#i think there's gonna be one more chapter of senior day

[sabraeal]

Rarely Pure & Never Simple, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2023, Day 6: Free Day

Bright and early comes and goes with no sign of Obi.

Shirayuki nurses her morning tea at her usual place, hips braced against the sink and eyes fixed somewhere out past Nanna’s curtains. Or they would be, had any of her concentrated efforts to grow extrasensory powers in elementary school panned out the way she’d hoped; instead she’s stuck staring at ninety-percent frill, all that crocheted lace and starched lawn an impenetrable barrier to the outside, even if it only covers three-fourths of the glass. Nothing a quick bounce on her toes wouldn’t solve, but there’s no casual way to pop on tip-toe, no elegant way to stretch up over that homemade horizon that Nanna won’t immediately read as nerves.

And so she stands there with both hands wrapped around the mug, Felix the Cat tick-tick-ticking behind her. The reflection of his tail shimmers across the glass, a ghost of itself where the sun shines through. As long as she keeps her palms pressed against ceramic, it’s impossible to tell if they tremble.

But when the long hand gives one, tenuous tremble past nine o’clock, Shirayuki finally has to admit: he’s late.

“Oh, don’t wear that face,” Nanna chuckles, shuffling up to jog her elbow. And steep her own cup of tea, but that seems a secondary errand next to giving Shirayuki a hard time. “There’s no world under this sun where that boy stands you up. He’s just running a little behind, that’s all. Your father couldn’t read a clock to save his life either.”

Ah, she’d been hoping the furrow between her brow made her look serious and concerned, not…pouty. “I’m not worried about that.”

She might have been a few months ago, back when all this was new, and Obi’s interest seemed at best mystifying and at worst circumstantial. But with almost half a year under her belt, Shirayuki’s firmly aware of where she sits in the hierarchy of Obi’s personal cosmology: disturbingly close to the top, well above his own personal well-being, but somewhere just below food. Or, well, at least below Funyons.

“It’s just…what if something happened to him?” Her stomach clenches considering what sort of grim misfortune could befall him in the three miles between their houses. “You know, they say that the worst accidents happen just outside your own home. What if he—?”

Nanna clucks fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “He’s a growing boy, honey. The only thing that’s gone and happened to him is hitting the snooze button too many times.”

“No one presses buttons anymore, Nanny,” Shirayuki sniffs, taking a long sip from her mug. “Everyone’s got phones now, and there’s apps where you can even—”

There’s no time to inform Nanna of sleep rhythm tracking or blue light-induced wakefulness; no, she can’t even express that there’s different alarm sounds before reality frustratingly, inevitably resolves to favor her grandmother.

An ill-tempered groan is all the warning Shirayuki has before Obi’s jeep heaves to a stop at the curb. With a few more metallic grunts, it spits him out on the front walk, whole and intact, at least from where she stands. There’s a chance he might have a scratch or two beneath the thin fabric of his vintage tee, or maybe a skinned knee where the flames at the bottom of his trunks cast a shadow, but well— she probably shouldn’t hope that her boyfriend’s hurt himself, even if Nanny’s going to be unlivable over it.

“Well, would you look at that.” Grandad rests his arm right across the top of her head, squinting right over the curtain. “Positively occult, that’s what I say.”

“Oh, come on,” Nanna huffs, giving her tea a showy little stir. “That’s hardly anything at all. You should see what I can get up to when there’s a baby involved.”

“Not any time soon, I hope,” Grandad snorts, using his arm to tip her head back and remind her, “Don’t get any ideas there, pumpkin.”

Her tea hasn’t cooled a jot, but with one hand clapped to both, her cheeks are still the hottest thing in this kitchen. “Pa!”

It’s no use, Grandad’s already strutted right across to the front door, look all satisfied with himself for a joke well-executed. His hand settles on the knob for a long moment, tentative, like he’s waiting, and then with one swift turn, opens it with a flourish.

“Ah.” Obi’s hand drops from where he’s raised it, hooking it right around to scrub at the back of his head. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning, young man.” Shirayuki rarely pities her father, but seeing Grandad turn that grin on Obi, she understand why he might have elected for windows as the main source of entry to this house. “Are you here to pick up some precious cargo?”

“I think cargo would be better behaved.” Obi’s head cranes around the corner, gaze sweeping the kitchen it can reach. “Is Shirayuki here?”

“And waiting!” Nanna’s wrinkled hand presses against her back, guiding her right to the door, tea mug and all. “You two have a good time now. Do you need me to put that in a cup for you, honey, or—?”

“I-I can leave it.” It squeaks out of her, nervous, and ah, last night had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now when she looks at him—

God. Even now the scrape of his voice leaves tingles racing beneath the frail barrier of her skin, like static electricity waiting to be unleashed on the nearest metallic surface. I would have come for you anytime.

Shirayuki’s cheeks are already flushed, but she could swear the next flood of heat could sear them from the inside out, like a sunburn in reverse.

“Not too good a time,” Grandad tells them, a little arch, but she can see how a smile clings to the corner of his mouth, more teasing than warning. “Don’t need to hear about any trouble after the fact.”

Nanna swats his shoulder. “Oh, really! There’s going to be a hundred kids at this thing at least. How would they even manage to get up to anything in a crowd like that?”

“You must be getting old, Nan.” Grandad hangs from the door just like Shirayuki’s seen boys lean against lockers, giving her a cheeky grin and a wink. “Can’t remember the sort of things we used to get up to when we were eighteen.”

“Oh, hush!” Pink dapples her wrinkled cheeks, and she shakes her head. “All right, off with you two. I don’t need you getting any ideas from this old lecher.”

Grandad only smiles wider as they shuffle past him to the stoop. “I don’t think they’ll need any of my help with that, dear.”

The last thing she heard before the door shuts is Nanna’s huff, that sharp cluck of her tongue before she issues a warning, “Now, Dad…”

And just like that, the sound muffles, leaving only murmurs of her grandmother’s discontent— and the high points of Grandad’s laughter. It’s not long until she hears Nanna’s too, breathless and consternated, the last bastion against his charm. Shirayuki ducks her chin down, burying her smile in her shoulder. Nanna won’t hold out long.

“Man,” Obi sighs, a laugh bubbling under his words. “They’re exhausting.”

“Tell me about it,” she agrees, tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear. It’s only just long enough for a ponytail, and the front pieces keep trying to make a bid for freedom. “I think my heart stops every time they say we might be…”

Having sex. She can’t make herself say it. Can’t even make herself look at him, not when just last night she’d taken that picture he’s sent her and— and—

Please. It’s strange how vividly she remembers the words when she hadn’t ever spoken them out loud. All of it happened strictly in the confines of her own head. I want you. I want you inside—

Fingers slide between hers, gently squeezing as their palms come to kiss. “Hey,” he murmurs, his other hand reaching up to rub at his shoulder. “We’ll do whatever you want when you’re ready for it. I don’t care about what anybody thinks but you.”

It should be easy to tell him that it’s not about other people, and it’s certainly not about what popular opinion has them do behind closed doors, but— but about her. About what she had managed to imagine last night, all on her own, with only his chest and the hint of his erection to spur her on. About what she might be ready for if there was some way to— if only she could—

But she can’t. Not when she can’t even decide what it all means in terms of, er, readiness. So instead she just squeezes back. “I know.”

She dares a glance up at him then, taking in the faint circles around his eyes, the way his hair sticks up wildly from every direction. He must have just rolled out of bed and straight into his car.

“Sorry.” He scuffs his boot shyly on the stoop before hopping down, using their tangled hands to guide her after him. “I, uh…overslept.”

Shirayuki blinks at him, concerned. “Did you forget to set an alarm? I thought that you usually—?”

“Yeah, well, kinda slipped my mind,” Obi mutters wryly, stare pointed even from just the corners of his eyes. “I kinda had a big mess to clean up right before I hit the hay.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks prickle with heat, matching the tingle up her neck, and it’s a good thing he has his back to her to open her door. She doesn’t think she would survive if he could see her too. “That, um…makes sense.”

“And let me tell you, it was an even bigger one this morning,” he continues, so casual as she slips into the seat. “After I woke up to this.”

She glances up right into his phone’s screen, open to their messages. And there it is, in gray and white, I’m stuck

“O-oh,” she breathes, whole face so hot she’s sure it’ll crack to show magma beneath. “I, ah, forgot I sent that. I didn’t think you’d…”

See it, she doesn’t say. Because of course he would; even if he wasn’t awake to get it hot off the presses, Obi would never ignore her texts. And from the way he bends down, one hand braced on the back of her seat and the other on the dash, he’s not in any mood to forget it either.

“Too bad I missed it. I would have loved to help you.” He leans close enough her eyes cross to keep him in focus. “Only would’ve been fair after you gave it to me to so good last night.”

Ah, if he keeps that up, she might just erupt, the way kids in elementary school used to tease her. You got lava for hair, they’d always say, which suited her just fine. That’s how they drew Madame Pele in the books after all, and if it was good enough for her, then—

Obi’s gaze drops down to her lips, and, oh, well, that’s enough for her higher cognitive thoughts. “Did you…?” She licks her lips, nervous. “…Um, like that?”

“Kid,” he breathes, and that’s as much warning as she had before his mouth presses against hers, capturing her bottom lip between both of his. His tongue traces the shape of it, a gentle tease, a promise. Her fingers scrabble against the center console, trying to gain some purchase before she leans in, scraping them over his scalp.

“Jesus.” He pulls back, flushed. “Just…one second. Okay?”

She has enough presence of mind to whimper out, “Uh-huh.”

Obi jerks upright then, spine stiff and limbs loose like a marionette with a poor puppeteer, the tension of his strings all tangled. He shuts her door— gallant, like always; a gentleman, Nanna would hum, too pleased— but when he crosses in front of the grille to make for his, there’s none of his usual swagger. No flirtatious winks, no cat-like prowl that makes her flush, remembering the way those muscles feel like between her thighs. No, now there’s only a sense of urgency, a scramble to throw himself gracelessly into the driver’s seat.

He coaxes the car to a cough, its frame shuddering beneath her feet, still so stiff, not even daring to look at her.

“If you were a cat I’d take you to the vet,” she says, mild. “But I think they’d just tell me you had gas.”

That gets him to blink, to swing his head toward her. “What did you just say?”

“I was just wondering if something was wrong. I mean, if you were…” She hesitates, scrolling through her mental thesaurus until she settles on, “Upset? About something?”

“Upset?” It’s not a question, but a giggle, one that doesn’t so much bubble up as purr out of his throat, and ah, that probably shouldn’t make her toes curl or stomach drop, but here she is. “Kid, I…”

It’s with a sinuous shift that he leans over the gap between them, one hand cupping her jaw and coaxing her up to him. She doesn’t need much convincing; the second his fingers brush over the soft skin behind her ear she’s already reaching up, tongue darting across the space between them. He gasps against her; she drinks it down greedily, and the groan that follows, until he—

He pulls away. Again.

This time it’s not far, just enough to rest his forehead against hers, breath scattering enticingly over her lips.

“Last night,” he hums, breathless. “That was really good for me. So good. Distractingly good. All I’ve been thinking about this morning is how I wouldn’t mind if we” —he hisses, pained, and squirms back, hands gripping ten and two— “Ah, nope, never mind. That’s…we’ll talk about this later.”

Shirayuki blinks, head too clouded to keep herself from blurting out, “Am I in trouble?”

It’s no giggle when he laughs this time, throwing the car into drive. No, that one comes from a deeper place, one that thrums at the same pitch as something just beneath her skin, turning the space beneath her belly molten.

“Yes.” The gaze he turns on her is scorching, enough that every inch of her feels burned. “A lot of trouble. But…” He clears his throat, dragging his attention back out the windshield. “That conversation is going to have to wait.”

Her mouth is so incredibly dry. “Why?”

He snorts, like it’s funny, but she sees his grip shift on the wheel. “Because I can’t drive this car and make you come at the same time.”

“O-oh.” Her thighs clench tight, but that’s not help at all, not when he’s right here. “We could pull over…?”

“Kid. As tempting as that sounds…” The look he slides her makes her skin feel two sizes too tight. “We’re already gonna be late as it is. And the last thing we need is someone speculating what we needed the extra half hour for.”

It’s a reasonable reservation; the kind she should be concerning her with. The kind she would have been, if her body hasn’t suddenly informed her it’s been over two weeks since he’s touched her, a whole sixteen days since he last put his fingers insider her, and— “I don’t think anyone would notice if we’re only a little late.”

His narrow brows pitch toward his hairline. “That so?”

“I mean, we’ve been together for a while now,” she reminds him, voice only quivering with the barest tremble. “We’re old news. I’m sure that, er…”

“A certain friend of your will have an extremely detailed estimate of just what we could have accomplished left to our own devices?” he offers, a grin tugging at his lips. “One that, might I add, assumes quite a a few very complimentary things about my stamina.”

Shirayuki deflates, defeated. “Does that…bother you?”

“That Kihal thinks I could make you taste colors? Are you kidding me? I knew I always liked her for a reason. It’s just…” His grin doesn’t exactly fade, but the mischief leeches from it, leaving it a pale shadow of what it once was. “As happy as everyone is for us, I know some people…maybe didn’t think it would fall out this way. And I don’t want to…to feel like I’m rubbing it in.”

Zen, he means. Who had thought— who everyone had thought would, ah…

“All right.” She reaches over, squeezing his knee. He jumps, ticklish where she presses in. “Let’s behave, then.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “Can’t believe I argued for this.”

“It’s because you’re a good person,” she tells him. “A good friend.”

“No, he’s the good friend,” he mutters, pulling off onto the main road. “I’m just trying to deserve it.”

*

“Well, well, well.” Kihal slinks up jeep-side, taking the cooler Obi hands her from the back. “What’s this? Twenty minutes late and looking refreshed? Wonder what you two were up to.”

“Refreshed?” Shirayuki pants as she swings her beach bag over her shoulder, sweat dripping down her back like a popsicle left in the sun. Obi may not be old enough to drink, but by the title in the glove box, the jeep was. A pity that cars tended to age in dog years. It would have been nice to have the AC on a day so muggy not even the windows couldn’t cut the heat. “That’s a…bit of a generous read.”

“What did I tell you? Complimentary.” Obi snorts softly, shutting the hatchback. “Nice to know the girl thinks I could fuck comfortably on a Slip N Slide.”

Ah, now there’s a picture. “Could you? I mean, in theory.”

His eyebrows waggle in a more certain ‘no’ than any he could put into words. “Wanna find out?”

It’s the sort of tease that should have made her stammer and flush, pressure like a hand on her neck no matter how obvious he made the joke— or it would have, only a month or so back. But now she meets his mirrored lenses and just shakes her head, stifling a giggle. Her hair doesn’t budge from where it’s plastered to her neck and shoulders. “Nope.”

“Aw, kid,” he sighs, slinging an arm around her shoulder as they step under the trees. “Where’s the sense of adventure?”

It’s a short walk to where the seniors— former seniors; or if she really thinks about it, upcoming college freshman— have made camp on the shore, coolers and camp chairs taking up the small stretch of sand where the pine cover relents. It’s packed; if there’s not all two hundred plus of their graduating class here, then it’s close, most of them spread out on towels or splashing in the shallows

“Fyi, stay away from those coolers.” Kihal points toward four hard plastic coolers the size of a car trunk, cozened up under two extra-wide beach umbrellas. “Student Council’s covering drinks— at least as long as they last in this heat— but those aren’t ours.”

“Oh yeah?” Obi’s narrow eyebrows hike over his frames. “Who’s catering?”

Her mouth curls into a sneer. “Beer Barons.”

“Beer Barons?” There’s only a few restaurants in town, but Shirayuki’s pretty sure she’s never heard of that one. “Who’s that?”

Kihal huffs, arms crossing right over the band of her bikini top. “Oh, you know, the idiots who have been stealing from their parents’ mini bars and think that makes them master thieves?”

“What?” She stares at the coolers, nearly as large as the one in the pub’s basement. “That’s all alcohol?”

“Kid.” Obi’s mouth twitches. “Did you not know about this shit? It’s all anyone could talk about for months. This must be their big finale.”

“Their parents have got to know, right?” Kihal cocks a hip, skeptical. “I mean this is too much booze to be a coincidence.”

He snorts. “Oh, they’ve known the whole time. You think all those surgeons and stock brokers couldn’t put together why their mini fridges haven’t been stocked since October?”

“Mm. Good point.” She shakes her head. “Rich kids.”

“Pot,” Obi hums, mouth curling into a smile. “Kettle. Black.”

“Hey.” Kihal whips out a finger, prodding it into his chest. “I’m comfortably upper middle class.”

“I…” Shirayuki’s mouth works, but there’s nothing to say, not when she can’t recall a single thing about it. She’d been more concerned with passing in projects and sitting in on rehearsals and the brief moments Zen would scrounge up to talk to her; it’d been easy for everything else to just blur away like some aesthetic backdrop on a Christmas card. And then she’d slipped into Obi’s car and asked for kissing lessons, and well—

Well, sometimes it felt like her whole world could be just the two of them, if she let it. Less so now that he’s going to Lyrias— no need to try to fit a whole relationship into six months when they have another four years to fly or flounder— but it’s hard not just reduce her attention down to just those moments that are him and her and the way he can make her feel.

“People have been stealing alcohol?” she squeaks out, finally, weathering the wide-eyed stares Obi and Kihal turn on her. “From their own parents?”

Kihal’s quiet for a moment before she snorts, shaking her head. “You really do live in your own world sometimes.”

*

“So…” Shirayuki sits back on her heels, surveying the rumpled edge of her beach blanket. A few more tugs and it might lay flat, but she can’t muster up the gumption when getting it this far has sweat pouring down her spine, drenching the back of her cover up. “Is there anything besides alcohol to drink?”

“Uh, yeah, duh,” Kihal chuckles, spreading her legs out in front of her. “Student Council brought a bunch of soda and some Capri Suns. Should be right over there.” Her chin swings over to where there’s a couple of chest coolers— larger than what the Beer Barons have dragged out, but not nearly as nice— sweating in the sand. “But if that doesn’t move you, your jolly giant friend brought water or whatever. That’s in the bag over there, the soft one— yeah.”

Shirayuki flips open the lid, and there it is— probably twenty or so bottles fit so snugly together the ice has no place to go but on top, scattered in the small crevices between them. Heavenly, in this heat.

“Speaking of tall drinks of water,” Kihal hums from behind her, head propped up on her towel. “How’s yours?”

She blinks down at the Aquafina in her hand. “I…haven’t opened it?”

“Shirayuki, I don’t mean” —a hand flies up to Kihal’s forehead, accompanied by a groan— “I mean Obi. Your boyfriend! The guy with the great ass!”

That gets her to jerk up, scanning the crowd until she finds him crouched over a cooler. One of the alcoholic ones, she realizes, his grin wide as Mitsuhide warms up to the lecture he’s launched into, and well— she hadn’t noticed before, but now that he’s bent down, shirt shucked and swim trunks draw tight over his, ah, backside, it’s clear that they don’t leave much to the imagination. It doesn’t help that for all the stylized flames licking up from the bottom, the top is just a grayer shade of tan, and with it pulled so taut against him…

Well, even though she hasn’t seen him without his pants, she can take a pretty good guess at what he might look like under them now. Skin tone and all.

“So tell me.” Kihal rolls to her side with a smirk. “Is he proportional, or…?”

“Proportional?” She stares down at her, confused. “I haven’t measured, but it looks like his legs might be longer than his wing—?”

“Shirayuki,” she groans. “I mean, his dick.”

Her jaw drops, so dry not even a sip of water soothes it. “I don’t— I wouldn’t know! It’s only been a few months, we haven’t even…”

Seen each other naked. That’s what she means to say, except it gets stuck in her teeth, refusing to budge. Because Obi has, hasn’t he? Between taking off her shirt and getting her off with his mouth, her nakedness is a technicality. But she—

“Really?” Kihal stares at her over the rim of her sunglasses. “I know you said at graduation that you hadn’t done anything but…seriously? He walks around looking like god’s gift to women and you still haven’t torn off the paper?”

—She hasn’t returned the favor. Every glimpse of new skin from him makes her temperature rise ten degrees, and yet here she is, with some…dickphobia convincing her she won’t like the rest. It’s silly, she knows it is, but…

But it’s impossible to explain to someone like Kihal. To someone who knows how to want things.

“I’ve wrinkled the edges a little bit,” she admits slowly, twisting the bottle in her hands. “But I’m, um…savoring it, I guess.”

Kihal huffs, but it’s not judgmental, like she expects. Instead it’s playful, accompanied by a roll of her eyes and a grin. “I should have known. You let your ice cream melt before you eat all of it too.”

“Well, but that’s better warmer!” she protests, crawling back onto the blanket. “Isn’t it?”

“It really isn’t.” Kihal gives her a fond smile before she sighs, “Fine, take your time with him. But you better report back when you have answers. We’re best friends, you can’t hold out on me.”

“I will.” Even if they might be thirty when she does. “I mean, within reason.”

“No, no reason! I want to know every freckle or whatever. I should be able to picture his dick fully formed in my mind, no—”

“If you’re so desperate to know about proportions,” Kiki drawls, dropping down beside them. “Then you should know, Mitsuhide is.”

“God,” Kihal sighs. “I knew it.”

*

There’s a point— later in the day, of course, when some of her fellow former seniors have finally stated to filter out and the crowd thins— where it all becomes a little much. Where the sun and the heat and the nostalgia starts to tire her out, making her feel faded, like she’s bleached at the edges, frayed. This may have been her first year at Wisteria High, but she’s lived in this town her whole life, walked these woods more times than she can count. She even has pictures of herself standing in front of this very lake, baby fat still clinging hard to her cheeks.

The water laps around her legs, sun sinking from afternoon to evening, and all at once, she knows: it will never be like this again. That some of these people will say their goodbyes, and they’ll be gone from her life, forever. There will be high school reunions and chance meetings at the grocery store and social media posts, but—

But this is it. The end of an era. And here’s her, sitting at the end of the dock, tenaciously trying to cling to the last of it. Lingering like if she saves a few sips at the bottle of the bottom, her childhood will never truly be over.

At least, that’s what it feels like before something tan and lean surges up out of the pond, cold water splashing all over the tender skin of her thighs.

“Hey, Kid,” it says, tossing back wet hair with a predator’s smile. “Carrying something heavy there?”

She’d love to wrinkle up her nose at him, to give him a good, honest frown the way she used to when her wayward ASM would get up to no good, but for as much as there’s chaos in that grin, there’s concern too.

“Do you remember when we last came out here?” she murmurs, looking out across the water. “You dared me to skinny dip.”

Most of Obi’s submerged, his arms folded across the dock like a bowline around a cleat, but what she can see— every bit of it goes tense. “Yeah,” he rasps out, turning his head out toward the water. “Kinda…hard to forget.”

She blinks down, practically boring a hole through the whirl of his cowlick. “Really? You were…? Even then?”

“Why d’you think I was so eager to go in after you?” he grumbles, shoulders oddly flushed. “I kinda…listen, I didn’t really get what was going on with me when it came to you, but when you shimmied out of that skirt of yours—”

“You said you weren’t going to look!”

“I wasn’t looking! I was peeking.” Obi does a little bit of that now too, though his eyes skitter away before she can catch them. “It’s different. Anyway, I figured it out real fast. Too fast! Thought that freezing ass pond water would help. Which it did. Mostly.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Mostly?”

“Well, I might have caught a nipple too. You bobbed up a little when you splashed me, and uh…” He casts her a guilty look, though not an ounce of it seems sorry. “Well, it helped with things later. On my own. More than a couple times.”

There’s a prickle of heat between her thighs, enough that she has to clench to keep her head from spinning. “So you…? To me…? Then?”

“Ah, we don’t have to talk about me.” He lets his mouth hook into a smirk. “I think we should talk about you. And how you got stuck last night.”

“Oh!” That had been a conversation she’d meant to have on the ride here, a small victory she thought he’d be happy to celebrate, but now that his cheek rubs against the outside of her thigh, casual like he’s just wiping off a drip of water from his eyes, well— “You don’t need to, um…worry about that.”

“Hm?” His lips linger against the smooth flesh of her hip. “But I have been. All afternoon. Haven’t been able to” —her breath catches as one of his hands drops, tracing over her ankle— “stop thinking about it.”

A sigh trembles out of her, thin and helpless as his thumb smooths over the skin there, so sensitive she almost squirms. “You didn’t…have to…”

“Of course I do,” he hums, playfully taking the edge of her suit between his teeth. “It’s my job to make sure that you don’t get—”

“It’s fine,” she blurts out, hardly able to hear herself over the blood rushing through her ears. “I handled it.”

His jaw goes slack, her suit snapping back against her skin. “Come again?”

“I, um…” She swallows, ever part of her tingling under the intensity of his stare. “I got stuck, but then I, ah…got myself unstuck?”

“On your own?” he asks, strangely distant.

“Ah…” She nods, hoping he can’t see the way her hands tremble in her lap. “Y-yeah.”

A grin breaks out across his face, as bright as the dawn itself. “You wanna show me?”

Shirayuki stares. “What? Now? But there’s people—”

“We can solve that.” His hands wrap around her waist; her only warning before he drags her down, pond water splashing up around her shoulders before she can think to swim.

“Obi,” she yelps, hands scrabbling for his shoulders. She manages to hook one on her own, but he guides her to the other, pulling her close enough that her feet can rest right on his thighs. The muscles tense beneath her toes, hard as the pylons that serve as the dock’s mooring, and haah, well, the water’s a little warmer now that she’s got that in her head.

“See?” he hums, one hand gripping the dock to steady them. “Nice and private.”

She’d like to argue, but there’s no line of sight to the shore from this side of the dock; she’d have to bob up to even see the other one, positioned right across the lake, and well—

“We shouldn’t,” she gasps, fingers clutching tight enough her nails leave little crescent on his shoulders. “Not…not right here. Anyone could just…just swim over…”

The arm around her tightens, and Obi’s grin smooths to something more serious. “You don’t have to, kid. If this doesn’t feel good, then I’ll tease but not touch.”

Her toes curl against the flex of his thighs, and, ah, each lap of the water makes her aware of how close he is, of how much she would like to be touched. “I…um…”

“But…” He leans in close, his grin so wicked her heart skips a beat. “I think you’re into it.”

“O-obi!” It’s hard to hold the moral high ground when she’s so flushed it’s a surprise water doesn’t boil when it touches her. “That’s not…I’m not…um…”

“We’re not going to get caught.” It’s a promise when he says it, a certainty. “But…it still feels a little wrong, doesn’t it? That we could get caught. That someone else could see me touching you, and they’d know how good you get it, how good I can make you feel.”

She hadn’t thought it was possible to tremble like this and be so hot, for her to be fully submerged and yet know that she’s wet.

“Come here.” He parts her legs, wrapping them around his waist, leaving her wide open to him and yet still hidden from view. “Now no one can even tell, even if they do look this way.”

“Obi…” It’s not a no. God, it’s not even a yes; it’s a please.

His grip tightens around the dock. “Show me what you were doing last night. I want to see it.”

His free fingers drop between them, pulling aside the strip of nylon blend that covers her, and haah, the caress of the water against her folds has her hand diving between them before he can ask again.

“Jesus.” Black eclipses gold until only a thin rim of it remains, trembling the way his arm does as he holds them steady. “Kid…”

The pond’s hardly clear enough for him to see the way she drags her fingers over herself, so slick and ready that she tumbles into his hand more often than she manages to brush her clit, but it’s— it’s working, a few strokes bringing her close enough to that painful edge that she whines, head thumping back against the dock.

“Fuck, wait,” he gasps, mouth slack. “Tell me…tell me what you were thinking about. Last night.”

“Obi.” How can he expect her to talk when every bit of her longs to be consumed, when all she can think about is that she’s empty, and she could— he could— “You.”

“Good.” His grin is insufferable, but there’s something about it that makes her gasp, that makes her think about him laying next to her, just watching as he— “What about me?”

“Your picture.” She should be embarrassed, mortified that she’s even admitting to getting off just by looking at him, but it’s hard to remember when he’s so warm under her hand, when he’s looking at her like he can’t decide whether to kiss her or devour her whole. “It was— you were— hard. I wanted…”

A lot more than she’s ready for, she knows that even now. “I wanted it to be you,” she manages instead. “Touching me. In my bed. I thought about good your fingers are, and I—”

She nearly comes right there from the way he groans, forehead resting against her shoulder. “You like that? Me touching you?”

“Yes. And I thought about how I could— how I might—” She whimpers, frustrated, chasing that elusive high round and round, but finding no relief. “Obi, I need— more, please—”

“Fuck. Yeah, okay I” —he laughs, the sound muffled in her shoulder— “I got you.”

Two fingers thrust between her lips, but he doesn’t bat away her hand, like she expects. Doesn’t take over. No, after that first thrust he slows, following the rhythm of her slower strokes, fingers pumping into her with a languidness that has her whining against his throat.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, so low her skin shivers. “What were you think you could do?”

“I”—she’s so close it hurts, her voice barely eking above a whisper— “I want to touch you.”

It’s not the pace of his thrusts or the teasing of her fingers that pushes her over, oh no— it’s his face, the way his mouth goes slack and he flushes straight down to his shoulders, every bit of him vulnerable, every bit of him wanting. A whine escapes her, threatening a keen, but he swallows it as she trembles, pulling her closer even as his fingers never still, pulling each last thread of pleasure out of her.

When she’s done, they’re adrift. Or, well, at least no longer hanging off the dock.

“Well,” Obi chuckles lowly, letting her tortured swim suit snap back into place. “You didn’t do that alone, but I think an assist counts.”

A laugh bubbles out of her as she presses her head into his neck, self-conscious. “It’s just…better when you touch me.”

“Haah.” They’ve floated shallow enough that he can stand, and he does, nearly dropping her straight back into the water. “I’m glad to hear it, but uh…” He squirms, trying to unwrap her from his waist. “I think I got to, er…”

She blinks up at him, only clinging closer. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing! Nothing. That’s was…” His mouth curves, utterly satisfied. “That was great. I just…have something I should go take care of.”

“What do you—?” Something twitches against her, and ah, it’s an answer. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” His flush has faded to pink, but it’s still there, lingering. “And unlike you, it’s, ah, a little more obvious when I handle myself. So I thought I might…”

His head jerks toward the wooded part of the shoreline, lingering just a few elementary backstrokes away.

“Oh, you mean…?” It’s far enough from the beach that she doubts anyone else would be wandering through, but still, she frowns. “In there…?”

“Yeah.” He disentangles himself from her limbs, setting her down gently. “I’ll only be a minute.”

He draws himself up, water coming just under his hips, and ah, it’s not just his butt that those trunks don’t leave to the imagination now.

“Wait.” She catches his hand. “Obi…”

“Really, kid.” His eyebrows raise, emphatic. “It’s not gonna be long. You, ah…did a good job out ther.”

“No, it’s just…” She licks her lips. “Can I…come?”

He blinks at her, eyes so wide she’s sure they’ll fall out of their sockets. “I thought you just did.”

“I mean…” She stands up too, only up to her waist here, shivering when the wind blows over her. “I’d like to see you come again. Maybe even…help?”

His breath catches. “Ah, yeah.” His fingers squeeze tight around hers. “Yeah, I think that would be, uh…fine with me.”

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us — JJK ,, index ,, about taglist

Chapter 02 — distraction ✎

fic summary: you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

nsfw warnings: smut; lots of kissing, lots of touching lol, oral (male recieving, fem too? kinda), sucking fingers, doggy style, unprotected sex (shes using birth control so yep, be safe!) use of ‘good girl’

wc: 6k

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @kyuupii @fluttershypoo @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @mar-lo-pap @jungkooks-wife @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @leemonis-blog

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @sweetmimosa28

abt series taglist: send me an ask w the series title !!

“i have to go.”

“why don’t you just come back home? you can start over, and this time, maybe you’ll be more like your brother.”

you sigh.

“mom, i don’t want to be him,” you say quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. on the other end, you hear her let out a soft, disapproving tsk, a sound that always manages to make you feel a little smaller.

“aren’t you clearly struggling with school? if you were here with us, with your brother, we’d help you. you’d be fine,” she insists, as if coming home would magically fix everything.

you roll your eyes.

“i really have to go.”

“___, just listen to—”

but before she can finish, you end the call, staring at the blank screen for a moment.

there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, one that refuses to fade, no matter how much you try to brush it off. its like a quiet reminder of all the things you’re trying to avoid.

go back home?

after everything you’ve been through to study what you want, to finally live on your own terms. every argument, every latenight fight with your parents, all just to claim a bit of freedom.

you worked so hard to break free from their expectations, to stand on your own.

you even transferred universities just to escape the constant pressure back in your hometown. no matter what you did, it was never enough. every choice was somehow wrong, not ‘their way.’

you can’t go back now.

not until you’ve made it, not until you have something real to prove them wrong. you have to be successful, if only to show them that your way was the right way all along.

“hey, are you done thinking? never seen anyone contemplate cheerios this hard.”

min yoongi’s low voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up, finding him behind the cash register, his lips curving into a small smile.

“just wondering if i can actually trust your store’s products. what if you are some sort of cheerio secret agent and you're trying to poison me?” you joke, handing him the money.

“oh no, you figured it out. we’ve been poisoning the cheerios. now how am i gonna explain to my boss that our mission failed?” he dramatically placesb a hand on his forehead as if you revealed his deepest darkest secret. you can’t help but chuckle, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit.

“bad day?” he asks, his gaze softening a bit as he opens the cash register.

min yoongi; your friend.

well, he's more like your senior. he graduated last year and he is working parttime at this convenience store cuz he thinks in this way he could spend some time outside.

you didn't question him about it any further.

you don’t usually come here unless it’s an emergency, and breakfast for tomorrow qualifies as pretty urgent, or so you tell yourself.

“something like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nods slightly. “well,” he begins, “i’m sorry i can’t give you a discount,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.

you chuckle, the corners of your mouth lifting. “aw, that’s too bad. i thought i might get these cheerios for free.”

he smiles softly, “maybe some other time,"

you smile back at yoongi and turn to leave. but then you almost bump your head against a man’s chest, stumbling back in surprise.

that was close.

you look up to apologize, but your words get caught in your throat as you take in his appearance.

he’s handsome.

no, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. his face is sculpted to perfection, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. his dark eyes seem to pierce right through you, and his long, dark hair falls effortlessly over his forehead.

but there’s something else,

he looks... mad?

you quickly gather yourself, your cheeks warming slightly. “sorry,” you blurt out, stepping aside to let him pass.

as you walk out of the store, you catch a snippet of conversation behind you.

“are you still upset about her, jungkook?” yoongi’s voice carries just enough for you to hear.

you try to shake it off, not wanting to dwell on whatever is unfolding behind you. it’s not your business, after all.

you step outside, the cool air hitting your face as you leave the store, and try to focus on the tasks ahead of you.

“it doesn’t make any sense, hyung,” jungkook scoffs, the frustration bubbling up inside him.

“when did she ever make sense?” yoongi replies dryly, not backing down as he meets jungkook’s glare. the tension in the air feels thick, but yoongi isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

“from my point of view, you’re now a free man. free from all the bullshit you’ve been through,” yoongi explains, hoping to lift jungkook’s spirits.

“what bullshit? i was happy. we were happy,” jungkook frowns, his confusion evident. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, struggling to comprehend yoongi’s words.

“that’s what she wanted you to think,” yoongi replies, his tone serious. “and to be honest, that’s what you always did. you did whatever she wanted. you changed for her.”

“i loved her,” jungkook insists, his voice a bit softer but still filled with conviction, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

“did you? really?” yoongi presses, searching jungkook’s eyes for any hint of doubt. he knows this is a tough conversation, but it needs to be talked out.

jungkook looks away and mutters. “you don’t get it,”

yoongi’s expression softens. he presses his lips together as he looks at jungkook, feeling bad for him. “i’m sorry, jungkook. but you really have to let it go now. it’s been two weeks. it’s time to start moving on.”

jungkook stays silent.

instead of responding, he reaches for a lollipop displayed near the cash register, the bright colors contrasting sharply with his gloomy mood. he hands yoongi some money, more than what the lollipop costs, as if he’s paying for more than just candy.

“do you want the change, or can i keep it as a tip for my great service slash friendship?” yoongi tries to lighten the mood, hoping to bring a smile to jungkook’s face.

and it does.

jungkook’s lips curl into a faint smile, a small but genuine response. “keep it,” he says softly.

as jungkook turns to leave, yoongi watches him go, feeling sad for his friend.

“bad day indeed.”

you're sat on a bench in the park near the convenience store, lost in your own thoughts. the quiet sounds of the evening settle around you, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and your own sighs mingling with the cool air.

you’re not really thinking about anything in particular, just letting your mind wander in that aimless way it does when everything feels overwhelming.

then, a loud voice cuts through your thoughts.

“no, i know you're hiding something from me!” someone snaps, his voice taut with irritation. “fine! have it your way then.”

curious, you glance over and recognize him immediately; the same man from earlier at the store, the one you’d nearly bumped into.

he’s pacing as he talks on his phone, one hand running through his dark hair in exasperation. his jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance.

after a moment, he ends the call with an aggravated sigh, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he makes his way into the park, still visibly upset. he barely notices his surroundings as he walks closer to where you’re sitting.

he sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath as if willing the frustration to melt away. you can’t help but stare a little, like an idiot.

then his eyes snap open and land directly on you.

“got a problem with me?” his voice is sharp, cutting through the silence between you.

you blink, startled, and stand up instinctively. “excuse me?”

he turns fully to face you, his eyes never leaving yours. “i asked, you got a problem with me?”

“no.” you shake your head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“good.”

wow. nice attitude.

just as you’re about to walk away, he calls out again.

“never seen you around here before.”

“pardon?” you turn back, surprised.

“you’re yoongi's friend, right?” he asks,

you cross your arms, giving him a wary look. “why do you care?”

he shrugs, almost nonchalant. “my bad, just curious. never seen yoongi smile at a normal customer before, so i assumed.”

“oh,” you reply, softening just a bit. “well, i guess you could say we're friends.”

he raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you guess?”

you offer a small shrug of your own. “he used to help me when i was still a freshman, and he still tries to whenever he can. i'd say he's like my teacher, in a way. it’s not like we hang out or anything, though.”

he tilts his head, considering your words. “well, consider yourselves friends. trust me, he doesn’t just help anyone.”

you narrow your eyes slightly, still wary. “and who are you, exactly?”

“jeon jungkook,” he says, extending a hand with a surprisingly polite nod. instinctively, you reach out and shake it, his grip firm. “since you're yoongi's friend, i think we go to the same university. though this is the first time i’m seeing you.”

“same, i am ___,” you pull your hand back.

“what are you doing here, in the middle of the night? didn’t your parents ever tell you not to go out alone?” he asks, the way he talks is somewhere between teasing and serious. you can't quiet get what it is but something about it grates on your nerves, like he's playing at being concerned but in a way that feels almost mocking.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back, meeting his gaze head on.

he doesn’t flinch, only tilts his head slightly. “i always come here,” he says, his voice calm, almost like a matterof fact.

“same,” you respond. “during the day.”

he quirks a brow, “so why are you in my night shift?”

you scoff, a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. “this isn’t your place or ‘shift,’ you know."

“well, you come here during the day; i come here at night. sounds like shifts to me,” he says with a shrug, and you catch the playfulness on his face.

“guess i’m overtiming, then,” you say, glancing away to hide your own smirk. “don’t mind me.”

he stays silent.

“you’ve got your own shit to deal with, huh?” he says, his voice breaking the quiet.

“why are you talking to me?” you blurt out, catching him a little off guard. “i mean, you don’t even know me.”

he raises an eyebrow, unphased. “i could ask you the same thing,” he replies, mimicking your answer from before.

you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “i don’t think i want to talk about my problems with a random stranger.”

“problems…” he echoes, looking you up and down like he’s trying to figure you out. “let me guess. got into a fight with your boyfriend?”

“no,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes. “i don’t have one.” for a second, you think you catch a flicker of surprise on his face. “what about you? girlfriend mad at you?”

his face shifts, something almost vulnerable passing over his features before he looks away. “guess you could say that,” he mutters. “since she broke things off with me.”

a silence stretches between you two.

“i’m… sorry to hear that,” you finally say, feeling the awkwardness settle around you.

you didn't expect that.

honestly, the idea of someone like him getting dumped hadn’t even crossed your mind. a guy who looks like that—that intense aura—doesn’t exactly seem like the type to get left behind.

you assumed he’d be the one calling the shots, the one walking away. but here he is, single and clearly dealing with the aftermath of something that’s weighing on him. its surprising.

a thought crosses yourmind.

if someone could leave him, someone who had a place in his life and a claim to his heart, maybe he’s not as perfect as he seems on the outside. maybe there’s something beneath the surface, something that’s harder to deal with than his looks would suggest.

it’s like a puzzle you didn’t even mean to start solving, yet here you are, wondering if there’s more to him than just that handsome face.

but then you shake the thought away. he’s a stranger. a random guy you happened to bump into, quite literally, at a park in the middle of the night. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. or, at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

because, really, why should you care?

whatever his story is, it’s none of your business.

“anyway, hope you figure your problems out.” he says, his gaze flickering away as if he’s eager to dodge any deeper conversation.

“likewise,” you reply.

without warning, he pulls a lollipop from his pocket, holding it out to you. “here,” he says, waiting for you to take it.

you reach out slowly, raising an eyebrow. “thanks?”

he smirks, “again, did your parents never tell you not to take candy from strangers?”

“maybe i like to be a little rebellious,” you say, smirking back at him and he shakes his head smiling.

“well, go ahead, eat it. i don’t want you tossing it away. i spent a lot on that sucker,” he says, a playful grin spreading across his face. despite the oddness of the moment, a corner of your mouth quirks up.

you unwrap the lollipop, examining it with a critical eye before giving him a look that says it all.

he catches it, tilting his head in curiosity. “what?”

“i don’t think i like raspberry flavor,” you admit, holding the lollipop up like a trophy of sorts.

he squints at you, “you’ve never tasted one before?”

you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “i don’t like raspberries, so i’m guessing this is more of the same.”

he shakes his head, lips twitching into a smirk. “that’s pretty bold, making assumptions without even trying it.”

“just give it a taste; maybe you'll like it,” he suggests, a teasing smile forming on his lips, clearly wanting you to try it. deep down, he doesn't even like raspberry flavor; he just picked it out randomly at the store.

“uh, no thanks. i don’t want that nasty taste on my tongue,” you reply, scrunching your nose a little . “but thanks, you could have—”

your words are abruptly cut off as he grabs your hand, the lollipop still held tightly between your fingers. in one swift motion, he leans in, wrapping his mouth around it. his tongue swirls around the candy, and then he pulls it out, his lips glistening with a reddish-pink hue that matches the flavor.

you're completely taken aback, eyes widening in shock.

oh what the fuck.

“yeah, you’re right. it does taste nasty,” he says, licking his lips as he releases your hand. “give it to me, i'll just throw it away or something”

suddenly, the lollipop feels trivial compared to what he just did. you stand there, completely speechless, your mind and heart racing as you try to process what jus happened.

“what?” he stares at you.

“you’re good with your tongue,” you say, the words slipping out before you can really think them through.

he pauses, his eyes widening for a second, and he chokes on nothing, almost like he’s been caught off guard mid-breath. “uh, what?” he finally manages, blinking rapidly.

realizing how that might’ve sounded, “i just meant... the lollipop. you seemed pretty skilled with it,” you clarify, though you’re aware it’s not really helping.

what are you even trying to say?

he looks at you, a smirk playing on his lips now. “uh-huh, sure,” he says, teasing you. “that’s what you meant.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “don’t flatter yourself, i was just making an observation.”

but the way he’s looking at you now, dark eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place, makes it hard to pretend that slip of the tongue didn’t mean more than you intended.

“so, do you want to suck on it?”

“huh?” you blink.

suck on what now?

“the lollipop” he clarifies, a small smile playing on his lips.

oh.

you clear your throat, fighting to keep a neutral expression. “no, definitely not, especially now that you had your tongue all over it.” you try to scrunch your nose, but any attempt at showing disgust falls flat with the heat rising in your cheeks.

“alright then, just asking if you changed your mind,” he shrugs, still holding your gaze.

“i still don’t want it,” you say quickly, trying to sound convincing.

“okay.” he blinks, unfazed.

“okay,” you repeat, awkwardly.

he gestures to the lollipop still in your hand. “uh, so… are you gonna keep holding it?”

you glance down, pulling your hand back. “i’m gonna throw it away,” you declare, though it feels a bit ridiculous now, given everything that just happened.

“i hope so,” he says, one side of his lips quirking up.

why do you kind of like his smile?

you try to shake your thought off, tossing the lollipop into a nearby trash can, trying to act as casual as possible.

“well, guess that's the end of that,” you say, hoping to sound nonchalant. he nods as he crosses his arms.

you raise an eyebrow, mimicking his stance. “do you usually hand out half-eaten lollipops to strangers?”

he laughs, low and soft, the sound surprisingly warm in the quiet night. “only when they look like they need a little distraction.”

you tilt your head. “oh? and what made you think i needed one?”

his eyes meet yours, his expression softening. “just a hunch,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. “we all got stuff we’d rather not think about, right?”

a pause.

there’s something unspoken between you two, a quiet understanding in the way you hold each other’s gaze.

he's right.

you are stressing about things you'd rather not think about, things that seem to cling to your mind no matter how hard you try to push them away.

and then there's him, a stranger but somehow not, going through his own mess. you can see it in his tired eyes, the way he keeps looking off into the distance as if trying to shake off whatever weight he's carrying.

you realize you don’t mind it; you don’t mind his company, or even the strange comfort of this shared silence.

both of you are here, each trying to forget whatever it is that’s eating at you. maybe that’s why this moment feels so easy.

”yeah,” you finally say, “guess we do.”

“i gotta go now,” you announce, hoping to put an end to whatever weird tension is building between the two of you.

he doesn't say anything. no goodbyes, no attempts to stop you. so you turn and start walking away, trying to shake off whatever just happened.

but before you can take more than a few steps, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. you stop, surprised, and turn back to face him. his grip isn’t tight, but it’s firm enough to make you pause.

you meet his gaze, and there's something in his eyes—something intense, something that makes your stomach flip.

“would you like a distraction?” he asks, voice low, almost like a whisper meant just for you.

you blink, not sure if you heard him right. “what?” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

instead of answering, he tugs you gently closer. your body stumbles forward, and your hands land on his chest to steady yourself. his heartbeat is strong under your palm, and suddenly, everything feels too close, too intense.

he looks down at you, his eyes flickering over your face like he’s searching for something. “i think i do,” he mutters. “don’t you?”

your mind is racing, trying to make sense of this.

is he asking what you think he’s asking?

he’s a stranger. someone you barely know beyond a couple of conversations and an awkward encounter in a convenience store.

yet there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it hard to think straight.

“yes,” you hear yourself say before you can even process it.

his lips curve into a satisfied smile, and without another word, he leans in and kisses you.

the world seems to stop as his mouth meets yours. it’s not hesitant or soft; it’s urgent, as if he’s been wanting this for longer than the short time you’ve known him. his hands slide up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

your fingers clutch his shirt, feeling the heat of his body against yours. it’s messy and impulsive, and he doesn't even care that you’re both in the middle of a park, under the dim glow of the streetlights.

right now, all you can think about is him. the way he tastes, the way he kisses you desperately.

maybe you do need this distraction.

his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, letting the kiss deepen. his lips are soft, and you moan as if you're melting into the kiss. there's something about the way his mouth moves against yours; like he's been waiting to do this.

“wait—” you pant as pull back, your heart pounding against your ribs, trying to gather your thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he asks in a low voice, “what happened?”

“we're... we're outside,” you point out, glancing around.

he tilts his head, his brows raising slightly as if that’s the least of his concerns. “so?” his voice is low and almost teasing, like he finds your hesitation cute.

you let out a scoffing laugh, “what do you mean so?wee’re literally in a children’s park.” you gesture to the swings and slides nearby, deserted at this hour but still... it’s a public space.

he pauses for a second, “my car’s parked just over there,” he nods towards a sleek vehicle at the edge of the park, his lips curling into a smile. “we could, uh... relocate or—”

before you can even process that, your curiosity gets the better of you. “wait— you have a car?” you cut in, a little surprised.

he chuckles. “yeah, and it’s a pretty one at that.” there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s enjoying this back-and-forth with you, like it’s some sort of game.

you sigh, still trying to wrap your head around the craziness of this entire situation. “okay,” you murmur, almost to yourself, deciding to just go with it. what’s the worst that could happen?

he releases his grip on you, but only so he can grab your hand and guide you towards the car. the walk feels a little awkward now, a heavy tension hanging in the air. you're not sure what to say.

what’s the protocol for walking towards a car with a guy you’re about to hook up with?

as if sensing your nerves, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “come on, my car’s comfy. don’t worry,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. the way he’s holding your hand... it’s surprisingly tender, making it feel just a little less awkward.

when you reach the car, he opens the back seat door for you. you hesitate for a second, “you won’t, like, kidnap me or something, right?” you half-joke.

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “for someone who’s so aware of the things you shouldn’t be doing, you sure do them anyway,” he teases. his words send a shiver down your spine, both a warning and an invitation.

but you ignore that nagging voice in the back of your mind. instead, you climb into the seat and he follows you right away.

“why are you—” your words are cut off as he crashes his lips against yours, the urgency in his kiss making you lose your breath. one of his hands grips your waist, pulling you against him, while the other tangles in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head for better access.

the way his lips move against yours, hot and hungry, sends sparks shooting down your spine, and before you know it, you're moaning into his mouth, matching his intensity. your hands scramble to find something to hold onto, eventually locking behind his neck as if he's your lifeline.

“are we seriously gonna fuck in your car?” you gasp, your words shaky when he pulls away just enough to start trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer.

“no,” he breathes and sucks on a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing the skin before he soothes it with a slow lick. “just couldn’t stop myself,” he admits, voice low and breathy, and then his mouth is back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that makes your head spin.

your hands move restlessly over his broad shoulders, wanting to feel more, wishing his clothes were gone so you could touch him everywhere.

his hands roam your body like he's memorizing it, fingers pressing into the curves of your waist, teasingly brushing against your chest. each touch has you arching into him, wishing he'd just tear your clothes apart already.

it's all too good.

too overwhelming, and before you know it, five minutes have passed with the two of you tangled in each other. when he finally pulls back, panting, his lips are swollen and glistening. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath, both of you staring at each other in the dim light of the car.

he’s leaning back slightly, his hard on pressing against your thigh. it’s impossible not to notice how turned on he is, and it only makes your own arousal spike.

you're so fucking wet right now.

you’re laid back on the seat, eyes locked on him, watching the way he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back revealing his forehead.

“hotel? or my place?” he asks, trying to catch his breath “hotel’s just a minute away, but my place… well, it’s a bit further.”

you can practically see the options laid out in your mind like a checklist.

a) go to the hotel, have your fun, and slip away without looking back. no strings, no regrets. just a quick fuck and disappear like it never happened.

b) go to his place, let him fuck the shit out of you, see if he’s worth all this heat between your thighs. maybe wake up in his bed with his arms still wrapped around you... and if he's good enough, maybe get his number so it doesn’t have to be a one time thing.

you bite your lip, your decision already made before you even realize it.

“yours.”

the drive to his apartment is quick, the tension between you both barely held back. you're glad it’s late at night, because the two of you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other and you don't want anyone witnessing it.

the second you step into his apartment, the door slams shut behind you, and it's a scramble to rid each other of clothing. shirts are yanked off, belts undone, pants shoved down until you're both stumbling towards his bedroom in a mess of heated kisses and needy touches.

“o-oh fuck—yes baby, suck it just like that,” jungkook throws his head back, moaning, his breath ragged. he’s sprawled on the bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets. you're on your knees between his thighs, sucking him hard, your lips stretching around his thick length.

you glance up at him, eyes half lidded, watching the way his abs flex as he tries to keep himself steady. “shit... you look so fucking hot,” he rasps out, voice rough. his gaze darkens, and he pushes himself up, one hand threading through your hair.

“can you take it, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

you know exactly what he’s asking. you nod, barely managing it with your mouth full, and he smiles, almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming.

“good,” he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough on your hair. “tap me if it’s too much.” and with that, he starts moving his hips, fucking into your mouth with slow, deep thrusts.

you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, but you relax your throat, trying to take him in. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of him moving in and out, his groans echoing off the walls.

“fuck—you’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises, his voice thick and raspy, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, it forces a choked gasp from him, his hands instinctively tightening in your hair.

your eyes water, tears pooling at your lashes, but you don’t stop, even as your throat aches. your nails dig into his firm thighs, using them for balance as he fucks your throat. you want to show him just how much you can handle.

“i’m gonna—” he grunts, voice rough and strained. a hot burst of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow it all, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. his chest heaves as he watches you, mesmerized, as your tongue slides slowly along his length, cleaning up every drop. his jaw clenches, the sight clearly driving him wild.

“get up,” he orders, voice still a little breathless, and you obey instantly, letting him pull you to your feet. “on the bed, all fours.”

you get onto the mattress, positioning yourself as he asked. there's a moment of stillness as you feel his gaze roam over your exposed body. your heart races, anticipation building as you wait for his next move.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath is hot against your soaked core. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft, breathy moan escaping your lips. his mouth envelops your pussy, sucking and licking with an rhythm that makes your thighs tremble.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath before moving up, positioning himself between your legs. his right hand trails upward, skimming over your skin until his fingers brush against your lips.

instinctively, you part them, taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them. the low chuckle that escapes him tells you just how much he enjoys it.

“you like that, hm?” he asks. you moan softly around his fingers, your response muffled but desperate.

he withdraws his fingers, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. leaning down, he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly until your back is against his chest. you can feel his length pressing against your ass, you move your hips a little causing a little friction.

his hands slide over your breasts, kneading them with just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

you melt into his touch, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his fingers pinch and roll your hardened nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“want me to fuck you, baby?” his voice is soft against your shoulder as he places feather light kisses along your skin. he nips gently, his hands never stopping their teasing, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes when his fingers pinch just a bit harder.

“y-yes,” you mewl, voice shaky with need, “fuck me, jungkook.”

he squeezes your breasts harder, a groan rumbling from his chest as he sinks his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder.

“yeah? can i fuck you raw?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“yes,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whimper. “p-please.”

his grip on you loosens slightly, and he leans back to look at you, his eyes dark, like he's stopping himself. “you sure?” he asks, one last time, his tone gentle but urgent.

you nod quickly, breathless. “i’m on the pill,” you assure him, and the tension in his shoulders eases.

“fuck. okay, bend over.”

without hesitation, you resume your previous position, arching your back and presenting yourself to him. he groans softly at the sight, his hand sliding down to rub slow circles over your entrance.

he teases you, slipping a finger inside, making you moan softly as your walls flutter around him. he withdraws his finger, watching the way you clench around nothing, desperate for more.

grabbing his cock, he taps the swollen tip against your slick hole. you whine, impatience leaking into your voice, “just fuck me already.”

a smirk curves his lips, and without another word, he pushes into you.

you grip the sheets tightly as you take him in fully, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. a choked gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezing shut at the delicious burn that quickly morphs into pleasure.

each inch fills you so completely, leaving you breathless, your body trembling at the feeling.

“fuck,” he groans behind you, his voice low and rough, a sound that makes your toes curl. “you’re so tight, baby... taking me so fucking good.” the words are almost a growl, filled with barely restrained control as he fights the urge to pound into you.

his hands move to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks, steadying himself as he sinks even deeper.

your moans spill freely now, raw and needy, muffled slightly by the pillow you bury your face into. he starts to move, slowly at first, pulling out just enough before thrusting back in, his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

the rhythm is torturously slow, each stroke making you whimper, your back arching even further in a silent plea for more.

“please... more,” you manage to gasp out, your voice shaky. “jungkook, i need it.. need you.”

“yeah?” he rasps, picking up the pace, thrusts becoming sharper, each one driving you into the mattress. “want it harder, baby? want me to ruin you?”

“yes.. yes mmph- more!” you cry, your voice breaking as he slams into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. your nails claw at the sheets, the friction of his hips against your ass making stars dance behind your eyelids.

his fingers snake around to your front, finding your swollen clit, and he rubs it in tight, quick circles. your entire body jolts, your hips bucking back against him as you let out a loud, broken moan.

“oh, fuck, that’s it, that's a good fucking girl,” he hisses, feeling you clench around him, your walls fluttering as you near the edge.

“you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he growls against your ear, bending over you now, his hot breath fanning against your neck. he bites down on your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to drive you wild.

“you're gonna cum like the good girl you are?”

“yes n-ngh.. i’m close.. s-so close,” you whimper, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. his fingers press harder against your clit, his thrusts turning frantic.

“cum with me, baby” he demands, his voice thick and commanding. that’s all it takes. your body shatters. your vision going white as you scream his name. your walls squeeze him so tightly, milking his cock, and with a deep, guttural groan, he loses himself too, spilling inside you as his thrusts grow sloppy.

he stays buried inside you, his chest heaving against your back, both of you panting heavily. he leans down to press soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.

after everything that just happened. you've made up your mind.

you're definitely going to ask for his number.

a/n: erm.. don't get into random strangers cars !! haha

[searching18888]

Trying to find a fic

I read this a long time ago so if you know of a similar fic but the details don't fully match please send anyway! I'm also just looking for fics similar to this premise in general lol

So basically reader is the only member of the batfamily who is kept out of all the vigilante stuff. This might have been from another fic but I think the reader was Damian's twin or just his sister, and they had a tense relationship (mostly because of him being himself lolllll). They end up being ignored/neglected by everyone except Alfred. Their relationship with the others isn't hostile, it's just nonexistent.

The fic starts with the reader being a senior, they go to Gotham Academy and I believe Alfred remarks that it's their eighteenth birthday at some point in the limo to school. Bruce develops an interest in developing a relationship with them for some reason, and joins the reader on the limo ride to school. Either during this ride or during a conversation with Alfred it comes up he doesn't know the reader is a senior/turning eighteen and thought they had some more years of school yet. I believe this ride also takes places during the last day of school for the reader which may be what prompts this comment.

Fast forward to reader moving out/attending college or something (once again Bruce isn't aware until he's like "hey where's Y/N" and Alfred reminds him). Reader is kind of hanging out with one of the batboys and spends a lot of time at the library. I'm 70% sure it's Jason but it could possibly be Dick. Reader asks him to drop them off at the library at one scene.

Switch to the batboys during their vigilante activities trying to solve a string of crimes (robberies I believe?). They don't know it at the moment but the villain they're hunting is the reader and the reason they've been at the library so often is they're researching these crimes. There's some kind of event like a homecoming or prom or something where you dress up and during the reveal the reader is all dressed up and steals some kind of crown I believe? I'm gonna be honest I don't 100% remember what the context is but they definitely dress up and definitely steal something. Later when trying to figure it out the reader gets brought up and Jason/the batboy they've sort of befriended is like "y/n? i took them/have been taking them to the library a lot" or something.

The chapter comes to a close and they find out its the reader and everyone is like 'wtf'. I believe this is a multi chapter series and I also remember the writer's blog being dark themed.

[heartsofminds]

i'm calling just to hear you scream - part ii.

“Free means “fuck.” She’s gonna fuck us, Sugar and you don’t even fucking care!” or it's your first day at The Bear (or is it The Beef still?), Richie is convinced you're a fed, and Carmen may or may not hate your guts.

A/N: well surprise, surprise! here's part two of i'm calling just to hear you scream. definitely more of a filler chapter before everything starts to implode and get more serious and downright grimey, but i hope you enjoy!

The shadows created by the awnings of the sandwiched businesses chill your bones while the Sun makes your backside sticky beneath your sweater and light spring jacket. Chicago is beautiful in March, but always full of surprises.

One day comes an icy snowstorm that adds to the gray slush collecting on the side of the street and the next a blissful sixty-one degrees that gaslights everyone into walking around with shorts on because it’s just “so warm.” 

You can’t revel in the tranquility for much longer. Not when you’re pretty sure you’re coming up on the address Natalie emailed you two nights ago. 628 West Wager Street sits prettily in between an old antique shop and a Chicago Cubs merchandise store that has definitely seen better days. Despite no sign hanging on the window and the glass completely shielded from outside eyes by brown butcher paper, it somehow looks like it belongs; the younger sibling of a once booming and vibrant street scene. 

Being outside of the door is a feeling that fills you with both anxiety and uncertainty. You know you’re in the right spot but you don’t feel like you are; not when you can’t hear any noise coming from any of the three storefronts that stand in front of you. You’re made even more uneasy when you see the five by eleven sheet of insulated foil wrap with capital letters written in Sharpie taped to the front window. 

The Beef is closed. Thank you for your patronage. The Bear is coming. 

The nerves start to hit you even harder. All Natalie had mentioned over the phone and through your frequent emails have been about needing help with a restaurant. The name of the aforementioned restaurant had never been disclosed and its location remained a mystery until this morning when you got an email with the unspoken directions that Apple Maps would omit. There’s nothing more embarrassing than doing a consult and not knowing any of the details. It’s even more humiliating when the feeling of being made a fool seems inevitable. 

Your arm refuses to move forward and yank the door open in case this is some sick prank. You half expect Becca to be hiding behind it with the “good ole boys” crew that is full of Senior and Junior partners at your law firm; their only purpose is to further humiliate and belittle you more than they already do on a day-to-day basis at the office. 

It’s a ridiculous thing to think that someone would care enough about you and your shame to do that, you know, but it’s the only way you can rationalize your brain warning you not to touch that door. Your eyes catch your reflection and suddenly you want the concrete sidewalk to swallow you whole. You take in how your navy blue pantsuit engulfs you and how your work bag seems to get heavier and heavier as it hangs solemnly at your side. 

You don’t belong here. 

The itch to turn around and run back to the train as fast as you could possibly manage crosses your mind, but the shattering of the quiet oasis around you interrupts that thought before it can materialize. 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up!” you hear a voice scream.

“Do you ever realize you don’t know fuckin’ everything!” another one screams back. 

The sound of a wall being hit accompanies the shouts as well as numerous other voices joining in on the cacophony the verbal altercation created. 

Call it a hunch (or just having enough common sense), but you definitely are in the right place and there are certainly people inside. The scary part of not knowing is over. The absolutely horrifying part of having to see where you fit in is pending. 

Your fingers grip the solid metal door handle and you rip it open. The resounding squeal it emits makes you want the floor to swallow you up whole. The chaos of screaming shouting and yelling start to pause before the sound of the sledgehammer hitting the wall a second time interrupts it and sends it into a full frenzy once again. 

The world seems to be moving in slow motion and your words are caught in your throat. You’ve never seen chaos like this before, but you’ve definitely felt the way you’re currently feeling every day for the past five years. Faces you don’t know, a nagging feeling of responsibility, a dire need to do the best job you possibly can and not fucking up and not pissing anyone off, and yet no idea where to even start. 

“If I already fuckin’ told you you were tearing the wrong wall down why the actual fuck would you do it again!” a strained scream bounces off the walls. 

You jolt at the echo. The current lack of infrastructure and an igloo of scaffolding tarp amplifies the sound by three thousand decibels. 

He can’t see your face because his back is turned toward you, but the temperament and the mop of curls tell you the obvious. Carmen. Natalie’s brother and shareholder that she had subtly warned you about in a half-joking, half-not tone when you had spoken on the phone the other day. 

“To prove a fucking point,” a lankier taller man scoffs back. Richie. Their cousin, not cousin (which you don’t really understand, but you chalk it up to a deduction that not everything is meant to make sense), and the absolute bane of Natalie and Carmen’s existence at times. She had also warned you about him on the phone. “Even if I’m wrong you never fail to always think you’re fucking right like a – like a fucking baby! You walk around here pissed the fuck off and fucking changing everything and makin’ it everyone else’s fucking problem –” 

Carmen lunges at him and two other men from the crowd almost pick him up from the floor to prevent him from tackling Richie. 

“Everyone else’s prob – You’re my fucking problem! You’re my fuckin’ problem and all you know how to do is fuck up and make everything fuckin’ worse!” 

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuckin’ pissy ass pamper cry baby.” 

Carmen tries his hardest to wrangle himself out of the hold he’s currently in. Sydney, a genius and the Lord’s prayer (according to Natalie, also), clumps herself near him as he remains twisting and turning like a toddler fighting a parent’s protective hold through a temper tantrum. 

“Chill, chill, chill. Stop. Just stop,” she gently coos. Her hand claps the shoulder of one of the men holding him up. You can see the gentle squeeze it gives to provide silent comfort, but you wonder if the softness in her tone is to deescalate the situation or to help regulate herself. 

He’s dragged out to what you can assume is the backdoor and it slams with a cadence that demands attention. A sharp thud can be heard five seconds later accompanied by various, “Yo, what the fuck, dude?”’s. 

He must have kicked the door. He definitely kicked the door. 

Your body continues to stay frozen in the bare entryway. The survival skills you’ve adapted kick into full effect. Don’t make a move. Don’t make a sound. Do not piss anyone else off. 

The aftermath of commotion and chatter fills the room and leaves no space for you. You have half the mind to put your hand back on the handle and dip out before anyone notices. You’ve been here all of three minutes and you feel as if it’s been a year. The shouting and the hurtful insults and the frequent use of the word “fuck” send a blush down your chest. You’re embarrassed because you’re starting to think that you can’t handle it. You’re not good enough. You’re not strong enough. 

What the fuck were you thinking even coming here? 

The push of your thigh against the door causes the rusted metal hinge to groan again. The sound is indiscernible from relief or protest; staying or leaving. Either option makes your skin crawl. The sudden redirection of eyes casts a dome of silence and everyone zones in on the thing that wasn’t there before: you. 

No one moves and for a second, you don’t think anyone blinks. The realization of someone infiltrating a rather robust and rage-filled argument occurring at nine in the morning sinks in before the vein of awkwardness begins to bleed. You know the logical thing to do is to introduce yourself; to force a plaster-like smile on your face and extend your hand and ask how everyone is doing. 

But you don’t. 

You can’t. 

Natalie can feel the alarm bells going off in her head when her eyes float to your figure. You look worried; a flash of pensiveness and subtle fear floods your facial expression and she starts to panic. Opening a restaurant is beyond humbling and asking Becca Cantor for her help was a last-ditch effort to contain the smallest bit of confidence she had left. Besides, she would rather roll over and die than you to walk out that door, tell Becca about how they’re sledgehammering walls with a gang of lunatics at the restaurant, and somehow get a call from Uncle Jimmy that turns into a stern talking to about how they’re just dicking around with his money and how it’s a waste of time. 

You absolutely, positively can not walk out that door. 

She’ll make sure of it. Even if it’s the last thing she ever fucking does. 

Her feet carry her faster than what her brain is aware of. Her eyes have to catch up with the scenery passing her in a blur as she walks up to you. Seeing her face calms you down in a way that is small but not unnoticed. She has kind eyes and a calm demeanor. This is the kind of client that gives you confidence. This is the kind of client that brings you joy. This is the kind of work you were made to do. 

“Oh, hey! You found it!” she cheers. Her hand brushes against your bicep in a welcome. 

The pool of spit inside your mouth gets swallowed as you curtly nod. “Yeah! Yeah, I thought Apple Maps led me astray but I was definitely in the right spot.” 

Pretending not to notice the curious gazes behind your interaction proves difficult, but it’s not something you’re not used to. Working in an office means there’s always someone in your business and you always feel like you’re under constant surveillance. 

At least this time, the threat of humiliation seems considerably low. The obvious danger of being chased out of here with a sledgehammer is considerably high though. 

“How are you doing?” you ask quietly. A conversation of niceties always makes things less awkward and gives you some leeway for at least learning who the owners are of the staring eyes. 

“Yo, who the fuck is this, Suge?” Richie asks, wiping his plaster-covered hands on his shirt. His face still harbors a flush that had yet to dissipate. He also has kind eyes but you know from the moments you witnessed prior that he can turn his kindness off and on instantaneously. 

Natalie rolls her eyes and huffs. The damage control that she’s doing is not going to plan. She had grown up around cursing and incredibly forward questioning and knows that not everyone else had, and from the disastrous commotion you stumbled into five minutes prior and the way your eyes show more of the whites than the irises, the crudeness needs to take a backseat. 

At least enough of one to ensure that you’re not about to turn around and bolt out of that shitty ass door that she had been bitching at Richie to oil for the past two months. 

She moves to stand next to you and puts her arm around your shoulder. Natalie knows that the second they find out that you’re an attorney all hell will break loose. Something about accusing you of being “fed” and coming to rip the “fundamentals of democracy” out from under them brews in her mind and she gags a little at the thought of having to diffuse yet another shit show before ten in the morning. 

The unwelcome taste of acid tinging the back of her tongue makes her take a mental note to ask her OB about being so nauseous. 

“This is our attorney,” she starts and begins to ignore the groans coming from the crowd in front of her, “She’s gonna help us with some...things.” 

Richie scoffs and throws his hands up. He wipes at his nose with his forearm and some of the plaster residue makes a home on the tip of it. 

“You brought a fuckin’ fed in here, Sugar?” His eyebrows rise to his hairline and it doesn’t take a genius to know how he doesn’t want you here at all. “I told you I had this under wraps. The fuck do we need a fed up our ass for if we’re just tearin’ down walls and shit.” 

You sigh and Natalie can feel the anxiety radiating off of you. She’s starting to absorb it, but the fight in her to make this right persists. 

“Well, first of all, the fed has a fucking name, you dick,” she snaps, “And you’ve been slinging beef sandwiches your entire adult life so the fuck do we need you for?”  

Richie exhales as the rest of the people around him start to snicker. 

“Damn, Papa. You need to pipe down,” whom you guess is Tina from some of the people who had been mentioned to you through the phone calls (and there’s so many goddamn people in here for it to be out of business and you’re sure you’ll need to start doing flashcards every night to remember who they are). 

“Thanks, T,” Natalie and Richie chirp in unison; their voices capturing the different emotions of annoyance and triumph differently. 

Some more harsh words and excited chatter served with a side of frustration occurs and you’re so checked out that you don’t even realize that no one has asked you directly what your name is. The animated voices and exaggerated body movement swell the room even more; pushing you outside and three blocks away so vividly through emotion that you have to check to make sure your feet haven’t moved. 

No one has asked who you are and which firm you came from. No one has asked how you are. And still, no one has asked you what your name is. 

They continue to talk and joke and yell and you start to feel yourself shrinking in. 

Smaller, smaller, smaller. 

Gone. 

You know that it’s not personal. It’s almost never personal, but the mind tends to conjure up ideas when it can’t make sense of the feelings it detects from the body. 

Maybe it had just gotten thrown to the wayside. Maybe they were making room for direct conversation with you to occur later when things weren’t so awkward. Maybe they don’t hate you and think you’re the worst and may actually like you.

But then maybe they don’t. 

Maybe they just don’t give a fuck. 

In your catatonic daze, you hear an offhanded remark about how you look like a high schooler who just waltzed in after a Model UN convention and that Natalie has no idea what the fuck she was doing. The laughter that follows highlights those who actively agree and the agitated huffs of frustration show those who silently concur. 

In any other circumstance, you probably would have joined them in laughter or returned a smart-alecky response or accompanied them in making fun of you, but this isn’t a different circumstance. You’re in a construction zone on a Saturday morning, overdressed with a pantsuit on, and have not a clue on how hospitality law works, and the facts leave a non-disputable conclusion. 

You’re the odd one out and you can’t get an invite to be even no matter how hard you try.

You truly don’t belong here. 

“Richie, have you ever considered that maybe we need to do it right this time?” Natalie asks, her tone dripping annoyance, “Her being here clearly doesn’t affect your ability to be an idiot, so you can go fuck yourself because she’s staying.” 

Richie narrows his eyes at her. His lanky limbs flail as he attempts to make his emotions seen without having to verbalize them. Natalie has had it with his stubbornness and she knows that she might be puking her guts out in about fifteen minutes. The great debate has to have an ending in sight soon. 

Besides, she knows that Richie’s apprehension toward the whole thing is because he’s resisting change and trying to get under Carmen’s skin. It doesn’t matter how great she knows her brother can make something. Richie will try and put a pin in it before it becomes something he no longer recognizes. 

Just like their dad. Somewhat like Mikey. Especially like Carmen (even though she knows he doesn’t recognize his own stubbornness yet). 

“Jesus, that’s fuckin’ horse shit if I’ve heard it,” he sneers, “And I happen to be very intelligent and very charming – and FYI – I also know how a fucking business works and all this “foo-foo,” “high dining”, microgreen shit –” 

She holds up her hand to him and rolls her eyes. She’s surprised she hasn’t been able to see the back of her skull yet. “It’s fine dining, but whatever.” 

“Fuck all the way off. Fine dining, microgreen shit is a dishonor to our roots and I will not stand for it.” 

Natalie’s hand smacks down on a metal rolling table with a rusty toolbox and a wrinkled pad of Post-it notes. The sounds of clanky metal snap everyone’s attention to her. Natalie was never mean. She was always sugary sweet and ooey gooey; trying to be in everyone’s good graces at all times and forever attempting to fix things before they had the potential to be broken. But she could also brush the sugar off and leave a bitter and tongue-curdling hurt if she got pushed to her limit. 

She’s not had a full night’s rest since she got asked (more like begged, but she’s not one for bragging) to be their project manager, she can’t bare to stomach anything nowadays without wrestling the urge to puke it back up, and the fucking pregnancy hormones are filling her with unexplained bouts of rage as of late. 

She is not one to be fucked with and Richie knows that. He just always wants to poke the bear. 

“Well that’s fuckin’ sad that your “roots” are tied to an Italian beef shop, but that doesn’t change my mind whatsoever,” she pushes past him with more force than she intended, guiding you along with her to wherever she had in mind, “You can bitch and moan and holler all you want but you’re not the one losing your fucking mind over fucking paperwork so whatever other unhelpful and extremely negative shit you have to say can get shoved up your ass and you can get fucked because I’m not putting up with it.” 

Richie is rendered speechless – a phenomenon that does not occur very often. 

She turns to you and gives you a friendly smile. Her hand rests softly above yours that are bawled into anxious fists. “Let’s go into the office so we can talk some more. Are you okay with that?” 

You’re still frozen in equal parts shock and fear; too scared to say no. 

“Umm. . .yeah. Yeah, we can go to the back,” you swallow and she brisks you away to what you assume is where all the paperwork is housed that they need help making sense of resides. 

You arrive outside of a closed wooden door and Natalie steps in front of it, her arms coming down to hug the hinges of it in a way that makes you slightly worried. “So I know that you’re not a hospitality attorney and I know that you’re doing this for free and you’re totally at liberty to say you want out the second you say the word,” she speaks softly. 

You know that she’s starting to panic. Your feelings and her feelings are starting to merge into one; two halves of the same whole – people pleasers. 

“But it’s. . .a lot and I don’t know even know where to start and this is legitimately driving me insane so –” 

Her anxiety starts to break your heart. The pang in your chest makes your decision for you. No matter how uncomfortable you are, you know you need to do the right thing out of the kindness of your own heart. 

“No, it’s fine!” you cut her off, “I’ll take a look and we’ll figure it out. Nothing you have here is too much. I can promise you that.” 

Ocean blue irises engulf you with sentiment and appreciation through their gaze. Natalie’s shoulders sag before her hand finds the gold doorknob. A deep breath adds to the noise of chatter and squeaks of the faulty fire alarm in the hallway. The oak door opens with a wheeze and a groan; stuck because of the swell its wood causes from the constant fluctuation of temperatures in Chicago. 

“Well,” she begins, “Here it is.” 

The mountains of cardboard boxes all labeled with acronyms and doodled with nonsense send the pit in your stomach down to your toes and through the center of the Earth. 

Holy fucking shit. 

Natalie notices your shock and starts to go back into “fix-it” mode. She hasn’t eaten at all today, but she figures that the emotions bubbling up and down at a fixed and constant rate are what fill her insides and are making her nauseous. Bile starts to make its way up her throat but she forces it back down. 

She’ll be damned if this goes even more sour than how she knows it has. 

“It’s a lot and it’s more sorting things and making them make sense than doing actual work? Like you’re gonna be doing work but it’s not rocket science. . . Not that being an attorney isn’t hard! My husband is one and I. . .need to shut up now,” she word vomits. Despite the apparent fact that she’s panicking, the sound of her voice is soothing and the gentle hand she places on the junction between the base of your neck and your shoulder does wonders to ground you. “And there’s no rush to have all of it done. It’s a work at your own pace kinda thing?” 

You both know that she’s fibbing about the last part. 

The frantic text at 11 PM last week and the hour-long phone call debriefs you had yesterday and three days before say otherwise. This is her compromising and making her needs smaller. This is her being like you and you being like her; being like each other. Digging yourself into holes to help others no matter the effort – no matter the pain. 

“No, I’m doing this because I want to. Just let me know exactly what you need and we can get to it as soon as possible.” 

You know that you must have said the golden word because as soon as the statement leaves your mouth, Natalie whips out her phone and starts reading off a list she had compiled of all things that have some link to the legal world. 

Contracts. Permits. Tax revenue sheets. Paystubs. Workers Compensation. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. City Ordinances. Chicago royally fucking anyone who dares to open a business, really. 

The sad part is that this should scare you. This should make you want to run out of here and never look back and purposely take the long way to get somewhere if you knew where you were headed would cross paths with the restaurant. 

But you don’t do any of that, and the buzz of finally doing something that you know is helping people overpowers the migraine of stress you can feel looming over you the second you agree to help them out. 

“You’re amazing,” she says, eyes twinkling with admiration. 

Your cheeks turn a shade of baby pink that you hope she can’t see. You’ve never taken well to flattery. 

Richie’s knuckles give a soft knock on the door and it opens before either of you can think to welcome another presence. His gaze finds both of you fist-deep into the first box labeled “Cocksuckers: For IRS - 1987.” You already know that he’s not related to the Berzattos by blood, but the beautiful blue eyes make you question that fact. He gives a sheepish smile almost to apologize for his interruption and you think he’s about to apologize before he opens his mouth and says, “Suge, your dashing baby brother is bout to blow a fuse because the fed is here.” 

Natalie stops what she’s doing. Her hands come to rest on the flimsy cardboard box and she throws her head back to eye the ceiling. If she can count the row of six vertically, maybe she can slow her breathing and calm herself down enough to spare Carmy the chewing out of a lifetime. 

One. 

“Sugar!” 

Two. 

“Get the fuck off me!” 

Three. 

“I said get the fuck off me! I need to see my fuckin’ sister!” 

Four. 

“Sugar!” 

Five. 

“Leave me the fuck alone!” 

Six. 

“Natalie!” 

Her brother appears in front of her disheveled and angry. Even though she’s only five years older than he is, she always sees him as the little baby she used to put in her strollers and push around for years until he got too big and too “grown” to think playing with his older sister was cool. Years spent with him also meant years studying him; knowing his ticks down to the smallest one and learning how he expresses every emotion. 

It was the only way she survived living in that house until she was eighteen. 

Dealing with an angry Carmen is nothing in comparison to dealing with an angry Michael or even attempting to console a slightly agitated mother. 

Besides, Carmy’s anger, while often misguided and very explosive, was never unexpected. He always has a tell and there’s always a few seconds before he completely comes unglued. Adult temper tantrums are shit shows, and quite frankly she’s fed up with having to diffuse one of his every couple of hours as of late. 

Her face starts to fall when she sees Carmen’s left eye begins to create that deep crinkle it does when he gets pissed. He starts to wrinkle his nose and she knows that he’s about to start screaming. 

Richie lets out a whistle before pushing Carmen’s head in a playful yet agitated manner. Before his hand can be swatted at, he jumps out of the way and joins in on a distant conversation about his daughter’s last dance recital. 

He has a smug grin on his face that Carmen wants nothing more than to slap off him. He knew that touching him would provoke him even more.  

Richie always has to poke the bear. 

Always. 

Carmen tries to contain his anger the best he can. Even though he’s totally against the idea of having you in the building, he knows there’s jackshit he can do about it now. Sydney said yes, Natalie sought you out, and Uncle Jimmy thought the idea was brilliant. The vote was three against one and he knows that all he can do is go fuck himself. So much for everyone promising not to make decisions about the restaurant without his okay. 

It’s not like his credit will be the one that’s fucked if this place turns to shit. 

His arm stretches to hold the side of the door’s hinge and supports his body weight as he leans to the right. “You hired a fucking attorney and didn’t tell me?” he snaps. His face pinches in a way that brings his nose, eyes, and mouth closer together; a face their mom used to make before she came totally unglued. 

You have your back turned toward the door he’s looming in. Something about being targeted makes you want to be blind to it; to shut your eyes as tightly as you can and will it away. You know that the way he’s acting has everything to do with him and nothing to do with you, but you can’t help it. When you feel out of place, every action to push you further out feels personal. 

“She’s doing it for free,” Natalie scoffs, putting a lid back on one of the boxes and crossing her arms over her chest. She would offer up more information, but what would be the use if Carmy is as wound up as he is? 

“Free means “fuck.” She’s gonna fuck us, Sugar, and you don’t even fucking care!” he screeches, seemingly uncaring that you’re right in front of him and that he’s biting his sister’s head off as if it’s nothing. 

You start to pull files out of the boxes faster than you were before. The distraction is needed because you know that if you listen too intently to what else is being said, you’ll start internalizing it later. 

Nothing with you. Everything with him. Nothing with you. Everything with him. 

“No. She is not gonna fuck us,” she pushes a finger into his chest and her nostrils flaring, “You’re gonna fuck us because you’re being so stubborn and stupid and can’t have a goddamn conversation like an adult.” 

His chest pushes deeper into his sister’s finger. “You calling me a baby? You calling me a fucking baby?” 

Carmen usually isn’t one to pick a fight in his everyday life, but once he gets started he refuses to back down. The rational part of his brain knows that he’s going overboard but he can’t help himself. The rage inside has nowhere to go and this whole thing is really pissing him off. He’s so fucking sick of everyone acting like he’s too immature and irresponsible to handle things.

Natalie’s finger comes out to become a full palm. “Well then stop the yelling. Stop the pissy pamper attitude. Stop wasting our fucking time and just admit that you’re way over your fucking head and don’t know everything.” 

Carmen balls his hands into fists and licks his lips to prevent him from saying something really fucking mean. He knows that Natalie is just trying to help but she always is, and it fucking sucks when she always saves the day even when he doesn’t want her to. The restaurant was supposed to be theirs; supposed to be all him and Mikey and everyone who made them into the people they are. It was never supposed to be his. It was never supposed to be his when he has not a goddamn clue what he’s doing and Natalie driving herself borderline insane trying to proactively fix everything before it turns to shit. 

He doesn’t know what to say because she’s right. Sugar is always right and Carmen is always wrong and he wishes Michael was here to balance them out; to add a third option so it wasn’t so split. 

But he’s not here. He won’t be here. He never really was here. 

“Fuck!” he yells at the top of his lungs. 

“Fuck!” Natalie shouts back. 

Argument over. 

His shoes slide on the floor with ease and he tries to steady his breathing. His arms let go of the door frame and his head hangs with the dissatisfaction of still housing a boulder of anger. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he whispers, voice growing smaller as he walks away. A loud clash of hollowed metal is heard shortly after. “Fuck!” 

“Punching the lockers doesn’t get rid of the fact you’re a little bitch, Cousin.” 

Richie has to poke the bear. 

Always.

[nshmuras]

annoying ~ lhs

sypnosis : you just moved and came to your brothers school and your known as a chatterbox. your a freshman and you ended up crushing on your brothers best friend, lee heeseung who is the strict student council and sadly ... he's a senior. and you can't date seniors can you?

features : sunghoon enha , chaewon lsfm , rei ive.

genre : best friends sister trope , yapper x listener , angst + fluff (some suggestiveness)

pair : college senior student council!hee x college freshman fem!reader

chapter(s) : ONE 2 3 4

To say heeseung was tired of being your brother’s friend was an understatement, he was sick of it.

All your brother did was boss him around all damn day and force him to babysit a chattering little girl; which, if you didn’t know, was you.

his temper wasn’t bad or anything, no. he was perfect at keeping himself in check and not letting little things tick him off.

But somehow when you came around and opened your big mouth while staring up at him with pretty eyes, he always had a hint of aggravation and something else hidden underneath that he just couldn’t put his finger on.

Thats why today, when he told you to be quiet and you obliged with a sad pout, he sighed.

The silence helped him think of course, but it wasn’t the damn silence.

it was you for fucks sake.

well.. you weren’t doing anything anymore but he couldn’t help but get annoyed just by staring at your pouty lips.

"You know what ... you can talk. i dont want to see you pout or whatever."

The words had left to quickly, but when he glanced at your big smile and the way you immediately turned into a yapping machine, something made him feel like that was worth it.

——————

the past few days after the incident went surprisingly well.

no stress, no signs of you, no signs of your brother.

Until one day that was ruined.

student council was kicking his ass more than usual, calling him for dumb things like someone vaping or a lost bookbag.

all the stress crashed down all on him in one day. leaving him a ball of angered nerves.

what was WAY worse was he had to walk you home today due to your brothers busy schedule with basketball, why did that idiot always have to leave you with him?

he had been listening to your story about something in class he couldn’t even pretend to care about and it was getting tiresome.

Clearly, you saw his face and spoke up. “Oppa? whats wrong with—“

but he immediately cut you off and yelled, his voice getting louder and harsher.

"Do you seriously not understand how much you're getting on my nerves? You can't seem to keep your mouth shut, it's like you're completely oblivious to how loud and irritating you are. You're just so.. so DAMN ANNOYING."

He paused and took a deep breath, trying to control his anger after lashing out.

he rubbed his temple and felt his veins popping under his skin, making everything around him spin.

suddenly, he heard sniffles, making him stiffen.

He whipped his head around and saw you crying. you were full on bawling, all cause of him.

before he could speak you rushed off down the street with your face covered in tears and a bit of snot, probably going the wrong direction if you didn’t think straight.

after all these years of being beside since you were little up until now, he promised your brother he wouldn’t upset you.

yet here he was, watching you rush off with tears.

Fuck… your brother was definitely gonna chew him out when he saw you.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

A few questions about Don’t Call Me Kid (my obsession 🤩🤩🤩):

1. What argument did Rafe and Carter have their senior year?

2. Has Rafe really always have feelings for reader? If so, why did he seem to be embarrassed by her when they were in high school?

3. Does Rafe understand reader’s high school experience? Like does he see now how much him being hot and cold to her and the others picking on her made her how she is now?

Omg thank you for these thoughtful questions! Sorry it took me so long to reply, I typed out a whole thesis paper and then my app crashed and I lost it 😩

Gonna put my answers under the cut because there’s some spoilers for the final chapters 🫶

1. There will be a flashback to the argument in chapter 7! It’s a big piece of the puzzle that reader is missing which gives more context to how Rafe really felt about her in high school.

2. I don’t think it’s really a yes or no answer. Part of the reason I like writing for Rafe is that in any universe whether he’s a literal murderer or just an aggravating frat boy, nothing is ever black and white for him, even though he wants it to be. He wants to know if he’s a good person or a bad person, if he’s in love or if he’s not, if he’s making the right choice or the wrong one, but it’s never that simple and he gets frustrated, usually resulting in dumb, impulsive decisions. DCMK Rafe is going to reckon with that in the last few chapters and he’ll be more frustrated than ever that it isn’t so simple. Still I think at the end of the day, yes. He loves her and he always has, but his underdeveloped teenage boy brain was more concerned with being well liked and maintaining an image and at the end of the day, he chose that image over her.

3. I don’t think he does fully. I think he knows she liked him and he was certainly aware that she wasn’t considered “popular” but I don’t think he understands how his actions and the actions of others affected her long-term. He sees her now, self-assured and thriving and he doesn’t fully understand that something else could be going on under the surface (don’t worry, she’ll tell him 🙂‍↕️). If anything I think he’s actually jealous of her for being able to leave it all in her past when he feels like he carries everything around with him like a weight on his back (another trait of Rafe in every universe).

I’m hoping to tie a lot of these loose ends in the final few chapters! Thank you so much for reading and being invested in I these lil characters, they mean a whole lot to me 🙏💖

[nameless-ken]

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

I'm so excited about my brand new series! Not going to lie this first chapter was difficult for me to write. I have a serious battle with the dreaded delete button!

Anyways, hope you all enjoy this first chapter. It truly means a lot to me how excited you have been for this series <3 Comment below to be added to the taglist.

(Please reblog!!!)

Happy reading!

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: mostly angst with some slight rude remarks/bullying

Introduction to the series here!

Masterlist

(had this song in my head while writing this chapter)

In the tumultuous whirlwind of your teenage existence, embarking on your final year of high school, you've recently become aware of a singular truth: put full trust into the future that stretches far beyond the grasp of your present moment. Amidst the unexpected certainties that await, there's one you never anticipated – Billy Hargrove.

Billy reigns as the new king of Hawkins High, his “coronation” following the departure of Steve "The Hair" Harrington. He embodies the archetype of a manic attention-seeker, parading through the halls with a rotating carousel of girls, each week presenting a fresh face to the crowded hallways. It's a spectacle that leaves you utterly perplexed, unable to fathom the allure that draws countless girls into his orbit, only to be summarily discarded days later.

Thankfully, you've managed to maintain a safe distance from Billy and his band of lunatics, skillfully navigating the school corridors to avoid any unwanted encounters. While you share a few classes with his entourage, you've strategically positioned yourself in the front row, creating a buffer zone that shields you from their antics.

However, fate has a penchant for upheaval, as evidenced by your first detention – a consequence of arriving late to homeroom on three separate occasions. As you begrudgingly endure the mind-numbing 30-minute sentence after school, Robin, your loquacious best friend, offers her trademark blend of sympathy and sarcasm.

“They seriously gave you a detention for that? Couldn’t you pull the ‘I’m a straight A student who has never gotten in trouble before, please help dear little me this one time’ on them?” 

“Sadly no. I definitely tried to get out of it but they’ve been cracking down on a bunch of seniors for a couple weeks now.” 

“I'll wait up for you after band practice.” Robin slams her locker shut. 

“Thanks. See you later.” You turn to go down the opposite hallway than her. 

“Have fun troublemaker.” Robin pokes fun at your new “status” and you give her the finger back jokingly before you both wave and disappear down your own paths.

With a sigh, you resign yourself to the monotony of detention, selecting a seat near the window to alleviate the stifling atmosphere of confinement. The rules plastered on the board, NO FOOD. NO TALKING. STAY IN YOUR SEAT, serve as a constant reminder of the school’s misguided attempts at discipline.

You roll your eyes at the obnoxious nature of this situation. Why do schools think detention is ever going to work? You are put in a room for a certain amount of time with other delinquents. If anything you’re setting up a scenario for more trouble to happen. 

You pull out the current book you're reading, ignoring all the rest of the students who walk in. 

“Alright, welcome to detention. I have quite a lot of work to finish so I will be checking in periodically. When it’s your time to leave per your detention slip, come see me in my classroom and I’ll sign you out. Please respect the rules.” Mr. Thomson, the junior science teacher turned detention overseer, delivers a perfunctory address before retreating to his sanctuary, leaving the delinquent assembly to their own devices. 

Amidst the murmurs of discontent, Billy's name resonates like a discordant note, signaling the unwelcome intrusion of Hawkins High's reigning sovereign.

“Are we gonna flake out again Billy?” It didn’t even cross your mind about the possibility of being stuck in the same room as him.

“Can’t. I’ve skipped so many that they want to try and expel me.” 

“That'd be hardcore to see.” 

“Not to my dad it wouldn’t. Besides, it's not that bad. We have quite the sight sitting up there in the left corner today.” 

As Billy and his cohorts encroach upon your solitude, you bury your nose in your book in a feeble attempt to shield yourself from their presence. 

“Let’s have some fun.” You turn another page as footsteps echo towards you, stopping in front of your occupance. “I don’t believe we’ve ever met.” 

You don’t give him the time of day in reality but in your head, you’re fighting with the embarrassment and attention he’s solely giving you right now. Billy's charisma knows no bounds, his toothy grin and smug demeanor penetrate your defenses with effortless ease.

“I’m Billy but you may already know that. What’s your name, little mouse?” Billy rests his hands face down on your desk, leaning in so his face is parallel with yours. 

“Such a quiet thing.” Ignoring his advances proves to be an exercise in futility as Billy's persistent pestering chips away at your resolve, culminating in a daring theft of your cherished book. Yet, you refuse to grant him the satisfaction of a response, maintaining a stoic facade despite the numerous emotions raging beneath the surface.

“It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.” His friend to the right chimes in. 

“There’s some ways I can think of to change that.” You look up, narrow eyes meeting Billy’s. He sends you a wink with his usual smirk resting on his face. 

“Not going to say anything?” You can feel your heart racing, hating the way he’s making you feel, more annoying that he’s causing any kind of reaction from you. 

The sudden arrival of Mr. Thomson offers a reprieve from Billy's relentless pursuit. 

“Y/N, you’re free to go.” He grants you an opportunity to escape the confines of Billy's gaze. As you hastily gather your belongings and make your exit, Billy's parting words linger in the air as he whispers close to your ear, “See you around little mouse.” 

Feeling like you could breathe again, you're greeted by a note from Robin stuck to your locker.

I got called into work :( Call me later - Robin

You groan inwardly, the frustration of detention compounded by the looming task of finding a new ride home. Billy and his entourage have succeeded in tainting what was already shaping up to be a less-than-ideal day. You trudge outside, seeking solace in the cool breeze that sweeps through the schoolyard.

The pleasant Indiana weather offers a small comfort, prompting you to forgo the immediate need for a ride and opt instead for a beautiful stroll to clear your mind. As you walk, you reach into your bag and retrieve your trusty cassette player, the familiar weight of it grounding you in the midst of chaos running through your mind. You mentally curse Billy for crowding every corner of your mind. 

With a deft motion, you slipbthe cassette into the player, the soft click of the mechanism soothing in its familiarity. The strains of your favorite mix fill the air, providing a welcome distraction from the events of the day.

Lost in the music, you barely notice the passing cars, each one a blur against the backdrop of your thoughts. That is, until a certain familiar shade of blue catches your eye, the sudden halt of the vehicle drawing your attention like a magnet.

You turn, locking eyes with Billy as he idles beside you, his presence an unwelcome intrusion on your solitary walk. His voice cuts through the quiet, laced with an air of amusement that irritates your nerves.

“Didn’t think we’d meet again this soon little mouse.” he remarks, his smirk evident even from the confines of his car.

You pause your tape, the rhythmic pulse of the music abruptly silenced as you face him, a mix of irritation and annoyance evident in your expression.

"What do you want, Billy?" you questione, the weariness of the day showing in your voice.

He chuckles, the sound grating on your nerves as he leanes casually against the driver's side door, his gaze fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

"She speaks!" he exclaims, his laughter ringing out in the quiet of the street. "Need a ride somewhere?"

You bristle at the suggestion, your resolve hardening as you met his gaze with a steely glare.

"Not from you," you retort, tone firm and uncompromising.

“Oh come on, I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.” You rolle your eyes at his innuendo, a flush rising in your cheeks as you resist the urge to give in to his persistent advances.

"I don’t need your help, Billy.”

He relents, his expression shifting to one of mock innocence as he reaches over to open the passenger door, a silent invitation hanging in the air between you.

"Come on, little mouse," he urges, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Just this one time."

You hesitate, torn between pride and practicality, before ultimately capitulating to the inevitable. You step into the car, the door closing with a soft click behind you as you buckle yourself in.

"No speeding," you warn, your voice firm as Billy complies with a laugh, the car pulling away from the curb at a reasonable pace.

As you settle into the seat, a strange sense of calm washes over you, the tension of the day slowly dissipating in the confines of the car. Despite your reservations, there was an undeniable comfort in Billy's presence, a realization that both puzzles and unnerves you in equal measure.

“So are you going to tell me where you live or am I bringing you back to my house?” 

“I live near Curly. By that trailer park.” 

“Thought you lived more in the pristine area of the Wheelers and Harringtons.” 

“Well you thought wrong.” 

As Billy maneuveres through the streets, you couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort mixed with a strange intrigue. You steal glances at him, his confident demeanor and reckless charm contrasting sharply with your own cautious nature.

"Why'd you get detention anyway?" Billy's question broke the silence, his eyes briefly leaving the road to meet yours.

"Too many tardies to homeroom," you reply, keeping your answers short.

"That's it? Seems a bit harsh," he remarks, his tone genuinely curious.

You shrug, not wanting to delve into the details of your run-in with authority.

As the familiar landmarks of Hawkins pass by in a blur, you couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead, the uncertainty of the future looming large on the horizon. You couldn’t help but think if this would be the last time Billy would go out of his way to acknowledge you. 

Navigating the familiar streets of Hawkins alongside Billy, you're acutely aware of the palpable tension that simmers between you, a potent cocktail of unease but also lingering with intrigue. Though you strive to maintain a facade of indifference, the magnetic pull of Billy's presence proves undeniable, stirring emotions you've long sought to suppress.

You’re thankful the remainder of the drive passes by in a relative quiet, punctuated only by the loud rock n roll blasting from the radio. When you finally reach your destination, you find yourself hesitating before getting out of the car.

"Thanks for the ride," you say, surprising yourself with the sincerity in your voice.

Billy grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Anytime, little mouse."

With that, you step out onto the sidewalk, watching as Billy drives off into the distance. As you make your way towards your house, you couldn't shake the feeling that this chance encounter with Billy Hargrove was just the beginning of something you couldn't quite put your finger on.

Little did you know, the lines between your world and the world of Hawkins' resident bad boy were about to blur in ways you never imagined possible.

The following day, you find yourself once again navigating the familiar halls of Hawkins High, the events of the previous day still fresh in your mind. As you settle into your seat in English class, you can’t seem to shake the lingering sense of unease that accompanies your newfound proximity to Billy Hargrove.

It’s the most infuriating feeling and you hate yourself for allowing him to overtake your waking thoughts all throughout your night and morning. 

The classroom buzzes with the usual chatter of students, the mundane rhythm of academic life marching on despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. As the bell rang, signaling the start of class, Ms. Paterson enters the room with her characteristic air of authority, a stack of papers in hand.

"Good morning, class," she greets as she makes her way to the front of the room. "Today, we'll be embarking on a new project that will count towards a significant portion of your grade for this year."

A collective groan echoes through the room at the mention of yet another assignment, but Ms. Paterson pays it no mind.

"As part of this project, you'll be working in pairs to research and present on a book report of your choosing," she announces, her gaze sweeping over the room as she distributed the assignment sheets. "I'll be assigning partners randomly, so I expect everyone to work together cooperatively."

Everyone exchanges a wary glance around the classroom, the prospect of being paired with someone like Billy Hargrove looming ominously in the air. As Ms, Paterson began calling out pairs, you held your breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

"Y/N, you'll be paired with... Billy Hargrove.”

You felt a sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach as Billy's name reverberated through the classroom, the weight of his presence suddenly suffocating in its proximity. You glance in his direction, meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and resignation.

Billy, for his part, seemingly unfazed by the news, his trademark smirk firmly in place as he turned to face you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of class, you found yourself hesitating by your desk, unsure of how to broach the subject of the upcoming project with your enigmatic partner.

Billy saunters over to your desk with his characteristic swagger, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Well, looks like we're partners, little mouse" he remarks, his tone laced with amusement as he leans against the edge of your desk.

You fight to suppress the urge to roll your eyes at his cavalier attitude, instead meeting his gaze with a steely determination of your own.

"Yeah, looks like it," you reply as you gather your belongings.

Billy's smirk widens at your response, his gaze lingers on you with a mixture of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

"So, partner," he begins falling into step beside you as you both maneuver out of the classroom. "Where do you wanna meet up?"

You pause, considering your options carefully before responding. The thought of inviting Billy into your home sent a shiver of apprehension down your spine, but meeting up at his place didn't seem much better.

"How about we meet at the library?" you suggest, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. "It's neutral ground, and we'll have access to all the resources we need."

Billy raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, his smirk morphing into a grin of approval.

"Works for me," he nonchalantly responds. His tone surprises you at how agreeable it is and non combative about trying to get you into his bedroom. 

"4 pm. Don’t be late. I will not be waiting on you." You demand. 

“See you then, little mouse.” He winks, walking in the opposite direction. You groan internally at the use of that nickname he’s decided to give you. This is going to be a long year. 

As you and Robin sat on the bleachers in the gym during lunchtime, the rhythmic thud of basketballs hitting the court filled the air, punctuated by the occasional cheer from the squad as they practice their routines. Your eyes involuntarily flicker towards the court, where Billy’s shirtless form glistens with sweat under the fluorescent lights of the gym, his green gym shorts leaving little to the imagination as he moves with fluid grace among his teammates.

Robin's incredulous tone breaks through your reverie, snapping you back to reality.

"Wait, you got paired up with Billy for a project?" Robin exclaims, her disbelief palpable as she tore her gaze away from the court to focus on you.

You couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, the absurdity of the situation not lost on either of you.

"Yeah, tell me about it," you respond, taking a bite of your sandwich as you try to mask the unease that churns in your stomach. "I have no idea how I'm going to survive working with him for the rest of the year."

Caught in a moment of distraction, your eyes lock with Billy's across the expanse of the gym. Time comes to a stand still leaving only the two of you in a silent battle of uncertainty. For a fleeting moment, you found yourself captivated by the intensity of his gaze, the depths of his eyes holding a tantalizing promise of something unknown. It was a gaze that spoke volumes, conveying a myriad of emotions that stirs something deep and unexpected within you.

As if sensing the weight of your scrutiny, Billy's lips quirk into a knowing smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he holds your gaze with unwavering confidence. Before you could fully process the significance of the moment, the spell breaks as Billy turns his attention back to the game, seamlessly blending into the rhythm of the practice session as if the moment didn’t just happen. 

You tear your gaze away, a flush of embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you focus once more on your conversation with Robin. But despite your best efforts to dismiss the encounter, the feeling of Billy's piercing gaze lingers in the back of your mind, a silent reminder of the unexpected allure of the boy who has unwittingly become a sudden constant in your life now.  

Robin offers words of encouragement, her unwavering support a welcome balm to your frazzled nerves.

"Don't worry, Y/N," her voice a beacon of optimism in the darkness. "You're strong enough to handle anything that comes your way. Besides, who knows? Maybe working with Billy will be...interesting."

You couldn't suppress a snort of disbelief at her suggestion, the image of Billy's smug smirk and cocky attitude flashing through your mind.

"Yeah, interesting is one word for it," you remark dryly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's just hope I survive long enough to at least be there for graduation."

The town library stands as a quiet sanctuary amidst the bustling small town streets of Hawkins, its walls lined with rows upon rows of books that hold the promise of knowledge and adventure. As you step through the entrance, the familiar scent of old paper and ink washes over you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you sought out a secluded corner to await Billy's arrival.

Minutes tick by, each second stretching into an annoying eternity as you scan the quiet aisles for any sign of your partner. Just as you begin to resign yourself to the possibility of being stood up, a figure appears in the doorway, his presence commanding attention as he makes his way towards you with purposeful strides.

"Sorry I'm late," Billy greets, his tone apologetic as he approaches, a faint crease of worry marrying his brow. "Had to drop off my step-sister at home."

You nod understandingly, "No worries," offering him a reassuring smile as you gesture towards the table. "Let's get started."

Billy's expression softens at your words, a hint of gratitude shining in his eyes as you don’t try to pry. For a moment, the weight of his troubles seem to lift from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of camaraderie as you delve into the task at hand.

As you and Billy sift through the titles of various books, searching for the perfect one to base your project on, the atmosphere between you remains comfortably casual, the initial awkwardness of your partnership gradually melting away.

"So, any preferences on which book we should choose?" you ask, breaking the silence that has settled over the table.

"Not really," he replies with a casual shrug, his gaze flicking between the book covers with mild interest. "I'm good with whatever you want."

“Do you have a favorite book?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really finished one before.” Billy admits. 

“That’s quite sad to hear. What do you even do for fun?” 

“You think this is fun? Holding old pieces of paper about fake people and worlds. Seems like a waste of time to me.” 

You raise an eyebrow at Billy's dismissive remark, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Well, not everyone finds joy in reading, I suppose," you remark lightly, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite the underlying tension between you. "But there's something magical about getting lost in a good book, don't you think?"

Billy shrugs, his expression guarded as he leans back in his chair, his gaze fixes on the bookshelves before him.

"I guess," he replies with a noncommittal shrug, his tone tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I've just never really seen the appeal, you know?"

You nod in understanding, sensing the reluctance in his voice as he skirts around the topic of his own interests.

"Well, what about movies or music?" you press, eager to draw him out of his shell and uncover the layers of complexity that lie beneath his tough exterior. "Surely there must be something you enjoy doing in your free time."

Billy hesitates for a moment, his features softening slightly as he considers your question.

"I don't know, I guess I like playing basketball," he admits, a faint glimmer of enthusiasm shining in his eyes. "And...uh, sometimes I'll mess around with drawing when I'm bored."

You smile at his admission, a flicker of curiosity igniting within you as you get to witness a glimpse of the person behind the tough facade.

"That's cool," you reply, genuine warmth coloring your voice as you lean in closer, the distance between you suddenly feeling much smaller. "I didn't know you drew. Maybe you could show me some another time?"

"Yeah, maybe," Billy replies, his tone gruff and defensive, a faint edge of defiance creeping back into his voice. "But don't get your hopes up. It’s not that great"

You sense the walls he's built around himself, the layers of protection he's carefully constructed to shield himself from vulnerability. But beneath the tough exterior, you know there’s something raw and real, a flicker of longing that hints at the depth of his hidden desires.

"That's okay," you reassure him with a smile, your voice gentle as you reach out to bridge the gap between you. "We all have to start somewhere, right?"

"Yeah," he murmurs softly, a rare vulnerability creeping into his voice. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

“So, what about you, little mouse? Any other hobbies besides reading old stories?” A spark of enthusiasm ignites within you, quite surprised at his continuing of the conversation. 

"Yeah, actually," you begin, a smile spreading across your face as you lean forward, excitement bubbling within you. "I love photography. There's just something about capturing moments and memories with people and things I love that feels so special. I don’t know, I mostly do it for fun."

A mischievous glint sparks in Billy’s eyes as he leans in closer, his voice low and teasing. " I guess I'll have to watch out for those sneaky snapshots next time."

You can't help but roll your eyes at his playful banter, the Billy everyone around Hawkins knows showing back up. 

"Please," you retort with a playful scoff, feigning indifference as you brush off his teasing with a wave of your hand. "Like you're worth wasting film on."

Billy chuckles at your response, a grin spreading across his face as he leans back in his chair, his gaze lingering on you with amusement.

"Ouch, that hurts, little mouse," he replies with mock indignation, his tone light and playful despite the underlying tension between you. "But hey, don't worry. I'll make sure to give you my best angle next time."

"Keep dreaming, Hargrove," you retort, a flicker of annoyance flashing in your eyes as you notice Billy building those tough walls back up, leaving you to the same mysteries as the rest of the town. 

As the conversation fizzles out, you can't shake the feeling of disappointment lingering in the air. Despite the brief moment of connection, it seems that Billy's walls are too high to breach, leaving you with a sense of frustration at the missed opportunity for genuine connection. You can't help but wonder about the masks he wears so loudly, each one a cacophony of distractions meant to hide the vulnerability beneath. With a resigned sigh, you turn back to the task at hand, burying your disappointment as you focus on finding the perfect book not without stealing another glance at Billy as he picks up one of the books and rifles through the pages. 

If these past two days have shown you anything, it’s how little time it takes for a stranger to become a big part of your life. It's unsettling how quickly he's managed to weave himself into the fabric of your daily existence with a persistence that both frustrates and intrigues you. You've always valued your privacy, cherished the solitude of your inner sanctuary, but now, in the wake of Billy's arrival, you find yourself craving his attention in a way you never thought possible. 

Perhaps the greatest risk is not in letting someone new in, but in closing yourself off to the possibility of genuine connection. And even with the knowledge of Billy having a tangled labyrinth for a heart, perhaps he’s worth the risk after all.

Taglist: @msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @periwinkle-quill @ghostcastaway

[riality-check]

steddie prompt! steve struggling with his dyslexia and feeling like he isnt smart enough compared to eddie and the kids?

In an effort to, in his words, "convert him to the light side," Dustin had given Steve an armful of what he deemed "essential reading" and sent him away to "learn the ways of the Force."

If Steve didn't like Star Wars so much, he would've made fun of that little nerd.

But, honestly, he's a little grateful. With no more monsters to slay and it being way too cold to venture outside of his house to go swim or play basketball, the books fill up a good chunk of time.

Too good a chunk.

It's taking him way too long to get through them.

He didn't try The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings because those looked way too intimidating. Dune's first twenty pages were boring as shit, and Ender's Game was a lot, to say the least.

So, he's been making his way through A Wrinkle in Time.

Slowly making his way through it. Too slowly.

Steve has been quickly reminded about why he hasn't voluntarily read a book since elementary school, and why he stopped reading the required books in high school.

It's hard. Reading sucks.

He doesn't know how other people get through it when the letters don't make sense and seem to switch, like how "b" and "d" or "f" and "t" look way too similar.

"Whatcha readin'?"

Steve looks up from the book - god, it's probably taken him at least an hour to get through chapter one, hasn't it - to find Eddie in the doorway of the living room.

Guess he's taking advantage of the spare key, Steve thinks to himself, but he's not mad about it, not even a little.

"A Wrinkle in Time," he says, holding up the book so Eddie can see the cover.

Eddie lights up. "Oh, I love that book! I think the last time I read it, I was in, shit, maybe fourth grade?"

Steve knows he didn't mean it, but damn. That hurt a little bit.

He can't even get through a book Eddie read when he was in elementary school?

"What part are you at?"

Steve tucks the book against his chest so Eddie doesn't see how the bookmark isn't very far in. "Not very. Just met Mrs. Which. It's kind of hard to get through-"

"Oh, yeah," Eddie nods. "It took me, like, three days."

"- because the letters keep switching."

Eddie frowns. "What?"

"The letters," Steve says. "Like, they're moving a lot for this book. I don't know why."

Eddie looks at him blankly.

Oh.

"Does that... not happen for you?"

Eddie shakes his head.

Steve huffs out a laugh because of course this would be a uniquely him problem. Of course people like Dustin and Eddie and the rest of the party would like reading, because of course they would be able to do it right.

"I guess I really am stupid."

"It took me three tries to get through my senior year," Eddie says seriously, putting his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Does that make me stupid?"

"No," Steve says instantly. It doesn't. Just because Eddie wasn't good at school doesn't mean he isn't smart. He's a brilliant storyteller and musician, and both of those take brains.

Steve doesn't have a hobby that takes brains because he just... doesn't have enough. Plain and simple. That's how it's always been.

"Ok, then you're not stupid for having trouble reading," Eddie says like it's the simplest thing in the world.

"But-"

"But what? We're all gonna struggle with something. For me, it was school. For you, it's reading. It's why we've got other people to fill in the gaps."

Other people don't fill in the gaps. Steve does. Steve stretches himself thin, makes sure he's everywhere at once to make sure the kids and Robin and Eddie are okay.

No one else can do that because. Well.

Steve has to be irreplaceable somehow. He's gotta be necessary somehow.

This is the only way they need him.

"Get out of your head, martyr," Eddie says, reading his mind. He's not as good at that as Robin is - Steve doesn't think anyone will ever be able to read him like Robin can - but he can still do it.

It's weird, just like Eddie is. Steve's learned to love weird over the past few years.

"Do you want me to stick around?" Eddie asks.

"You can stay, if you want," Steve says.

"I always want to stay with you," Eddie says, and damn if that sentence doesn't take Steve's breath away. "But I figured I'd ask."

So, Eddie lays his head in Steve's lap as Steve dives back into a world of tesseracts and space and time, and when Steve tilts the book down and points to a word that just isn't making sense, Eddie reads it for him.

He doesn't comment on how often he hears the pages flip.

[hoshologies]

ALL GREEK LOVE, LEE H.

synopsis — you spent the entire summer telling your family that you weren't going to join a sorority. now not only are you an initiated member of delta eta sigma, but you've been elected to the social chair position for you chapter. that's all well and good until heeseung lee, the newly elected social chairman for lambda rho and well-known in the greek community, reaches out to you to start planning runouts between your respective chapters. and now you're spending a lot more time with the cutest boy you've ever met.

genres &&. warnings — romance, fluff, meet-cute, smut, strangers to friends to lovers!au, college!au, greek life!au &&. underage drinking, afab!reader, tipsy sex, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimulation.

word count — 15.7k.

from the author — not to be totally sorority girl, but the way i see greek life depicted in college au fics is CRAZY. now that i'm back hardcore into my kpop stan era, i rewatched the drunk-dazed mv and was like hmm... so the ultimate plan here was to write heeseung filth but also portray greek life a little more accurately because even if i'm not a huge fan, one thing about me is i'm gonna make sure y'all KNOW that greek life isn't just parties every weekend.

jokes aside, i really hope you enjoy this fic and my first real return to writing. likes, reblogs, and feedback are always welcome. and honestly, if you have any questions about greek life that you just have to know the answer to, i'm an open book.

if you enjoyed it, feel free to buy me a ko-fi!

the entire summer before starting your freshman year of college, you had told your family that you weren’t going to join a sorority. in your mind, there was a specific mold that one needed to fit into to join a sorority and quite frankly, you checked none of the boxes of those stereotypes. 

yet here you sit, months later, in your sorority’s chapter meeting. and you’ve just been elected to the social chair position of the chi nu chapter of delta eta sigma. 

truthfully, you’re not quite sure how you ended up here. you hadn’t formally rushed the week before school, but a couple of drunk girls at a frat party at the beginning of the semester had told you that you should rush their sorority. maybe you’d been a little desperate to branch out or maybe you were just a little curious of what rushing looked like, but a few days later at the student organization fair, you’d found the booth for the sorority the girls had told you they belonged to, delta eta sigma, and signed up for their informal rush.

by the end of october, you had been extended a bid, assigned a big, and promptly initiated into the chapter in what you jokingly referred to as a cult ritual (how could you describe it any other way? all white outfit? candles? promises to not divulge secrets about rituals that happen behind closed doors?).

and now, just three weeks after officially joining the chapter, you’ve ended up on the programming board somehow. you’d gotten a call from the selection board while sitting in the drive-thru of mcdonalds, waiting impatiently for your order of fries and a sprite as a treat for doing well on your gen psych quiz. the girl who’d called you said you’d made “quite the impression” on the sorority since accepting the bid and that they (including the chapter advisor) thought you’d be the perfect fit for the social chair.

“it’s a solo position, so you won’t have a co-chair like community service does, but given your grades so far this semester and the impact you’ve made on the chapter already, we would really love to see what you can do in this position! would you be interested?”

so really, how could you say anything but yes? you still don’t think you fit all that perfectly into the chapter, but they were giving you an opportunity to get involved and to make yourself fit. your name is announced for the social chair, one of your senior pictures pasted up on the powerpoint, and the girls around you smile and snap their fingers. from the executive board seats up front, your big smiles at you, eyes sparkling with something akin to pride.

a few days later, as you’re getting lunch at the student union, your phone screen lights up with a notification from groupme. a name you vaguely recognize is paired with a message that gets cut off after a few words.

heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho and…

as you sit down with your salad and dr. pepper, you click the notification and read it in full. at the very top of the new message thread is heeseung’s picture and it clicks where you recognize him from. he’s friends with your big and he’s involved in a few of the bigger student organizations on campus, namely the activities board, so you’ve seen him in the student union fairly often.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho! i’m friends with liv and she told me that you just got elected as the new social chair for your sorority. i just got slated into the same position for my frat.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: i know we won’t start running things until next semester, but i just wanted to reach out and touch base with you. i’m really looking forward to planning runouts with you next year :]

[1:37 pm] heeseung lee: sorry. i hope that wasn’t too weird. i guess i’m just a little too excited and want to get a bit of a headstart on things. have a good day!

you laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you set the phone down to take a bite of salad. before getting involved in greek life, you always assumed sorority girls and frat guys were airheaded and mean, people who peaked in high school, trying desperately to drag those glory days out. obviously since then, you’ve come to realize that while it is true in some occasions, most times, greek life members are the opposite.

heeseung, who you’ve never spoken to before, is proving that.

[1:42 pm] hi heeseung! not weird at all, i promise. and i’m really excited to plan events with you next semester too :]

by the beginning of february, you haven’t done much with your position. granted, the semester has only really been in full swing for about a week and a half and you have two full semesters to do plenty of things, but you’re itching to start planning. the binder you were given after the officer transition ritual has so many good ideas, everything from runouts with frats and sororities to both formal and semiformal.

while you’re brainstorming ideas for potential social events late on a tuesday night, your phone lights up from its spot on your nightstand, the short bell sound ringing out. you reach for it absentmindedly as you finish writing down the idea you had (rent out skating rink??? check budget). since the beginning of the school year, you’ve become desensitized to the groupme icon when it appears in your notifications, so much so that you barely register heeseung’s name upon first glance. it takes a second look for you to realize who’s texted you.

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: sorry for texting so late. i just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up some time and start on some ideas for a runout?

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: obviously not now!! but if you’re free some time this week, we could meet somewhere and talk. i spent all of winter break brainstorming stuff, so i’d really like to run it by you if that’s ok.

[9:14 pm] hi again heeseung. i was actually planning on getting lunch tomorrow at the student union after i’m done with class at 11 if you’re free then?

the second you press send, you immediately start second guessing yourself. does it come off like you’re asking him to have lunch with you? because that wasn’t your intention. really, you just meant that you’re going to be on campus proper for a little bit and wanted to offer to meet before you got lunch. not that it would be a bad thing if he asked if you could get lunch together; liv likes heeseung well enough and you’ve seen him around, and he really does seem nothing but nice, so lunch really couldn’t hurt— okay, take a breath. it is not that serious.

you take a deep breath and then let your muscles go lax as you exhale. better. 

it feels like ages pass before he texts back. you’re worried you’ve scared him off, but it really shouldn’t be that stressful. it’s just a text and he’s the one who wanted to meet up in the first place anyways; you just offered a time and location. but finally, your phone dings again and his name lights up your screen.

[9:21 pm] heeseung lee: actually that works perfect!! i get out of class at the same time and usually grab lunch at the u before heading to the activities board office. wanna meet by the dining area next to the office?

[9:21 pm] sounds like a plan!! i’ll see you then!

heeseung, you realize as you set your phone down and put away your binder for the night, is the only social chair of any of the greek organizations who has reached out to you to start getting the ball rolling. he seems to be just as anxious as you are about doing this job well, which makes you feel at least a little validated. nervous and jittery though you may be about meeting him for the first time tomorrow after only having chatted with him over text twice, the idea of him feeling the same as you brings a strange form of comfort. with enough of it, you actually start looking forward to seeing him tomorrow as you lay down to sleep, mind running a mile a minute with what it’ll be like to meet him after all of the things you’ve heard about him from liv. by the time you slip into the embrace of sleep, anxiety has boiled down into anticipation.

at 11:02 the next morning, heeseung nearly scares the hell out of you when he shows up at the designated meeting spot. you’re so invested in your twitter scroll that you don’t notice when he walks up. it’s not until he says a soft “hi” that you jump and almost drop your phone in the process. when you look up, there’s a worried look on his face.

“sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!” 

after a moment to catch your breath, you shake your head and wave his worry off, though the gesture doesn’t do much to make that worried look on his (undeniably pretty) face. “it’s okay, heeseung. really.”

to really seal the deal, you shoot him a gentle smile, trying to prove that your heart isn’t about ready to give out anymore. you feel blessed when he returns it, all quirked up at the corners and smile lines and soft, plush cheeks. silence falls, the two of you smiling and staring at each other like idiots until heeseung shakes himself out of his stupor.

“anyways…” he clears his throat and moves his gaze towards the food court. “what did you want to get to eat? my treat.”

you look up at him, at the way he’s pointedly not looking at you and instead examining the restaurants just beyond the dining areas. you know, the restaurants that have been the same for the last five years probably and will be here for another five, the ones he’s grabbed food from at least a couple of times since the semester started and even more since the beginning of the school year. 

“you don’t have to buy me lunch, heeseung. it’s-”

he finally turns to look at you again, that same easy smile still pulling his features into a soft form of happiness. “it’s no problem, really. just an act of good faith. all greek love and whatnot, you know?”

you laugh a little at that, conceding but allowing him to choose where he wants to get lunch from since he’s the one paying and you don’t really have a preference. by the time you’re sat opposite each other at a table with meals from the burger stall, your stomach is rumbling. you’re about half of the way through your burger when heeseung looks up from his fries, clearing his throat to get your attention.

“so…” he starts. it’s clear he hadn’t planned what he wanted to say before catching your focus, so an awkward silence settles over him, eyes on you but focused somewhere off behind you like he’s looking through you instead. you tilt your head, lean in close, which snaps him out of the trance and he restarts. “right, ideas for events. i have a binder from the last social chair of my frat with a bunch of things he did during his time.”

“oh! i do, too!” you interject. “there’s a bunch of stuff that the last girl did and then things some of the girls before her did too.”

heeseung’s grin breaks back across his face, bright and warm; you swear, a smile from this boy alone could break up the threatening winter storm currently hanging over campus. “there’s a bunch of good ideas in mine. but i’m not quite sure how well they’d work right now because of the weather.”

“are most of the ideas outside?” you inquire, taking a sip of your soda while he confirms your suspicions. when you put the cup back down, you wave off his concern. “no worries then. almost all of mine are ones that can be inside, so we could go through those if you want!”

heeseung nods and smiles that morning sunlight smile of his, and you can’t move quick enough to pull the thin pink binder out of your tote bag. he clears away some of the trash from the table so you can lay out the binder, intro page on full display. for the next five minutes, the pair of you pore over the pages upon pages of ideas, sleek white cut through with black ink that lists the idea, the locations, how much it costs. 

you’re so invested in going over everything with him that you hardly acknowledge when heeseung stands and moves into the open seat beside you so neither one of you is craning your neck. you simply adjust the binder so you can read through the pages comfortably. it isn’t until heeseung points one out excitedly and you look up in startle that you finally notice that he isn’t a foot away but inches, noses just centimeters apart.

right now, this is the most compromising position you could possibly be in with a boy you hardly know and you find yourself praying that nobody from either of your chapters decides to walk by. of course, neither of you have anything to hide – this is a simple brainstorming session, of course, absolutely nothing more – but liv and your small group of friends would never let you live this down if they saw it.

heeseung clears his throat after seconds that stretch into years and you break your gaze from his painfully (how can you be blamed for staring? he’s that soft kind of pretty that hypnotizes). “um… so i think rollerskating could be fun…”

it is a good event that your sorority has done with the other frats and sororities in the past, one that you were playing around with as a potential plan to pitch to him. the fact that he picked it out on his own accord makes you bristle with something akin to pride, a feeling so warm and comforting it has you leaning just a little closer to him.

let the girls see me, you think as your sweater-clad shoulder brushes against his own. there are worse things they could catch me doing.

“actually… this was one of the ones i was going to suggest if you didn’t find any that you were really interested in…” you say quietly, voice nearly lost in the din of the dining area of the student union.

heeseung looks at you, blinking slow and round and soft, as if each flutter of his eyelids is a moment of his brain processing your words. “really… maybe it’s a sign…?”

his voice is just as soft, matching your energy in one swift go. you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as you, if he’s feeling that it seems like you’ve known one another forever despite only knowing each other for fifteen minutes max; it seems like your souls themselves are in complete synergy, so why would it be so farfetched to wonder if maybe you knew each other in a different life to have caused that synchrony?

you laugh a little and shrug, shoulder brushing against his softly; the movement is short and sweet, but your heart rises in you like the high tide, washing through your veins with foam and salt and the kind of breeze only the ocean can bring, chill and warm all at once. “maybe so.”

silence settles over the table like sand stirred on the ocean floor, the both of you lost in your own worlds. heeseung has dragged his soda to this side of the table and sips absentmindedly, gaze focused miles beyond the horizon of the hallway. he’s completely checked out when your consciousness wanders back into your body and you take the moment to study him a little: the even slope of his nose, high cheekbones paired with plush skin, long eyelashes that brush the apex of his cheeks when he blinks, a flutter of dark against light. 

there are worse boys you could be caught staring at.

you’re still thinking about your lunch with heeseung hours later, even when you’re out getting your weekly tuesday night ice cream with your big. liv is going on about how her professor for her linguistics class pissed her off during lecture today, but you’re not absorbing a single word of any of it. you remember vaguely that he openly disagreed with her during the lecture and they got into a debate in front of the whole class, but beyond that, you don’t know much else.

“god, he’s just the worst. i can’t believe– alright, you’re in the stratosphere right now. what’s going on?”

you snap back to reality, eyes wide and goosebumps prickling up under the sleeves of your sweater. you shake your head, trying to brush away the conversation she’s trying to prompt, even though it’ll be futile because liv can’t let things go for the life of her. “nothing! everything’s fine, i swear.”

liv’s eyes narrow and a single dark eyebrow quirks up. “yeah, i’m not buying it.”

you glare playfully at her, eating a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. when you swallow, you answer with a pointed, “when do you buy anything i say? really, liv. it’s nothing.”

“did someone say something to you? i’m part of panhellenic and on the all-greek council. if someone did something, i can handle it.”

you shake your head earnestly and wave a hand for extra emphasis. “olivia. seriously. nothing happened.”

your big is silent for a few moments, studying you intently. her shady blue eyes, usually wistful and giving the impression of being miles away herself, cut right down to your very bone, as if she’ll find the answer she’s looking for written into your skin or soul, carved into your heart. eventually, she sighs and slumps back against the booth.

“alright, fine. i’ll believe you this time,” she says in a voice that hints at disappointment. “but you’d tell me if someone did say something to you, right? i’m serious about getting things taken care of if someone does something like that to you.”

you smile, reach across the table, rest your hand over her. “yes, liv. i would tell you if somebody treated me badly. you’re the only friend i have who would be willing to go to jail if needed. but i promise the situation doesn’t call for that right now.”

she perks up a little at your words and takes a deep breath, nodding. she’s back to her bubbly self, resuming her rant about her asshole linguistics professor who definitely shouldn’t have tenure. the whiplash her behavior gives you definitely just secured her an award for “most melodramatic” at formal in april (which, fuck you have to start planning that soon too).

you remain checked into liv’s rant, assenting when she asks you for your opinions on this professor who you’ve never met and never plan on meeting, and offering advice when she wants it. but you still find yourself wandering off at times, mind focused on heeseung.

you’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her about meeting with the boy earlier; she’s one of his friends and she’s always spoken so highly about him, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. in fact, she’s mentioned in passing a couple of times (mostly when she’s undeniably hammered) that she thinks you and heeseung would make a cute couple, even though she’s never seen the two of you interact, let alone exist in the same room.

but there’s something special about the thirty minutes you shared with heeseung. you met in a public place, sure, but something about it felt and still feels so sacred to you. it’s something you want to keep a secret for at least a little while. that soft sunshine smile and the low tide brushes of shoulders are things that, for now, belong solely to you and heeseung. it won’t kill liv to be left out of the loop for a while.

“do you think we should have it closer to midterms?” heeseung’s voice is pure static, like he’s going through a tunnel, even though there’s only half a campus worth of distance between you.

the two of you have graduated from groupme dms to phone calls over the course of three days. heeseung is saved affectionately in your phone as sseung with the deer emoji, one that you picked out as he sat across from you after you’d exchanged numbers; he doesn’t know about it, but he reminds you often of a deer caught in headlights with the way he stares at you all wide-eyed when you try to catch his attention.

“maybe? but people have to study. i’m not sure how often your guys are in the library, but i see at least thirty girls at the library every single night, so i’m not sure how willing they’d be to give up a night of studying, even if it is only for an hour, that close to midterms.”

heeseung’s small, thoughtful hmm is audible over the speaker and you smile to yourself over a basket of clean laundry. you’ve spent maybe three hours max with him over the last couple of days and already you have a pretty decent grasp on his personality and habits. right now, you can picture the way he likely looks up from his phone or planner and stares off past the beige cinderblock wall of his dorm room, turning possibilities over in his head.

“no, you’re right about that. i didn’t even consider it.”

you shrug as though he can see you, folding a pair of sweats and setting them to the side. “i’d definitely like for it to be soonish though. it doesn’t have to be planned super far in advance, you know what i mean? we’ve still got… what? a month until midterms?”

“i think so, yeah.”

you nod to yourself, hanging up one of your shirts. “okay, so what about two weeks from now? that lands us right in between now and midterms, so it’d be a happy medium.”

he’s silent on the other end of the line and you pause in your hanging of another shirt, worried that he’s thinking you’re stupid. of course, heeseung would never think anything like that about anyone because he’s the sweetheart to end all sweethearts. still, you worry because what this boy thinks of you is ridiculously imperative to your day to day functions.

three days, you remind yourself. you’ve known him for three days. there’s no reason for his opinions to hold this much weight.

you wonder if heeseung knows just how easy it is to like him, to be around him; if he knows just how much you want to see him all the time because he’s completely taken over your every waking thought. liv’s comments about him made in passing never could have truly captured just how amazing he is, nice and caring and so so pretty. you’re almost embarrassed to be this head over heels for him, but when he laughs over the phone or focuses all of his attention on you over a table in the food court, that mortification burns away into something soft and sweet and slow.

“i think that’s a great idea. not too soon, so we can make sure our chapters know it’s happening, but not too late that it disrupts any midterm studying.”

you breathe a sigh of relief and smile to yourself, resting your hands against the lip of the laundry basket. the rational part of your brain knew he was going to agree, but the part of you that so desperately craves his approval was disgustingly terrified that you wouldn’t receive it. now that you have, though, a heat rushes through you, pride warm and bright because you offered a good solution to the minuscule obstacle.

“yeah, exactly!”

you can just imagine the grin on heeseung’s face right now, delicate like freshly fallen snow. the image fills you with the giddiness of a high school girl, glad to be the one to have caused such a beautiful sight. “okay, cool. i’ll talk about it with the executive board, get it approved and whatnot, but i think we should be set, besides who’s paying for what.”

“what do you mean?” you question, brows furrowing as you finish up the last of your laundry.

“what do you mean?” there’s a playful, teasing edge in his voice. “someone has to pay to book the rink and the shoes, and don’t you think there should be snacks?”

“oh… yeah, i guess so.”

“so i was thinking we’d cover the booking and you could cover the food… but only if you’re cool with that! obviously, it’s not a big deal or anything, but i figured we should get that in order too so we can a specific date set and everything.”

“no, no! that works fine for me! i honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead, so it’s a good thing you did.” the line falls silent for a few moments, static crackling softly between you. there’s just something about the idea that you’re so close yet so far from each other, physically distant but holding each other close like this over a quiet cellphone line. it’s comforting to have him like this, you find.

“but yeah…” you break the stillness with your voice soft so as to not completely shatter the tranquility you’ve cultivated here. “that’s… that’s good thinking, heeseung.”

“hanks…” his own words mimic the same volume, nearly lost in the haze of the phone. “so… i’ll run it by the exec board and let you know?”

you hum a quick mhmm and tell him that you’ll do the same. there should be no reason that you’ll be denied, but the fact that liv, seeing as she’s vice president of programming, is part of the exec board and will find out that you’ve been, at the very least, talking to heeseung on a semi-regular basis (see: every day this week since tuesday afternoon) is a little nerve wracking, mostly because you’re ninety-nine percent sure she’s been hinting at trying to set the two of you up.

and when you say hinting, you mean pointing him out on campus or at parties and saying something like “really, i think you two would get along so well! you should go and talk to him.”

she was right about that, but the last thing you need right now is her finding out that you are catching feelings, all without her meddling. but you’ll make peace with the fact because you have to.

liv sidles up to you two weeks later on a thursday night, knit-clad arms crossed over her chest. you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s wearing a smug expression right now. “so…”

you don’t even physically react to her presence, instead choosing to gaze out over the rollerskating rink in your little college town. “so… what, liv?”

she nudges you with her shoulder and leans with her back against the wall separating the rink floor from the carpet of the sitting area. “you and heeseung, huh? i’ve been telling you for ages that the two of you would get along!”

you scoff playfully and roll your eyes, finally turning your head to look at her. “can you not start sentences like that?”

“like what?” she asks innocently.

“like heeseung and i have something going on. all we did was plan one runout together. we’ve only met, like, one time in person.”

you regret the words almost as soon as they leave the tip of your tongue because the second she hears the phrase “in person,” she’s already causing a scene. even though her voice is somewhat drowned out by the music blasting over the speakers, the absolute tenacity with which she gestures with her entire body draws more attention than it should. melodramatic as per usual.

“in person? when was this? and why was i not informed?” the questions liv asks a million times come out more like exclamations than anything else, too caught up in melodramatic distress to adjust the tone of her voice correctly.

you shrug absently, turning your head back towards the rink. heeseung is standing on the opposite side, talking to a few of the guys from his frat. he looks nice in his blue and green sweater and loose jeans, brown hair tousled from the winter breeze outside. “a couple weeks ago. and i didn’t tell you because it just wasn’t that important. we literally only had lunch just to talk about ideas for this.”

liv whines your name and stomps a foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “yeah, but i’m your big. i wanna know these things! and i’ve also been trying to set you two up forever! you didn’t think i’d want to know that you’d finally met him, even if it wasn’t because of anything i’d plan? my feelings are hurt.”

“first, this is exactly why one of the awards for formal this semester is going to be most over dramatic and exactly why you’re going to win,” you start, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “second, i knew you would want to know, but i also knew this is how you’d react. i didn’t think you’d want to know about us setting up an event together, like… there’s no tea to spill or whatever. it’s just boring stuff. i don’t even know him that well.”

a bold-faced lie if you’ve ever told one; you know heeseung down to the cologne he puts on every morning. and maybe there was a little more to the event planning sessions. at least five times over the past two weeks, heeseung has approached you either in the food court or at the library, and taken the seat opposite of you to chat and study a bit. not to mention, you’ve texted every single day since the two of you officially met for the first time.

but again: nothing liv needs to know. heeseung, for now, is just your little secret. the conversations you’ve shared, the little details you know about him, the sweater he’d given you a few days ago when you’d gotten cold at the library and your own sweater had gotten soaking wet due to rain and your lack of an umbrella, those are your things, special and personal and entirely yours.

“ugh. the two of you are so boring,” liv moans dramatically, tipping her head back. “i hope you hang out more after this, but only if you tell me about it.”

you shrug and glance back across the rink. heeseung has shifted positions, his arms crossed over the railing and by some stroke of luck, he’s looking at you, looking otherworldly under the shifting blue and purple lights. he smiles softly, just a quick phantom of a grin, and the only think you can do is return it with that same gentleness and warmth.

“maybe,” you say, glancing over at liv and then back at heeseung. “i guess we’ll just have to see.”

a week later, you’re sitting in your dorm room on a friday night, finalizing edits for a midterm paper, when there’s a banging at your door fifteen minutes before ten.

“heyyy! let me innn!” liv’s voice is airy and slurred through the door, so you can already guess what she’s here for.

with a heavy sigh, you stand and make your way to the door, opening it and finding your big leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. she’s dressed in her usual party attire: ripped jeans, black tank top, dirty shoes reserved specifically for the sticky basement floors of frat houses. she’s holding a metal water bottle in her hands; you can only guess what she’s mixed in it tonight.

“what’s up, liv?” you ask, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe, even though you don’t need an answer. you hadn’t anticipated her being here, so you’re already decked out in your comfy night clothes, prepared for a night in only. 

“lambda is throwing a party and you’re going with me,” she says peppily, practically jumping up and throwing herself into your room.

“liv-“

she whips around on her heels to face you, eyes glowing in the soft gold of your fairy lights. “no fighting me on this. you’ve been working hard and you need a break. so you’re going to dress like the hot bitch you are and then we’re going to lambda.”

liv is rooted to the spot, though she sways a little on her feet, and makes it known without words that she is not moving until you get ready for this dumb frat party. eager to get her drunken glare off of you, you sigh and nod, closing the door behind you, shutting off your desk light, and moving towards your wardrobe, rifling through the hangers to find a proper outfit.

you’ve been to lambda rho’s house before and it is nothing to write home about… unless, of course, you’re talking about how absolutely filthy the basement is; they have the best sized basement out of all of the frats on campus, but you swear they have never done anything to clean the floor. the first time you went, you’d been having a great time drinking well-mixed jungle juice and dancing to the best songs of the 2010s when you noticed that every step you took sounded like velcro. the floor was so sticky that you were literally having to put pressure behind pulling your shoes from the concrete. it totally killed the vibe.

but the jungle juice and occasional jello shots are great, so you persevere. besides, lambda throws the best parties on campus and you’re clearly the person to trust on party hot takes since you only go back to frats you have a good time at (sorry, sigma pi).

plus, heeseung is in lambda rho and he has to be there since he’s the social chair and all, so… you note that out of the maybe five parties you’ve been to there since the beginning of the school year, you’ve never once seen him. granted, he’s only required to be at any parties hosted while he’s the social chairman, so maybe he just didn’t go to any last semester. or maybe he’s a wallflower like you, choosing to stand on the outskirts instead of in the center of attention.

lost in your haze of heeseung thoughts, you don’t really register that you’ve finished dressing and that liv has sat you down at your desk to fix your hair. somehow, while very much drunk, your big has an easy time styling it. she’s focused intensely on the task at hand, but also manages to carry on a one-sided conversation, not realizing that you’re not responding to her. but when she moves her hands from your head and sets them on the back of your chair, you’re amazed; she’s always been good at styling and fashion (hence why she’s been in charge of the homecoming student org dance and cheer competition every fall for the last two years), but you weren’t expecting her skills to be up to par while buzzed to hell and back.

“there we go, ready to wow heeseung,” liv says matter-of-factly, a proud look on her face. when you glare at her through the mirror, she smiles and shrugs lazily, reaching to grab her water bottle and phone from your desk. “what? he’ll be there tonight and i’ve heard through the grape vine that he might have a little crush on you, so…”

you whip around at her words, hands braced against the back of your chair. something like liquid anxiety prickles under your skin, sending goosebumps across your arms. liv is friends with just about everyone in greek life, so “the grape vine” could quite literally mean anybody, but who did she find that out from anyways? when did heeseung say anything like that? did he even actually say that or is she just deadset on shipping the two of you together until it either happens or falls through?

“what?”

she looks back at you over her shoulder, one hand resting on the doorknob and your dorm keys in the other. there’s a mischievous glint in her dark eyes and your heart drops; how did you get such a schemer as a big? “oh, yeah. i was hanging out at the lambda house the other night with yeonjun. you know? heeseung’s big? and he maybe mentioned something about it. why do you wanna know?”

she sidles back up to you, pulling you out of the chair by your shoulders. “do you maybe… i don’t know… like him back? why are you so nervous?”

you shake your head, trying to will the goosebumps on your arms and lightning in your veins away. you’ve claimed a million times over the last few weeks that there is nothing more going on between you and that boy, no matter how pretty or sweet you might think he is. heeseung is just a friend, someone you just so happened to click really well with and just so happened to plan a really fun event with. there’s nothing else to say about it or the way you get excited when his name shows up on your phone or how your day immediately gets better when he walks up to you at the library without texting you first, your favorite snack and coffee in hand and a smile on his face.

there’s nothing there to unpack. you think.

“i’m not nervous. and i bet yeonjun just misheard heeseung. the two of us are just friends. i’ve told you that a million times and i’m sure he’s said the same thing.”

liv just laughs and ushers you towards the door. “okay, okay… sure, sweetheart. let’s get over there before they run out of alcohol.”

jay, the self-appointed dj for every lambda rho party, is blasting year 3000 by the jonas brothers when you and liv arrive in the basement. there’s already a large group of bodies on the dance floor, but the bar area is still pretty crowded and getting worse. liv links her arm with yours so that you won’t get separated, even though there’s no chance of you getting lost or anything.

the two of you make your way towards the bar where yeonjun is “bartending,” a term he insists on using despite the fact that all he does is pour cups of vibrant red jungle juice. blonde hair hangs over his forehead and his skin is glistening with sweat already, looking weirdly ethereal under the colorful lights that fill the room. when he sets eyes on you and liv, he smiles brightly and leans against the bartop.

“hey, you two! glad you finally showed up!” he shouts over the music. “jungle juice?”

liv nods enthusiastically, mimicking his posture and crossing her arms on top of the counter. “yes please! any chances you have jello shots tonight too?”

the boy looks around before he leans in closer to answer. “don’t tell anyone else, but i made some just for you two since you’re my favorite customers.”

liv rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep, but she’s smiling anyways. “we’re not customers, jun. you’re not even getting paid to do this. when are you gonna stop acting like you’re a real bartender, huh?”

he clenches his hand over his heart and stumbles backwards, feigning pain. “you wound me so, liv. i did something nice for you and this is how you repay me. i can’t believe this!”

but in the midst of his monologue, he bends over to open a mini fridge behind the bar and returns with a couple of jello shots. he tells you to take them here while he gets your drinks and hide them the best you can so nobody gets up in arms that he’s providing something outside of the night’s menu. he’s always been especially nice to you, mostly because of liv and his undying love for her (though platonic or romantic, you’ve never been exactly sure about), so it’s all you can do to thank him and listen to his pleads for secrecy regarding the contraband jello shots. when he’s back above bar, you switch off, him discreetly tossing the small cups in the trash.

liv, finally armed with her precious red solo cup, turns to talk to some other friends, leaving you and yeonjun alone. the music is so loud you can hardly keep your thoughts straight, which is great for keeping your mind off of what liv said earlier, but doesn’t last long when yeonjun leans in ever closer, his cologne enveloping you entirely.

“you should thank heeseung for the jello shots, by the way. i honestly hadn’t even thought to make some for you and liv because i was busy with other stuff, but he asked about making some since he knows they’re your favorite.”

your heart clenches a little at the idea that heeseung wanted to make sure that you had things you liked at his frat’s party. it’s nice to have someone looking out for small things like that, even if it means breaking a rule or two. yeonjun rests his hand on top of your head and pats gently, a knowing look in his eyes.

“listen, i know that you swear up and down the wall that you and him are just friends, but for what it’s worth, he likes you a lot. he just won’t say it. you know him. he’s kinda bad with words. it’s not really my place to make his confession for him, but just… you know. give him a chance.”

you nod dumbly and give him a half-baked smile when he pulls his hand off your head. a few girls walk up, vying for their own drinks, so you take that as your cue to walk away, red solo cup cradled in your hands. any hope of not thinking about heeseung lee has been completely undone by both liv and yeonjun. 

suddenly, you are far too sober.

two hours later, you’re five drinks in, only kept track of by the cups you have in your hand, and you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed. the lights are a little brighter, the music a little louder, liv’s arm hot and grounding around your shoulders. she’s completely gone, despite the fact that she’s only had three cups of jungle juice. she’s serenading you with dancing queen by abba, somehow getting every single word wrong. 

“fuck, i’m way too drunk for this,” she says, breaking off a line in the middle of the second verse. “i’ll sing for you next time. promise.”

you laugh and lean against her, shaking your head. “okay, livvie. sounds good.” you’re content to end your sentence there, but you have an increasing awareness of how hot it’s gotten. the amount of people packed into the basement, especially in the center of the dancefloor like this, has contributed greatly to the heat and you need some time to cool down before it makes you sick. “listen, ‘m gonna get some air. ‘t’s getting really hot.”

liv nods and hugs you to her, voice chipper but slurred heavily. “‘kay! i’ll see you in a few.” she lets you go and breaks out into the next song, somehow worse than dancing queen.

you slip out of the crowd, already feeling a little cooler now that you’ve escaped from the hot press of bodies. standing on the outskirts of the dancefloor, you consider your options. there’s the open window that a cool breeze passes through or the door by yeonjun’s bar, which you know leads directly outside with a staircase up to the back deck. while you initially planned to be within arm’s reach for liv’s sake, your ears are starting to ring from the loud music and the choice is made for you.

you wave to yeonjun as you make your way towards the door. he pauses and leans over to ask you if you’re leaving, looking a little concerned, but you shake your head and tell him what you told liv. and then you tack on the information that she’s incredibly drunk, so he should watch out for her because knowing her, she’ll be tapping out sooner rather than later. he nods in understanding and lets you go, turning back to the two frat guys, jake and chan, that are standing at the bar.

the temperature difference between the basement and outside right now is jarring, but welcomed nonetheless. you carefully traverse the stairs, not quite confident in yourself to take them confidently, seeing as your sight is currently swimming a little and your head is light. getting to the top is a feat and you feel immediately better once you’re on the back deck.

you’re so out of it that you don’t realize you aren’t alone as you lean against the railing, reveling in the way the wood digs into your forearms and the chill bites at you through the sheer long sleeves of your black shirt. you’re still very much buzzed, but you feel a little more clear-headed now that you can hear yourself think.

the sound of your name startles you and you swear you jump ten feet in the air before you whip around, hand against your heart. heeseung is halfway out the back door, a cup in his hand and that deer caught in the headlights expression you’ve come to know well over the last month or so. 

“jesus, heeseung. you scared the shit out of me!” you say, catching your breath and leaning back against the railing.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to!” he finishes stepping out of the house and onto the deck with you, the door swinging shut behind him. he’s so earnest in his apology that you can’t help but smile, dropping your hand and instead taking a sip from your drink that you carried out here with you.

“you have a habit of sneaking up on me, huh?”

he joins you at the railing, leaning against it the way you are, and raises his own cup to his lips (perfect and plush and pink… enough of that). he shrugs as he drinks, wincing when it goes down rougher than he expected. the liquid that sloshes against the side is not the same color as yours, so you can only assume that one of the guys gave him something a little stronger than whatever they threw together for the jungle juice.

“i guess so,” he says through a small cough. “i don’t mean to, if that makes it any better.”

you laugh a little, nudging him with your shoulder. “it’s not a big deal, if that makes you feel better. i think it’s kinda funny.”

heeseung smiles at that and nods, keeping his eyes trained on the drink in his cup. it’s only when you’re committing his side profile to drunken memory that you realize the blush that’s crept up the back of his neck onto his cheeks and the tip of his ears. except, that sober voice inside your head argues it could just be from the cold. 

but neither of you have been out long enough for that to be the case. it’s not even that cold out here, just a little bit chilly. drunk you is having sneaking suspicions, ones that sober you would never entertain, and this is the first time you’re seeing heeseung at one of his frat’s parties, so you might as well take advantage of it all as much as you can.

“yeonjun told me what you did… the jello shots for me and liv, i mean,” you clarify the second you realize how the first sentence sounds without context. “thanks. i didn’t think you were really paying attention to that kind of stuff.”

heeseung turns his head to look at you, eyes a little wide but that soft, perfect smile offsets it nicely. he looks a little surprised that you found out about it, but not upset that yeonjun mentioned it.

“well… i mean, of course i do. that’s kinda… what i do, you know?”

he’s beating around the bush. yeonjun was right; heeseung never talks about his feelings and he sure as hell won’t offer you the words you’re waiting to hear right now. so, drunk you reasons, why is the only way to confess through words? he’s shown you how much he cares, he’s been doing it for weeks now. maybe you were suppressing your own feelings to keep liv off your back about it all, but in doing so, you’ve been diminishing heeseung’s own attempts at telling you. 

this whole thing with him has never been simply friends. love at first sight feels a little much, but you certainly have something between you and you have for weeks on end at this point. maybe it’s time to reward this beautiful boy for being so patient with you.

just as he’s beginning to turn his head away to look back towards the house, you set your cup on the railing and capture his face in your hands. there’s no moment for either of you to process what’s happening, just that one minute there’s a platonic amount of distance between you and the next, your lips are on his and it is warm and unpracticed and still unbelievably perfect. heeseung goes pliant and soft under your touch, his free hand resting gently on the small of your back. his fingers curl gently into your shirt, tethering himself to you. his other hand is still grasping his solo cup and you find yourself wishing he’d just drop the damn thing, even if it means the both of your shoes get soaked in whatever he’d been served (whiskey, you’d guess, from the smokey taste on his tongue).

he’s the first to pull away, eyes still closed for moments after. his breaths come shallow and his cheeks have gone impossibly red, his hand still against your back. you study him from this angle, closer than you’ve ever been, and somehow, you’re finding him prettier than ever before. maybe it’s the alcohol talking or the sudden lovesickness for him, but you don’t care because you finally kissed heeseung lee and left him breathless.

“what- um… what was that for?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering open. his pupils are blown wide and awestruck (you think that’s the right word in your jungle juice induced haze).

you shrug, inching yourself a little closer towards him. he turns to meet you so your bodies run parallel to each other and finally sets his offending cup on the railing next to yours. “got tired waiting for you t’make a move.”

he makes a sound in the back of his throat and turns his head to look elsewhere, as if looking at you might make him drop dead. any doubt you had from earlier in the night that he’d told yeonjun that he liked you is swept away in a single moment; he can deny it all he wants now, but you already know the truth, so what’s the point?

“liv told me that she heard through the grape vine that you liked me…” you say softly, voice trailing off into the muffled sounds of a kesha song blasting in the basement. “is that… true?”

you watch as he draws a deep breath, squeezes his eyes closed, steels himself for whatever answer he’s about to give. with all your liquid courage now, confessing might not have been a big deal, but you know that if you’d been sober, it would be just as hard as this. but you swear you saw him drinking jungle juice down in the basement an hour and a half ago, and now he’s drinking something stronger, so he must be so naturally shy that not even alcohol can wipe it out.

finally, he lets his breath out and focuses his attention on you again, his eyes soft and pleading. don’t break my heart. please.

“yeah… yeah, i got a little drunk last weekend and told yeonjun that i thought i had feelings for you when he got me back to my dorm. i’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or if it ruins our friendship. i j–”

you kiss him again, hot and heavy and full of longing and words you don’t dare voice because you’ve liked him for a long time too; you were just too afraid to admit it to yourself. but now he’s spilling his heart out and you’d rather walk barefoot through broken glass before you let him go on thinking for a second longer that his feelings aren’t reciprocated tenfold.

you step impossibly closer, your bodies pressed tight and heavy, the seam unbreakable. heeseung’s hands (both thank god) rest on your waist, holding you close. he bristles under your touch as you leave one hand on his shoulder and the other sneaks around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the fine, soft hair there. your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and his chest shudders against yours, some small, refined gasp of approval passing from his mouth to yours as he takes his turn to kiss the breath out of you.

it’s a tiny noise, barely noticeable, barely passing as a soft breathy moan. but you hear it and it’s embarrassingly enough to have your knees going a little weak. well, it’s not just that minuscule noise; it’s everything, it’s the way heeseung’s lips move against your own with an uncharacteristic amount of surety, the way his fingers have slipped under your shimmery black top (a “donation” from liv’s closet last homecoming), the way you can feel his body coming alive under your attention. if this is going where you think it’s going, the dreams you’ve been having about him at least once a week since you first met are about to come true.

heeseung is the first to break away again, but he looks less nervous than the first time. no, this time he looks flushed and tousled and so attractive it should be illegal. when he shifts his weight from his left to right foot, his body brushes against you and the heat of him is unmistakable. even if you couldn’t feel it, you can see the way his eyelids flutter and feel the way his chest shudders against yours. you can’t help yourself; you need him.

“come back to my dorm,” you whisper breathlessly, words manifesting physically in a cloud of fog. “please.”

the boy squeezes his eyes shut again, looks up towards the sky, draws that deep breath he’s so fond of right now. you almost back out, almost say it was a joke; he just confessed his feelings and you kissed twice, so maybe it’s all a little much for him. you really like him and you don’t want to scare him off; besides, what you’re feeling right now is nothing you can’t take care of on your own back in your dorm room. just as you’re about to tell him that he can say no, he’s seemingly talked himself up enough because he looks down at you, smiles, kisses you on his own accord, and then takes your hand.

“lead the way,” he says.

you and heeseung stop at least five times on the way back to your dorm room to makeout, giggling into each other’s mouths as he presses you against a tree on the greens or as you pull him into the pools of darkness between streetlamps. every moment has him growing more confident, more certain that this isn’t just a hookup or a dream.

somewhere along the way, you text liv and tell her that you’re heading home because you’re not feeling well. it’s not farfetched, seeing as you’d broken away from her in the first place because you were feeling too hot. what happened between your departure and when the text is sent is entirely irrelevant right now. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and she’ll hear about it sooner rather than later anyways. 

it takes you maybe a full twenty minutes to reach your building, a feat considering how drunk you are and how obsessed you’ve been with heeseung for the last half hour. you fully expected it to take longer, but now, you stand under the golden glow of the entry to your dorm building, heeseung unlocking the door for you because you’re a little too gone right now and unwilling to take your hands off him,standing next to him, your arms hugging his free one while you lean your cheek against his shoulder. he fumbles with the key, muttering about how they should change to a keycard system instead, but he gets it eventually and you’re in.

after that, it’s practically a mad dash up to your dorm room on the third floor. your hand is twined tight around heeseung’s as you lead him up the stairs, too impatient to take the elevator right now. somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re glad that you took the time to clean your room today after class; heeseung will see a polished side of you, one that puts laundry away as soon as they’re out of the dryer, one that has glowing golden fairy lights above the window that gild your room in warmth, one that leaves books and binders stacked neatly in the shelf on your desk. not that he’ll be paying attention to any of it anyways, what with the way you can feel his cock pressing incessantly against you as you unlock your bedroom door, hot and straining.

agonizing seconds stretch into what feels like even more agonizing hours, but eventually, you get the door unlocked and guide him inside, stepping into the glow of your string lights that you’d left on before you left. you don’t even have to turn yourself around to look at him because he does it for you, turning you by your waist, pressing you fast against the back of the now-closed door.

his mouth is on yours in an instant, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, no doubt tasting the fruit punch yeonjun had added to tonight’s jungle juice recipe concoction. his hands are on your waist, curling hot into your skin, black mesh of your shirt scratching against you. it’s nice, how respectful he’s being right now, still ever the gentleman he’s been for the last month, but you don’t want nice and respectful right now. you’ve had literal dreams about this since you met him, driving your attraction to him higher with every one; you want mean and messy and rough, and that’s what you’ll get if it’s the last thing you do.

so in a bid to urge him towards where you’re really hoping this night goes, you grab at one of his wrists and drag his hand up to your chest, pressing his palm against your breast. you can feel his breath hitch against you and you smile into the kiss because how can he still be so shy when he’s kissed the breath out of you at least five times in the last forty-five minutes? either way, he gives a tentative squeeze and it feels mind blowingly good; you’ve never been one to really care much about attention focused on your tits, but heeseung makes it feel like maybe you should.

you get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, one of his hands kneading at your chest, the other slowly slipping under your top, rough fingertips drawing up and down the skin of your stomach, so far gone that you don’t notice the thigh he’s slotted between your legs until he grinds it up against you. it’s sudden and so well-earned, some much needed friction that you’ve been craving since that second kiss on the deck in lambda rho’s backyard. he does it a second time, the hard plane of his thigh coming up hard against your clit, and your knees buckle a little, dropping you further onto him. you moan sweetly into his mouth, tilting your head back against the door as the hand on your waist works your hips against him with a scary but uncharacteristic practiced certainty. he takes the absence of your mouth against his to trail kisses on your neck, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin, nipping and leaving love bites in his wake.

a well aimed grind of your hips, guided singularly by the boy in front of you, has you falling forward against his chest, your forehead pressed into the junction between his shoulder and neck. you keen against him in frustration, the crest rising but not breaking, no matter how hard to try to get it to.

“seung,” you cry against his skin, fingers curling tight into his sweater. “need more please.”

you almost sob in relief when you feel him nod against your neck, more so when you notice his own hips are stuttering against your leg that is bracketed by his. it’s enough to make you moan, the idea of him needing it just as much as you that he’s trying to hold himself back from getting off on your thigh too.

pressing your palms flat against his chest, you guide heeseung backwards in the direction of your bed (which you’re very suddenly glad you haven’t lofted). when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, he makes quick work of kicking his shoes off and then scrambling up so that his back rests against the wall. you follow suit, toeing off your party shoes and crawling onto his lap where he’s waiting patiently, his eyes wide and the browns of his eyes drowned out by his pupils. he’s breathing hard, chest heaving.

he looks up at you as you situate yourself, his hands coming to rest on your waist again. the expression on his face is nothing short of worshipful, like you’re a deity here to wrench your well-earned respect from his hands. and he is clearly ready to hand it over without a single fight. he guides you down onto him and you follow his hands willingly, your thighs straddling his and your clothed cunt just barely grazing against his hard-on until you settle down completely in his lap, not a centimeter of distance between you. the friction and pressure have both of you gasping wordlessly and heeseung tugs desperately at your hips. you fall into him, arms around his neck and pulling him to meet you halfway, lips locked once more. you give a tentative roll of your hips and heeseung moans into your mouth, just the reaction you were anticipating.

“fuck,” he moans the second time you do it. “you’re so good.”

you’re already hot, seared through to the bone, but you feel yourself go even warmer under heeseung’s praise. you’ve imagined this a million times over the last few weeks, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. you kiss him harder, breathe him in deep to prove to yourself that this is real, that heeseung lee is under you right now, bucking his hips up into you and matching your movements, about to make you come just from a little bit of dry humping. it would be embarrassing if you weren’t both half-gone and ridiculously desperate.

you continue to rut against him, panting hot and heavy into his mouth as he swallows every single moan and whimper you let out just to return them tenfold, his hands working you over him with a rushed ease. every roll of your hips is met with his own presses upwards. he’s working you higher and higher with each move, closer to the precipice, and while you’ve never before thought you’d find yourself in a position like this, if heeseung makes you come without taking a single item of clothing off either of you, then so be it.

as if he’s read your thoughts, he presses you back and away from him. you open your eyes for the first time in minutes and take him in: messy hair, flushed cheeks, bruised lips. no wet dream could have ever prepared you for how beautiful he looks right now.

but no matter how pretty you think he is in this moment, the sudden absence of friction has you whining loudly, pitched high and tight. when you speak, your voice trembles out of frustration. “heeseung, why’d you stop?”

he sucks in a breath and moves to push at your shoulders some more. “don’t- fuck- don’t wanna come yet, not like this.”

if you weren’t already so fucked out, you would have giggled, but right now, you just feel exasperated. he’s right; you don’t want to come like this either, but you’d also come to terms with it because it would mean that you would at least be getting the release you’re so desperately craving. and that’s been ripped away from you, at least for the moment. but when he looks up at you again, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes still wide with need, you fold immediately.

“tell me what you want.” he’s practically begging you and it sends a thrill through you, liquid lightning straight to your heart. “please.”

and how can you deny him when he’s asked you so sweetly or when you’re just as needy as he is? at this point, whatever he’d offer, you would take gladly. he’s gazing at you now, waiting anxiously for an answer, not that you have a set one; you want him in any way he wants you, nothing else matters more than that. but you take in his swollen lips and lithe fingers and your mind is off to the races.

“i-” you start, but stumble over your words. you’d been incredibly forward when you’d kissed him first, but you’ve lost all of that fire now. you can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want, even though you’re certain he’d do anything you’d ask of him.

“c’mon,” he coaxes, fingers kneading into your shoulders to ground you. “whatever you want.”

the sound of his voice is earnest, nothing short of honest, and it makes you want to trust him more than anything. so you do. you draw in a steadying breath and curl your hands into his sweater as you work yourself up to it.

“will you-” another breath. “would you eat me ou-”

“yes,” he immediately answers. you don’t even get a chance to finish the question. “fuck. i thought you’d never ask.”

he moves his hands to cup your face and pulls you into him, kissing you sweetly, his nose bumping against yours. the minuscule break in sexual tension, while in most situations would be a mood killer, is nice because it just further cements that this isn’t some random one night stand; you want to see him every day for the rest of your life after this, if he’ll let you.

somewhere between the kiss and when he breaks away from you, he’s maneuvered you so that you’re laying back against your pillows. you’ve also managed to discard your shirt (thank god, the glitter and mesh combo was starting to irritate your skin something fierce) and he’s working to get your pants off, fingers fumbling with the button; it’s as frustrating as it is adorable and he swats your hands out of the way when you reach down to help him, deadset on doing it himself, which he does manage (eventually, after a few incredibly long moments). you help him shimmy down your jeans and panties by lifting your hips a little and then you are inarguably bare in front of him, a position you’d never imagined you would be in.

and maybe heeseung is a little wonderstruck too because for a few long seconds, he sits there and stares at you in all your naked glory (or nearly naked glory, seeing as you haven’t taken your bra off yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind). you’re starting to get a little bashful and have to nudge him with a bent knee to pull him out of his stupor. he’s impossibly red at the tips of his ears as he murmurs a sweet apology that comes accompanied by a “you’re just so pretty.”

before you can muster a reply, he’s situating himself between your legs, hands pressing softly against your inner thighs to draw them apart, set eyes on his real destination. you lift your head just a little bit, watching as his eyes widen as he takes all of you in, his breath hot against your folds. his fingers curl tight into the soft skin of your thighs and you whimper at the sting, equally painful as it is exhilarating. he makes an indistinguishable groan in the back of his throat before he’s completely devouring you.

plenty of your wet dreams about the boy between your legs right now have included this very scenario: his nose bumping carelessly against your clit, a suddenly confident tongue making a show of licking up all of your arousal, your thighs already trembling. but they never could have prepared you for the actual thing because he’s giving you what is quite possibly the best head you’ve ever had.

heeseung is eating you out like a man starved, it’s absolutely obscene. his tongue works you up fast, every little moan he lets out only contributing. somewhere in the midst, he says something that sounds like “you taste s’good,” but his words are drowned out by your own moans and the sound of his mouth working you over. every pass of his tongue over your folds is as close as you’ve ever gotten to heaven, but you’re lacking something to really shove you over that precipice; and now you know heeseung is so whipped he’ll do anything you ask him to.

“seung,” you gasp out breathlessly, untangling one hand from your comforter so you can wind your fingers into his hair. he looks up at you, doe eyes big and wide and glimmering with his eyebrows drawn together, a questioning look without pulling away to speak. you’re about to ask him when his nose bumps hard against your terribly sensitive clit and your word breaks off before the first syllable can even leave your lips. “fuck— seung, can you— can you add your fingers?”

you’re not quite used to asking for what you want, at least verbally; maybe it’s because any previous partners weren’t keen on getting you to verbalize, maybe it’s because they never particularly cared and just did what they thought was good. but heeseung is pliant and willing to please in any way he can, so you feel less embarrassed this time around because he’s made it entirely clear that your pleasure is his main priority.

he doesn’t nod, doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes again and goes back to work. you almost think he either didn’t hear you or is straight up ignoring you before you feel it. he pulls his hand from your right thigh slowly, letting his fingertips drag lightly against your skin; the menace is teasing you, where did that come from? but you don’t even have much time to internally complain about him holding out on you because he’s suddenly slipping two fingers into you, long, deft limbs that expertly seek out that spot inside you. he presses against it once, twice, three times, each one drawing out a whine from you.

it’s just what you need, the extra friction pushing you up that incline, closer and closer to the dropoff. when your back arches off the bed and your thighs close around his head, boxing him in against your pussy, heeseung knows he’s got you right where you want to be and then he doesn’t let up. it’s an onslaught of pressure, four different points of sensation, and you’re on the verge of tears. he’s making a complete mess of you, utilizing all he can to get you over that edge. you’re whining his name like it’s the only word you know, “yes” and “fuck” and “oh my god” getting lost in your slurred speech; he’d be evil incarnate if he denied you what you’re so beautifully begging for.

he presses incessantly at that spongy place inside you, nose bumping against your little bundle of nerves, moans growing more frequent, all while his tongue tries to catch every single drop of arousal. and then there you go, ecstasy taking over like liquid heat in your veins. his name sounds like pure euphoria on your tongue, mixed with your moans and whines. he thinks he could come just from this alone, your cum in his mouth and your thighs pressed tight around him, but he holds off because there’s only one place he wants to leave his release (if you’ll let him, that is).

“shit.” 

you sound fucked out, completely gone and heeseung swears he’s never heard anything sexier. you tug at his hair a little bit, feeling completely overstimulated but still so good, a shock to your system as he pulls his fingers out of you and lets his tongue work over you just a little bit longer (to make sure you’re clean, he reasons to himself). 

eventually, he does pull away and you have to fight the urge to whine again. his eyes are unfocused and glossed over, his chin practically dripping in your arousal. hell, his tongue darts out to get the last little bit of your cum at the corner of his lips and you nearly orgasm all over again.

“was it good?” he asks softly and you barely hold yourself back from laughing. he just made you come harder than any previous partner ever has, given you the best head in the world, and he’s asking you if it was good? he’s insane for thinking it was anything short of perfect.

but you don’t say that. you reach for his sweater, fingers curling tight into the cotton and tugging him down towards you. he catches himself by his hands, his arms bracketing you easily, before he completely crashes into you. there’s a long moment where he just stares down at you, lovestruck and pretty, before he lowers himself to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you moan a little bit, feeling a little embarrassed, but one of his hands moves from its place on the mattress to cradle your cheek and that alone drives it away. 

one of your arms sneaks over his shoulder, your fingers tangling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, while the other sneaks under his sweater, the shirt he wears underneath until the tips of your fingers brush the soft, pliant skin of his stomach. you can feel the gentle ridges of abs and a small piece of you shivers with giddiness. regardless, you enjoy a few seconds of running your fingers over his stomach before you push a little more incessantly at the offending pieces of material. he takes it for what it is: a plea to get rid of the clothes. after all, it’s not fair that you’re almost entirely undressed and he hasn’t taken a single article off.

you watch dazedly as heeseung sits back onto his heels, your eyes following his arms as he crosses them over himself, grasps at the hems, pulling them over his torso, his arms, his head before they land haphazardly on the floor next to your bed. every inch revealed to you makes your mouth water, his skin taut and soft and glowing in your fairy lights. you can’t help but remind yourself that dreams and an overactive imagination could never live up to the real thing because he’s very much the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

you’re entirely prepared to continue your makeout session, but heeseung seems to have other ideas because once his tops are discarded, he begins making work of his jeans. you make a soft noise in the back of your throat when you realize what he’s doing and he looks up at you, fingers stilling at his belt, his eyes wide.

“is something wrong?”

he sounds so sincere, it kind of makes you want to cry. but you shake your head earnestly, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can look at him better. “no, no! everything is fine. i guess i just wasn’t expecting you to take your pants off so soon.”

he quirks an eyebrow at you and dons that pretty little smile of his, teasing but not really. “well, you’re almost completely undressed. figured it was only right that i do the same, y’know?”

and you laugh a little because it’s true and because he’s just so cute, he laughs too, soft and quiet. you generally think sleeping with someone is fun, but you’ve never had as much fun as you are right now. maybe it’s because it’s with heeseung and you like him so much already, so the playfulness comes easy; it doesn’t feel tense the way it has with others.

so you watch him handle his belt, the button on his jeans, the zipper. you watch, mouth watering once more, as he slips out of them, leaving his boxers, which have a dark wet patch on them. the sight alone would make you groan, but you can see the outline of his cock and you almost lose it completely. so you decide to resume the impatient act because you are still very much so; as cute as the playful routine is, you haven’t forgotten the exhilarating rush of trying to get to your dorm as fast as possible and the unpracticed fumbling that’s followed since then.

you reach for him and he doesn’t hesitate, letting you pull him on top of you by his shoulders, fitting your mouths together in a messy kiss, all teeth and tongues. your hands are in his hair again, his own slide underneath you to make work of your bra, unclasping it and then pulling the straps away from your shoulders, down your arms, making you let go of him for a quick few seconds so that he can pull it off completely and toss it god knows where in your room.

you’re distantly aware that you’re entirely bare to him now, but his mouth is working at your throat, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck (he is strangely good at distracting you, you’re learning), so you don’t feel as shy as you did just a handful of minutes ago. either way, he’s sucking hickies into your shoulders, your collarbones, any skin that has a little bit of give to it that lets him leave love bites in his wake. so lost in the haze, you realize a little too late that he’s working his way towards your chest, but it doesn’t even matter, not when he has one hand kneading at one and his mouth at the other, tracing lines over your skin to quell the sting of each pinch, each little nip of teeth. your nipples pebble under his attention and while this never usually does much for you, you still find yourself getting antsy because it’s heeseung. everything he’s done for weeks has gotten you worked up, why would that stop now?

it doesn’t help that he’s grinding against you, his hips canting against your own for any semblance of friction. your arousal is no doubt contributing to the wet patch on his boxers and the idea of it almost has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. his cock feels hot and heavy against your folds, the head bumping against your clit, and all of it feels so delicious that you let out a crisp, high whine, twining your fingers into heeseung’s soft hair and tugging gently.

he pulls himself away from your chest and when you look at him, you almost moan. his lips are swollen, slick with spit, and his gaze has gone misty. he looks at you expectantly, blinking slow and lips pouted as he waits. you’re not even sure what you want from him right now, at least nothing specific because you want everything from him. you’re about to tell him to go back to doing what he was originally because it did feel good, but then he lands a particularly well-timed grind against you and you’re gasping.

“fuck,” you whimper, tossing your head back a little. your fingers tighten in his hair and from somewhere south of you, he laughs a little, light and easy and airy.

“that what you want from me?” he questions, pulling himself up over you, catching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. in any other situation, it might come off as intimidating and teasing, but heeseung is all doe-eyed and halfway to heaven right now, so it comes off more desperate to please than anything. either way, you nod. “all you had to do was ask. you know that.”

you nod and pull him down to kiss you by the fingers you have twisted in his hair. he groans against you, moving his hand from your chin to your jaw, angling you just so. somewhere in the kiss, you murmur a soft, “seung, i want you,” and he groans a little, nodding against you. he pulls away and you chase after him, but he’s sitting up, moving lightning quick to get his boxers off, abandoned somewhere on the linoleum floor with everything else.

and then it hits you that you’re both completely bare. you lean back on your elbows, looking him over once more, though your focus lingers mostly on the skin newly revealed to you. his thighs are toned and sturdy, the skin plush, and while you’d love to stare at them a little bit more, your attention is quickly drawn to his dick. it’s big, the head an agitated red and leaking precum, and your mouth is watering at the thought of getting him in your position and giving him the best head of his life.

you actually start to move to do so, but heeseung anticipates it and moves quick, pressing you back into your mattress. his dark doe eyes are drowning in desire and you shudder under his gaze. he’s on you again instead, hips melded to yours in your nth kiss tonight. he’s got his weight rested on one elbow beside your head while his other arm is free to move around, his hand tracing from your shoulder, your chest, smoothing across your stomach. 

his fingers eventually land on your thigh, curling into the soft inner flesh, and he hikes it up around his waist before dropping his hand to his cock. his lips trail from your lips to your neck and shoulders, nipping at the skin as he jerks himself off. you toss your head back against your pillows, whimpering at every little graze of his teeth against your skin. 

but what’s really driving you crazy is the heat of him against you. the head of his cock bumps against your clit, this time with no fabric barrier separating them, and you’re not sure if heeseung is even meaning for the touch, but it has you feeling hot all over again, slick leaking out of you again. you’re getting impatient, heel pressing hard into his lower back and your fingernails biting into the flesh of his biceps.

“heeseung,” you whine out, canting your hips up against his; you hear him suck in a breath through clenched teeth, a hiss of air. “need you.”

he shivers against you, a teary whimper of “need you too” granted in return as he pulls his face from your neck so that he can watch you as he finally gets to what you’ve wanted since this whole thing started. on a short teasing streak, he taps the head of his cock against your clit and you whine, turning your head into your pillow and curling your fingers into his arms, which earns a laugh.

“stop playing,” you tell him, rolling your hips upwards and into him.

he hisses again and bites at his bottom lip, nodding. he slips from your clit to your entrance and even just the little shred of pressure you get has you wanting to moan out for him. but then he starts pressing in all the way, slipping into your cunt with ease and you are not prepared for just how full you feel. your back arches and he lets off a tempered moan, stifled through a lip bite. when he bottoms out, his hips flush with your own, you release a breath as you adjust to the size of him, which doesn’t take long.

“seung,” you drawl, grabbing his attention. “move please.”

and he does as you bid, pulling out before he thrusts back in. it takes a few moments for him to find a pace that works, but when he does, it’s perfect. his hips roll against yours delectably, the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared moans filling the small dorm room. he’s shored up over you, one elbow pressed deep into the thin mattress holding him up, and when your eyes aren’t squeezed tight in ecstasy, you watch the way he bites his lip, furrows his eyebrows, shudders as you clench around him.

“god, you’re s’tight. feels so good,” he whimpers at one point, his head hanging over your own as he tries to keep a steady pace. his words are shattered, breaking off in the middle or slurred together, a verbal manifestation of how you physically feel.

one thrust hits that just right spot inside you and you can’t hold but moan loudly, back arching off the mattress and your head pressing into your pillows. heeseung inhales sharply above you as you clench tight around him and then, with you still keening, you feel him sit up, taking his warmth with him. his hands are on your hips seconds later and he’s angling you, doing everything in his power to replicate it again and again.

“fuck, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, one hand on your thigh and the other working deft fingers on your clit. he’s a quick learner it seems because all of it is coming together to whisk your orgasm closer, a wave of white heat washing over you. “saw you at my frat’s halloween party ‘nd thought you were so pretty. woulda come up t’you that night if i knew you felt this good.”

your breath hitches more than it has all night and you cant your hips upwards in an attempt to meet his thrusts. somewhere in the midst of your pleasure, you tell him you’re going to come and he nods fast, fingers going into overtime to get you there. that knot inside you winds up tight and then snaps like a rubber band stretched too thin, hot and fast. your pussy locks around his cock and then he’s there above you, bracing himself with his hand, to swallow the particularly sharp whine of his name you let out and any stray too-loud moans that might slip away and wake the neighbors (as if you haven’t already).

when your vision finally clears and your thighs stop trembling, his hips are still snapping into yours to seek his own release, pushing you into the territory of overstimulation, but any pain you have bleeds into pleasure until you can’t tell which is which; the only thoughts you can manage are that heeseung feels heavenly inside you that it’s almost blinding and you don’t know if you even really want him to stop. 

but his hips begin to stutter, his cock twitching against your fluttering walls, and you faintly register that he’s about to pull out of you. blindly, your hand searches for any part of him to pull him back over you, legs locking around his waist. he protests, some flurry of words about how he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable (not a single one intelligible), while you whine and pull him towards you by his shoulder.

“wanna feel you, seung,” you say, a limp arm winding around him and inching him closer until your noses are brushing and you can feel his breath fanning across you, still smelling faintly of his alcohol from earlier. “don’t worry about it, ‘kay? y’said you’d do anything, so please. i wanna feel you s’bad.”

that seems to be enough to egg him on because he nods and you catch him in a messy kiss before he groans against your lips as he finally comes. he lands a few more sharp thrusts that have you whining, fucking his cum into you, before he finally falls still. his breath is hot on your shoulder as he recovers.

usually, once you’re done, your select partner of the night pulls out, maybe cleans you up, and then leaves. it’s been a while since you’ve had someone who wants to stay (at least, you hope heeseung wants to stay) and you’re not quite sure where to go from here. there hadn’t really been much discussion about where your relationship was going to lead after this, even with all of the lingering glances on campus and your impromptu study sessions at the library, so you’re worrying a little about what comes after.

stuck in your own head, you don’t even notice that heeseung has pulled his head from your shoulder and is looking at you until his thumb works your bottom lip out from beneath your teeth and then wipes away some of the sweat at your hairline. the furrow of his eyebrows carve deep lines into the space between them as he studies you, looking like an angel with the way the fairy lights strung up above him give him a faint golden halo.

“what’re you thinking about?” he asks softly, brushing his fingers across your cheek. it’s a wholly different energy than just a few minutes ago, but the change isn’t unwelcome.

you shrug, blinking up at him and reaching to push some of his hair out of his eyes, the strands matted to his forehead with sweat. “just wondering what we do now, i guess.”

heeseung’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles a little, his shoulders shaking with a breathy little laugh. you almost punch at his shoulder for laughing at you when he cranes his head down to kiss you gently, the first that isn’t rushed in some way. he nudges your nose with his when he pulls back just a little bit.

“can we worry about all the big stuff later?” he questions; you feel the words as much as you hear them, his lips barely brushing your own as he says them. “for now, how about we clean up first and then… i’m hungry. are you?”

it’s your turn to laugh, but you nod. you’re still a little drunk, your however many cups of jungle juice compared to his measly one whiskey.

“so we clean up and then go get taco bell? it’s, like, the only fast food place still open at this hour.”

“you do know that the line is gonna be insane, right? like, half of campus goes there after getting drunk.”

heeseung lets another quiet laugh loose and sits up, pulling you up with him and then into his lap, his dick still snug inside you. the feel of it doesn’t wind you up again like you thought it might, but it’s a nice reminder that he’s here, that this all actually happened. he rests a hand on your thigh and lets his thumb trace lines into the skin there absently.

“then i guess we’ll have time to talk about what you wanna do now,” he says sincerely, the smile on his face soft.

you have so many words you want to say, a million sentences tornadoing in your head right now, all jumbled up and lacking any sense of coherency. so instead, you cup his cheeks in your hands and return the kiss from just a few moments ago. he meets you halfway, all soft and pliant and giving, everything you could have dreamed up.

“wanna shower?” you ask when you pull away, giggling when he chases after you for another kiss. “feel like it might be a little more effective than a rag.”

the boy raises an eyebrow and eyes you suspiciously. “you tryin’ to go for a round two? because that’s what it sounds like right now.”

you push at his shoulders and laugh when he catches your wrists in his hands, pulling you into a third kiss. “wasn’t my intention, but i won’t turn down the idea.”

“i’ll think about it,” he responds as he taps at your hips and lifts you off of him. his seed starts to leak out with his cock no longer there to hold it in and you feel incomplete without him, but when he stands and offers you a hand to help you out of bed, suddenly the feeling of emptiness isn’t as oppressive.

you teeter across your room, opening the wardrobe to pull out the two towels you have and your shower caddy. heeseung accepts the towel you extend to him graciously, wrapping it around his waist. when you’re done securing your own towel, he’s already waiting for you by the door, one hand on the knob and the other reaching out towards you once you get close enough to him. and then you’re two people walking down the hall hand in hand, wrapped in matching pink towels towards the unisex bathroom. it’s a little unconventional, maybe, but you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

liv probably would though, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. heeseung’s your little secret after all.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[cocteaucherry]

her way

summary- you were once on top of the world, unfortunately that was taken away from you, but all of a sudden two men, the best at their sports ask for help.

tags- 18+, mentions of bruises, anxiety, broken bones, anxiety attack, ooc probably for some characters, maybe some smut (or threesome) in further chapters. figure skating (can you tell I used challengers for inspo?) gojo x reader, geto x reader, female reader

a/n- (making my monthly comeback, also thank you for 200 followers every like and follow means the universe to me! debating on a chp 1

you once were on top of the world

Doing the thing you loved every day every second, the costumes, the flair, the elegance.

Your long time senior coach, Yuki, made sure to always support you, even.. if she usually made it to rehearsal thirty minutes late.

“Yeah yeah that was great! But make sure you’re more solid off your double jump!” Yuki smirked leaning against the short wall of the skating rink.

“Weren’t you on your phone half the time?” You raised an eyebrow panting loudly as Yuki gave you a coy laugh.

“See? Stop paying attention to me and you’ll land your jumps.”

Oh how cynical it would be for you in the future.

You had officially made it to the Grand Prix finals, the world's eyes battering down your whole back, at least that’s how it felt to you.

You sat stretching your legs, the world around you invisible until you went on in approximately nine minutes and ten seconds. Your nerves were particularly bad today but you couldn’t focus on that right now.

You were so out of it you didn’t even notice the figure approaching you, all you saw were long legs in dark sweatpants.

You peered through your eyelashes to see the figure standing in front of you, snowy hair and sunglasses inside? Sheesh, how arrogant could this guy be?

“Y/N, right?” A grin appeared on his smug face as his hands slid into his pockets, “yeah? Is there something I can do for you?” You grunted standing up your eyes physically widening as you saw how tall he really was, getting a good look at his face and you began to recognize the man.

“Wait.. you look familiar..?”

His face drained of color as he cleared his throat, “Satoru Gojo, two time gold winner?” He pointed towards his face, “Figure skating Mozart on the ice rink?- wait you seriously don’t know who I am?!”

“I was kidding, MAYBE I’ve heard of you,” you chuckled and he let out a huff of frustration, “You’re good friends with.. what’s his name? Suguru Geto correct? I’ve heard he’s the Prince of Ice, huh?”

“That’s correct, he’s also fairly talented.” Satoru hummed in an almost annoyed tone? You pushed it off not thinking much of it.

“Must be hard huh? I mean being best friends in this line of business and somehow you always come out on top?” You questioned staring closely through Satoru’s glasses, you could almost clearly see the bright blue of his eyes peeking through the expensive lenses.

“Ahhh,” he grinned, adjusting his shades, “Suguru and I don’t lose our minds over a little friendly competition.”

“The Grand Prix is a friendly competition for you?” You scoffed crossing your arms and he nodded bashfully, “when you have no one to compete against it’s not really a competition.”

“Right, well I’m gonna get going soon.”

You desperately wanted to cut the conversation short but talking to him seemed to ease your nerves tremendously, “Thanks for talking with me though!” you smiled brightly getting set to walk towards the rink.

Satoru wanted to talk more but his words were caught in his throat, “I’ll cheer you o-on!” His voice fucking cracked and he wanted to slam his head against the wall.

Yuki stood nervously and annoyed at your apparent “lateness”

“Y/N! What the hell? You were supposed to be here a few minutes ago?” Her face was red with anxiety it seemed.

“I'm still here on time! Don’t worry Yuki,” you groaned and a smile appeared on her face, “I know I know, you should’ve been here though I was just talking to a certain someone you should be interested in,”

“Really? Who?” You said enthusiastically but before Yuki could start your name was called over the intercoms to get on the ice, you slid your windbreaker off revealing your light purple bedazzled costume. “I’ll tell you after, get out there and don’t fuck up!” Yuki pulled you into a quick hug before lightly pushing you into the direction you needed to go.

“Awhh, cmon Yuki!” You groaned walking your way carefully onto the ice, your mind repeating your step and jump sequences in your head.

Your legs jittered but you took deep breaths skating to your starting position.

Your routine started and you were doing great, landing your jumps, your spins were fluid and solid and then the second half was ending. Your routine was coming to a close and all you had to do was nail a double jump pretty simple right?

Then how come whenever you were in the starting position something felt off..

you were in the middle of the air getting ready to land before your ankle had twisted in the wrong direction causing you to eat absolute shit on the ice.

A loud CRACK! Resounded itself along with the searing hot pain your ankle felt as you tumbled on the ice, Oh God let this be a bad dream please God..

Hot tears poured down your face as you heard the quick loud flashes of cameras and the loud whispers of the crowd, your heartbeat sped faster and faster and you swore you were going to blackout, which is what you did.

You woke up from the blaring fluorescent lights and the steady beeps of the machines around you, your mother and father sat next to you with bated breath as your mother immediately jumped to hug you crying into your shoulder.

You groggily searched the room for Yuki only to find her in the hallway talking to the doctor, this wasn’t gonna end well.

You peered down at the large cast encasing your ankle and the bruises that crowded your leg, you wanted to cry but no tears came out.

Hours later you finally decided to turn on the TV, wanting to avoid seeing you eat shit on 4K you were instead met with a different kind of news.

Males singles winners,

Bronze- Yui Haibara

Silver- Satoru Gojo

Gold- Suguru Geto

Satoru had lost? You wondered how he felt right now, sure a small smile was on his face but he was adamant on winning.

Just like clockwork Yuki had come in holding two vases of flowers, “How you holding up?” She asked walking to the counter placing the vases down,

“‘As well as you think, everyone’s kind though.” You’ve gotten multiple concerned texts from figure skaters and fans and while you greatly appreciated it your face burned in embarrassment. How could you have messed up horribly?

“Of course they are, Goddess of the Ice,” Yuki hummed, checking the cards attached to the vases, “Well look at that, flowers from both Gojo and Geto.”

“Really? I feel honored.” You smiled but it quickly faded, “Tell me how bad it is Yuki.”

Yuki sighed leaning on the counter, “Well, your ankle is pretty fucked up.. might be time for you to look at possibly retiring.”

Your coach’s words circled in your head as you took a plane trip back to your hometown, your mother and father agreed to look after you in the meantime as you sought out your decision.

The past few days you had been in limbo, just living but no substance you even spaced out mid conversation with your best friend Utahime.

She offered you a place in her family’s shop where you could spend your hours conversing instead of just sitting around the house.

“Okay! Would you rather take care of ten newborn babies or fight a judo boxer?” Utahime asked, flipping through the channels of the front counter TV.

“We’ve played this for twenty minutes!” You groaned, placing your head in your hands, “the ten babies sound great though.”

Utahime had childishly given you a coloring book but you didn’t complain, you continued to scribble, enjoying the blissful silence with the occasional talk of the TV.

The bell of the front door opening broke you out of your silence, but before you could look up the voice seemed to give it away.

“Y/N! Long time no see!”

Your eyes were brought up to see the familiar sight you were “graced” with 5 weeks ago.

“Think we could talk for a minute?”

[spicywhenspeaking]

If I’m There Chapter: Twenty-Four

read from part one here!

summary: Noah and Natalie met in high school and developed a relationship through their love of music and art. Falling in love, innocent and young, they think nothing can keep them apart. However, sometimes in the pursuit of your dreams the things we love the most get left behind.

this is a complete work of fiction, some characters while based on real people are totally made up. :)

Taglist: @lma1986 @cookiesupplier @notingridslurkaccount @blackveilomens@thisbicc @laurpartyprogram @concretenoah@thebadchic @madomens@samanthasgone @myownthoughts12@missduffsblog@jilliemiw86 @malerieee @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @badomenslrh @robabankfuckmickeymouse

(You're waiting for the)

Day to come when thеy will notice

(It is time to wake up now)

Fighting battlеs at your lowest

(Your fire is dying out)

Dragging every step forward

But it won't happen again

And I'm not gonna pretend

(I don't want the money)

(Want the money)

Noah sent Erin a CD with a playlist of their songs he hoped she would like. She has been blaring it loudly for days since she opened the package. She’s been listening to it nonstop and now sings along to the lyrics.

Can't say I'm mad, this is entertainment

But I want what they have and I'm gonna take it

And I'm so sorry if I'm cynical

My water's full of chemicals

I don't know what I'm made of anymore

“Sweetie! Lunch is ready!” I call out to her over the sound of the music as I place the plate I made for her, buttered noodles with grilled chicken with roasted broccoli and fresh fruit. 

Erin races down the stairs humming along to one of the songs she’s been listening to. 

“Yum! Thanks, Mom!” she says, plopping down to dig into her pasta. I sit alongside her and eat my plate. 

“So Noah said he will be back in less than a week, we will get a few days to hang out before you go to art camp,” I mention softly and she smiles brightly. “I’m excited to see him again, we should take him to the skating rink where Ashley had her birthday party, Oh! Oh! And we have to have a game night before I go to camp.” she exclaims excitedly. I laugh and nod, “Of course honey, we will have to ask him when he gets into town.” Her smile continues to grow as we talk and I am happy to see her so excited about spending more time with Noah. She talked to me after one of her last therapy sessions and the weight of guilt has lessened tremendously after our conversation. Her little heart is full of so much love. In the future, her feelings may change and she may have more questions or even anger and I am prepared to help her with those feelings when they arise. 

After lunch, I drop Erin off at Gwen’s apartment in her senior center to spend some time with her while I head to work for a few appointments I have set up. Gwen is freshly 75 and loving life in her new senior apartment complex and loves having Erin over to hang out. She welcomes us with big hugs and the smell of freshly baked cookies. “My girls, I’m so happy to see you both!” she greets us warmly. “Gweny! Omg, I have so much to talk to you about! Noah sent me some music and it’s awesome! I have to show you some.” Erin gushes to Gwen as she walks into the living room to set her backpack down. “Oh and I brought some paints so we can do some crafts, I wanted to paint the flowers you have on your balcony.” 

Gwen with her arm slung delicately around my shoulder laughs softly, “You made the sweetest girl in the world, I hope you know how much of that comes from you.”  I rest my head against hers and sigh contently. “Thank you, Gwen, I owe so much of her to you. You have helped so much when I moved and have been there for everything in her life. I’m so grateful for you.” I tell her as Erin runs around Gwens’ new apartment. “Well, I need to head out for my appointments. Hey, little one! I gotta go.” I call over to Erin and she runs to give me a quick hug before going back to explore the new space. I hug Gwen again and kiss her softly on the cheek. “I’ll be back later, maybe closer to 8:30. Thank you again, love you both!” I say to them as I walk out the front door and head back to the car. 

My appointments go by fast today, A few line work pieces and the first session of a large back piece. On my way out the door, I get a surprising phone call from Noah. 

Hey! Nat, how are you?

Hey Noah! I’m good, just finished up work for the day and I’m about to head to Gwen’s to pick up Erin. 

How was your day? Any fun ink?

Haha yes, I started on a sweet back piece that will take a few more sessions to finish.

That is awesome!

So I wanted to call and ask about something.

Oh? What’s up? Is everything okay?

yes, yes, everything is great! I just bought my ticket to Austin and wanted to see if you could grab me from the airport on Thursday?  

Oh! Of course, that’s no problem at all. 

Are you sure? I mean I could  figure out the car rental thing if that’s easier 

Oh hush Noah, it’s really not a big deal! We’d be happy to pick you up. 

Erin has been talking nonstop about you coming back to town. She’s making many plans to fit in plenty of activities before art camp next week.

Thank you Natty, I’m excited to see you both. My flight will land around 12 pm but our Airbnb won’t be ready until 4 pm. The other guys won’t be out until later next week. 

Sounds like a plan! We will scoop you up when you land and grab some lunch, Erin will be happy to hear the news.

Have a good night Natty, Lo- Bye! *click* 

“Hello? Noah? Umm okay, bye” I put my phone back in my bag, shake the weirdness off, and just get ready to head to pick up Erin and give her the exciting news. 

Gwen texted me what they decided on pizza for dinner, so I quickly run through the Dan’s Hamburgers drive-through to grab a big cheeseburger and curly fries.

Eating my dinner quickly on the road I switch on the radio and turn between channels until I find a familiar female voice. It takes me back to being a little kid in my parent’s car on a long car ride home.

“Hey there, It’s Delilah here with a collection of love songs to set your night off right. I know love comes and goes and I hope you find a love in your life that brings you the most joy and fills your heart with wonder.” 

Her soft voice drifts through my car and I settle into listening to the rest of her radio show until I get to Gwen’s. The love songs drift through the air…

So break my step

And relent

You forgave and I won't forget

Know what we've seen

And him with less

Now in some way

Shake the excess

'Cause I will wait, I will wait for you

“Okay, Delilah I get it! I’m figuring it out…just get off my back.” I grumble at the radio and switch it to the next station. 

I may not always love you

But long as there are stars above you

You never need to doubt it

I'll make you so sure about it

God only knows what I'd be without you

“Oh fuck off,” I say as I shut off the radio and complete the ride in silence. 

Erin races to the door when we get to the car, “I had so much fun with Gweny but I am sooo tired.” she slugs against the door, and when I click the unlock button she quickly climbs into the seat and reclines it back.

I laugh at her actions, shutting her eyes and curling into herself. “That’s what happens when you stay up all night listening to music silly girl.” I laugh and she groans, “I want to learn all of the lyrics so I can sing along when we go to one of Noah’s shows.” she grumbles sleepy. 

“Well they have a break coming up, so you’ll have plenty of time to learn the songs.” I tell her, “Actually, Noah called me after work. He’ll be here Thursday and asked if we could pick him up from the airport on Thursday.” She perks up immediately, springing up from her seat in excitement, “That sounds great! I’m so excited, omg what should we do? We have to show him the diner and oh oh we can take him to the water park! Or we can go rollerblading!” the sleepy child I saw minutes ago is gone and she’s awoken with a new spark.

“Okay baby, we will see what he has the energy for, remember he’s coming off of a long tour, he might just want to grab lunch and hang out at the house. But we will have lots of time to do all of the things you want to.” She’s still glowing with excitement on the drive home. My appointments tomorrow are later in the morning so when we get inside the house we sit in the living room and put on a movie. Erin decides to watch “Encanto”.  Haylie is in her room, probably working on her newest book but pokes her head out to say hi and double-check Erin is staying home tomorrow, with a nod of approval she slinks back into her room to finish writing, “Okay byee love youuu!” she calls as the door closes. 

Halfway through the movie I look over and see Erin has fallen asleep, I finish the movie wiping tears from my face. “Damn Disney movie,” I mumble. I gently move her upstairs and place her in her bed. 

When I am finished freshening up and laying my head down the last thing that goes through my head before sleep takes over. “Have a good night Natty, Love you! Bye.”

My dreams are visions of a future with Noah and Erin. We’re together laughing on the beach, building a sandcastle. I see myself pregnant with another baby, Noah’s eyes brighten up as he places a gentle hand on my stomach and kisses me. Sitting on the sand next to them my hands dig into the sand as the water washes up and the castle returns to the sea. The dream fades and twists into a new vision, Noah and I are arm and arm sitting on the couch watching a movie. The quiet domesticity makes my heart swell, the soft touches and gentle kisses. As his lips move down my neck a quiet gasp escapes me and my eyes shoot open as I vault myself up in bed breathlessly.

“Oh shit.” I say breathlessly, “Keep it together Nat.” 

By Thursday morning my nerves from my dream are taking over, I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach as we wait in the lot for Noah to get off his flight. 

Noah: hey! I’m at pick-up stop H! 

Natalie: Okay! We will be there in a sec! :)

Erin is vibrating with excitement from the backseat and as we turn the corner and see Noah standing with his bags smiling and waving. “There is he! Pull over! Pull over!” Erin yells from behind me. “Okay okay, I have to wait for this car to pass sweetie,” I tell her as a nervous blush creeps up my neck.

I pull up to the side and pop the trunk as Erin shoots out to the car and runs to jump up and wrap her little around Noah. “Noah! You’re back! I’m so excited! What do you what do you want to do? Are you hungry? Me and my Mom like this diner they have the best pancakes!” Erin’s voice rings out and I laugh as I throw the car quickly into park to greet Noah. 

“Hey, Erin! I missed you!” he says dropping his bags on the ground to wrap his arms around her and lift her into a big hug, “lunch sounds amazing.” He turns to me placing Erin back on her feet. She attempts to grab his large duffels off the ground as I round the front of the car and the butterflies flutter again as he brings me into a firm hug. “Hey Natty,” he whispers into my hair. “Hey, Noah,” I respond into his chest. Erin struggles with the bag lifting it into the trunk. “Oh, honey -” I start but Noah quickly rushes over to help throw his bags into the back. “Thanks, little one,” he says to her and ruffles her hair. 

Noah opens the back door and lets her climb back into the car while I move to the driver’s side as a parking guard starts to look like he’s heading closer. “We’re heading out!” Noah politely waves to the guard and gets into the passenger seat. 

Throwing the car back into drive I carefully pull out. “So lunch?” I ask and Noah and Erin agree in unison. “So Erin, your mom says you have a lot of plans? What is first on the list?”

“Do you know how to rollerblade?”

next chapter ->

[ckret2]

Chapter 17 of Human Bill Causes Problems And Ruins Relationships On Purpose (title TBD), featuring: Mabel and Ford, not letting their relationship be ruined.

They're gonna be okay.

Also: weird donuts, cool crystals, and summer class.

####

Mabel was out of sight by the time Ford exited the shop—stupid, why hadn't he chased her the second he saw her run? He knew Mabel was fast. He circled the block calling her name—there was nowhere she could have gone, this mixed-use building was surrounded by residential houses—and then he hurried back to the parking garage, worst case scenarios tumbling through his head.

When he spied her leaning against the trunk of Stan's car, he heaved a sigh of relief. "Mabel! You shouldn't run off like that in a strange city. Anything could have happened."

Mabel tightened her crossed arms, glaring at her shoes. "I'm better at taking care of myself than you think."

Ford's shoulders slumped. He stood there useless, the silence thick between them, grappling for something to say to cut through it.

He never did well with these thick, awkward, choking moments—the moment before Stan left home, the moment after Fiddleford left the portal project, all the moments on the phone with his parents or with Shermie when he couldn't think of anything they'd be truly interested to hear about his life or any questions he truly wanted them to answer. He'd lost a lot of relationships in those moments. "Mabel—you're not in trouble, and I'm... I'm not mad at you."

"Being disappointed isn't better."

"I'm not disappointed, either. Just... concerned."

Wrong word. Mabel looked up at Ford with a dark, furious look that reminded him unnervingly of a look Bill had given him a few days ago. (He still hadn't learned to identify this as the hallmark gaze of the defiant teenager.) Then she glared at the ground again. "I wanna go home."

If he took her home, it would be an agonizing hour and a half silence—and what were the odds she'd just run to Bill and tell him he'd been "right," and he'd fill her head with more poison? It was far too late to forbid her from talking to him without exacerbating the situation. Ford could force her to stay right here in Portland until he'd talked to her—he had the keys, the driver's license, and almost fifty years' seniority—but if he did that, she'd tune out anything he said.

And she'd be right to. Who was he to her except the other uncle, the one who'd spent a year lavishing attention on her brother and only asked to spend time with her as a trap to give her a lecture?

He leaned on the car trunk next to her and looked down at the top of Mabel's head. She was wearing a headband studded with rhinestones and plastic ruby earrings. She'd dressed up for this. Ford swallowed hard. "Mabel, I'm an idiot."

She didn't say anything.

"I am. I'm a fool. I put all my skill points in intelligence and zero in charisma." He paused. "Which... that sentence probably makes self-evident." He cleared his throat. "I started out bad at socializing, and not interacting with humans for thirty years didn't make me any better. So I don't have any idea what I'm doing here. But... I asked you to come here with me because I really do want to spend more time with you; and because Bill hurt me, and I love you too much not to make sure you're protected against him doing the same to you."

He put a hand on her shoulder, and when she didn't tense up or pull away, he went on: "I think I tried to do too much in one trip, and it just made what should have been a fun time... awkward for you. But, if it helps, it's awkward for me, too. We can be awkward together. We're on the same side, I promise."

Mabel let out a loud, snotty sniff. "You... really do wanna hang out with me?" Quieter, she asked, "Not just Dipper?"

"Of course I do!" Ford said. "But I don't blame you for doubting me. I... know I've spent less time with you than with Dipper. I thought he needed me more. I'm sorry it took this to make me make time for you like I should have all along."

"Was... was there ever really a crystal store on the highway?"

"There was! I promise! I honestly don't know what happened to it! Maybe when I was coming from the airport Soos took a different exit than I thought? Or maybe a truck got between us and the sign as we were passing it and we didn't realize, but—"

He was getting off topic. The mystery of the crystal store wasn't what was important here. Reel in the puzzled scientist for a moment and be an uncle. "But—I swear Mabel, I didn't make up a story just to get you out here. I truly wanted to go to a crystal shop with you, hand on my heart." He put his hand on his heart. "That's a full finger more sincere than normal."

Mabel let out a choked giggle. She finally looked up at Ford, eyes red, cheeks tear streaked, but fighting to smile through her tears. "Grunkle Ford, I—" She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his sweater. "I'm not trying to ruin summer again, I promise! All I'm talking to Bill about is preschool cartoons and arts & crafts! Sure, he's—he's been nice since I helped him out, but—that doesn't mean I've forgotten who he is or what he can do..."

"Mabel, you didn't ruin last summer." Ford knelt down and hugged her back. "Bill did. Never forget that. I'm just trying to prevent him from doing it again."

Mabel nodded, unconvinced. "He couldn't have ruined it by himself."

"You're right. He couldn't. Which is why I was so wrong to keep the rift secret from everyone in the house but Dipper. I was trying to keep you safe, but you never would have fallen for his lies if I'd armed you with all the information you needed."

He leaned back from Mabel and patted his briefcase. "That's why I'm doing things properly this time! I'm prepared to educate you on every trick Bill has ever borrowed from the books of con artists, cult leaders, and serial manipulators. If you're going to talk to him, you'll know the rules of every mind game he plays before he starts playing them." He unzipped his briefcase and pulled out some of the research materials he'd assembled to prepare for this conversation. "I'm afraid even that might not be enough to fully protect you against his devious tricks, but if you keep your guard up and regularly check in with the rest of the family, then—"

Mabel looked in Ford's briefcase and exploded in a peal of laughter. "Grunkle Ford, are you making me go to school in the summer?! Gross!"

Ford blinked. If this was Dipper, he'd have been delighted at the educational opportunity. This just went to show how much he still needed to learn about Mabel, too. "Come now, Mabel. There's no greater defense against the shadowy forces of deception than the light of knowledge!"

Mabel laughed again. "You nerd!"

Ford grinned. "But, I'll try to make it fun, too."

"Okay, I'll take your psychology class. Bill-proof me! Arm me with knowledge!" She raised her arms like she was flexing her biceps.

"Great!" Ford rummaged through his briefcase. "I'll start with the broad strategies I've seen or heard of him using to isolate his victims, then narrow in on specific tactics he uses to steer conversations his way. First we'll go over the B.I.T.E. model of authoritarian control, and—"

Mabel put a hand on his shoulder. "How about we start with lunch?"

Ford paused, then let out a huff. "Yes, of course. We should eat."

They got in the car and went looking for a restaurant.

####

They had lunch at a burger place, and Ford told Mabel everything he could think of about how Bill operated—all guided by copious research notes.

To his relief, Mabel never got bored. Instead, she immediately related his lesson back to things she'd already seen Bill do: how easily he'd gotten her, Dipper, and Soos to do his job for him inside Stan's mind, or how he'd tried to turn Mabel and Dipper against each other during Mabel's puppet show. When she admitted what Bill had said to make her worry about talking to Ford, he confessed how Bill had turned him against Fiddleford—and how he'd done it with just a couple comments. All he'd had to say was that Fiddleford might not be committed enough to the portal project, might not be bold enough to finish, and Ford's mind had done the rest.

Ford hadn't even told Dipper about that part—instead, he'd just let Dipper read it in his journal. Ford had yet to so much as talk to Fiddleford himself about it. It was shameful to admit out loud; but less so when he knew he was talking to someone else who'd very nearly been fooled the same way—and that sharing his story might save her from repeating it.

They wrapped up lunch, moved to a nearby shop called Druid Donuts for dessert, and continued their conversation on one of the picnic tables outside. Mabel got a donut wizard with a pretzel stick wand and purple cream filling, and Ford tried out a donut with jelly beans on top. The jelly beans were kinda stale. He plucked them off and ate them anyway.

Mabel sighed, "Grunkle Ford, I'm so sorry I let Bill make me doubt you."

"Bill has that effect on people. When I had this same talk with Dipper, he tried to shoot me with the memory gun in case Bill was possessing me."

"Dipper never mentioned that!" Mabel laughed; but it quickly petered out as she remembered who had ultimately gotten memory gunned over Bill.

She gazed thoughtfully down at her wizard. (She'd eaten off one of his arms, half his robe, and licked out the purple cream filling.) "What made Bill so awful?"

"I sorely wish I knew," Ford said. "I spent half my life trying to find out where he came from, along with how to defeat him. All I ever learned is that he's from a two-dimensional realm—and he destroyed his dimension, friends and family included, for power."

Mabel's eyes widened.

"But... why? I still don't know. He told me he found his home 'restrictive'—but I imagine any limitations would feel restrictive to someone who's seeking omnipotence, so I have no idea what that truly means." Ford looked down at his donut. He'd plucked off all the jelly beans and sorted them into two piles on a napkin, one of regular beans and a smaller one with a few deformed ones. He popped a couple of beans in his mouth. 

"It's weird," Mabel said. "It's like... I'm trying to hate him, but it's hard. It was easy last year! And I know who he is, and I know that all this"—she pointed at Ford's bag full of notes—"is going on in his head, but—when I talk to him, he just seems like... not a different person, but a—a normal person. I don't want to not give that person a chance just because he's Bill. You know? Does that make sense?" Mabel grimaced. "Or is that just how good he is at acting?"

Softly, Ford said, "I think it does make sense. Actually, even after everything he's done to me... since he's been locked up with us, I've—had a moment or two like that. I don't think he's doing it on purpose. I think it's a natural side effect of being in such close proximity to him."

Ford had been thinking a lot about his bizarre burst of compassion on the night Bill burned off his hair. He'd wondered if, maybe, putting a human face over Bill had made Ford see him as a new person. But that wasn't right. Like Mabel had said: Ford didn't see this human Bill as a different person, but rather...

Ford had obsessed over Bill for thirty years. He'd combed the multiverse for information about Bill's history, his state of existence, his potential weaknesses. But in all that time—in all that time, he hadn't once spoken with Bill.

He'd spent half a lifetime moving amongst people who saw Bill as a symbol, a legend, a cosmic force. He'd come to see Bill the same way. A threat, a target, an idea. He'd spent so many years picking a scant few hours of conversation with Bill to shreds that—he was now beginning to realize—he'd half convinced himself that Bill didn't actually have an identity beneath his lies.

It wasn't that seeing a human face made Ford forget that this person was Bill. It was that seeing a human face made Ford remember that Bill was a person. Ford had gotten so used to hating Bill the symbol; had he ever learned how to hate Bill the person? Or had he just let himself believe Bill wasn't a person at all?

Treating Bill like an idea rather than a person was useful enough when Bill was some distant foe. But now Bill was here. Ford couldn't let himself go soft just because Bill was capable of filling space in a window seat and tripping on the furniture and waking screaming from nightmares and regretting a stupid haircut.

Bill had been a person every other time Ford had tried to kill him, too. And that didn't change the fact that he needed to die.

And Mabel—who had so much less practice with hatred than Ford had—was struggling with the same thing.

"You want him to make sense," Ford said. "I understand that completely. Once we see somebody as a person, it's hard to see them as a monster, even if that's what they are. Our minds think monsters want to destroy the world, not play weird chess games. Seeing him as just a monster would be safer for everyone—but, as long as he's imprisoned and powerless, all he can do is be a person."

Mabel thought that over. "Yeah," she said. "You can hate somebody or you can get to know them, but you can't do both."

Ford could think of a few people he'd only hated more the better he got to know them, but he supposed Mabel was kinder than him. "More or less."

"How do you deal with it?"

"By avoiding him."

Mabel's gaze dropped back to her donut wizard. She ate his wand and other arm.

Ford took a deep breath. "Mabel... knowing everything you know now, do you still want to keep talking to him?"

Her neck sank down into her turtleneck. "Do I fail your class if I say yeah?"

Ford smiled sadly. Was she too kind for her own good, or—like Ford—too curious? "I thought you might say that," he said. "Follow-up question: are you prepared to be disappointed when he doesn't live up to your hopes? And I do mean 'when,' not 'if.' You're offering him a charity I don't think he's capable of reciprocating."

If she'd gotten angry, if she'd gotten defensive, he would have worried more. But she laughed and said, "Grunkle Ford, last summer I got my heart broken by like, sixteen boys. After that, I can handle finding out the evil demon triangle I'm trying to reform is still an evil demon. I'll be impressed if he ever gets an opportunity to kill one of us and doesn't take it."

Ford chuckled, relieved. "I think you deserve to hang out with people you can hold to higher standards than that."

"I do! But the other people I hang out with don't wanna watch the same shows as me. I don't think I can make you understand how important that is."

On the one hand, that struck Ford as a very thirteen-year-old priority. On the other hand... He winced. "Actually... for a while, he was the only person that would play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons with me."

"WHAT! What kind of character did he play!"

"None. He always wanted to be the dungeon master," Ford said. "He ran very strange campaigns. And had a weird fascination with princesses with eyeballs for heads. And, in retrospect, it was probably a red flag when he decided to portray the God of Long Odds as a one-eyed golden triangle."

Mabel at least had the good grace to bite her lip instead of laughing at Ford.

"Well. I don't think you should want to talk to him. But, if you do... then you have a rare opportunity. Perhaps the first in multiversal history. Bill's our captive, he seems to trust you, he's motivated to make you trust him... I think if anyone's ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Perhaps you'll get your question answered."

"Grunkle Ford..." Mabel grinned slyly. "Are you saying that you want me to talk to him? Like, as a spy?"

Ford grimaced. "If I said that, that would make me a terrible uncle. I should be doing everything in my power to steer you away from him. I know that would be safer for everyone and healthier for you." He paused. "But. I can't control you. And as long as you've decided to talk to him anyway—I want to know everything you learn."

Mabel laughed. "You got it!"

"Final advice: don't trust anything he says, assume everything he does has an ulterior motive, and never agree to do anything he asks without twenty-four hours away from him to consider it. And keep talking to us—to me, to Dipper, to Stanley. He might fool one of us, but he can't fool all of us."

"Yeah!" Mabel raised a hand. "Pines power!"

"Pines power." Ford high-sixed her, then finished up his donut. "Well, I think this was very educational for both of us." He stood. "You've still got your $50. Want to go back to the crystal shop?"

####

They grabbed a big green box of donuts for the family and headed back to Lunar Blessings. While Mabel was agonizing over several fun-colored crystals, Ford wandered back toward the statue of Bill. He had to do something about this. "Excuse me." He waved down the shopkeeper. "Do you happen to know where this sculpture came from? The name of the artist, or...?"

She came over to study it. "I think we get all of these from a studio in the Bahamas, but I don't remember the artist off the top of my head. Why?"

He tried to think of a lie that sounded more realistic than the truth—maybe if he said he thought he recognized the art style and wanted to know if an old friend had made it, she'd be willing to dig up the artist's name?

He decided to go with a story that might get this thing off the shelf faster. "Because that particular depiction of the Eye of Providence is associated with a dangerous cult."

Her brows went up. "You're sure? It's a common symbol."

"Giving it eyelashes and a bow tie isn't. Trust me: either the artist is a cultist, or they got the design from somebody who is."

"Cult's a... pretty loaded word." (Ford grudgingly respected her for her wariness. She probably dealt with somebody calling something-or-other in this shop "cultish" on a daily basis.) "How do you know they're that bad?"

"Because once I got in, it took me thirty years to get out."

The shopkeeper's demeanor changed immediately. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry. We get these in bulk with a lot of other sculptures, I thought it was just some obscure... Are these people dangerous, or—?"

"Not as much as they used to be, I don't think. Their founder's incarcerated. But... the kind of people who'd be eager to buy this probably aren't the people you want to sell to."

As she eyed the sculpture skeptically—probably deciding whether she found this stranger's story credible enough to warrant taking merch off her shelves—Ford asked, "Do you think you could find the artist? With the founder gone, I... I've been wondering how his other victims are faring." There wasn't much point in pushing further to remove the item. He'd given the shopkeeper enough to think about, and he doubted one more statue on one more shelf would really do any harm while Bill couldn't use its eye.

She hesitated, then nodded. "I'll check our records. If we don't have it, you can give me your contact info and I'll let you know when I find out."

"Thank you." What would Ford say if he did meet another of Bill's victims? He'd known a few, very distantly, thirty years ago; Bill had told him who he could go to to get art, much like the sculpture in this store. Back then, he'd felt like he was in a secret society—a real secret society with real secrets, not like the corny social club styling itself a "secret society" he'd joined in college—with the double secret that none of the other members knew that Ford was the society president's favorite. In retrospect, they'd probably thought they were Bill's favorites, too.

He supposed he'd find out if he ever met the artist.

####

Mabel found a little pink cat figurine, a string of small nazar eye beads she thought would be great for crafts, an extremely small crystal naturally colored like a watermelon slice, and a bracelet made out of tiny colorful rock chips arranged in a rainbow. The shopkeeper wasn't able to find the artist's name before they left; but Ford left his name, address, and the shack's number on a piece of receipt paper so she could contact him if she found out more.

As they were leaving, Ford said to Mabel, "You know... if you still like those glass pyramids, I think there's a couple in my study that escaped the purge. You could have one."

"Really? You're sure? You don't have to..."

"I'm sure. They're not magical or dangerous—and I think I'd like for one of them to get new, better associations. Just, keep it in a room where Bill can't get his hands on it," Ford said. "But if he does see it... make up a story about it that will drive him crazy."

Mabel considered that. And then a wicked smile twisted up her face.

####

"Okay, your turn," Mabel said. She was slouched down in her seat with her feet up on the car's dashboard. "Befriend, betray, or betroth: Carl Sagan, the Queen of England, and... a wizard."

Ford sucked in a breath. "Ooh, that's tough." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Describe the wizard."

"Greatest wizard of all time! And his beard is like, ten feet long."

Ford pursed his lips as he thought. "Marry the wizard," he said. "As much as I admire Carl's mind, he freely shares his knowledge with the public. Wizards are far more reclusive. Marriage may be my only way to learn his secrets."

"The queen isn't even on the table?"

"I've been a king before, Mabel. Too many social obligations for me," Ford said. "I suppose I'll have to befriend the queen. I can't afford to make any more powerful enemies. Anyway, it could give me an opportunity to ask about some of the legends surrounding Buckingham Palace."

"So you'd betray...?"

Ford frowned deeply. "This game is vicious."

Mabel laughed. "I won't tell him!"

"I appreciate it," Ford said. "All right, your turn. Befriend, betray, or betroth: a president, a movie star, and an astronaut."

Mabel paused. Mabel thought about the guy on the $10 bill—who, she was sure, was definitely a president, or else they wouldn't have put him on a bill. Mabel said, "Which president?"

He'd meant the concept of a president, but. "Uh..."

Mabel gasped and sat up straight. "Grunkle Ford, look!" She pointed out the driver's side window.

"Wh—?" Ford gaped as they drove past a tall pole topped with a gray sign. The sign read, "OCCULTED CRYSTALS". Beneath the words was a glass window shaped like a cut diamond.

"Is that—?"

"That's it!" Ford swerved into the exit lane. "You're not getting away this time, you sonofagun!"

"I've still got like two dollars! Let's do this!"

They celebrated and congratulated each other as they descended onto the frontage road and made a U-turn under the highway.

On the other side, there was no trace of the sign. All they found was a strip of five nondescript whitewashed storefronts, all out of business, with a narrow weed-filled parking lot in front.

Mabel and Ford exchanged a baffled look.

Ford pulled into the empty parking lot and stepped out of the car. "It was here, wasn't it?" he asked. "It can't have been farther back than this." He squinted to the west, shielding his eyes with his hand. No signs that way, and no trees or buildings tall enough to be hiding one.

"Maybe it's a time travel thing!" Mabel jumped out of the car and ran to the abandoned stores, peering through the windows one at a time to see if any looked like a former crystal shop.

Ford glanced warily at a concrete block along the edge of the parking lot that looked like it might once have supported a pole. "Hmm."

Eventually, when they couldn't find anything, they slunk back into the car, got on the frontage road, took the next U-turn, and got back on the highway.

The diamond-windowed Occulted Crystals sign taunted them from the horizon.

They stared dumbly at it.

Mabel pulled out her phone and snapped a picture.

"What are you?" Ford asked the sign. "Is it invisible on its other side?"

Mabel turned in her seat and peered through the back window as they passed it. "Still visible!"

"Then can it only be seen if you're traveling east on the highway?" Ford mused. "But you'd have to be westbound to take an exit that reaches that location. It's impossible to access."

"What if you're traveling west but you drive the car backwards!"

Ford mulled over that. "For starters, we'd probably get pulled over." Ford glanced down at the car's clock. "It's getting late, too. We can't procrastinate anymore if we want to be home in time for dinner."

The sign had disappeared behind them. Mabel turned back around and settled in her seat. "I think this calls for a follow-up investigation later, don't you?"

Ford grinned. "I had the exact same thought."

####

"... And that's how we realized it wasn't Louisa who had slashed Sarah's tires," Abuelita said, "it was Arthur! Can you believe it? Arthur!" She turned away from the stove to look at Bill, eyebrows raised, making sure he fully appreciated this twist.

Sitting backwards on one of the kitchen chairs, he shrugged. "I can't blame him. Every man has his limit. And Sarah's been pushing his for weeks." He took a swig from a bottle of spoiled grape juice.

"Stop drinking my cooking wine," Abuelita said. "Sure, but Arthur's so passive! I thought he'd have a nervous breakdown long before he ever took action! Anyway, things just haven't been the same since he got arrested."

Bill shook his head sympathetically. "I tell you. This town's bingo hall is really going to the dogs."

The front door swung open, and Mabel's voice drifted in: "Betroth the vampire, of course. And—is it possible to betray a zombie? Do they understand loyalty? When Soos got turned..."

Bill perked up, set the juice bottle on the kitchen table, and got to his feet, immediately drawn to a more rewarding distraction. "I'll get out of your hair," he told Abuelita, and switched to English. "Hey, Shooting Star and Sixer!" He leaned against the kitchen doorway. "How were the crystals?"

"Great! I got a watermelon rock and a cat and some beads and the coolest bracelet!" She raised her hand and twisted it back and forth, making the rock chips click together. "And donuts!" She shoved a big green open box in Bill's face. "You're allowed to take one. Only one."

He grabbed the yellowest one he saw and bit in. "Huh. Piña colada. Weird." He took another bite and leaned around the open box lid to look at Mabel. "So. Did you two have fun?"

"Yes! It was a blast!" Mabel gushed. "We got lunch in Portland, and we talked foreverrr, and we've got more in common than I ever imagined, and we're gonna make more trips to Portland soon! I think it really brought us closer together."

"Huh." Bill's gaze flicked up to Ford. "How about that." Ford's face betrayed nothing. Bill looked back at Mabel and grinned wider. "Glad he's less of a killjoy than I thought."

"Pffft! You know he knows how to have fun," Mabel said. "Mr. God of Long Odds."

Bill's eyebrows shot up.

Mabel squeezed past Bill into the kitchen. "Abuelita, if you want a donut, I'm putting them in the bottom left cabinet with the pots."

"Thank you, Mabel."

"I'm taking Ford to the record store to introduce him to late 80's music," Mabel went on. "And we saw a crystal shop that isn't there depending on which way you're driving! Whaaat! Crazy, right!" 

"Oh, you found Occulted Crystals?" Now Bill's grin was aimed at Ford. "I know you didn't get that bracelet there. Didn't figure out how to get in?" He winked. "Do you want to?"

Ford's expression darkened; but before he could say anything, Mabel darted back into the entryway. "No! No spoilers! You'll ruin the fun of figuring it out!"

Bill laughed. "Okay, fine! Just one safety tip: never go looking for it on an empty stomach."

Mabel gave him a distrustful look. "Will that help us get in?"

"It'll help you get back out."

She nodded slowly. "Good to know." She hugged Ford. "I'll be right back! I haven't been to the bathroom since lunch." She bounded upstairs.

Leaving Ford with Bill.

Bill simply smiled. "You talked about DD&MD? That takes me back."

"I know what you're up to, you snake," Ford said. "And it's not going to work. At least leave her out of it."

"Hey, you can't blame me for worrying about her," Bill said. "She's such a caring little thing. And you don't have a strong history of family loyalty."

Ford's hands curled into fists; but he forced himself to turn away from Bill without acknowledging him, and headed for his and Stan's guest room.

"But hey," Bill called after him. "I really am thrilled to see you two getting along so well."

Nothing in Bill's tone sounded sarcastic. Ford paused and glanced back at him suspiciously; but then he shook his head and kept going.

Bill's smile faded. He made a rude gesture at Ford's back; then returned to his post at the kitchen table to listen to Abuelita's gossip and make sure she didn't touch the poison.

####

(Thank y'all for not pulling out the pitchforks at the end of last chapter lol. If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate a comment or reblog! Thanks! 💕)

[thebowieconstricker]

Head Over Heels - Chapter 1

(The Creature x Reader)

A Lisa Frankenstein (2024) fanfic

masterlist link

YOU THOUGHT I WASN’T GONNA POST DIDN’T YA??? Nah I’ve just been doing other things. We’re gonna have ONE more chapter after this one and then… we meeting our boy. Enjoy!

~~~

1989, Brookview, Indiana

As you reapplied your mascara for the fourteen billionth time, you let out a sigh. It was the first semester of your freshman year and Taffy was determined to drag you along with her to your first rager. You had fought her for years when it came to you attending parties. They were your own personalized hell, too much smoke and alcohol and noise, and for the past three years of high school, you had explained this to Taffy. Somehow, for some reason, she had respected your decision and you had successfully avoided them.

On the condition that you would go to one when you were a senior.

Unfortunately for you, you now had to actually fulfill that promise.

Taffy couldn’t be happier about it, though.

You had been struggling with your hair, face, outfit, everything since you’d gotten home from school. It was a Friday, so you couldn’t use the school night excuse on your father.

Even if you tried to, you doubted he would keep you home. These days he seemed exhausted with you, too wrapped up in his own business to care to listen to your silly teenage problems. You thought that he’d be more dad-like these days, his kid going into their senior year, but no. Anytime you complained, he retorted that you should just be more like Taffy. She didn’t have problems! Maybe join the cheer team! He’s sure she’d teach you the ropes!

He didn’t care to know you would rather drop dead then join the cheer team.

Anyways, back to you. Getting ready, yes. You grabbed a jean-jacket littered with patches you had stitched on yourself. You had a job with a local tailor in town and you’d always loved to sew. You considered yourself an artsy person, fascinated with the art of creation. This patched jacket was an especially loved project of yours, a sort of comfort jacket. So, it was coming with you.

After putting it on and glancing at yourself one last time in the mirror, you heard a honk outside your door. Taffy.

You shut off your bathroom radio, currently blaring “Keep On Loving You” by REO Speedwagon, a favorite of yours. You hummed the rest of the song as you zipped around your bathroom, grabbing a shoe here and chapstick there, shoving things in your bag and absentmindedly combing through your hair with your fingers. One final check later and you were speeding through your house, running out of your bathroom, through your room, down the stairs, past the living room, and straight towards the door, grabbing the handle and yanking it open.

You gasped and squinted as you walked out of your house, taken aback. Taffy’s car lights were on and pointed directly at you, completely blinding. As your eyes adjusted, your stomach began to turn as you recognized the cherry red of her car.

There was no going back now.

You saw Taffy in the drivers seat, excitedly smiling and waving at you.

This was gonna be a long night.

~~~

“So… are you hot for anyone?”

Oh my god, Taffy would not shut up.

Yeah, you two had been friends for… forever at this point, but didn’t she know you well enough by now to understand how you worked? You were already going out on a limb here, why did she delight in torturing you? You didn’t talk a lot, you rarely had crushes! Why did she act like you were like everyone one else?

“Taffy, that’s gross.” You replied, groaning.

“It’s not gross! It’s human, (Y/N). There has to be someone at school you think is cute.” She looked at you grinning.

A thought popped into your head. You knew it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Your eyes shifted to look out the window. “I mean…”

Taffy gasped. “That wasn’t a no! Details, details!”

You giggled a bit at her enthusiasm. Perky as she was, she was fun.

“There’s… someone who doesn’t go to our school, I guess.”

Taffy nodded aggressively, bouncing in her seat.

Now, you knew very well that you weren’t interested in anyone at school, but you could… stretch the truth a bit. For her sake. Make her think there was still a chance for you.

“We don’t talk much, but… when I see him, he’s sweet.”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH-“ Taffy let out a high-pitched squeal, causing your eyes to close tightly.

“Can you not?!?” You tried your best to maintain an annoyed expression, but her genuine happiness for you made your smile impossible to hide.

“What school does he go to??” Taffy was glancing back and forth at you and the road.

“He’s homeschooled.”

“Ooh, so he’s like, freakishly smart?”

“Yeah, freakishly.”

“Does he have more of a football bod or a basketball bod?”

“He, um- doesn’t play sports.”

Taffy gave you a look.

“(N/N), I thought I went over this with you. How are you gonna climb the social ladder this year if you only go after geeks?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself defensively.

“He just caught my attention, okay? It’s not like we’re anything serious.”

Taffy sighed and turned up the radio, beginning to hum along to whatever was playing.

You couldn’t hear it, though. All this talk about your bachelor friend had you daydreaming.

What would it be like if he went to Brookview High? Maybe he would actually be your friend. He’d help you with your math homework, eat lunch with you, walk you to class, give you kisses in the hallway…

EEEEKKKK

The car lurched to a halt. You jolted from your dreams, arm hitting the car door.

Damn, you forgot how bad of a driver Taffy was.

“We’re here! Alright, (Y/N), are you ready for your first official senior rager??”

Taffy’s smile was impossibly wide, her eyes shining in the darkness of her car. You could faintly hear the music and noises of the party, whoever’s house you were at ahead of you.

Sitting there in the dark.

Waiting.

You took a breath.

“Okay.”

~~~

Nope nope nope, this was the worst choice you could have possibly made.

You could have thrown yourself into oncoming traffic and you would have been better off than being at this stupid, awkward party.

Standing outside with an unopened bottle of water, you watched as Taffy flawlessly buzzed about. She seemed to somehow know every single person here, to the point where each of them was just so glad she made it! It’s not a party without her! Damn, girl, I’m loving the outfit!

You thought your jacket would have gotten you some complements, at least from the right people, but apparently not.

Even the goth kids were steering clear of you.

Was there a meeting before you got here to make sure no one would talk to you??

You swallowed harshly and began to walk over to one of the random coolers strewn about the lawn. Thankfully, Taffy hadn’t forced you inside the actual house. You were sure the music was even louder, and the bright lights pouring from the glass doors and walls that shone on the pool were much brighter and even more headache inducing inside. Finally getting to a cooler, you realized that you had already been holding an unopened waterbottle.

Mentally rolling your eyes at your own idiotic behavior, you decided to just commit. Yes, it was stupid, and yes, you should just go hide in Taffy’s car for the rest of the night, but you might as well just suck it up at this point.

Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, it would get Taffy off your back for good.

You bent down and opened the cooler, and your hand dove straight into the icy cold water. It was pure instinct, a desire to feel something that wasn’t hot and sweaty and awkward, and it honestly gave you a brief feeling of relief.

You took your original water bottle, now lukewarm, and placed it in the ice water, grabbing a new, much cooler bottle of water.

Suddenly, a deep voice came from behind and above you.

“If you’re looking to fade out, the ethanol’s inside.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “What?”, you responded.

“The booze…?” The voice said as you stood up, not yet turning around. “It’s in the house.”

You started to turn, now actually understanding whatever this guy was talking about.

“O-oh, yeah, I think my friend brought most of it-“

Wait-

Your eyes focused in the dark on the figure who was speaking to you. Pretty brown hair and eyes, a slight tan, and a face that you would recognize in an instant.

Why was Micheal Trent talking to you?

[taexbankai]

I only want you

Hello everyone! This is my first time writing a story in about 6 years so i’m extremely rusty so PLEASE bear with me😭. I wanted to make a story that had smut but an actual plot with it so there will definitely be more chapters coming out! Also if there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes i apologize! I’ve been writing this story while at work so i read over it but i miss stuff sometimes

————————

The first time i met satoru was about 13 years ago. I was only 5 years old, my big brother suguru was 8. Suguru came home one day after school and asked our mom if he could bring a friend over after school tomorrow. My mom said yes and that was what started it all

the next day after school suguru came home and he brought his friend.

“hello, nice to meet you! I’m satoru gojo” the white haired boy said as he introduced himself to my mom.

“hello gojo nice to meet you! are you hungry? would you like anything to eat?” My mom said as she smiled at him

“yes please” gojo said as he returned her smile. I on the other hand couldn’t stop myself from staring at him. His pretty white hair and his beautiful blue eyes were so new to me, i couldn’t help but want to get closer to him.

“this is my little sister y/n” I heard suguru say which snapped me out of my thoughts. Gojo came over to me with a smile on his face

“hello y/n, i’m suguru’s best friend nice to meet you” he said as he looked right into me eyes

“h-hi” I said as i looked down at my feet, too shy to look him back in the eyes. I heard him and suguru laugh before suguru asked him if he wanted to go into his room and play the game. As they walked upstairs i immediately went into the kitchen to talk to my mom.

“mom, suguru’s best friend is super cute!” i said thinking back to how he smiled at me when he introduced himself to me, a smile slowly finding it’s way onto my face just thinking about him.

“aww, y/n’s first crush is her big brother’s best friend” my mom teased as she laughed at me.

——— time skip a few years sorry y’all lol

I am now 14 soon turning 15 and a sophmore in highschool. My brother and his best friend are now seniors in high school. I’ve become closer to satoru but my once innocent little crush has turned into being full on in love with him. Once i turned 14 i realized my feeling for satoru were more than just a little crush.

“i’m serious shoko!” i said to my best friend on facetime while combing my hair before bed

“ but y/n why gojo out of all people? he’s not even cute” shoko said to me with a very unimpressed look on her face as i ranted to her about satoru for the 15th time today

“ i’ve decided to just suck it up and tell him how i feel at my birthday party. I invited him and he said he’ll definitely be there” i told her as i turned off my room light and turned my led lights on as i laid down in my bed

“okay and what about your brother? he’s not gonna be happy about you wanting to date his best friend” shoko said

“i know… that’s why i just won’t tell him” i said as i looked over to my clock

“ anyways it’s almost 12 so i’m going to go to bed, text me when you get up bestie” i told shoko as i turned on my side, grabbing my phone charger

“okay, goodnight bestie love you”

“goodnight, love you too”

“y/n are you up?”

i woke up to someone knocking on my door

“hmm?” i said while turning on my other side curling into a ball, slowly falling back to sleep

“i’m coming in” i heard my brother’s voice say as my room door opened

“y/n what flavor cake did you want for the party? i need you to tell me now because i want to put in a order so it’s ready by saturday” suguru said as he sat down on my bed and pulled his phone out

“you can pick” i said, pulling my blanket over my head, desperately trying to go back to sleep

“okay, i don’t want to hear any complaints then” he said as he sighed and laid down next to me while on his phone

“get off! you’re on top of my blankets” i said to suguru, annoyed that he laid down on top of the blanket instead of underneath

“nah” he said and turned on his side. I angrily got up from underneath my blanket and tried to pull the blanket from underneath suguru

“you’re so heavy!” i said as he just sat there and laughed. After 5 minutes of pulling i just gave up and laid back down trying to go back to sleep

“who all did you invite to the party?” suguru suddenly asked me

“not that many people. Shoko, satoru, and a few other friends from school” i said as i looked at him. He nodded and started texting someone on his phone

“why?” i asked, curious now

“no reason, just wanted to know if i could invite some people” he said

“eww, you wanna invite your girlfriend” i said teasing him

“shut up. and she’s not my girlfriend” he said as he slightly pushed me

“yuki is always over and you’re always hanging out with her, you might as well just date her” i said

“enough about me, when are you going to get a boyfriend” he said to me slightly laughing

“ i already like someone right now” i said accidentally. my eyes widened once i realized what i said

“oh really? who is it?” suguru asked as he locked his phone and put it down, his attention now fully on me

“it doesn’t matter who it is” i said as i turned and looked at everything but him

“i wanna know who, just in case i gotta beat him up” suguru jokingly said

“can you not be an annoying big brother for like 5 minutes please?” i said as i rolled my eyes and started laughing

“no really though, i want to know” suguru said. just when i ran out of excuses to give him his phone started ringing

“you can just come inside the doors unlocked. I’m in y/n’s room” suguru said. the person on the other side of the phone said something before suguru hung up

“who was that?” i asked

“satoru” he said

“don’t think i’m letting you off the hook. I wanna know the boy my little sister has a crush on” suguru said in a mocking voice

“y/n has a crush on someone?! who is it?” satoru said as he suddenly bursted into my room

“both of you get out of my room!” i said, now super shy since satoru came into my room

“you can tell me, i won’t tell anybody” satoru said as he sat down on my bed. He looked at me over the top of his black glasses

“next time toru” i said as i grabbed my phone trying to distract myself

“now can you both leave so i can get in the shower?” i added, trying to change the topic as i stood up and began walking to my bathroom

“wait, what flavor did you want your cake? i’m helping suguru get stuff ready for the party” satoru asked me as he stood up and stopped me by grabbing my shoulders.

“white” i said quickly without giving satoru a chance to respond before turning around and going into my bathroom

“now both go you get out” i said as i closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower water

———————

first chapter is done! i really hope you all end up enjoying the story as i continue writing it 😭 please lmk if it’s terrible or if you’re actually liking it so far!

[abbysbunny]

NEW STUDENT PT.2

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

part one

plot: the big school field trip is finally here and you hazel share a room

warnings: none, not proofread but I don't think I made any errors:)

word count: 0.9k

notes:thank you fruity ppl for the attention on pt.1🌚this is again boring so:3 anyways this if the last chapter y'all but I'm write smth else soon!! anyways I hope you enjoy this lame follow up🔥🙏🏼

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

for every senior class there was a special school trip, this year your school saved up money for it instead of taking you guys to a cheap motel an hour away like they've done the other years.

this year you guys are going to Venice. I mean sure you're staying at a hotel with no heater or locking doors but it's better than what they did last year. the flight was an excruciating 12 hours of students screaming, singing and trying to keep each other entertained, but when you got there it was sorta worth it...

when you got to your hotel everyone rushed out of the bus making your bag fall into a puddle of water, already off to a great start. inside it was very fancy looking...but also old looking, the walls were cracking and it smelled like a creepy old neighbor. the guides explained how the rooms would work, they were dividing it in boys and girls with each room having a king sized bed.

"okay so everyone is going in twos so partner up!" the teacher explained, everyone quickly chose their partner, you looked around and saw hazel alone, the only time you guys talked was her first day of school, sure you guys did exchange numbers but no one actually texted first. walking up to hazel you were building up the confidence to ask her to partner up, you tapped her shoulder and she turned around looking you in the eyes before dropping her gaze down to the ground.

"hey do you wanna stay in a room with me?" she looked up at you and nodded with a smile, you both went to your room and settled down, there was a knock at the door before the teacher peeked in telling you guys everyone was going out to dinner in an hour, after accepting the invite the door closed leaving you guys alone once again, "so are you going hazel?" you questioned hoping you had an excuse to sit by her and talk more.

"i don't know, I mean are you going?" she asked her voice cracking mid sentence, "yeah I am, if you don't wanna go that's fine I'll just tell the teacher tha-" you were quickly cut off by hazel, "if you're going I'm going so uhm..." you swear you could see her blush just a bit. after a good twenty minutes of getting ready, it was time to go, you and hazel walked out and met everyone else down stairs.

the restaurant was again fancy but old, is everything here fancy and old? you all sat down at your assigned seats, you obviously next to hazel, the waiter came by and you ordered something simple nothing too expensive. as people started talking and things got a little louder you thought it would be a great time to actually have a full conversation with hazel.

you turned to hazel and spoke,"how are you hazel? you know you never texted me" she turned to face you and got eyes slightly widened at what she would call your boldness, "oh sorry I forgot I guess...but uhm I'm good, how are you" hazel let out a breath she didn't even know she held in, you were shoked at her full not very awkward phrase.

"well I'm pretty good, life is pretty boring but I think this trip is gonna be fun" you smiled at an attempt to add some positivity to the conversation, so it's not just awkward lesbians trying to talk. "oh yeah they have some cool art museums here you know? I think we're going to some while we're here" you were not surprised by hazel's interest in art, you chuckled at hazel's enthusiasm about museums.

"well maybe you could tell me more about your interest mh? you thought letting her rant about things she likes would keep the conversation going and well it did! for the rest of the dinner she talked about her skills and other cool things about herself, you learned she can build a very "small" bomb and knew taekwondo, who knew she was so interesting?. when you got back to the hotel somehow it was already 10pm, you both got ready for bed and got into your guys shared bed.

you kept thinking about wanting to do something, like maybe kiss her? or maybe just share your feelings with her? you didn't know what exactly but you just had to do something, "hey haze?" you thought maybe using a silly nickname would maybe show her you've loosened up, she looked away from her phone and looked straight into your eyes, suddenly you wanted to back out but you couldn't, I mean what were you gonna tell her If not that you like her.

you put your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, "I think I like you" you quietly blurred out, her eyes widened before relaxing them, "oh well...I think I like you too" she couldn't contain the smile on her face and she felt her face get hot, you smiled back at her and moved closer to her, "can I kiss you" you said so quietly it was almost not even a whisper.

she moved closer to you and gently put her hands on the sides of your face, "yes, please" she whispered back, you leaned in and finally connected her lips to yours, her lips were soft and warm against yours, after a few more seconds of a sweet kiss she pulled away, you couldn't help but giggle a bit and smile, "does this mean we're like girlfriends now?" she asked you, you thought about it for a moment before responding, "yeah it does".

[spectralscathath]

Tour Guide to the Unexplained- A gravity Falls Fanfiction

Chapter 6- Night of the Living Gideon

Stan and Ford didn’t expect much when getting shipped up to Gravity Falls to stay with estranged family. Not a carnival, not Lil Gideon, and definitely not the Mystery Shack and their lying uncle who runs it. But with Ford’s smarts and Stan’s punching, there’s no mystery they can’t solve.

Ao3 Link

Stan pressed his face to the glass as they pulled into the parking lot for the giant carnival that surrounded the Tent of Telepathy, bright lights and happy screams filling the air. He could see so many game stalls, park rides, food vans, and tons more! Ford's idea of deliberately skipping breakfast to maximise their carnival food eating was a great idea.

Best of all? Carla's tickets meant they got free entry to everything! She was so cool, so amazing, Stan would beat up anyone for her.

They both unclipped their belts and reached for the door handles. Dipper hit the lock button before they could get out of the car, turning around in his seat to point at them. "Now I want you two to stay in sight at all times, or tell me where you're going if you run off. Anything else is fine, just don't disappear on me." 

"Why?" Stan crossed his arms.

"Yeah, this seems abnormally restrictive compared to the amount of freedom you usually allow us." Ford mirrored Stan's crossed arms.

"Because Gideon Gleeful is literally evil, this is not an exaggeration, and if you don't agree we're going back to the Shack right now."

They glanced at each other. Stan shrugged. "I wanna hang out with Carla. And Bud's a jerk so…"

"I mean, that commercial on the television is a bit ominous, what with 'Gideon's expecting you'." Ford noted.

"Okay. You got it, oldtimer."

"We won't just run off," Ford elaborated. "Can we get out now? We have free passes to every ride. We have to do all of them!"

"Most of them!" Stan corrected as he tugged at the door handle. Dipper hit the lock switch, the truck door swinging wide as the twins jumped out each side, ready to sprint off with only Dipper's threat of getting dragged back to the shack keeping them in place. 

"I need child leashes," he grumbled as he got out of the car, placing his hands on the small of his back and stretching. "Lead on, boys."

They took off, their ultimate passes wrapped around their wrists as Dipper trudged behind them in full Mr Mystery gear. Stan held it up to the security guy who looked like he'd been stuffed into a white wig and blue suit. They waited for Dipper inside, Stan impatiently bouncing his weight from side to side while Ford looked around with big eyes.

"I'll take the senior's discount," Dipper pulled out his wallet. 

"There isn't one," the security guy crossed his arms, looking like he hated his life. Stan would too, if that was his uniform. "Sorry, man."

"Gideon," Dipper growled venomously. "Fine, one normal ticket. You look like you're having a worse day than me anyway."

"Yep." The guard confirmed, his wig lopsided. "But work's work."

"Local bar's called the Skull Fracture," Dipper counted out cash. "I recommend a Brain Stomper if you're looking to forget."

"Will do." The security guy handed him a wrist band. "Enjoy the park."

Dipper tipped his hat and strode through, and Stan stared, head cocked. He couldn't believe what he just heard.

"Grunkle Dipper, you go to a biker bar?"

"It's that or Gnasty's," Dipper shrugged and didn't elaborate. "What's the game plan?"

"Rides first, then snacks, then game stalls and assorted, then another round of rides, then more food," Ford pulled out his notepad. "I have it written down, this is the optimal plan to have the most fun while not barfing."

"First one to barf has to do the other's chores for a week," Stan grinned and punched Ford's shoulder. "Sixer here thinks he can avoid it with nerd logic."

"I totally can, knucklehead!" Ford punched him back. "The math works!"

"If you're gonna barf do it in a bin. Need me to hold anything while you're on the rides?"

"Jacket and glasses please."

"Also my vest!" Stan didn't want his smokebombs to go flying everywhere. 

"Dipper Pines: coat rack," Dipper rolled his eyes with a smile as they handed over their jackets. "The things you do for family."

Stan had to agree. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Ford. Except go on the drop tower. Too high for him. Maybe the rollercoaster too, he wasn't sure about that either. Or the ferris wheel. "Let's do the bumper cars first!"

#

Stan patted Ford's back as Ford leaned over a bin. Round Ups always got Ford in the end. "You good, Fordsie?"

"You haven't even eaten yet…" Dipper held out a bottle of water for when Ford was done turning his guts inside out. 

"That kinda ride is his weakness." Stan informed. 

"Can it, Stanley. At least I can do the drop tower," Ford managed, face pale. "Water, please."

Dipper handed it over. "Okay, enough rides for now. Let's walk around the games alley and let your stomach settle."

"What about corndogs?" Stan asked, barely hearing Ford make a low, sickened groan as he washed his mouth out. 

"I'll get you one. Ford, you can have one when you're not dead-looking. Can you walk?"

"I can walk!" That got Ford's pride involved, Stan could picture the indigent look on his face even as Stan got ready to go go go. He was gonna try win a prize for once! Or at least figure out how it was rigged so he could pull the trick on his brother later.

"Mr Pines! Hi!" Carla's voice cut in and Stan nearly tripped over his own feet, cheeks going red as he whirled to see her. 

"Carla." Dipper nodded at her. "Nice face paint."

"Thank you," Carla smiled, and Dipper was right, there was something sparkly and pink on her cheek. "Hi Stan, hi Ford."

"Hi Carla." Ford put his jacket back on, subtly checking the inner pockets as he did. Stan recognised the motion because he'd done the same. 

"Hey, Carla." Stan waved at her and hoped that his hands weren't sweaty, his face wasn't red. Having these ba-dumps was making it really awkward to do anything when she was around, or when Jimmy dropped by randomly. He kept worrying he'd do something really lame and uncool. "What's on your face?"

"Oh, just a butterfly." Carla smiled and hovered her hand over the pink blur on her cheek. "I feel like a bit of a coward, not going for the full butterfly mask."

"You're no coward, I'll punch anyone who says so!" Stan promised her. 

"Aw, thank you, that's really sweet," Carla beamed. "Are you guys having fun so far?"

"Yeah!"

"I barfed just now, I threw up," Ford mumbled. 

"Yeah." Grunkle Dipper patted Ford's back, staring at Stan with that puzzled look before he seemed to realise something. He sighed. "We're probably gonna wait here for a few minutes until he's ready to run around again. If you two want to go on ahead, we'll catch up."

Stan saw a chance. An opportunity. "Carla, do you want to go check out some of the stalls?"

"Totally! We were going to get on one of the rides, right?" Carla held out her hand to show the same wristband the twins had. "I have a free pass too! Bud's such a romantic."

Stan tried very hard not to scowl at that. "Great. See you guys soon."

#

"Is it just me or is Stanley acting weirder than usual?" Ford adjusted his glasses as he watched his brother run off with Carla, sitting on the grass. It did feel a little better than standing up. Just had to ride out the aftershocks. 

"Yep, looks like a crush to me as well," Dipper nodded. "Poor sucker."

"What?!" Ford stared at him as the information tried and failed to compute. "But that doesn't make sense!"

"Oh, it's very familiar, I recognise that look." Dipper rolled his eyes. "Never ended well for me when I got it."

"Huh?"

He patted Ford's head. "You just have to ride the crush out until it goes away and your twin goes back to normal, just don't be a jerk about it. Also never ends well."

"Stan has a crush?" Ford fidgeted with his hands, unsure whether to fold them together or hide them in his jacket sleeves. "That's weird."

"Welcome to being thirteen." Dipper shrugged and stood up, dusting himself off. "Ginger's good for nausea or something, wanna see if there's some gingerbread around?"

"I don't need you to coddle me, I'm not a baby." Ford reminded him. 

"I'm pushing seventy, yes you are."

"You're not." Ford sighed and followed him anyway, grateful to be taking a break from the rides. They were great, don't get him wrong! He just also needed to recover a little bit. "You didn't even get a senior's discount."

"And I will destroy Gideon for it, one of these days." Dipper deadpanned. Well. Ford hoped it was a deadpan. Sarcasm was the best option here. "Or punch him in the face, I'm opportunistic."

"Why does Gideon hate you so much?" Ford had to ask. 

"Oh, it's worse than that," Dipper laughed and ruffled Ford's hair. "Definitely worse. Don't worry about it, I'll hold off on ruining his carnival until you kids are done with it."

'Okay, thanks- wait, WHAT?" Is that why he agreed to drive them?!

#

"Wow, you look great!" Carla cheered. Stan cracked open an eye, seeing an orange blur swimming in a mirror.

He snatched the mirror close, the dark stripes coming into view, and felt like the coolest kid in Gravity Falls. Tigers were always cool. "This looks so rad!"

"Yeah, I should have gotten the butterfly mask," Carla confirmed to herself. "But you pull it off! Let's go show your Grunkle."

"Ford's gonna be jealous." Stan beamed and handed the mirror back to the face painter. "Thanks."

"No problem, sweetie," she smiled at him. "You have fun now!"

"We will!" He waved as he and Carla walked off. "Yeah, this was a great idea."

"I think so, gosh, forgot Ford, I'm jealous. I'd just hate to ruin the work she already did," Carla laughed and offered some of her cotton candy. "Want some?"

"Thanks," Stan smiled and took a small piece. "And thanks for the tickets too. How'd you convince Bud to give them to you for us? Thought his dad hated Dipper."

"I… may have not mentioned who?" Carla smiled awkwardly and rubbed her arm. "I feel bad but when I found out it was your birthday- I mean, it was such short notice and I wanted to give you something that I knew would be fun-"

"It's super fun," Stan reassured her. "You're like, the nicest person I know."

"Aw, thank you," Carla tucked her hair back behind her ear. "It's nice to be nice, you know?"

No. He had no clue. 'Nice' wasn't really a thing in Jersey, not for him and Ford. So he lied instead. "Yeah, I get it. Good for good."

"Right? You get me, Stan," she reached down and messed up his hair, careful not to smoosh any of it against the tiger facepaint. 

"Sure do." Little lies were okay. 

"Carla! There you are, my schnookums!" Bud's voice rang out and Stan bit back a groan. He was pretending to tolerate this guy, the most annoying person in town. 

"Bud!" Carla hugged him tight and kissed him. 

"I got some time off from playing piano, so how about we go on some rides?"

"Oh- I would, but- Stan?" Carla looked at him worriedly.

"Why, Stanley," Bud's cheery voice got a whole lot faker. Stan picked it out quick. "Nice to see you! That's quite the daring face paint you have."

"Isn't it great?" Carla piped up. "I think it's so cool. Stan, do you want me to go back to your Grunkle with you?"

"Mr Pines is here?"

Stan had a gut instinct that letting either of the Gleefuls know his Grunkle's location was a bad idea. Also, spending time with Bud was a bad idea. Stan wanted to shove a smoke bomb up his nose. 

"I got it, it's fine. Have fun, Carla." He turned and walked away before either could stop him, taking the first turn between two stalls immediately to get out of sight. He clenched his fists tight, only punching the side of one of the stalls a little. His face felt hot with anger and stupid jealousy, he was stupid-

A bag of chips was shoved in his face. "That looked rough, tiger. Bud's a pest, right?"

He blinked, looking up at Jimmy as the older teen leaned against a stall, offering the greasy potato chips. 

Stan felt himself blush under the tiger paint. "You saw that?"

"Yep. How is it McCorkle calls me a snake but then gets all cosy with Creepshow Jr? Double standards." Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Take a chip. On me."

"Thanks." Stan took a handful and shoved them in his mouth in one go. Salty. Made him hungry. "You're really cool."

"I know." Jimmy flexed, rolling his neck to show his snake tattoo, curled across the front of his throat. "I like your face paint."

Stan was glad the paint hid how much redder his face must have gone, because that would be the worst outcome. Carla made him flustered and that was bad enough, Jimmy was a whole different level of 'not fine'. "Thanks. Tigers are cool."

"I know." Jimmy patted his shoulder. "C'mon, walk with me."

"Okay!" Stan lit up and followed Jimmy back through the game stalls, lined with prizes and con artists. "Did you really go to jail before?"

"Yep. That's where I got this tattoo," Jimmy rolled up one sleeve, showing Stan not the snake tattoo, but an entirely different skull tattoo on his inner wrist.

"Whoa." Stan's eyes were round with awe. "Did it hurt? The needle?"

"Tattoos don't hurt, don't believe wimps who say otherwise," Jimmy laughed and finished off his chip bag, plastic crinkling. "I heard you're kind of a troublemaker too. Ghosts at a disco, huh?"

"My brother was the one who actually fixed that." Stan was just the one who caused it, he was sure.

"Right, the twin. You're the first identical twins I've met. Only other twins I know are the graveyard guy's, a guy and a girl. They're creepy. You're not."

"Yeah?" Stan didn't want to admit that hearing that small smidgeon of praise made his chest all bubbly inside. 

"Yeah. I like your spunk. Not many people look me in the eye in this town."

"People are dumb," Stan shrugged. "Is it because you're a delinquent or whatever? I've had the most detentions ever in my school, that's not scary."

"No way. Guess we're both record holders." Jimmy offered a fist, grinning wide. "Pound it."

Stan beamed and fist-bumped him back. "What's the worst thing you ever got caught for? I once released a possum into the principal's office. His name was Shanklin."

"I like that!" Jimmy threw back his head and laughed. Stan felt like he'd just won a better prize than any of the toys lining the carnival stalls. Jimmy reached down and ruffled his hair, his fingers cold and his grin devious. "You know- there's a petting zoo here, Tiger. Wanna cause a ruckus?"

Stan's answering grin was equally wicked.

#

Ford carried a stuffed axolotl, a little too proud of himself. His stomach rumbled, nausea long in the past, but they had to find Stanley before they could eat. "I told you it was about the angle."

"Okay, okay, consider my maths corrected," Grunkle Dipper laughed. "You want me to carry that when you and Stan do your rides, part 2?"

"Thank you." Ford offered the axolotl up for Grunkle Dipper to hold. He'd felt a bit embarrassed about picking a toy, like a child would, but the axolotl was a weird creature, with six gills on its head. Another 'sixer', like Stanley called him. He liked it. Even if the pink colour was a bit… well, he already carried around a diary that was definitely girly, at least the axolotl could be hidden in his room. 

He hadn't brought the diary with him today, though. The risk of losing it on a ride was scary, but leaving it in his jacket when he wasn't wearing it was scarier. He'd shoved it safely into his pillowcase. 

"Can you see Stanley anywhere?" Ford was worried, so far every time they weren't around each other, trouble happened. Whether it was a ghost, or a murder car monster- Stan was a magnet for trouble. 

"Nope, just some brats throwing chickens out of the petting zoo- wait, yep, one of 'em's ours." Dipper sighed and sped up, walking at pace towards where a small crowd was beginning to gather.

"A petting zoo? Stan's banned from the one in Jersey." Ford jogged to keep up with his longer strides, the smell of 'animal' hitting him. Uh-oh.

"History repeats." Dipper grumbled as he began making room for Ford, shoving people out of the way. "Old man comin' through, move it, buster. Outta the way."

"Freedom!" Stan tossed a chicken. What was wrong with his face? "Be free!"

"Anarchy!" A teenager joined him, kicking open one of the inner gates that separated the zoo into sections and releasing the goats into the wider zoo area. Ford squinted as the bandanna and leather and blond hair came into focus through his glasses. Ugh. Jimmy. 

He rolled his eyes. "This jerk again? We gotta stop this, Grunkle Dipper!"

"Wait, I gotta take a picture." Dipper pulled out his flip phone, juggling the axolotl plush. "I'd be murdered in my sleep if I didn't get this for a future scrapbook."

"What?" Did he scrapbook now too? Looked like it was all down to Ford. 

He ran over to the fence and climbed onto it, hissing at his brother. "Stanley!"

"Hi Ford!" Stanley turned and grinned at him, one of the baby goats chewing the edge of his vest. His face was weird because of the face paint. Weren't they a bit old for that?

"Stanley, get out of there! What are you doing?!" Ford leaned over and made a grab at him, Stan leaning back enough he missed. 

"Jimmy and I thought it'd be fun."

"Snakes." Ford shot him a glare. This was his fault. "Stan, c'mon, you're gonna get us kicked out!"

"Don't be such a nerd," Stan stuck out his tongue as there was the sound of a metal door slamming open. 

 "We've been made, kid!" Jimmy ran by, scooping Stan over his shoulder and clearing the fence in one jump, quickly disappearing into the crowd as a man with 'petting zoo' on his shirt came rushing out into the main area, face red with anger.

Ford had enough sense- and experience from Stanley chaos- to jump off the fence and disappear before it could be pinned on him,darting through the crowd until he found Grunkle Dipper to hide behind. 

"Anyone see who did this?!" The owner yelled out as he stormed up to the fence. The crowd murmured, sounding confused. That was strange, Jimmy Snakes was pretty distinctive.

"That way!" Dipper pointed, the sound quickly taken up by the crowd before Dipper shuffled Ford in the exact opposite direction.

"Did you just turn them in?" Ford might not have liked Stanley throwing chickens around and releasing goats, but he didn't want his brother in trouble.

"No way." Dipper grinned wryly. "The people in the town are literally the dumbest people ever though, they're like lemmings. Just had to give them something to follow." 

"That's rude." And inaccurate. Not everyone was dumb. 

"Yep." Dipper turned his gaze to a gap between two stalls. "You can come out now."

Stan and Jimmy emerged with identical smiles, doing some weird shared handshake. Ford felt a spike of betrayal. But hand things were his and Stanley's!

"That was awesome!" Stan threw his hands in the air. "Did you guys see that?!"

"Sure did." Dipper patted his pocket, where his flip phone was. Ford made an angry sound, unable to find words that truly encapsulated his emotions. 

"Yeah." Jimmy smirked and put on his sunglasses. "I'm gonna scram before they call security, go con one of the rigged games for me, Tiger."

"Will do." Stan nodded seriously.

"Later, old man. Nerd." Jimmy nodded at both of them before he strolled away, leaving Ford glowering at his back. 

"I hate him so much."

"Isn't he just the coolest?" 

"What? No!" Ford's glare shot to his twin. "What's with your face?"

"Uh- it's face paint? Looks really cool? I'm a tiger." Stan made roaring noises, hands curled into claws. 

"It's a bit childish, don't you think?" Ford stuck his nose up. 

"Hey!" Stanley shoved him. "Carla thinks it looks great!"

Carla. Who Grunkle Dipper thought Stan had a crush on. Why would Stanley have a crush, that didn't make sense. Ford shoved him back. "So what? We're thirteen, Stanley, facepaint is for babies."

"Oh, and that girly toy's for Grunkle Dipper, is it?" Stan's fists clenched and Ford mirrored it, ready for a twin scrap. 

"Can it, Stanley!" 

"Whoa, boys," Dipper knelt down, pushing the axolotl toy against Ford's chest as his other hand rested on Stan's shoulder. Ford gripped the axolotl on instinct to prevent something that was his from falling to the ground, and felt a very deep well of insecurity over the fact. "How about we don't start killing each other over facepaint and a toy?"

"He started it." Stan scoffed and crossed his arms, shrugging off Dipper.

"He was causing trouble! Again!" Ford pointed.

"Alright, that's it." Dipper moved quick, snagging them both around the middle and hefting them under each arm like a sack. Ford clung to the axolotl to make sure he didn't lose it.

"Put us down! This is an indignity!"

"Not cool, Dip!"

"You're both cranky, and I'm hungry. We're getting some hot food and going to go look at cute animals. I hear another fight and I'm dragging your butts back to the shack." Dipper started walking towards the food vans.

"Stay outta it, old man!" Stan tried to wriggle free, kicking and squirming.

"Yeah," Ford tried a different approach, going totally limp to make himself heavier. "This is twin business!"

"Don't I know it." Dipper scoffed, something in his voice that sounded sadder than the angry Ford was expecting. "You know- one day you two are gonna be old geezers like me, and you're gonna look back and go 'why did I waste time fighting my twin instead of having fun together'."

"As if! I'm never getting old!"

"And you don't know anything about being a twin! Stay outta it!"

"I can still drop you two, you know."

#

Ford munched mutinously on hot chips, loathe to admit he felt much better now he was eating real food. 

"Wow, Grunkle Dipper, are you psychic?" Stan said through a mouthful of hot dog with ketchup and mustard. He was messing up the face paint he was so supposedly proud of, Ford didn't get it. Couldn't he just be neater?

"You two goobers skipped breakfast and it's like, 3pm. Obviously you're hangry. Don't need to fake having psychic powers for that." Dipper rolled his eyes as they walked back to the petting zoo, staring suspiciously at his star-shaped corn dog. "How did they even get the pentagram shape, that's just weird."

"Obviously it's to match the branding for the Tent of Telepathy pentagram," Ford grumbled as they reached the petting zoo. "Stanley's going to be recognised.

"Oh. Yeah." Dipper dropped his Mr Mystery hat on Stan's head. "Problem solved. Just don't make eye contact."

"Can't speak. Eating."

"This will never work," Ford groaned as they surveyed the petting zoo. Well. At least the hot chips were nice. The animals were also quite cute. 

Dipper's jacket buzzed. "Hold on, I gotta take this."

 He juggled Ford's axolotl and his own food, flicking open his flip phone as he took a few steps away. "Gravity Falls Mystery Shack, Mr Mystery speaking. Yeah, we do party tours-"

Ford deliberately tuned out, trying to remember every fact he could about all the animals in sight. Farm animals were just so much less interesting than rarer animals, or ones that were adapted to unusual environments. The petting zoo proprietor was at the back fixing one of the gates Jimmy had kicked. He still looked upset.

Stan sidled up to him, Ford saw in the blurry periphery between glasses and eye. The dull red of Stan's vest was distinct. 

Ford was still annoyed about everything. 

"I like the goats a lot," Stan informed him, like it was a big important thing. "Look at that one, he keeps headbutting everything."

"You two have a lot in common."

"Yeah!" Stan grinned. How did he just let things go so quickly? Or pretend he did, Ford knew his brother really could hold a grudge if he wanted to. "And look! See the brown one? He's the one that chewed my vest! That makes him my favourite!"

"Seriously?" Was that really his criteria? "He seems rather small in comparison to the other baby goats."

"He's got personality." Stan crammed the last of his hot dog in his mouth before grinning at Ford, teeth stained with bread and sauce and cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk's. "Jus' 'ike 'e!"

"Stanley, that looks gross," Ford laughed and was angry he did. He was really trying to stay justifiably angry. 

A loud curse had them both tensing as their heads snapped to the petting zoo guy, just in time to watch him aim a kick the little brown goat Stanley said was his favourite. There was a pained bleat.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?!" Stanley dropped the hot dog, immediately climbing onto the fence to shake his fist at the guy. "What's your problem, jerk?!"

"Stanley, don't make a scene-" because if some monster could kick a little goat, what would he do to Stanley?

"Buzz off, you brats." The guy waved them off dismissively. 

Ford could see Stanley getting angrier, shaking with pent up energy, ready to explode, and didn't know what to do besides- "Dipper!"

"Hang on- I'll call you back-" Dipper flicked the phone shut, jogging over with a worried look "Who's hurt, do I need to call an ambulance?"

"Stan's about to start a fight." Ford hid his hands behind his back, unsure what else to do with them. People were staring again, why did Stanley always make things loud?

"He just kicked a goat!" Stan pointed. 

"What?" Dipper's face grew dark. "What's wrong with you, man?! Who kicks an animal?!"

"I said buzz off, ya old fart! And take those kids with you! I'm busy!"

Stanley started climbing the fence, a leg hooking over before Dipper hefted him up and set him next to Ford. Ford's face was red, able to feel the whispers of the surrounding crowd like weights on his back. 

"Easy, kids." Dipper took his hat back, fitting it on his head at an adventurous angle. "Let Mr Mystery handle this."

He handed Ford the axolotl, and he instantly smooshed his face into it to not have to look at anyone. That didn't prevent him from hearing as Grunkle Dipper raised his voice, not quite a yell but definitely loud.

"Ladies and gentlemen, good people of Gravity Falls! You all know me, Mr Mystery of your beloved Mystery Shack, and today I'm here to support my fellow purveyor of the strange and unexplained, like the charitable and good-natured businessman I am!"

Stan snorted beside Ford, and okay, yep, that was pretty funny. Grunkle Dipper really was such a liar. 

"Imagine my shock to find that one of these attractions is run by a man so cruel he would kick a little baby goat! In front of my great nephews, no less! Probably traumatising them-" Dipper lowered his voice to a whisper for a moment. "Play it up, if you want."

"Oh, I'm so traumatised!" Stan sighed dramatically and slung an arm around Ford's shoulders. "And my twin here can't even show his face, he's that sad!"

Ford managed a squeak and a nod, absolutely not daring to look up. Nope. He'd rather jump into that fake bottomless pit outside the Mystery Shack. The fact that he could hear murmurs of agreement all around him was not helping. What did Grunkle Dipper say? 'Like lemmings'?

"See? The Mystery Shack would never promote something like this! In fact, I'm a bit curious as to why my rival- who I definitely respect- didn't pick up on this big ol' warning sign, what with his psychic powers that he talks about so much! I mean- guy's got a whole song and dance about it, don't we deserve an answer for something just, I dunno, slipping by?"

There was a chorus of "yeah!"s and Ford snuck a peek out, and the grin Grunkle Dipper wore was the first time Ford truly understood what the idiom 'cat who got the cream' meant when applied to a person's face. 

Ford sidled over and tugged the edge of Dipper's jacket, getting him to lean down as he whispered, "Isn't this mean?"

"Nah, kid, this is revenge. Revenge feels great." Dipper patted his head. "Don't believe what anyone else tells you."

There was the sound of a kerfuffle and Dipper's head snapped to the sound, tipping the brim of his hat back. A large man with a snow white pompadour made his way through the crowd, powder blue suit bedazzled with rhinestones of various colours. A round gem shone at his throat. "Excuse me! Excuse me, everyone, Gideon comin' through!"

Gideon Gleeful, Grunkle Dipper's nemesis, raised a hand with a concerned smile. "Everyone, please, I respectfully ask for your silence while I try and sort out what's got y'all in such a tizzy."

"Oh, just the Tent of Telepathy promoting animal cruelty in front of kids," Dipper crossed his arms with a satisfied smile, leaning back against the fence. Ford saw Stanley look him over before mimicking the pose. Ford wanted to turn invisible, but since that wasn't an option, he shuffled as much behind his Grunkle and twin as he could, out of view. 

"Pardon me?" Gideon turned and looked at Dipper properly, as if realising who it was. His eyes darted down to Ford and Stan, and a chill went down Ford's spine for some reason. Gideon's smile grew a bit. "My, my- the Pines family! It is such a gift to have you here, at my lil' ol' carnival! Such a gift."

 "Sure is. Served up on a silver platter and all." Dipper's smile was there but his voice didn't match it. "So, quick question: did you forget to use your telepathy to, what, screen your hires? You've got a real winner here with goat-punter."

"He kicked a goat!" Stanley egged on. "In front of kids!"

"Ah- well, you see, everyone!" Gideon turned to the crowd. "The Tent of Telepathy would, of course, never endorse anything as heinous as kicking a sweet, innocent, baby animal, of course not! Why, I'm even going to fire this man right now and have someone else man the petting zoo, just to prove to you all that I would never allow such a thing under my watch!"

"He musta been real powerful to hide his intentions from your innate abilities. That you have." Dipper's head tilted. "Unless… gosh, what other reason could there be? After all, it's not like you've been, I dunno, lying to all these good townspeople."

"I'm as honest as can be! That's a Lil Gideon guarantee," Gideon placed a hand over his- not his heart, higher up. Over that gem on his neck. "I swear on my lucky bolo tie."

"Sure you do." Dipper started nudging Ford and Stan away. "Well, Gideon, good for you, real morally upstanding, drop by the Mystery Shack, folks, we've got the Happiest Pig in the World, scientifically proven!"

"Be seeing you, Pines family! Always a pleasure to catch up! Give them a hand, folks, for exposing such cruelty!"

"Thank you, thank you! Mystery Shack wins!" Dipper leaned down and whispered an order. "Stanley! Smoke bomb!"

"On it!" Stan threw one out the ground in a puff of smoke and sparkles, Dipper managing to get them into the crowd right as it swarmed Gideon.  

"Are we going now? Please?" Ford had to ask, barely able to hear himself over the excited, screaming crowd. He was desperate to go back to the shack and hide his face forever.

"Yep." Dipper's nudging became more insistent. "We're getting outta here."

"But I wanna take the goat with us! He's not happy here!"

"We're not stealing a goat, Stanley!" Ford snapped as they reached the crowd's edge, the pressure easing off. "We're- what are we doing?"

"Run, we're running." Dipper looked back over his shoulder, hackles up like a street dog Ford once saw squaring off against a vicious-looking alleycat. Like there was danger. "We're running fast. Go!"

They both took off at the bark, racing each other and their Grunkle in the direction of the parking lot because- well, he sounded insistent. But why? Gideon looked like he was made of pastels and hairspray, was that really Grunkle Dipper’s nemesis? What danger was there from some TV psychic? 

Ford’s next step didn’t touch the ground. 

He looked down as the ground lowered away- no, he was being lifted- and there was a distinct pressure squeezing his whole body. His head whipped from side to side, seeing Grunkle Dipper and Stan in the air as well. Stan was covering his eyes. Dipper looked confused. “Wait- what?”

Their bodies rotated in the air with the ease Ford would turn a chess piece on a board, and Gideon stood waiting with one hand on his bolo tie, the other outstretched, and a grin twisting his freckled, reddened face. His torso heaved like he was out of breath.

“There you are! I- oh Heavens to Betsy that was quite a run-” he lowered his hand to brace against a knee. Ford felt the grip on them  tighten, even as Stan had his eyes clenched shut and Grunkle Dipper was squirming like he could get free. “Whew!”

“But-” Grunkle Dipper sounded dumbfounded, even as he kicked out at nothing. “You’re a phony! A fraud- the biggest fake in town! I proved it like- eight times!”

“A fraud?” Gideon straightened up and ran a hand over his pompadour, smoothing a few loose hairs as he neatened up and strolled over, wingtip shoes clicking. “Tell me, Pines family, is this fake?”

The axolotl toy was yanked out of Dipper’s hands and Ford’s mouth moved before he could think it through. “Hey! That’s mine!’

“Is that so?” Gideon smiled innocently. “Whoops. I broke it.”

The toy ripped in two. Ford couldn’t stop himself from feeling like something in him got ripped in two as well, which was stupid, there were so many more pressing matters- focus on intellect, think it through, find a way out, every problem had a solution, it was just a dumb toy-

But he won it himself… 

“Gideon!” Dipper snarled out, like that street dog once did. “I’m gonna rearrange your face, you evil little b-” Dipper’s mouth was snapped shut by invisible force.

“Gracious, I should wash your mouth with soap, I really should.” Gideon tutted. “Now, I have a carnival to finish running, so I think we need to save the rest of this lil catch-up for later!”

He lifted his hand and flung it to the side, the three of them flying through the air towards Gideon’s tour bus- and the open trunk of the RV- before Ford hit metal. His head rang like a bell, vision getting spotty and dark at the edges, as Gideon stepped into view again, reaching up to the lid of the trunk. His bolo tie glowed under his other hand.

“Good night, y’all!” and Ford felt the blood rush from his head, everything going black as the door slammed shut.