#i was debating whether to call him to get coffee today or not -cos getting coffee on the office with him every day is kind of our thing

[rainnbepourin]

🤦🏻‍♀️

Me : *decides to get over a crush because the guy most likely has a girlfriend even though he's kind of flirty with me at work which my other coworkers have commented on and decides to cut all contact beyond the strictly professional stuff*

Also me : *sees him again in the office today after a week away and has a good time with him because he was all happy and smiley and cute and realizes I genuinely like this guy and regardless of any crush I just want to be friendly with him and being strictly professional in order to get over the crush is just not worth losing that*

Also me : *dresses nicely just to be as pretty as I can around him even though I've genuinely accepted the fact that it won't ever happen*

[foodieforthoughts]

Summary: Chris contemplates how you might not be happy to be with him, only to be surprised by the reason behind everything.

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Warnings: a little angsty, eventually super fluffy

A/N: Something that was written when I was more than frustrated with my 'Satan reincarnated' boss and I had a breakdown.

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed) :

@christhickevans @toomanyfandomsshreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @avengedwritings @twhstuckylover @the-soot-sprite @carpediemm-18 @diegos-butt @mariestark @cheyentjj @zealoushound

Title: Promises

Chris loved his job, but today all he wanted to do was be with you.

Paying attention at the press conference was the hardest thing for him right now. He was present in the room but his mind was many miles away in Boston. While he fought the urge to check the time on his watch, his phone felt heavy in his pocket, making him anxious with every passing minute.

He knew something was off the moment he heard your voice. You sounded grumpy over the phone, ending your sentences curtly while giving off-handed replies. The abrupt manner in which you had disconnected the call had left him worried; making it more difficult than it already was to put up a show for the audience.

A deep seated thought kept nagging him, terrified him even. He was scared that one day the distance, his long absence from your life, would push you away and you'll end things with him. You were the best thing to happen in his life and he never wanted to lose you. Yes, you had assured him that his professional life would never be an issue, but then why wouldn't you chose someone who could be there with you in person?

"Get a grip on yourself, Chris." He scolded himself while staring at his own reflection in the bathroom during a break. His thoughts were running wild and he needed to calm himself. The last thing he wanted was to appear in tabloids while being pointed out that he was ungrateful towards his fans.

Fishing out his phone, he checked if you had sent him any messages but there were none. He debated whether to call you, knowing full well that you were at your job and probably busy too. His finger hovered over your name, wanting to hear your voice and finding out if something was wrong, but before he could make a decision, there was a knock on the door. Putting the phone back in his pocket and taking one look at himself again, he forced himself to smile before exiting the bathroom.

When finally Chris reached his hotel room, the first thing he did was call you. He had been on edge the whole day, his co-stars had noticed it too and offered to help, while he kept checking the time for the day to finally be over. Running his fingers through his hair, he looked out the window at the darkening evening sky and twinkling cityscape while he waited for you to receive the call.

When he heard your exhausted 'hello', Chris's concern grew ten folds.

"Hi sweetheart. Are you unwell?" He sat at the edge of his bed, kicking off his shoes and bringing his legs up to sit cross-legged.

"Having a bad week at work."

You replied curtly again, your voice pricking at his heart. He hated that he couldn't see you right now, unable to determine your mood by looking at your expressions.

"Is everything okay?"

He heard you sigh, the sound of shuffling papers accompanying right after. He heard you curse under your breath, the creaking of a chair as you stood up, until you took another deep breath.

"Are you still at the office?" He asked, tracing the checkered pattern on his pants with his finger.

"Yeah. This is the second time this week that my boss told me to work late." The familiar beeping of the coffee machine came through the phone. "But don't worry, I called your sister and she said she'll look after Dodger until I come home."

"That is not why I was asking-" Chris sighed. He often worried about Dodger, but he trusted you enough to leave his best friend with you. He had noticed how you treated the pooch like your family, loving him the way Chris did, if not more.

But what if this wasn't the life you had planned, Chris wondered.

"Chris," he dreaded the end of your relationship when you said his name.

This is it, he repeated in his mind. He sat up straight in his bed, already feeling like his heart was going to jump out of his chest.

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

He heard you sigh, imagining you leaning against the counter in the break room and looking out the window too, waiting for your coffee to brew. Judging by the time difference, you should have been home by now, tucked into your bed with Dodger by your side.

"I know I have been bitchy lately. I understood it was wrong on my part to act rudely towards you this morning. But I have been on edge the whole week and I hate it."

Chris stared wide-eyed at his reflection in the window pane. He was waiting for the apocalypse to strike but here you were apologising to him and not dumping his old ass.

"But... I think I know why." He heard the hesitancy in your voice, knowing completely that you were hiding something.

"What do you mean, honey?"

After a long moment of silence, you chuckled. The gleeful sound was like harmony to his ears but he was left utterly confused. "I was going to wait until you came home, but if I am going to be having mood swings, you probably need a heads up."

It did not even take Chris a second to understand what you meant. He nearly dropped his phone as realisation settled in, his lips breaking into a smile and his heart racing but this time with a completely different sentiment.

"Are you-?"

"I think so. I mean that's what the five pregnancy tests indicated."

"Oh my God! That's... That's amazing. I mean..." He was laughing and almost crying, he felt so happy, so delighted to hear this news. But it also pinched at his heart that he couldn't be there to find out about it in person.

And so he made a decision.

Standing outside the door at the middle of the night with his bags on the ground, Chris turned the doorknob to enter the silent house. Dodger was quick to run up to him in the darkness, jumping up and licking his face. Keeping his voice low and patting his best friend, Chris took his bags inside the house, closed the door behind him and walked towards the bedroom with Dodger in tow.

You were curled up inside the comforter, hugging his pillow to your chest while wearing one of his old t-shirts. He tiptoed towards you as Dodger jumped up on the bed and laid down beside you. Chris took a moment to marvel at your beautiful face, before gently shaking you awake.

"Chris?" You sat up quickly on the bed, mouth agape in shock until you launched yourself in his arms. "What are doing here?"

"I told them I had to go home. I want to be with you through everything, the morning sickness, the cravings, mood swings, whatever that comes along with it. I promised you I would take care of you, I am not going to go back on my word." He kissed your forehead and pulled you in for a tight hug.

"I love you, Chris."

Chris let his hand travel down your back and brought it to the front to rest on your tummy. It was obviously too early for you to be showing, yet he felt like he could already feel his child growing. He felt overwhelmed with emotions, trying to blink away the welling tears but failing at it.

Kissing your lips and feeling the closeness of your body, Chris laid down next to you with you nestled in his arms.

"I love you too, baby." He said against your hair, threading his fingers through your tresses. "Let's make a family."

[bts-reveries]

young one | 23

Jungkook sat on the couch staring at his phone that’s on the coffee table, for almost thirty minutes, debating whether or not he should call you right now. 

What if you were busy?

What if you were in the middle of an exam?

Out with your parents?

Having fun with Sian?

He didn’t want to bother or disturb you. 

But what if you were waiting for his call? 

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try. As he leans forward to grab his phone, he hears a knock. 

“Jungkookah!” He hears as he walks towards the door. Turning the knob open, his four friends walk in without a single word from Jungkook. He sighs.

“What’s with the sad face,” Donghyun asks Jungkook. “We brought drinks and fried chicken.” They put everything on the coffee table, covering everything he had on top. His phone and a little box.

“I’m just not in the mood for it today,” Jungkook tells them, grabbing his stuff from the table. 

“Again? Wait. Is that--?” Yuri stares at the box Jungkook had in his hand along with his phone. Without hesitation she grabs the small box and plops down on the couch. Jungkook lets out a big sigh, sitting by her as she opens the small box.

“An engagement ring?” Sungjae asks, sitting in front of Yuri. 

“It’s pretty,” she says. “Guessing she said no? Is that the reason why she left?” Yuri says taking the ring out of the box. She’s about to try it on when Jungkook snatches it back from her.

“Rude,” she laughs out. Jungkook scoffs.

“Says the one who took it from me first. Don’t put it on, it’s not for you,” he says, annoyed. Yuri looked at him unamused.

“Why did she leave anyways?” Minhyuk asks, mouth full of food. 

“We’re both on different paths. She was always busy with work and school so she barely had any time for any one. Her mom suggested they stay with her for the meantime so she can focus on her education.”

“So she doesn’t work anymore?” Donghyun asks. Jungkook shakes his head no.

“Wait why couldn’t you go with them?” Minhyuk asks next. 

“Umm..” Jungkook tilts his head to the side. “Uh, she thought it’d be good for us to go on a break. While we figure out our life separately.”

“That’s good, you get another chance in life,” Sungjae laughs. 

“Yeah. She ended his life right when we graduated college, no?” Donghyun adds in, looking at Sungjae. 

“What?” Jungkook says, shocked. “Ended? That’s right when my life started, what do you mean?”

“You barely had any time to figure out what you wanted to do and when the whole Yn baby thing happened, you had no choice but to pick that path in life,” Donghyun explains.

“But I like how my life is now,” Jungkook says, confused at what his friends were trying to say.

“Then why are you so mopey?” Yuri says, rolling her eyes. “You were always so fun whenever we hung out.”

“Because both the best people in my life are gone?” Jungkook says as if it wasn’t obvious enough.

“You have us now,” Yuri tells him, putting her hand on his knee. Jungkook quickly pushed her hand off. 

“In the past, Yn took you from us.”

“I guess we came back at the right time to get you back on a life that fits you,” Donghyun says, following after Minhyuk.

���We five started together, we’re ending together,” Sungjae says, lifting up his drink. 

“Maybe if Yn wasn’t too selfish and greedy, we could’ve been friends,” Minhyuk says, making Yuri laugh.

“No way! I don’t think we’d get along. I never really liked her,” Yuri says, grabbing her drink from the table. 

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, “that’s something you both have in common.”

“She didn’t like herself either? HA. Selfish, greedy, insecure,” Donghyun listed out. “Why did you ever like her?”

“She’s far from any of those. Maybe if you were a little nicer and gave her a chance, you’d like her too,” Jungkook tells him. “I’m starting to see why she doesn’t like me hanging out with you guys,” he says quietly.

“What?!” Minhyuk says out of shock. He laughs a bit, “She really hates it when you have any fun. Nothing’s changed.”

“Yeah I think it’s a good idea you two took a break. You can’t have her controlling your life. She doesn’t know what’s good for you, you’re your own person. She can’t tell you who you can and can’t be friends with. A break will be good for you,” Yuri speaks. 

“My own girlfriend for over six years doesn’t know what’s good for me, but the lady I hit with my shopping cart suddenly does?” Jungkook says, laughing. Yuri looks at him surprised.

“I knew you before she did!” She argues.

“Jungkook, just take this as a sign that the world is giving you another shot in life. Don’t let it go. You have a choice this time, pick the right one,” Sungjae tells him. 

Before Jungkook can speak up, he hears a knock on the door. He gets up without a word and walks to the front door.

“Hyung...s,” he says, surprised when all six of his older brothers stood outside his door. 

“How are you holding up buddy? We finally were all free at the same time,” Hoseok says sheepishly, holding a plastic bag filled with ice cream. “So we wanted to check up on you.”

“Would you be down for a guys night?” Jin says, holding Haneul in one arm. “Haneul wanted to see you too, so I brought him with me.” Haneul smiles at his uncle Kookie and waves his little hand. 

“Mingyu wouldn’t stop screaming when I was leaving, so…” Jimin says, pointing to the cheeky baby on his chest. “Brought him too.” Jungkook finally breaks into a smile when he takes in all of his hyung’s faces and also his nephews.

“I’m down, co--”

“Jungkook who’s at the door?” Yuri yells from behind him. All the boys’ eyes grew wide as they heard a girl’s voice coming from inside. 

“My friends!” Jungkook yells back at her. 

“The babysitters?” Donghyun answers back with a laugh.

Jungkook looks at his hyungs with a tired look. “I didn’t invite them over, they just came.”

“Like us?” Taehyung says with a smile.

“Yeah, but you guys aren’t getting on my nerves so it’s okay. Come in,” Jungkook says, walking away from the door. 

-

It was rather awkward. Jungkook has never expected this to happen. You and Sian gone and his two separate groups of friends gathered around him in his living room. 

“Why is that staring at me?” Yuri says, scratching her head and pointing to Haneul.

“T-that?” Jin stammers, looking around at his friends. “What are you saying about my kid?” 

“I’m saying tell him to stop staring, that’s rude,” Yuri answers.

“You’re one to say what’s rude or not,” Jungkook mumbles. 

“I can’t help it that my kid likes to stare at strange looking things,” Jin tells her. Yuri gasps and the maknae line tries to hold in their laugh. 

“So are we just going to sit here and stare at each other or what,” Yoongi says, scanning his eyes over Jungkook’s friends.

“I mean we were all hanging out and doing fine but you all decide to show up unannounced,” Sungjae says. 

“I heard you four did the same,” Jimin says. 

“Yeah but we’re Jungkook’s friends,” Yuri answers. “He likes it when we’re over.”

“And we’re Jungkook’s family, he likes it when we’re over,” Jin tells her. 

“Oh, you guys are the ones who act like Jungkook’s dads right? The ones that tell him what to do and who to be friends with…” Minhyuk says, “I heard you guys don’t like us either--”

“We don’t.” Taehyung tells him without expression.

“Is that why you came,” Donghyun says.

“No, we came for Jungkook,” Namjoon finally speaks. “If you guys are his friends you know what he’s going through.”

“Which is why we came and celebrated,” Sungjae says, slapping a hand to Jungkook’s back. 

“Celebrated? What’s there to celebrate,” Hoseok laughs. 

“Yn and her kid finally leaving and giving Jungkook his old life back,” Yuri says. 

“Giving Jungkook his old life back?” Taehyung asks, confused. 

“When we were in college, that was the best time of our life,” Minhyuk explains. “It was just us five. But then Yn came and our friendship started to falter. It was fine at first--”

“No it wasn’t. Ever since Yn came it got so boring,” Yuri says.

“Well Yn would come with us to parties, but she’d get drunk too fast and had to go home before the party started started. You know? Or she’d ask Jungkook to stay at the dorms with her or study with her instead and so Jungkook started hanging with us less and less,” Minhyuk continues.

“Eventually, Yn did start having fun at parties with Jungkook but they often go off on their own rather than actually be with us four,” Dongyun adds. 

“Then she got knocked up and they stopped hanging out with us completely,” Sungjae says. “Jungkook really had no choice.”

“I beg to differ,” Jin says. “It was Jungkook’s choice to stay or leave Yn and he chose his life now. He never regretted any of it either.”

“How would you know, you weren’t there,” Yuri argues. 

“I wasn’t there?” Jin says, looking at her with a smile. “Yah. Who do you think helped out with Yn and Jungkook’s starting family?” 

“Hyung was the first one to have a kid out of us so he knew what to do and everything. He helped me and Yn from the beginning,” Jungkook speaks up, after hearing what everyone had to say. “And he’s right, I chose to stay with Yn. She never told me to stop hanging out with you guys back then and she still hasn’t now.”

“I believe you four are just holding a, what, seven? year long grudge that you have over Yn.” Namjoon says, looking over Jungkook’s friends. “You believe that she took Jungkook away from you four because you were friends with him first but he chose Yn over you four. You can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that Jungkook likes-- loves-- Yn more than the four of you and you like Jungkook way too much to put the blame on him. But really, none of it is his fault. He’s his own person, he can choose who to like, who not to like and who to leave and who to stay with. No one can make him choose. If someone does force him to choose someone else, then he would be living in regret right now. Do you understand?”

“Are your little brains comprehending this?” Yoongi says, staring at them with a straight face. The four’s eyes shift from Namjoon to Yoongi quitely.

“Are you understanding what uncle Namjoon is saying?” Jin asks, looking down at Haneul who’s sitting on his lap. Haneul nods his head, even if he really doesn’t know what’s going on. “Yaaaah~” Jin lets out a proud noise. “Even my son has a bigger brain than you,” he says, pointing at Yuri. She scoffs at him.

“So for example,” Namjoon says, continuing, “if Yn told Jungkook to choose her over you four, and Jungkook didn’t want that, he’d be living in regret right now. But he’s not. Jungkook chose what he wanted, so he’s content with the life that he has now.”

“Content? When we first came here he looked so upset--”

“Because Yn and Sian aren’t here,” Taehyung says. “The two people that made him the happiest are gone.”

“What’s Haneul minus happy?” Jin says, looking at Haneul once again.

“Sad!” Haneul yells, making a sad face. Jin looks at the four with an expression that said ‘what’d I say??’

“So what are you all trying to say,” Yuri asks, tired of the six boys.

“We’re saying you four are selfish for thinking of yourself rather than Jungkook. You call yourselves his “friends” yet disregard his feelings. When the blame is put on you, you throw it at someone else that has no part or fault in the situation. You four are adults now, yet continue to act immature. You can’t go back to the past, it’s the past for a reason. Jungkook was fine before you got here. Having other friends is okay but you can’t come in here and start controlling his life as if you were a part of it in the first place. You were his past yet you act like you’re his present and future. You step into his life and judge every part of it. You don’t bother to understand what Yn is going through or give Sian a chance. He’s a really sweet boy and Yn is one of the most selfless people I know. Yet you judge her for something your mind made up years ago. They aren’t the bad guys here. They didn’t ruin Jungkook’s life. If they did, I don’t think their relationship would have reached this far. So stop saying Jungkook had no choice. He chose to be with Yn, he chose to stay with her when she got pregnant, and he chose to live his life with the two. You four have no business coming in and taking him away as if you know what he wants. Jungkook’s a really nice kid and he sees you four as his old friends. You’re lucky that he’s able to see past all of your flaws and accept all of you as his friends but I think your true colors are finally appearing to him. None of you deserve to have Jungkook as your friend if you can’t accept the life he’s living right now and the people in it.” Namjoon says. Everyone was quiet. Namjoon looks at Jungkook and the young one mouths a ‘thank you’ to him as if he said everything he felt the past hour that he couldn’t put into words. 

“And I think I’m speaking for Jungkook, and everyone else here when I say this,” Namjoon continues, “but please get out.”

The four silently turn to Jungkook who nods his head. Yuri was the first to get up, rolling her eyes as she walked to the front door. The three followed silently.

“So they know how to shut their mouths,” Hoseok says with a small laugh.

“Namjoon hyung was so good,” Jimin says, with wide eyes. “Right Gyu? Uncle Joonie is so cool, no?”

After the four were out of their sight, Namjoon looks over at Jungkook and the young one sighs out of relief.

“Hyuuuungg,” he whined, walking over to Namjoon and sitting on his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing his cheek to Namjoon’s forehead.

“Hyung, thank you,” he says, hugging Namjoon tightly. Joon pats his little brother’s back.

“You’re too nice sometimes you know. And color blind,” Namjoon says, pulling away from Jungkook slightly and tilting his head up to look him in the eye. “When you see the red flags, drop them.”

“I told you you’re oblivious,” Yoongi says, pointing at Jungkook. “Your so called friends are so rude and you let them walk all over you.”

“They act like it’s their world and we’re just living in it,” Taehyung says with a smirk. “When really… I’m the main character here.” Jimin and Hoseok look at him as if he was stupid.

“I thought I was the main character,” Jungkook says, pointing at himself, pouting.

“You are,” Jin says, looking at him. “For now.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Jungkook says, “give me him.” He gestures for Jin to pass Haneul to him and Jin does so. Namjoon groans at the added weight.

“Hand over Gyu Gyu as well,” Jungkook says, reaching his arms towards Jimin. Namjoon’s eyes widens and Jimin laughs as he walks over to the three, adding Mingyu on top.

“Yah-yah y-yah Jungkook,” Namjoon says as Jungkook bounces the two on his lap. He holds the two of them to his chest and leans into Namjoon’s chest. 

“I wanna stay like this until my babies come back,” Jungkook says. 

“I- I don’t,” Namjoon says, struggling to breathe. 

“Okay well what are we going to do about this,” Taehyung says, looking at all the food on the coffee table. “They really just leave their trash behind.”

“Are we going to eat it?” Hoseok asks, opening one of the boxes.

“I refuse to eat anything those demons touched,” Jin says, taking out his phone. “I’ll order. What do you guys want?”

“Mommy,” Mingyu says. Jungkook frowned.

“Me too,” he says, looking over at Jin who just looked at them with a blank expression. 

“Well that’s not on the menu.”

♛♛♛♛♛♛♛

young one

♛ part twenty-three: uncle joonie is so cool ♛

pairings: photographer, dad!jungkook x hostess, mom!reader

a/n: hope this make y’all feel better 🥰

taglist: @kookietsukkie @brinnalaine @chocobetterknot @silentlyimpractical @aianloveseven @jayhope88 @preciouschimine @noelitaaaa @butterflylion @yogugui @jikachoo @samros95 @yoongis-cumsock @strwberry-jam @sope-and-shine @cosmicdaylight @eatjeanjin @rjsmochii @i-swear-im-a-soft-stan @peoplejustcanthandlemywierdness @prdshobi @marmaribelarova @ramyagovindraj @casspirit0705 @ssyubb @smauslut @taexmichi @codeinebelle @cecedrake2217 @hellotherehoneybee @ddofa @winterwidow27 @ephyra1230 @heartfeltscribblings @nightapple4jk @applejuice5000 @salty-for-suga @lemonteacyst @princessjazzyjazz @bamboozled-jaykay @bigimpression @dammit-jjk @kookie-sun0097 @kookoo-kachoo @waddlebby @taekookcaneatme @jikooksgirl19 @tanumiki @strawberryforever25 @hobiismyhopeu

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[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Spelling Bee (Brick/Blossom)

Happy birthday to @genovah​! She is always inspiring me to come up with more PPG content, a true hero. I’m back with another entry in the ongoing Shooketh, Not Stirred high school AU Reds series for your entertainment. As always, this can be read alone, but it happens in the same universe as part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5. This is also posted on my AO3.

Summary: Brick and Blossom hunker down in the library to study for the upcoming regional spelling bee.

***Reblogs are extremely appreciated, since this probably won’t show up in the tags due to cursing. Thank you! <3

xxx

In fairness, Brick had come to the library during his free period with the pure intention to learn. And he was certainly learning something. But somewhere between sliding into his seat opposite Blossom and watching her lips move around insouciant as if it were a strawberry slathered in ganache, his purity was torn from his weak, teenage boy fingers and there was absolutely no going back. 

“Brick, are you listening to me?” She touched his hand across the table. 

“Yup.”

“Did you need me to repeat the word?”

“Yup.”

“In-SOO-see-uhnt.” She sounded it out slowly, and hand to god, that dominating SOO went straight to his cock.

This, of course, was fine. 

“Origin?” he asked. 

She twirled her hair around her finger and puckered her lips. “French.”

Fuck.

“I…”

Blossom mistook his increasingly horny stupor for plain old stupor and sighed. “Are you even trying? Because if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were completely fine with Darla Dimpleton going to regionals instead of one of us.”

“I am not fine with that.”

Darla Dimpleton was an unassuming, unthreatening nobody with the personality of plain oatmeal. Brick would never have even bothered to learn her name had she not committed the cardinal sin of scoring so much extra credit while everyone else was busy having lives that she stole the number one GPA right from under him. Which meant she stole it from under Blossom too. Which meant Brick was no longer a respectable silver medal to Blossom’s gold, but currently ranked third and therefor merely happy to be on the podium at all (and for the record, no one has ever been happy merely to be on the podium, just like no one has ever been happy winning Most Improved: you sucked, and now you suck a little less. Except this time, you actually suck more because Darla fucking Dimpleton decided to Quaker Oats her way to the top of this rat race that doesn’t actually matter, but it’s the principle of the thing, i.e., the only thing that matters.). 

All of this to say, Darla Dimpleton was the Worst™ and she was one hundred percent going down. 

“Are you sure? Because you’re being awfully cavalier about this. Some might even call you insouciant.”

It was a testament to Brick’s powerful fondness for winning and being seen doing it that he spelled insouciant in one Darla Dimpleton-shaped cock blocking breath.

Blossom smiled like she knew something. “Much better.”  

Yeah, she knows a lot of things.

The problem with dating, Brick was convinced, was that suddenly the mundane became extraordinary. Everyday experiences that he had previously taken for granted—flying around Townsville, enjoying a cup of coffee, thwarting his sometimes murderous demonic overlord from distributing incriminating polaroids, that sort of thing—were suddenly exciting, thrilling even. Because now he got to do those things with Blossom, and Blossom was cool in a smarmy, elitist sort of way that both softened his heart and hardened his dick all at the same time, and that was kind of A Lot to deal with at 9 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“All right, do me,” Blossom said, and Brick coughed so badly his aforementioned weak, teenage boy fingers shook to stifle himself. 

Mercy, he thought, probably. But all his blood was rushing south and it was going to take a supernatural willpower to get through these words so that one of them could beat the upstart porridge peasant to this year’s regional spelling bee. 

“You’re the boss,�� he said, because it was true, and also because he liked the way she looked at him when he said it. Like he was now the ganache-coated strawberry in this overextended metaphor that he was too laden with Homeric concupiscence being in her general proximity to unpack. 

Concupiscence, there’s a ten dollar word for you, you horny genius. 

He made a mental note to brag to Blossom about this later. 

“Okay, let’s see…” Brick made a show of organizing the flashcards so that she wouldn’t see him discreetly re-situate his pants under the table. “Your word is cymotrichous.”

Blossom tapped her lips, and Brick found himself sympathizing with the Puritans in their absolute befuddlement over the libidinous effect of women having lips. Witchcraft, surely. “Could you use it in a sentence for me?”

Compelled entirely by black magic and therefor not responsible for his imminently questionable choices, Brick obliged her with: “Thinking about how I’d rather run my fingers through your cymotrichous hair for the rest of free period instead of sit here spelling words no one’s ever heard of.”

Blossom, who he was dead certain was extremely thirsty for him and had been for years long before they ever reconciled their rivalry, leaned over the desk separating them. Her hair, long and loose and indeed quite wavy today, was tempting. “Brick, are you flirting with me?”

It was a well-known fact of being a Weak-Fingered, Teenage Boy that one must never reveal such weakness, especially not in front of one’s girlfriend. On the other hand, co-opting said weakness and rebranding it as the suave truth was galaxy brain levels of flirting. And Brick, as has already been established, was a horny genius. “Yup.” He leaned in to meet her, and he twirled her hair between his fingers because they were weak for her, indeed. “How am I doing?”

Blossom, too determined to let her thirst deter her from her goal of sweet, academic retribution and bragging rights, tapped a finger to his lips. “Great. But we have so many words to spell, and only thirty minutes left to do them all. So get shuffling, stud.”

Well, he could work with that. One thing that made his relationship with Blossom work very well was their insatiable competitiveness. Whether they were whaling on each other over an empty parking lot, debating the efficacy of post-its as a note-taking device, or combining their powers to Captain Planet a cornmeal know-it-all back down the leaderboard where she belonged, they were relentless glory chasers. And the greater the challenge, the more they enjoyed the experience and each other. 

Blossom spelled her word perfectly, by the way. She stretched out the o-u-s at the end in a bewitching little whisper as she pulled away and her hair slipped through his fingers. That moment when the light changes and the temperature shifts and you’re weightless in a state of existential anticipation of something monumental about to happen, but not quite? That happened. Thirty minutes to explore the shape of that anticipation was enough time to taste it but not enough to savor it. Which, Brick supposed, was about to make this the best thirty minutes he was likely going to get all week. 

“Are you ready?” Blossom watched him from behind the card she’d drawn. She had a glint in her eyes that told him she was smiling behind that card. 

“Anytime.”

“Your word is eudaemonic.”

That fucking gorgeous ooh again.

“Define it.”

Blossom flushed as though he had just ordered her to bend over. She bit her lip (it must have been a ten Hail Mary’s kind of day when the Witch-Finder General caught a flesh and blood woman doing that with her improbably sorcerous lips) and grinned. “It means producing happiness. Based on the idea of happiness as the proper end of conduct.”

Producing happiness, which is proper, much like how Blossom came off as proper and even prim around adults, when really she was the most fun, most confident, most person he’d ever met, especially when she was spelling in that chiffon top (son of a bitch, that was a great top on her), and the only conduct he was interested in was of the happiest kind.

“Oh.” His throat clenched, and then his stomach twisted, and then his pants grew little too tight again in a full-body chain reaction that began and ended with a fierce determination not to give in first even though it would mean release because release would be meaningless without this etymological tête-à-tête. 

Don’t think about tête-à-têtes. 

Seventeenth century, noun, borrowed from the French meaning literally “head to head” (please, please stop hurting yourself like this).

“Brick?”

Brick cleared his throat. “Yup. Got it. E-u-d…”

Crisis averted, Brick picked the next card and promptly choked on his own tongue. Blossom made a show like she was concerned and are you all right? and please drink some water. Brick drank her water, which of course she had had her anatomically heretical lips on earlier, which was just fantastic for him. Tuesday fucking morning. 

Milieu was her word. 

“Milieu, hmm.” Blossom’s smile was spellbinding, which was a pun because he punned when he panicked. “Origin?”

You bitch, he thought, and be cool, and also, witchcraft.

Brick leaned back in his chair, slipped his trembling hands in his pockets, and squeezed every ounce of anything you can do I can do better into a winsome grin. “French.”

Blossom’s adult-facing façade cracked like an egg, and he got a glimpse of the raw delight she felt for this game, for the words, and for him for making it happen. For cultivating the electric milieu, if you will, currently driving them both into a state of impassioned, competitive euphoria at 9:42 a.m. in the library. 

“Right, um…” She stumbled over her words, and Brick had to restrain himself from crowing for joy and risk the rheumy-eyed librarian coming to scold them. 

By the time they got through another set of words, they were each visibly frustrated and doubly turned on by the other’s masochistic resolve not to throw in the towel. 

“Okay, ready for another round?” 

She wasn’t even trying to hide her intentions now, and that was just fine with Brick. “Of course.”

One more.

If it was another French word, he was fucking done. 

“Really?” Blossom truly had ice in her veins for the way she was able to school her face then. He couldn’t read her, and that was very bad. 

If it’s another fucking French word…

He could be over the desk and on her faster than you could say concupiscence. 

“Okay.” Blossom set down the flashcard she’d drawn and folded her hands on the table. She looked him dead in the eye licked her lips. “Succedaneum.”

The bookshelf shook but Brick’s fingers didn’t as they pinned Blossom’s over a Dewey Decimal-stamped spine and he kissed her with all the horny passion of a teenage genius who would make a note to thank the devil for giving women lips. One of his better ideas. 

xxx

“Hey, has anyone seen Blossom? I’ve sent her, like, four texts!” Bubbles shoved her phone, open to the ignored texts in question, in her sister’s face. “She was supposed to help me with Chem homework.”

Buttercup ducked. “No, and watch where you’re swinging that thing.”

“I saw her earlier,” Boomer said. “She was with Brick coming out of first period.”

“Oh, yeah.” Mike slung his arm around Boomer’s shoulders. “Don’t they both have a free period right now?”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “What a scam. Whoever decided to give the A-students free periods while the rest of us mere mortals gotta slave away is a straight-up Supervillain.”

Boomer snapped his fingers. “Hey, I just remembered! They both decided to compete for the spot at the regional spelling bee this year. I bet that’s what they’re doing.”

“God, that’s the saddest thing I have ever heard in my life. That’s a new low even for Blossom.”

“I heard there’s a cash prize for the regional winner,” Bubbles said. “It’s like twenty thousand bucks! Remember, everyone in school signed up and we had to have that assembly to narrow it down?”

“Twenty thou— How the tits did I miss that?!”

“I mean, it was all over the school,” Mike said. “We signed up too.”

“What? And no one thought to tell me I could’ve won the lottery?”

Boomer chuckled. “Dude, come on. You wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell against Darla Dimpleton.”

“Who?”

Bubbles cast Boomer a not worth it look, and he just sighed. “So, if they’re studying for the spelling bee, do you think they’re in the library?”

At that moment, Butch came bursting down the hall a little too fast to be human. Open lockers rattled on their hinges as he passed, and a Sophomore girl’s binder went flying, scattering looseleaf papers everywhere. Buttercup looked ready to punch him in the dick for breaking the no powers in school rule. “Guys, you’re gonna shit!” 

“Calm down before you blow a load, Jesus Christ.” Buttercup yanked him back down to the floor so he wouldn’t spontaneously float. 

Sensibly, Boomer asked, “Why?”

“‘Cause Brick and Blossom are making out in the library right now!”

Mike cringed. “Oh, come on.”

“The hell they are,” Buttercup said. 

Bubbles smiled. “Good for them.”

“I’m serious! There were books everywhere, and the noise—”

“Oh look, there goes my dignity. Better catch it before it gets away. C’mon, moron.” Buttercup dragged Butch down the hall over his protests. “What were you even doing in the library? I didn’t think you knew where it was…”

“Like that could ever happen,” Mike said. “Those two wouldn’t waste a minute of study time if it means beating out the competition.”

Boomer did not look so convinced. “I don’t know. I mean, they’re officially, for real dating now,”—“Finally!” Mike interjected—“so it’s not that unbelievable.”

The bell for the next period rang. Bubbles groaned thinking of stewing for an hour of Chem. At least she shared that class with Boomer and would not have to suffer alone. They parted from Mike and walked together through the throng of students rushing to get to their next period.

“Hey, do you think…” 

“I mean…” Boomer shrugged. 

They rounded the corner and nearly ran into Blossom dashing to her next class with a rushed “Got your texts talk later bye!” before she disappeared into the crowd. 

Bubbles whirled on Boomer. “Did you see her buttons—”

“Completely uneven—”

The late bell rang and made them jump. Among the last stragglers, they both dashed a bit too fast to get to class and made it to their seats just as Mr. Micelli finished writing a problem on the board. 

Boomer winked when she caught his eye a couple desks away from hers, and it took everything she had not to laugh.

“Good for her,” Bubbles said to herself. 

“You are late,” Mr. Micelli said. 

Everyone turned to watch Brick sink into his seat, his short hair totally askew and looking healthily flushed for a Tuesday morning. 

Boomer burst out laughing and needed a whole minute to calm down. 

He’d tell her later that the detention was worth it.

xxx

Witchcraft! 👁️👄👁️✨

[yuzukult]

effortlessly, the epilogue (m) || jjk & reader

title: effortlessy, the epilogue pairing: jungkook x reader word count: 5.6k genre: the after high school :) + my infamous poorly written smut a/n: it’s shorter than intended but... it’s out guys! because someone asked me when I planned on posting this and I thought that I was the only one who cared about this epilogue. ;u; Thanks for mentioning it to me, because it motivated me to write it again. Enjoy! series masterlist can be found here

"I want to take care of the planet like Greta Thunberg!"

"Noooo, wouldn't you want to be something cooler? Like a soccer player? How about Lionel Messi?"

"Forget soccer! I want to do something even better... make computers like Steve Jobs!"

One of the children frowns, shoulders slouching in disappointment and frustration of his classmates. Leaning down, you brush away the bangs that cover his eyes, gently pinching his chubby cheeks full of love and care. "What's wrong, Jaemin?"

"I don't want to be like Greta Thunberg or Lion Messi or Steve Work!" He exclaims, arms thrown in the air. 

"It's Lionel Messi and Steve Jobs, Jaemin!"

"Okay, okay," You say soothingly, hands cupping and thumbs rubbing against the flesh of his cheeks delicately. "That's fine, Jaemin, you don't have to be like those people if you don't want to. You can choose whatever profession you want, and whomever you want it to be like." 

"I want to be a swimmer, like Jeon Jungkook!"

"Mm," You hum, tapping your finger against your chin as if you're pondering about Jaemin's idea. "You could, if you'd like. Have you ever met Jeon Jungkook before?"

"No," He pouts, his bottom lip jutting out in dismay. "But momma showed me videos of hyung online and he seems like a very kind person." Nodding, your hands fall into the ones of Jaemin's, swaying your arms together to calm his nerves. Children tend to be very emotional, you learn after the many years of experience with them, and Jaemin is no exception. Finding ways to tame their anxiousness was the true challenge. "Want to hear a secret?"

His eyes widen as large as the cartoons he watches on TV. "Yes! What's the secret?"

Pretending to glance out to confirm that the coast is clear and that the other children had walked away to find something more interesting to direct their attention to, you whisper into Jaemin's ear. "Jeon Jungkook was my best friend."

Jaemin gasps. "No way. Your friend? Are you just saying that to me so I can feel better?" Yes, is what you really wanted to tell him, but truth to be told, you weren't lying. Kids were incredibly smart for even noticing that adults would say things to water down the situation, but you weren't just saying anything. "Of course not. Jungkook and I go way back, way before he became a professional swimmer. I used to go to all his practices, hung out with him after them, and even attended classes with him... just like you're in one right now!"

"Do you think... Do you think you can ask Jungkook hyung to come visit us? Maybe? If you're still friends with him..." He drifts, the thought of not being able to see his hero weighing down on his shoulders again. "I'll see what I can do," Standing from where you've been crouching, you ruffle Jaemin's hair with a soft sigh escaping your lips. "Now go play with the other kids. Remember, you can be whoever you want, and everyone else can be whoever they want as well."

Right before the clock hits 3:00PM, you verify that all the little kids are geared up in their beanies, puffer jackets, shoes, and some with gloves, in preparation for their parents' arrival. When the doors open and the children line up, leaving one by one, their nose and cheeks tint pink at the harsh winds, shivering yet at the same time cheering in glee when they see their guardians pull up. 

Watching the smiles on their faces reminds you of the time that you hated the winter; brisk air smacking your cheeks in pain, freezing your face in position, fingers stiff from being exposed to the outside, and constant shaking just to warm yourself up in a clownery large winter coat. Yet, this time around, you find yourself fond of the weather, the thought of being able to spend time with your loved ones approaching and activities that could only be done during this specific season. 

"Ready to head out?" One of your co-workers asks, just as bundled up as you are, learning your lesson after leaving without a jacket that wasn't thick enough before a day ago. "Yeah, I am. Let me just get my purse first, Naeun."

It's a constant cycle everyday: swipe your transit pass onto the bus, get off, walk an obscene amount of distance, if it's a good day then you'd stop for coffee, get to school, and prep for the day before calling the students in to take attendance, then that's when the teaching starts. 

But something about today feels great, despite the snow falling from the sky that nearly has you slipping on the ice from lack of attention to anything in front of you. So, you grab something hot. After all, what's better than a cup of hot chocolate in the morning right before you're stuck in a classroom full of twenty first-graders?

Following your medium sized peppermint hot chocolate (you're rather quite enamored that you're able to find a peppermint flavor because it's your favorite), hopping out of the coffee shop with glee, you're ready to be on route to work again.

Then someone obnoxiously honks their horn.

You show no regard to this, mostly because it makes no sense to. Someone who's driving a flashy neon yellow Porsche is already gaining all the unnecessary attention in the first place, and you're not really in the mood to be categorized within that population. 

But the beeping doesn't stop.

Oddly enough, it actually feels like the car is following you. Sweating profusely, you're debating whether or not to glance to see who the driver is. Just then, your phone dings.

jeon jungkook [6:57AM]: i've been trying to get you to turn around for the past 10 minutes, could you please stop walking faster? at this rate you're going to be a runner?

Instantaneously, you stop in the midst of your steps, sharply twisting on your heel to see the owner of the flamboyant vehicle. There he was, with the driver's side window rolled down, exposing those pearly white teeth of his, paired with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

Typical.

"Jeon Jungkook, fancy meeting you here."

"Not really fancy if I had to check your location services to see where you've been. It's not fun being ignored, love." He has his arm rested on the opening, watching as you purse your lips and bounce on the tips of your toes. "Mm, wonder why that is."

"Don't be like that," He frowns, chin sitting on his arm. "Come, I'll drive you to work. Maybe we can talk along the way."

"I'm not really in the mood to talk to you at seven in the morning, Jeon."

"Please?" He begs, pools of brown that match the liquid in your cup and the sweetness it entails. Just his voice alone was warm, shooting into your chest and you're trying to convince yourself that it's the drink, not him. "Fine." You respond through your gritted teeth, rounding the hood of the car to enter the passenger seat.

Jungkook looks so happy he could burst.

On the ride to work, you don't talk. He speaks casually, sharing stories about his adventures, ones that you don't really want to hear about or was it that his current attire that's causing your mind to get fuzzy? Baby blue dress shirt with just a couple of the buttons let loose, tucked into those dark grey slacks that hug his thighs so well, that you needed to avert your eyes or else he'd see you checking him out.

He does in fact, to the point that he needs to hide the smirk that dangles on his lips, but he refrains himself because getting you to forgive him is a difficult task alone, and teasing you wouldn't get him anywhere. 

"Pull up here," You demand when he's driving by the perimeter of the building. "You don't need to drive into the yard. I don't need the teachers thinking I'm hanging out with someone driving a construction safety yellow car."

Jungkook is admittingly disappointed, hoping that he gets more time with you but he did choose a work day to meet you. "Can I see you after this?" He's suddenly bashful after approaching you confidently earlier, no semblance of high school Jungkook hinted in his personality anymore. "I don't know. Maybe. We'll see." With that, you slip out the car, greeting the parents that you pass by, sharing that beaming smile that he was wishing was for him instead. You're prettiest when you're working—the way you're talking to your students as they begin to line up to enter class, tapping their noses with your drink in hand, drowning in your oversized coat. You seem at your happiest, suddenly regretting his recent absence from your life.

Reminiscing back to the time of when you didn't know what you wanted to do with your life, where you wanted to go, and who you wanted to be were questions that were constantly thrown up in the air. He recalls those nights where he'd hear your whimpers through the wall between the bedroom and the living room, sitting at the coffee table in frustration while he prepped for bed. Life had been a crazy journey for the both of you, especially when he had gotten invited to pursue in other work opportunities. 

You're thankful when you leave work that day and don't spot the rubber duck colored car anywhere near the schoolyard, yet at the same time, slightly despondent that he didn't return. "You look down," Naeun points out, nose peeking from her scarf with her hands dug deep into the pockets of her jacket. "Expecting someone?"

"Kind of, not really," You confess, letting out a heavy sigh with water vapor in the air. "But not surprised anyways."

"Does it have anything to do with a cheddar cheese looking car?"

Choking on your saliva, you attempt to clear your throat at her recognition. "How'd... you know it had to do with a yellow car?"

She leans over, gesturing in the direction behind you with her chin. "Other than the fact that it's hard to miss a car that bright in the morning, you coming out of it is also attention grabbing. Plus, he's over there, parked in the corner with a swarm of little kids around him."

Flinching, you look in her direction, the sight of Jungkook seated on the hood of his ridiculous vehicle, uncomfortably bending over to reach the height of the flock of little children with their parents, signing autographs and exchanging words with them.

You can't tell if it's cute or making your blood boil.

When you walk over to him with Naeun by your side, he looks up with that annoying smile on his face again. "Jeon Jungkook." 

"See, Jaemin? She does know me." Jungkook teases, messing up the little boy's hair. Jaemin has a look on his face that screams nothing but elation, spilling with happiness that couldn't be fulfilled until he met his idol, Jungkook, the Olympian swimmer. "You were right! He is your best friend!"

"I said was, but you get the point." Jungkook jerks up, quickly shuffling to dip his head in the window opening of his car, pulling out a drink, handing it to you. "Would someone who was your friend get you your favorite drink?"

In a medium Starbucks cup, there's an iced cold brew with cold foam sitting on top—a drink that you had grown attached and addicted to in your first year of University, ordering it so frequently on the daily that you had to wean yourself off it. "Cold brew," You clarify, taking the drink gleefully. "I guess you remembered."

Naeun extends her hand at Jungkook, requesting a shake. "Oh my god, Jeon Jungkook, I'm a big fan. I heard that you were recently sponsored by Nike—crazy! She—" She's referring to you with a glare "—never mentioned that she was friends with a professional swimmer!"

"Didn't think it was important," You add, swirling before taking a sip of the liquid gold. "Knowing someone who swam for your country's Olympic team isn't usually brought up in an everyday conversation."

She rolls her eyes as Jungkook gifts her a warm handshake, hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. He's dressed for comfort, this afternoon as opposed to this morning, and you're curious of his schedule yet you don't ask. "Kids, time to go home, don't leave your parents waiting." You dismiss the children who whine in reaction. "But we want to talk to Jungkook!"

"I'll be back tomorrow!" He confirms, and they run away in excitement, earning a groan from you. "Tomorrow? You're actually expecting to be back tomorrow?"

"Why? You don't want to see me?"

"Jungkook, why are you even back?" You exasperate, fingers running through your tangled locks. Jungkook is starting to frustrate you and all you want to do is go home and snuggle under the covers while watching a movie while possibly grading some papers. "What's the point of all this?"

He pouts, an arm snaking around your waist to pull your frame close. "I literally came to see my girlfriend and all she does is push me away. Isn't that crazy, Naeun? The girl of my dreams agreed to date me then she pretends that I don't even exist."

Jaw dropped, Naeun can't even formulate a sentence with the new information. "I know what you're going to say next, 'why didn't you—'"

"Why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend this entire time? Why didn't you even mention that it was Jungkook! You just faked the entire time that you weren't with someone while I was tricking you into going on dates—"

"You set her up with guys?" Jungkook's brows furrowed at Naeun before looking down at you. "You let her set you up with guys?"

"I didn't go to any of those dates she organized," You mention, bringing the drink to your lips again, truly the only thing that calms your nerves despite the chaos unfolding in front of you. "I vaguely said I wasn't interested."

"You could've just said that you had a boyfriend!"

"Well, you weren't around to prove it, so did it really matter?" Shrugging your shoulders, you escape from his grasp to drag the zipper of your jacket up higher. "Anyways, I'm out. Get home safe, Naeun, let me know how it goes with that mechanic guy tonight." Tugging up your sleeve for a better view of your watch, you nod. "My bus is coming soon—"

"—I'm literally standing right here and you're still going to take the bus?"

"I'm going to take this as my cue to leave..." Naeun chimes in, quickly waving goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Jungkook-ssi?" And he nods in return, watching as she walks away.

"I can't believe you would just waltz in here like you can do whatever you want." You hiss, nearly squeezing the cup in your hand but the cold brew inside is too valuable to let go to waste. "This is my workplace, not my house."

"I would go to your house if I knew where it was. You turned off your location yesterday."

"Maybe you shouldn't have outed yourself the first time, then you would've known." He moans, pushing his hair away from his face. The length has grown tremendously since the last time you saw him,  reaching his chin with the ends curling into the shapes of his eyes when he's gleaming with a grin. "Why are you making things so difficult for the both of us?"

"I'm not." You respond nonchalantly, blinking blankly at the man before you. 

Jungkook tugs on your arm. "Then let me take you home, to our home, really, since you decided that you wanted to move out without me here when the lease ended."

"I told you I didn't want to live where stalkers were standing outside my place."

"And I told you that you should call the bodyguard my company said they'd provide for you. Why didn't you call? Why didn't you tell me?"

Truthfully, you didn't want to go through the complications of the process of getting someone to consistently watch over you on a daily basis—it was easier to just up and leave, find somewhere else to reside instead of getting attacked by his fans. "It was too complex," allowing him to pull you in between his open legs as he rests on the hood of his car. "Plus, why would I want to ask help from a guy who wouldn't even come home for our anniversary? Easier to leave instead of being disappointed all the time."

The edges of his mouth drops. "Don't say it like that. I had to work, or else I would've taken the first flight back home. All the opportunities just so happen to be in the States."

"Go live there then, you don't need to come back. It's convenient for you to find a place there anyway."

"I'm not leaving you, idiot." He counters back, irritated that you're even making such suggestions. "I told you this every single time we meet again, every phone-call, every facetime. I won't move unless it's with you." The look in his eyes is hypnotizing mixed along with his words, swaying you into his direction unless you shake your head from the thoughts, stepping back. "Fine. Drive me home, whatever. Your stuff is still there anyways. I guess you still somewhat live with me."

Jungkook takes this as a victory.

In all honesty, he loves the idea of a domestic relationship. Jungkook loves having to wake up in the morning with you sleeping on the other side of the bed, corners of your eyes filled with dry boogers that'll probably hurt when you decide to get up, and brushing your teeth together, side by side, shoving each other just to be able to spit in the tiny little sink in the apartment. He argues that he could help pay for a better place, but you reject him regardless, wanting to stay in a more affordable place, one where you can go halfsies on.

He misses watching you hover over the stove, obnoxiously monitoring whatever it is you're cooking for dinner, only for him to call you out and take over instead. Or when you're doing work on the floor with your papers and laptop sprawled across the coffee table, leaning back when your shoulders get tired, resting in between his legs with your back against the body of the couch. 

So on the route of driving you home, that’s all he can think about as you sit in silence. 

This was definitely not the plan. 

Parked in the garage of your apartment complex, the fluorescent lights don’t do a good job of piercing through the tinted windows of Jungkook’s car, which you’re super thankful for despite the obnoxious primary color he chooses. The steam fills the glass, hand pressed against the armrest on the door as you’re panting heavily, an uneven match with Jungkook’s. He has a grip on both your ass and hips, guiding as you’re grinding yourself on him, wishing to be closer than you already were.

How he has you out of your jeans is unknown. Your jackets have already been throat into the some-what backseat, your dress shirt unbuttoned with your breasts spilling from your nude bra, and his shirt is hiked up just enough to catch a glimpse of his abs. Swimming requires him to keep his body in shape and there’s no complaint from you on that.

Mouth opened, he let out a groan, feeling your tightness around his cock that made a drop of sweat fall from his forehead. “Fuck,” He curses, the sight of you in front of him clenches his heart. Jungkook thinks you’re so pretty under this light— even prettier than when he knew you in high school, it’s like the longer he knows you, the more infatuated he is. When you gyrate your hips aggressively, he suddenly can’t take it anymore, hands trailing up your spine, pushing you down against his chest before he digs his feet into the carpeted floors, hips piston up into you. 

The new angle has your stomach in knots, a soft gasp falling from your lips that only encourages him to go harder. “Can you come like this?” 

“Touch me,” You respond, and it comes out nearly as a whine but you’re too busy being fogged up by pleasure to even care. “Jeon, please,” Begging at this point, he slips himself between the two of you, thumb rubbing against the bud as your grip on his shoulders clasp firms, lips against the flesh of his neck. 

“You’re going to come now, aren’t you?” 

The way he says it hints an arrogant smirk, one you’re bothered with but you’re in the middle of something currently. It’s rhetorical, to him, because your pussy is convulsing around his dick that he’s almost reaching his limit yet he waits for you patiently. “I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” He manages to say through a heave, your eyes tightly shut closed before you reach your orgasm; a melodic moan finally releasing into his ears that he’s been expecting all night, one that you’ve been holding back to showcase that you’re still mad at him. Jungkook couldn’t care— well, just right now, since he has his dick in you, thrusting away until he hits his own orgasm, ropes of cum coating your swollen pink walls.

You’ve grown limp against his body, nose snuggled into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy but slowed from previously. He misses having you like this, bare and close to him, skin feeling light from post-sex. “I love you,” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up?”

Nodding, you barely have the strength to push yourself off his body, but he doesn’t let go of the grip he has around your mid-frame anyways, sliding the back of the seat up to straighten yourselves. Leaning over to the glove compartment, he snatches a couple tissues before slipping his limp dick out of you, wiping away your mixed come. 

When he eventually has the both of you dressed, you lead him into the building, in the elevator and up to the floor of your apartment, cheeks still tinted rosy from the act in the car. Jungkook doesn’t mind it though, he thinks it’s cute that you’re embarrassed.

If this is what it’s going to be like forever— the warmth that you give, despite the words that come from your mouth, the affection and care that you distribute just for him, and the newfound confidence you’ve discovered during college that you’re not afraid of showing him... he wants it. Forever.

“Mm, so you’re telling me that you still fucked him even though you said that you were mad at him?” 

Yura is adorable with her little baker’s hat on, working endlessly in the kitchen of her new bakery that she decided to open in Seoul after graduating culinary school. Luckily for you, it’s close enough to your apartment that you found yourself stopping by to visit frequently, stealing the goods that don’t make it out to the display fridge.

“... Possibly. I don’t know. I couldn’t help it— I didn’t get dicked down in forever. And no, don’t talk about using the dildo you gave me last year, I haven’t even touched the thing.”

“What? Nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s meaty, girthy—“

“Oh my god, please don’t continue that sentence,” You wince, palm against your forehead. “It was good, alright? I mean, sure, I finished myself off when I’m alone but yesterday, in the car—”

“You hoe— you didn’t only give your vagina to him, but you gave it to him in the car? You couldn’t even wait, could you? And what now, is he living back at the apartment?”

“I mean... he said he didn’t get a hotel because he wanted to sleep in his own bed again...”

Yura laughs, clapping her hands in amusement as the powder hits her face. “You’re so funny, you know that? Why do you keep playing this charade when you could just... let him back in?”

You sigh, plopping your body down onto the stool by the counters, elbows against the floured tops. Truthfully, caving into all the mistakes Jungkook made was something too common from you, wishing that he wasn’t good with his words and affectionate whenever he’s around you. He missed an anniversary, a 6th year anniversary, and from what you read on the forums online, it’s one of those years where relationships start to get bumpy.

“I just— I don’t want to be easy, you know? I let him get away with everything, and it’s not fair that he’s all the way in the States, doing whatever it is he’s doing, while I’m here, watching twenty to thirty little kids everyday. And I can’t tell him to stop what he’s doing because well— it’s his dream, Yura, who am I to stop him?”

“You don’t,” She responds sharply, glaring at you through her floured lashes. “You should’ve gotten on a plane to the States. It’s your anniversary, as in both you and Jungkook. It’s not his designated job to come here when it’s an anniversary to celebrate the both of you.”

There she goes again, even 6 years later after high school, Yura exhibits the realities of a situation, especially the ones that you’re in. 

“I guess...” You say faintly, slowly reaching your surrender. 

“No guessing. Please leave and go look for him. Tell him that you’re sorry, that you’re not going to be a big baby anymore. You’ve been with him for six years, and no matter how mad you get at him, he’s always coming back for more and attempting to make it up to you. Also, it’s 6:30AM... shouldn’t you already be on your way to work?”

“Oh, right, fuck, okay, thanks, Yura!” Jolting out of the bakery, you’re practically running to the school when you halt in your route at the sight of the familiar neon yellow car that’s parked on the school yard, yet again.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I’m on South Korea’s Men’s Swim Team. I’m training for 800M Freestyle Swim again, and possibly, maybe, planning to retire soon.”

Retire? The word that slips from Jungkook’s mouth is unfamiliar, mostly because he had never discussed this with you before, causing you to furrow your brows in perplexity at him as he stands in front of the black chalkboard in your classroom full of children. 

“I actually lived next door to your lovely teacher here, and we grew up together. She even coached me early in my years since I didn’t have anyone with credentials to show me. We both used to stare at the computer, day and night, renting videos from the library, and spending most of our time together just so that we could improve on my skills...” As Jungkook babbles on to the students, Naeun nudges you in the stomach.

“What?” You hiss in a whisper. Softly, she responds, “You never told me any of this! I thought we were friends! You’ve been hiding from me that you’re dating an Olympian and that you guys knew each other since you were little? What else haven’t you told me?”

“Mm,” You hum, arms crossed over your chest. “I got recruited to shadow coaches back in the university Jungkook and I attended. I rejected their offer and went undecided before coming to terms that I’d teach.”

Naeun is taken aback by all this information, stumbling back to the edge of your desk to regain her balance. “You were recruited to coach? And you rejected that offer? Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because swimming is Jungkook’s dream, not mine.”

During college, evidently enough, you had been struggling endlessly trying to figure out what you wanted to do with yourself. There were moments where you considered taking a gap year— a break from it all, go somewhere maybe to finally understand yourself and what you want to do. Jungkook’s eyes when you mentioned it to him grew wary, sad that he couldn’t be there to help you but just stare at your helpless expression through the screen of his phone. 

One thing you knew for sure, you didn’t want Jungkook to pity you. (Although, he never did. He was just too in love and couldn’t see the girl of his dreams sad.)

So you pushed harder. Met with people, asked about their experiences, requested for a mentor, and just researched. It was exactly like the time Jungkook told you he wanted to swim, so you obsessively tried to find any information on it so that you could teach him and show him things he could do in the water.

You learned that if you wanted something bad enough, you grew a drive for it.

It might’ve been when Jungkook realized that you were great at coaching. When he tried to sway you into coaching people because you were great and motivating people to do better, to try harder, and all of this without overworking them to the point of turning into dust. Despite everything, you didn’t want to coach swimming— and soon learning, you didn’t want to coach any sport. But the closest thing to it was teaching.

And a teacher was what you became.

There was already enough experience in teaching someone, or in this case, tutoring, because Jungkook sucked at it back in grade school. He always needed help, and that’s where you swooped in. Arms filled with notebooks, backpack dragging you full with textbooks while you stood at Jungkook’s front porch, ready to confuse him with letters and numbers that he learned he didn’t even need now.

“Did you know he was thinking about retirement?” Naeun sneaks in again. You shake your head, watching your boyfriend answer questions from the crowd. “No, I didn’t. He’s never even mentioned that word to me, ever.”

Just as Jungkook finishes, you holler out for the class to settle down, pushing him aside as he bumps back into the wall with a grin on his face. “Ok, class, since it’s 5 minutes before recess, I’m just going to let you guys go off. It is a Friday, so enjoy yourselves!”

Jungkook joins in when you’re zipping up the jackets and tying the shoes of the kids; they’re all too excited for an extra five minutes of recess time, saying something along the lines of, “we should ask hyung to come more often, he makes her happy enough to give us five extra minutes!” and Jungkook stifles a laugh.

Standing against the brick masonry of the building, Jungkook accompanies you. “You’re going to ask me about the whole retirement thing, aren’t you?”

“Was. But you didn’t seem like you cared enough to bring it up to me.”

He sighs, adjusting the beanie on his head. “I didn’t decide until yesterday. I’m going to be in the next Olympics then I’m retiring. I’ve made enough money from the sponsorships and I’m sure I’ll be able to keep my affiliation with Nike ‘til past that.”

Glancing over at him before looking back at the children playing in the yard, you snuggle your nose deeper into your scarf. “Why’s that? Isn’t swimming your dream?”

“It is,” He says, voice genuine and filled with honesty. “I might do some things here and there, maybe train some kid with potential. I just... I don’t know how much longer I can do this thing between us. I’m never going to give up on swimming, and there’s so many opportunities out there for me to do that includes it. But this whole... training for the Olympics thing— I’ve done it already. It’s great, I’ll do another year of it. But by the time the second time I enter, we’ll be hitting that age where it’s time to settle down.”

“We don’t need to have a set time to settle down—“

“I know that we don’t but I’m tired of this whole long distance thing. You’ve been so supportive of my dreams, and I’ve accomplished them already. It’s time that I’m here, by your side, supporting yours.”

There’s silence between the two of you, despite the constant screaming and laughing that’s coming from the playground. 

“I’m sorry,” You blurt and he only looks at you with bewilderment on his face. “I should’ve came to visit you on our anniversary instead of expecting you to come here. It was selfish of me.”

Jungkook laughs, beaming brightly with the sweetest smile upon his lips. “You used to be so timid and shy back in high school. You’ve developed into this woman who’s confident and fierce, sometimes scaring me because I never thought you could ever be like this.”

“Does it make you like me any less?”

“No,” He turns to you, tightening the scarf around your neck in prevention of slipping. “But... it makes me love you more. You’re also admitting things and apologizing. Very huge character development if you asked me. Say, how about we go home tonight and celebrate our anniversary, to make up for the one we miscommunicated about?”

“I’d... like that, very much.” You respond, chewing on your bottom lip bashfully. 

“Now,” He begins, pinching your frozen cheeks gently. “I told you I love you about... a million times since I came back. I’m still waiting for you to say it too.”

He’s still somewhat the same Jungkook from back then, hidden underneath the blanket of adulthood and experiences through college but nonetheless, just as much as he changed, you’ve loved him through every stage he’s gone through. He felt the same. “Love you too, Jeon.” And there it was, the smile that tugs on the edges of your lips that he’s been waiting for, dedicated just for him.

[bokutosworld]

home | bokuto koutarou

a bokuto x reader one shot loosely inspired by taylor swift's cornelia street.

wc: 2.7k words 

--

"ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into japan, approaching narita international airport. the local time is 4:15 pm, with temperature of 19 degrees celsius. in preparation for the landing, please make sure your seat is straight up and your seat belt is safely fastened. in behalf of my co-pilot and today's crew, we hope you enjoyed your flight with us and wish you a pleasant time in japan. thank you."

the sudden announcement sounding over the whole cabin woke her up from her slumber. she stirs and adjusts her seat just as the captain ordered. sitting near the window, she saw the buildings of the tokyo skyline coming into view. it's been years, she wondered.

as the plane continues its descent, she checks her documents: passport, immigration form, health papers. she pulls out her phone and goes over her schedule for her first night in tokyo. she shakes her head in disbelief, still wondering why she agreed to return in the city.

'come on, y/n! it's been five whole years. we miss you,' her friend said. 'besides, it's our first high school reunion! we haven't seen the rest of the batch in like forever.'

and just as she was recalling that conversation with her friend, the plane began taxiing on the ground and was pulling up on one of the arrival gates.

finally, the aircraft stopped moving and the captain's voice was heard on the speakers again, "ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived. please remain seated until the seatbelt sign has been turned off and wait for the cue of the crew. please be careful in deplaning and we hope you enjoy your stay in japan."

in a few seconds, the ding! of the seatbelt sign was heard and people hurriedly stood up, opened the compartments and took their bags. not one for rushing things and going with the crowd, she took her time in leaving the plane.

narita international airport was a busy place, with tourists going in and out and citizens returning home. lucky for her, she still had her residence card and was able to queue in the shorter line in immigration. as soon as she entered the baggage claim area, she spotted her hot pink luggage, decorated with stickers of all the places she's been to. she picked it up and headed to the taxi stands.

time check: 6:05 pm

'asakusa central hotel, please,' she directed to the friendly man in the driver seat. he nodded and sped off the airport. tired from her flight, she leaned back and closed her eyes. the journey downtown would take at least an hour and she debated on whether she was going to nap. deciding against getting a few more minutes of rest, she took her phone and decided send her friend a message.

y/n: i'm here, loser. on my way to the hotel. i'm still pissed you couldn't have just picked me up :/ friend: U'RE BACK!!!!!!!! <3 i'm so sorry, i got held up at work. but let me make it up to you! i'll buy you some welcome home drinks later? :D

she smiled at her friend's reply. how could she forget that she loved drinking out. back in college, they would be spending weeknights going bar hopping. looking back, she recalled how some of her best years and moments were created here. it was in this city where she met the love of her life.

time check: 7:15 pm

the taxi parks in front of her hotel and a bellboy immediately runs over to the car door to assist her. she pays and thanks the kind driver for a safe trip and with a smile, she hops off the taxi.

the bellboy takes care of her luggage, while she makes her way to the receptionist. for a weekday, the hotel was packed with tourists. maybe it was a holiday in some part of the world, she thought. looking around mindlessly, she examined the hotel that her friend had booked for her. two brown lounge sofas were the centerpiece of the lobby. to the side, there were some coffee tables and chairs were people could sit while they wait to be serviced.

she continues to scan the room, her eyes almost missing the boy she thinks she knows. if it weren't for his eye-catching dual-toned hair and his loud and bright laugh that resonated in the floor, she wouldn't have paid attention to him. but as soon as she heard that familiar sound, she turned to the doors and caught a glimpse of him. there was no mistake, with the way her heart skipped a beat and the world seemed to blur around her. bokuto koutarou.

she was pulled out of her trance by the friendly receptionist beckoning her to come to the desk. she gives her the reservation details and a copy of her passport, and in just a few minutes she receives a key to her room. thanking the receptionist, she goes to retriever her luggage and insists that she can take it on her own and gave the boy some tip for helping her a while ago from the taxi.

she proceeds to the 16th floor where her room was situated. she taps the keycard on the lock, and the door opens, revealing a large, spacious room with a king sized bed and notes how it was too big for her alone. however, what took her breath away, was the big window with a view overlooking the city. she takes in the scene and gets lost in her thoughts, going back to the few minutes earlier when she saw him. he hasn't changed one bit, she muses. he still brightens every room he walks in to.

with that thought, she settled on the bed and brought out her phone. she hovered over the facebook app, wondering if stalking her first love would be appropriate right now.

it's not as if she and bokuto ended on bad terms. they both agreed it was a mutual decision. something that was brought up by their different dreams and goals. she wanted to pursue law, he wanted a professional career in volleyball. and as supportive as they are of each other, they went on their separate paths and wished each other the best. for a while, they kept contact but as they got busy, the texts and calls got less and eventually stopped. throughout the past years, she'd been wondering if separating was the right thing.

just as she was about to visit his profile, her best friend called.

friend: hey guess what y/n: what friend: oh come on, you could at least be a little excited! i'm done with work and heading over to shinjuku right now! y/n: i thought we were getting drinks friend: we are!!! but some of our batchmates are around the area and they invited me for drinks and you're coming with me

time check: 9:08 pm

there was no point, honestly, in trying to resist her friend. that's why she was now being dragged along the street, with her friend talking her ear off about how she missed her and how she can't wait to spend the week with her.

they entered one of the bars in the area and immediately, her outgoing friend waved to the group sitting in the corner of the place. as soon as she spotted them, she couldn't move and it was like her feet were rooted to the ground. the moment her eyes locked with his, it was like she was in high school again and she was overwhelmed by the urge to run to him and hug him.

'Y/N!!!!!!!!!!', her high school friends screamed and suddenly, they were running to her and tackled her with a hug. 'we missed you!'

she laughed and returned their embrace because, yes, she missed them too. they dragged her to the booth and she took the seat right across him.

oblivious to her, bokuto has not once turned his attention away from her. he was a busy man and no one was expecting him to be present in this reunion. but a part of him wanted to go, he was hoping that maybe she would be going. so he couldn't believe his eyes when the door to the bar opened and he saw the face of the girl he has loved since forever.

'hey bokuto, why are you so unusually quiet,' one of their friends quipped and the whole group laughed. any other day, he would have retorted with a witty comeback but right now, in this moment, he was too absorbed taking in the sight of his great love being in front of him. no one else but her got him flustered and tongue-tied, so it was no surprise when he broke his silence with, 'you look good, y/n.'

she blushed and her brain almost short-circuited trying to think of a reply. god, she thought she was lame for feeling like a high schooler again. thankfully, she was able to mutter a thank you and the both of them exchanged knowing smiles before socializing with the group.

time check: 10:49 pm

the rest of the night was spent catching up with each other and reminiscing on their good high school days. it was crazy to think how much they all have grown in a span of years. two of their batchmates were getting married, another was currently pregnant with her first child and three of them were opening their own businesses in the city. they were all successful and their teachers would be so proud of them right now.

of course, they didn't miss the opportunity to congratulate bokuto on his recent win in the volleyball league. he thanks them and goes on a funny story about the game and his teammates. she remembers the news she has heard about him, msby black jackals was his team now. and it warms her heart seeing how happy he currently is and sharing about his accomplished career. looks like we did the right choice, she thought.

suddenly, one of the boys in the group speaks up and remarks about how everyone thought that she and bokuto would be end game. and the booth was enveloped with silence. no one dared to break the silence and she looked at everywhere but him. until bokuto laughed and caught her attention when he said, 'well! we're here now, we could still continue our story you know. you never know what can happen!'

indeed, no one could predict what the future holds. and it was like fate was working in their favor because of course, her friend just decided to be so drunk that she had to be taken home by one of the girls that lives near her. which was how she found herself walking back to the hotel with bokuto by her side.

'i guess it's pretty convenient that we are both staying at the same hotel huh,' bokuto said. they were walking in the streets, the cars zooming on the road and the lights guiding their journey back to where they were staying.

she can't help but smile as she nodded at his statement. she wondered why she was staying at a hotel when he was a tokyo resident and for sure had an apartment in this city. he sighed dramatically and said that his apartment was currently undergoing a renovation and no one, not his teammates or even his parents, offered to let him stay as he was out of his apartment. 'yeah, so that left me with no choice but to stay at that hotel. and lucky for me, because you're also staying there! who could've known,' he exclaimed.

wanting to spend some more time together, bokuto suggested that they take a detour to the park. she instantly knew what park he was referring to and let him take the lead.

a few more minutes of walking and they arrived at the park on the hill. it was a place that they frequented: a place that witnessed their love blossoming and unfortunately, it was also the same place where they said their bittersweet goodbyes. they went closer to the mini observatory which offered a great view of the city lights, with the tokyo skytree illumination standing out above them all.

she didn't notice she was shaking from the cold until bokuto draped his jacket on her shoulders. she muttered a thank you and bumped his shoulder with hers. a comfortable silence fell upon them - one that they have been used to whenever they would spend the afternoons on their shared apartment when they were in college. for an outgoing guy, bokuto admits that he didn't mind the silence as long as it were with her. but for now, the silence was so loud that he wanted to say something before he lost his mind.

'i missed you,' the both of them spoke at the same time. they looked at each other, wide-eyed, and laughed. and as if they didn't break up with each other, bokuto extended his arms and brought her to his arms. he wanted this moment to last longer.

she let herself fall into his embrace because, if she were to be honest, she's also been missing his touches. no one else could bring peace to her mind and calm her soul than bokuto. they stayed like that, embracing and swaying to the breeze of the autumn chill, for minutes.

'where are you going after this,' he finally inquired. she knew that he didn't mean right at this instant. he meant after this reunion week. he wanted to know her plans, her future, and if there were any space for him in her life.

she looked up at him, getting lost in his beautiful eyes and she knew. she's spent her years running around, with the thought of him back in her mind. what ifs filled her daily thoughts and she wondered how things would be different if she had just stayed. but now, she knows better. it was a risk, but it was one that she was willing to take. her parents would call her foolish for what she was about to do, but she figured she could always take a fresh start in japan. besides, it was something that she has been thinking of and now that bokuto asked her, the timing couldn't have been more perfect.

'i'm thinking i could help you once apartment renovations are over. do you have another room? maybe i can stay with you and -' before she could finish her sentence, bokuto lifted her up in a bone-crushing hug and spun around. she giggled and begged him to stop before she got dizzy.

'wait, are you serious right now? what about your job,' he asked, worried that she was doing this for his sake.

'well, i haven't actually told anyone yet but i've actually sent in my resignation notice two weeks ago. they gave me this week off to take a break and once i return there, i'll just pack up my stuff.'

'so, you're actually planning on returning home? here?'

'yes, bokuto. this is home. you are my home.'

there was always something unspoken between them. even in the years that they spent apart, the both of them were waiting and yearning for each other. the both of them believed that their hearts were connected and that they were each other's destiny. now here was the chance they were waiting for, a chance to continue where they left off and spend the rest of their days together.

time check: 12:15 am

And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name

tokyo, a city filled with memories of him. when she left years ago, she vowed to never look back. she never would have thought that something good would come out of returning here.

And baby, I'm so terrified of if you ever walk away

but now, wrapped in his arms, she thinks that flying back is her life's greatest decision. 'you don't know how happy this makes me,' he hugged her tightly and she wrapped his arms around him. 'i love you, koutarou.'

I don't wanna lose you, hope it never ends

they definitely weren't going to let each other go this time.

[unholyobsessions]

Seeking Comfort

Pairing: Anderson x GenderNeutral!Reader

Description: You take care of Anderson after Elle gets shot

Warnings: Cussing, Mentions of shooting

Word Count:  1.7k

You walk over to your desk, absolutely exhausted after today’s case. Tears sting your eyes as you think about what happened today. It feels as if everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong and there was nothing anyone on the team could do to fix it. You let your eyes wander to Elle’s desk and you quickly blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill out. You had to keep a clear head, no emotions, you had paperwork to finish. With tired eyes and and a labored breath, you picked up a file and a pen, prepared to start your report. You got about halfway before you had to take a break, the sound of the explosion and the look of the girl’s face when she thought she wouldn’t make it not allowing you to concentrate. You give up with an annoyed huff, angrily closing the folder, and spin your chair around to look at Grant. 

He looks awful. His eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot from crying and his face is evidently puffier than usual. You frown and try to get his attention but he is too focused on the file in front of him, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. You debate whether you should go up and talk to him, but according to everyone at the BAU, you and him are nothing more than co-workers and occasional acquaintances. You spot his phone on the other side of his desk so emailing him is out of the question. And you can’t email him to his computer because the FBI monitors all emails. You stay deep in thought before an idea pops into your head. You spin back around to face your desk and peel off a baby blue post it from the pile next to your computer. You quickly write a small note, adding a smiley face at the end for good measure. You paste it inside a random file on your desk. You pack up all your stuff, pick up your bag, and stand up. You confidently make your way across the bullpen, masking any emotion and stop in front of Grant’s desk. “Anderson, Hotch wants you to take this to Agent Morrison downstairs after you review it,” you inform, interrupting his staring contest with the paperwork in front of him. He doesn’t speak, simply nods and takes the file, opening it with a sigh. He has to stop himself from smiling when he spots your note, recognizing the ink of your favorite purple pen. Meet me in the elevator I love you :) He looks up to see you already walking toward the doors of the BAU. He scrambles to get his stuff together, sticking the file in his bag in a haste, not wanting anyone to pick it up and see your note. He calmly walks out of the bullpen and toward the elevator. You peak at him through your peripheral and click the button for the elevator. You pray no one shows up wanting to hitch a ride and thankfully no one does. As soon as the doors close in front of you, you reach for his hand, giving it a light squeeze. The sniffle you hear him breaks your heart and you want nothing more than to gather him up in your arms and hold him close. But you can’t, not yet anyway. The doors eventually open in the lobby and you reluctantly let go of his hand. Both of you walk somewhat separately out of the building, so to anyone that sees, you are just two co-workers that happened to leave the office at the same time. You know for certain that he does not want to drive his car at the moment so you wordlessly guide him to yours. You open the passenger door and, when he gives no protest, proceed to buckle him in. You walk to the drivers side, get in, and start the car. Throughout the whole drive to your apartment you keep stealing glances at him, wanting to make sure that he is okay at all times. About twenty minutes later you pull up to your apartment complex. You quickly unbuckle your seatbelt and rush out of the car to open Grant’s door. He leans his head against your arm as you unbuckle his seatbelt. “Come on baby let’s go upstairs. I’ll make some hot chocolate and we can watch a shitty cable movie.” You run a hand through his hair and feel his head move in a tired nod. You gently usher him out of the vehicle and grab his hand. You push the door closed with the heel of your foot and press the button on your keys to set the car alarm. You walk up the stairs in a comfortable silence, Grant taking comfort in the feel of his fingers laced with yours. A tiny pout adorns his face when you have to pull away to unlock your door so you lean against his chest to provide him some physical contact. His arms instantly wrap around your waist like muscle memory and his face gets buried in your neck. You walk foward and push the door closed behind you. The door closing breaks the dam; as soon as you hear the click, you feel Grant’s tears against your neck. You turn around in his arms and cradle his head against you. You place a small kiss to his hair and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. “You want to talk about it baby?” You ask cautiously, not wanting to upset him even more. “Not yet. Cocoa,” he manages to choke out. You smile slightly and begin pulling him toward the kitchen. You have to separate yourself from him to gather what you need and, although reluctantly, Grant lets you go. He hops on the counter and watches you move swiftly around the kitchen, pulling a pot out of the cupboard and the milk out of the fridge. You turn the stove and measure two cups of milk before pouring it in the pot. As you wait for the milk to heat up, you walk over to your boyfriend and stand between his legs. His head is hanging down, chin against his chest, so you place two fingers on his jaw and lightly push upward. You press a small kiss on his pouty lips and smile. You wipe away a few stray tears, kissing each of his cheeks. A few minutes go by, and you go to place the bars of chocolate in the pot. You mix for about ten minutes before you decide that it is ready. You grab your favorite mugs and carefully pour the hot liquid in them. You grab the bag of tiny marshmallows and place a good amount on each mug. You hand Grant his and then make your way to the couch. You grab the remote, turning the TV on but placing it on mute. You sit in silence for a few minutes, both enjoying the warm drink and then Grant decides to speak up. “I’m sorry.” You halt your movements, the mug you were raising to your lips suddenly forgotten. “Sorry for what my love?” “For getting Elle shot.” Silent tears are streaming down his face and you have a feeling that his cries won’t stay silent for long. You place your mug down on the coffee table and turn your body to him. “You did not get Elle shot. What happened was not your fault.” You try to make sure your voice sound assertive because you need him to understand. His shoulder shake as he responds, “Yes it was. If I had just obeyed Hotch’s orders properly then it would not have happened.” You pull him into your arms as sobs rack his body, holding his head against your chest. You can hear his gasps for breath in between sobs, so you run your fingers through his hair, doing your best to calm him down.  “It was not your fault. Hotch was not clear on his orders. He told you to take her home, which is what you did. He did not tell you to stay with her,” you argue. He looks up at you and you have to hold back your own tears because his usually adorable puppy eyes hold so much guilt and sadness in them. Don’t cry, you thought, you’ll only make it worst. “If you are going to blame anyone blame Hotch for not giving orders properly, blame Gideon because he is the one who called the press conference, knowing it would piss the unsub off, blame the unsub for kidnapping his daughter and sending us on a psychotic scavenger hunt, but do not blame yourself.” 

He shakes his head and struggles to hold enough breath to speak. “I’m going to get suspended.” You blink away your tears because of course he is worried about keeping his job. 

“Don’t think about that baby, not right now. You won’t get suspended, you have no reason to be,” you assure him. He looks at you and gives the tiniest of nods before cuddling up against you again. His hands clutch your shirt, afraid that if he lets go, you’ll leave. He’s told you before, how worried he gets when you go on a case, afraid of you getting hurt and Elle getting shot just cemented that fear. 

You both finish your hot chocolate and you suggest you both take a shower. You pull him to the bathroom and turn the shower on. You start undressing Grant as you wait for the water to warm up. Once it’s warm enough he gets in and you quickly undress and follow after him. You gently massage the shampoo into his hair and clean the rest his body, mumbling how much you love him all the time. You quickly clean yourself off before turning off the shower. You wrap a towel around yourself and help Grant dry off. You both slip into your pjs and head to your bed. He cuddles up to you and whispers a small “Thank you y/n. I love you so much.” You smile at him and whisper back, “I love you too Grant.” You both drift off to sleep, content and safe in each other’s embrace.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Advent Drabble 2020 - “Take One” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Embroiled in the aftermath of two very messy break-ups, Kurt and Blaine are preparing to film their first love scene together. But how do you pretend to be in love when your love life is falling apart?

It probably doesn't hurt to be in love with your co-star then. (1982 words)

Notes: Written for the @klaineadvent Drabble Challenge 2020 prompt 'grey'.

Read on AO3.

“Ooo, I get a limo this time,” Kurt mumbles, not nearly as impressed as he’s pretending to be. But he needs to keep up appearances. Even though it’s the literal buttcrack of dawn, he’s not alone. There are about thirty asshats, armed with cameras, camped out on his doorstep, climbing over each other to snap a candid of him for the gossip sites. A photo of him emerging from his townhouse fresh-faced and ready for another day on set will fetch an easy couple hundred.

But if he looks like he rolled out of bed, drank a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, then fell down a flight of stairs, landing face-first onto a mountain of cocaine - those pictures would fetch considerably more.

That’s what he gets for going through a horrendous break-up while having the nerve to be rich and famous.

Despite how he feels about his life at this moment, he went for the former, not the latter. He would never touch hard drugs, not for any reason, and he can't justify looking less than his best. 

Like a good friend once told him - never let them see you sweat.

“Kurt! Kurt Hummel! Over here!” the pariahs start calling, some of them whistling for his attention like he’s a dog. “Hummel! Hey, Hummel!”

Hummel.

That’s the one that gets him, burrows into the roots of his teeth and makes his whole head pulsate. It keeps his feet moving when he might have stopped to exchange a polite hello. Who talks to people like that? When did it become acceptable to bellow out someone’s last name as a means of getting their attention? Is it too much to ask for the respect of at least shoving a ‘Mr.’ in front of it? Have these glorified stalkers forgotten that if it weren’t for him and stars like him the only jobs they could get would be snapping photos of families for minimum wage at Six Flags?

Ugh. 

Too much thinking too early in the morning.

He could write an essay on how much he loathes pap culture, but today, Kurt can’t be bothered caring.

He slaps on a smile and waves, sliding his glasses down his nose only far enough so they can’t see how red his eyes are from crying.

“Oh, hello! I didn’t see you all here! It’s so nice of you to greet me at 5:30 on this fine winter morning! Oh, careful there. You spilled your coffee. And I think you just kicked that poor young man in the face.”

Kurt greets his guests this way every morning, killing them with kindness, as subtle an eff you as he can come up with when his brain cells have yet to kick in for the day.

Coffee. He needs coffee. About a gallon-and-a-half of it.

Kurt glides through the crowd, an angelfish among sharks, and comes out unscathed.

A man with dark hair and olive skin, wearing a fitted, black uniform tailored to within an inch of its life, opens the car door for Kurt as he approaches.

"Good morning, Mr. Hummel."

“Good morning, Harold. It's nice to see you.” Kurt slides into the car, thankful when the chauffeur shuts the door. He sinks into the leather seat and tosses his sunglasses aside. “God!" he moans, burying his face in his hands. "I don't want to do this! I want to stay home and eat ice cream! I don’t want to kiss anyone today!”

Blaine, who had been waiting quietly and wearing a sympathetic smile, frowns. “Gee. Thanks.”

Kurt's head snaps up, his face splotchy and red in seconds. “Blaine! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were …! That’s not what I meant!" He takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly. "It's not you. I just don’t feel particularly romantic today.”

“It’s okay. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

Kurt squares Blaine with a stern look. “Gee. Thanks.”

Blaine ducks his eyes, his cheeks turning pink as he pours Kurt a glass of champagne. There’s always champagne, no matter what vehicle the studio sends to pick them up. But Kurt and Blaine never avail themselves to it.

Today, however, Kurt thinks as he accepts the flute Blaine offers and takes a sip, is an exception.

“I didn’t know Harold was picking you up first,” Kurt says, starting small talk to ease the tension. Kurt and Blaine don’t usually have trouble making small talk.

But, again, today is an exception.

“Well ...” Blaine clears his throat, seems embarrassed “... I was just … you know … a few blocks down the way.”

Kurt sits up further, leans forward with interest. “So you did it. You moved out.”

“Yup,” Blaine replies quietly. “I couldn’t … I just couldn’t stay. Not after …” He stops and sniffles, turning his head to hide eyes that must be as red as Kurt’s. Kurt doesn’t know.

He only ever notices how striking they are.

Kurt rests a comforting hand on Blaine’s knee. “I know.” 

“Yeah,” Blaine says with a slightly bitter laugh. “So does the whole world. In fact, the photogs knew I was leaving before I knew. You should have seen it. I could barely get past them.”

Kurt pulls a box of tissues out of the side panel and offers one to Blaine. “They’re bottom feeders. Try to ignore them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Kurt repeats, feeling exceptionally useless. He’s in the exact same boat, but his heart hurts more for Blaine.

Blaine doesn’t deserve what he's going through. He doesn’t deserve such a public break-up.

He doesn’t deserve having his name drug all over social media by an emotionally manipulative bastard.

Kurt gazes out the window at the sky above. The forecast said it would be clear and sunny today, but it’s cloudy and grey. It matches Kurt's mood. Everything is cloudy and grey.

Well, maybe not everything.

The champagne isn’t. It’s cool and refreshing, and the bubbles make his tongue tingle.

That helps.

And Blaine helps, too.

Even gloomy, melancholy Blaine helps.

Just being in Blaine's presence helps.

“Living in the public eye isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, huh?” Blaine asks, though it sounds as much like a statement to himself as a question for Kurt.

“Not on days like today. But that’s the trade-off for being a star, I guess.” 

“Would you ever give it up?” Blaine takes a sip so slight it doesn’t lower the level of the liquid in his glass.

“I can’t say I would. You?”

“Nah. Acting has given me so many opportunities I could never have dreamed of. And all the great people I've met? I mean, this is what? The fifth film we’ve starred in together?”

“It is." 

Blaine chuckles, shakes his head. "Some of them have been real winners."

"I know! The roles you get offered when you're just starting out are criminal! Let’s see, we’ve been rogue enemy agents from different factions …”

“High school frenemies …”

“Alien co-conspirators …”

“Jealous rivals …”

“And now … lovers.”

“Yes,” Blaine says bashfully. “And today …”

Kurt smiles. “We get together for the first time.”

Hearing Kurt say it makes Blaine’s heart race, his pulse thrumming so fast it disappears.

The day Blaine found out he’d gotten the role of Kurt’s love interest and not the ‘jealous ex’ (the role his agent originally pitched him for since they play adversaries so well) was a dream come true. The studio felt the two of them could take their insane sexual tension (the studio's words, not Blaine's, although he doesn't disagree) and use it to fuel the plot of their latest 'friends-to-lovers' rom-com.

Blaine has always wanted to be a leading man. Deep down, he prayed that his first time, he'd play opposite Kurt. Now that it has finally happened, the role of his dreams comes with the greatest perk in the universe - an intimate moment with Kurt.

In front of about three dozen crew members, but still. 

It's Blaine's chance to indulge his crush, which he plans to savor since it may not come around again. 

Not in the way Blaine wants.

As friendly as Kurt is to him, as flirty as he can be, Blaine doesn't know for sure whether Kurt shares his feelings.

“If you don't mind my asking, when did he tell you?” Blaine asks.

“He didn’t." Kurt snorts humorlessly. "I woke up, and he was gone. I thought he had left for work. He had a table reading at six that morning, so I wasn’t immediately suspicious. Not until I started noticing important things were missing - clothes, toiletries, his contact lenses, his laptop …” 

"Did he tell you why he was leaving?"

Kurt chews his lower lip at the question he'd known was coming ... the answer he's debating whether or not to give. "Eventually." He glances up at Blaine, flashes a sly grin, and decides to go for broke. “He left because he thought I was falling in love with my co-star.”

"Really?" And just like that, Blaine Anderson dies, his heart shrinking into nothing and blowing away on the wind. "W-which one?" he asks, solely for conversation's sake.

This time, when Kurt snorts, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep from spraying champagne all over the interior of the limo, it's genuine. "You, you gumball!"

"Oh. Oh!" Blaine’s expression of shock is so endearing, Kurt can’t look at it too long. There's a glow about him. It's like staring into the sun. “That's ... that’s funny. My ex broke up with me for the same reason. Because of ... you. At least, that's the excuse he gave on Twitter ... and Instagram ... and Facebook. There were other things. Other men, too.” Blaine's glow dims as he talks about his ex. Their relationship, and separation, weren’t as civil as Kurt’s. In reality, trouble had been brewing behind the scenes for a while. 

He’s glad they finally went their separate ways. 

But it stings just the same, finding out that someone you once loved, who you thought loved you back, was using you for clout. 

And in that, Blaine's ex was a better actor than Blaine ever was.

"That is funny. Not funny ha-ha. Just ... funny. Who would have thunk?" Kurt goes back to his glass of champagne, keeping an eye on Blaine above the rim.

Blaine glances out the window as the limo slows, approaching the gates to the studio lot. Kurt doesn't follow Blaine's gaze, but he doesn't need to. 

He knows what Blaine sees by the way his face falls.

Blaine had hoped they could slip in quietly, but there's already a mob three feet deep waiting for them. The photographers and fans won't be able to see a thing through the car's windows. The tint on them is darker than dark. Still, the whole lot will be on high alert with them here. 

Inevitably, a handful will slip in. 

They may even find their way on set.

Blaine doesn't have the energy to deal with that.

Not today.

“How are we going to get through it?" Blaine asks. "Filming this scene? I mean, the timing is ... uncanny, to say the least.”

“Think of it this way …” Kurt slides across to Blaine’s side, sits as close as they're both comfortable with. Crooking a finger beneath his chin, Kurt draws Blaine's attention away from the gathering crowd and over to his eyes instead “… we get to spend the entire afternoon making each other feel better. That's how we're going to get through this. Agreed?”

Blaine's eyes lower, flicker to Kurt's lips unintentionally. When they travel back up, he notices Kurt's eyes do the same. He swallows hard. At this distance from Kurt, from his mouth, Blaine only has the wherewithal to say one word. He makes it count. "Agreed."

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Chapter 1 // read on AO3 // @today-in-fic

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

CHAPTER 2

U Street NW  3rd District  11:00am

I tried to tell myself I was rested, but that was a lie. Insomnia is a bitch and she makes a hell of a bedfellow. I couldn’t be bothered with the percolator in my apartment, though day old coffee hadn’t stopped me before. I didn't bother shaving, instead deciding to give my five o’clock shadow an extra half hour. My dress shirt lightly concealed the white bandage on my shoulder and I found a set of grey pants and matching suit jacket. I remembered my raw brimmed fedora and locked the door behind me. I debated whether or not to take the car but I didn’t want to deal with public transit this afternoon. The starter on the Pontiac needed a wake up call and after some persuading I made my way out of Alexandria.

I drove across the bridge and further into the district, stopping about a block away from the precinct so I could hop into the corner diner. I needed a decent cup of joe and some bacon and eggs. Sure it was almost lunch but I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. 

When I arrived at headquarters the bullpen was buzzing like a hornet’s nest. I removed my hat and took a seat at my desk.  My shoulder burned and I felt the stitches pull slightly as I reached down to unearth a group of files from a bottom drawer. I winced as I placed everything I had on Vincenti atop my desk. From behind the stack of papers I watched a parade of suits and uniforms flow in and out of the captain’s office. A cloud of Morley cigarette smoke signaled each time the door opened or closed; it reminded me of how they choose the Pope in the Vatican. I was waiting for that smoke to turn black when I saw Skinner in the doorway. His eyes narrowed and he flicked two fingers like an impatient father. I gathered the assortment of files I was reviewing and brushed past the remaining uniforms that were heading back downstairs.

“Nice of you to join the party, Mulder.”

“Well after my patch job I decided to take a powder and take my phone off the hook. My shoulder is fine by the way.” Skinner took a seat behind his desk and asked me to close the door.

“Funeral arrangements have been made at Arlington. We’re still waiting to receive the final report from the coroner. This of course will tell me how he died but I want to know why. I know you and Detective Spender had been working for some time on the Vincenti ring.”

“Well you did make it a top priority for vice if I’m not mistaken. At the request of the mayor?” I questioned as I glanced at a crowded ashtray then lowered into one of Skinner’s leather chairs.

“Last year, the mayor asked the commissioner for help decreasing drug related crime in the district. And this precinct’s vice squad had a no-nonsense reputation which the commissioner spoke so highly of.” Skinner stated as he pressed back in his chair. “I assume those files you have are related to the case?”

I handed him the papers.

“Since you gave us this assignment, Spender and I discovered Vincenti likes to run operations out of the Navy Yard. Spender wanted to find an informant, or at least pressure someone into being an informant. We staked out a flophouse near the old factory and watched for any dealings. Saw a street-savvy kid who looked like an easy mark and followed him. I remember Spender turning on the bad cop routine and pinned the kid to the wall. We told him he could stay anonymous but he gave us a name; Dimitri Kristoff.”

“A Russian?” Skinner questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“A Russian alias. He gave us that and a phone number,” I replied with a shrug, “At the time, the less we knew the better. Spender may have contacted him and pushed for more info. Eventually we were able to build a file on our friend Dimitri.”

“That might give a little more motive for Spender’s murder,” Skinner stated as he leafed through the file, “Do you think Spender was sold a bad tip or do you suspect the kid?” 

“If Spender was dealt a bad hand he must have kept it pretty close to his chest. We were partners but I personally wasn’t very close to him. I kept Dimitri at arm’s length and I don’t think he’d squeal. You could stake my no-nonsense reputation on it.” I replied as I shifted in my seat, “Frankly if the kid knows what’s good for him he would get out of the game all together.”

“Admirable,” Skinner said while he closed the file and placed it back on top of the stack. I could see the wheels in his head turning, grinding as he tried to rearrange the puzzle pieces. He removed his wire-frame glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was something itching at the back of my head.

“Sir. Can I speak off the record?”

“What is it?”

“I think Spender might have gotten in too deep with Vincenti.”

“Do you think he was working for him?”

“Not directly but he might have been pulling a side job. Thinking he could take a little off the top and offer the precinct’s blind eye as collateral.” 

“He wouldn’t have been that stupid, Mulder. He wasn’t a green recruit fresh out of the academy. He had several years climbing the ranks before getting in with the vice unit. Not to mention his military history.”

“Absolute power corrupts absolutely, sir. He also has connections to The Hill and those connections have mob ties.”

Skinner leaned forward on his desk and put his glasses back on. I could see the wheels turning again. 

“Surveillance can post-up in one of the abandoned warehouses at the Navy Yard and gather more intel, see if Vincenti makes an appearance. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork once this hits the papers. In the meantime I want you to find your junior informant and bring him in for questioning.”

  I rose from my seat and reached for my files with a wince and headed towards the door.  

“And Mulder,” Skinner began before I had a chance to leave, “it will be military dress blues for Arlington. Regardless of your opinion, the precinct lost a man with high honors.”

 I nodded in response and headed back into the fray, closing the door behind me. I weaved back to my desk, dropped the files, and searched in my drawer for a memo with Dimitri’s phone number.

I listened to the phone ring on a seemingly endless loop, the long shrill sound reverberated in my left ear and I could feel my eyelids get heavy.  The ring evolved into white noise and I was one dim chime away from disconnecting the call when I heard the receiver click on the other end.

“You’re lucky I’m a patient man, Dimitri,” I started as I tried to stifle a yawn, “we need to arrange a meeting.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” he responded.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, detective, I’m no good to you. My sources are as dry as the Sahara.”

“Is that so?” I questioned as I switched the phone to my opposite ear. “Well how about we just meet for a coffee.”

“That’s sweet detective but lunch dates aren’t really my style. I like something with a bit more spirit if you catch my meaning.”

“Fine. I can meet you in the nearest alley and serve up my fist to your goddamn nose. That spirited enough for you?” I heard him laugh through the phone, my fingers tightened on the receiver. “Georgetown University library.  I’m giving you three hours.”

“You gonna have a carnation on your lapel so I know it’s you?”

“Try a grey fedora and a pissed off look on my face.”

And I ended the conversation then left the office to get something to eat. 

------

3:35pm

Georgetown’s gothic spires, stonework, and green fields reminded me of my stint at Oxford. My professors felt that I could use more than a State-side education and my father agreed. He shipped me off to England hoping I would return top of my class. I studied psychology, took in the local pubs, local women, and managed a little bit of travel. After completing my academics I knew I wanted to return to Europe. However, in 1941 I was shipped off to the Pacific in a crisp Marine Corps uniform. Never got to see the Old World before things changed. 

I found a bench near the library at the edge of campus and checked my watch. Some students took their studies outside due to the favorable weather. 

Springtime in the city. 

I surveyed the quad: A male student was more focused on a small group of chatty sweater girls than his textbooks, a professor struggled with a satchel as he hurried into a nearby building. I clocked a young man in a pork pie hat headed my direction but he stopped suddenly to retrieve a gauzy scarf that was snatched by the breeze. He caught up with the shapely owner and said something to make her smile. The man adjusted his hat and continued towards me. 

“Nice weather isn’t it?” he began, “Spring is truly in the air and the winds of change are a-blowin’.”

“Dimitri?”

“One in the same, detective.”

“I take it you’ve heard?”

“It hasn’t made the papers, but yes,” he replied as he took a seat on the far end of the bench. I fixed the brim of my fedora as another breeze rolled across the quad.

“I need some answers from you.”

“Well it depends on what you’re asking,” Dimitri said as he took a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and tapped them against his palm.

“Do you know who bumped off Spender?”

“That’s a tall order.”

“Did you set him up last night?”

 Dimitri took a drag off the cigarette then exhaled a short plume of smoke. 

“I got an alibi if you’re interested,” he said confidently as he flicked away fresh ash.

“Let me guess; you were home all night, listened to the radio, brushed your teeth then went to bed like a good boy,” I replied as I shifted positions. 

“Nah, I’m not the homebody type. Never was good company.”

“I can see why. I honestly hate being around you at the moment.”

He laughed and placed the cigarette between his lips. His glance followed a co-Ed as she walked down the path towards the library.  

“Instead I was out following a tip.”

“A tip? Related to your boss Vincentti?” I questioned. 

“You could say that,” he replied, letting the statement hang in the air. It appeared I wasn’t going to get a simple answer.   

“Let’s go for a ride,” I said as I leaned forward and rose to my feet. The kid chuckled. 

“Are you arresting me?”

“Not yet, I just want a change of scenery. My car’s this way.” 

Dimitri pulled out another cigarette as we walked, waiting until he got in my car to light it. I turned on the radio so I wouldn’t have to talk with him on the drive to the precinct. We would have plenty to talk about once we got there.

Upon arriving, I got the attention of the older uniform at the desk who led us to a vacant interrogation room. I handcuffed the kid to the table and told him to stay put as I left to find the captain.

Skinner tucked a thick file under his arm as we entered the room. I closed the door and took a seat across the table. Skinner handed me the folder. 

“Dimitri Kristoff. Or should I say Alex Krycek,” I began as I turned the page, “you’ve got a record colorful enough to hang in a gallery.” I thumbed through a series of reports. “Petty theft, bribery, breaking and entering, minor assault, and this last one - public indecency? Don’t see that too often.” I watched him shift uncomfortably in his chair. His eyes found the corner of the room and carved a path back to focus on his hands.

“A guy’s gotta make a living,” Krycek said flatly.

“Well Alex, you must have been deep up shit creek,” I said reaching the end of his file. “I want to know a few things.”

“You’ve got it all there in front of you, detective.” He gestured with a cuffed hand. “Besides I already told you everything I know.”

“Actually you haven’t. I want to know set us up that night? What was your gain in all of this?” I questioned as Skinner rounded the edge of the table. I let Krycek idle for a moment and think. He looked towards the ceiling. 

“Can I get a smoke? I got a pack in my pocket.” 

I shot Skinner a look then leaned over to uncuff one of Krycek’s hands. He cleared his throat as he reached in his shirt pocket for cigarettes and a matchbook.

“I was in a bad way when I came home from the Pacific. Better off than the boys who didn’t of course, but I was still living alone, scraping by. Did you serve Detective?”

“Marines,” I said curtly.

“Ah. Semper Fi,” he said with a quick salute, “ I was in the Army myself. I couldn’t find a decent job when I got back to the States so I got involved with a fair amount of indecent work. I tended bar at one of Vincenti’s haunts. After a conversation one night I was asked to drive them to a job they were pulling. I had driven a troop transport while I was overseas, so I figured how hard could it be? I signed on with no questions asked.” Krycek flicked a match and lit his waiting cigarette. “I put my lead foot to good use and the more jobs I ran, the more green I had for my pockets. Shakedowns and bank jobs were fine but when the heroin came into the picture I knew I needed to find a way out. I had seen enough of that when I was over there, lost a few friends to it when we got home.”

“So that’s when your moral compass pointed north?” Skinner asked. 

“I got involved with a dame. She was a honey of a blonde named Marita who was in deeper with Vincentti than I realized. She worked at a nice club the crew would frequent. I chatted her up one night and she said I was different than the others. Well, she played me for a fool. She had a strong addiction that I helped fuel and it got her killed.” Krycek let the cigarette hang on his lower lip. “Hell of a dame.”

“Okay. So the motive was revenge,” I said as I rose from my chair. “Sounds simple enough. Thought you could single-handedly take down a mob boss because of a woman. Change of heart, realized the error of your ways, and all that.”

“Why get two of my best detectives involved in the first place Krycek if you wanted to handle this yourself,” said Skinner from his corner. 

 “The top vice unit would have easily wrapped this up with a ribbon,” Krycek responded as he twisted the butt of the cigarette into the ashtray. “Apparently Detective Spender didn’t play by the rules. But that wasn’t my department.” 

I was growing impatient and paced the far side of the room.   

“Son, you better elaborate,” Skinner said with arms folded tightly.

“I’m stating that the detective might have had another agenda at that meeting. He might have been linked up with them longer than you realized. Maybe he was working as a mole all along. Or, perhaps the goon didn’t want Johnny Law getting an extra cut from the drop so he cut him out of the picture.” Krycek mimed two shots with a finger gun. He sat there grinning like a dirty rat. I ran a hand over my face and let my palm rest on the side of my jaw, feeling the muscles tighten. My eyes darted in Skinner’s direction then back at Krycek. 

CRACK

I felt my new scar tissue stretch and tear as I swung a right cross that plowed into his cheekbone. The impact knocked him sideways but not entirely to the floor thanks to the thin chain keeping him tethered to the table. I rubbed my knuckles and backed away, waiting for a retaliation.

“Mulder!” shouted Skinner as he stepped in between, “You’re dismissed.” 

I rolled my wrist and watched Krycek adjust his jaw then situate himself in the chair. No blood yet but mine coursed through my veins like a superhighway. The fact I hadn’t left the room caused Skinner to approach me. 

“Leave. Now Detective,” he said with a deep tone to his voice. I exhaled and obeyed with a heated walk to the bullpen.

[shoutosun]

Glue Sticks & Super-Moves

Chapter 2: Tea Time and Muffins

Pairing: Kirishima/Midoriya

WC: 2175

Genre: Fluff, Slow Burn, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Pro-Hero Kirishima Eijirou, Post-Canon

How kindergarten-teacher Midoriya Izuku and pro-hero Kirishima Eijirou fall in love.

Originally posted on AO3

It always felt a little strange coming back to UA.

None of it felt smaller; the halls were still grand, and the doors still loomed over his frame, but it certainly felt odd, walking the halls as an adult.

Izuku had visited UA many times before, though he mostly kept to the teacher’s dorms. He usually came to see Hitoshi or Eri, and by extension, Shouta and Hizashi.

The only other person he ever visited was Principal Nedzu.

“Ah, Izuku! Welcome!” Nedzu said, flashing him a bright smile. “It is always a pleasure to meet with my former students, and this is no exception! It has been far too long since we last had the chance to chat!”

Izuku gave his former principal a polite bow. “Good to see you again, Nedzu. Sorry I couldn’t come by sooner.”

He walked into the office, taking it all in. Not much had changed in the last three years—the walls were still white, there was a plant in the back corner, and a large bookshelf to his left—though a few more pictures were on the wall than he last remembered. One was of All Might and Lemillion two years ago, both of them beaming for the camera. Izuku tried not to let his eyes linger for too long.

(While he was more than happy with his chosen career path, occasionally, the heartbreak he felt on the rooftop all those years ago would flit through him. His heart would clench uncomfortably in his chest, the pain only soothed by the memories of glitter, sock puppets, and laughter.)

“Would you like some tea?”

Izuku tore his gaze from the photo and sat in the chair across from the principal’s desk.

“Yes, please,” He said, taking the offered cup. It was his favorite kind.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, relishing in the sweet warmth of their tea. While he sipped his drink, Izuku spotted a miniature snowglobe on the desk. It was one he was very familiar with, having bought it for Nedzu on his first (and only) trip to see his dad in the United States. He had spent almost an hour debating the pros and cons of various souvenirs before his mother finally forced him to settle on the small trinket. Seeing it displayed so proudly brought a soft smile to his face.

Izuku took one more sip of his tea before placing it down and asking, “So, Principal, what would you like to discuss with me? I assume you’d like a copy of my lesson plans for Eri’s internship?” He pulled out a few folders from his bag.

“That would be wonderful,” Nedzu said. “I do appreciate how you are always so prepared!” He took the folders from Izuku and started to flip through them, occasionally taking a drink. “Have you considered whether you will be taking Eri for a work-study? I understand it’s a bit early, but I thought you might have some thoughts,” He said, not looking away from the notes.

Izuku hummed in thought. He had considered it, but he wasn’t sure if it was the best move. Eri hadn’t yet decided what branch of education she wanted to go into, so it might be best for her to be a bit more well-rounded. He could always advise her on his personal time.

He said as much to Nedzu, who nodded in understanding.

“I see,” Nedzu said, placing his teacup down and looking at Izuku. “I quite enjoyed my time teaching you in your high school years; do you think Eri might benefit from something like that? I am aware that she does not possess the same… analytical mindset that you do, but perhaps a shift in perspective would be good for her?”

“Hmm, I’m not so sure.” Izuku looked out the window behind Nedzu. “You and I both know that Eri adores you, sir, but I think it might be better for her to get more experience outside of UA.”

“Oh?”

Izuku nods, continuing, “I'm sure you know this already, but Eri had a very... well, a very sheltered childhood. After she was rescued from the Shie Hassaikai, she had to reintegrate into society slowly. Even now, she sometimes struggles with reaching out to her peers.” He sighs. “She does just fine at home; she loves her family to bits—including most of Class 1-A, as well as Togata. But if we want Eri to continue progressing, then we should help her out of her comfort zone—which has undoubtedly become the halls of UA.”

Nedzu temples his paws. “Very astute, Izuku!” He makes a note before continuing, “Glad to see we are on the same page. You never cease to impress me with your observations!”

“Thank you, sir!” Izuku chuckled.

Nedzu pulled a board out from his desk. “Well then, with business out of the way, how about a game of chess?”

“Only if you’re prepared to lose!”

Nedzu flashed him a feral grin. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”

“Okay, Eri, that’s the last of the basic classroom procedures,” Izuku said, clasping his hands in front of him. “Any questions?”

Eri shook her head. “Nope! I wrote it all down in my notebook; I’ll be just fine, Uncle Deku!”

“It’s Midoriya-sensei when we’re at school,” Izuku said, raising an eyebrow at the girl, “but I’m glad you’ve got it all down.”

Today was the beginning of Eri’s internship with him, and Izuku felt great. Eri was super enthusiastic about everything—even the most tedious and nitpicky policies—which made his life a whole lot easier. He was worried that she might be a bit bored at first, but she powered through, and now they got to focus on the fun part.

“All right, Eri, the kids should start arriving in a bit, so why don't you help me finish setting up the classroom, and then you can wait outside the door to greet the kids?” Izuku grabbed a few worksheets and handed them to Eri, nodding towards the tables. “Hara-sensei should be here in a few minutes as well. She texted me to say she was running behind.” Izuku stifled a laugh and dramatically whispered, “Don’t let her fool you; she’ll probably stroll in holding coffee and a cinnamon roll; it’s just how she is.”

Eri giggled. “ Does she ever bring you any, Uncle—I mean, Midoriya-sensei?”

Izuku rolled his eyes playfully. “Me? Only sometimes. She’s nice though and good at her job, so it’s not a big deal.” He shrugs, diverting his attention to the whiteboard, updating a few things.

Hara-sensei, or as Izuku knew her, Emiko, was a pleasant woman. She got along well with the kids; they loved to goof off with her at recess. (Sometimes, Izuku wondered if she wasn't actually a five-year-old herself.) She had been Izuku’s assistant teacher since he started working at Mimba Private Elementary School, and her help had been invaluable. She was actually only a few months younger than Izuku, but she preferred the assistant position. He had tried to get her to apply for promotion once, only to be met with a firm rejection, and glitter flicked in his face. ("Are you trying to get rid of me?") He hasn't suggested it since.

“I’m going to wait by the door now!” Eri called over her shoulder.

Izuku turned, replying with a quick, “Alrighty!”

Emiko strolled in about two minutes later, holding an iced coffee and—to Izuku’s surprise—three chocolate chip muffins.

“Well, would you look at that! My assistant actually brought me a treat?” Izuku teased.

Emiko laughed, setting her things down on her desk. She had long blue hair tied in two braids and was wearing a long-sleeved yellow button-up under a pair of overalls. (Mimba Elementary was famous for its lax dress code, students and teachers alike.)

“I even brought one for your intern!” Emiko chirped. “I hope she likes chocolate. They ran out of blueberry before I got there.” She picked off a piece of the muffin, popping it in her mouth.

Izuku grabbed one, peeling off the wrapper before taking a big bite. He hummed in delight.

“Are those from Sato’s?” Eri asked, peeking her head in the door.

Emiko grinned proudly, holding one out to the other girl, who raced over to grab it. “You betcha! My cousin works there, so I get a family discount!” She said, shooting a wink at Eri.

“Better eat that quick; the students will be here any minute now!” Izuku poked at Eri’s stuffed cheek.

Eri gobbled up the rest of her muffin in record time before sprinting back to the door.

Emiko turned to Izuku. “Do you want to stand outside with Eri today, or should I? She doesn’t really know me yet, so I wasn’t sure if she’d be more comfortable sticking with you for now.” She finished picking at her muffin, throwing the wrapper in the garbage.

“I’ll stay with her for today, but she can go with you tomorrow. I want to push her out of her comfort zone as much as I can while she’s here.” His lips upturned into a playful smile. “Plus, if you keep buttering her up with food, I’m sure you’ll be besties by the end of the week.” He chuckled, popping another bit of muffin in his mouth.

A teasing grin quickly overtook his assistant's face. “By the way,” Emiko whispered, “have you asked you-know-who out yet?”

Izuku felt his face flush red. “What?!” He squeaked. “Absolutely not! We both know I can’t do that!” He waved his hands in front of his face frantically.

Emiko raised an eyebrow at her co-worker. “Do I know that? Because I can’t come up with a single reason why it would be a bad idea.” She leveled him with an unimpressed stare.

“Um, how about the fact that he’s a literal pro-hero and I’m a kindergarten teacher?” Izuku suggested, bewildered at his assistant’s lack of understanding. “He’s way out of my league! There’s no way he would be interested in me!”

“I just don’t see the harm in asking!” Emiko exclaimed. “You never know until you try, Izuku! If he turns you down, then so what? You move on with your life, and nothing bad happens! It’s really not that complicated!” She huffed, crossing her arms.

Izuku sighed, running a hand down his face. “Look, Emiko. I appreciate the sentiment but, we have quite a few mutual friends, actually. So I don’t want to make it weird for anyone if they find out.”

Emiko looked confused. “Wait, you two know each other? I mean, everyone knows Red Riot, obviously, but he knows you too?

“Well, not exactly. I know a handful of his old classmates from UA, and my best friend’s boyfriend is his best friend, or well, one of them anyway. I’ve never actually met Red Riot before, but we have similar social circles. Not that I’ve been, like, avoiding him or anything! I would never do that! And we both see him here at school anyway so—”

“Izuku. Chill,” Emiko laughed.

His mouth clicked shut, blushing again. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just calm down, okay? I get it might make things a little bit weird if he turns you down, but you honestly don’t have a whole lot to lose in this situation. Plus, his kid isn't even in your class! That makes it like, a million times easier to avoid him if it doesn't go well. So just go for it!” Emiko punched his arm before shaking out her hand. “I always forget you’re more muscular than you look.” She pouted.

Izuku breathed out a small laugh. “Thanks, Emiko. I’ll—I’ll think about it, I guess.”

“That’s all I can really ask of you." She gave him a bright smile. "Now go help Eri! She’s gonna be drowning in kids if you don’t!”

“Alright, alright! I’m going!” He waved Emiko off, walking over to Eri.

Little did Izuku know, his new intern had heard every word of his conversation.

And though she may not be a hero student, she was determined to save Izuku from his rapidly failing love life. And she knew just who to ask for help.

“Midoriya-sensei, is it alright if I text my dad real quick? It’ll be just a second!” She plastered on her sweetest smile, one that always got Uncle Deku to agree to whatever she had planned.

“Sure, but make it fast, okay? I’m gonna need your help getting the kids seated and ready for the day,” He said, quickly turning his attention back to the steady stream of kids arriving.

“Thank you!”

Eri pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found who she was looking for. She drafted a text as fast as she could before sending it and stuffing her phone back in her dress pocket.

“All done, Midoriya-sensei!” The girl chimed. “What do you need me to do next?”

In his office, Principal Nedzu received a very intriguing message.

“Why, yes, Eri. I do believe that can be arranged!” Nedzu smiled to himself.

[cultureaddictconfessions]

Don’t Get Caught - A Cubicles sequel - CYO Adventure + Marauders Workplace AU

re-read Cubicles here

After your enchanting evening at James’ after-work soiree, you're feeling nervous to interact with your office crush, with whom you shared a special moment. They’ve made it clear that there’s a spark, but navigating an office romance can be tricky if you don’t want your co-workers to know the situation. With that in mind, you must find sneaky ways to fan the flames of your delicious dalliance. Will you steal another moment with your sweetheart or be found out? 

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As always, Y/N=first name, Y/L/N=last name. When you get to the end, click one of the titles to get your chosen ending! You can also be added to the tag list for this series (I’ll probably write more sequels, as this is a personal favorite of mine and I got ideas!) This is my present to my Tumblr fam, hope you have a wonderful holiday and see ya in 2020! <3 Bri

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The weekend was fairly uneventful. You spent Lazy Saturday with Lily, as always, before the pair of you joined the other office girls for drinks at a hip rooftop bar. Sunday was spent in a lull of running errands and dreading Monday and all that it might bring. You hadn’t mentioned anything to Lily about your party rendezvous for fear of her reaction. You didn’t know how many people bore witness to what happened, but if you could keep it under wraps, you would feel much better. It was tough enough dealing with Rita and the stresses of the workplace, let alone trying to integrate a blossoming crush on one of your co-workers who you would have to see almost every day. You groaned, curled up in your favorite lounge chair in the reading nook you set up in your apartment. 

You had flirty conversations with more than one person on Friday when you thought about it. You just happened to have sparked feelings with one of them. You weren’t the type to kiss and tell, so what did you have to be worried about anyway? Still, you couldn’t help blushing fondly over the memory of that night. It was cliche to call it “magical”, but that was exactly what it felt like. You sank deeper into the chair and tried to focus on the book you were reading, before spending the rest of the evening failing to eat and agonizing over what you would wear the next day. Once settled, you spread on a face mask and turned on your favorite show on Witchflix to distract yourself. You crashed halfway through the episode.

You’d woken up in the middle of the night, tossing and turning anxiously. You got up a little earlier than usual and decided to go pick up coffee for you, Lily, and Rita in an effort to feel productive. The Potion Truck was your favorite little cafe and food truck near the office. You swept in, rattled off the orders without a second thought, then went to wait for them a few feet away. You spotted Emmeline Vance standing nearby, scrolling through her phone with a bored expression. Her shiny black hair was slicked back into a low ponytail, draping over her shoulder. She was clad in a classic trench coat, and her tortoiseshell sunglasses were perched on her head; always the picture of style. You strode over, managing a small smile as you tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up.

“Hi Y/N, fancy seeing you here! Can’t believe it’s Monday again already. What a weekend! Sorry I didn’t come out for drinks on Saturday; I had rehearsal that ran way too late and I went straight home to sleep.” She chuckled, pocketing her phone. Emmeline happened to be a talented hip-hop dancer. You had gone to one of her recitals, and you’d been debating attending one of her classes just to see how much fun she was having. You nodded in commiseration, wishing you were back in bed. The barista called Emmeline’s name, so you were left to yourself for a moment. You wondered guiltily whether she’d seen you at the office party. 

 “That sounds very busy indeed. You have to let me know when your next show is. Emm, I just realized… I don’t remember seeing you at the party on Friday!” You mumbled, fishing for information. She made a bemused expression. Uh oh.

“Well, I saw you making your rounds, Miss Popular! Did you have too much of the spiked punch? I guess we didn’t get to chat, so I can see why you might’ve thought I wasn’t there. I was rather preoccupied myself if you catch my drift.” She gave you a saucy wink, making the color drain out of your face. Maybe she had caught you and a certain someone getting hot and heavy. You didn’t have time to ask because the barista finally called your name. You scurried up to grab the drinks, and as soon as you returned, Emmeline motioned for you to follow her to the office. Your stomach was turning as the two of you walked, with Emmeline chatting amiably about the details of the party, not revealing anything helpful. You made a mental note to shoot her a text message later to find out real gossip.

You passed Alastor at the desk with a soft greeting before arriving at the elevator. Emmeline worked on the floor below you in operations. Not only was she a talented dancer, but she was a clever controller as well. Before the elevator could close, you were joined by the Prewett twins and Peter Pettigrew. Emmeline tensed up slightly beside you, only to the degree that you would notice. You gave her a curious look, but she gave you a sidelong glance and shook her head. 

  “Morning ladies! Looking lovely as ever!” The twins chimed together. You smiled, and Emmeline gave a curt nod.

  “Hi Y/N, hi Emmeline! The brothers and I were just talking about that new baking show everyone’s been raving about! I watched 4 episodes on Sunday afternoon, not even going to lie.” Peter bubbled with laughter as he addressed the two of you. He looked so adorable when he talked about his passions.

“You should audition, Pete! I bet you could show them a thing or two…” Emmeline grinned, winking at him. He flushed at her compliment. You nodded in encouragement, but you couldn’t help but feel a little caught off guard by the easygoing banter Emmeline and Peter displayed. She was a total Cool Girl™, and he was the office dormouse. Since when had they become so friendly? You turned your attention to Gideon and Fabian. They certainly stood out from the crowd, tall and well-built, with shocks of red hair. As you recalled, they happened to be rather athletic and were part of a club outside of work which some of the other office members frequented… though obviously not as devoutly, based on the brothers’ chiseled physiques. You engaged them in light conversation before they and Emmeline stepped off on their floor, leaving you alone with Peter.

“You looked really lovely on Friday, Y/N. I don’t think I got to tell you that.” He smiled softly, hands twisting in front of him. You blushed your attention fully on him. Peter rarely voiced his opinions, much less made such a confident declaration. It was a nice change of character if you were honest.

 “You’re a sweetheart for saying so, Pete, thank you. I had a lot of fun! I think I had a little too much to drink by the end if you’ll forgive me. Feels like a dream…” You sighed, a grin slipping across your lips as you laughed. He laughed along with you, looking at you with appreciation. He seemed as though he were about to say something when the elevator opened. Noticing Rita standing in her office on the phone and looking angry, you were forced to bid the young man goodbye. You didn’t notice him staring after you as you walked swiftly to the time clock.

Lily was already at her desk, so you placed the coffee in front of her with a pat on the head. She swiveled around in her chair and grinned brightly up at you.

 “How did you have time to go and get me coffee, Y/N? Couldn’t sleep?” 

  “How are you so early today, Lils?” You countered, to which she stuck out her tongue. She picked up the drink and sipped thoughtfully, a grateful expression melting her. You were glad you could return your best friend’s favor since she was always the one who went for early-morning drink runs. Rita didn’t come out of her office, so you wrapped up her coffee, sat down and began going through your emails and voicemail. You were completely caught off guard when James Potter came over and leaned on the partition between yours and Lily’s cubicles, grinning like a Chesire cat.

“Evans, where were you on Friday?! We missed you at the party! Y/N was gracious enough to help me decorate, the whiz that she is. Very good company.” He queried Lily, smoothly winking in your direction. You felt your body warming up, but not from your coffee. Lily, however, was not amused and threw a scathing glare at James. You were surprised that he would come and bother her over the party, considering what had transpired. However, it was well known around the office that he had a soft spot for your best friend, despite her obvious distaste. You had to credit the guy, he was nothing if not persistent.

 “Amscray, Potter, I don’t have time for your attempts at witty banter this morning. Rita has been on the warpath all morning and your decorator just arrived. Thankfully with coffee, of course.” Lily spat at him, softening her tone when she mentioned you, although you noted her resentment in referencing you helping James. You clammed up, as did James, though you exchanged a look of concern. Your friendliness toward her rival was quite a sore spot.

“Well, there’s always the next one! Maybe Y/N can convince you to attend…” He commented, trying to maintain his bright demeanor despite being shot down by the other woman. James gave you a meaningful look before he turned on his heel and stalked off toward the marketing department. Lily groaned in frustration but didn’t look up as he walked away. She hadn’t said anything about Rita when you got there, although you’d seen your boss glowering at the air in her office. Why did Lily feel the need to bring it up to James? Was she annoyed that you chose to go to the party? You’d spent Saturday with her, and she hadn’t said anything about it at all. Had his appearance brought up those unpleasant feelings that she hadn’t addressed with you over the weekend? You sighed, not wanting to push her buttons any more than James already had, electing to focus on your current project. Rita had emailed you some of the details so you could get started, although she expected you to sit down and talk with her further.

Rita came barging out to your desk about an hour and a half before lunch and ushered you into her office. She kept you in there for the whole time and a little more before dismissing you. You felt exhausted after that conversation and would have skipped lunch entirely to debrief, except Remus Lupin was standing beside your desk looking sheepish. You glided over to him and an easy smile crossed his face. You were surprised to see him there. Usually, it was Sirius…

“You look like you’ve been run through Rita’s gauntlet, Y/N… if there’s anything I can do to help, please never hesitate to ask,” his voice was soft but tender, and you couldn’t help but beam up at him. He really was one of the most thoughtful men in the office, if not in general.

“That, however, can wait. You are cordially invited to join us for lunch at Molly’s in 10 minutes. I’ve been sent to fetch you, with your acceptance, of course.” He smirked, recognizing the confusion that was evident on your face.

 “Sirius get bored of being the errand boy?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, to which he shrugged, “I really shouldn’t… this project Rita assigned to me is going to be a nightmare. But… in that case, I probably should come with you, since I’ll be holed up forever after this point.” You sighed dramatically. Remus snickered.

 “I think Miss Skeeter can afford to lose you for an hour, don’t you?” He held out his arm, ever the gentleman. You took it shyly, slinging your coat and bag over your shoulder as you did. You couldn’t help but feel lucky to have made such… charming connections at work. Your last office had been full of old codgers who were bitter about their own lives and couldn’t be bothered with friendliness. 

You and Remus made your way around the block, chatting pleasantly about the weekend. He mentioned that he’d gone to a book signing on Saturday, though he wished he’d had a companion to bring along. You couldn’t tell if that was his attempt at flirting, or whether he was just being friendly. You blushed regardless.

 “I did run into Dorcas, though, so that was lovely. She’s very sweet when she’s outside of Marlene’s company.” Remus was only half-joking, judging by the grimace that passed over his face. Marlene McKinnon was a well-known troublemaker around the office, much like James and Sirius. She was a loud, attractive blonde who was confident and very popular with your male co-workers. If one wanted to have fun, Marlene was the best person to go out with any day of the week. However, she was also very reactive and had a vindictive streak. 

Hell hath no fury like Marlene scorned, and Remus had made it very clear one evening when she drunkenly made a pass at him that he was under no circumstances an interested party. She didn’t take too kindly to that, and promptly turned tail and stole Sirius away for the rest of the night. Remus considered her a bad influence and was not shy in expressing this to his friend.

 “Say, Y/N… I wanted to talk to you about Friday…” He said his voice barely above a whisper. You were startled, your head jerking sideways to see him blushing. You couldn’t imagine what Remus might’ve been thinking about since the weekend, but luckily you didn’t have to, because you arrived at the cafe. He seemed to realize this as you reached for the handle, and couldn’t hide his frown.

 “I… can talk about it with you after work if you’d like?” You murmured shyly, unable to look at him. You could see the tension fall out of his shoulders, relief evident on his face. He nodded, managing a small smile and reaching past you to open the door. Your hand brushed his as you pulled yours back. The two of you stepped in, blushing brightly.

“There you two are, bloody hell! Thought you’d gotten lost on the way!” Sirius was the first to pipe up as soon as you spotted the table where your friends were seated. He seemed delighted, but that tempered when he saw the close proximity between you and Remus. When you came to the high top, Sirius shot up and pulled out your chair in a smooth flourish. Your whole body alighted in a moment of emotional combustion before you managed to compose yourself, giving him a million-watt smile in thanks. He gently pushed you close to the table, fingers brushing your shoulders expertly. You sucked on your bottom lip nervously as he returned to his seat, conveniently located beside you. If the other guys noticed this exchange, they pretended not to care. The waitress came over after spotting new arrivals, and you and Remus placed your orders before she flitted off.

“The waitress is pretty fit, am I right? Pete, you should give her your number…” James half-whispered to the table, waggling his eyebrows at the other man. It was Peter’s turn to blush, and he mumbled something about how James should do it if he was so interested. Sirius snickered at this moment but also gave you a sidelong glance to check that you weren’t annoyed by the conversation. At this point, you were used to the guys talking about other potential love interests in front of you. You would only intervene when the discussion veered into inappropriate or disrespectful topics. So, you just snorted and rolled your eyes, to which he grinned back with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

  “You’re so predictable, Jamie. She’s alright, but I’ve seen prettier women in the office, Merlin’s sake… or have you given up on your favorites already?” Sirius smirked, his tone jabbing at his best friend. James scowled, pouting angrily.

“The girls in the office are too busy with work to agree to anything beyond friends-with-benefits, in my experience,” James’ comment was laced with a bit of resentment, “but maybe I’ve just got rotten luck… Hey, Y/N, why don’t you have a boyfriend? I am honestly shocked thinking about it now… I don’t think you’re lacking suitors from the gossip I hear.” He turned his full attention to you, his petulant tone dissolving into suggestive curiosity. You couldn’t help narrowing your eyes at him then, but you composed yourself quickly. Despite Lily’s similar intimation that you were a popular object of affection among your office mates, you still weren’t convinced that their intentions were fully-formed. Remus coughed, looking away from James in distaste. Peter frowned, but he seemed to wonder along with James. Sirius seemed to be the only one who felt the urge to retort.

“You’re a nosy little blighter aren’t you, Potter? I feel like we’ve agreed that kind of talk about Y/N is off-limits. Her business is her own. She’s our friend, after all.” There was a thinly-veiled hostility to his tone which surprised even Remus. The waitress returned with the food before anything more could be said, and the rest of lunch was far quieter. James shut his mouth and looked away, eyes burning.

You were too uncomfortable to make any response one way or the other, though you didn’t really want the men to get into an argument over such trivial things. ‘Is it really trivial though? James is kind of right… why aren’t I dating anyone? I have a crush… why don’t I act on it? It seems to be reciprocated, from what I gather. Or was that just the effects of alcohol…’ You were so lost in thought that you barely ate. The waitress brought you a box to pack up your leftovers. 

James was the first to leave after paying, without a word to anyone, although you caught an apologetic glance as he walked away. Peter popped up quickly and tagged along behind him, giving you a small goodbye wave. An audible sigh slipped past Remus’ lips as he stood up.

“While I agree with you, Sirius, I don’t know if that was the most effective way to deal with James’ query. But I understand… and I’ll go handle damage control since I already had the pleasure of Y/N’s company to myself. Thank you for joining us, by the way, Y/N. Sorry it didn’t go over as smoothly as we’d hoped.” His voice was firm but resigned. You shrugged and gave him a soft smile, knowing that there was nothing that could have been done about what occurred. You still had to speak with him later anyway, so he gave you a nod and followed the other two out the door, leaving you alone with Sirius, who was worrying at his cufflink. You turned to him, tilting your head at the door. He seemed to remember himself then and loped toward it alongside you. He took the box gently from your hand.

“Well, that was a lovely lunch, wasn’t it? I’m sure you’re itching for my next invitation now, aren’t you? You can plan for everything but this, I suppose…” Sirius tried to chuckle, but it sounded hollow. You reached out and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. He looked at you with a doleful expression, so you smiled back.

 “I’m just happy I could get away from my desk and spend some time with all of you, really. Don’t worry about me. Your chivalry is noted, however…” Your tone was all velvet and sweetness, and this seemed to bring the warmth back to Sirius. You strolled in comfortable silence together, occasionally brushing shoulders before you finally arrived at the office building. He paused, looking up at it.

 “Well, you’re always invited to lunch with us, regardless of our behavior. It makes me sad seeing you stuck at your desk all the time. I like to see you outside of your office persona. The party girl is just as cool as the businesswoman to me.” He purred as he handed back your box and opened the door. You could’ve sworn he winked as he mentioned partying; you couldn’t help blushing again. 

It felt rather warm as you rode the elevator up together, and you had pointedly avoided the look Alastor gave as you two had passed by. You didn’t dare look over at Sirius for fear of him discovering your nervous demeanor, though you could feel his eyes on you. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding as the elevator reached your floor. You stepped out before Sirius stopped you, placing a hand on your arm. You started, turning back to him.

  “You know I care about you, right? I mean, we all do, but I don’t want to have crossed a boundary defending you to James. And the whole thing with the party… I’m not sure what you think of me, but it’s important to me that those thoughts are positive. You’re… different. Special, you know?” The wholehearted vulnerability it took for Sirius to admit all of this, in the office potentially within earshot of other people, shook you to your core. It was a very rare man indeed who felt comfortable enough in his self-awareness and masculinity to admit all that. You didn’t quite understand why all this came to him now, but that didn’t matter.

“I do. And they are, trust me. Thanks for trying to wrangle James, but don’t worry about it for next time. I know him pretty well already to not take everything he says at face value, nor does he say anything to me that’s malicious. We’re all friends like you said. No need to dwell on it when we already have so many worries! But…” you paused to catch your breath and consider your final verdict, “I feel the same about you. You’re definitely a character, but a wonderful one!” 

It was Sirius’ turn to blush, but you squeezed his hand on your arm before slipping out of his grasp and sauntering away to your desk, leaving him to stare in wonder after you. You didn’t look up until you were already seated, but he was already gone. Lily leaned back in her chair, giving you a look. You frowned, mouthing an apology before tucking into your desk. Rita had already sent another email making sure that you were on task. You’d made up your mind about talking to your love interest, but you would have to make time for that later...

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Thanks for reading, friends! You can now choose which path you want to finish up this little vignette below. Please specify if you want to be added to the tag list. Sorry for the repetition, but I had some people miss the rules last time so I want to be double sure you know what to do!

1. ...In the Office Kitchen

2. ...In the Floo Hub

3. ...In the Supply Closet

4 ...In the Testing Studio

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Tag List

@supremequeenofthenerds​, @wizardwritings​, @couragetocontinue​, @fudgefight​, @lionnottheanimal​, @crtreg​, @shehassomuchsoul​, @formersovietunion​ and anyone who needs a rest from denouncing JKR for supporting nastyass TERFs! :)

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day Six - Quiet Hours

AN: I have been looking forward to this day all week, and I’m so excited to see what everyone’s done for this! I absolutely love College AUs, and would love to do more of them! Thank you @spideychelleweek​ for getting this all together for us! 

Prompt: College AU

Here is about 4k (oops i went overboard) of fluff, college, humor, and a teensy bit of angst

.

.

“Karen, I think I’m in love.”

Peter almost couldn’t believe it.

No, he really couldn’t believe it.

She’d actually said yes.

She— girl-of-his-freakin’-dreams Michelle Jones— said yes.

Yes to a date with him.

He honestly doesn’t know how it happened, how she was able to decipher the fact that he was asking her to coffee from whatever that jumbled, painfully awkward mess was that came out of his mouth when he’d asked. And he’s not sure exactly how many times he’d said the words “cup of coffee,” in the span of a minute, but if he had to make a guess, it’d probably have been in the low-thousands.

They’d agreed to Friday at 3:30 at one of those cute coffee shops just outside of the campus.

Two days from now.

Alone.

On an actual date.

He briefly contemplates pinching himself; this has to be some kind of a dream. The polar opposite of whatever a nightmare was. He feels lighter than air as he swings from building to building, the smile under his mask threatening to burn through the fabric. 

God, what a day. 

He’d only just met Michelle this semester. He remembers briefly seeing her on moving day, both of her parents helping her move into the room next to his. Her father had been grumbling about the idea of a co-ed dorm, her mother playfully smacking him on the arm as she chided him about the progressing times. 

And though they were neighbors, Peter only got to know her through their shared Psych 100 course. He’d nearly burst into the classroom on day one, having less than a minute to spare as he scrambled to the closest seat he could find. 

He would not be late on the first day again. No, sir.

He was starting this year off right.

The girl next to him— Michelle— had thrown him a fleeting side-eye glance, though not actually looking up from sketching all over the syllabus the professor had just handed out. 

Peter wished, hoped, prayed to God that she couldn’t hear him breathing like he’d just run up four flights of stairs.

(Which he had.)

He’d fumbled, the awkward energy radiating through his bones as Dr. Cabot called his name during attendance for the second time— the first he’d missed because he was too busy staring at the doodles on Michelle’s paper. The girl had snorted at his near-incoherent bumbling, disguising the huff of amused air under her hand, biting back the smirk. 

The shade of red on his face almost matched the pen on her desk, his stomach erupting in butterflies at the toothy grin that flashes across her features at the speed of light, almost missing it entirely.

Okay, maybe the embarrassment wasn’t so bad.

And it seemed to go like that the rest of the fifty-minutes; him finding himself unable to take his attention away from the girl next to him, even when his eyes are trained right on Dr. Cabot as she reads the most-likely plagiarized section that’s totally ripped from other professors’ syllabi, Academic Dishonesty.

Ever since that day, it was safe to say that Peter was smitten. Embarrassingly so. He had to contain every ounce of enthusiasm that threatened to explode from his body when he’d been paired with her for the first project of the semester. 

“Okay, so I figured one of us can talk about Vygotsky and the other can have Piaget. Sound good?”

Though he was making direct eye contact, listening as intently as he could, none of Michelle’s words registered, Peter way too caught up in how freaking enchanting she looked, back-lit by the hues of orange and gold provided by the early-evening sun.

Maybe working on the quad had been a mistake.

“Yo. Parker.” 

Oh, great. And now he’s been caught staring. Now she knows he’s a certified, grade-A creep.

And just like that, he’s snapped right out of his daydream. “Oh! Uhm— Uh…” He stammers, mouth hanging open as he tries to figure what the hell to say, feeling himself shrink back at her expectant stare. “Wha—What?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck.

She turns her head, eyeing him from the side, brow quirked. “I asked you if that sounded good.”

“If what sounded good?”

“If one of us talked about Vygotsky and the other talked about Piaget.” There was only a hint of exasperation to her tone, something which Peter’s pretty damn thankful for. “Theory of cognitive development? You know? The project we’re supposed to be working on?”

Though, he knew she was probably way more annoyed than she let on.

And he couldn’t really blame her.

There wasn’t really anything in either psychologists’ theories about the staring at pretty girls in the sunlight stage of life. 

“Oh, yeah,” he nods thoroughly. “Yeah. Of course. That sounds great.”

“Are you good?” 

He wonders if his skin looks as hot as it feels. “Uh, yeahyeahyeah. Yeah. I’m good.”

Judging by the look on her face, she can see right through that bullshit. But thankfully, she doesn’t press, either completely uninterested or just unable to find it in her to even bother. 

It takes a month... or two... or three, but he finally gets the guts to actually do something about his feelings when he sees her studying in the library one day, her nose buried in the pages of the textbook she’s poring over. 

The library’s normally about a thousand degrees, give or take, but today it seems especially balmy as he rocks back and forth on his heels, hands wringing together as he tries to come up with any kind of coherent sentence that isn’t this inane mumbling he’s currently doing. It only takes about another three seconds of panic before he mucks up just enough courage to ask her if she’d want to get coffee sometime. 

And, for whatever reason, one that is beyond him entirely, she says yes, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she stares back down at the convoluted words littering the pages. 

Honest to God, he feels like he could sing every octave of Beyonce’s Love on Top at this point. With choreography.

Patrol goes on without a hitch that evening, Peter having successfully stopped a poorly thought out break-in before it even happened, the criminals actually trying to use a crowbar in this day and age to open the backdoor of some guy’s place. A few thwip-thwips here and there, some well-timed kicks and punches, and boom. Taken care of.  

Easy-peasy.

Oh, he’d also helped a little boy get his balloon back after it had floated away. 

And he’d prevented a shoplifter from implementing their five-finger-discount on a set of particularly expensive purses outside of one of those designer shops. 

An actual car thief— he had made sure to check this time, not wanting a repeat of his early Spider-Man days— thought he was being especially sneaky before he found himself webbed to the side of the parking garage. 

Overall, it’s been a pretty successful night. 

And Peter can 100% account that to this new, magical, walking-on-air, invincible feeling that’s flowing through his veins, radiating from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes. The evening sun bleeds into night as he flips through the air, whooping and hollering with each leap and bound, the lights of the city twinkling around him. Maybe he throws in a few more aerial tricks and spins as he swings by a crowd, his smile growing exponentially when a chorus of cheers eggs him on.

This happy-go-lucky feeling carries him all the way back to campus, and his stomach does almost the same acrobatics that he’d done seconds before when he sees MJ exiting the library, eyes glued to her phone as she walks through the quad. He knows if he makes it back in time, he might get the chance to see her— talk to her again, for just a little bit, to catch her as she’s going into her room. 

McClain Hall isn’t that far from where he’s perched on the Student Union Building, just on the northern edge of campus, the slightest bit separated from the surrounding dormitories. His own room is on along the outside perimeter, perfect for when he needs to sneak back in from a night of vigilante justice. It’s definitely a step up from Freshman year, that’s for sure. 

Plus, McClain has suite style rooms, so he gets his own bathroom now, which is pretty sweet.

He lands perfectly above his window, internally fist-pumping as it slides open easily. There had been a few too many times where past-Peter had forgotten to unlock the dang thing before leaving, resulting in a very awkward, “Hey, RA, can you unlock my dorm for me? I forgot my keys in there. And yes, I also forgot… my… clothes… too…”

Since then, he’s been a lot more careful, both carrying a spare key in his utility belt, and leaving the window unlocked at all times. 

He climbs in, the dark surrounding him as he lands silently, pulling his mask off and throwing it haphazardly somewhere in the room without a second thought. 

Though something seems… off.

Almost instantly, he’s hit with the faint smell of perfume lingering on the air, and he briefly wonders if Ned and Betty had been here. He glances around, eyes adjusting to the light, seeing his grey sheets replaced with a deep navy. 

Oh, God.

Oh, good God.

He’s such an idiot.

This isn’t his room. 

Shitshitshitshitshitshit SHIT.

He doesn’t have any time to process the utter terror that starts to pulse through him, the hairs on his arms standing ramrod straight as the jingling of keys and as a soft voice is heard on the other side of the door. 

In a moment of panic, he debates on whether or not he should just web the doorknob, thinking it could buy him some time. But he takes a millisecond too long trying to decide. The lock turns, and he ends up hurling himself behind the de-lofted bed as the door opens, effectively trapping himself between the wall and the wooden frame. 

How he hadn’t noticed the difference in how the room was arranged when he’d first come in, he had no idea.

Never, ever, under any circumstances, was he to Spider-Man while distracted, he decides right then and there.

“—studying in the library all day. Felicia’s gone on some sisterhood trip, or whatever.” Michelle’s phone is tucked into her neck as she kicks the door shut with her foot, bypassing the main light switch and electing for the much more muted tones of her desk lamp and fairy lights. 

Peter’s lungs seem to be collapsing second by second, and he briefly wonders if it’s possible that he could be having some kind of heart attack. He can see her slightly through the thin gap between the mattress and the bed frame, his stomach lurching into his chest at the sight of her. 

Ohgodohgodohgod.

“Yeah… Yeah… Mhmm… Yeah, classes are fine… just three or four big midterms next week, and one of them’s a project.” She drops her backpack on the chair, her back to the intruder in her room as she puts her books back on her desk. “Yeah… Uh-huh…. Yeah…” Her tone is monotonous in response to the cheery voice on the other line, her own droning the same automated reply every few beats. “Uh, yeah. Peter’s fine… I guess?”

Instantly, the sound of his own name in a conversation that he’s not a part of in any way and kind of has no business hearing piques his interest. 

There’s a hint of hesitation to her tone as she continues, as if she’s not completely sure she’s willing to divulge any more sensitive information. “I mean… I’m kind of… getting coffee with him… like a date, I think.” She pauses, holding the phone away from her ear at the excited rambling on the other end. 

She thinks??

“Mom, oh my God, please stop...:” She lets out an melodramatic groan, running a hand over her face in exasperation. “I’ve told you before, I didn’t think he was interested, geez. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

She talks to her mom about me??

His insides are a mish-mosh of this weird concoction consisting of utter horror-panic and pure unadulterated elation. It’s ultimately a very confusing feeling, and he’s not sure if he’s going to end up barfing all over her carpet out of fear or happiness. If his mask was still on he’s about 105% sure Karen would have already called an ambulance for him. 

“Yeah… Yeah, okay… Listen, I’m gonna get ready for bed, take a shower. I’ll talk to you more about this later, I promise… Bye, Mom…. Yeah…. Love you, too.”

If at all possible, his anxiety seems to spike as she hangs up the phone.

MJ rolls her shoulders once, shaking her hands out as she releases a relieved sigh. 

He had to get the hell out of there.

Unseen.

And alive.

His chance finally comes when she steps into her bathroom, and he waits for the sweet, wonderful, holy sound of that door clicking shut. He holds his breath, listening for any movement on the other side of the door. He’s able to pick up on her faint shuffling as she (presumably) changes out of her clothes and into nothi—

He immediately decides that he absolutely cannot think about that right now. Very dangerous territory. 

When he’s sure that the coast is clear, he makes a break for it, snatching up his discarded mask as he leaps for the window. 

But perhaps it would have been a better idea to listen if the shower had been turned on yet.

Before he can even get a foot on the windowsill, the bathroom door opens again, revealing his potential inamorata in nothing but a dark burgundy bathrobe. His eyes are immediately drawn to every patch of skin visible; her neck, her collarbones, her unfairly long legs.

He’s not sure who screams louder. 

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?!”

A fair question.

What the fuck is he doing in her room?

“I’M SORRY—”

“—JESUS CHRIST—”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I SWEAR— I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN THE SHOWER—”

“—SO YOU SNUCK INTO MY ROOM?”

“NO! GOD NO—”

“—HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN HERE?!”

Peter tries to lower his volume, hoping that she’ll follow suit. “Like maybe five minutes!”

“OH MY GOD—”

“I didn’t mean to— God— AH! I’m so sorry, MJ!”

She stops yelling, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. 

“How did you even get in here?! Did you seriously climb all the way—” She immediately cuts herself off, her eyes flicking to the window before giving him a quick once over that makes him feel at least fifty-times more hot under the collar than he already was. It was a wonder the suit wasn’t burnt to a crisp at this point. 

He can practically see the dots as they connect in her head.

Michelle considers herself to be more perceptive than most people, which is why she’s known all along that something was up with this Parker dude. By their third or fourth week of knowing each other, she’d come to the deduction that this boy was either a crime fighting vigilante or a serial killer. Really, could have been either one. She was just glad to have at least something confirmed.

Though she would have preferred it to not be from Spider-Man himself sneaking into her room at midnight when she’s wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

“It’s not what it looks like!!” Peter immediately tries to derail her train of thought, hands held out in defense. “It’s uh— not mine.” He stares blankly at her, his expression wide in sheer terror as he scrambles for an answer. “Yeah.” He trails off, his eyes momentarily drawn the the trail of skin from her neck down to the valley between her—

No. No no no. Stop that.

She fixes him with a calculating stare, eyes narrowing as she quirks a doubtful brow. “Then who’s is it?”

His scoff is nothing if not a little over-the-top, his expression scrunching slightly as if the answer’s obvious. “Spider-Man’s.”

Her only response is a slow, deliberate blink.

“Who I am definitely not. I just make the suits,” Peter quickly spits out, and he starts to shrink back the longer her eyes are on him. “Just… Just test driving... the new model… Because I’m his suit… crafter… guy....”

He’s met with another blink. “Are you done?” She asks.

There really was no way out of this.

Peter sighs dejectedly. “Yeah…”

“Tell me something, Parker.” Her tone is a bit too casual for comfort. “Do I look stupid?”

“No! God, no!” He groans, running a tense hand through his hair. “You’re like the smartest person I’ve ever met! Just…” He brings his volume down even more, though he doesn’t seem to know what to say, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to form a coherent sentence.

He decides that there’s really nothing he can say, nothing that can convince her that he’s not a superhero.

A sharp exhale escapes him as he finally looks up at her, eyes pleading. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“What? That Spider-Man’s a creep who sneaks into girl’s dorms?”

“No!!” Peter shouts, voice cracking. “I mean, I don’t sneak into—Ugh! That’s not what I— God, I meant don’t tell anyone that I’m—” His mouth snaps shut, lips pressed together as he lets out a sharp exhale. He glances right and left, voice now barely above a whisper. “Spider-Man.”

She’d almost be amused if it weren’t for the way her ears and skin burned in embarrassment at being caught in just a bathrobe by the cute boy she likes. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

He seems to notice her discomfort. “Michelle, I’m so sorry, I—” And it’s then that he starts rambling. “And I just got so excited about our date and I just wasn’t thinking clearly… like at all, and I usually sneak back into my room after patrol and since we’re neighbors and everything I guess I just got confused, which doesn’t usually happen, I promise this has never happened, and then I didn’t know what to do and all of a sudden you’re in here and I’m hiding behind your bed and— “ He takes a deep breath, hanging his head in shame. “God, I’m such an idiot!”

There’s a sharp knocking on the door; Peter nearly jumps out of his skin, and MJ seems just as jarred.

“RA on duty,” A firm voice calls from the other side of the door. “It’s quiet hours.”

“I should— I should, uh…” Peter stumbles over his words, unable to take his eyes off of the girl in front of him. “I should go back… to my room.”

“Oh, uhm— Yeah.” MJ nods awkwardly. She gestures to the door, eyebrows raising in question. 

Peter shakes his head, breathing out a shaky chuckle. “Oh, no… I’ll just go back the way I came.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder before planting his hands on his hips, giving a firm nod. 

It really stings how she doesn’t even look at him as she mumbles out another near-silent, “Yeah.”

And he leaves without another word. 

Man, he knew that Parker luck was something that had plagued his family for years and years, but he hadn’t expected it to hit so hard all at once. It had been quite a while since he’d fucked up that badly, so he thought he was in the clear. Maybe that had been his first mistake of many. Maybe he shouldn’t have let his guard down. 

A pit forms in his stomach, twisting and pulling in a vice-like grip as he returns to his own room. 

And now, the girl-of-his-dreams Michelle Jones, because he had been so lost in his own thoughts, because of his complete lapse in basic attention, probably wanted nothing to do with him. He knew he didn’t need to ask if their date was still on, and truthfully, he couldn’t really blame her, given that he’d invaded her personal space and embarrassed her. No, he didn’t expect her to want anything to do with him now. Especially not after the way she’d yelled at him. 

There’s been plenty of times that Peter’s fucked up, almost too many to count. But this… This was up there.

He doesn’t hear from her the next day, nor the day after, only seeing her when she comes to Psychology class that Friday. He can’t even bring himself to actually look at her when she sits in her usual spot next to him.

He mopes about the rest of the day, knowing full well that it’s his own stupid fault. Ned points this out, though he tries to remain sympathetic as he agrees that yes, Peter’s an absolute dumbass sometimes. 

But Ned also suggests actually talking to MJ about all this.

Peter immediately shoots that down. 

Instead, he decides to do the rest of his moping at the campus Starbucks, cheek resting against his hand as he reads the same sentence about the zone of proximal development over and over, his vanilla latte completely forgotten in all of his sulking.

“Why the long face?”

Her voice startles him out of his brooding state, and he immediately looks up, heart thumping in his ears as his eyes land on one Michelle Jones, two coffees in either hand.

“Uh—” Peter’s response isn’t his smoothest. He blinks in surprise, briefly wondering if he might be dreaming. “I—” His voice cuts off, finding that he can only stare up at her with this dopey, blank expression. 

“What? You thought I forgot?” She lifts her index finger from the side of one of the cups, pointing to her watch. “It’s 3:30. I’m right on time.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, though she still seems to wait for his invitation to sit, the faintest hint of insecurity behind her eyes. 

Finally, Peter smiles back up at her, a breathless, shy chuckle escaping him. Her smirk turns into a full grin, and she pulls the chair out with her foot, setting both cups of coffee down as she sits. 

“I gotta say,” Peter starts, eyebrows pulled together in happy confusion. “I’m kinda surprised you still wanted to… get coffee with me. After… After, well, you know… I’m so, so sorry about that. Again.”

Michelle pushes one of the cups to him, taking a thoughtful sip from her own. “Eh, it’s fine.”

“Really?” Peter asks, pitched raised in minor disbelief. “I mean,” He pauses, huffing in amusement and slight embarrassment at his previous actions. “I’m kind of a dumbass.”

She shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes as she glances up from behind the cup. “Yeah,” She agrees readily after a moment’s contemplation. “You are.”

They both laugh quietly. 

No argument there.

“But… I’ve been thinking about it.” She puts her cup down, bracing both elbows on the table as she leans forward slightly, her voice incredibly nonchalant. “I think I kinda have a thing for dumbasses.”

“Oh? Really?” He breathes, butterflies in his stomach erupting. 

“Uh-huh.” MJ nods, eyes squinting as she fixes him with another sly smirk. “Especially ones that look that good in a skin-tight onesie.”

Peter’s sure his face could blend in with said onesie if he was actually wearing it, and he nearly chokes on his new latte. 

She tries to hide the snort that comes out of her, but fails miserably. 

“Well, don’t worry,” Peter lets out another, slightly less nervous, laugh, firing finger guns at the girl across from him, attempting a not-so-smooth wink. “There’s way more dumbassery where that came from.”

Her lips press together in a thin, yet incredibly cute smile that makes Peter’s heart soar, a welcome warmth washing over his body. “Good,” She says through a quiet laugh, shaking her head at him as she takes another sip from her coffee. 

Yup, he’s definitely in love.

[rubiaryutheroyal]

Wright & Co. Daily #4

“Wright & Co. Law Offices’ Valentine” Source: Gyakuten Tsuushin (originally posted 2/13/20)

Edgeworth: Ah, my apologies, Wright. I’ve arrived a bit late.

Phoenix: ...

Maya: ...

Pearl: ...

Edgeworth: (...What is this tense atmosphere...?)

Phoenix: Oh, Edgeworth. We said the time was at 3 pm, and now it’s... 3:05.

Edgeworth: (What? Is it my tardiness that’s the cause of this atmosphere?)

Pearl: U-um, here you go. You can have this if you’d like.

Edgeworth: Oh. I do like youkan. Allow me.

Pearl: Ah, and if you’d also like, here is a hot drink to go with it.

Edgeworth: Oh. This has a rather rich aroma...

Phoenix: Is something wrong?

Edgeworth: No. Rather, in my opinion... I would think tea would be better suited with youkan, or even coffee would do.

Phoenix: You “would think”?

Edgeworth: I wouldn’t have expected “red bean soup” to come along with it.

Phoenix: Ugh! Look, Maya, I told you it was “red bean soup”!

Maya: I said so too! Thinking about it “logically”!

Pearl: Oh... Please don’t fight, you two. It’s all my fault...

Maya: No, it’s not your fault, Pearly.

Phoenix: Don’t make it like I’m at fault!

Maya: Then whose fault is it!?

Edgeworth: Pardon me for interrupting you two, but may I ask you something? Why have you called me over here today?

Maya: Mr. Edgeworth, you know what day it is today, right?

Edgeworth: It’s... February 14th. In other words, Valentine’s Day.

Maya: You see, since I’m a “girl”, you’d think I would be all over this day, like making chocolate, even from the beans.

Edgeworth: That would be respectable... though, “from the beans”?

Pearl: Yes! I’ve read into how to “make chocolate from the beans”, so Mystic Maya can open up her heart!

Edgeworth: O-oh, I see you’ve been working hard.

Maya: But then Nick had to sneak in and gobble it up just yesterday!

Edgeworth: W-what? He “gobbled it up”?

Phoenix: I said I was sorry. But for starters...

Maya: As a “girl”, I was planning to invite Mr. Edgeworth for tea on Valentine’s Day and serve it to him with gusto like “Here you go, sir!” But then Nick came along.

Phoenix: And I said I was sorry. But first of all...

Edgeworth: ...Wright, don’t tell me you ate it all.

Phoenix: No, no! I only had a bite and there was a lot!

Edgeworth: So where did the rest go...?

Phoenix: ...It’s right in front of you, “that” thing.

Edgeworth: ...What?

Maya: Aw. I thought they were a bit too sweet, but I tried my hardest to make them!

Edgeworth: ...

Maya: But I just couldn’t get the strong flavor out and kept fussing over it!

Edgeworth: Well, no, that isn’t the problem... Any way you look at it or taste it, it’s definitely youkan.

Maya: That’s because it’s my first time making it! I can’t be perfect on the first try.

Edgeworth: ...Mmph.

Phoenix: By the way, what kind of recipe were you using?

Pearl: Um, I think it went... “First, draw out the cocoa beans’ rich aroma by roasting them.”

Maya: But, you know, starting off with “cocoa beans” was a problem, and the supermarket didn’t sell them.

Phoenix: Oh, boy.

Maya: So, we instead used other beans. We still had some from the sweet bean mochi we had the other day.

Phoenix: Those are red beans!

Maya: And so I boiled them until they drew out their rich aroma.

Pearl: Um, Mystic Maya... I think it said to “roast” them.

Maya: Oh, really? Er, what was next?

Pearl: Okay. “Then, mash them well into a paste, add the sugar and cocoa butter, and chill it,” it says!

Maya: Yeah! So I mashed them into a paste and chilled it in the fridge. I added sugar and gelatin.

Phoenix: Hold it! Gelatin...?

Maya: Really, bringing up “cocoa butter” was a problem... but we had some of that from the milk jelly we had the other day.

Edgeworth: You certainly made “chilled youkan” to completion.

Phoenix: And that was what I had snacked on, right? I had no idea it was supposed to be Valentine’s Day chocolate.

Maya: Oof...

Pearl: Oh, it’s my fault. I had thought “something doesn’t seem right”, but I didn’t say anything.

Maya: Well, me too. I thought “yeah, this definitely isn’t right”, but didn’t pull out.

Phoenix: If it were me, I would have definitely said “I should have pulled out back there.”

Edgeworth: ...Incidentally, what is the story behind this red bean soup?

Phoenix: Well, Maya kept insisting it was cocoa and we got into an argument over it.

Pearl: Mr. Nick said, “Then, instead of the coffee beans, let’s boil the red beans.” And Mystic Maya said, “Logically speaking, it’s about as close as we can get.”

Maya: Bah. I was hoping Mr. Edgeworth wouldn’t notice.

Edgeworth: ...Why would you underestimate my sense of taste?

Maya: Ah, well. We still have a lot left, so feel free to help yourself to some youka- er, chocolate!

Phoenix: There’s more where that came from too, that sou- er, coffee.

Edgeworth: ...In the end, I’ve been invited to have whatever you’re serving me.

--

[T/N: Throughout the conversation, I was debating with myself over whether to keep the Japanese names or translate them, but “youkan” is one of those that can’t neatly be translate into English. It’s a jelly-like dessert made from azuki beans. Usually come in blocks like tofu. And the “red bean soup” is oshiruko, which is usually accompanied with mochi balls / tapioca and other sweets, but I think Maya may have just stuck with the soup itself here.]

[loverdrew]

The College Boy | Noah Centineo Imagine

Summary: He was the boy everyone envisioned falling in love with the moment they laid eyes on him. He had the sparkling brown eyes, the hair with the perfect amount of crazy curls, and the smile that could save millions. And I was stupid enough to fall for him too.

Chapter 1

Love.

It’s suppose to apparently come out of nowhere, and hit you hard without any warning. At least, that’s what everyone around me tells me. I’ve witnessed countless couples on this college campus fall in love, but you’d never expect them to be together. Like the bad boy that smokes and wears leather stands outside his 4.0 GPA girlfriend’s upper division math class just to ask how it was working with equations longer than their relationship. Or the shy science guy showing his sorority girlfriend how to work with chemicals in order to create a reaction, which causes one in her and she kisses him in infatuation. But when it comes to me, love just didn’t seem to exist. I was quiet, didn’t socialize a ton, and spent most of my time with my nose stuck in the books. Guys seemed to look past me, or only talk to me when they needed help with their biology. They were nice, but I knew they only needed me for my brain, never any other part of me. 

“Y/N! Are you listening to me?” My best friend Nichole calls across the coffee table. I shake out of my daze, holding my warm beverage, and apologize for spacing out. “What’s got you so working up anyway?” She turns around in her chair to scope out the parts of the coffee shop she couldn’t see, and once her eyes land on him, she knows why I can’t seem to pay attention to anything else.

She spots the college boy that’s there every day, from 5pm to 8pm, with his typical drink of black coffee and a croissant, aside his bright laptop, a few textbooks and a notebook. His eyes fixated on the screen and page he’s writing on for whatever class he had that day. The way his hair just slightly fell over his eyes, he’d have to push it away sometimes but other times he kept it there because his studies seemed more important than whether he could see fully or not. His long fingers grip the pen he’s holding so hard that his veins pop out a little on top of his hands, and I could only imagine how big those veins could swell if he were to do something else. 

“Oh, now I get it.” She winked at me. “Mr.Noah, at his typical spot doing his typical work. Isn’t that boy also on the football team?”

“And the debate team, and occasionally theatre club.” I said quickly, my eyes still looming over his dimly lit face.

But as if on cue, the bane of my existence, walks in. His girlfriend.

She walks over and plops her bag on the chair beside him, giving him a light kiss on his cheek to which he responds with a slight smile, looking back down at his paper. My eyes avert from where they were looking before and begin to look intensely at my coffee cup. Nichole does a quick turn around to see her, and gives me a sympathetic smile.

“You’re so much better for him, she’s just a passing phase.”

“Nichole, they’ve been together for 4 years now, no breaks, no nothing. If I was the better choice, they wouldn’t be a couple.”

“Not to bring you down sis but even if Noah was single, you wouldn’t even make a move. So you’d be stuck in the same position you are now, staring at him from afar like one of those romance novels you love so much.” It was a love/hate thing with Nichole’s blatant honesty, it was appreciated, but I hated it because she was always right.

I’ve been secretly in love with Noah for the past 4 years. We went to high school together, and everyday I’d study out near the football field just to watch the teams practices, but it didn’t help that his girlfriend Victoria was also a cheerleader, giving her allstar boyfriend kisses and cheering for him. We had a few classes together like biology and english, and occasionally he’d ask me a question to make sure he was on the right track, and all I would give is a simple nod then focus back on the lesson. It didn’t help my case when I found out the only reason he went to my college was because of a football scholarship, and that he’s my next door neighbor in the dorms, seeing as the buildings are co-ed. I could tell sometimes when we’d get home at the same time that he’d be waiting for a ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’, but I quickly unlocked my apartment door and shut it, sighing with my back shoved up against it. Noah wasn’t meant to be with someone like me, so I never pursued anything.

I only wrote a single letter, addressed to Noah himself. His name beautifully written in cursive with little heart designs surrounding it, in a crisp envelope neatly tucked away in my english binder. Even Nichole didn’t know about it. I wrote it one night when I got home and saw Victoria leaving Noah’s apartment in one of his hoodies, giving him a long sweet kiss before she road the elevator to her own dorm. Noah and I made eye contact for a good 5 seconds before I practically ran into my apartment almost vomiting in the kitchen sink. You ever feel something so strongly that it doesn’t just stay emotional but becomes physical too? That the feeling of love is so strong inside of you that you don’t even know how to deal with it? Well my feelings for Noah make me sick.

Eventually I saw Victoria cuddling up to Noah as he was packing up his stuff, and those sick feelings started building up in my stomach and a sinking feeling caved in my chest.

“I need to go home now, please.” And soon Nichole and I were sprinting back to our apartment.

“Hey, Bryan just texted me right now, I’m going to head up to his dorm for a few, maybe even overnight. Don’t save any dinner for me.” She stayed in the elevator while I got off at our floor, walking back slowly to our room. It was just Nichole and I, which was nice because she was like my sister. We typically got annoyed with each other as two people would who spend so much time together, but we got over it quickly, and made up always. And because her boyfriend lived in the same building as us, she sometimes wasn’t home at night which left me to a quiet apartment where I could make the dinner I wanted and watch the movie I loved the most, before taking a relaxing long shower and finally falling asleep to peace. 

I had just gotten to our apartment when I heard footsteps approaching down the hall. My head whips as I see the man of my dreams strutting down as if it was a runway. I quickly fumble with my eyes as I catch on to his gaze, and now he’s not only walking to his dorm door, but to mine. I look down and try to find the key that corresponds to our lock, and before I could even jam it in right, I feel his body heat radiating onto my exposed arms. 

“Hi.” He simply says, with a smile on his lips.

“Hi.” I say back friendly, but continue to look for the right key.

“I was just going to ask you if you have the notes from English today? I’ve been distracted with football practices that I haven’t been paying much attention in class.” I gave up and slumped my shoulders, looking up at him while clutching my binder and give him a simple nod. “Do you mind if I borrow them? I promise I’ll give them back, maybe even later on tonight if you’re still up! And I’ll buy you a coffee tomorrow morning before your 8 am, your usual, 3 shots of espresso with soy milk and cinnamon on top right?” My eyes scrunched together, and I looked around to see if anyone was playing a joke on me right now. The, Noah, remembers my coffee order? “I hear you order it all the time, and I’ve seen the writing on the outside of the cup before, trust me I’m not some creep.” I put my hand up singling him to stop before he says anything else stupid.

“I’ll let you borrow my notes, no coffee, no charge. Just bring them back tonight, I’ll be up.” I opened my binder messily, and grabbing the notes from the front pocket, about 3 papers in total. I handed them to Noah and proceeded to open my apartment door, and before I could even close the door, he uses his sport strength to keep it open that much longer.

“I wish you wouldn’t always ice me out Y/N. You’ve been doing it since high school.” I sigh, setting my stuff down on our dining table and putting a hand on my hip before turning back to Noah.

“I’m not icing you out, I’m just not as social or talkative as you.”

“I would really like it if you went to the football tomorrow night, be social for a night. I remember seeing your face at our practices and games last year, and to be honest it made me work harder every time.” I almost choked on my damn saliva while also feeling like I had dry mouth, the things this damn boy does to me. My eyes went big and I instantly bit the inside of my lip almost drawing blood.

“Uh, w-what time is it?” Was all I could say back.

“We warm up at 6, going out and play at 7. First game of the season, and I’m leading it.”

“But I mean won’t Victoria be there? Cheering you on on the field?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So that means you don’t need me there.” He gave a slight chuckle, before looking up at me with those smizing eyes. 

“Like I said, I play better when I know you’re watching.” The room fell silent, and I quickly went up to the door putting my hand on the knob.

“I’ll go if you leave, just slip the notes underneath the door when you’re done.” And slammed the door before he could intervene once again. I fell back onto it with a huge sigh and my heart beating a hundred miles a minute. My hands felt clammy and my head started to spin. He wanted me there. He had noticed me in high school. Where was all of this before? Why is he all of a sudden spilling these details out as if they mean anything now?

Before I could pass out from the thoughts, I stood up and straightened my stance, getting ready to make my dinner and start my nightly routine.

[-this-dizzy-dreamer-]

Colleagues and Cocktails (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Coworker!Sebastian Stan x Plus-size!Reader AU

Summary: When you get moved up to a new department at work you can’t help but dread every aspect of it, that is until you find yourself expecting one of your co-workers to walk through the door every day. Then you realize it might not be as bad as you thought. But the thing is he doesn’t seem to notice you at all. All he seems to give you are daydreams and interesting chats with your best friend.

Warnings: Language, Smut.

Word Count: 2.5K

Enjoy!

At exactly 6 in the afternoon, you arrived home to hear your television playing inside your apartment and shoes already outside the door. You laughed to yourself since by now you should have known your best friend would be over before you’d even arrive. Elizabeth could never wait to hear your gossip, but then again you could never wait to tell it to her either.

“Hey, girl! Sorry I got here so early. I couldn’t wait. On the bright side, I put the drinks in the fridge when I got here!”, she said as you put your things down on the couch beside her.

“It’s ok Liz, it’s a good thing you did get here before me. I have so much to tell you, but let me go shower first and then I’ll tell you over pizza. Order it, yea?”

“Of course, the usual with jalapenos, right?”

“Duh! Oh and get cheese fries too!” You said as you headed to your room to pick out some sweats and a tee.

You then made your way to the bathroom for a much needed soothing hot shower. Opening your phone to play some music while you showered you noticed an unopened notification in your email again.

sstan01: So how was it? Want to quit yet?

coffeelover04: Haha it’s not that bad. I think I could stay til I retire or you know die from staying late at the office and being murdered by some ghost or something. Whichever comes first.

After a minute without a reply and remembering the water had been running for a while now you finally stepped into the shower. Just as Billie Eilish’s Ocean Eyes started playing you had started conditioning your long jet black hair. For some reason, as you sang along you couldn’t help thinking about elevator guy and his beautiful blue eyes. He had seemed like such a jerk, but you couldn’t lie to yourself that was totally your type. Tall and brooding. You loved the idea of them being nice just for you. But then again, Sebastian seemed pretty cool too. He was nice. But maybe you could try talking to elevator guy, right? I mean it wouldn’t hurt if anything maybe just having him under you would be enough, or on top whichever he preferred…

“Damn it (Y/N), he’s a coworker you can’t go messing with him, besides he wouldn’t be interested in you.”

Once you had finished your shower and taken your head out of the gutter, the pizza arrived. You pulled out two wine glasses and the bottle that had chilled in the fridge and settled yourself on the floor next to Liz who was sprawled out on the couch.

“Alright, spill! How was it? You didn’t find anyone to replace me, right?”She said taking a slice of pizza.

“Of course not, loser. No one else in this whole universe could possibly stand me and all my shit. But I mean, it wasn’t bad or anything. I was a little underdressed, and by a little I mean a lot everyone was literally in like business casual shit and here I was in a tee and leggings, I almost died of embarrassment on the inside. And when I was going in I forgot my ID and some dude didn’t hold the elevator door for me and he made me almost spill my coffee and then I couldn’t find a phone to actually work with for over half an hour and I didn’t finish all of my work for today too, sooo...yea.”

“Was he at least cute?”

“Is that really all you heard?” Laughing you shook your head. “He was alright.”

“Alright, what does “alright” mean? It’s a yes or no answer.” She said shoving you slightly.

“Fine. Fine. Yes, he’s cute, alright? Well, maybe a little more than cute, happy?!”

Elizabeth let out something between a screech and what sounded like a wounded animal cry. Startling you just enough to make you drop some cheese on your shirt from your fries.

“Are you okay?”

YOU JUST CALLED SOMEONE CUTE. YOU TOTALLY HAVE A CRUSH!"

"It's not the first time I call someone cute."

"Besides me. I didn't know you had feeling OMG who are you. Where is my best friend?"

"Stop ok. It's not a big deal."

"Uh, yea it is. This calls for bottle number 2 to come out."

"Dude no I have work tomorrow morning and like I said it's no big deal."

“Uh yes, it is.”

As Liz was coming back with the second bottle you decided to check your notifications.

sstan01: lol glad to hear, even though that was oddly specific????

coffeelover04: Omg, so sorry. That probably sounded super weird. I’ve been on a supernatural binge and I’ve been drinking. Haha..ha I’m sorry.

“Who are we texting?” Liz plopped back down on the couch handing you your glass and looking at the messages over your shoulder. “sstan01? Who’s that? A tinder match? You’re still on that?”

“Dude no he’s not a tinder match, although I am still on it, that’s not important right now.” You almost chugged the wine n your glass remembering how you told yourself you were going to delete tinder a week ago. “He’s from work, I think.”

sstan01: Really now? Drinking on a Thursday? All alone, without me? Haha, jk. It’s ok don’t worry about it, it’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard.

“You think?? What do mean you think??”

“ Well it’s from a work email, so it has to be someone who works with me.” You shrugged in defeat as Liz questioned you.

coffeelover04: Yes really. And I’m not alone I have a friend over. And I don’t know what to tell you about it not being the weirdest thing. Unless of course, you’d like to share what that thing is lol. Are we on that level yet, stranger?

“But it’s your personal email, how could he have gotten that?”

“Liz, I don’t know. I mean it’s on my resume...he could have gotten it from there? Why does it matter I don’t even really know this guy.”

“Exactly! Are you hearing yourself right now?” Said, Liz, as she playfully smacked your head. “You don’t know this man, but somehow he has your personal email?”

“Liz he’s not going to turn out to be a serial killer. He’s nice.”

“Again, are you hearing yourself? They’re always nice!”

sstan01: Oh, drinking with a friend? I’m going to let you go then. Could tell you my old man stories another time.

“ (Y/N)! See, old man stories! He’s a gross old man.”

“Ok, you’ve had enough to drink.” You say laughing and taking Liz’s glass. “You can crash here for the night and I’ll make us breakfast in the morning. Sound good?”

coffeelover04: Just my best friend, but alright. I’ll hold you accountable to those stories lol goodnight!

“Sounds great!” She said as she put away the half-empty bottle and pulled out the bed inside the couch, which you had bought exactly for these occasions. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight.”

Heading to your room you checked your phone one last time before plugging it in to charge.

sstan01: Anytime you want to hear them just let me know. Goodnight (Y/N)!

There was no way he could be a creepy old man, right? He had to be from work and most of them were pretty young looking, well at least those you’ve seen. Maybe you were overthinking it and had too much to drink too. It was best to just sleep on. So, slipping into bed you curled up and found yourself thinking about elevator guys deep blue eyes.  

All of a sudden you could feel him against you. Wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Feeling his breath warm on your neck making your hair stand. You couldn’t help but whimper softly as you felt him push closer to you. Turning around you face those gorgeous blue eyes.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

His hands trailed up your back and through your hair to your face. He caressed your cheek softly and began to pull you in.

“I think I love you (Y/N)...(Y/N)”

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!, Dude come on you said you’d make me breakfast….” Liz slowly came to view as you opened your eyes.

“God damn it, Liz, fine...gimme a sec. You know I was pretty content sleeping.”

“Yea I saw you were all smiley, it was a little unsettling.” She laughed as she shoved you toward your bathroom door. “But no time for that you have 2 hours before you have to go to work and I want food.”

“ Ok, but don’t start without me, I don't want you burning my apartment down.”  

Quickly putting your hair up and brushing your teeth you planned out your morning in your head.

1. Quick breakfast. Pancakes and eggs. Maybe bacon?

2. Change for work. Do you have work clothes?

3. Find sunglasses. This headache is going to kill you if I don’t.

4. Find keys. Probably on the couch.

Walking into the kitchen you could already hear Liz cursing the stove.

“ Come on stupid thing turn on already....”

“I’m here you can stop pretending you don’t know how my stove works.” Laughing you start the stove and start pouring in the pancake mix Liz made. “If you want some you can take out some bacon and eggs.”  

After breakfast, which took a lot longer than what you had anticipated, you started to look for an outfit and maybe even your sunglasses altogether. Finally after trying on 3 of the 4 dress pants you owned you decided on the only ones that did go over your thunder thighs and a nice light blue dress shirt.  

“Hey, you start work at 8, right? It’s 7:15.”

“Shit, ok can you do my hair please?”

Hurrying out of your room and into a chair you pulled out your phone and debated whether or not to let Jessica know you would be late.

“ I can still make it right?”

“ Yea, totally”, said Liz tugging at your hair “ If you quit moving like a five-year-old.”

Sitting still you decided to just convince yourself you wouldn’t be late. Plus finding your sunglasses could be put aside and you were pretty sure you were now sitting on your keys so everything would be fine.

“ Done, simple, but cute braided half up half down do”

“ Thanks, I owe you one. Help yourself to food if your staying and lock up when you leave! I love you!” Grabbing your bag and keys you made your way to your car as your phone went off.

sstan01: Good morning, are you getting coffee for everyone today or are you just late?

You decided to answer later because well, you were late and time wasn’t going to freeze at 7:55 just because you wanted it to. As you got to the office you make sure you had everything before you got out of the car this time and you prayed no one would see you or at least call out the fact that you're late.

Coffeelover04: Very funny, actually just walking in. Little hungover, but nothing serious.

Seb couldn't stop thinking about last night. you had told him you were with a friend and his mind raced. Were you on a date? Did you have a boyfriend or girlfriend? He had to remind himself that he barely knew you and was in no place to ask you. Plus you had said you were with your best friend, so why was he worrying? Or why did he even care? Maybe it had been because he had had someone over last night too, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do more with that girl other than kiss her once. He didn’t know why he had never had that problem before. He was charming and it had always worked in his favor. So why hadn’t he been able to turn on his charm last night with that girl? And why did he to this moment still feel a pang of jealousy in his gut. You weren’t the type of girl he usually chased, but for some reason, he was drawn to the mess you were. But he couldn’t let himself fall for you, especially not now that he had been promoted too with a new office and everything. But he still had a pretty good view of your desk, with the wall being clear glass and all, which you weren’t in yet and it was already 8:15.

Walking in you slowly tipped toed across Jessica at the front desk just as elevator guy walked in clearing his throat. You couldn’t help, but blush as you thought back to the dream you had and how good he looked in a full suit. He looked so serious and his face was just too captivating, the way his eyes searched the office and his tongue licked his lips before he spoke.

“Good Morning everyone. Just wanted to let you all know that al data is due at the end of the day, no matter what time you come in.” You hadn’t been too sure, but it was like he was directing that last bit to you, but he had no way of knowing you had just gotten there, right? You started walking back to your desk and as you got there noticed Jessica following close behind.

“ You know if you had warned a gal I could have covered for you.”

“ I’m sorry Jess, I promise I’ll let you know next time. Not that I promise they’ll be a next time or anything.”

“Don’t stress over it, love. But tell me what was all of that with Mr. Boss man?”

“ What are you talking about?”

“ (Y/N) dear, I saw you blushing and eyeing the boss when he told us about data.”

“ Wait….the boss? Jess no he can’t be the boss!”

“Oh but he is, just got promoted yesterday. Maybe if you had stayed till the end of the day you would have found out or at least came in on time today.” Jessica said as she walked off smiling to herself.

sstan01: Glad to see you finally made it. Seems like you’ve got a record of coming in late and it’s only your second day.

coffeelover04: Thanks, but don’t judge me ok? Pretty sure you aren’t Mr. Perfect.

Seb smiled to himself as he read your message in his office. Oh if you only knew.

Again, feedback is much-appreciated guys! ~xoxo~

[berniesrevolution]

IN THESE TIMES

Visiting Julia Salazar’s North Brooklyn campaign office one warm july weekend, I’m greeted by a volunteer with a spreadsheet. Like nearly everyone else in the converted coffee shop, she’s a member of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), and she asks me cheerily if I’m there to canvass. I’m not, but if I were, I would be instructed to make my way to a training session on the sunbathed patio out back that is scattered with half-full bottles of sunscreen. After that—in the span of just a half-hour—I would know everything I need to know about how to help elect a card-carrying socialist to the New York state Senate.

If Salazar makes it to Albany, she will join the ranks of 42 DSA-endorsed candidates who are now or will soon be serving in offices from the Moorhead, Minn., school board to Capitol Hill (that is, if Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez wins the general election as handily as she did her primary in New York’s 14th Congressional District). So far this year, local chapters have endorsed at least 110 candidates.

DSA may soon have 50,000 members across 200 local groups in all 50 states—up from 6,000 members in 2015. The surge in freshly minted socialists came in three waves: First, those energized by Bernie Sanders’ primary run; second, those brought in by Donald Trump’s election and the Women’s March; and third, those inspired by 27-year-old DSA member Ocasio-Cortez’s primary victory in May over incumbent—and Democratic heavyweight—Joe Crowley.

So what is DSA, exactly, and what is it doing with this growing army?

DSA’s electoral work has attracted national media attention in the wake of Ocasio-Cortez’s historic win. Yet it’s just one part of a bottom-up approach to politics that sees the ballot box and state power as tools for advancing toward a more radically democratic society. Members—most of them millennials, in small towns and big cities in every corner of the country—are engaged in everything from occupying Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) offices to evangelizing about Medicare for All. Many reporters have tried to divine what DSA believes, be that the group’s policy prescriptions or its ideology. DSA, though—to crib from Karl Marx—isn’t looking merely to interpret the world, but to change it, campaign by campaign, door by door. What’s made DSA’s ascendance remarkable is less its analysis of capitalism than its ability to put people angry about capitalism to work.

IT’S TELLING THAT, UNLIKE MOST SOCIALIST GROUPS, DSA WAS FORMED OUT OF A MERGER—NOT A SECTARIAN SPLIT. 

In 1982, at the dawn of the Reagan era, the Democratic Socialist Organizing Committee (DSOC) and the New America Movement (NAM) combined forces. DSOC had been founded in 1973 by socialist intellectual Michael Harrington and other members of the Socialist Party who had grown disenchanted with political irrelevance. NAM, founded in 1972 by former members of Students for a Democratic Society (SDS), was rooted in ’60s counterculture, the New Left and second-wave feminism. (In 1976, members of DSOC and NAM moved to Chicago to found In These Times, and for the next decade the then-newspaper reported diligently on the ins and outs of DSOC, NAM and DSA.)

The 1980s would prove a tough decade for left politics, the 1990s and 2000s even more so. DSA shed members and closed chapters around the country as a few loyalists and a steady trickle of young recruits kept the organization running.

Enter Bernie Sanders’ primary campaign and his stalwart identification as a “democratic socialist,” a surprise boon for an organization with those two words in its name. DSA’s commitment to being a pluralistic, “multi-tendency” organization also meant it was open enough to accommodate thousands of newcomers.

Democratic socialism itself has always been a heterodox term, encompassing everyone from ideological Trotskyists to New Deal Democrats. The surge of new, mostly 20-something members include anarchists, Marxist academics and—most numerously—political neophytes excited about Sanders’ message and frustrated with the Democratic establishment.

DSA isn’t keen to enforce a strict definition of “democratic socialism”—although mainstream media outlets newly hip to DSA are desperately looking for one. On its website, DSA writes:

At the root of our socialism is a profound commitment to democracy, as means and end. As we are unlikely to see an immediate end to capitalism tomorrow, DSA fights for reforms today that will weaken the power of corporations and increase the power of working people. ...

Our vision is of a society in which people have a real voice in the choices and relationships that affect the entirety of our lives. We call this vision democratic socialism—a vision of a more free, democratic and humane society.

Members I spoke with took this to mean everything from taking public goods like healthcare off the private market (along the lines of Scandinavian social democracies) to worker-ownership of the means of production. Central Iowa DSA co-chair Caroline Schoonover was among many to say that democratic socialism means “taking power from the few and giving it to the many.” All saw small-d democracy—people having a say in the decisions that affect them—as central, both in politics and workplaces, and in DSA itself.

The Socialist Feminists of Democratic Socialists of America organize a protest outside of the New York County Republican Office in New York City on July 5, 2017. (Photo by Erik McGregor/Pacific Press/LightRocket via Getty Images)

For this story, I spoke with around two dozen DSA members from chapters around the country. The primary source of their excitement was that DSA chapters seemed to be actively working on something, not just sitting around reading Marx. Like the citizen action group Indivisible, which also exploded after the election, DSA let people shake off a feeling of helplessness about the political climate and roll up their sleeves.

DSA also offers a community. Chapters host regular beach days, parties, fundraisers and social events, like Metro D.C. DSA’s recent “No ICE Cream Social.” If Indivisible was able to connect many alienated, middle-class suburbanites jarred out of their political comfort zone, DSA has provided a home for tens of thousands of downwardly-mobile, debt-ridden millennials grappling with a system that simply isn’t working for them.

Adam Shuck and Arielle Cohen, 32 and 29, joined Pittsburgh DSA in its infancy; Shuck was among the seven people who first met at a bar in 2016 to talk about getting the chapter together. Each was energized by Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign but disillusioned by his presidency. “I thought we were going to see some kind of New Deal,” Shuck says. The frustration led him at first to join the International Socialist Organization before the Sanders campaign brought him to DSA. While a student at SUNY Purchase, Cohen grew disillusioned with the sausage-making and compromise that created the Affordable Care Act, and organized with Occupy Wall Street before moving to Pittsburgh and finding her way to DSA. Now, Shuck and Cohen co-chair the Pittsburgh chapter.

Pittsburgh DSA held its first general meeting in December 2016 with around 100 people. Now it has a dizzying number of working groups: a health justice committee campaigning for Medicare for All; reading groups tackling Marx and Engels; an anti-imperialism committee lobbying for legislation criticizing Israel’s occupation of Palestine; a socialist feminist working group exposing crisis pregnancy centers; an ecosocialist group fighting the privatization of the city’s water and sewer system; a housing rights group pushing for protections for renters; and a number of inward-facing groups handling tasks like recruitment and communications.

The chapter also brought the newly revived DSA one of its early electoral victories, rattling the local Democratic machine. In December 2017, the group threw its weight behind Summer Lee’s campaign to represent House District 34. In the May primary, with the help of DSA and groups like Our Revolution and the Sierra Club, Lee, 30, a recent law school grad, beat Paul Costa, 57, a 19-year incumbent and member of a dynastic Pittsburgh Democratic family.

Lee had experience working on school board races and on a coordinated campaign to elect Katie McGinty governor and Hillary Clinton president in the 2016 general election, and she was impressed with DSA’s electoral work on Mik Pappas’ judicial campaign. Pappas ran on a platform of ending cash bail and working to end mass incarceration, and won in a landslide, with the help of a dedicated grassroots turnout effort staffed in part by DSA members.

“They were running 20 or more canvassing shifts a week,” says Lee. “I had never seen that type of energy around magistrate elections. I realized that ideologically we aligned.” She joined DSA shortly thereafter and sought them out as her first endorsement.

It wasn’t easy. DSA’s candidate endorsement process is a microcosm of its baked-in commitment to direct democracy. For every decision, at every level, there’s deliberate space for members to duke things out, combined with a commitment to ultimately supporting the group decision rather than splitting off into rival factions. The very question of whether to engage in the electoral process—and in particular, to work within the Democratic Party—remains fraught, with many members skeptical of investing limited organizational resources into elections rather than base-building.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is joined by New York gubenatorial candidate Cynthia Nixon at her victory party in the Bronx after upsetting incumbent Democratic Representative Joseph Crowly on June 26, 2018 in New York City. (Photo by Scott Heins/Getty Images)

New York City DSA hotly debated whether to endorse Gov. Andrew Cuomo’s challenger from the left, Cynthia Nixon, after she declared herself a democratic socialist. Several dozen DSA members signed a “vote no” statement arguing that universal healthcare and rent control will be won not by electing candidates to office but by “building working-class power that holds [them] accountable,” citing the successful teachers’ strikes in Republican states. In late July, NYC-DSA officially endorsed her after an extended series of debates.

“We have folks who distrust electoral work, and even among those that don’t, there are different ways of thinking of how to approach it,” says DSA National Director Maria Svart, 38, a former SEIU organizer. “Everybody appreciates that electoral success only comes when you have an organized base. Having all these tendencies in conversation means that everybody learns from each other.”

While the endorsement process varies from chapter to chapter, in some cases—including Lee’s—the first step is filling out a lengthy form with questions from each of the chapter’s working groups. Typically, one is whether the candidate identifies as a socialist. Members weigh that alongside specific policy questions (“Do you support universal rent control? Abolishing the police?”) and a range of other concerns: How much of an impact could the chapter have on the race? How will it build the chapter’s capacity and the movement to challenge the capitalist class?

Next comes the interview process. After filling out Pittsburgh DSA’s questionnaire, Lee was interviewed by a roomful of members. The group voted to endorse both Lee and Sara Innamorato, a state representative candidate, and the two supported one another’s campaigns.

Ocasio-Cortez, in New York, jumped through even more hoops. Because her congressional district spans the Bronx and Queens DSA chapters, she had five interviews: with the electoral committees and membership of each branch, and then the citywide convention. “We put her through hell,” jokes Michael Kinnucan, a DSA member now co-managing the state Senate campaign of Julia Salazar (whom the organization endorsed alongside Ocasio-Cortez in a parallel process).

Abdullah Younus, co-chair of NYC-DSA and a member of DSA’s National Electoral Committee, explains that the extensive endorsement process isn’t just a means of vetting candidates, but of building members’ commitment to them. “It makes it a lot easier to have the same folks who write the questions come out and knock for those candidates,” he says. “They’re talking about work they’re invested in.”

Salazar, 27, estimates that some 800 DSA members live in and around her district, which has translated into hundreds of volunteers spreading the word about her September primary. Even in her short time with the group (she joined in late 2016), she’s seen a change in how fellow leftists relate to electoral politics. “I think part of it is people seeing the term ‘democratic socialist’ normalized in the electoral realm, through Bernie mostly, at least initially, and so seeing it as an actually viable strategy,” she told me between knocking doors.

Though she’d worked on legislative campaigns as a staff organizer with Jews for Racial and Economic Justice, Salazar only recently began to consider electoral work. “It’s not something I ever thought about before—not just for myself, but in seeing leadership development in community organizing as a path toward seizing state power,” she says. “That sounds like a jump, right? But ultimately that’s the goal.”

New York state senate candidate Julia Salazar (R) knocks doors in Bushwick, N.Y., with a fellow DSA member in July. (Photo by Raul Coto-Batres)

Thanks in part to the Sanders campaign and Ocasio-Cortez’s stunning upset, that goal feels more within reach now than it has since the days of the Socialist Party’s Eugene Debs. Big, universal programs like a federal job guarantee or Medicare for All draw overwhelming popular support. And small, local races offer an opportunity for the grassroots to tip the balance.

Establishment candidates in Democratic-controlled cities effectively depend on low turnout. Their political consultants tend to rely more on advertising and glossy mailers, and less on actually talking to people—particularly people who don’t usually vote. Mobilizing even a few thousand new voters in that context, then, is a fairly straightforward formula for victory. When DSA member Lee Carter won a seat in Virginia’s House of Delegates in November 2017, he beat his Republican opponent by 9 points—a margin of 1,850 votes.

“Our party structure protects incumbency, and relies on an ignorant electorate,” Summer Lee says, noting how much time her campaign spent educating voters about the election itself. “If everybody were voting, we’d have a completely different system.”

Depending on the city, DSA can offer a large, self-organized volunteer base to candidates who navigate its endorsement process. Pittsburgh DSA estimates that its volunteers knocked on some 70,000 doors through the course of Lee’s campaign. Turnout in Lee’s district was 14 percent higher than in others around Allegheny County and 54 percent higher than in the last midterm election.

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