#if you can guess who i’m talking about i’ll give you a double stuffed mint wegmans knockoff oreo

[dear-ao3]

[ilikecowsnstuff]

Chapter 5!!!

SUMMARY:  UA Hero Course - Third Year. Shigaraki Tomura and Dabi have been classmates and rivals since their very first day at UA. But with new feelings developing how will they cope given their history of fragile and often violent encounters? Their dance begins after a partnered training exam goes wrong, leaving Shigaraki wounded and Dabi feeling guilty. AU. 

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CHAPTER FIVE – FRIENDS AND ENEMIES

 The morning was overcast. Dark clouds mottled the sky outside the Alliance dorm, blocking the sun for the most part and making it feel about ten degrees cooler than it actually was. The weather had seemed to take a turn for the worse overnight, and a harsh wind blowing through threatened an early winter. Granted, it was late October, but the change of seasons was approaching much too fast as far as Shigaraki was concerned.

 A shiver crawled the length of his spine, gooseflesh breaking out over his skin. For someone like Shigaraki, who had internal climate control problems, this was the worst time of the year - even with a thick sweatshirt layered over his UA School Uniform he was still cold. He was always cold.

 Shudder.

 Of course, his first day back at school had to be dull and dreary - it was almost as if the universe was telling him that today was not the day. Stay inside. Try again tomorrow, but he had no excuses for skipping school now. Recovery Girl had returned from her short stint out of town and healed his broken rib, and everyone including the faculty were expecting him to be in classes unfortunately. 

 Another full day of gaming would’ve been nice though...

 “You’re not thinking about skipping, are you?”

Shigaraki glanced sideways at his best friend and then drew up the hood of his sweater, pulling it further over his head to protect his face against the wind. Kurogiri was keeping in stride with him, even though Shigaraki was moving at a snail’s pace on the sidewalk, procrastinating on the school day ahead.

 “Me? Nooo, never.” Shigaraki replied, voice laced with sarcasm.

“Right.” Kurogiri replied, snickering.

 “I’m walking, aren’t I?”

 “Slowly.”

 Shigaraki stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and sped up a little to pacify his cynical friend. 

 They walked in silence for a short distance before Kurogiri spoke again.

 “So, I heard Dabi received a pretty lengthy training assignment for failing the partnered exam. It’s all after school hours too.”

 Dabi. That name. It made Shigaraki tense up until he was scowling, his teeth clenching tightly together. He was, of course, still mortified by the events of the past few days, how he had allowed the zombie boy to get so close to him. Over and over, Dabi had slowly broken down the protective walls Shigaraki had spent years building up around him only to tear them down easily with a single touch of his hand.

 And now, with something akin to fondness and an equal amount of frustration, Shigaraki couldn’t help but recall the abiding affection Dabi had shown him. He was persistent, enduring Shigaraki’s lapses in hysteria and patiently guided him to a place of peace; languid kisses and soft touches persuading him to surrender. And he did.

 It was sickening. Absolutely disgusting. He was weak. Ugh.

 “That idiot deserved it.” Shigaraki finally grumbled, scratching at his neck.

 “What do you expect to get out of it?”

 “I don’t know, a small slap on the wrist?” Shigaraki answered, lip twitching, “It wasn’t my fault.”

 Kurogiri shook his head, “I don’t think you’ll get off that easy. You know, the faculty were pretty pissed off about losing one of those robots. Apparently, they are not cheap.”

 Shigaraki made a face, “Oh yeah? I suppose I'll just die next time.”

 Kurogiri snorted a laugh. Shigaraki was being over-dramatic, as was his custom, and even though Kurogiri was used to the theatrics, he still worried about his friend, since Shigaraki neglected to concern himself.

 “I’m just telling you what I heard.” He added, “I think they are mostly upset that the robot was destroyed just because you and Dabi couldn’t play nice.”

 “So, what’s new? We shouldn’t have been paired up in the first place. It was a disaster waiting to happen.”

 Simultaneously, they pushed through the double-doors of the main UA building and turned into the hall. Instantly, Shigaraki paused, his eyes narrowing. Up ahead of them, propped up against the wall just outside classroom 1-A, and seemingly waiting for their arrival, was Dabi. 

 “Speak of the devil.”

 Bright blue eyes went straight for Shigaraki, who looked away reflexively, jaw tensing.

 Fuck.  He was hot. Why did he have to be so hot? It made it extremely difficult for Shigaraki to maintain his apathy when Dabi looked so… good. It was almost as if were doing it on purpose too. Today, despite the cooler temperatures, he wasn’t wearing his UA school blazer and he had his shirt sleeves rolled up his scarred forearms. Cool and casual. And grinning impishly at the two boys.

 Shigaraki almost whimpered, if it weren’t for his brain telling him to get his shit together he just might have. The world was a cruel place.

 Kurogiri looked annoyed, obviously suspecting the audience was for Shigaraki. Dabi often liked to cause trouble for his friend, especially at school, and Shigaraki didn’t need to deal with any of Dabi’s bullshit on his first day back.

 “Come on. Just ignore him.” 

 Easier said than done. Shigaraki thought silently, and the two boys continued down the hall.

 “Hi,” Dabi greeted.

 “Umm, hi?” Shigaraki answered, his brows drawn tightly together. Kurogiri made a gagging sound and walked straight past him. They didn’t socialize at school, Dabi had his own group of friends and Shigaraki had his - he had no reason to stop for a friendly chat. Neither of them did.

 “Ouch,” Dabi chuckled, hand pressed against his chest in mock offence. He pushed away from the wall and followed the pair, “Hold up.”

 Both boys whipped their heads back over their shoulders but didn’t stop walking.

 “Can I talk to you?”

 Kurogiri ficked his gaze from Dabi to Shigaraki and then back again, curious but not stupid. Clearly, he wasn’t being asked to join in on the conversation, it was supposed to be between the other two boys and them alone, but regardless, he would stay and back up his best friend unless told otherwise. History would suggest this wouldn’t end well so a mediator might be necessary.

 “Yeah, I guess.” Shigaraki mumbled, looking forward now.

 “Can I… ah, talk to you alone?” Dabi requested, hoping Shigaraki’s sidekick would get the hint and leave.

 “Anything you have to say you can say in front of him.” Shigaraki jerked his chin, motioning over to Kurogiri. 

 Dabi’s returning grin was devilish, “You sure about that?”

 Heat immediately flooded Shigaraki’s cheeks. Dabi had a good point. Pertaining to Shigaraki’s and Dabi’s not-really-a-relationship, there were many things Kurogiri did not know, and Shigaraki wanted it to stay that way. Even if it meant keeping a secret from his best friend.

 “Save me a seat.” Shigaraki mumbled, looking over at his friend. Kurogiri nodded, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway.

 As soon as Kurogiri disappeared inside the classroom, Dabi took Shigaraki by the wrist, dragging him into the nearest alcove - which was really just an empty entrance to a locked janitors closet. It wasn’t a private space in any way, but it did allow a little seclusion from the other students still loitering in the hall. They could talk uninterrupted.

 “What are you…” Shigaraki stopped short as long, warm arms wound around him. He stiffened in that embrace, clearly giving off uncomfortable vibes, and he anxiously turned his head from one side to the next. Anyone could catch them together, though Dabi didn’t seem the least bit concerned, he was already swooping in and kissing Shigaraki’s cheek, stepping closer, nuzzling his jawline.

 “I missed you, Mop Head.” Dabi whispered, his voice husky and sweet.

 “Tch.” Shigaraki grumbled. What did Dabi have time to miss? It had only been a few days since they had seen each other last. Actually, no, it was only two. Two days! Good, Lord. “Get off me!” Shigaraki grumbled, shoving at the other boy.

 “No.” Dabi cocooned Shigaraki more tightly in his arms, “Stop struggling.”

 “Idiot.” Shigaraki snapped, though, unconsciously he was already leaning further into Dabi’s body. He was warm, so warm, and Shigaraki wanted to curl up into the heat. Dammit! He smelled good too. His nose bumped Dabi’s shoulder as he relaxed some, forehead coming to rest in the crook of the other boy’s neck, and he, bitterly, began to forget why he was supposed to be pissy in the first place.

 He really was a sucker.

 “That wasn’t so hard, right?”

 “Shut up.”

 Dabi chuckled softly then lifted his arms. He slid his fingers into Shigaraki’s hair, blunt nails teased his scalp before he pushed the hood of Shigaraki’s sweatshirt back off his head.

 “Run out of time in front of the mirror this morning?” Dabi asked, teasing.

 “What?”

 “Your hair looks like something died in it.”

 “Thanks,” Shigaraki replied, rolling his eyes. He managed to take a step back, and out of Dabi’s hold. “We’re going to be late. What did you want to talk to me about?” He huffed and folded his arms defensively over his chest

 “Talk?” Dabi let out a short laugh and shook his head. “Are you really that naive?”

 “Naive?” Shigaraki’s nose wrinkled.

 Dabi leaned in and curled his fingers beneath Shigaraki’s chin. “I don’t want to talk.”

 Shigaraki knew what was coming next and stood very still. He should have pulled away, he should have turned his head away and said no… Instead, he closed his eyes and let it happen. When Dabi’s mouth brushed his he inhaled a sharp breath through his nose, and when Dabi’s tongue touched his lower lip, Shigaraki gasped, inadvertently allowing that tongue to pass inside his mouth.

 He tasted mint almost immediately - fresh and clean, like Dabi had just brushed his teeth. Nice. Sweet. He shuddered and swallowed reflexively, feeling Dabi’s hand navigate to his waist, nimble fingers stroking his side. Encouraged by the other boy’s compliance, Dabi tilted his head, changing up the angle and deepening the kiss.

 Shigaraki moaned, glad to have the support of the wall behind him. He felt dizzy.

 But then the heat of the other boy’s mouth was gone, the taste of mint turning cold on his tongue. Shigaraki opened his eyes with difficulty, face very warm now. He put a hand up between their bodies and gave Dabi a gentle push to get him to back up a step.

 “We should get to class.”

 “We’ve got five minutes. Maybe six.”

 Shigaraki glanced up at Dabi, his brow drawing tight when he realized that the other boy had taken a step closer again. “So, stay. I’m going.”

 “Can I sit with you in class?” Dabi gripped Shigaraki’s forearm so he wouldn’t be able to run away.

 “No.”

 “Lunch then?”

 “That’s a big no.” Shigaraki hissed, “Let go of me.”

 Behind them in the hallway, a loud set of footsteps skipped past the alcove and then stopped. Shigaraki tensed up again as the footsteps immediately returned, almost if the person was backing up. Which was exactly what was happening! Shigaraki reeled back, slipping away from Dabi when he recognized the flyaway blond hair.

 Takami.

 “Hey! Get to class you two or I'm going to write you...” The boy started, mimicking one of the staff as a joke before he paused mid sentence. He threw an arm over Dabi’s shoulder, glancing over at Shigaraki, and his brows popped up in surprise. The last thing he expected to see was his BFF and rival alone together… and not trying to rip each other throats out. 

 “Well, well, well. Now this is very interesting.” The corner of his mouth kicked up into an amused grin. “Did I just catch you two doing something bad?”

 “The opposite.” Dabi mumbled, irritated by the interruption. 

 Shigaraki scowled. The blond boy was easily his least favorite person in, probably, the entire world. He was loud and obnoxious, that bubbly do-gooder type personality that everyone seemed to be attracted too, and he had the stereotypical good looks to match. “The perfect hero”. Apparently. He was the kind of guy that always had the right answers and was all “yes ma’am” and “please and thank you” - the students and faculty ate that shit right up. But his smile was acidic. Shigaraki could see right through him. Shifty as fuck.

 Shigaraki ignored the new arrival and pushed his way out of the alcove. 

 “Well, you’re a delight as always.” He chuckled after the retreating boy.

 Without turning back, Shigaraki flipped him off and then quickly disappeared around the corner. 

 “See you in class!” Takami called out with that honeyed voice of his. The sound made Shigaraki want to turn back and deck the blond in the face, knock him down a peg or two. But he restrained himself. He didn’t need to make a scene. And breaking the class presidents nose would only get him in more trouble than he already was.

 He drew his hood back up over his head and made a beeline for the classroom all the while chiding himself for letting his guard down so freely. He had to be more careful where Dabi was concerned, that call was too close for comfort.

 The bell rang sharply. Besides, Dabi and his feathered friend, Shigaraki was one of the last students to file into the classroom. His back dropped to the floor with a loud thud as he slipped into the empty desk next to Kurogiri. He planted his elbows on the desktop and dropped his chin into his hands.

 “So, what happened?” Kurogiri asked, leaning over so only Shigaraki could hear him whisper.

 “Nothing.”

 “Bullshit.” Kurogiri scoffed, skeptical. He wanted more details and was about to ask but Mr. Aizawa had arrived for class. Right on time.

 “Ahem.” Mr. Aizawa cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention, “Quiet down and take your seats.” He glared at the couple of students still loitering outside the doorway. One of them being Dabi, the other Takami. They both rushed into the classroom, followed by another dark-haired boy wearing a medical face mask... He wasn’t in their class...

 Dabi fixed his eyes on Shigaraki before taking an empty seat at the front of the room, his blond buddy remained standing at the front.

 “Shigaraki Tomura!” Mr. Aizawa dropped a tall stack of loose paper onto his desk causing a chorus of startled gasps to echo around the classroom. “A sweatshirt? Again?”

 Someone laughed, Shigaraki sighed. He didn’t understand what the big deal was.

 “Remove the hood from your head.” Mr. Aizawa ordered, glaring at Shigaraki until the boy casually flipped the hood back, revealing his messy mop of bed hair.

 “Thank you. And welcome back.” His lazy gaze shifted back to the class. “You’ve probably already noticed, but we have a new student joining us today. He is a transfer from the East and will be finishing his hero schooling here at UA.” Mr. Aizawa announced, waving his hand tiredly at the newcomer, “Takami, will you make the introductions.”

 The classroom was immediately filled with muffled whispers. This was highly unusual. A student transferring in third year? It was unheard of. 

 “Sure!” The blond answered, way too enthusiastically, and stepped up beside the new guy. “Hero Class 1-A. This is Chisaki Kai.”

 To Be Continued...

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Chapter One – Accidental Attraction

Chapter Two - After Care

Chapter Three - Dazed and Confused

Chapter Four - I Like You

[angioponder]

Maid Wars: Hott Butts, Cold Maids (2/9)

Fandom: VIXX & BTS (Multi-fandom with BTOB & B1A4 Ensemble)

Genre/Warnings: humor, crack, fluff Word count: 2492w

author’s note:  also on AO3 | follow the story #maid wars au finally posting the collab with @thinking_toes (twt) and i! so this has been two years in the making. we were just talking in the kitchen about this shit and it was so entertaining that we decided to take notes and… welp here we are. this was a JOURNEY. we hope you enjoy reading this multi-fandom kpop fic as much as we enjoyed building this world. happy reading~

Summary: Taehyung heard from his friend, Jimin, that they were hiring and he REALLY needed a job.

Walking down the small alleyway, folder clutched tightly in one hand, a waxy hand-drawn map from Jimin in the other, Taehyung made his way into the tiny shop with hopes of working soon. He hadn’t noticed it before, though he had walked through this area many times while visiting his favorite toy shop. It was sandwiched between the back of a laundromat and what looked to be an abandoned figurine store. Taehyung took a deep breath and choked slightly on the smell. Why was a coffee shop allowed to throw their trash out the front? He supposed it was part of the charm. The peeling paint, the claustrophobic tightness of the street, the sudden quietness from the bustling, well-populated streets. Like a river rock that looks boring and simple, but when you open it there are gems on the inside, colorful and shiny. He opened the door carefully and poked his head in. The inside did not reveal a hidden gem like you might find from a river rock. The walls were bare of any color, wallpaper having torn in some places. It felt slightly cold, with the somber buzzing of some overhead fans. It was different from what Jimin had described, but Taehyung thought the somber chic theme could work. He found it especially odd that customers walked right into the kitchen. He scanned the room quickly until his eyes landed on a tall, silver-haired man who was standing there with a stoic and serious expression on his side-profile.

“So hot,” Taehyung whispered to himself. The man turned sharply to look at him, his stony face melting away into utter confusion before returning to his previous appearance.

“Get in here,” hot guy said, voice rich like hot chocolate. “And use the front door next time, will you?”

“Front door? Wait, what? Me?” Blubbering mess he was, he did as he was told and did nothing else, frozen from intimidation. Hot guy raised his eyebrow at him.

“Well? What are you standing around for? You want something to eat or what?”

Taehyung, unable to speak, ungracefully shoved the sweaty folder towards the gorgeous man. He took the stained folder gingerly and didn’t make any indications that he was going to open it.

“Uh.” Hot guy’s shoulders turned rigid, eyebrows furrowing even deeper and ears growing redder by the second. Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut in fear and figured he needed to blurt out something, anything because he thought the man in front of him was going to explode in anger.

“I-um-wantoworkhere-ifthat’sok?”

There was no reply. Taehyung hesitantly opened one of his eyes to peek and see if he made things worse but on the contrary. He was met with widened eyes that looked, despite hard furrowed eyebrows, soft? And all the redness Taehyung saw from earlier was looking to be very concentrated on smooth cheeks. Was hot-serious guy…blushing?

“Oh! Oh, thank goodness you’re not a customer. Oh, that was close.” He gave a relieved sigh and cupped his own face with one of his hands. “Yeah, yeah sure. I’ll ask the boss. Why don’t you take a seat?” He motioned towards the front of the house, with tables for customers, and walked away with Taehyung’s hopes for the new PS4 pinched between his fingers.

Puzzled by the sudden change in behavior, Taehyung rapidly shook his head back and forth. He couldn’t ponder the subject for very long anyway since he was arrested by a great view of the ass attached to the man disappearing into another room.

“Working here would be my best idea yet,” Taehyung whispered to himself.

He almost immediately took it back when said boss came out of the kitchen with the most sour looking face he’d ever seen anyone wear. Except for his mom’s kitten when it was bath time. He was tall, brooding and extremely intimidating so when he first spoke, Taehyung was very surprised by the feathery sweetness in his voice when he said:

“I’m the owner, Taekwoon. When can you start?”

“U-um…Now?”

“Good. This is Ravi, our manager. He will train you. Taehyung, right?”

“Yessir”

“Go change. Ravi will take care of you.”

He looked over and saw hot-mentor-guy Ravi smiling gently at him. Yup, best decision ever. If all the guys looked like that here, summer would definitely be worth it. As Taehyung followed his new hot-ass mentor to the lockers, he vaguely wondered where Jimin was.

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Yoongi comes in a little late for his shift, with sleepy eyes and the signs of a pillow on his soft mint green hair. He stops short when he sees a new guy. He is dressed in the uniform, with crisp black slacks, a tucked white ruffle shirt and a black tie, but Yoongi is sure he has never seen someone this smiley in this shop before. Maybe only that time Wonshik smacked the cup of tea in front of his first actual customer so hard he actually spilled half of the drink and apologized profusely to the customer. She was quite gracious about it, and he gave her a charming smile, which immediately made her leave and never come back. She’d been a regular customer too. But then again, charm is not what their customers are looking for. In many ways, his job suited him perfectly, when he had no charms to speak of and he could get paid to be bitchy in customer service.

The Golden Boys are nowhere to be seen, so he assumes carpooling to work now means they stop for food at every single convenience store on the way there, nevermind that they work at a place that makes food. Yoongi does, however, go to the lockers to change into his work uniform and finds that the new guy is following him. Yoongi makes his taciturn introduction with a frown and a small nod before turning back to get ready.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung! You work here too?” Yoongi just stares, still too sleepy to attempt human interaction, but it doesn’t seem to matter, because Taehyung chatters happily away. “Anyway, I’m so excited, I only started working today. I’m so scared of messing up…the boss looks so scary.” Yoongi snorts and Taehyung finally stops to look at him. “What did you say your name was?”

“Yoongi. My maid name is Suga, though, so don’t call me by my real name while I’m on the clock.”

“OOOOH, do I get a maid name too? Ravi never told me about that.”

“Ravi is Wonshik’s maid name. We all have one, except for the boss. Jungkook, Kookie. Sanghyuk, Hyuk. They’re the Golden Boys. Don’t go near them.” It was great advice, except Taehyung was deep in thought, trying to come up with his maid name.

“I guess I can just be V, like the guy from that graphic novel…do you know it, Yoongi?”

“That’s lame.”

“You’re right. I should give it a cuter meaning. Oh! Maybe V because of how adorable I look when I do this.” Taehyung holds up his hands doing peace signs and puffs his cheeks like a squirrel.

Yoongi doesn’t react to him but manages a slow, sleepy blink.

“Let's go, V. We can snag something from the kitchen before we open if we sneak now that Taek is busy.”

“Kay!”

As the new kid skips happily away, Yoongi wonders how this guy even got hired. Just. How.

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“I don’t understand, Yoongi,” Taehyung pouted at him, fiddling with the ruffled ends of his dress shirt. “The customers didn’t seem to like my wiggly butt dances.”

Wonshik stopped typing up orders on the digital monitor to guardedly raise his hand in the air. “I kinda liked them.” At the same time, he wonders if he forgot to mention something to the kid…ah, it will come back.

“Ditto. And keep doing that nose thing,” Sanghyuk smirked at Jungkook. “I could sense Hongbin’s puny little hands scrunching in sync when you do. An impressive skill, that,” he chortled.

Taehyung leaned over to Yoongi and asked who Hongbin was. He answered by shaking his head, to which Taehyung mouthed he’s dead?! but it went unseen by the rest, so he left it at that, not wanting to disturb the peace of the deceased.

“We could use it for The Operation. Shit’s gold,” Jungkook said wagging his eyes in Sanghyuk’s direction as he passed carrying five trays of dishes effortlessly out of the kitchen.

“What nose thing?” Taehyung’s face wrinkled in confusion.

“That. Stop that.”

“Nonsense, Yoongi! It’s an asset we need!” Sanghyuk followed quickly after Jungkook with his own multiple trays of beverages.

Everyone was too loud. The sheer increase in volume in the kitchen from all the yelling back and forth was getting on Yoongi’s nerves. Before he could lose it, he went back to stuffing some warm bread into a basket for his table but then remembered being annoyed was actually a good state to be in as a server here.

“But, but Jimin told me the customers would love it. I even tried shooting hearts out of my armpits for comedic effect. See?” Yoongi looked at him, unimpressed, as Taehyung recreated his cute shenanigans.

“What a winner, this one,” he mumbled sarcastically under his breath pointing his thumb in Taehyung’s direction. “Did you train the new guy at all, Wonshik?”

“I am your manag —,”

“And who’s Jimin?” Yoongi interrupted Wonshik’s burst of fragile confidence and glanced pointedly at Taehyung.  

“Your baker?” Taehyung pulled out his phone to show Yoongi his screensaver. He glanced over casually to humor the new kid and did a double-take. “You know, pale skin, rose gold hair, he’s about yea high, got thighs that’ll crush the sides of your hea—”

At that, Yoongi slapped his hand first over Taehyung’s screen, then over Taehyung’s face, pursing his lips with wide eyes, before briskly walking off looking faintly alarmed. As he disappeared towards the front of house, Wonshik came over and looked to satiate his curiosity only to come across Taehyung’s semi-naked BFF on the screen, which only generated more confusion since it had always been Taekwoon handling the food for the most part.

“This Jimin guy definitely doesn’t work here,” Wonshik says nonchalantly, clearly unaffected. “If he’s at a maid cafe too, then he’s probably at Hakyeon’s Little Kawaii Service Cafe across the street.”

Taehyung’s eyes bulged out dramatically at the realization that he just might have applied for work at the wrong place. It made sense. The dull decor. The outfits. The blank faces. Jimin was going think he bailed out on their Summer Adventure Together. Oh, Jimin. No wonder he hadn’t seen him at all. He would have to tell him about it later over the phone and beg to be forgiven. Taehyung stared at Wonshik and thought of all the hot men that he currently worked with. Surely there was no harm in staying. He’d still get paid no matter where he was. Jimin would forgive him, especially if he could see what his co-workers looked like. With his phone still out, he snapped a quick picture of Wonshik. Wonshik opened his mouth to protest, but Taehyung blurted out it’s my life insurance, and quickly scurried away to the opposite, safe, end of the kitchen to send the picture to Jimin, along with his apology essay.

Amidst Taehyung’s confusing statement, Wonshik eyed him suspiciously with the intention to pursue and question him when someone entered the kitchen.

“Hey, Wonshik.” The greeting came from a deep-voiced beauty walking towards them. The subtle drift from the window blew his dark locks away from his perfectly structured face. His skin shone lightly, like a woman on those skin care commercials, and Taehyung could swear his warm gaze was melting the butter off the croissants he was supposed to be serving right now. He moved in slow motion, and Taehyung’s heart skipped a beat, time slowing down so he could take in every detail of this hunkofaman.

Wonshik was taken by surprise by the sudden entrance, so all he could manage was a raspy, "hey, Hongbin," before the gorgeous supermodel turned to him with a tilted head.

Taehyung looked back and forth between Wonshik and Hongbin, noting that his manager too looked absolutely dazed.

“Oh,” Taehyung said in awe. “You’re Hongbin. I get it now. You died and came back to save me. Like Gandalf.”

Before Hongbin could respond, there was another quick sound of a phone camera shutter.

————-　❈　————- 

“Taetae! I thought you were planning to come hand in your application today! I told you I’ve already put in a good word for you, so don’t fret so much about the interview. Our Summer Adventure Together awaits! The PS4 is going to be farther out of reach the more you wait, you know?”

“Jimin, listen, don’t be mad…but I got hired at the cafe right across the street from you instead.” There was a gasp. “J-Jimin? You there?” There was a beat of silence.

“You traitor! You left me!”

“No-no, it was an honest mistake!”

“Deserted and abandoned by my best friend!”

“Chim, please! I know we talked about working in the same place for summer, but I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear!”

“I’m playin’. Work is work. Broke college student life, yada-yada. It would have been nice to work together, but we can still get a PS4, right? How’d you manage to mess our locations up, huh?”

“Well…the map you drew for me was kinda unclear.”

“I worked hard on that map! Took me three days to make that for you!”

“It was smudged with unicorn glitter frosting.”

“I suppose you could say I worked hard on that map quite literally…But I used a good quality baking sheet!”

“Okay, I’m glad you’re not super mad, because I actually have something to show you. I sent you some pics. You see them yet?”

“Tae, all I saw was a five-minute scroll of what looked like a dissertation on our friendship. I didn’t get to the pics. You don’t have another weird mole, right? Don’t send it to my mom this time, please. There’s no need to scar her further.”

“No, Jimin! Wait…she didn’t like my elephant mole? Aw, but…No! Focus! It’s my coworkers. Chim, they are so hot. Like, all of them. But I guess I didn’t need to send the pictures if you forgave me so easily.”

“Who said you were forgive—WOW. Yeah, okay. They’re hot. You’re on paparazzi duty now, Tae.”

“Yes. Hot. But on the floor, they’re all kinda…serious. It’s weird. This place is nothing like how you described your coffee shop. No one reacts to my cuteness like you said, and the decor is drab. They need some serious reality TV show to help remodel.”

“Hmm. Remember Seokjin and Jaehwan? I bet I could get them over there before their shift and help out. They are unhealthily obsessed with those redecorating shows; they’d probably love to get their hands on a project.”

————-———————-—————————-———————-——————— 

THE FATE OF TAEKWOON’S CAFE RESTS IN SEOKJIN AND JAEHWAN’S HANDS. WILL ALL BE SAVED? IS THERE EVEN SOMETHING to SAVE? WHAT DID WONSHIK’S TRAINING EVEN CONSIST OF? WILL JIMIN’S NAKED TORSO BECOME A PERMANENT FIXTURE IN THE MIND OF A MIN YOONGI? WILL TAEHYUNG BE ABLE TO CONCENTR—DAT ASS THO! (Tae, pls let the authors finish their rhetoric narrative, thank you)

… TUNE IN AGAIN NEXT WEDNESDAY ON ANOTHER EPISODE OF… MAID WARS!

[5hfanfiction]

Parting Shot Episode 4: Shoulder to Shoulder

Camila

The moment our english class came to a boring conclusion, I left. I didn’t wait for Normani or Lauren to file out behind me, and barely caught the back end of the homework assignment before I was out the door and down the hall. Students gradually started to filter out of each side of the flanking doorways, flooding into whatever given airspace the school had to offer with a chorus of avid chatter.

“Camila!” Normani’s voice pierced the growing chaos. “Mila, what’s the rush?! Wait up!”

Ignoring her, I dipped around a broad shouldered athlete bearing a letter jacket and continued through the crowd. The exit into the back yard came into view, sunlight suddenly playing the role of air and calling me out of necessity. A quick glance over my shoulder told me that both Normani and Lauren had either lost track of me or given up, both of which accomplished what I set out to. Pushing through the doors, a rush of cool fall air picked up on the breeze, bringing with it a wave of relief.

On the first day, every student was busy with their own thing. Being a senior in a small high school nestled in the heart of a conservative town meant everyone had their thing whether it was a plausible reason to complain or simply an excuse for attention. I looked around, suddenly lonely and very much regretting giving Lauren the four-line prompt. Metathesiophobia was the fear of change, which in humans, was nothing but evolutionary. I knew that over time, man had become comfortable in concept of routine, yet it never held true for them as it did for me.

There were five cigarettes left in the pack I kept tucked away in the side pocket of my bag. I hadn’t visited the local variety store for months, hadn’t flirted with the middle aged Pakistani immigrant behind the counter for a box of the nicotine wonders ever since Lauren had insisted I stop. A part of me did it for the euphoria, another did it so one day my voice could be as enticing as hers. It never seemed to match the level of allure that she managed to accomplish though; everything I did, I did because of her.

Drawing my red-rimmed lighter to the end of the stick, I watched the fresh line of smoke waft up and carry away with the breeze. My first puff was accompanied with the signature dizzying sensation followed by the uncomfortable locking up of my lower jaw. Exhaling, the cloud of second hand that drifted into the air made me feel no less than a dragon, the stress from whatever I had been worrying about now washed away by the idea that I was the be-all end-all of mythical beasts.

The sensation was whisked away when the doors slammed open, and underneath the frame stood Lauren in all her glory. Eyes flashing, feet shoulder-width apart and chest heaving with concern, she found me leaning against the outer brick wall and exhaled audibly. “Camz, what the fuck?”

“Sorry.” I shrugged, sliding down so I was kneeling awkwardly against the wall. “I guess it’s just stress. The first day of school is always filled with unadulterated anxiety, isn’t it?”

Migrating to my side, Lauren pressed one knee to the concrete and placed her hand lightly on my shoulder. “Stop with that.” She commanded, her other hand reaching out and taking my active wrist. “You’ve quit Camz, keep it that way. You’ve also got class to go to, with me.”

“I’ll go tomorrow.” I muttered, pulling my hand away. Before I got the chance to walk away, Lauren had me in her grasp again, this time one hand had landed on the back strap of my bag, the other on my waist. They both yanked backwards, and I felt myself half stumble, half fall against her. Coughing smoke into her face, I made a sincere, yet not at all physically demanding attempt to pull away.

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.” Lauren reached into the back draped against her side and pulled out the sheet of notebook paper I had left on her desk before my abrupt exit. “What’s the deal with this? Are you afraid of change? What do you think is going on here, that things are ever going to be different between us?”

“That’s just writing.” I mumbled, taking another drag of the cigarette and blowing the residual smoke straight from my lungs into her face. “It means nothing.”

“Stop.” Lauren grabbed the butt and hurled it to the ground, crushing whatever was left with the heel of her black converse. I frowned, thankful that most of the good stuff had been smoked before she got her hands on it. “Writing rarely means nothing, you know that. Anything coming from you in particular is bound to mean something, something deep. Now quit acting like one of the lost boys and tell me what’s going on.”

“Who’s Lucy?”

Lauren frowned, tightening her grip on my waist. “A girl.” She answered softly, turning me around and stepping closer. “Who right now, is nothing but a concept to me. You Camz, are so much more than that. More than just a concept.” Her lips grew near, the hand on my waist remaining there, the other hand trailing up to rest against my cheek. “You’re always going to be more than that, and whoever I end up with, whatever girl or guy I find in the end is going to accept you as so much more than a concept.”

Her words were beautiful, but when brought to life meant very little. There was no reality either of us could write, no prompt we could conjure up that would make her ideals true. “I’m know that one day, I’m going to lose you to someone.” I told her, lowering my voice and clearing my lungs. “But I can’t let that day be today… or tomorrow. I can’t Lauren, I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Lauren’s arms wound around me, our bodies pressing tight together and her embrace emanating a familiar warmth. I closed my eyes, balling my fists into the fabric of her leather jacket and holding myself still. “There’s a world of rain and bruises that you’ve turned your back on, and one you can’t bear to look forward to for fear of it catching up to you.” She created a touch of space between us, just enough to reach up and cup my face in her hands. “I know that I’m an escape from those memories, so you’re not going to lose me. Not now, not ever.”

Covering her hands in my own, I drew blood on my lower lip with an aggressive bite. “I know I can’t ask you to be that for me Lauren.”

“Then don’t ask.” The sunlight streamed through the parting clouds, lighting the green in her eyes to the point where it was almost alien. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against my cheek, lingering for few seconds before crumpling what was left of the notebook page in her hand and stuffing it into her back pocket. There was something stiff about her movement, and the moment I looked up she had lifted her hand and brushed her fingers against the small wound on my mouth to soothe the pain. “Let’s go back inside and finish this day. I don’t know about you, but all I want to do is for the sun to set so we can go home, watch TV and snuggle.”

I shivered at the heart-warming thought, granting her a feeble nod and letting her take my hand. “Thank you.” I mumbled, retuning to the door and crushing what was left of the cigarette with the ball of my foot.

“I need you too Camz.” Lauren told me moments before taking the handle to the double doors. “My mystery, my thriller novel… No soul on earth could be that for me the way you can.”

***

I laid eyes on Lucy in the cafeteria during lunch. She was visibly shy, her shoulders somewhat hunched forward and eyes constantly on the ground. As someone with the body of a thirteen year old boy with an overdeveloped ass, the role of high school wallflower was anything but unfamiliar to me. Bagging a small sandwich and a modest apple, I headed to our small circle of friends, seating myself between Lauren and Dinah.

“So we’ve decided to use one large photo on the front cover of every issue for this month, hopefully that helps to bring in more viewers. Grab their attention right from the get-go, you know?” Ally Brooke was half leaned over the lunch table, eyes sparkling as she described the most eventful morning of us all. “Camila’s done the most incredible inaugural article, and it can only go up from there. Isn’t this exciting?”

“Not as exciting as Penelope Steiner swallowing one of the elastics in her teeth and having to take a rush trip to the dentist.” Dinah snorted, taking a comical bite of her chicken taquito. “Talk about your eventful first day of sophomore year huh?”

“What were you doing poking around the business of a back-brace wearing sophomore with the world’s most Jewish last name?” Lauren questioned, folding one leg up on the bench and leaning against my shoulder with a lazy smile. Down on the table she had blown through her own ham sandwich, and was now fiddling with a unopened package of mint gum.

“You turn a corner onto the fourth floor and it’s a whole new world of entertainment.” Dinah sighed, tilting her head back dramatically. “I made a wrong turn trying to get to the new library they put in this summer— speaking of which, have you two bookworms found your way there yet?”

“Yeah, I was just about to ask that as well.” Normani broke mid-sip from a tall water bottle and looked to us both. “They’ve got a whole whack of new books, and a bestselling authors night where they’re actually having someone who was successful in the industry come in and talk to students. It’s a big deal.” She winked at me. “At least a big deal for the freshly inaugurated preteens who build their dreams off of the success of others. You and Lauren are more angsty, lone wolf types.”

“Angsty lone wolves.” Ally nodded, humming in thoughtful content. “Now that’s a title that suits the two of you.”

I glanced down at Lauren, who was far too invested in playing with the foil on her gum wrapper than acknowledging the conversation. “We’re not that angsty.” I argued, my tone of voice trying hard to make it seem like I somewhat believed in my claim. I didn’t.

“You’re the two love children of Holden Caufield and Avril Lavigne.” Dinah’s hand landed hard on my shoulder, the girl using me as leverage to stand and gather her garbage. “Peace out ladies, I’m off to flirt with the captain of the girl’s volleyball team and weasel my way into a tryout. Duty calls.”

“Duty is right.” Lauren echoed quietly, her voice only reaching me. Sitting up straight again, she swiped a fry away from Normani and chewed with a subtle smirk. Only a matter of seconds passed before Dinah made a swift u-turn and let one of her softcover notebooks collide with the back of Lauren’s head. "Ow.” She muttered, rubbing the sore spot.

“Don’t talk back to me Lauren Michelle.” Dinah snapped, her voice layered with childish sass. “You just spent an entire first period flirting your way into the new girl'a pants and outing yourself to the entire school. You’ve got no right to start talking to me about duty.”

Across the table, Ally audibly spat out a modest mouthful of cheese tortellini and started to hack violently, grabbing her bottle of water. "I’m sorry, Lauren you did what now?”

“I’ve been pretty bad.” Lauren’s elbows pressed down into the edge of the table as Dinah stalked away. Her upper arm brushed mine, a minute portion of the girls weight feeding into me again. “Not an apology by the way, just an acknowledgement.”

“So who was this girl?” Ally sounded as intrigued as Normani had during class.

“I’ll tell you during Biology.” Lauren squeezed my arm gently, rising from the bench. “Ally, you and I have got to get to the labs before all the good frogs are gone.” I watched her leave, tossing out the empty wrappers from her lunch and throwing me a kind smile over her shoulder. There was something eclectic about the cool, all-calm demeanour Lauren strutted the halls with, her confidence superseding my own by a long shot.

"Hey, are you okay?” Normani was the only remaining member of our table, her hand landing gently on my wrist.

“Yeah.” I nodded to her. “Why?”

“You’ve been sitting there for the last fifteen minutes and have said less than ten words.” Normani shuffled closer, her dark hair sleek and washed with pristine care. “Also you ran out of English this morning like your pants were on fire and beyond the double doors was an ice cold lake. What’s going on?”

“I’m okay Mani… really.” I smiled to my friend. “I should get going though… calculus calls.”

“Can I walk you there?” Normani got up with me, hurling a balled up wrapper from a sandwich halfway across the room and letting it land neatly in the trashcan. “I’ve got free period and no homework to procrastinate with yet so I’m pretty much all yours.”

I nodded, walking shoulder to shoulder with her through the hallways. “Thanks Mani.” I kept my eyes down. “I love company.”

“I’m familiar with you.” The girl thread her fingers through her hair, fluffing it up and somehow making the salon quality job she did look even more perfect. “So what’s the 411 on Mr. Hunky Mendes? You thinking he’s finally going to make the move this year?”

“What?” I looked over at her, playing idly with the strap of my bag that was pressed diagonally across my chest. “No, what? I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

Normani tossed her head back with a laugh. “If you joined The Monarchs this year and made it to the top of the pyramid you’d be a shoe-in for the position of Canadian quarterback’s arm candy.” She continued. “Monarch butterfly Cabello and Wolf Pack Mendes. That would be one for the yearbook.”

“I don’t see that happening.” I muttered, dodging the forceful swinging open of a classroom door with a swift side-step. “Not unlike most other seniors at this school, I’d like to get through the year with my sanity still intact.”

***

The following two periods of the day passed in a dull grey manner. At the ring of the final bell, I followed the awkward flood of students out through the halls and to my pitifully empty locker, setting a few books onto the top shelf before slamming it closed and clicking the lock in place. A voice behind me made my entire body jump, high and far too perky for my current mood.

“Camila!” A girl with curly blonde hair was cradling a inch or two thick stack of papers in her arms. She wore a dark red -white cheerleading outfit, the word “monarchs” embroidered directly across the chest. I fought the urge to let my eyes roll to the back of my head and patted my back pocket to ensure there was at least one cigarette at the ready.

“Hi.” I put on a fake smile. “What’s up Courtney?”

“Cheerleading tryouts!” She squeaked, the sound unpleasant at best. “In the gym, tomorrow after school, 4pm to 5:30. Normani Kordei mentioned that you wanted to give it a shot for your senior year, and I know we’d love to have you.” The girl held out one of the sheets of paper to me, the front covered in cheesy clipart and neon colours, bordered in a series of black butterflies.

Taking the page, I made a mental note to scold Normani to my wit’s end before giving the preppy cheerleader a kind smile and watching her bounce away to the next slender female victim a few lockers down. The sheet of paper was quickly crushed in my hand before I re-opened my locker and tossed it to the corner to let it die.

“So who’s my blonde competition?”

I turned around, a small grin on my face at the sight of an end-of-the-day Lauren, tired and clearly ready to return home. “Tryouts for the Monarchs start tomorrow.” I replied, turning back to my locker and fiddling with the lock. “I’m not going to do it.”

“Why not?” The girl leaned casually against the adjacent lockers, one hand wrapped around the strap of her back, the other in her jean pocket. “You’ve got the body of a cheerleader, no doubt about that.”

“And you’ve got the body of a pop-star, but I don’t see you moving out to LA to audition for the X-Factor.”

“Hey, you know I don’t believe in singing competitions.” Lauren’s shoulder blades touched the lockers, her body angling out towards the flow of traffic that was clogging the hallways. “What right does a middle aged British asshole have to tell you whether or not you can follow your dreams? If you and I want to be stars, then we’ll be stars.”

“You love Gordon Ramsey though.” I glanced at her. “Isn’t he just as British and just as big of an asshole?”

“There’s a right way to cook Camz.” She smiled. “There’s no right way to sing. Have you heard yourself in the shower recently?”

I shook my head lightly, closing my locker for the second time and pulling out my phone. “So do you want to head home? Where are the other girls?”

“Dinah and Ally are hanging around the quad, being reckless. Normani had a dance class across town.” Lauren fell in step we me as we headed through the hallways. “I need to work tonight for a few hours, Mat is still away with his pregnant wife and we’ve got a whole stack of paperwork to sort and distribute. You should head home though, but if you order dinner save me some this time.”

“You don’t usually work after school so soon in the year.” I commented, eyes trained on the floor. “I don’t even start until next week.”

“I know Camz, I’m sorry.” Her arm looped around my shoulders, hand resting light against my chest.

“But we might as well get a head start on the bills for this winter.”

She wasn’t wrong, Lauren’s sense of responsibility was always going to precede my own. I walked through the idea of me retuning to a cold empty house and spending the evening alone, and shuddered. “I’ll just wait for you. I want a chance to check out the new library anyways, I can hang out there for a few hours.”

“Are you sure?” Lauren turned a corner to one of the school’s abundant management offices and pulled a thick cluster of keys from the front pocket of her bag. “The first day is always tiring, you may feel better if you head home and nap or something.”

“What, do you not want me around?” I teased looking to the side of her head and catching a glimpse of that decadent profile.

“Stop, I always want you around.” Lauren tucked her arms around me in a loose hug before putting pressure on my ribs and eliciting a ticklish squeak. I wriggled away from her, a child-like pout on my face as she approached a confidential locked room and inserted a silver key into the old fashioned lock. “I’ll text you when I’m finished.” She nodded. “Stay nearby, and if you leave make sure you tell me. I don’t want to be here a six pm tonight searching the campus for you only to discover you’re at home asleep.”

“It happened once, let it go.” I rolled my eyes, turning to continue down the hall. Lauren’s gaze was on me as I left, and I turned over my shoulder a few paces later to see she was only just dipping behind the closed door.

***

The school library had until the present fall, been equally as drab as the rest of the school. I discovered on the walk over that new space had been stolen from the teacher’s lounge, the lounge moved to the old workout space and all sweaty weight lifting now done at Foxcastle’s only resident gym. Inside it was virtually empty, brand new bookshelves lined the walls, and clustered between them were a series of wood finished study spaces and oversized armchairs. Setting my bag down in one, I embraced the lack of other bodies in the room and made myself at home.

Ernest Hemingway had always been a favourite for me. His style often grabbed hold of my interest, and for a reason I had no intention of exploring further than I already had. The device in my back pocket vibrated against me, and on the screen flashed Lauren’s name followed by a smug message.

Lauren: Check the front pocket of your bag. Left a gift xo

In the designated pocket was a slip 11of paper, narrow ruled with light blue lines and a red margin. Unfolding it, I found that scrawled on the page was a small paragraph written in Lauren’s signature mature penmanship and personal favourite green ink.

A story about family ties and sibling rivalry. Two young men in a bustling metropolis, one a sloppy philanthropist, the other an imposter, battle the complications associated with being an identical twin. The role of technological evolution in the modern world allows them to learn about independence and the importance of being totally honest.

Despite the fatigue from an emotional rollercoaster of a day, I smiled. Setting the brief writing prompt down on the arm of my chair I set off once more to seek out The Old Man and the Sea , tucked away against the back end of the seventh shelf. It was a pleasantly new copy, the spine cracking as I opened it. Returning to the soft armchair, I pulled out my yellow legal pad and arranged a pen, the book and my paper on my lap in the most space conscious way possible.

Eric and Michael Hamilton are a set of red haired, green-eyed twins raised in the heart of New York City by an ailing single mother. I began, taking a stray pencil from the bottom of my bag and scribbling away. A successful software mogul, Eric uses his finances to adopt the persona of a self-appointed yet sloppy philanthropist, while Michael feeds off the fortune from his good looks and impressive confidence.

“Ernest Hemingway.” A weathered voice just over my shoulder scared me silly. Looking back I came face to face with my second period english teacher, a set of small frames perched on her nose and dark eyes focused down on the book in my lap. “The Old Man and the Sea, a tale of great psychological depth and an author nearing the end of his career. Hemingway liked to get to the point. He always had a thing for the facets of universal life.”

“I like to think he understood human suffering.” I shifted, suddenly feeling awkward at the prospect of having such a casual conversation with a teacher after hours. “I’ve always been soft spot for people like that.”

“The Old Man and the Sea, For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Iceberg Method… Hemingway spent a lot of his career fighting to earn back the respect of his audience. He was a journalist to begin with you know, not unlike yourself.“ Her voice was full of sincerity, aged and with a stronger Jamaican accent than when she spoke in class. I shifted my body to get a better look at the woman, suddenly far more intrigued than before. "His writing began to stray further and further away from journalism however, and with good result. I like to believe that it loosened the old fashioned taboo on the subject, but that’s just me.“

”I’m not a journalist.” I said back, cringing at the thought that the school paper was the badge of honour the school had bore on me. I loved Ally Brooke to death, but had never managed to match the enthusiasm she bestowed upon her sophomore volunteers. She had elected me, the quiet senior cloaked in cigarette smoke and bad decisions to write and edit a majority of the more pressing articles. Naturally I did it in complete silence, acting more as Ally’s personal ghostwriter than a voice of my own.

“You work for the paper do you not?” She sounded amused. “Camila Cabello, I’ve read many of your articles from last year. You’ve been quite the literary saviour this school has needed, I recall being impressed.“

I could tell from the tone and quality of this woman’s vocal dictionary that she had years of unrivalled experience. When she laid eyes on the writing I had crafted based on Lauren’s gift, I became confident that said experience was now going to be aimed at my own work. I decided for the first time in my life I’d embrace the pair of eyes that weren’t Lauren’s. “Maybe you could take a look at what I’ve written.” I suggested, lifting my messy sheet of paper and holding it out. “My best friend, she and I like to exchange writing prompts like this to get away from the real world and stimulate creativity. We’ve been doing it for a while now, it’s one of our favourite pastimes.”

The woman took hold of the page and began to scan, taking no more than a few mere seconds to look back at me with a set of withered, impressed eyes. “You’re very talented Ms. Cabello, and for this spark of creativity your friend is as well. What is her name again?”

“Lauren Jauregui.” I told the teacher carefully. “She’s in your second period English class. We both are.”

“Cabello, Jauregui.” Wilcox handed the sheet of paper back to me. “Two names of a unique descent we don’t often see around these parts. “How do you think Eric and Michael’s story will end?”

Tapping the end of the pencil in my hand against my bottom lip, I studied the messy lettering. Writing under pressure had never been a personal strength, yet as the experienced teacher stood looming over my shoulder, the need to perform seemed to be the last thing on my mind. “I think that after being treated their entire life as two halves of the same whole, the twins end up learning that genetics doesn’t dictate the way of the heart. The decisions we make, the people we choose to become are aspects of our lives that evolve into our own teachers and students. Lessons learned in our own subconscious minds…”

The woman shifted at my shoulder. “I’m sure you have many a lesson locked away in that mind Ms. Cabello.” She replied, a lilt in her voice. “Subconscious or otherwise.”

Actively choosing to ignore the premise, I continued to speak as I wrote. “The boys are forced to come together in the wake of their mother’s death to keep the suits and ties of Wall Street from stripping away the fortune they were due to inherit. The loss of their only childhood caregiver teaches the twins a lesson in redefining success through honesty, the fragility of masculinity, and the importance of lifting a worthy opponent as a friend and brother.”

“Redefining success?” Over my shoulder, Wilcox sounded impressed. “Not unlike Santiago’s own lesson.”

“I like to believe the marlin taught us all a little about struggle, defeat and death.” I agreed, setting my pencil down.

“Do you think you would ever write this book?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you know what you would you call it?”

“Shoulder to Shoulder.” I replied after a brief moment of thought. “Like Fred Astaire says, a heart beats in heaven when two people in love dance cheek to cheek. Family and friends are meant to stand shoulder to shoulder.”

The woman seemed satisfied at my reply, and for some foreign reason I found myself glad. “A fascinating view on the narrative and an excellent taste in music. I look forward to seeing what the future has in store for you this year Ms. Cabello She took her leave a few moments later, bidding me a kind goodnight and yet another promise to keep a close eye on my spilled ink. The clock struck eight pm, and an abrasively loud alarm forced me to find my way back to Lauren. The wave of concern and jealousy that had taken over my first morning back at school denoted a sour start, but the longer I stared at the sheet of paper I had unabashedly scribbled my story on, the better I felt.

“Oh I love to go out fishing…” I hummed softly, walking through the empty halls and letting the motion activated lights above flicker on for me as if it was a high end catwalk. The office Lauren worked in came into view. “River… or a creek. but it doesn’t thrill me… dancing ch—“ The door opened with a start, and I stepped back in surprise.

“Was that you singing?” Lauren questioned, closing it behind her and inserting the key back into the handle. She looked around, clearly trying to pin anyone else in the hall.

“No.” I lied with a shrug, taking her arm. “Lets go home. I’m going to help you pick out an outfit for your date with the new girl.”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I got into the Hemingway again.” I retrieved the crumpled half-sheet of paper from my pocket and handed it to her. Lauren took a long smiling look, looping her other arm around my shoulder as the two of us left the walls of the school and stepped out into the night.

***

[miraculoussideblog]

Operation Lovebirds Chapter 3

@insanitysbloomings‘ (aka @insanitysscribblings) birthday fic continues... 

Summary: Fed up with her friends refusing to confess their feeling for each other, Alya enlist the help of Nino to bring them together. The plan? Fake a relationship. What could possibly go wrong? (hint: everything)  

Chapters: [1] [2] [You are Here]

[AO3]

Chapter Three: The Crack

Nino fiddled with his bowtie several times before tossing it to the side. Adrien was out doing Lord knows what, so he was on his own with his attire. Nino sighed and changed out of his button down and opted for a plain dark blue t-shirt and grey blazer with his skinny jeans. He may not be a model, but he could clean up nice.

“Why are you putting so much effort into this?” He asked his reflection.

“We’ve got to treat this like a real date,” Alya insisted.

The two went back at Nino’s house after the disaster of a picnic and planned their next move. They officially announced on social media their relationship hashtagging it DJWifi (which was better than #LadyBubble.) Now they had to be “on” all the time, which meant more hand holding and flirting, much to Nino’s dismay. His feelings for Alya were not backing down anytime soon and he knew this would blow up in their faces.

“We have to keep them off our scent. They’ll know something's up if we keep asking them on double dates.”

“Why can’t we just say we’re going out and then don’t.”

“Because, if I’m not posting pics and live blogging every minute of it, nobody will believe this relationship is real.”

“So we’re going on a real fake date?”

“Exactly.”

“I have a bad feeling about this…”

Nino checked the clock. He needed to pick up Alya soon. She, like always, tried to micromanage every minute of their “date,” but Nino insisted if they were going out on their own they’d do it his way. His plan was no plan and that was the best plan.

 After one final check in the mirror and a dab of cologne, Nino said goodbye to his family and walked over to Alya’s place to pick her up.  He couldn’t tell if he was nervous or excited to spend alone time with Alya. Yes, they’ve been alone together dozens of times over the past three years. But something about this time was different. He wasn’t a boy anymore, they weren’t joking around and squabbling over getting Adrienette together, they were just two people enjoying each other’s company.

Nino smiled as he reached Alya’s apartment. He straightened his jacket and with a deep breath pressed the buzzer. “Hello,” a gruff voice said on the other end.

“Hey O-man, it’s Nino, I’m here to pick up Alya.”

The door opened, Alya’s father, Otis, standing as tall as the door frame, glared down at Nino. He silently stepped to the side to let Nino pass and closed the door behind him. “Have a seat.” He gestured to the couch.

The tension in the air grew thick. Normally Otis wasn’t like this with Nino, but with Operation Lovebirds in motion, no one could know what they were up to.

Nino sat on the couch, Otis sat across from him without breaking eye contact. “Where’s--”

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” Otis crossed his arms over his chest. His face remained stern and furious.

Oh shit, he was dead serious.

“Nothing...no...I mean yes, I like your daughter.” he could barely form a coherent sentence. “We--”

“Relax Dad.” Alya entered the living room. Today she wore black jeans and a bright pink ruffled blouse. Her hair was pulled back by a black headband with a pink rose. He looked stunning. “We’ll be fine, Nino let’s go. We won’t be out too late.” She grabbed Nino’s arm and dragged him away from her father’s clutches.

Before Nino could reach the door, Otis’ large hand landed on his shoulder. “If you break my little girl’s heart again, I’ll feed you to my panther,” he whispered.

Again? Alya broke his.

“Got it,” he nodded before Alya pulled him out of his grasp.

The two made it outside of her safely. Nino glanced up one more time to see Otis staring at him from the balcony, sending shivers down his spine.

Alya gently took his hand, giving him a reassuring pat. “What’s the plan?

“I don’t know,” Nino shrugged. “Let’s see where the day takes us.”

The two strolled hand in hand down the streets of Paris, stopping at little shops here and there. Adrien and Marinette not being around watching their every move somehow made Nino more relaxed with Alya. They actually looked like a real couple.

“Let’s stop in here.” Nino pointed to the comic book shop. A sign outside the store read “Everything in the store buy one get one half off.”

“Oh my gosh,” Alya pulled three books from the shelves. “Majestia volumes one, two and three. I have all the comics on my phone, but holding the book is so surreal.” Her fingers traced over the cover of volume one. The light in her eyes as she flipped through the pages was entrancing. Nino couldn’t help but gaze at her in wonder.

She glanced at the price sticker and frowned. “I can only afford the two with the sale.” She hesitantly but back volume three. “Maybe next time.”

Seeing Alya happy, warmed his heart. He couldn’t bare to see her upset. Nino grabbed volume three back off the shelves. “I’ll get this for you, my treat.”

“Nino, don’t.” She tried to grab the book from his hand, but he held it high above his head. “Seriously, you don’t have to buy it for me.”

“I know I don’t have to.” Nino’s eyes locked with her’s. “I want to.”

Alya jumped once more time, reaching as high as she could to grab the book, but it was no use. “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pay you back one way or another.”

Nino’s lips curled into a slight smile. She was not going to give up easily. “Whatever you say.” He lowered the book down. “Do you want to check out or look around some more.”

“Let’s check out, I’m getting kind of hungry.” Alya headed towards the cash register, Nino followed. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something shiny on a display. While Alya was occupied Nino scanned the display until he found what he was looking for. He glanced over at Alya, talking to the cashier about her second favorite superhero and smiled. Maybe this would workout.

“Why are we here?” Alya crossed her arms over her chest. After the two ate lunch at a nearby diner, Nino took Alya to their final destination. She thought he’d take her somewhere special like the park or near the Eiffel Tower, she didn’t expect for him to bring her to the place where she fell for him.

“I like the zoo,” he shrugged. “It brings back good memories.”

“For you maybe, I remember getting chased by a herd of animals and getting locked in a cage with your all afternoon while my father almost ate Ladybug. Just too many bad memories.”

Nino paused, pushed his glasses into place and smiled. “Well then, I guess we’ll just have to make new ones.” He held out his hand; Alya rolled her eyes and took it.

“I’ve been here several times you know that right,” she said as the two viewed the animals. “There’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“I’ve been to the Eiffel tower several times since I was a baby and I never get tired of it. You of all people should know it’s not always about where you go, it’s about the company you keep.”

“When did you become so wise?” Alya smirked.

“Who knows,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I’ve been this way all along and you’ve been too preoccupied blogging and shipping our friends to notice.”

“Shut up,” she stuck out her tongue. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted her father’s favorite panther, LadyNoir (named after Paris’ favorite superheroes). “Let’s say hi to Lady.” She dragged him over to the cage. Nino stiffened at the sight of the large cat. “Bringing back bad memories?”

“Something like that,” he muttered.

Alya and Nino spent the rest of the afternoon viewing the the animals. Occasionally Nino would turn on music and narrate the animal’s actions. Alya hadn’t had this much fun with Nino in ages. He was right, it was about the company she kept. Nino was good company. A great friend. Whatever weird thing happened between them during their picnic last week must have been a fluke. This is how it should be.

“By the way.” Nino dug in his pocket. “I have something for you.” He pulled out a small plastic bag and dropped the content into Alya’s palm. Inside was a gold colored chain with a pendent shaped like Majestica’s logo.

For the first time in her life, Alya was speechless.

This was too much. Getting her the book was one thing, she planned to pay him back in full when she could, but jewelry brought their fake relationship to a whole new level. Maybe that was his plan, provide physical proof of their relationship to Marinette and Adrien, that had to be it. Nino was two steps ahead of her. Right?

“Do you mind” He took the chain from her palm. Alya lifted her hair off her shoulders,

“This is great,” Alya tried to fake enthusiasm. “Let’s get a pic, Marinette is going to love it. #bestboyfriendever #DJWifi.”

“No,” Nino stepped in closer, taking her phone out of her hand. “No social media, no hashtags, no Operation Lovebirds. Right now it’s about you and me.” Nino’s lowered his head and brushed his lips lightly against her’s.

Alya froze for a second, trying to process what was happening. Her brain screamed ABORT! ABORT! But her heart pounded against her ribcage and before she knew it, she wrapped her arms around Nino, pulling him closer to kiss him back. She breathed in the earthy scent of his cologne, how could she not notice his scent before? It was nice, relaxing and not too overpowering. His lips were soft and warm, and tasted slightly of mint. Nino broke away for air first.  “Let’s do this,” Nino’s forehead touched hers. “for real. Alya, we can make this work.”

Every thought in Alya’s head came to a screeching halt. This was not part of the plan. Kissing was clearly against the rules. She couldn’t let herself fall for him again, and at the zoo of all places.  

“No,” she whispered. Alya felt the tears welling up, she broke away from his hold. “We can’t.

“Why not?”

“Because…because it’s not part of the plan.”

“Screw the plan.” A silence hung in the air between them. For the first time in their years of friendship, she saw Nino truly angry. “This isn’t about Adrien or Marinette, it’s about you and me. You’re the one who asked me to pretend to date you. You’re the one who came over to my place to make plans and spend hours with me. This whole date was your idea. Why?”

“You’re the only person I trusted not to fall in love with me. When we decided to be friends, I thought that was the end of it.”

“You’re the one who decided we worked better as friends.”

“Because clearly you were still into Marinette.”

“I was fifteen and confused. I didn’t love Marinette. What I felt for her at the time was only a small fraction of what I felt for you. I thought time and time again I proved that to you. I’ve been in love with you for years. Are you so wrapped up in other people’s lives you couldn’t see what was right in front of you.”

“I don’t care whether or not you liked Marinette. You broke my heart, Nino. I wanted you to fight for me, to tell me I was being dumb for breaking up with you. But no, you shrugged it off like nothing happened. And I realized, that’s just how you are. You’re a yes man. You never push back, and half the time I jump into situations without thinking things through. If it happened once, it could happen again. I can’t put myself through that again, Nino. Not with you. I’m sorry.”

Alya sprinted away as fast as she could, tears streaming from her eyes. Everything was falling apart. She should have kept her heart locked up tight.  

“What about phase six?” Nino called out from the distance.

“THERE IS NO PHASE SIX!”