it meant more change. Florida, Georgia, Tennessee. Kentucky, Michigan, Colorado…Each move was a fresh start, right? Each move was a learning opportunity, an adventure, a chance to explore instead of putting down deep roots…

I cannot speak on his behalf, but in my reality, each move brought a new job that I needed to train for, understand, and master; with new titles that I needed to be worthy of, and new responsibilities that I needed to fulfill. Each new apartment complex would be a new contract and a new name that someone would call me by; “206B,” “Mrs. Vanessa,” “Miss Van,” or some hybrid combination of both my and his last name.

By Colorado we no longer wanted the same thing. I hated being “Mrs. Vanessa,” or some last name sphinx-crossbreed. “Mrs. Vanessa” had suddenly become a weekend step-mother to two young boys who neither wanted me or needed me in their lives; and was now the wife of a man who didn’t know what he wanted out of a career or a marriage. “Mrs. Vanessa” found herself far from any semblance of a home, in a relationship that was coming undone at the very seams.

D moved back to his childhood home in Michigan, and I stayed in Colorado. Alone. We were separated for several weeks; trying to figure out how to salvage what we had attempted to build together. Demons play well together until, unsurprisingly, they don’t. The time that we spent separated outnumbered the time that we had been factually married. The distance allowed us to say all of the things that we otherwise wouldn’t have said to each other’s faces. Full disclosure and transparency came at the cost of long distance calls and aggravated re-dials. We yelled. We cried. We drew the venom out of the wounds we’d inflicted upon each other and finally relented. We didn’t attempt marriage counseling.

When the years have torn me apart; Just Let me be…

In an attempt to patch the internal damage, I made friends outside of my job. We started game nights, hosted pot-lucks, explored Colorado, and I was able to truly find kinship in one of my new friends. A fellow Gemini, Air sign, military veteran, person who had lost their path but had managed to find their way. I connected with them, trusted them, and turned to them when I knew that the floundering of my marriage was inevitability going to result in failure. I was branching out, I told myself. It was healthy to make friends and not let myself wallow in the fact that I had failed at being a wife. I buckled down and filed for divorce. “Tough on the inside,” I reminded myself. Always. Tough. On. The. Inside.

Failure makes us vulnerable, and vulnerability leads to poor decisions. On New Year’s Eve in Colorado, leaning on the trust of friendship and the influence of alcohol, I was sexually assaulted by the very friend that I had turned to for support during my divorce. He called me “Vanessa.”

God, I hate that name.

I adopted a cat to quell the gathering dejection, violation, betrayal; the over-abundance of feeling everything and nothing at all, and requested an inter-agency job transfer out of state. I landed in Kansas. The divorce was finalized less than four months from the day I married my ex-husband. I was a newly-wed in August and a Divorcee in December. I forced myself forward and turned over a new page in January of that following year. ToughOnTheInsideGodDammit.

All the world is dark, and I've looked as far as I can see…

This time, I did not seek out friends outside of my job. I kept my relationships professional. I was more willing to hang out with someone from the office in a neutral setting, but would stay home elsewise. I stopped responding to the name “Vanessa” entirely.

Loneliness also makes us vulnerable, but in a different way; and that same vulnerability leads us to do one of two things: Cloister ourselves away and never interact with people again, or Muster up enough courage to try new things. I chose Option #2: I joined some dating websites. I met men and women alike, and I began to grow more confident in my skin. I was “Van” again and I liked who I was becoming. I was independent and I wasn’t allowing myself to crumble beneath the weight of everything that I had been through. As my namesake, I was determined to be tough on the inside.

Being strong and independent and courageous led me to J. He didn’t mind that I was imperfect, didn’t balk at my scars or my demons, and didn’t shy away from my past. J had a past of his own, had made mistakes of his own, had a life of lessons learned and adventures had of his own; so it didn’t seem so scary to open myself up again. To be someone more than “V.” He promised the world; a future with deep seated roots, the dream of a home, a family. I believed him. Like an idiot, I believed him. We married. We vowed to cleave to one another alone, to put each other before ourselves, to love each other unconditionally; to battle the world together. We swore to cherish and adore one another, to build a life together and never take each other for granted.

I try. I try so fucking hard. When I feel ignored, I buckle down and swallow it. When I feel stressed I keep it in to prevent stressing him out more than he claims he already is.

He calls me “Beautiful” and “The Best Thing to Ever Happen to Him,” but follows these hollow words with casual indifference and gentle disregard. He doesn’t abuse me, but he doesn’t cherish me either. He speaks of me with pride when he talks to his family; but does not stand up for or defend me when his Step-Mother disparages me and belittles my actions. “Babe,” he calls me “This is just how she is with everyone. You’re Amazing.” I am supposed to be content with that. I am supposed to be content with sitting in silence, hailed as “amazing,” or “beautiful,” or “the best.” Hollow words echo in silence. Distort. Sound false. Do not bear weight in their worthlessness.

I realize that I don’t even know the last time he has called me by name and meant it…Maybe it was the day we got married. Maybe it was the day he proposed. Maybe it was our second date...

I try harder. When I feel neglected I go out of my way to do things for him that would please him; I cook his favorite meals, I wear alluring lingerie, I clean the entire house and make sure that he doesn’t have to lift a finger after work. When all else fails I reach out to his best friend to ask for advice on what I can do to make things easier, better, for my husband. I set aside my own embarrassment at having to ask for insight from someone else, instead of getting the answers from my own husband’s mouth, as to why he doesn’t seem to want me anymore. “It’s not you, Babe,” he says. It’s difficult to stay tough on the inside when “It’s not you,” echoes hollow and sounds more like “I don’t have a reason.”

When we disagree, he calls me by my full name, tacking on his last name at the end, as if in joking-jest; as if calling me anything other than some form of dead endearment will lend seriousness to his statements. “I promise,” he says. “I love you,” he says. I am not angry that his words hold no meaning or value anymore. I am just angry that I can no longer trust anything he says. I am angry that more often than not there are no words at all, just furious silence.

When I die, just let me be…

I am angry that I have allowed myself to become this nameless, hopeless, loveless thing. I am not even “V,” at this point. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

The wife I have become is a meaningless thing. What communication can be had between a wife who tries best to express her feelings and desires to a husband who reacts with anger and frustration when faced with the truth? What future can be had when a husband will not be intimate with his wife? What value do a husband’s words have when each promise is broken, when there is no follow-through on simple tasks of keeping a home, fostering a relationship, or growing a friendship?

“Nessa” and “Vanessa-Anne” in equal measures, had been emotionally bruised by the divorce of her parents; learning early in life that sometimes letting go is the best option. “Vanessa” was poisoned by the realization that your name means nothing to those who take one look at you and refuse to learn who you truly are on the inside. Both “Van” and “’Ness” learned the fragile existence of friendship, and the aching stab of loneliness that comes after you open your heart to a select few only to grow apart from them for no other reason than life gets in the way. “Van” was sullied by the painful growth out of adolescence and the realization that love just isn’t enough. “V” was grown in cynicism, the desperate child of PTSD and depression, and knew the devastation and loss that comes with refusing to make bonds with other human beings.

When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones; When I die, just let me go…

So who am I now? I’m not even sure the wolves would know.

Daylight is waiting for you…

_________________________

“Who Am I?” by Vann Fenrirs Volchitsa, Author

“Wolves” by Down Like Silver, Lyrics

[emnotcanon]

Quarantine Cakes

pairing: Ashton Irwin x female OC

word count: 1.3k 

A/N: Just want to point out that I know I’m not the best writer and this is just something light hearted I put together the other night. I wrote it because I wanted to write something for Ashton. It is pretty unrealistic and idealistic but it’s just something little that was kinda fun to write. Also let me know if I should explore these characters more. I kinda have an idea for a second part, so let me know if I should write it!

Sometimes love creeps up on you when you least expect it. She had all but given up on it, all her years and no one had taken a second glance. The last place she expected someone to was the grocery store in the middle of a quarantine. 

She was standing in front of the display of cakes trying to decide if she should buy one or not when someone came and stood next to her, six feet away. 

“Celebrating something?’ they asked, and she looked over, finding a very tall and attractive man standing there. He had on sweats and sweatshirt, just like her but his face was beautiful. He had medium length black hair and a bit of scruff and something about him just was beautiful. 

“Not really,” she chuckled, snapping out of her gaze, noticing the smile on his lips. “Just wondering if I should buy myself a pity cake.” 

“You stole my idea,” the stranger laughed, and his laugh was beautiful. It was so joyous and free and she couldn’t help but laugh along with him. 

“I figured, if I’m home alone all these days, may as well have a cake to eat,” she shrugged. 

“Exactly! And if I gain a little weight, who's gonna notice or care? Not me!” he smiled. 

“You know, I was still debating whether or not I was actually going to go through with it, but you convinced me,” she says, opening up the cake case and picking out the nice circular one with yellow frosting flowers on it. 

“Good, that way I don’t feel weird about buying one also,” he says as you move away from the case so he can grab one also. He picks a circular one too, this one with blue balloons on it. 

As they both stand there with their cakes in hand for a second, she wonders what happens now. Do they go their separate ways, never to see each other again and just left with a fond memory?

“So, I take it you live around here?” the man asks, beginning to walk towards the checkouts.

“Yeah, just up the hill,” she answers as he gets to a checkout lane and lets her go first. She nods and smiles in thanks and puts her basket of items on the conveyor belt along with her cake. 

“Nice, I live just a few blocks down,” he nods. 

“So what are you doing to keep busy during all this?” she asks, after saying hi to the cashier. 

“I’ve been writing music and promoting my bands new album,” he says after a second of hesitation. 

“You’re in a band, that’s so cool! Have I heard about you guys?” she asks, grabbing her wallet from her purse and getting ready to pay. 

“Maybe, we’re called 5 Seconds of Summer,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. She stops and thinks for a second, trying to place where she has heard that before. 

“Oh! Did you have that song ‘love me till the day I die?’” she exclaims as it finally rings a bell.

“Yeah, we did. Youngblood. Although most people remember the chorus better,” he says with a large smile. 

“Well, I guess that verse just stuck in my head,” she laughs as she pays for her groceries and goes to bag them, thanking the cashier. “So what do you do in the band?”

“I’m the drummer,” he says after saying hello to the cashier and putting his groceries down. 

“Wow, so you must be really good. When did you guys start playing?” 

“We started around 2012? We just released our fourth album,” he says and she can hear the pride in his voice. 

“What’s it called? I’ll have to take a listen.”

“Calm,” he says with a smile. “So what have you been doing to keep busy?”

“Nice. Well, I haven’t been up to anything nearly as exciting. Just crafting and watching some old TV shows and well, going to class online.” she replies as she finishes putting her groceries in a bag and stands holding it, waiting for him. 

“Oh, you’re in school?” he asks, looking over at her in interest.

“Yeah, I go to UCLA. I’m studying civil engineering,” she nods, a proud smile growing on her own face.

“That is so cool, like really cool. Sometimes I wish I had gone to uni. What year are you?”

“I’m a junior and I’m very glad I’m not a senior. Trying to figure out graduation and getting a job right now would be really hard.” she says, wondering why she is opening up to a stranger so much. Something about all of this just feels right though, and she doesn't regret it, even as her arms start to ache from holding her groceries so long. He thanks the cashier and walks closer to her, bagging his own groceries. 

“That would be really hard. So you said your classes are online now, what’s that like?”

“Um, it was really weird for the first few days getting used to doing Zoom, but it’s getting a little better now. It’s just hard to stay motivated with everything that’s going on and being home alone.”

“Do you not have any roommates?” he asks, finished bagging and picking up his groceries. They begin walking out of the store as she answers. 

“I do, but they went home since the rest of the semester is going to be online. My parents live around here so I could technically go be with them, but they’re older and I don’t want to put them at risk.” she explains, walking towards her car automatically. 

“Yeah, I can understand that. I’m alone too. I do live alone but I’m usually out doing stuff with my bandmates or something everyday. It’s very different being stuck at home alone all the time.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been facetiming my friends and my parents a lot but it’s just not the same as real human contact.” she agrees, unlocking her car as they get close. 

“Yeah, that’s why talking to you right now is so nice.” he smiles at her. 

“Yeah, it really has been nice to talk to you,” she smiles back. 

“What do you say I give you my number and we can talk again some time?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

“I would like that,” she says, putting down her groceries in her trunk and grabbing her phone from her purse. He tells her his number and she puts it in her phone, going to put in a name and realizing she has no clue what this man’s name is. It makes her laugh and she looks up to see him looking at her oddly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I have no idea what your name is,” she laughs.

“Oh my gosh, we never exchanged names,” he says laughing with her. He gets a handle on his laughter first.

“My name is Ashton, it’s nice to meet you,” he says sillily with a little wave, as they are still standing six feet apart. 

“I’m Charlie,” she says, finally getting a hold of her own laughter, also giving him a silly wave. “Nice to meet you too.” 

“I enjoyed talking with you today Charlie,” he says and she gets a little thrill at the way he says her name with his slight accent. 

“Me too Ashton. I’ll have to text you when I get home,” she replies. “But I really should be getting home with this milk and get it in the fridge. I was standing in front of those cakes for a few minutes before you came and convinced me to buy one.” 

“I should probably get home soon too. It was nice to meet you though, and I will be looking for that text,” he says slowly walking backwards and in what she assumes is the direction of his own car. 

She waves goodbye and gets in her car and starts it up with a smile on her face. There definitely was something there with Ashton that she wanted to explore. She was definitely going to be sending that text.

[kevintor]

I Watch a Movie I Should Have Seen: Teen Witch

I had not heard of this movie until friends suggested it for my list of movies to watch. They especially pointed out the amazing rap moment and that’s really all I knew that I could not infer from the title.

This movie doesn’t waste time getting to the saxophone-heavy music. This is how it should be. I can’t tell you how many movies I watch that make me wait for the sax solo. And sometimes it doesn’t even come! Looking at you, The Godfather.

We’ve all had that dream where a mystery hunk in a dress shirt with rolled up, short sleeves and Cavariccis slinks towards you in the dark. Why do we have to wake up???

No matter how good you look and feel, never stand on a ledge in heels. Maybe block heels but not the ones she has on.

Louise’s little brother eats sheet cake under her bed and reads her diary, actually ripping pages out. He’s clearly a psychopath that deserves whatever magic comes his way.

Her dad is not creepy. He’s just someone who likes his daughter to wear his favorite color.

Hot guy from the dream (Brad) rocks a 5.0 Mustang and is dating the popular girl (Randa) living right across the street from Louise. Why do the important people in these movies always live so close to each other? I bet Brad went 300 feet before he had to honk that horn (not a euphemism) for Randa.

Louise’s best friend (Polly) is excessively frumpy. She has on so many layers, I don’t know how the bike could support the weight. She’s dressed like she’s arriving at Ellis Island from the old country.

Louise and Polly wear disrespectfully large trench coats most of the time. The kind I would only wear if I was trying to cut weight for a fight. I know Louise will eventually be made over into a hottie but she doesn’t really need to start in a cocoon. In She’s All That, they simply used glasses.

There’s a trio of rappers that serenade the school. I will call them The Leastie Boys.

Louise has skipped grades because she’s so smart. I get it now. If I was a younger kid amongst seniors, I’d want to hide myself under as much wool and tweed as possible.

There’s a particularly horrific scene where the diary page that her brother ripped out is accidentally handed in with her homework and the teacher reads the whole thing to the class. Between the brother, the dad, and this awful teacher, I’m not going to be surprised if there’s a clown in the sewers.

The girls’ gym uniform is.a purple leotard and that’s it. No shorts. No trench coat.

The popular girls spontaneously break into a song called “I Like Boys.” Is this a musical? She’s introducing them all to this song and they are choreographing it on the spot beautifully. I guess if you feel confident enough in that leotard, you can do anything.

It appears that the leotards are stuck to their bodies. They don’t ever take them off. They have clearly showered because they are drying their hair while still in the gym leotards.

Brad works out shirtless on the football field. He throws a football twice at a tire and never misses. They cut from the throw to the same shot of the ball traveling through the tire. “There’s no time to throw two balls through a tire! Use the same clip! We have six more hours of leotard footage to shoot!”

Quick question: If you were doing an audition for a play and your scene was a kissing one with the girl whose diary about being into you was read out loud in front of you, would you have any awkwardness in the audition? Brad doesn’t. Nothing weird about this. Does he have the memory of a goldfish?

Brad, too aroused by teenage hanky panky, almost runs over Louise on her bike. He stops the car and tries to help her by offering a ride home. Is Brad a misunderstood jock hunk? Randa makes him leave but he was really concerned. What a sweet goldfish man.

With a broken bike and no cell phones, Louise is forced to seek the help of the nearby fortune teller. The fortune teller (Madame Serena) doesn’t let her use the phone and basically robs her of the last cash she has on her.

Madame Serena notices something odd during her palm reading and asks her name again. When Louise says “Miller,” Madame Serena realizes she is a witch with powers that will come to fruition on her 16th birthday. We later learn that Madame Serena and Louise go back 100s of years with witch souls (or whatever). If you had a spiritual connection with someone named “Miller,” I think you wouldn’t miss it the first time. Maybe she should look into getting a third ear instead of a third eye.

We learn that Goldfish Brad can Fonzie a Coke out of a machine. The impressive part about this is that Cokes were only 60 cents. I want to go to there.

Louise turns 16 while her brother dry humps the table in excitement for birthday cake. Feel free to watch it. There’s other way to describe it.

Randa asks Louise if she’d like to go on a date with her cousin from out of town. This is definitely going to work out.

The cousin is an insane nerd who is acting as if he only has one night to live. He asks her if she wants to smoke weed at one point. Then once he’s all drugged up, he tries to get some loving in the car on the way home. It’s cringe-y. Thankfully Louise is gaining powers and makes him literally disappear.

Louise turns her brother into a dog. As if I didn’t hate him enough already, now he’s a talking animal. (See Hocus Pocus)

Madame Serena gives Louise a book of spells. She uses a spell to make the popular girls tell each other the truth. It starts off with calm “you’re not a good singer” insults but gets real, super fast. One points out the other’s “alkie mother.”

Louise wants to make Brad love her and it appears that the secret to casting a good spell is cayenne pepper or maybe paprika.

Brad comes over Louise’s house to work on his English paper. Louise apparently removes the hundreds of chairs from her room so they’d have to sit on the bed. How many chairs does a teenage girl typically have in her room? It’s certainly enough for each family member to barge in and immediately notice them all missing.

Louise thinks better of forcing Brad to like her and gets all the chairs out of her closet. She’s a good person deep down.

The awful teacher is back and this time, goes through Louise’s bag and shows her birth control pills to the class. How does this teacher, even in the 80s, have a job?

Louise rightfully gets revenge. She makes a voodoo doll of the teacher and makes him undress in front of the class. The principal catches him right as Louise pulls the dolls underwear down. Somehow he still has a job. Tenure is amazing.

We finally get to the Rap Off I’ve been hearing so much about. Leader of the Leasties and Polly battle it out for one verse each. Honestly, this could have gone on longer. I know there was magic behind it but Polly’s verse was fire.

Brad tells Louise that someone like him has to go out with the most popular girl in school no matter how terrible she is. Social expectations are the worst. Instead of convincing Brad that he doesn’t have to be with Randa, it would be easier to cast a spell to make yourself popular. Maybe even insanely popular.

The chunky knit sweater budget was out of control for this movie

We have a montage showing us the extent of her popularity. She gets applause when she arrives places. People follow her around. The Leastie Boys rap for her. And her wardrobe consists of so much more denim.

Brad takes her to a lookout point that they have to climb up to and she’s unfortunately too popular for sensible footwear. It’s hard to climb up a sunflower hill in heels. But you do what you have to do to wear the crown!

In this abandoned house, they take off some of their six layers of clothing. Then they make out in the dirty house like only the most popular kids in school could.

Everyone starts dressing and wearing their hair like Louise. Polly gets left out of everything. I don’t know if scenes were cut out (What could possibly be considered “not good enough” for this film?) but we never have the scene where the newly popular girl treats her best friend like garbage and has to apologize. I know Polly misses her but I bet she could just ask Louise to hang out. Anyway, Louise tries to talk to Polly and Polly makes her feel bad.

Because she is so popular, Louise has to sneak out the back of her house to avoid her adoring classmates. Brad picks her up on a side street and takes her for a drive. They go out on the river to talk as teenagers do. He asks her to the dance. She turns him down because she thinks he’s been tricked him into liking her. She wants it real.

Louise wants to undo the popularity spell and she talks Madame Serena into coming to the dance with her to help her do it. No one questions bringing a tiny, old woman as your date to the dance. Not even the teachers.

She wishes the popularity away in the middle of the dance floor. People stop looking at her but Goldfish Brad still feels the pull for regular Louise. He walks slowly towards her. They touch fingertips and roll them up so the palms touch. This happens in a lot of romantic movies. I don’t get it. It’s a good way to train yourself to high five. You learn proper hand alignment. What you want the finish to be. But it’s not romantic. Either way, they kiss and all is good.

This is a fine, late 80s teen movie. It’s essentially a knock-off Sabrina the Teenage Witch. The brother, the nerd date, and the awful teacher were unnecessary. Now that I think about it, the nerd date never reappeared. In most movies you’d have him reappear somewhere embarrassing like under a manure truck that’s about to be dumped. In this movie, he vanishes into nothingness. It’s haunting.

Also, they show that water undoes her spells in the beginning and never return to that either. I was expecting the boat to tip over when she had that moment with Brad on the river. That never happened.

And, finally, she never made up with Polly. Where’s the learned-her-lesson reunion with the best friend, awkwardly hugging through all the layers?

Minus all these loose threads, I enjoyed it. I’d even watch it again if it was on.