#it still feels wrong that i am done with school and the seniors are gone forever

[yourninjasareajoke]

oh damn, school’s out

do i get the senior discount now?

[tokkiwrites]

"Summer nights like this had a way of unfolding secrets. The kind of nights when the air hung heavy with pine and smoke, the moon glinting like a shy voyeur against the rippling surface of the lake. This wasn’t your first time at the Washington family cabin, but it was the first time that everything felt different. No parents. No rules. And, worst of all, no escape from the fact that Josh Washington was here, and he wasn’t yours."

summary: Your best friend invites you to their annual summer trip to the family cabin in the mountains—something you've done before. But this year is different: no parents. After years of secretly harboring feelings for your best friend’s brother, Josh, you decide this is the perfect chance to finally confess.

tags: best friend's brother!joshua washington x f!reader, childhood crush, both josh and reader like each other but act oblivious (josh more than reader), reader is low key obsessed with josh, minor age gap, alternative universe where Hannah and Beth are still alive, some angst, p in v (protected), virginity loss (reader), kind of fluff, josh talks you through it (yummy!!), fingering (f receiving), idiots in love 🫶🏻

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ tokkis note 𑁯 ✿ hey... how yall doing... the rami malek fever is so real i had to write something. so i did. 6,45k words to be more exact, teehee! i dont quite know what this is, but i had fun writing it, like it got me giggling and shit so yeah 💀 if you see any typos close your eyes, forget you saw anything. enjoy!

7th grade. That was when you stopped thinking of Josh Washington as just Hannah’s annoying older brother. Between the way he stayed behind after soccer practice to teach you how to kick a penalty and the smirk he threw over his shoulder, like he knew you were watching him. The first time when you actually considered Josh not being a jerk like other boys. In 9th grade, he became the hottest guy you had ever met. or maybe you just got so used to his face that you didn't want to look at other boys. Fast forward to now, you're starting college in one month, and things have changed in a way. maybe for the worstㅡ because he's all you can think about.

“You’re staring again.” Hannah’s voice snaps you out of your daze. She’s grinning, nudging your ribs as the two of you sit on the couch in the cabin. “You’re so obvious.” You blink and turn toward her, cheeks heating. “I—I wasn’t staring!”

“Oh, you were,” she teases, popping a chip into her mouth. “What is it this time? The hair? The jawline? Or did you finally notice his arms? I mean, have you seen him chop firewood? That’s peak Josh.”

“Hannah!” You hiss, smacking her arm. She only laughs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But she’s not wrong. Somewhere between your senior year of high school and now, Josh had gone from the boy who made stupid puns to the man who could take your breath away just by walking into a room. Unfortunately, it seems like he doesn’t notice.

“Still no move, huh?” Hannah says, lowering her voice. “You’re not seriously going to spend another summer in silent agony, are you?” You sigh. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Josh, remember me? The girl who used to wear braces and cried when I lost my retainer? Cool. Wanna make out?’” Hannah snorts so loudly that Beth, sitting nearby with her book, looks over with a frown. “What are you two laughing about now?”

“Nothing,” you and Hannah say in unison, though she’s still stifling giggles. Beth looks at you both, arching a brow. “Sure,” she says, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. She returns to her book, leaving you free to squirm under Hannah’s knowing gaze.

Josh doesn’t stick around to witness your humiliation. He’s already disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of the fridge opening and the clinking of bottles is the only thing tethering you to the moment. “Do something this trip,” Hannah murmurs, leaning close so Beth doesn’t overhear. “Seriously. You’ve been mooning over him since forever. And now—” she waves a hand at the open windows, the twilight stretching wide like a stage—“this is your moment.”

“Hannah, it’s not like that,” you say, but even you don’t believe it. Not when your heart skips every time Josh is within ten feet of you. “It’s exactly like that,” she shoots back, voice low but insistent. “He likes you, too, you know.” You look at her sharply. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s just... Josh. Oblivious as hell.”

You’re about to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, that there’s no way Joshua Washington— carefree, clever, confident Josh, could ever see you like that. But before you can, his voice carries from the kitchen. “You two plotting something?” Your breath hitches, and Hannah, ever the instigator, grins. “Maybe,” she calls back. Josh reappears, beer in hand, and leans against the doorway. His green eyes flick between the two of you, and for a moment, you swear they linger on you. “Well, don’t blow up the cabin,” he says with a crooked smile before heading out onto the porch.

That night, the cabin settled into quiet. Beth retires early, Hannah tucked away in the room you’re sharing, and yet you can’t sleep. Your thoughts swirl—images of Josh’s hands, the way his eyes looked into yours, his voice, smooth and teasing, the way his smile felt like a hook tugging you somewhere you shouldn’t want to go.

The room feels suffocating, the summer heat pressing against your skin. You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, grabbing a towel and slipping into your swimsuit. The lake isn’t far. You’ve been there a hundred times before, but tonight, it feels like it’s waiting just for you. The water is cold when you first step in, but it’s a welcome relief, a shock that clears your head. You wade in deeper, letting the towel drop onto the shore, and soon, the swimsuit feels like too much. You hesitate, glancing back toward the cabin, but it’s silent and still. “Just you and the lake,” you whisper to yourself. The swimsuit peels away, and the water envelops you like a second skin. You float, staring up at the sky, letting the cool liquid carry the weight of your thoughts.

But then a voice shatters the stillness.

“Didn’t take you for a midnight swimmer.”

You jolt, water sloshing as you whirl toward the shore. Josh is standing there, hands in his pockets, his head cocked in that infuriatingly casual way he always manages. “Josh!” You shriek, sinking deeper into the water. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning even as the water cools your skin. His eyes sweep over the lake, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “You always were full of surprises,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you joining?” you ask before you can think better of it. The question hangs in the air, bold and daring, and for a moment, you think you’ve scared him off. But then he grins.

“Alright.”

You watch, half in awe, as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint trail of scars along his ribs. He doesn’t stop there, shucking off his jeans until he’s left in his boxers.

The water ripples as he drops in, and suddenly, he’s closer than you expected, the space between you charged with something you can’t quite name. “This is nice,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. You nod, the words caught in your throat. “Do you ever feel like...” He trails off, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Like there’s something just out of reach? Like you want to grab it, but you’re scared of what happens if you do?”

Your heart thuds. “All the time.” His gaze shifts to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something—something that will change everything. Instead, he leans back, letting himself float. “Good thing we’ve got the whole summer,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. But one thing is clear: you’ll spend every moment of this summer trying to pull him closer.

The next morning, the cabin feels alive with the quiet rustle of summer. Birds trill in the trees, and sunlight pours through the open windows, a golden invitation to start the day. Hannah is already on the deck with a cup of coffee, scrolling on her phone when you step out. “You’re up early,” she says, not looking up. You shrug, trying to hide how restless you’d been all night after what happened at the lake. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t press. “Josh is down at the dock,” she says, nodding toward the lake. “Probably sulking. You know how he gets.”

You hesitate. “Why’s he sulking?”

She snorts. “Because the rest of the group isn’t getting here until tomorrow. You’d think one day without his entourage wouldn’t kill him.” You glance toward the lake. the memory of last night. Josh’s quiet words, the way the moonlight danced in his eyes, it's still fresh in your mind. “You should go,” Hannah says, smirking now. “Cheer him up. Or stare at him some more. Whatever works.”

“Hannah!” But she’s already gone, slipping back into the cabin and leaving you with no choice but to head toward the dock.

Josh is sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, his feet dangling in the water. The air smells like cedar and the faint tang of sunscreen. for a moment, you almost turn back. But then he glances over his shoulder and sees you. “Morning,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Hey,” you say, stepping onto the dock and sitting a few feet away. For a while, neither of you speak. The lake stretches out before you, endless and still, and it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you.

“Big day ahead of us,” Josh says eventually, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Yeah,” you reply, matching his smile. “So many exciting activities. Staring at trees. Staring at water. Staring at each other.” He laughs, and the sound is warm and unexpected. “Careful. I might think you’re obsessed with me.” Your stomach flips, but you keep your voice light. “Who says I’m not?”

Josh looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. But instead of teasing, his expression softens. “I don’t get you sometimes,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” He shrugs, kicking at the water. “You’re just...different. Not like everyone else.” oh boy. “Good different or bad different?” you ask, your heart in your throat. Josh doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts to the endless forest, and when he finally speaks, his voice pangs through you.

“Good,” he says. "Definitely good.”

The rest of the day is a blur of lazy activities—helping Beth organize the kitchen, listening to Hannah’s playlist on the deck, and avoiding Josh just enough to keep your heart from imploding. By sunset, the air is thick with the anticipation of the group’s arrival tomorrow. Hannah flops onto the couch beside you, phone in hand. “Sam says they’re leaving first thing in the morning,” she says. “So, enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

“Quiet?” Beth calls from the kitchen, laughing. “Have you met us?” Hannah rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Tomorrow it’s going to be chaos. Jess and Emily bickering, Chris and Ashley pretending they’re not totally in love, Matt trying to keep the peace...and then there’s Josh.”

“What about Josh?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Hannah gives you a look. “You tell me.”

That night, you find yourself back at the lake, drawn by the same restless energy that kept you up the night before. You don’t plan on skinny dipping again—it feels too risky with everyone around—but the water calls to you anyway, soothing and eternal.

And maybe, just maybe, Josh feels the same right now.

You’re sitting on the shore, toes dipping into the cool water when you hear footsteps behind you. “Couldn’t sleep again?” You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. “I could say the same to you,” you reply, glancing back. Josh sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of him is enough to set your skin buzzing. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says after a while.

“What is?”

“Being back here. Without... you know. Adults. Rules.” You nod, the weight of his words settling over you. “Feels different.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Makes you think about stuff.”

“Like what?” you ask, heart pounding.

Josh doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he picks up a stone and skips it across the water. One, two, three perfect skips before it sinks. “Like what happens next,” he says finally. “For all of us. Feels like everything’s about to change.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So, instead, you reach for your own stone, throwing it as hard as you can. It skips once before plunking into the water. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and figure it out,” you say, keeping your voice light.

Josh looks at you, his eyes shadowed and searching, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. what you want to hear, maybe. something important. But instead, he smiles, that same lopsided grin that’s been haunting your dreams for years. “Good,” he says.

“I’d miss you otherwise.”

The cabin feels too small the moment the others arrive. It’s a blur of bodies, laughter, and chaos as the others spill into the space, dragging in bags, cooler boxes, and enough energy to wake the dead. It’s not that you mind them—you’ve known most of Josh’s friends for years, but something about the way the cabin hums now feels different. The tight, intimate bubble you’d shared with Josh, Hannah, and Beth is gone, replaced by noise and the easy rhythm of their group. You feel...adrift, to say the least. And watching Josh slip seamlessly back into his role as the charismatic center of attention only makes it worse.

By the time night falls, the cabin is alive with music, the sharp pop of bottle caps, and the low buzz of conversation. You find yourself perched in a corner of the living room, a half-empty drink in hand, watching the others like a ghost at your own party.

Josh is at the center of it all, as always. He’s standing near the couch, laughing at something Sam said, and the sound is enough to send your stomach twisting into knots. Sam, of course, is radiant—effortlessly pretty in her cropped sweatshirt, her hair catching the light like spun gold. She’s animated, gesturing with her hands, and every time Josh leans closer to hear her, you feel like the room tilts off its axis. “Hey,” Hannah says, sliding in next to you with a knowing look. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink. Hannah snorts. “Subtle.” You glance at her, frowning. “What?”

“You know what,” she says, tilting her head toward Josh and Sam. “Seriously, if you’re going to keep looking at him like that, you might as well do something about it.”

“I’m not looking at him,” you protest weakly. Hannah rolls her eyes. “Sure. And I’m not your best friend.” She pauses, watching you for a moment before her expression softens. “Look, you’re not exactly subtle when it comes to Josh. But for what it’s worth? I think he’s just as clueless about how he feels as you are.” Her words settle into your chest, a mix of hope and frustration, but before you can respond, Jess calls out from the other side of the room.

“Hey! Who’s up for Spin the Bottle?” You couldn’t escape it, let's be honest.

You don’t know how it happens, but somehow, you end up in the circle. Maybe it’s the drinking, or maybe it’s Hannah giving you a pointed nudge as everyone sits on the floor, but before you know it, you’re sandwiched between her and Ashley, your pulse pounding in your ears. Josh is directly across from you, his green eyes bright in the firelight. Sam is to his left, Jess to his right, and the knot in your stomach tightens. “Okay, ground rules,” Jess says, grinning wickedly. “No chickening out. You spin, you kiss. Period.”

There’s a chorus of laughter and a few groans, but no one protests. Chris goes first, spinning the bottle with dramatic flair. It lands on Ashley, who blushes furiously but leans in to kiss him. The group erupts in cheers and wolf whistles, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself.

One by one, the bottle makes its rounds. Jess and Emily kiss, Matt kisses Ashley despite him protesting, and eventually, it’s Josh’s turn. He spins the bottle with a lazy flick of his wrist, the glass neck twirling endlessly before it slows, stops, and lands on Sam.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh, come on,” Jess says, clapping her hands. “This is gonna be good.” Josh raises an eyebrow, glancing at Sam. She shrugs, smiling, and leans forward.

You can’t look away.

Their lips meet in a brief, playful kiss—nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shattering. but it’s enough. Enough to make your chest ache, your fingers tighten around the drink in your hand. When they pull apart, everyone cheers again, and Josh laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your turn,” he says, handing the bottle to Sam. But you don’t care. You’re too busy swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your vision blurs at the edges.

Later, when the game ends and the group begins to disperse, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating cabin. The lake stretches out before you, dark and endless, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

“You okay?” The voice startles you, and you turn to see Josh standing there, hands in his pockets. “I’m fine,” you say quickly, brushing at your eyes. He frowns, stepping closer. “You sure? You looked kind of...I don’t know, off.” You force a laugh, crossing your arms. “I’m fine, Josh. Really.” For a moment, he just looks at you, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly. The words hit harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, you snap. “What do you want me to say, Josh? That I didn’t love watching you kiss Sam? That it didn’t suck seeing you two all cozy earlier?” His eyes widen, caught off guard, and for a second, you regret everything. But then his expression shifts—something softer, something almost...guilty.

“I didn’t...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to...” You shake your head, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Forget it. It’s not your fault.” Josh hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the look in his eyes—conflicted, searching. “I know,” you say quietly. “It’s fine. Really.” But it’s not fine. And as you turn back toward the cabin, leaving Josh standing by the lake, you can’t help but wonder if this summer is going to break you before it’s over.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the cabin in hues of orange and gold. The group was scattered—Jess and Emily were bickering over sunscreen, Chris and Ashley were curled up on the deck talking in low tones, and Sam was by the lake with Hannah, skipping stones. It was all too perfect, too idyllic, except for the hollow ache in your chest.

Josh had been avoiding you all day.

It wasn’t like he was being obvious about it—Josh had a knack for slipping into conversations, filling the room with his sharp wit and charm like nothing was wrong. But you felt it. In the way his eyes would dart past you when you entered a room, the way his laugh seemed just a little louder when you weren’t around.

And maybe you were just as bad, lurking in the corners, pretending not to notice how often he touched Sam’s arm when they talked.

Written across your heart was all of your will to make him see—make him realize there was no in-between. There was either you and him, or the hollow echo of “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And wasn’t that what it felt like already? Like mourning something that never got the chance to live?

But it was his fault, wasn’t it?

For making you want him so much that your heart bled angel tears. For teaching your lips to sing sweet once-upon-a-times about a boy who was all sharp edges and hidden softness, who didn’t realize how much space he took up in your world.

By late afternoon, you found yourself back at the lake. It had become your refuge, the only place where you could breathe without the weight of Josh’s absence pressing against your ribs. Your toes skimmed the water’s edge, the cool ripples kissing your skin. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular—just the endless horizon, the way the light danced on the surface of the lake. But then a voice broke through your thoughts.

“You hiding out here now?” You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Again.

“Maybe I am,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. Josh sighed, stepping closer. You could feel the heat of him at your back, the way his presence wrapped around you even when you didn’t want it to. “Look,” he said finally, his voice softer. “About the other night...” You turned to face him, cutting him off. “It’s fine, Josh. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes—those endless green eyes—searched yours, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, you don’t,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, right?”

Josh flinched, like the word “friends” was a physical blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. For a moment, you believed. But then you shook your head, stepping away. “You didn’t, Josh,” you said. “I’m fine.”

That night, the group decided to make a bonfire by the lake. The air was thick with laughter, the sharp scent of burning wood mingling with the sweetness of roasted marshmallows.

You sat with Hannah and Beth, listening as Chris tried to tell a ghost story that kept getting interrupted by Jess’s sarcastic commentary. Josh was across the fire, sitting next to Sam. He wasn’t touching her, wasn’t even looking at her, but it didn’t matter.

Your hair cascaded like Niagara under the firelight, your lips so soft—even if he had never felt them under his. Josh couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes glowed like an eternity, and your voice—when you laughed at something - it was the only antidote he’d ever had for all those sleepless nights.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t know how to reach across the chasm that had opened between you since that stupid game of Spin the Bottle. And maybe it was selfish—maybe it was cruel—but he wanted you to look at him the way you used to. Like he was something worth believing in.

The fire burned low as the group began to drift off, one by one. Eventually, it was just you and Josh, the silence between you heavy and unspoken. “Shouldn’t you be with Sam?” you asked, your tone biting. Josh frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” But before you could leave, his hand shot out, catching your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice urgent. You froze, refusing to look at him. “Can we just—” He hesitated, his grip loosening. “Can we talk?” You pulled away, your chest tightening. “Not tonight, Josh.” He didn’t stop you this time, and as you walked back to the cabin, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

Neither of you slept that night.

The stars were muted behind a veil of clouds, the air heavy with the promise of rain. The cabin was quieter now. Days of forced smiles and lingering silences had worn you thin, and tonight, you found yourself outside again, pacing the gravel path that led to the lake.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It started as an ache in your chest, spreading to your throat until the tears came unbidden, hot, and relentless. You wiped at them furiously, hating the way they betrayed you, but the anger only made it worse.

How could he be so blind?

You heard footsteps behind you, familiar and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Josh. “Go away,” you said, your voice raw.

He didn’t.

“Hey,” he said softly, his tone careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “What’s wrong?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the stillness. “You really have to ask?” Josh shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if this is about—”

“It’s not about Sam!” you snapped, whirling to face him. “It’s about you, Josh. It’s always about you.” His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his green eyes. “What are you talking about?” You threw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “Do you know what it’s like? To feel like you’re screaming into the void, hoping, praying, that someone will hear you? To love someone so much that it hurts, only for them to act like you don’t even exist?” Josh’s expression shifted, the confusion replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“I—”

“You don’t get it,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You never have. And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should’ve said something years ago, but I didn’t, and now... now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m suffocating.” The tears came harder now, and you didn’t bother to stop them. Josh took a step closer, his jaw tight, but he didn’t speak. “Say something,” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Anything.”

He didn’t.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Of course,” you said, turning away. “Why did I even expect—” But before you could take another step, his hand caught your arm, spinning you back toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate, messy, like he was trying to say all the words he couldn’t find through the press of his lips. His hands cradled your face, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. For a moment, you froze, too stunned to move. But then your hands found his shirt, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” Your chest ached, the anger draining from your body as quickly as it had come. “Josh,” you started, but he cut you off, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I don’t. But you’re all I think about. You always have been.” The words broke something in you, and the tears came again, but this time, they weren’t born of anger or frustration. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because I’m an idiot who didn’t realize what he had until he almost lost it.” You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his hands still framing your face. “I can’t.” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you did the only thing you could: you kissed him.

This time, it was softer, slower, filled with all the things you couldn’t put into words. And when you pulled back, his lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. “Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me?” you asked, your voice shaking with a mix of laughter and tears. Josh chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You'll start wishing I would."

The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as you and Josh lingered, the sound so faint at first that you barely noticed it. But then it came again, louder this time, accompanied by a flash of light on the horizon, pulling you both from your kiss. You glanced up at the clouds gathering above, your chest tightening. Josh followed your gaze, a grin tugging at his lips. “You afraid of a little rain?” Before you could respond, the heavens opened up. The rain came in a sudden, torrential downpour, drenching you both in seconds. You yelped, the cold droplets soaking through your clothes as Josh let out a startled laugh. “Come on!” he shouted over the sound of the rain, grabbing your hand.

He led you up the path, past the cabin and deeper into the woods where a small gazebo stood, tucked beneath a canopy of trees. The structure was simple but charming, with its whitewashed beams and ivy creeping up the sides. Inside was a weathered but cozy couch, draped with soft blankets that someone—Hannah, probably—had left there.

You stumbled under the shelter just as another crack of thunder split the sky. The sound was deafening, but you couldn’t help laughing as you leaned against one of the beams, rainwater dripping from your hair and clothes. Josh stood across from you, his hands on his hips, his shirt clinging to his chest in a way that made your heart race all over again. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and yet he looked unfairly good—smiling at you like this was the best night of his life.

“Well,” he said, shaking water from his hair, “so much for staying dry.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You think?” He stepped closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Here.” He reached for one of the blankets on the couch, shaking it out before draping it over your shoulders. His fingers brushed your arms as he adjusted it, and you shivered, though it wasn’t from the rain. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Josh sat beside you on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he leaned into the cushions. The rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo, a rhythmic hum that filled the silence between you. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “I kind of like this.” You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Getting caught in a thunderstorm?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Being here. With you.” You looked away, focusing on the rain streaking down the gazebo’s wooden beams. “Josh...” “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. You felt his hand brush against yours, tentative, like he was testing the waters. “Look at me.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. The rain softened the world around you, muting everything except the warmth in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the two of you, sitting close on that old couch, the rain falling like a curtain around the gazebo. You could feel it, that familiar warmth creeping up within you, curling in your stomach every time Josh was near. Your heart thuds as his rough palm drags itself up your exposed thigh. Before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out of your mouth. “I’m a virgin!” Your face flushed a deep crimson as soon as the words left your lips, and you immediately covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Josh froze for a beat, his hand still resting on your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t dare look up. And then, to your surprise, you heard him laugh softly, the sound low and warm. “Wait... really?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement but also something softer, something affectionate.

You peeked up at him, still hiding half of your face behind your hands, the flush on your cheeks deepening. “Yeah, really,” you mumbled, not sure whether you were embarrassed or relieved to finally say it out loud. Josh’s grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned a little closer. “I gotta admit, that’s a little... surprising.” He paused, his tone teasing but gentle. “But, hey, no rushing." Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him being your first. You nodded, your eyes searching his face, still unsure whether to be embarrassed or... maybe a little proud?

His hand gently moved from your thigh to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, reassuring circles. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “I'm not trying anything unless you want to.” You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and found only kindness there— no teasing, no judgment, just understanding. And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier. "I do want to... you know.." The words won't come out. “Still,” you muttered, “it’s... kind of awkward, don’t you think?” Josh chuckled, that warm smile never leaving his face. “Don't think so” he said, his voice low and serious now, “if you’re gonna share something like that with anyone, I’m glad it could be me."

You nod, scooting closer to him, palms now flush on his chest. his eyes scan your every inch, and you try to look away, but he captures your lips into another kiss. his lips trail down to your neck with a low "can I?" And you hum, trying your best to stay quiet as you get used to the feeling.

in no time, you're under him, both entangled, half naked and out of breath. he finally pulls off your panties, tossing them to the floor as he spreads your cunt wide open with two of his fingers, and god, you looked so erotic, all shying away as he loomed over, fingers playing with your pussy. "You ever touched yourself like this before?" You nod, bottom lip captive between your teeth. "J-just a little..." Oh, god. "You're so beautiful, fuckㅡ" And he's already losing his mind. Nights of fantasizing couldn’t have prepared him for this.

placing his palm behind your knee, he lifts up your legs, laying light pecks onto the plush of your thighs, thumb now tracing down to your puffy clit. Josh starts slowly, swirling his finger and still kissing your soft flesh. "Thank you for letting me do this." tracing the entrace with his index, he pushes his finger slow and deep inside, and you arch against him. this was it. he was where all of his dreams led him to. you looked like something straight out of a 80's porno. cunningly, josh moved his finger, and before you knew it he added another one. you squeezed perfectly around his digits, the sounds you and your pussy made driving him to the brink. "You hear that?" he asks, curling up his fingers, the wet sounds amplifying. "don't think I've ever had a pussy this wet before..." you whimper ans wrigle under his hold. "Josh.."

"What? It's the truth." he chuckles, speed picking up, his other hand now flush to your lower belly. "Want you to come. Can you do that for me?" he looks up, doe eyes searching for yours, and you can already feel your body convulsing. it didn't take long for you to finally give in and gift him what he asked for, coming just from his fingers. the way you thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between them, soft pleads dripping from your lips like honeyㅡ he was done for. you were embarrassed, to say the least, hiding your face into his shirt he had taken off long ago. "Stop that, heyㅡ look at me, baby." Baby. did you just come again? "You did great. so good." he leans in over you, pressing a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. "Do you wanna keep going?" and you say the most eager 'yes' known to man. "i got you." he smiles, eyes tracing every curve of your body. he takes off his pants along with hus briefs, letting his shaft spring free, small pearls of precum already gathered at the tip.

your eyes opened. what the fuck? is that normal? you knew your first would hurt, but seeing what Josh had going on for him you knew it would be the most painful experience for you yet. "Don't worry. I'll go slow." he stumbles a bit back, grabbing a hold of his trousers, palming his pockets before he mutters a soft 'there we go.' and takes out a shiny wrapperㅡ a condom. the opens it and carefully takes it out, lining it with the tip of his aching cock. "If you ever wanna stopㅡ" he starts, whilst rolling the condom down his length. "Tell me. Yeah?" you nod.

taking his length into his fist, Josh pumps it a few times before he aligns it with your entrance that trickled with juices. he lets it slip in, and your eyes close as tears threaten to fall. you claw at his back, but Josh kisses you sweetly as he slides in some more, your walls wrapping perfectly around himㅡ just like it was meant to be. "It's okay, you're okay, baby."

after going in the last couple of inches, he starts to move, gently holding down onto your waist as he lets you adjust. "Doing so good for me."

just a few strokes after, he feels you wrapping your legs around his hips, urging him deeper. "Please.." You plead, the sweetest sounds escaping your plump and swollen lips, and he swears he could come just by that. "Fuck, yeah, okayㅡ" he groans, with the way your teary eyes stared up at him. He starts to move his hips, harder, deeper, each sound you made an encouragement for him to keep going. His palms make their way under your back, pulling you up, almost to sit on his lap. He fucks up into you, your arms lazily draped over his flexed shoulders whilst his lips kiss soft blooms onto your chest. you clench around him. "J-Josh..." he shakes his head, laughing as his fingers dig deep into your flesh where you know bruises will appear later. "Don'tㅡ ha, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that." whines slip past your lips as his speed picks up. "Shit, shitㅡ" he pulls you closer, lips now stuck to your neck like a locket. "Y-you gonna come?" he prys. "Mhm.." you squeal as your eyes roll back. "Go ahead, for me." that's all it took. you come once again, nimbly wrapping around josh like a vine, walls squeezing him so tight. your mind goes blank, only soft moans gripping your throat as Josh pumps into you, finally releasing inside of the condom with a few thrusts.

you both breathe heavily, hearts beating in a sing-song, as you come down from your high. realization sets in as you meet each other's gaze. it was real. it really just happened.

"You okay?" he leans in, pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips. "Yeah... How okay can one be after having sex for the first time..?" and he laughs, playing with the strands of your hair. "Thank god for the rain covering the sound. You were super loud just thenㅡ"

"Josh!"

[kittyundercover1]

List of Wild Kratts stories and AUs (featuring my WK OCs) that have been brewing in my mind for years:

1. Four Leaf Clover

My main Wild Kratts OC story! It’s uploaded on Wattpad and AO3.

The story follows a young botanist named Clover Hallows as she encounters the Wild Kratts followed by her silly little adventures with them. There’s action, adventure , romance, the perfect silly OC story for any silly OC fan.

2. Frozen AU

No surprise that it’s already been done in the fandom, but I just wanted to add my OCs into it.

Anna: Clover

Elsa: Iris

Olaf: Aster

Hans: Martin

Kristoff: Chris

Sven: Jimmy Z

Basically the story of Frozen, but with Clover, Iris, and Aster as Anna, Elsa, and Olaf.

I had no other thoughts to make Martin the bad guy (Hans) unless I have the role to Zach. Otherwise, Clover x Zach would have to be a ship to deal with—

Although I am always up for some potential Clover x Martin moments.

3. Multiple Swap AUs

At this point, I got a swap AU for a swap AU, so I’ll categorize them as simply as I possibly can

Clover and Aster 🔁 Chris and Martin

Clover, Iris, and Aster with swapped roles of each other (Iris as Aster, Clover as Iris, Aster as Clover, etc). There’s two versions of this

Clover, Iris, and Aster 🔁 Aviva, Koki, and Jimmy Z

4. Villain Clover AU

From what I’ve previously written down:

Clover becomes corrupted and turns into a villain. From an experiment gone wrong by Zach from him capturing her, she feeds into all her anger, struggles, and frustration in her life and almost overthrows Zach’s company.

She eventually has more power than him and even has a few robotic henchmen and gadgets of her own. All of which she makes Zach create. All she does is customize and design it with her signature flowery patterns and designs.

The Wild Kratts crew try their best to save Clover, but every time they intervene, they stray away from her. Iris and Aster eventually learn their sister is now evil and tries helping the Wild Kratts crew the best they can as an aspiring businesswoman and basketball player.

Seven is better than one.

Probably might end up changing the concept until it’s something I like.

I made a playlist on Spotify for it that’s a WIP.

5. Clover Dies AU (Major Character Death AU)

Aka my attempt at making an angst story:

After a fatal Creature Adventure leaves Clover dead, the Wild Kratts crew and her family grieve over her death.

I suppose each chapter or story dives into the crew and her family’s feelings. Plus I had an animatic idea for Aster’s chapter.

I also made a playlist for this on Spotify that’s also still a WIP

6. College AU

I don’t know HOW this is gonna work considering their ages, but imma try to make it make sense.

Clover:

- Freshman

- Majoring in botany. Minoring in chemistry

Iris:

- Senior

- Majoring in business management. Minoring in economics

Chris:

- Freshman

- Majoring in biology

Martin:

- Senior

- Majoring in zoology

Aviva:

- Sophomore

- Majoring in engineering

Koki:

- Sophomore

- Majoring in cybersecurity

Jimmy:

- Freshman

- Majoring in aviation

Aster:

- Sophomore (IN HIGH SCHOOL HA)

- Still wants to become a basketball star

I also like considering this an unofficial story to how Chris and Clover met, how the Wild Kratts would eventually form, etc.

7. The Fresh Beat Band x Wild Kratts AU

I absolutely loved watching The Fresh Beat Band when I was younger. If you never heard of them, it’s a show of a fictional band that aired on Nick Jr.

There’s also an animated spinoff called Fresh Beat Band of Spies, but I haven’t had the time to rewatched it yet. Once I do, I’ll probably add more onto the AU.

Anyways, I’m binging the original show and having multiple fixations at the same time (aka me on a normal Tuesday), I’m like “how can I make this about the Wild Kratts and my OCs?” And behold, this AU was born:

Jimmy Z - Twist (yellow guy)

Aster - Shout (orange guy)

Aviva - Kiki (pink girl)

Koki - Marina (blue girl)

Their roles fit SO well.

Final thoughts:

Let me know if you have any questions or thoughts about my Wild Kratts AUs. I’d love to expand on them someday and I just love rambling about my OCs and stories as a whole. My ask box and DMs are always open!

[starfruitgirlie]

guide for highschool to not suck

HEY GAMERS! I catch myself a lot looking at people younger than be and being annoyed or thinking "wow I know so much more than you" but when I was the age they were at I desperately wanted to be older and I wanted to know what I was doing and I sucked at life. Im 17 so I can only give life advice up to that point. I was absolute garbo at age 13-15. I was cringe, fowl, thought I knew everything, was experimenting with my identity and style, had acne, had access to the internet when I probably shouldn't have, the works. Instead of looking down on a reflection of myself I want to give advice on how to make things a bit better. Unfortunately, you can't avoid being cringe. However I was mentally ill and had adhd, and there are things you can do to make those things less sucky. (disclaimer I am not a professional and you should always reach out to a trusted adult or a therapist for help and not the internet!)

So highschool sucks it's awful it's absolute doodoo. I changed school districts so I went into my freshman year not knowing ANYBODY. I was also a cringe gender non-conforming queer kid with a bad haircut and bad fashion sense so I know what it's like to be picked on. so this is for anybody already in highschool or going into it or just wants to know what to prepare for.

I can't sugarcoat it highschool is so bad. It's not all bad, you can have nice experiences but ultimately it sucks because when your entire social atmosphere is insecure teenagers everything sucks. I just completed my junior year and I feel like I have made a lot of realizations just in that year alone. I'm not a senior yet so I'm just dipping my toe into college prep stuff so I am no where qualified for that so if that's what you want go somewhere else and if you get good advice tell me I need it. so this is starfruit's guide on how to NOT SUCK HIGHSCHOOL! (from someone with no friends and is lazy)

no one is looking at you as much as you think they are. I don't mean this as a "you're full of yourself" statement, it's an anxiety thing I still deal with. Embarrassing incidents are going to happen unfortunately. You forget deodorant, you have your period, you trip in the hallway, your pants rip, all the sucky stuff. There are going to be some assholes who laugh and make you feel bad but most people are going to understand. everyone knows what it is like to feel embarrassed and it won't be a disney-channel bully type scene if you mess up. even though social media doesn't show it, people make embarrassing mistakes and have accidents. It took some time, but I had to learn to laugh at myself and not take myself as as seriously. I don't spend my whole day hyperfocusing on other people or going out of my way to laugh at someone. It can be tough especially if you're as shy as I am but there will always be kind people who will offer help in situations like that. As you grow things will be less embarrassing. i am not at the point where that feeling is completely gone but I yearn for the day.

I was in my first AP class this year and at first I was super super self-conscious. I am a good student, but the people in that class made me feel stupid sometimes. They all took like 6 ap classes when that was my first one. reality check!! it doesn't matter. your future employer isn't going to go "So did you take 6 ap classes at once and get 5s on all of them?". highschool doesn't matter as much as you feel like it does. don't get me wrong, still try but be kinder to yourself. Don't compare your grades to somebody else's. A big part of this too is not asking people for what they got on a test even if you think they got lower. It's not done out of malicious intent, but I know for a fact a lot of good students ask other people for their scores to feel better about their own when someone answers a lower grade. When people ask I say "I don't tell people my grades, it's just a personal thing I guess" and people will move on. A big thing for juniors is the ACT. the day those scores came out it was awful. I had to delete instagram for a week when someone I knew posted their super-good score just to brag. everyone was asking what I got and everyone was comparing scores. "Oh I got a 34" and when somebody said "28" I heard "that's not that bad!". that is a phrase I hate. "it's not that bad!" SHUT UP!!! You can avoid this by not telling anyone your scores. the only people who know my act score are me, my therapist, and my parents. and I intend to keep it that way forever. I'm grateful that a lot of aspects of school come easy to me but this is applicable for students at any level. my grades don't make me any better of a person. What is important is to try your best and only compare yourself to yourself. if a C is your best effort, that's good! You tried and you put in hard work. school is not a true judgment of how smart you are what matters is you are trying and learning.

don't be on snapchat. my school used it for a long time to spread nudes and take pictures of alt people and make fun of them. and to also send threats. "what's yo snap" is not flirting. it makes me want to hit you with a metal bar. I can't really explain all that much but I just hate snap chat and I will never use it.

don't spread information you aren't sure is true. big and small highschools both can start rumors that get out of control. a kid who I never knew was talked about so much and the rumors kept spiraling I have no idea what is or isn't true. it's also just not that fun to talk about?? I mean there is a certain enjoyment in gossip but if you're just making fun of someone behind their back it's not cool and even if you're laughing in the moment that's not healthy behavior. and if your friends shun you for not wanting to do that and being uptight, get new friends.

ask questions. if you are confused in class, ask. even if it's a dumb question. I admit I have thought before "are you dumb" when someone asked a question but at the end of the day I'm just a hater and that person benefitted from hearing an answer and learned. if you can, email your teachers and go in during your study halls or lunch hour for individual help. I never would have passed ap calc without all the days I spent in my teacher's classroom during my lunch period.

set boundaries with your friends. you can still show your friend you want to talk to them and value their friendship and express you want to listen in class. also you're just annoying if you talk the whole time. that's the hater in me coming out I'm sorry.

stop following made-up social media teen rules you hate. that makes me sound old when I say that but I can't describe it any other way. an example of this is instead of asking for someone's snap, just say "hi I really like you do you want to go on a date and can I get your phone number?". have real human interactions. Just because Brady Smith and his friends always sit at that table at lunch doesn't mean you can't sit there if you get there first. just because it's "cringe" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it. Be polite. shake someone's hand instead of dapping them up or whatever the hell. high five unironically. read a book in class instead of being on your phone. it doesn't mean you're trying to be quirky. it just means you want to read a book and people who make fun of you for reading probably should be the ones reading.

which leads me to: read more books. doesn't have to be something profound like a classic. it can be shitty YA vampire love triangle. it can be the series you loved in middle school about dragons. it can be something super long and profound. it can be non-fiction, it can be manga, it can be whatever!!!!! just read!!! just because someone to your left is reading jane austen doesn't mean you can't read warrior cats.

this might be more of an american thing but participate in dress-up days. this helped me overcome a lot of my social anxiety. even if no one else is doing it, I am going to dress like a cowboy because god damn it, it is dress like a cowboy day. i guarantee nobody cares. There's this kid at my school that regularly shows up in different costumes and I think its awesome and I also don't care. It could be some random tuesday and I could see Goku in the hallway and go "That's weird" and go about my day. Dress like Goku. End up on the school snapchat story with popular kids putting comments over it with a skull emoji. be free. The same kid also dressed up accordingly for holidays. Kids like that make you smile and you remember them fondly. my sister had a classmate who brought a toy thor's hammer to school everyday. i guarantee people made fun of him but thats awesome dude. nobody cares and if they do they need to get their priorities checked.

do your work in class so you don't have to do it at home. it saves time and you have more time to be lazy. if you have to work at home make sure to keep a planner. It's not cringe you're just being responsible. write it down or it will be gone from your brain in an instant and it will be 3 am and you will be writing a last minute research paper and not remember how to do citations.

make accommodations for yourself at school. for me this looks like dressing comfortably even tho I want to be stylish. It's also always bringing my headphones to school to have music on so I can focus. There's no reason to make school hard for yourself, bring things you might need, you don't need to raw dawg the day.

if you can, utilize time before school and after school to get help. I know so many people are busy so this might be tough but most schools will have resources like saturday school or they open early and have teachers who come in to tutor. at the end of the day though, prioritize you over your grades. You should still try but if you need the day to play video games and sleep, play video games and sleep.

to sum it up: stop comparing yourself to other people, compare yourself to you. only you know what you've been through and your level of growth. it's easier to be a happy teen when you arent worried what other people think. I hope this was useful!!!! thank you for reading if anyone made it this far.

[shieldofiron]

Eddie looked down at the flyer in his hand for the one millionth time. At least that’s how it felt.

Coming to college had taken two years of work, picking up classes at the community college to raise his gpa and filling out what felt like hundreds of scholarship applications. But walking through this door felt somehow even harder.

He had been out in Hawkins. But he had wondered if maybe at College it would be better to be stealth. After all, high school had been a nightmare. For once he didn’t want to be “THE trans guy.”

Though according to Argyle, who had sat at the Gay Alliance table all through the fair, he was far from the only trans person at UCLA. And they had a weekly board game night. If it had been any other activity, Eddie would have run for the hills. But this… maybe he could do this.

“You coming in or-“ the guy stared at Eddie through the half open door.

He was pretty, blonde and sort of lean, with blue eyes and a tiny nose.

“Hey, sorry just getting my nerve up,” Eddie thrust out his hand, “I’m Eddie. I just transferred.”

The guy only stared in response.

“Haha,” Eddie fought down a nervous laugh, “Get it? Transferred.”

The guy paled, “I’m Jason.”

“Nice to meet you Jason.”

He gestured to let Eddie inside, blue eyes round and huge. Like he was scared or something. Maybe Eddie should have toned it down, worn something more lowkey.

But when he got inside that didn’t totally track. The one guy, Billy, was local and loud as they came, showing Eddie a picture of him and his mom who was apparently his best friend, a large dangly earring swinging from his ear. And Eden, a trans girl from Utah, was decked out in heavy goth.

So Eddie wasn’t sure what Jason’s issue was.

“So, why a board game night?” He asked. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m a huge game fan, I started my school’s D&D club.”

“Oh, that’s Mr. Treasurer’s thing,” Billy slapped Jason on the back, “Apparently he and his best friend used to play all the time before she unfortunately passed away.”

Jason’s eyes darted over Eddie’s face.

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” Eddie said.

“Can I talk to you in the hallway, Eddie?” Jason said, his voice almost too loud in the quiet room.

“Ok, sure?”

Out in the hallway, Jason closed the door behind them and leaned against it.

“Look,” he said, “You’re being really cool about this. But it’s one hundred percent okay with me if you want to go. I can tell Billy and Eden, or even organize the game nights without me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But for what it’s worth… I’m really fucking sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie was mystified, “What?”

“I’m really fucking sorry. I was so… I hated myself so much, I regret that it made me act out in anger, and I’m… I am so sorry,” Jason said it so earnestly, so sure of something that he’d done wrong but Eddie still didn’t understand.

“Wait, what do you mean? Why would I feel uncomfortable with you?”

“For what I did,” Jason’s eyes looked a little red, and he hunched in closer to himself, folding his arms across his preppy polo, “When I was Jasmin.”

Oh.

Fuck.

Jasmin Carver had made Eddie’s life a living hell in high school. Teasing him constantly, pushing him away from Chrissy, who had actually seemed to like Eddie. Until Chrissy had died senior year, and Jasmin had gone off to college never to return.

Apparently Jasmin was never coming back.

Eddie sucked in a breath, “Oh.”

“You didn’t… recognize me?” Jason looked up, a single tear sneaking out of one eye that he swiped away on his shoulder.

“No,” Eddie said.

“Oh.” Jason nodded, then shook his head, staring at the carpet.

If Eddie ever imagined meeting him again it was never like this. But there was something awful about it too.

He hadn’t been the only trans guy in Hawkins. But because of the way Jason had acted… they had both been alone.

“I’m not out…” Jason sniffed, “No, I guess it would be fair if you outed me back home. I guess I deserve that.”

“What? I’m not gonna do that.”

“It’s fine,” Jason rubbed his eyes, “My parents are mad enough I’m actually taking anti-psychotics instead of just eating broccoli. Might as well just burn that bridge.”

Jason looks up, “But thanks, for being nice. Billy and Eden know that I was totally fucked up in high school. But it was nice. To pretend that… you liked me. Thank you.”

Eddie’s mouth worked before his brain could catch up, “But I can stay right?”

“What?”

“I can stay? If I want?”

“Yeah,” Jason smiled then, and Eddie realized why he hadn’t recognized him. Jasmin Carver had never smiled, not once.

It was a good thing, because it seemed Jasmin Carver was dead. Also, he wasn’t but…

“I’d really like that,” Eddie smiled back. “It’s really nice to meet you Jason.”

Jason sucked in a breath, “it’s nice to meet you too.”

—-

Pst @intothedysphoria it’s them!

[tayscutedotcom]

As always, I have not been on here in a very long time... hello, everyone. I am here to just talk to the openness of the internet. 

I think right now is a challenging point in my life. I “officially” finished my field hockey career (although I can return for another year if I would like). I am about to start my second semester of senior year, but I still have another year to go. I should look into grad school, internships, etc. and will actually be starting that soon. I look forward to those parts of my life and I am incredibly excited to begin. I think it is time that I “grow-up” in that sense. It I time to start attacking my future even if I really just want to stay as un-responsible as I possibly can. But I have so many things I want to do, so if I do not start now I don’t know when I will. I am ready for the “adulting” world. 

Onto the love-life area. This is a tricky one. I have been single for about 15 months or so. I cannot say that I am unhappy where I am, but I definitely am kind of lonely. I read this thing once that said there is a difference between feeling alone and feeling lonely. I definitely do not feel alone in my life which is a really good thing. I have friends, family, and people who care about me and I care about that. That transaction feels nice but I hate sometimes that it is almost a requirement, you know? I think that idea is helping me to discover that I can spend time by myself and with myself. I prioritize that, but it is hard when others do not respect that. I am not one to want to be around people 24/7/365. 

I think I am recently having a hard time accepting some things, or coming to fully understand it. Not to bring up a touchy subject, but my ex is in a very serious and committed relationship with a man. I do not disrespect people’s sexuality and the fluidity of such. It is difficult though to feel as if she truly ever loved me, if that makes sense. And to me it feels like I never truly knew her. Was she really just the gay til graduation type? Did she ever see me and appreciate how I did respect her and love her? Or was it just a facade to carry her through a phase she was in to prove something to herself or others? It does not really matter in the grand scheme of life, but love and the transference of such are really important to me. I hate to have gone through more than a year of my life with someone that maybe never committed to me or respected me. She definitely did not respect me and I can see that clearly, but accepting that about a person I thought I knew better than anyone is hard. I think this is impeding on how I interact with future partners. It plants a seed of doubt in my mind that I should never really allow myself to becoming fully committed and “in love” with them because what if in the end it really is just some show for them? I know my ex appreciated having someone by their side who loved them, followed them, and would do anything for them. But what does that mean for me? Am I just someone so willing to give my all to another person for the sake of doing so? Is it wrong to expect the same emotions and commitment back or is that self-serving and exploitative? I don’t know. I have a lot of questions and I think some of them I truly would like an answer to. But I refuse to base my life and mental fortitude on it. 

I am someone who can move forward on my own without answers and closure. I have done it before and, honestly, what does “closure” really do for anyone?

See you in a few months. 

[moomitheartist]

-A Dark Little Basement Story For My Love-

The teenage boy stood still in his room, staring persistently at the wall with unfocused, glassy eyes. His icy blue irises reflected the blue flickering light of his computer screen, which his right side faced as he looked into empty space.

He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t love me back. What have I done wrong? I’ve done everything for him… he always just looks the other way. What am I doing wrong?

 He didn’t have a reason to live anymore, but at the same time he wanted to… if only to see his beloved’s face. Whenever he walked the long, colorless hallways of his school, he constantly glanced around like a hyperactive madman in hopes of catching sight of the 12th grade senior. His ruffled, dirty-blonde hair, his honey brown eyes that seemed like endless pools of liquid gold, his perfect lightly tanned skin, and the friendly, cheerful smile he wore on his face. The sophomore always stared at him in hopes of catching his eye, but he never noticed. Ever.

 There was one time, though. One.

 A large group of students were gathered around the entrance of the gymnasium for a teacher-student meeting (discussion and preparation for an upcoming trip to Colorado, or something along the lines of that), and the teenager lost his footing because of an accidental bump from behind; he practically slammed right into a solid, toned torso and immediately looked up in embarrassment and shock as he backed up unsteadily. A pair of glittering, warm eyes greeted his gaze.

 “Hey, are you okay?”

 The older, taller boy asked in concern as he grabbed the other’s elbow to steady him. “You got shoved pretty hard, I felt that impact,” he chuckled.

 “S-sorry…” he automatically whispered, so quietly that not even he could hear himself.

 “Hello? You alright?”

 “I’m sorry,” he repeated, just loudly enough for the blonde to hear.

 “It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize. I think you’re the new student, the one who arrived a couple days ago. What’s your name again? I’m kind of sure I see you around pretty often.”

 “Zach,” he muttered, staring with wide eyes at his true love.

 “Ah, now I remember! Zachary… Haine?”

 He numbly nodded.

 The crowd that before made him feel constricted and suffocated now disappeared entirely. They seemed like zooming blurs surrounding an ethereal scene that determined how the rest of the movie would unfold. The single, most important and crucial part of a novel that meant life or death for the entirety of the cast.

 “Ok, well, see you around. The doors are opening, I gotta go. Bye!”

 And with that, it was over. He disappeared. Suddenly, the conversation seemed to evaporate into thin air, the previous nearly unbearable tension gone away in a gust of wind. It was over. He blew it; he should have said something, anything, to keep the conversation going! Why did he have to freeze up so stupidly like that?! He looked like an idiot, and now the love of his life would never speak to him again.

 He didn’t even notice the illumination of his computer go out as it shut down because of the abundance of activity. The now black, void-like atmosphere of the room did nothing to stir the boy out of his thoughts of last month. Even though he could no longer see the dark gray wall, he continued to stare into the exact same direction.

 Why did Zach fall in love with him in the first place? He didn’t know why. The first day he transferred to Bay Laurel Grove Private School of Success, the moment he stepped foot into the reception lobby he only saw the blond, brown-eyed senior speaking to the lady at the front desk. The elegance of his hand gestures and smooth, kind tone only drew in the sophomore further. Zach’s stomach immediately became a bottomless pit and his frozen heart began beating harder than it ever had before. He couldn’t even remember how long he just stood there like a braindead moron, but eventually the tall boy walked through the automatic doors and disappeared down one of the brightly lit hallways; only then did he feel as though he snapped out of his trance. Since the popular senior was mainly upstairs (because that was where grades 11-12 had their classes), Zach almost never saw him. The next time he did, it was when he was making out with a girl inside of the library. Marie, he had later on learned. His girlfriend.

 From that moment on, he had despised her. She only got in the way. And that was why he had killed her after a few weeks.

 Marie walked out of the girl’s bathroom, shaking her hands to dry the water droplets off of her hands; she glanced up and saw him looking at her, a blank expression on his face.

 “Hi! You’re the new kid who transferred a month ago, right? It’s nice to meet you!”

 She was beautiful. Her long brown hair, sparkling green eyes, pink cheeks, and sweet personality made her a more than perfect match for her boyfriend, which is why Zach needed her gone. When she died, he would replace her. He would comfort the heartbroken 12th grader, stay by his side, and he was bound to love him back… it was quite a promising plan.

 Without warning, he grabbed her silky hair in a tight fist and slammed a hand over mouth, muffling her screams. He dragged her into the same library where she kissed his beloved, and threw her down to the ground, locking the heavy insulated door behind them.

 “What are you doing?! What’s wrong?!" She cried out, stumbling to her feet.

 “I’m gonna kill you, bitch,” he breathed out, reaching into his book bag and pulling out a large, shining butcher knife. Her eyes went wide and she began to back away at the sight of the tightly-grasped weapon in the boy’s hands. 

 “Why,” she asked in a whisper, pressing up against a towering bookshelf.

 “Because he’s fucking mine,” he hissed, stepping forward and covering her mouth once again. “Try not to scream too loudly.”

 He plunged the knife deep into her belly and yanked it back out, a spray of crimson liquid squirting out of the gaping hole and coating his entire front. Zach felt deep vibrations in his palm as she released a blood-curdling shriek, fighting madly to yank his iron-grip off of her lips.

 Again and again, he cut, stabbed, slashed, and tore open her stomach furiously; buckets of bright red gore splashed everywhere. Staining the floor, their clothes, their bodies, the walls, and the shelves stacked with now drenched books. Every minute, her cries grew weaker along with her body, until she slumped over into him. The sudden slope of her body’s angle caused her soft, hot, gooey intestines and organs to plop wetly onto the carpeted floor and their previously pristine shoes.

 The slimy and slippery body matter along with loose chunks of belly flesh lay still in the pools of nearly dried, dark red. The boy released his grip on Marie’s mouth and allowed her trembling body to hit the ground. He kneeled down next to her and made eye contact with the older girl, who was still desperately holding on to life.

 “Please,” she mouthed, unable to get her raw vocal chords to function properly.

 “Let you live? So you can fuck your boyfriend some more? I don’t think so.”

 He lifted her head by her blood-drenched locks and shoved the dripping knife into her throat, so deep that only part of the handle was visible; he wiggled and shifted the blade about inside of her spasming throat, making sure to sever the trachea and other vital nerves. Even more blood gushed out from between her parted lips and poured down her already-stained, dark gray uniform blazer.

 Ripping out the blade bought about even more spasms and shivers, going on for several long seconds before her blood shot eyes finally rolled back into their sockets and she stilled. With grit teeth, he plunged his fingers into both eye-holes and gouged the two dull emerald optics out of her head, then shoved them deep into her gaping mouth. “Choke on those balls for a change, you damn whore.”

 Breathing heavily, Zach stood up and quickly threw the bloody weapon down next to her, along with tossing the black gloves he wore into the trash chute on a nearby wall. He slipped through the back exit at the end of the library, where he was certain that nobody would see him.

 When he checked the news that night, the main headline was “Highschool Student Found Brutally Murdered in School Library”. The details of her identity were in the online article, but the gruesome specifics of the murder were understandably left out. Police, who had swarmed the school to try and catch the girl’s murderer, came up empty handed. They warned everyone near the building to be extremely wary of any suspicious individual; however, they suspected that the killer personally knew the victim due to the brutality of her murder. It was not likely that they were a serial killer with randomized victims, but they advised residents near Bay Laurel Grove Private School of Success to stay inside nonetheless until the criminal was brought to justice.

 There were also interviews with Marie Stoller’s parents and boyfriend. Zach immediately skipped over the former, and went straight to the interview with the teenager.

 Throughout the entire four minutes of the video, he seemed utterly catatonic and rather unresponsive, only giving short “yes" or “no”'s to questions the pretty female interviewer asked (who was very understanding and empathetic towards the boy, and never rushed him).

 Zach couldn’t keep the grin from forming on his ghostly-pale face as he watched the video play out, his cold eyes staying trained, transfixed, on his senior’s expressionless visage.

 “I love you so much,” he whispered, a blush forming over his previously bloodless cheeks. “I’ll do anything for you. Anything you need from me, I’ll never fail to obey you… Alistair Madden.”

 The name of the teenager tasted so right on his lips. He wanted Alistair so badly, he wanted to feel him, taste him-

 Just then, Zach snapped out of his long, memory-filled trance and noticed the abundance of light in his quarters. He moved the electronic clicker connected to his computer to illuminate the atmosphere once more and dispel the oppressive timeless void. 

 Now he remembered why he did what he did. His love for his upperclassmen was far too great to withhold any longer, and that’s why Zach took him. It was utterly impossible to try and push down his feelings, not to mention pointless. Alistair must love him just as much, but he was probably too afraid to accept his own emotions. Zach just wanted to give him a little push…

 The morning was crisp and dull, the wind blew through your very soul and the gray sky shadowed all the vibrancy of the autumn’s foliage. It was nearly noiseless, save for the few lonely cardinals deciding to leave their cozy and comforting nests for a brief opportunity to fly around in the open air. Alistair silently walked alongside the cold river’s stone path concealed by the beautiful but dying trees; he felt numb inside and was hopelessly lost in thought, memories of the girl he loved racing through his mind like a glitching, malfunctioning projector. The twittering bird was quickly becoming a nuisance to him as it seemed to call on and on for some deserved attention, and so Alistair strayed from the main path and deeper into the nearly lifeless woods. It was even more silent over there with the cardinal’s cries now muffled from the many canopies and branches.

Why was it her and not me? The boy couldn’t help but repeat the question over and over again in his mind- it just wasn’t fair. She had never done anything wrong in her life, and yet she had such a cruel and gruesome fate; Marie always told him that they would get married when they were older, and now that time would never come. Why was it her and not me?

 There was suddenly the sound of a snapping twig coming from somewhere behind Alistair, yet before he could spin around to look behind him there was an explosion of pain in his skull and then, nothing at all. Not even a sound- just an empty, inescapable place of loneliness.

 Zach recalled when he stood up from his seat and made his way across the dim chambers of his house, through the hallway, down the stairs, into the kitchen, and stopped at the beginning of the steps leading down to the basement. It was as though a hole of black energy swallowed up not only the light, but all that existed within it. He flipped on the light switch and stared down at the bolted iron door at the bottom of the many steps. He let out a breath and began walking down the stairs, each creak being amplified by the echoes that bounced around the low area’s cold walls. From a chain he kept tucked into his collar, Zach used the tiny silver key to unlock the many bolts, then slipped through the entrance and shut the door behind him. 

 Only darkness.

 He felt along the wall for another light switch, seeking it out with his fingers, then grasped the small handle and flicked it upward. This illumination was much less prominent than the previous one, but it did the job; he could now see the bound and gagged body of a person restrained in a chair. The individual was slumped and looked very much unconscious.

 Ropes and chairs were looped around the person, looking like some sick and twisted gift box ribbon. A soft cloth was tied around their jaw like a kind but authoritative significant other, and their upper features were blurred by a harsh shadow cast by the concentrated light source. A soft groan was muffled by the fabric that gagged them, and the person stirred and shifted slightly. They lifted their head to look at the sudden visitor and their eyes widened in fear. 

 Zach approached Alistair’s now still form and smiled softly as he reached out a hand to touch his golden locks, but the older boy jerked away with a fatigued but furious look in his eyes. The noirette sighed and pulled back. It wasn’t his plan to get into his senior’s life so quickly, but he doubted that a better opportunity would have presented itself than when they were in the forest, all alone.

 “Are you really still denying your feelings? I was also scared to come out at first, but you’re a whole other level of stubborn.”

 The younger boy removed Alistair’s gag to allow a response from him.

 “Fuck you.”

 Zach rolled his icy eyes and sighed once again in agitation. “I’m losing my patience with you, Alistair. How much longer will it take for you to give in?”

 “What the hell are you talking about?! You’re a sick psychopath, why the fuck are you doing this to me?!”

 “I’m not a psychopath, and you’re lying. I know that you feel the same way about me as I do about you.”

 “I don’t love you- you’re delusional, as well. How many times will I have to tell you until you understand?”

 Zach crouched down in front of his prisoner and looked deeply into his dark eyes, silently willing some miraculous change of mind. “Just think. Think about me. What do you feel, really? Just tell the truth.”

 The blond teenager looked back into his captor’s cold gaze and did exactly what he was told to do.

 “In the past, I had no opinion on you whatsoever. You were only another one of the meaningless faces of the many people I passed by every day; I gave you no thought at all and when I spoke to you that one time, it was as though I was on autopilot. The only reason I remember you at all is because I always caught you staring at me.”

 He listened intently and nodded as Alistair spoke.

 “I understand.”

 “But now that I know who you really are, I absolutely despise you. You disgust me with your delusions and pointless insisting, and I hate you for doing this to me. How long have I been here now? Four fucking days, I think. Just give up already, Zachary. I’m just unable to love you, can you please accept that?”

 The sophomore grew ridgid as his senior spoke. After he was done talking, Zach stood up wordlessly. His eyes were obscured by his raven bangs as he paced before the chair.

 “I killed her.”

 “What.”

 “I killed your fucking girlfriend. I know you didn’t love her, Alistair. I did it for you.”

 The brown eyed boy’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly in horror; a shiver ran down his spine as he finally understood who Marie’s murderer was.

 “Do you finally see how much I love you? I murdered somebody for you.”

 The pale boy drew ever closer as he spoke, and he was now only inches away from the thunderstruck blond. His frost blue gaze traveled down to his soft lips and he nearly crashed into Alistair in a passionate kiss; his hands moved from gripping his light hair to caressing his cheeks. The other was nearly catatonic, and so he didn’t register that a murderer was embracing him tightly- the shock along with the lack of eating for such a long time clearly contributed to his mind temporarily deadening.

 The noirette took this lack of resistance as an invitation and slipped his tongue into Alistair’s mouth, saliva trailing down his jaw as he breathed heavily into the other’s lips.

 The senior abruptly felt the intrusion and gasped as he pulled back to the best of his ability, causing Zach to do the same.

 “What is it now,” he muttered, wiping away their liquids.

 “Get away from me, you monster,” Alistair whispered. 

 “Why did you change your mind so suddenly? I know that you enjoyed it.”

 “Enjoyed it?! You’re fucking crazy! You just told me that you killed my girlfriend and then you kissed me, I was unresponsive! I didn’t enjoy it,” he shouted.

 “Well, I tried. I tried the easy approach because I didn’t want to have to hurt you. But sometimes, a little pain is beneficial; hopefully you’ll realize how much I love you with a little more direct approach.”

 Zach turned and walked away, shutting the basement’s heavy door behind him with a resonating thud. Confusion joined despair in Alistair’s fogged mind as he looked at the receding shadow of his captor traveling up the staircase. Why would he have just up and left after saying something so cryptic and off-putting? The blond felt as though a bucket of ice water was dumped all over his body as a feeling of dread made its way through his veins, and he wondered why the sensation was so prominent and severe in his blood. His stomach churned with anxiety paired with the lack of food as faint footsteps grew louder and louder; the door’s hinges screeched and moaned as a slim, dark shadow slipped through and shut it quietly.

 “Don’t worry, I’m back now,” it whispered in an even and calm tone. Well, that’s exactly what Alistair was afraid of… that, and the thick, long needle glimmering in the illumination of the lightbulb that was clutched in Zach’s hand; a shimmery, strange pale liquid sloshed gently as it moved.

 “A special, homemade concoction of methamphetamine, cocaine, and fluoxetine powder, all mixed up in vodka. This should work almost immediately; it��ll make you uncoordinated and submissive enough to not try and escape while we have fun.”

 “Fun?! What’s that supposed to mean?!” The older boy struggled to free himself from his prison as his assailant approached casually.

 “You’ll find out soon enough.”

 Without warning, the noirette grabbed his prisoner’s restrained arms and pressed the syringe’s broad needle deep into Alistair's most visible vein, injecting the drugs into his bloodstream with an expectant smile.

 The captive began protesting but as the needle left his arm, his words began to slur and become incoherent and drawn out. He groaned in discomfort as the drugs began to take their full effect on his already exhausted body, with Zach impatiently waiting besides him.

 “I think you’re incapacitated enough to be unable to resist too much,” he told Alistair. “Let’s start.”

                                                                         … 

He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t love me back. He doesn’t love me back.  He tried everything, he tried so much. Pain, pleasure, love, hate, comfort, severity. So many alterations and similarities, yet whenever he was lucid and aware, Alistair never confessed his love. Three weeks of trial and repeated error, and it was all so baffling and wrong. 

 Zach tapped his clicker absentmindedly in order to half heartedly preserve the blue, flickering light of the bored computer. 

 “Maybe I’ll try again,” he mumbled to himself. “I can’t give up, not yet.”

 He got up from his desk and left his room for the first time in 24 hours, making his way through the lengthy halls and arriving at the basement door. A strange bitter yet sweet smell wafted up the stairs, but then again it was like that for a while now. How many days exactly? He couldn’t seem to recall. 

 The door creaked open for the umpteenth time and Zach descended the flights leading to the lowest level of the house; here, the unpleasant smell was much stronger, but he didn’t register the overpowering odor at all. The only thing in his mind was seeing Alistair once again. 

 A figure sat in the shadowy chair, still as ever. The blue-eyed boy walked nearer to the seated individual and began speaking once again, hoping to receive a desired response from his captive. 

 “Have you changed your mind yet?”

 There was nothing but utter silence and stillness from the slouched figure.

 “Don’t tell me you’re still fucking angry, Alistair!”

 Quiet.

 Finally losing all remaining patience, Zach lashed out and shoved the form in blind fury; there was a wet thud as it fell backwards right into the light, visible as it was now bathed in golden rays.

 The half-rotten and decayed corpse that used to be a handsome teenage boy was bloated and spurting bodily fluids out as the impact shook up its slimy, foul innards. Maggots crawled in and out of puffy red eye sockets and bluish stomach, burrowing into a gaping mouth and partially severed limbs. Most of the cadaver was a brown, sticky liquid by now, and the flesh that remained looked tender and squishy and crawled with insects on every inch. The smell was horrid and unbearable, a strong scent of rotten meat as well as syrupy and sugary undertones.

 Nothing of this horrible sight was registered by Zach in the slightest, and so he crouched down beside the squirming mass of melting meat and continued lecturing the husk of his past love.

 “I know that it’s hard, I know you miss your family and friends. But trust me, this is the only way. I just love you so much, that’s why I’m doing this.”

 A white, juicy worm crawled out of the bloated and pus-coated lips of the deformed face, then returned inside using the entrance of a particularly loose flap of skin.

 “You understand, don’t you?”

 “I love you, too.”

 Zach gasped in surprise, lurching back. “What?!”

 “I love you, too, Zach. I always have. I’m just sorry it took me so long to tell you that..”

 The body spoke with a tender voice as its soulless sockets stared lovingly into wide, icy eyes.

 “Thank you.. for finally telling me that. I’m at a loss for words, I’m so happy! Now we can finally be together, forever. I’ll never leave your side, Alistair.”

 “And I’ll never leave yours, my love.”

 The sophomore smiled a delightful, bright smile and leaned down to hug the cadaver of his beloved senior.

 “Forever…”

                                                                        …

 “Three.. Two… One! Police, come out and put your hands up now!”

 The front door flew open as five officers came running, holding up their guns and barking orders to one another. 

 “You, check the basement!”

 “Yes, sir!”

 The officer ran down the stairs leading to the lowest level of the house after she made her way cautiously through the kitchen; she shouldered her way into the basement and, after descending the last few steps, stopped near the base.

 “Get in here, quickly,” she yelled up to the others, rushing over to the middle of the cold, foul-smelling room. She reached up to cover her mouth in order to hold in a retch at the sight that greeted her upon arrival. Two other cops joined her shortly, both muttering a string of expletives.

 “Come on, let’s try to identify them…,” the first officer muttered, moving closer to the figures.

 A pair of corpses laid on the floor in a strange embrace, one so decayed that it looked like little more than a dark puddle of worm-filled goo with a few discernable chunks of flesh; the indicator that the slightly less decomposed one trapped it in a hug was only the humanoid shape of the liquid. The second cadaver was coated in a squirming layer of white parasites and brownish fluids which leaked out of multiple insect-ridden holes, but facial features and hair were not fully melted away just yet.

 “I’ll take a few samples into the lab for identification, you guys head back up and clear out the rest of the house to check for any other survivors… or bodies. It’s a big place, so get started now.”

 The remaining cops nodded and ran back up the stairs, leaving the other behind to collect the required hair samples.

 Officers were sent to the house relatively recently because they traced the DNA from a strand of dark hair found at the crime scene of Marie Stoller back to the residence of a young student named “Zachary Haine”. His parents had been missing for quite some time, a little over a month; they were sent to bring Zachary into custody as well as try to locate any remaining persons at his house. So far, these two bodies were the only ones found.

 “Two more corpses, master bedroom!”

 The faint call of urgency sounded from somewhere on the top floor, which caused the officer to hurriedly collect the hair strands in their designated bags then sprint out of the basement and up to the location of his fellow coworkers. 

 “I think… those may have been the kid’s parents. It’s hard to tell, but I have a hunch. Look, this was clearly their bedroom; there’s multiple pictures of them in here as well as their rings on that nightstand and some adult clothing in the closet. The people in the photographs look really similar to their son.”

 “Well, I think you’re right, but let’s grab some of their DNA samples as well to be sure of their identity. Already cleared out the rest of the house?” The cop asked the other as he bent down to pick up some remaining strands of hair with a new, unused tweezer.

 “Yes, sir,” another responded as he entered the room. “All cleared. We found some torture paraphernalia and tools covered in bodily fluids in one of the closets, and marked them off on a list so we can take them after the detective checks this scene out.”

 “Sounds good; I’ve collected all the evidence we need so far, so let’s head out of here now.”

                                                                         …   

 Detective Moore straightened up and wandered away from the master bedroom, jotting down a few observations on his leather notepad while muttering to himself.

 “Such a peculiar case,” he sighed, pocketing the miniature book and ballpoint pen.

 “Well, detective? Any idea what happened in this fucked up place?” The sergeant entered the chambers after knocking on the doorframe to capture the other man’s attention.

 “So you said that the lab results came in yesterday, and the four corpses were positively identified as Mr. and Mrs. Haine, their son Zachary, and Alistair Madden?”

 “That’s right.”

 “The tools that were found in the closet contained traces of Alistair’s DNA, along with the blood of his parents on a butcher knife in the cupboard?”

 “Mm-hm.”

 “From everything that I’ve observed so far, this is what I believe to have happened; Zachary must have murdered his parents when they suddenly ‘disappeared’; why he killed them, I’m not sure of. He then kidnapped and tortured Alistair to death, and I guess that he killed his girlfriend in order to hurt Alistair. He must have had some hatred for that boy, but I don’t know how that could cause such an act of cruelty… anyways, he most likely planned to kill his parents before Alistair because he knew that they would discover if he was torturing somebody in their basement.”

 Sergeant Coleson nodded thoughtfully as he pondered over the detective’s statements.

 “Hey, I have a weird thought and tell me if I’m wrong, but hear me out first. You asked how somebody could do something so cruel out of hatred, but what if it wasn’t because he hated Alistair Madden. I know this sounds super strange, but… what if he did it out of something like love?”

 Moore raised a brow. “Please elaborate.”

 “I heard from a private interview with a friend of Alistair’s after his disappearance that Alistair was sort of complaining to him about being ‘stalked’, or something. The friend kind of offhandedly said that Alistair thought that Zachary had a crush on him or something, which is why he was always following him. I mean, that’s why when he stopped going to school the friend mentioned Zachary’s name, he was worried that he did something to Alistair, which is why we were told to check for any bodies in the house when we were sent to arrest Zachary. Just think about it, Haine was probably deranged and did this out of an act of ‘love’,” the man said, creating quotation marks with his fingers.

 “It also explains why the corpse of Zachary was found embracing the remains of Alistair. He could just leave the basement whenever he wanted, he wasn’t trapped. He chose to stay there and die with Alistair.  It doesn’t make much sense, I know, but that’s what I’ve been thinking. Damn, that poor kid was seriously fucked up to do something like that.”

 Detective Moore exhaled heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to will away his developing headache.

 “I hoped you would say that, sergeant. I was thinking the exact same thing, but I was rather hesitant to say it, I suppose. It’s just a very sensitive thing to say, to blame such a horrible and unforgivable murdering spree on love. There isn’t really a better deduction, though, that I can provide with absolute certainty. Adding on to that, I can safely say that the murder of Marie Stoller was an act of jealousy and possessiveness.”

 “Yeah, I agree.”

 “Poor kid. I wish we were able to get him help before any of this happened,” Moore said with despair in his quiet voice as he walked towards the front door with the sergeant; they were met with the cacophony of loud, screeching sirens and yelling, and neon yellow crime tape surrounding the property. Authoritative figures rushed left and right, ordering the others to perform different tasks all around the house and yard.

 “Damn this commotion! I can hardly think anymore!”

 “I don’t want to think anymore. I’ve done enough of that today; I just want to forget this whole ordeal already.”

 The tired detective nodded, adjusting his gray overcoat as the wind roared up, ruffling the wavy ivory locks that framed his smooth, rather colorless face.

 “I’m getting too old for this.”

 Moore scoffed and made his way down the crowded driveway. “You’re 32, sergeant.” He studied the taller man’s youthful features; his dark brown hair, glimmering hazel eyes, and caramel complexion.

 “And you’re 33, yet you complain about migraines every other day.”

 “I’m off the rest of the week, so bring me my daily coffee. I won’t be leaving the house at all.”

They arrived at the detective’s shiny Mercedes at the end of the gravel road and paused walking.

 “Sure, fine. See you when I get home, Evan. I’ll be back at around 2AM, so don’t wait for me.”

 “Damon, you’re strange,” sighed the man as he closed the door of his car behind him. “See you tomorrow, and don’t you dare wake me up.” 

 Sergeant Coleson grinned and waved after the speeding car as he returned to the chaotic yard. One of his coworkers approached him with a mischievous smirk.

 “Hey, sir, how’s your husb-”

 “Get your ass back to work, officer,” snapped the man.

What a strange day… man, I can’t wait to go to sleep.

[intolerancecare]

I hate that people who don't like you keeps on meddling with people that you want to like. Gone.

Stop. You don't understand that I am not tied to my molester and that my family is just my family. I also worked on my own.

Let me guess, you've chosen a rehab man for me right? I am for the likes of them only?

You said in your world, ate also means ate. I am your ate? a big sister? Noona? In my figurative world, it means no. But they said yes.

You know that I'm a rebel, right? They gave me to wrong people; how can I trust that they are right?

You know, I also cried for Carlos. Even though his is just a potential relationship. I was just too excited because finally I can be freed from the people that I really don't like. That Indian named bastard's people. Served to me (Approached me because they think I was poorer than them) They will say because I am not as practical as them? It's because I am dealing with people like them. Sexually active people are successful right? Sex is also a mileage? Names of big people? Those people can talk to them and teach them? Hawkings?

Question? You haven't read my previous entries.

Going back to Carlos, I like the idea that we have common interest. He has skills that I already know and that I can admire, if not the work, at least the effort. Practice makes perfect anyway.

Devils should be clean? Tell me, based on their body and faces, are they the successful type? If they are myth busters, people who broke the norms, What is their output? their proof? Their devilish scheming conniving stories?

I'm thinking of returning the cat that I adopted. I'm done with my literary fantasy. I really wanted the small cat.

There is a student in my previous university who always aced the revies classes and who also aced the board exam. The mock test is always based on Mosby? and other foreign books or old exam. Our reviewers have memorized the pages and question numbers in every test. Our local board was different. The literature was different. It's like reading a Patterson and Nancy drew being the latter. I don't think that girl got an honorary award during graduation. I have a classmate in high school who got a laude award. I can't really comprehend how he was able to get an award like that. I know him. Even his behaviour (which of course reflects his learning attitude) His personality didn't change, so it means he is still the same. Now I am in FEU. Most of the people I know there took NCLEX (they are higher?) I am a fraud now? Like the people I hate? Too much for making me feel a lowly creature. 2 rehabs for my online posts.

I am a trash now.

How 'bout you? How clean are you behind your monitors?

Do you know me?

I failed in call centres? They don't know the answer. They can't tell us. Maybe they think that Americans are depress people who just needs counselling. Why would Americans ask about your knowledge of football games or the name of teams? A cable company need not to answer that. All your ads in US state will tell the game schedules. Wrong? So, we really should know the game? It's the peak season? Not Pay per view. No. A brochure of football teams. Scattered in the office. No schedule written (because it was printed before the season started) Genius? I also met a senior who dealt with customers as if he is a credit card agent. Duh, it was just a cable account. If the customer won't pay, their connection will be cut off. No need to keep their number and call them anytime you want. No dealings are necessary.

Faces of deprived people? Borrowed faces?

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future in You | 1.3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, no specific warnings for this chapter

…

“Bradshaw… I thought I told you not to call me.” Kenzie’s voice comes through the phone, clear and chirpy.

“I fucked up.” Bradley sighs.

“Already?” She frowns, “Bradley, I saw you yesterday — what could you possibly have done?” Bradley sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Could I come over? — You’re going to want to hit me, it’ll be easier.”

“I’ll come to you, give me twenty.” She agrees calmly.

Twenty minutes later, Kenzie’s sitting cross legged on his bed, her back resting against the wall and she’s staring at him like he’s stupid. Bradley’s leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, knowing that what he did was more than stupid.

“I’m sorry, isn’t that exactly what I told you not to do?”

“I walked over there and I was planning to tell him gently, y’know? - Take the pressure off and do it for her, it was stressing her out.” Bradley explains dejectedly. Kenzie shakes her head slowly at him.

“But then he had that attitude and that smug face - and I could tell he was mad at her, plus what kind of idiot doesn’t notice that the girl they’re sleeping with is in her fucking second trimester of pregnancy?”

Kenzie does have to agree with that one, it’s ridiculous that he had no idea at all.

“Is she showing much?” Kenzie asks.

“A little - like, it’s noticeable.” Bradley shrugs his shoulders.

“It still wasn’t your place to tell him, idiot.”

“Okay, but I did - it’s too late to change that,” Bradley says, still-half pouting, “She won’t talk to me. You need to tell her I’m sorry.”

“Me? - Bradshaw, you’re dumber than you look if you think that’s a good idea.”

“Why? You’re better with words than I am.”

“In what world do you think it’s a good idea to send your fuck buddy to patch things up with the mother of your child?” Kenzie reasons. She makes a great point, but Bradley’s caught up on one part of it in particular. His lips quirk slightly as he unfolds his arms and rests his hands on either side of the desk.

He raises his eyebrows, “So, we’re fuck buddies again?”

Kenzie grabs one of his two flat and uncomfortable pillows and launches it towards him, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Were you dropped on your head a lot as a child?” Kenzie asks, making Bradley chuckle. He crosses the room and presses one knee into the bed, dropping down to lay on his back, then groans.

“Fuck,” He mumbles, shaking his head, “How do I make it better?”

Kenzie shakes her head softly, letting out a heavy breath. She moves to lay at Bradley’s side, both of them staring at the ceiling.

“Give her some space, mainly for your own safety,” Kenzie decides that that should be the first point of call after what Bradley told her went down today. Jake begrudgingly saved Bradley from being tackled by an angry pregnant lady. “After that, I have no idea. I think I’d kill you.”

“That’s not helpful.” Bradley frowns.

Kenzie sighs softly, wondering what she did wrong karmically to be stuck here right now teaching the guy who taught her how to give good head, how to be a good man.

“Do you like her?” Kenzie asks.

Bradley’s quiet for a while. He hasn’t really ever considered it. You came into his life as a stranger, and now you’re his entire future - he hasn’t ever taken a step back to evaluate how he really feels about you.

He likes having you around. He finds you sexy. He finds himself thinking of you when you aren’t around. Whether you might want something from the grocery store, if you remembered a coat on particularly cold mornings, reminding himself to tell you when he finds a new show that you might like.

Considering it from this angle, it’s a definite realisation: he does like you.

“She’s pretty funny.” Bradley agrees, “And obviously she’s hot. But we just argue about stuff.”

“What kind of stuff do you argue about?” Kenzie prompts.

Bradley’s quiet for a moment while he considers it. He turns his head to look at her, lowering his voice sheepishly, “Stuff I’ve said, or done - or might do. Fuck.” He covers his face with his hands and groans.

His head still hurts a little. He thinks back to that look on your face as you stepped towards him while yelling. Him stumbling back with his hands out defensively. Jake standing to the side, watching it happen.

Him tripping as he was backing off and smacking his head into a cabinet.

“Okay - well, it sounds like if you stop being such a jackass, the two of you might actually get along.” Kenzie suggests, rolling onto her side to look at him. He stares at the ceiling.

She’s probably right.

“Where are you going with this?” Bradley knows that Kenzie has never passed up an opportunity to call him a jackass, but his ego is already bruised enough after the lecture he got from you earlier.

“I’m just saying, instead of sitting here, asking me how to make it better — maybe you should be over there groveling a little.”

You pull the covers up over your head and sniffle. You’re furious. At yourself, at him. At yourself for starting to let him in again.

Letting yourself fawn over him these past few days, pretend that he’s anything more than the stranger that you hooked up with on Halloween. You wipe your tears and stare at your phone screen, looking over the picture of you and him at your last doctor's appointment.

His arm draped around your shoulder, holding you in against his side, the sonogram picture held up in front of your stomach.

You throw your phone down onto the bed, turning and pressing your face into the pillow. You brush your fingers across your stomach, wiping hurriedly at your cheeks as you look down at it. Your skin is less soft now, it’s becoming more of a structured roundness every day - before you know it, the baby will be here.

The baby deserves grown ups for parents. People who care about each other, and agree on things, and will be living in the same city. You and Bradley can’t even manage one of those things.

You whimper softly, then push yourself to sit. Your eyes widen. The voice in the hallway grows closer.

“I’ll tell her, thanks.” Bradley nods, pushing open the door to your room without knocking. He stills in the doorway, not liking the look on your face. He immediately raises his hands in defense.

He shoots a glance back at your roommate like she’s likely to help him. She’s not, she heads straight for her room.

“Get. Out.” You growl at him.

He must be stupid if he has come back to be yelled at for the second time that day, but you’re sure that you’re capable of getting your point across once again.

“I’m here to apologize.” He reasons, not daring to move from the spot. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, frowning slightly at you.

“I don’t want to hear it, you selfish fuck! Get! Out!”

Bradley sighs softly, he leans his head back, “I’m sorry, okay? I overstepped. I shouldn’t have told him, it wasn’t my place.”

You push yourself up, standing before him. You’re wearing a cropped white t-shirt and some sweatpants. His eyes fall down to look at your stomach, his face softening.

He knows you’re about to yell at him, he speaks quickly - he needs to get you to hear his reasoning.

“I didn’t do it to hurt you, I was trying to protect you,” Bradley rushes out. You glare at him. “Come on, you show up looking like you’re about to burst into tears? - It was obvious the two of you had been fighting, and you were stressed out of your mind. I had to do something.”

“You didn’t have to do that!” You bite back.

“I know, I know,” Bradley agrees, seemingly regretfully. He steps back quickly as you step towards him. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough, you asshole!” You snap at him.

“You were dating him for like a month, there’ll be other guys.” Bradley frowns. Your eyes narrow at him. Bradley takes another step back, bumping into the wall behind him.

“Don’t be an idiot - how many guys our age do you know that want to date a girl with a kid?” You snap at him, stepping forwards. Bradley frowns. His immediate instinct is to argue back - to remind you that you wanted this, that it was all your choice, not his. But he doesn’t.

His face softens slightly, “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place to tell him.”

You swallow, frowning at him. You want to scream at him, and shove him and tell him what an asshole he is. But, you’re going to be a mother - he’s going to be a dad.

You don’t want your kid to have parents that scream at each other constantly.

“I’ll do anything I can to make it better, okay? - I’m serious,” Bradley finally takes one step towards you. “About this baby, about being better for you, and for them. I don’t want to fight with you.”

He reaches out and tenderly touches your arm. You look down at his hand on your skin, then up at him. Bradley waits for your forgiveness, brushing his fingertips along your bicep.

“If I’m not getting laid, neither are you.” You tell him firmly.

His brows furrow slightly, “What?”

“That would make it better. If I have to do this alone, so do you.” You decide. It’s petty, sure, but you can’t stand the thought of watching him parade girls around you for the next few months, while you know you’ll be alone.

“You’re kidding.” Bradley frowns. He hasn’t gone longer than maybe two weeks without sex since he lost his virginity.

“I’m so serious.” You deadpan.

He stares at you, like you’re going to crack and tell him that you’re just joking.

“Okay. Well, I mean, we could-“ He motions between the two of you and takes a small step closer. You press your hand to his chest, glaring at him.

“If you think I’m going to let you touch me ever again, you’re wrong.” You explain firmly. Bradley lets out a soft breath. Abstinence for the next five months. That’s a long time.

Either that, or you stay mad at him. He thinks of how much he’ll miss out on if you’re upset with him. Sure, he can go to the appointments - but he’ll miss the kicks, the cravings, the small things. He doesn’t want that.

“Fine. Anything you want,” Bradley agrees, nodding his head uncertainly. He gives you a tight-lipped smile, “No sex. We’re in it together. I’m sorry.”

You give a small nod. It doesn’t make it better, but it does make you feel better that he’ll be suffering as much as you will. He opens his arms.

“No.” You frown at him. He steps closer, arms still open. You point at him, “No.”

He wraps his arms around you, feeling you tense against him. He smiles, resting his cheek on top of your head, “Just so we’re clear… if you have sex, I can have sex - right? - that’s the deal?”

“No one’s going to have sex with a pregnant girl, dumbass - look.” You pull back, resting your hands on the bottom of your stomach, “Do you really think I’ll be picking up guys when I’m in my third trimester?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I think the bump is cute.”

“Because it’s yours,” You scoff, turning away from him, settling back down against your pillows and opening up your laptop. Bradley stands there, staring at you. It is his bump, and he does think that it’s cute. “You wouldn’t look twice at me otherwise.”

That’s also probably true. He walks into the room and scoots into bed beside you. You shoot him a warning look and shift over so that there’s distance between the two of you.

“Can I ask you something?” Bradley asks.

“No.” You answer bluntly. It’s important to remind him that just because he made one correct choice, that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.

“How the fuck did he not notice?” Bradley asks. He remembers your body before, and he’s looking at it now. It’s a subtle change, but a change nonetheless. He’s certain that if he was sleeping with a girl for over a month, he would notice that she was in her second trimester of pregnancy.

“I think he didn’t want to notice.” You answer softly. The signs were there. Ryan believed everything you said without question. Never second guessed the tender breasts, or the sensitivity to smells, or the fact that you had been wanting to keep your shirt on more often than not recently.

Bradley frowns, feeling something under his leg. He pulls your phone out from under him, looking between you and the photo on the screen.

You glance down, then snatch it away from him, locking it. He sighs softly, folding his arms as he settles against your headboard. You shift further from him, still frowning.

“So did you think any more about names?” He says quietly. It’s an olive branch. You look up at him, then roll your eyes, ignoring him completely.

He leans his head back to look at the ceiling. His life was a lot less complicated before you. He knows yours was a lot less complicated before him. Bradley wishes that things were different. Maybe if the two of you had dated before, or had even got to know each other before - that maybe this would be easier.

You glare at him periodically as you work on your assignment. You don’t say it out loud, but there’s no reason for him to be here - he said what he needed to say, he could just leave.

He stays anyway.

…

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[chopper-witch]

Ritual 777 - Chapter 3: Dear God

Eddie Muson x female!reader; Jennifer’s Body!AU

Minors DNI. I will find and tell your parents or guardians.

Story title inspired by Ritual 777 by Temple Twins

Chapter title inspired by Dear God by Lawless, Sydney Wayser

Full playlist (working - not finished aka will change)

WC: 1,800+

Warnings: implied abuse, murder (again), forced religion, Will Byers has gone missing, I give reader backstory and will continue to do so sorry. 

A/N: This chapter has no Eddie in it at all again, but I am cutting chapter length like nobody’s business to get to the Eddie part faster, especially after THAT. But all this and the next two chapters (yes, I’m an asshole, sorry) make the Eddie parts so much better, I promise. I apologize for any mistakes, please remember I have dyslexia. 

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--

Forgive me father, for I have sinned. 

No. That’s not right. 

Father, forgive me, for I am going to sin. 

No. No that’s all wrong. 

Father, perhaps you have sins to confess to as well? I won’t tell. But I am merciful and if you by chance confess honestly, I may let you serve me rather than just die. 

No. No, he’ll run. He’ll scream. 

—

November 7, 1983

“What’s this?” You ask, waving the paper around after it’s been pressed into your hands.

Jackie, the junior class president who replaced you after you got bumped to body president, smacks your back and you give her a death glare, not that she even sees. “A middle schooler went missing. As student body president, it’s your job to help with the assembly.”

“He probably just got lost on his walk. Who fucking cares?” 

Silence falls over the council meeting room. The entire room freezes. The freshman president, sophomore president, junior president, and senior president all open their mouths in shock.

“Are you okay?” Fred, one of the school paper kids finally asks.

You blink in confusion. “I’m actually fantastic.”

“A kid is missing. And could be dead. And you just asked who would care. Did you hit your head or something?” The senior class president, Kelsey, puts her arms on your shoulder and squeezes. 

You always thought her eyes were pale blue, hair a dark blond. 

But there is something more to her eyes. Something green, something brown, something silver. And her hair? Tiny evidence of damage likely from dying it. But not lightening it, dying it. Who dyes their hair darker? 

“None of us have ever seen you like this before,” she finishes.

You stare at them all blankly for a second.

It’s just a stupid kid. Who gives a fuck about some random child? Especially some kid who probably just got lost on his way home.

Oh. Oh shit. You. You should. 

A week ago you would have been begging people to help, leading the charge in the high school to find whoever this is. Getting called annoying behind your back, probably. 

“People won’t miss her though. No one even notices her most of the time and those who do are just annoyed. They voted for her to get her to shut up.”

“I think I might be sicker than I thought,” you explain, body slumping a little. You rub your forehead for extra emphasis after gently pushing Kelsey away.

Despite feeling like you are gliding, flying, soaring, maybe you are sick. Dying even. Would make infinitely more sense than whatever else could be going on. 

Kelsey nods. “You should go home. Get rest. You look better, but you are clearly still sick. We can handle this without you.” 

You bite your tongue to stop the words you want to say. 

No, you can’t. You guys have no fucking idea what you are doing. You never have.

“You’re right. You’re right.”

So you turn right back around and leave long before school even starts, hoping back onto your bike and riding away from the still mostly empty school.

On your way back home, you bike past the church Cherie used to bring you to when you had to stay with her. Everyone in this house will at least visit the house of God, her parents said. 

One of their worst traits. 

Of a long list. 

You love them, you do, and they’ve done so much. Coming from generational wealth does something to the brain, though. Eats away at it, maybe. Definitely eats away at their actual sympathy center. Moved you into an apartment all your own when the last local family member finally up and left, but wouldn’t dare let you live with them. Not in their house, no. Help the troubled, the less fortunate, but don’t let them into our homes permanently. 

But perhaps the pastor has answers. Or something. Anything. A godly man must know about the devil, right?

With a deep breath and a major thrumming of regret running through you, you enter. 

You stop at the third pew on the right, where the Beaumonts always sit. Cherie never goes anymore, but the rest of her family does. 

“It can be good for you, sweetheart.” Cherie’s mother leans down to squeeze you. “You don’t need to believe. You just need to be around people.”

“Can I help you with something?” A voice asks, breaking you from your reverie. 

You turn to find an unfamiliar woman, likely someone who began volunteering since you last came. 

“Hi, yes, actually. Is Pastor Herman in?”

“He is. Just in his office.” She pauses then, blocking your way around her and towards the way to the office. “What is that you need? Perhaps I could help?”

Can she tell? 

Is your skin bubbling, changing color even? Or are your eyes different — demon-like? 

Is it not safe for you to be on consecrated grounds?

“Visiting him,” you reply, an edge obvious in your voice. “Been a long time since I came around and I just wanted to say hi.”

She just smiles and waves past her. “Of course, go right ahead.”

It’s an unfortunately familiar path. One you hoped you would never take again. 

But here you are, gently knocking on his open door, waiting to be let inside. 

“Come in,” he says, but he does not look up. 

“Hi.”

Now he looks up. And his eyes widen as if he is looking at a ghost, or perhaps even a demon. But something that should not be in this place.

“I haven’t seen you here since… well, it’s been some time.”

Maybe you’re just being paranoid.

You exhale a breath you did not know you were holding. “Yes it has, Father.” 

“Well, what brings you back then?” 

You tentatively step closer. 

“I have a question for you. It’s kind of… strange though.”

“I’m here to listen to your strange questions. No judgment from me, that isn’t my job.” He laughs. 

You just awkwardly smile. 

“Please, sit.”

And you do, slinging your backpack to the ground and sitting across from him at his desk like you have hundreds of times before. 

“So, what is it that has you concerned?”

You nervously exhale. You can’t tell him you were sacrificed. That’s insane, ridiculous. He wouldn’t believe it. And if he did, then he’d try to parade you around like some sort of miracle or accuse you of being pure evil. 

“On Halloween, you know, everyone gets over-excited about evil things. So I overheard some kids talking about Revelations. Specifically the section about the Whore of Babylon. I only got bits and pieces of this…” you pause. Inhale. Exhale. “Conversation, but they also spoke of sacrifices to the devil and stabbing said person, a virgin apparently, seven times. I guess I’m just wondering if someone was sacrificed, could evil enter them?”

Pastor Herman leans forward, brows stitching together in confusion.

“Why is this on your mind?”

Because I think something terrible happened to me.

“Well, that kid went missing a week after they were talking about it. So it just has me thinking. What if they did unleash an evil?”

The pastor leans back in his seat, face dropping to become unreadable. “I think in a lot of ways, the evil discussed is the evil of our own humanity. It’s easier to blame others than to blame ourselves. So I don’t think it is likely they unleashed a real demon into the world, even if they tried to sacrifice someone. That’s not how evil is unleashed, ultimately.” 

Unless it is.

“Of course. Of course. Thank you.” You begin to get up, already needing to get out. 

But he stands too

“You should come back to Sunday worship. You and Cherie. Would be nice to see you both.”

“I’ll consider it, Father.”

He pats your shoulder. 

There is a flash of black. 

Then everything is back to normal. 

That was.. weird. Maybe you should go to the doctor, get actually checked out by a professional. Cannibalism surely is a sign of something, right? Maybe you’re actually rabid and everything has just been a fever dream.

Until you hear a whimper. 

You glance down to see a girl only a bit younger than you on her knees, crying.

Ophira. But Ophira moved a few years ago, halfway through the fall semester.

“What did I tell you about sinners, child?” Pours from your mouth. Not your voice though. Someone else’s - the pastors. 

There is a sob from Ophira. 

“Hey, you okay?” The office returns to normal, Pastor Herman standing in front of you instead of Ophira kneeling in front of you. “You just got a little… blank look for a moment.”

You look him directly in his lying, sinning blue eyes and smile. 

“You know what? I think I will come back next Sunday.” 

—

Gods let bad things happen. 

Or make bad things happen. 

Gods don’t punish the evil. 

That’s the job of the evil. 

Or the job of the evil gods? 

As you lick your fingers clean of the pastor, an overwhelming peace settles in you. 

Who punishes the punishers? Who punishes the gods? 

Who punishes the devil? 

No one. 

But you’ve become the evil, the punisher. The demon creeping in the night to seduce people to commit acts of sin and punish them for it. 

And no one punishes you. 

—

November 14, 1983

“Did you hear they found the pastor dead in his office this morning?” Whispers one of the council members. 

“Seriously? That is… and the kid is still missing. What is going on?” 

“Maybe there is a monster loose in Hawkins.”

“Or maybe it’s just a bunch of weird coincidences,” you interject, setting down your backpack on the main table. “Those do happen sometimes.” 

Jackie turns to you. “Hey. You’re back. And look… really good?”

You take a little curtesy, showing off the new dress and sweater you bought with stolen dead man money. “I feel really good. Whatever it was got fully flushed finally.”

Just took four men and a week to relearn my attitude.

“Also, that red lipstick looks amazing on you.”

You furrow your brows before snatching a mirror from one of the newspaper staff. Your lips are a tint of red. 

Suppose blood doesn’t like to come off of them. It glows on your skin, however. Your fingers run along your lips to find them not chapped like they were last week, but perfectly smooth and oh so more kissable than they have ever looked.

“And the matching nails,” Kelsey says. “Completes it.”

A smile yanks at your lips before you can stop it and you toss the mirror back. 

“They do. I was trying it out for the first time, wasn’t sure if they would work.”

Kelsey smiles. “Well, they do.”

“Thank you. Now, since I missed an entire week, please tell me someone has an agenda set up already.”

“Right here,” one of the freshman council members of no real rank who is honestly on it only because he is too nervous for other clubs and doesn’t have the guts to run for an actual position confirms, sliding the paper in front of you.  

No, no you aren’t the devil creeping in the night punishing the evil. 

As you settle into your seat at the head of the table, watching as everyone else files into their spots to listen to you, watch you, do your bidding…

You realize you can be a fucking god. 

No. 

Not a god. 

God. 

Do a lot more good than that one the pastor always droned on about. You’re actually on Earth, for one. You already eliminated four sinners. 

You are just beginning. 

“Can I make just a quick suggestion to the agenda?” You ask. 

Kelsey shrugs. “It’s your meeting, always has been.” 

---

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[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 8)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: underage drinking, angst, hoseok’s bare abs

Word Count: 10,705

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“Okay, even you have to admit this is too soon.” Finn stared, appalled at the chalkboard. “It’s not even Halloween!”

Laughing a little, you looped your arm around his to drag him towards the back. Plopping down in a chair, you placed your order number in the center of the table. Seating himself across the table from you, Finn began to undo his coat.

“Come on.” He grinned, brown hair flopping when he leaned forward. “Admit it – this is too early for holiday drinks.”

“Okay, maybe it’s a little early,” you acquiesced. “But Halloween is tomorrow! They probably just put up the holiday drinks so they don’t have to do it on Sunday.”

“Laziness!” he cried, jabbing a finger in the air.

Shaking your head, you smiled when Namjoon, the barista, placed a pumpkin soy latte before you.

“Thanks!” you said, pulling this towards you.

“No problem,” he said, flashing his dimples before he turned to leave.

Taking a long, slow sip of your drink, you groaned. “Oh my god. This is it. This is heaven.”

Finn laughed. “Is that seriously your first pumpkin drink of the season?” Sadly, he shook his head. “I remember our senior year, you dragged me out of bed at 7:00 AM on a Saturday just to get the first pumpkin drink of the year.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But I’ve needed the extra caffeine jolt each morning. Sweet drinks just don’t cut it anymore.”

“Ah, the first step in addiction.” Finn nodded sagely.

Smiling, you settled back in your seat as he took the first sip of his black coffee. It had been two weeks since your fight at the club and since then, Finn had been on his best behavior. For about a week, things between you had been awkward but slowly, your relationship was returning to normal.

Seated in the corner of your favorite coffee shop, you drank from your cup and glanced around the room. This was what you’d pictured when you imagined you and Finn living in the city together. Coffee dates, going on new adventures and continuing your relationship where it had left off.

Of course, this morning was only possible because Miss Britt’s ballet class had been cancelled. A contemporary master class had been scheduled for the afternoon, but your day before then was free – something you’d immediately taken advantage of by calling Finn. It was becoming easier to fit each other into your schedules, more like second nature, but things were still tense whenever things didn’t line up.

None of this was eased by the burgeoning whatever-it-was you’d shoved to the back of your mind regarding Jimin. Since the day of Mr. Vlad’s ballet class, you’d managed to keep your emotions in check, but were constantly on the lookout for dangerous situations. You and Jimin were professionals, obviously, but you were also only human. It was reasonable to have subconscious wants and desires, but these weren’t important unless you chose to act upon them.

You didn’t tell Finn about it because honestly, there was nothing to tell. Okay, so you’d felt an errant spark one day during a lift. Big deal. Finn had been your boyfriend for over two years – it would take more than that to threaten your relationship. A relationship which, frankly, had been getting stronger as of late. Telling him something as inconsequential as a spark you had with Jimin would only take you further down the wrong path.

“Are you sure you’re okay with us doing separate things tomorrow?” Finn interrupted your thoughts. His brow furrowed. “It is Halloween, after all.”

“Ah, yes.” You nodded. “Halloween, the internationally known couple’s holiday.”

He laughed. “Okay, point made – but still.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. This was something you’d already been over. “It just makes sense like this! Your friends are going to that off-campus party and I promised Noelle I’d go to this club thing with her.”

“Right, of course.” Finn grinned. “I’m bummed I’ll miss seeing you as the Powerpuff girls, though. Who’s going to be the third one, again?”

“Well, I’m Blossom – obviously.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Miss Responsibility.”

A twinge of annoyance went through you, but you pushed it aside. You didn’t think you were always the responsible one but admittedly, you’d been more on edge than usual lately.

“Anyways,” you continued with a roll of your eyes. “I’m Blossom, Noelle is Buttercup and Irene is going as Bubbles. It’ll be fun! Aside from the whole club part, of course.”

“It does sound fun,” Finn admitted, a tad mournful. “Meanwhile, I’ve been roped into the classic college bro costume of Ghostbusters.”

“Oh, come on! That is classic! You’ll be super cute in your… suit? Cargo pants? What do Ghostbusters wear again?”

“Knowing Ben, something tragic from Party City. Pray for me.”

“I’ll light candles.”

Finn grinned, sipping his coffee again and your conversation slipped naturally to other topics.

Halloween fell on a Saturday this year, which meant every college campus was gearing up for some epic parties. Noelle had managed to snag tickets to a club fancy enough to require an RSVP. Apparently, said brother she missed was a DJ and could get tickets to a lot of things if Noelle bothered to ask.

A bunch of people from Russet were going, which made you excited. There hadn’t been many parties with your classmates so far this semester. Despite technically being in college, your classmates were all under the same intense pressure, only made worse by constant early morning ballet.

This week though, even your teachers seemed to have decided you needed a break. Aside from the master class you had this afternoon, there were zero Russet classes until Monday morning. The break in schedule meant you could actually go out – and drink – if you so decided. You and Noelle were planning on attending a ballet class tomorrow, but your entire day after would be free.

You’d originally planned on seeing Finn during the day, but then he’d been invited to a Halloween darty (day party) starting at noon. Despite not seeing Finn on Halloween, you weren’t feeling stressed. It was only one holiday and not even a couple’s one, as you’d said.

After coffee, you kissed Finn goodbye and headed to class at Danley Hall. The atmosphere was different as soon as you entered the classroom – all of the students were buzzing, excited by the prospect of the weekend ahead. The excitement only grew when coupled with the fact that today’s class was contemporary.

For nearly two months, your training had been mostly ballet. This was the foundation of all western dance, and where most dance students were expected to start. Finally though, you were being given a chance to show off. Today’s teacher, Luna Jordan, was a well-known contemporary choreographer across the globe.

You’d done a master class with her once back in high school and honestly couldn’t wait to learn from her again. She wasn’t alone, though, you noticed as you walked in – an unfamiliar, dark-haired guy stood beside her, stretching lithely before the room’s mirror.

“Holy shit,” Noelle whispered as she came to a stop. “That’s Jeon Jungkook.”

Startled, you looked twice and saw she was right. You hadn’t recognized him without his bevy of followers, but Jeon Jungkook was known in the dance world. A child prodigy, he’d been on America’s Got Talent at age eleven and finished in second place. Following this, his family had moved to LA and he’d been in high demand for movies, music videos and performances ever since.

You remembered hearing he worked with Luna Jordan, but the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before now that he might be here.

Noelle cocked her head to one side. “He’s hot.”

“Noelle,” you hissed, trying to shush her.

“What!” A devious grin spread across her face. “Am I supposed to be blind, as well as mute?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Alright, everyone!” Miss Luna clapped her hands together. “I know everyone is excited for the weekend, but we unfortunately have an hour and a half together before then. Everyone spread out for warm-ups!”

A few people laughed, spreading out on the floor as class began. Noelle wriggled her eyebrows, pulling you towards the front in order to get the best spot. Hiding a smile, you ducked your head and settled beside her into a stretch.

Noelle was nearly as excited as you were for the opportunity to dance contemporary. Most of your classmates knew this to be your forte – you caught glances from the corner of your eye while you warmed up, trying not to let their attention get to your head.

Jimin was also near the front, although on the opposite side. You suspected your class was equally excited to see him perform – as talented as Jimin was at ballet, there was a reason you hadn’t thought he’d be at Russet this fall. Jimin’s strength in jazz and contemporary was unparalleled. You would’ve thought he’d gone to LA to become a dancer like Jungkook.

Speaking of whom – Jungkook really was attractive; that much couldn’t be denied. He had dark, wavy hair pulled into a bun and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. When he glanced up from his stretch, his gaze somehow found yours and he smiled.

Eyes widening, you stared until you caught sight of Jimin behind him. Glancing between the two of you, Jimin’s expression soured before he looked away. Lips parting, you felt the sudden urge to say something, but there was too much distance between you.

“You ready?” Miss Luna called, an upbeat pop song blasting from the stereo. “Let’s go!”

She launched into isolations, leaving the rest of the class to follow. Warm-ups passed quickly and before you knew it, you were gathered at center to learn the combination. Miss Luna’s style was right up your alley. The steps came easily and, once you’d learned the whole chorus, she left you alone to practice.

You were helping Ari with a difficult move when you caught sight of Sabrina as you turned. She’d positioned herself near the back, which had to be a first. Usually, Sabrina was front and center to allow for maximum receipt of teacher praise.

The decision to stand near the back could’ve been strategy – sometimes, dancers did that at conventions. Conventions were giant weekends of competition with teachers from all over the globe who taught master classes to hundreds of dancers in hotel ballrooms and convention centers. Space at the front tended to be limited, so some stayed at the back, where there was more room to dance and be seen. You had a greater likelihood to capture the teacher’s attention when you had the room to do incredible leaps.

Sabrina’s decision didn’t seem strategic, though. While you watched, Sabrina stumbled transitioning from one move to the next. A brief twinge of pity went through you.

It was easy enough to spot ballerinas dancing anything but ballet. Although ballet was the root of modern westernized dance, it could be hard to translate into other styles. Ballet was more rigid than contemporary, jazz or hip-hop. In ballet, each position was defined, individual style was limited, and dancers were expected to all look the same. Standing out in the corps de ballet was equally frowned upon as missing an entrance.

Not that ballet wasn’t important to all dance styles, mind you. Even hip-hop dancers took ballet to improve their balance, core strength and general understanding of the body. There was an element of individuality in other dance styles, though, which lacked in ballet. Contemporary and hip-hop dancers were expected to have relentless technique all while creating their own, unique flair.

Just looking at Sabrina you could clearly see the holes. She was trying so hard to emulate the moves of Miss Luna, she was kind of missing the point. When Miss Luna did a certain flick of the wrist, it wasn’t a defined part of the choreography, but rather an individual choice.

Without thinking, you took a step forward – only to stop. Sabrina wouldn’t want your help; she’d already made that abundantly clear. Besides, you knew her friend Katie to be a contemporary dancer. She could help Sabrina and yet, when you looked, you saw Katie practicing near the front with Jungkook.

Jungkook obviously knew the steps, since this was probably the tenth time he’d learned the combination. Dance teachers often did that – selected a dancer to attend classes with them, traveling to different cities to demonstrate the combination and help when they weren’t free.

Before you could decide whether to help Sabrina, Miss Luna clapped her hands again.

“Let’s do groups!” she declared. “I’ll count you off into groups of four, and each group will showcase. Sound good?”

It wasn’t really a question so much as an announcement. The rest of the class nodded, waiting while Miss Luna counted you off. You ended up in the same group as Irene, Paulo and a few others. Jimin and Noelle were in the group two, while Sabrina was in the group after theirs.

Jogging off to the side, you waited while the first group took center. You were part of group four, which meant you’d be amongst the last to dance on the floor. When the music began, you closed your eyes and began to mark the combination. You tried not to focus on what anyone else was doing, but this became difficult once Noelle’s group stepped up.

Noelle had trained in jazz and contemporary, although she’d stopped in high school to focus mainly on ballet. Still, her artistry shone in her movement. She could definitely stand to loosen up a bit but was still one of the best in the bunch. You found yourself smiling when she landed a turn, silently cheering her on from the side.

While you were watching, Jimin cut across your vision.

Dropping to the ground, he rolled and arched as his forehead brushed wood. His quality of movement was breathtaking and for a moment, you felt like you were back in high school.

Suddenly returned to those dimmed auditoriums, you watched Jimin take the stage like an otherworldly being. His body seemed to move before your mind could comprehend. Barely did he finish one move before he was starting another, the steps flowing endlessly together like unhindered water. Although you knew the combination and knew how you would dance it, watching Jimin perform was a different experience entirely.

Ballet required dancers to stay on the beat but in contemporary, they were expected to lag. Extensions were all the more breathtaking when they clung to the last second, seeming as though the dancer might not make it before they caught up. Jimin was an expert in this, knowing exactly when to hang precariously over the edge and when to pull back.

Watching him dance, that pesky, strange something bloomed in your chest again.

Squashing this quickly, you looked away and resumed marking the combo. The end of the song was improvisation though and, unable to stop yourself, you found your attention drifting to Jimin again. He was ridiculously beautiful – you nearly didn’t hear when Miss Luna called for them to stop. As she turned off the music, she applauded the group while they walked from the floor.

Breathing heavily, Noelle came to a stop alongside you and – somewhat guiltily, since you hadn’t been watching – you gave her a high-five.

“That was awesome!” you said with a grin. “You definitely stood out in the group.”

Noelle snort-laughed. “Not with Jimin up there, but that’s okay. This is his specialty – and yours,” she added with a wink. “I’m psyched for group four.”

“Ah,” you groaned, rubbing your neck. “Too much pressure.”

Noelle laughed, shaking her head as group three took the floor. Both of you fell silent to watch, your curious gaze finding Sabrina in the back. Sabrina looked almost nervous; an emotion which seemed out of place on her features. It made her look almost human.

As soon as the music began, you stifled a wince. Sabrina stood out from the group, and not in a good way. She had the combination down but moved with a woodenness you would’ve expected from someone half her age. It was enough for you to glance at Miss Luna, wondering if she had noticed.

“Wow,” Noelle whispered, looking almost gleeful. “Sabrina is terrible.”

“Noelle!” you whisper-laughed.

“What? After everything she’s done? After everything she’s said?” Noelle’s gaze narrowed. “Sabrina deserves this.”

Despite privately agreeing, you couldn’t help but feel bad as Sabrina continued. Not wanting to watch any longer, you turned towards the front and resumed marking the combo. As soon as Miss Luna cut the music and polite clapping ensued, you turned back around.

It was time for group four. A shaky, sick feeling entered your stomach as you walked to center. So many eyes were on you, but it had been so long since you danced contemporary. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were as good as people seemed to imagine. Surrounded by so many dancers at Russet, surely your own talent would pale in comparison.

As soon as the music began though, everything faded. Insecurities slipping away, a lightness entered your chest as, eyes falling shut, you slowly inhaled.

Taking a step forward, you opened your eyes and began.

To you, dance had several phases. The first was learning, where you memorized each step and put them in order. The second was understanding, where your muscle memory began to take over and the combination felt smoother. The final phase, performance, was when you thought not of the steps, and were free to just dance.

This was your favorite phrase. In this phase, your mind separated from your body, leaving you only with sweat and emotion. Dance was the only art form composed solely of the body. An odd combination of physical strength and artistic beauty, it was both a testament to human capability and human emotion.

Losing yourself in the music, you ebbed and flowed through the combination until the choreography ended and improvisation began. Finally, you let go and held nothing back. Raw, unbridled passion poured out as you lost sight of yourself, so consumed by the movement.

When the song finally finished and you came to a stop, you were panting for breath. Glancing up, the first person you saw was Jimin.

He stood off to one side, leaning casually against the rungs of the barre, but his expression was anything but. Focused on you, his gaze had turned dark in a way which made you catch your breath.

Miss Luna clapped both hands once again, returning your attention to her. Blinking, Jimin shook his head and in your peripheral, you saw him straighten.

“Very good!” Miss Luna scanned the group. “I know our time is nearly at and end, but why don’t we have a few students come out and demonstrate?”

Again, this was fairly common in master classes. After learning the combination, teachers would often single out students to perform as examples. It wasn’t always the students with the best technique who got chosen. Oftentimes, it was as much for passion and performance quality.

Taking a step forward, Miss Luna began to call out names. You were one of the first – setting your water down, you jogged back to center. Jimin was the next person called, then Noelle, much to your excitement. Jungkook was also instructed to join on the floor.

Turning the lights halfway down, Miss Luna pressed play and let you improvise until the combination began. Jungkook started dancing and honestly, he was beautiful, but you couldn’t linger on him for long. 

Catching sight of Jimin again, you were once more transported to earlier times. This wasn’t the first time you’d been called out together. Oftentimes, this had happened at conventions but back then, your mind had been too clouded to see him for who he was.

You’d always wanted to beat him in high school, but now, you were consumed by the oddest desire to see him do well.

Glancing up, Jimin caught your gaze and he smiled – but then, the combination began.

By the time you were finished, you could hardly catch your breath but somehow, you felt the most alive you’d been in ages. Back in your own element, surrounded by some of the most amazing dancers in the world – this was what you’d imagined when you came to Russet.

People around the room clapped, some of them begrudgingly. You got the impression many of your classmates weren’t used to not being chosen. As you walked from the floor, you saw surprisingly, Sabrina wasn’t amongst them.

Instead, Sabrina simply looked tired – as though she’d tried her best and it hadn’t been enough. You knew that look. You sympathized with that look.

The look lingered in the back of your mind while you packed up your things and listened to Noelle discuss Halloween tomorrow. When she mentioned Ari had decided to visit her family this weekend, an idea began to form in your mind.

“Wait,” you interrupted, looking up. “Ari can’t come tomorrow?”

Noelle shook her head. “Her brother just turned eighteen, so her whole family is having a party or something.”

“So… her ticket is free, then?”

“Yes…” Noelle paused. “Why? Y/N, what are you planning?”

“Okay. Hear me out,” you said as you shrugged on your coat. It was cold enough now for the coat to be necessary.

Noelle sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, I’m listening.”

Glancing away, you saw Sabrina packing her things on the other side of the room. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you returned to Noelle.

“What if we invited Sabrina?”

Noelle snorted. “Pass.”

“Noelle,” you laughed, reaching out for her arm. “Come on! Do you really think she’s doing anything for Halloween?”

“Probably not. And that’s her own fault.”

“Maybe,” you said, glancing at Sabrina once more. “But how could it hurt? We have an extra ticket, there’ll be tons of people tomorrow night. She’ll probably say no – at least this way, you can claim a write-off on your way into heaven!”

Noelle upper lip twitched. “Oh, is that how write-offs work?”

“Well, I can only assume.”

Finally, she laughed. “Ugh, fine. You can invite her – but only because it’s Halloween, and Halloween is a time for peace. And slutty costumes.”

“Thanks, babe,” you said, squeezing her waist in a one-armed hug.

Sighing exaggeratedly, Noelle waved aside your thanks. Hiking your bag higher, you began to make your way across the room. As you closed in on Sabrina, you began to rethink your choice. It had been nearly a month since anything bad had happened between you but still, you found yourself feeling wary. As tough as you pretended to be, rejection hurt you just as much as the next person.

Still, dancing with Jimin had been a reminder of just how bitter your relationship used to be. If that relationship could change, you had to imagine things with Sabrina could, too.

Coming to a stop at her bag, you waited for her to look up. When she finally did, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

“What?” Sabrina asked, sounding defensive. “What do you want, Y/N?”

You couldn’t really blame her for her suspicion. Had your situations been reversed, you would’ve been equally distrustful. It was likely Sabrina thought you were coming over to gloat, or say something to do with class today. Another twinge of pity went through you as Sabrina zipped her bag shut to stand.

“I just wanted to know what you were doing tomorrow,” you said, trying to smile. “Noelle has an extra ticket to a Halloween party, and we thought you might like to come.”

Sabrina stared. “What?”

“Tomorrow is Halloween,” you said, a bit slower. “You know – when we were kids, it was all about costumes and candy. Now, it’s about costumes and booze?”

Sabrina failed to crack a smile. “And you want… me to come to this party?”

Something about the way she said this made you sad, as though she genuinely thought this might be a joke. As though at any moment, someone might jump out and yell SIKE.

“Yeah,” you said, softening a little. “Look – it’s not a big deal if you can’t make it. A bunch of our class is going though, so we thought of you.”

Sabrina hesitated, then glanced at the door. “Okay,” she said, looking back. “Okay, yeah. I’ll come.”

Stifling your surprise, you nodded. “Great. I’ll text you where to meet us tomorrow before the club. Wear a costume,” you added before walking away. “Noelle said it’s required.”

“Alright,” Sabrina said, so quiet you almost missed it.

Walking away, you were nearly at the door when Jungkook popped up before you. Flashing a smile, he fixed a loose strand of hair away from his face. Feet fumbling to a stop, you could only stare.

“Y/N, right?” he said, sounding shy.

Unable to find the words, you blinked in response. The way Jungkook danced had been so confident, you’d only assumed this to be his off-floor persona, as well. Hearing him sound shy was unexpected. 

Also – you hadn’t expected him to know your name.

“I… yeah, that’s me.” Shaking your head, you smiled. “Jungkook, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I just wanted to say I’m such a big fan of your dancing. It was great to take class with you today.”

Without meaning to, a laugh escaped your lips. Jungkook stared at you, baffled until you quickly waved him off.

“Oh, no – no! Sorry,” you said. “I’m not laughing at you! I’m just laughing at the ridiculousness of you saying you’re a fan of me.”

Some of Jungkook’s wariness disappeared, and a small smile played across his lips.

“Well, I am.” His grin widened. “I used to assist on the convention circuit, too and I remember you being called out all the time. You and Jimin,” he added, glancing across the room.

You looked, too and saw Jimin still packing his things. His back was stiff, pointedly not looking in your direction. Lingering on him a moment, you returned to Jungkook.

“Still,” you said with a laugh. “It’s a bit of a stretch to say we took class together when you’re the teacher’s assistant.”

“True.” Jungkook paused. “Well, next time you’re in LA, let’s fix that. Let me know if you’re ever in town and we can take a class together.”

Despite yourself, your brows raised. It was harmless, but Jungkook was definitely flirting with you. He was attractive, sure and seemed nice, but he lived in LA and you had a boyfriend. You should probably leave before things had the chance to go any further. The last thing you needed was another complication. Adjusting your bag, you gave Jungkook a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said before turning away.

Jungkook chuckled from behind. “Bye, Y/N.”

As you joined Noelle at the door, she stared over your shoulder.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop.

Noelle’s gaze moved to yours in disbelief. “How?” she demanded as you exited class. “How do you have all these men just… tripping over themselves for you?”

Heat rising to your face, you shook your head. “That’s – I,” you sputtered. “You’re being ridiculous!”

“Am I?” Noelle grinned. “First Jimin, now Jungkook… and all this while having a boyfriend.” 

“I… you... Jimin is not tripping over himself for me!”

Both her brows shot way, way up. “Is that the only part of the sentence you took objection to?”

“Shut up,” you groaned and shoved her in the side.

Noelle laughed but nodded. “Alright, fine! I’ll stop. Did Sabrina say she’ll come?”

“She did.”

“Great. I still don’t like her,” Noelle said, pushing open the door. “But I guess you’re right, I have an extra ticket. It’s nice to be nice.”

You laughed, pulling your coat tighter as you walked outside. “You’re a saint.”

While you walked, your phone dinged and pulling this from your pocket, you saw a notification on Instagram. Jeon_Jungkook97 has followed you.

Shaking your head, you returned this to your jacket as you continued. While it was nice of Jungkook to compliment your dancing, his approval didn’t mean as much as certain other peoples had. This realization stuck in your mind, making you wonder about Noelle’s teasing jibe.

She had said Jimin flirted with you, but that wasn’t true – was it? You would have known if Jimin were flirting. It was hard to pick out though, since Jimin was friendly with everyone. That was just who he was; as he’d said earlier, he liked to be liked. A note of uncertainty entered your thoughts though, recalling the ballet class with your chest pressed to his. Shoving this away, you forced yourself to focus on the upcoming weekend.

Halloween was a night for fun, for letting loose and enjoying yourself with your friends. You refused to let the night be spoiled by any lingering feelings – either from you, or towards you.

The next night was perfect Halloween weather.

Chilly, but not cold enough to risk snow falling. There were several Halloweens from childhood you could recall trick-or-treating with a winter coat flung over your costume because the temperature had dropped below freezing.

You, Noelle and Irene showed up to Paulo’s house around 8:00 PM, shivering a little while you stood on his doorstep. Paulo was one of the few freshmen who lived off-campus, having known several upperclassmen before he came to Russet. The brownstone he lived in was cute, with window boxes you imagined hosted flowers in the summer.

Tugging your pink and black minidress down, you adjusted your bow as Paulo opened the door.

Blinking, he took in your costumes. “The Powerpuff girls!” He cheered, raising an arm overhead. “Try not to take down any of the villains upstairs, yeah?”

“No promises,” said Irene, flicking hair over her shoulder.

Entering the house, you heard thumping bass from an apartment upstairs. Paulo lived on the third floor and as you climbed the steps, the music grew louder. It took Paulo two tries to shove open the door – “warped wood,” he explained – but once you were inside, you saw familiar faces.

“The Powerpuff girls!” Jasmine cried, jumping up from the couch. “Finally! Thank god – can you take down Eamon? He came here dressed as a potato, or something.”

“It’s an avocado!” Eamon shouted from the kitchen. He was dressed in a round, green costume with a halo overhead. “I’m ‘holy guacamole’ – get it?” he said, pointing at the halo.

Jasmine stared at him a moment. “That’s terrible. Worse than mine,” she said with a wave down her body. “I’ve been Princess Jasmine for the past five Halloweens. It’s easy to remember and I already have the outfit.”

Laughing, you shrugged off your coat and added this to a pile on the couch. “It’s a classic,” you agreed as you turned.

Noelle had managed to procure at least twenty tickets to the party tonight, so a lot of your freshman Russet class was in attendance. Including Sabrina, who stood in the corner, talking to Louis over cups of red punch. She looked up when you entered, pausing before she gave a small wave. Surprised by the gesture, you did the same.

“No.” Noelle groaned, coming to a stop alongside you. When you looked, you saw she’d already removed her coat. “Tell me Sabrina didn’t come to this party dressed as a ballerina.”

“We did invite her at the last minute,” you laughed. “Hard to find a good Halloween costume in a day.”

“Hey,” Noelle argued. “There’s no we here. You were the one who invited her, and you’ll be the one to accept the consequences should your social experiment fail.”

“Done,” you agreed. “Speaking of social experiments though, I’m ready to get drunk tonight. Where’s the alcohol?”

“Kitchen!” Irene called, brushing past. “Or – that’s where Brian disappeared to when we entered, so I can only assume.”

Telling Noelle you’d be back with drinks, you wound through the room towards where Irene had pointed. The kitchen was tiny, on par with most city apartments. There was only room enough for one or two people, so you were lucky it was deserted when you entered.

Surveying the counter, you found the usual party staples. A bowl of red punch, a bunch of beer and various liquor bottles with chasers. Skipping over the communal punch bowl, you reached for a bottle of diet coke and coconut rum.

“Oh,” a voice said as they entered the kitchen. “Sorry – I didn’t know you were in here.”

Glancing up, you saw Jimin and froze.

He’d dyed his hair black – that was the first thing you noticed. Jimin’s hair was no longer blonde, but completely dark. His outfit confused you at first – a frilly, white blouse with slicked-back hair and dark trousers – until you saw his bright red contacts and the dribble of blood at his mouth.

“A vampire,” you said, finally recovering your voice. Scanning his body, you frowned. “Where are the teeth, though?”

Jimin blinked, his gaze jerking up from your waist.

“Huh?” he said, sounding a bit strangled.

Cheeks heating a little – your dress was pretty short – you repeated yourself. “The teeth,” you said, pointing at your own lips. “Don’t vampires have fangs?”

“Oh, right.” Jimin dug around in his pocket – fuck, were his trousers tight – to produce twin fangs. “I took them off when I got here. They’re really hard to talk in.”

“Go on then, Park,” you said with a grin. “Put them in.”

“One second.” Twisting to face the wall, Jimin popped them in his mouth. Turning around, he bared his teeth. “Sexy?”

With the teeth in though, the word came out more like shex-shie and you burst into laughter. “So sexy,” you agreed, reaching past him for a cup.

Jimin stiffened when your arm brushed his front. Unbidden, you thought about what Noelle had said – Jimin had been flirting with you. Pulling away, you resumed making your drinks and tried not to look in his direction.

Even so, you remained aware of his presence. Jimin inched his way behind you, reaching for the whiskey on the other side. His arm brushed your elbow as he went, right knee nudging yours in an intimate gesture.

Glancing up from the counter, you accidentally caught his gaze. Despite your earlier joking, he did look sexy. Devastatingly so. Even the blood-red contacts weren’t enough to deter the shiver which ran down your spine.

Shaking yourself free from your trance, you grabbed both cups and pulled back. 

“So, what’re you drinking?” you asked. 

You decided it was best to steer the conversation away from how sexy Park Jimin was or was not.

Seemingly oblivious to your inner turmoil, Jimin poured whiskey into his cup. “Whiskey and coke. Can you pass me that bottle?”

“Sure,” you said, leaping at the chance to prevent him from walking past you again. “Here you go.”

Pushing this forward, you watched Jimin pour both drinks all the way to the brim. He paused near the end, staring into the depths before he looked up. He seemed to be warring with something, debating whether or not to speak whatever was on his mind.

“So…” He paused. “Do you know Jungkook, or something?”

You blinked. “Jungkook…?”

“You know, Miss Luna’s assistant. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh! Jungkook. No, I don’t really know him.”

“You were talking to him at the end of class, though?”

Hearing the curiosity in his voice, both your brows raised. “And?”

“And nothing,” Jimin said, sounding uncomfortable. “I just… I didn’t know you knew him, that’s all.”

“I mean, I don’t.” You paused. “But even if I did, what does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.” His cheeks began to redden. “It’s just – ah, never mind. We don’t have that great a history, that’s all. He’s kind of the reason I’m at Russet this year.”

You stared at Jimin a moment. “Wow, what a tragedy,” you said, stifling a laugh. “To have been forced to attend one of the most prestigious dance institutions in the world.”

His upper lip twitched. “It’s not that. I was deciding between attending Russet and accepting a job offer out west. I was asked to join this pop star on tour… anyways, Jungkook’s never liked me much. It’s a long story.” Jimin’s brow furrowed. “My offer was rescinded at the last minute. The artist never said why, but I always got the feeling he had something to do with it.”

You stared at Jimin a moment, unsure how to respond. Jungkook hadn’t seemed like that kind of person, but you supposed you’d only talked to him for a few minutes. If that was true, what happened to Jimin sucked and yet, the next words from your mouth nearly had you face-palming.

“And here I thought I was your biggest rival, Park,” you said.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Are you… jealous, Y/N?”

He sounded almost pleased by the notion, which sent a different kind of shiver down your spine.

“Not at all,” you said quickly, turning back to your drinks.

Jimin made a soft tsk-ing sound, as though he didn’t believe you.

“That sucks,” you continued, determined to change the subject. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah. Maybe it was all for the best, though. Things happen for a reason, right?”

Looking up, you caught Jimin’s stare. He didn’t look immediately away and you got the oddest sensation he meant more than what he said. Hastily, you pushed this feeling aside, clutching your drinks as you entered the main room. Jimin followed close behind, two cups in his hands.

“When did you get here?” you asked. “Been here long?”

Jimin shook his head. “Nah. Hoseok and I got here like, ten minutes ago. He should be around here somewhere, he –”

“Y/N!”

You looked up just in time to see Hoseok, Jimin’s roommate, barreling towards you.

“It’s been so long!” Crushing you to his chest, Hoseok wrapped you in a hug. “Hope Jimin isn’t boring you to death,” he stage-whispered before he pulled away.

“Just for that.” Jimin arched a brow. “Both these drinks are for me.”

“No – wait, wait. I’m sorry!” Hoseok pouted. “Hand over the drink, Park. It’s been the longest fucking week.”

Jimin grinned and relented, handing Hoseok his cup as you laughed. Hoseok was a newer friend, but he was close to Jimin, so he’d gradually bled into your latest gatherings. Despite not being on the ballet track, most of the dancers at Russet knew of him. Hoseok had that way about him.

Glancing down at your outfit, Hoseok held up a finger. “Let me guess – Blossom,” he said, turning to scan the room. “Which means… aha! Irene is Bubbles and Noelle is Buttercup. Makes sense.”

“And you are…” Pausing, you squinted at his outfit. “Someone at the spa?”

“Sure.” Hoseok shrugged. “Honestly, I just wanted to wear a bathrobe.”

Said bathrobe was paired with only boxers, the front of the robe open to display his toned abs. The costume didn’t surprise you, based on past interactions with Hoseok.

Casually, he twirled the robe tie in a circle. “Impressive, no?” Hoseok glanced away. “Whoa, wait – they have beer pong? See you all later!”

Hurrying off, he left you alone with Jimin. Shaking your head, you glanced in his direction and saw Jimin down his whole drink. Arching a brow, you were about to ask why when Irene called your names from across the room.

“Y/N!” She waved her hands. “Jimin! Get over here, you two – we need more for flip cup!”

You found yourself pulled in this direction despite your insistence you didn’t do well under pressure. Jimin ended up at the other end of the table and you lost sight of him when you started to play, paired with Jasmine for a partner.

By the end of the first round, you discovered you weren’t as horrible a player as you’d imagined. Then someone suggested mixed drinks for the second round, and things became fuzzier. There were more people present than just current students of Russet. One of Paulo’s roommates knew Seokjin, so you saw him in the room, along with Sana.

You chatted with both over the course of the evening, in addition to a guy who’d recently debuted on Broadway, Kim Taehyung. Apparently, there was already buzz around him for a Tony. Taehyung was nice, but it was sometime during this conversation you realized how tipsy you were. Apparently, not drinking for several months and then going ham made for very low tolerance.

Collapsing onto the couch, you joined Irene and Brian’s conversation. In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Noelle – a terrible flip cup player, she’d roped Hoseok into giving her private lessons, but these seemed to be going terribly. Or perhaps very well, given how much the two of them were laughing.

You completely forgot about Jimin until you spotted him across the room talking to Sabrina. Seeing them together, you straightened. Both seemed fairly comfortable, which struck you as odd. Since that morning in Jimin’s dorm, you hadn’t really seen them hang out together.

Despite this, Jimin was laughing at something Sabrina had said. Tearing your gaze away, you forced yourself to focus on the conversation at hand. It didn’t matter who Jimin spoke to, or even who he decided to go home with tonight. He was your dance partner and friend, nothing more and besides – you had a boyfriend.

Blinking, you reached into your clutch and pulled out your phone. To your disappointment, you’d gotten no texts from Finn since this morning. You assumed he was still at his party but didn’t know for sure. Shooting him a text, hey, you waited for a response and when you got none, returned your phone to your purse.

Across the room, you heard Noelle yell your name. “Y/N!” She cupped her mouth with both hands. “We need another person for flip cup!”

Laughing, you pushed yourself from the couch and were immediately roped into your fourth game of the night. The night blurred again after that, turning into a pleasant hum of conversation and booze. At some point, Ubers were called to bring you to the club. As you rushed downstairs, you realized you forgot your coat as soon as you stepped outside.

Shivering violently, you rubbed your arms and cursed yourself for poor foresight.

“Y/N?” Jimin came to a stop alongside you. “Hey, where’s your coat?”

“Inside,” you said through chattering teeth. “I-it’s fine, though. I’m fine!”

Jimin gave you a look. “Where’s Paulo?” he said, glancing around. “I’ll grab him, we can get your coat before we go –”

“The Uber’s already here, though,” you argued, grabbing his sleeve to drag him towards the curb. “I’ll be fine from here to the club!”

Jimin sighed but gave in, following when you rushed to the grey SUV. Irene had claimed the front seat, so you and Jimin pulled open the middle door – Noelle and Hoseok were crowding behind you, so you and Jimin ended up together in the backseat.

Collapsed in a heap, you giggled as Jimin tried to squish himself in a corner. “Sorry,” he said, trying – and failing – to keep his knees separate.

“Jimin.” You snorted. “Are we going to go through this again? Your hands have been in way more inappropriate places than that this semester.”

Jimin’s lips parted, shocked, but you were already hoisting yourself over the middle seat. Draping your arms next to Noelle, you begged her to play your favorite song on the radio. Had you been more sober, you might’ve recognized your position to be precarious – perched on the edge of your seat, your ass hovered inches away from Jimin’s face.

Plopping back down, you glanced sideways at Jimin and found him frozen. Suddenly, you realized the visual he’d had.

“Um, so what happened to the teeth?” you blurted, determined to change the subject.

Jimin blinked and managed to meet your gaze. “Casualty of flip cup,” he said. “One of them fell out during the game and I couldn’t find where it rolled.”

“Well, that’s okay. You can just be one of those vampires who blend in with normal humans. You know, the kind whose fangs only come out when they want to bite someone.”

“That’s true.” Jimin arched a brow. “Lucky for you, I’m not hungry.”

“Lucky for me? Lucky for you,” you retorted. “My blood is about half alcohol right now. If you drank my blood, you’d be a very silly vampire.”

The idea of a silly vampire made you laugh – even more so when you pictured said vampire as Jimin. He seemed much too coherent for your liking right now.

“A silly vampire, huh?” Jimin looked on, amused. “Damn, Y/N – when was the last time you went out? Your tolerance is shit.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I haven’t drunk much this semester. Too much dance, too little time. I think the last time I went out was –”

“We’re here!” squealed Noelle, throwing open the door.

A blast of cold air hit you and you shivered, wishing you’d worn your coat. Jimin’s gaze remained steady on yours.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said lowly. “I can give you, uh…”

“Your shirt?” you said dryly, lifting a brow as you brushed past. “Then you’d be shirtless, Park. Let’s think this through.”

Jimin chuckled before he followed suit, although you cursed as soon as you left the car. He was correct. It was freezing, even with your alcohol-induced blanket.

“Come on!” you yelped, following Noelle towards the entrance.

Bypassing the line, Noelle walked straight towards the bouncer and showed him her phone. He nodded and waved her past, counting your friend group who followed. Not everyone from Paulo’s place had gone to the club, but enough for you to make quite the entrance.

“Y/N!” Noelle doubled back to link arms with you. “Come on – this way! That guy’s going to show us to our table.”

“Table?” you asked her, wide-eyed.

Tables in a club on Halloween night were ridiculously expensive, but it seemed Noelle had downplayed her brother’s connections. Your group was led right to the front of the upper balcony, getting a coveted spot overlooking the dance floor below.

This was undeniably the coolest club you’d been in. Not that you’d been in many, mind you, but this one had to take the cake. A half-circle of tables took up the top floor, with twin staircases descending to the main room below. Most of the lower floor was for dancing, although you saw additional tables pushed to the sides. Fluorescent bars and dance platforms were dotted throughout and above all was the DJ booth, blasting the latest songs.

“Whoa,” you breathed.

Noelle grinned, squeezing your arm to pull you into the booth. As soon as you settled in, Jasmine leapt up and clapped her hands.

“I want to be in one of those!” she said, pointing to a glowing cage at the center of the dance floor.

“Oo, me too!” Irene leapt up to join her.

“Me, three!” said Paulo, clambering out of the booth.

“Awesome.” Irene beamed and glanced your way. “What about you, Y/N? You in?”

The idea was tempting for a moment, but then Finn flashed through your mind. You highly doubted he’d be on board with you gyrating for a room full of strangers without him. Somewhat dejectedly, you plopped back on the bench.

“That’s okay,” you sighed. “I think I’m going to stay here for a while. I’ll join you later!”

Irene frowned but nodded, following the rest when they left for the stairs. About half the group went, clearing out the table while you stared at the dance floor.

Jimin slid into the bench alongside you. “You don’t want to dance?”

Startled, you glanced in his direction. While you watched, Jimin began to undo his cuffs, casually rolling the sleeves of his shirt. His hair, which had been slicked back at the start of the night, was starting to fall. Several dark strands hung over his forehead, although this only seemed to make the look more appealing.

“No,” you said, crossing your legs. “I just… don’t really feel like it.”

“Is this the whole hating clubs thing again?”

“Kind of.” You laughed. “I don’t know. Club dancing isn’t like normal dancing, you know?”

“It is when you’re at the club with all dancers,” Jimin pointed out, nodding towards the floor.

Following his gaze, you saw Jasmine dancing full-out in a lit-up cage. She wasn’t so much gyrating as she was creating choreography on the fly. The mere mortals around her looked on in awe. Fighting a smile, you returned to Jimin.

“Okay, that does look like fun,” you admitted. “The last time I was at a club was with Finn.”

Jimin blinked. “Sorry – what?”

“In the cab,” you said, leaning closer in order to be heard. “You asked me when I last went out. It was that night… um, the night you came and picked me up.”

Jimin stared at you a moment, as though contemplating something important. Abruptly, he stood and held out a hand. You blinked at this like he’d offered a football.

“What are you doing?” you said, glancing up.

“Taking you down to the dance floor.” Jimin retracted said hand. “Come on, Y/N! You don’t have to give out dry lap dances, or whatever.”

“Hey!” In disbelief, your mouth fell open. “You said you’d forget all about that!”

His smile turned impish. “Seriously, we can just do the sprinkler, or something. It’ll be fun!”

“The sprinkler?” Starting to laugh, you stood. “Was that really the first move you thought of?”

“Nah. My go-to move is the criss-cross, but I figured this was more your speed.”

Snorting, you shoved him in the arm before following Jimin to the dance floor. It didn’t take you long to spot your other friends, clustered near the front and around the DJ booth.

“Y/N!” Noelle cheered, breaking off from the pack. “You made it!”

She nearly spilled her drink while she danced, catching herself just in time as she spun around. You grinned, entering the circle with Jimin by your side. He did, in fact, pull out the criss-cross – Hoseok joined in and soon, there was a Fortnite dance battle between them. You truly haven’t lived until you’ve seen a TikTok dance-off between two semi-professional dancers.

This ended with both declaring mutual defeat, and Hoseok disappearing to buy the next round. Noelle shimmied her way over to Jasmine, accepting the hand given to stand on the platform.

You laughed at their ridiculous dance moves, choosing instead to stay on the ground. The crowd around you had thinned since you’d joined. Eamon disappeared a few minutes later, saying something about needing a drink upstairs. Before long, Irene had joined Jasmine and Noelle on the platform, leaving you alone with Jimin on the floor.

Under other circumstances, you might have felt uncomfortable, but Jimin was so good at putting you at ease. Determined to keep you in the present, he came up with more and more complicated dance moves which had you snorting with laughter.

On a particularly flamboyant spin, Jimin accidentally smacked the drink from someone’s grasp. Blue vodka splattered everywhere, drenching its owner – a burly man in leather who snarled in frustration.

Looking up, he met your gaze and his eyes narrowed.

“Shit. Run!” you blurted out.

Grabbing Jimin by the arm, you dragged him into the crowd.

“No, wait – let me apologize!” Jimin tried to twist around. “I can pay for his drink! I can –”

Once there was suitable distance between you and the guy, you came to a stop. Laughing so hard you nearly fell over, you turned sideways to face him.

Bodies pressed against you from every side but rather than feel claustrophobic, all you could think about was Jimin before you. His hair had become thoroughly mussed during the night and you fought the sudden desire to smooth it down.

Although your breath came hard, the club around you seemed to slow. The music somehow had narrowed to pinpricks, a heady thump of bass while everything dulled.

What you should’ve done was taken a step back – but you didn’t.

Instead, your gaze drifted across his face. Jimin stared back, something intense to his gaze you couldn’t quite name. Breath caught in your throat, his eyes dropped to your lips.

Before you could react, someone bumped into you from behind, sending you careening forward. Jimin caught you easily, one arm around your waist and your chest pressed to his. You could feel every hard line of his body, his thigh wedged between your legs while you grasped at his arms. Heart thudding traitorously against your ribcage, you tried to ignore the emotions which followed.

It was impossible. 

The song playing was slower, sexier than the one which had inspired the dance-off. Without meaning to, your weight subtly shifted. This caused your hips to move against his as Jimin quietly sucked in a breath. The effect this had on him was instantaneous. His grip on you tightened, gaze heady with desire and something more. Before you could second-guess what you were doing, you moved your hips again – this time, on purpose.

Jimin’s eyes darkened. Without looking away, his grip on you tightened as he slowly dragged you up his thigh. Suddenly breathless, your hands gripped him tighter while your eyes fluttered shut. The heat of his body on yours, the faint smell of cologne and sweat, the tension in his limbs and the knowledge of what he could do to you – it all left your head spinning.

“Y/N,” Jimin murmured, low in your ear.

You weren’t used to him saying your name like that.

You were used to him saying your name in every other way, but not that. Sharp with dancer’s critique, brusque with instruction, light with teasing – but not like something heavy was lodged in his throat. Maybe his heart.

Panicked, your eyes flew open.

What were you doing? This wasn’t some random stranger and this sure as hell wasn’t your boyfriend. This was Jimin. Stumbling backwards, you broke from his hold. Jimin seemed equally stunned, staring at you on the dance floor.

“I have to go,” you blurted and whirled around.

Shoving into the crowd, you heard Jimin emit a soft groan. Despite this, he didn’t immediately pursue, for which you were grateful. Stumbling through strangers, strobe lights flashed brightly overhead. You squeezed between someone dressed as a go-go and another person dressed as a werewolf. Skidding to a stop on the edge of the floor, you scanned the room and saw no one from Russet.

When you glanced over your shoulder, you saw Jimin now followed. Panicking again, you began to move. Beside one of the bars, you spotted a hallway labeled restrooms. Heading in this direction, you quickly disappeared inside the door marked women.

Once inside, you locked yourself in a stall, lowered the lid and sat down. Head in hands, you slowly exhaled. You were a coward; that much was clear. Jimin was probably out there looking for you right now, but you’d rather hide in a bathroom than face him.

The fluorescent lighting overhead was too bright – it made you feel overexposed. After a long moment, you fished around in your purse and pulled out your phone. Flipping to your thread with Finn, you saw he’d sent no response since your text. Complete and utter silence.

Heart cracking a little, you slid this in your bag and stared at the door. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. When you imagined you and Finn at college, you’d always pictured you together, attending the same parties and sharing the same adventures. Tonight though, had proven to be anything but that. Finn hadn’t once glanced at his phone judging by the unread mark next to your text.

Dimly, you wondered why you weren’t more upset about this. It should bother you that Finn hadn’t called or even texted throughout the day. Sure, he was out with friends, but so were you and you’d reached out – as soon as you thought this, your heart sank.

You weren’t sure you could call Jimin a friend after what had just happened.

Sure, you’d only danced, and it had only been for a second but still, guilt bloomed behind your ribcage. The idea of Finn doing the same thing with anyone else made your heart twist. You wouldn’t feel that way if what you’d done wasn’t wrong.

Groaning out loud, you lowered your head to your hands. After several minutes, you felt calm enough to stand and pretend-flush the toilet. As you exited the stall, you walked to the sink and began washing your hands. Staring at yourself in the mirror, a million things ran through your mind.

Clearly, the situation with Jimin was worse than you’d thought. The spark you’d felt kept returning, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Maybe the only solution was to find a new partner. The very idea made your heart sink, but you couldn’t deny things had gotten out of hand.

Before you could seriously consider the option, the door to the bathroom flung open and banged against the wall. Sabrina stormed in, wiping both eyes with the heel of her hand. You froze, staring at her in the mirror but she didn’t seem to notice your presence.

When she finally lowered her hands and took a deep breath, she saw you and froze.

For a moment, you both only stared at each other and then – you coughed. Awkwardly, you began to dry your hands.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tentative.

Sabrina stiffened. “I’m fine,” she muttered, walking to the sink.

You watched her wash her hands, struggling and failing to control her expression. Sabrina’s hair was a mess and you stared, wondering where she’d been. You hadn’t seen her since you’d entered the club, but had assumed she’d stayed on the second floor.

“Are you sure?” you pressed, remembering your night at the other club. “You know, you can –”

“Will you… just stop.” Sabrina closed her eyes. “Will you … stop pretending like we’re friends, or something?”

Struck with disbelief, you could only stare. “I… are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” You shook your head. “Just wow.”

Her lips tightened and finally, she whirled around. “What?” Sabrina demanded. “What is it?”

The look in her eyes was familiar. Her frustrated, angry look was mirrored in your expression, but you found you didn’t care. Sabrina was clearly going through something, but her rudeness to you was the final straw. Tired from Finn, Jimin and the constant pressure you were both under, something about Sabrina’s words made you break.

“Why are you always such a… such a bitch,” you blurted, hurling the word like a knife. “What did I ever do to you? Why do you always act like you hate me so much?”

Sabrina’s upper lip curled. “Why do you always think this is about you, Y/N? Maybe I just wanted one second of peace and instead, here you are. Like always.”

“Here I am, in the public restroom of a club we’re all at?”

“No. Here you are in my life,” she snapped, pushing herself from the sink. “People won’t talk to me? It’s because you’ve run your mouth about things you think I’ve done. I’m falling in the class ranks? It’s because you’re after my spot. Jimin doesn’t want to be my partner? It’s because of his feelings for you. I’m sick of turning around and always seeing you there!”

“Okay, but none of those things – I, Jimin doesn’t have feelings for me,” you sputtered.

Sabrina gave you a look. “Oh, please, Y/N.” Her laughter was harsh. “Why else would he turn me down?”

“Um, maybe because he’s a decent human being? Unlike yourself.”

“Great, yeah.” Sabrina glared. “Make me the bad guy again.”

“I’m not the one doing that,” you huffed. “You are. You want to blame me because no one wants to be your friend? Maybe try reaching out first. Maybe don’t talk shit about people behind their backs. And I’m improving because I’m taking extra lessons. No thanks to you, of course.”

“Don’t try and make me feel bad because I didn’t have time to give you lessons.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to explain why I’m improving and you’re not.”

Sabrina bristled. “Are you saying I don’t work hard, too?”

“No.” Mirthless, you laughed. “I know you work hard – maybe even as hard as I do. But you know what the big difference is between you and me?” you said, drawing yourself to your full height.

Sabrina’s eyes glimmered while she stared you down. Still, she retained her aloofness when she said, “What? What’s the big secret?”

“You think everyone’s out to get you,” you said, stepping closer. “You think not asking for help makes you stronger, but it’s the exact opposite. At least I’ve improved since the start of the year. What have you done?”

Not waiting for an answer, you pushed past Sabrina and walked out the door.

Shoving it wide, you entered the hallway. Dance music flooded your senses and you winced, remembering where you were and what you’d been doing. Luckily, Jimin was nowhere in sight. He must not have seen where you’d disappeared to.

Shoulders slumping, you pulled out your phone and dialed a number. Walking to the front, you concentrated on breathing while you waited for them to pick up. Coming to a stop beside coat check, you didn’t leave the club – a lesson you’d learned the hard way.

Noelle answered on the third ring. “Babe?” she yelled, barely audible over the din. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

“Are you…” Closing your eyes, you paused. “Can we leave?”

Noelle paused, then muffled her phone with one hand. “Irene!” you heard her yell. “You good to get a ride home for these people? Okay, cool. Bye!” Her phone became un-muffled. “Where are you, babe?”

After explaining your location, you hung up and hugged yourself with both arms. Noelle burst into view a few moments later, scanning the crowd like a mom on a mission. When she saw you, she rushed over – and you promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, no!” Pulling you into a hug, Noelle began to rub your back. “No, no, babe! Don’t cry! What’s going on? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

Hearing Jimin’s words said by Noelle only made you cry harder. Wisely sensing this to be a problem not easily solved, Noelle continued rubbing your back while walking towards the exit.

The two of you went outside and, as luck would have it, saw a group of people arriving at the club. Noelle snagged their taxi, helping you in the backseat and giving the driver your address. As you settled against her, your head on her shoulder, Noelle kept rubbing your arm and waited for the tears to stop.

You weren’t really sure why you were crying.

Of course, Sabrina was terrible, as was the situation with Jimin, but it was more than that. Dancing with Jimin hadn’t caused problems in your relationship with Finn. There had been problems in your relationship Finn and so, feelings had crept in which led you to dance with Jimin.

More than that though, you couldn’t help but notice Noelle had come to your aid much faster than Finn ever had. Even Jimin had dropped everything when you asked, and he was someone you’d once called your enemy. Noelle had been having fun, but she’d cut her night short because you were upset. This knowledge crushed you and for the very first time, you realized your relationship with Finn might be unfixable.

Curled up on the backseat, you let yourself cry a bit more. You could be calm and rational in the morning, you decided but for now, you just felt defeated.

When you finally climbed into bed at your dorm at night, you looked at your phone and saw Finn still hadn’t texted.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[angelic-blxssom]

can you please write either headcanons or an imagine where connor's s/o tells him that she never got to go to prom because the guy who asked her changed his mind and wanted to ask another girl and she's still pretty (and weirdly) upset about it so he throws her a prom in their living room and he asks her to be his prom date in a super cute way? (this actually happened to me in high school and the guy who asked me to be his date got turned down by the other girl he wanted to ask so at least there was a little justice lmao!)

I hope you’re still not dreading over that dude- ty for the request!! Sorry for the wait

The Home Prom

warning: mentions of heartbreak, that’s it

High school wasn’t the greatest experience, love wise for someone like me. In my senior year, the school had the prom. Usually it was for juniors and seniors but this one was only for the seniors. I was excited! I mean, it was prom. Every girl is excited for prom or was excited. Luckily, I got asked very quickly since it was announced.

He was a friend of mine from middle school, we got along decently but never did I expect him to ask me to a prom. The feeling of happiness didn’t last long as you soon got note of him getting another date. The man had the audacity to text you, breaking the prom date off because he found another girl.

Normally, I wouldn’t get annoyed or even angry at this type of stuff but GOD, he broke it off only a few days before prom.

Anyways, years had passed and I still thought of that night every now and then, obsessing over what he had said and how he just ditched me like that.

It was Saturday evening and I was pulling some case files together at the police department. I picked up a stack, straightening it before standing up and starting to walk away. Right behind me stood the android RK800. I flinched in surprise and laughed for a second.

“wow, you scared me Connor!” I breathed out after the short laugh. Connor’s eyebrows furrowed, noticing a difference in my blood pressure and heart rate, though I couldn’t tell.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” He asked, peering into my face. My eyes widened in surprise before shaking my head, not wanting to share how I had felt right now.

I gently pushed Connor away before continuing on but of course, my boyfriend had to step in again, “I am sensing that something is abnormal and wrong,”

I sighed heavily, placing the stack of papers against the nearest desk to me.

“I don't know, I keep obsessing over the prom I never had in school. That’s it, no need to worry dear,” I gave a weak smile to him before leaning in to kiss his cheek gently and leaving the room. Connor stood behind and watched me leave with a frown.

--

It seemed Connor had gone home as he was no longer there when I finished filing. I checked the time before heading outside to my car, preparing to head home after a long day of work. 

When I arrived home, I noticed the living room light was on. Connor’s car was also parked so I just left it to Connor coming here instead of his little loft. Getting out of my car and unlocking the door, I opened it to see Connor standing there with a big smile. He had a popper in his hand before pulling it, confetti spraying on me.

I stood there, shocked at what I was seeing. Behind him, the room was decked out in balloons and other decorations. 

“How- How did you even do this?” I mumbled out, still paralyzed in movement from Connor.

He shrugged and poked at me with a joke, “Fairy dust,” I finally came back to my sense and giggled at the joke. I watched as Connor grabbed a piece of the confetti and holding it out.

“I have no corsage for your wrist so here's a piece of confetti. Now, may I do the honors of asking you to this prom?” Connor spoke confidently, clearly he had done his research within the hour or so I was at work filing.

I giggled and curtsied to him tauntingly, “Of course, sir!” I took hold of the confetti and placed it on the back of my hand with a small smile. Connor grasped my wrists gently, pulling me in the house and towards the middle of the living room.

He pulled me in, wrapping his hands around my waist as I directed mine to the blades of his shoulders. We swayed in this position, listening to the music for what felt like hours before he finally leaned in towards my lips.

I did the same, capturing the lightly colored lips into a passionate, loving kiss.

“I love you, Connor,”

[softtransbf]

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

For the ask meme: Sarah x Jareth (I almost wrote that as David Bowie), 14, 22, and 29!

I am RIGHT NOW watching Labyrinth with my partners, EXCELLENT timing!  Cut for length.

14) When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Jareth has never been “sick” a day in his immortal life.  He’s been stabbed, poisoned, cursed, and hungover, but even the weakest goblin is rarely “sick” and Jareth hasn’t spend enough time around mortals to have a good grasp of the fact that nonfatal illnesses even exist.    

Point is, there’s an intermediary period between Sarah pointedly ignoring every owl in sight, no matter the coloring, and Sarah becoming the Goblin Queen where she forces him to visit the mortal world more than he has in living memory, including his.  (Jareth has a vague sense that he might have been here more often once--perhaps when he was young, before he was King--but he’s been King so long, and the Labyrinth has a chain-tight grip on its own.)  Toby is entranced, and also terrified--he doesn’t buy Jareth’s glamour for a second.  Sarah spends half her life running interference on Jareth’s behavior, and the other half doing a double major in political sciences and folklore.  Which she decided to get before she agreed to start talking to Jareth again, thank you, kindly fuck off.

Point is, eventually even Sarah’s suspiciously excellent immune system clocks out for the day, and she wakes up with a splitting headache, a wet and congested cough, and a sense that her skin is being abraded by even her softest sheets.  She’s not sick-sick, it’s just a nasty head cold with a fever, but she calls out of class and flops down on the couch and mumbles non-answers to the goblin who lives in the top of her closet when it scuttles out to see why she���s still home.

She doesn’t even realize Jareth is there until she feels a shadow fall over her and cracks an eye to peer up at him blearily.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks in his most forbidding Goblin King voice, and she groans and pulls her blanket over her head.

“Go away, Jareth, I’m tired.”

“I will not,” he says automatically as he jerks the blanket down to her shoulder, and then he’s crouching down in front of her, mismatched eyes dangerous and inhumanly bright in the yellow light of her little dorm apartment.  “Who did this to you, Sarah?  I will not leave without an answer.”

“No one,” she says, squinting up at him.  “It’s just a cold.”

“’Cold’,” he repeats, in the same skeptical way that he said ‘phone’ when she complained about his unannounced visits.  “I am not aware of that particular toxin.”

“I’m just sick, it’s not like I’ve been poisoned.”

“An illness?”  He pauses, pulls a glove off one hand and reaches out to touch her cheek experimentally.  His fingers are always cold compared to hers, and she shivers hard when he touches her skin, but he doesn’t flinch.  There’s something odd on his face, a locked-up hardness, and he says, “What is it?”

“A cold,” Sarah says again, pulling her blankets back up to her chin and shutting her eyes.  “I’m just going to feel like garbage for a few days.  Probably less if you let me sleep.  Come back and bother me on Saturday.”

He doesn’t leave.  Whatever, Sarah decides--that’s his problem.  She’s tired and feverish and annoyed and she’s going to sleep whether Jareth likes it or not.  She thinks he’s talking to someone--probably that snitch in the closet--about something--sounded vaguely like library and cold--but that’s Not Her Concern.  Sarah is done here.  She feels the end of the couch sink down by her feet just before she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, the Goblin King is still there, reading a book filched from one of her shelves, pen tapping idly against his lips--he’s marking up the fairy tales again, god, she hates his guts sometimes--and there’s a series of tidy piles on the rickety coffee table.  It looks like someone robbed a pharmacy and cleaned out their Cough And Cold aisle, and then sorted their booty by color, which suggests probably goblins just smart enough to recognize a word their king showed them, but not smart enough to read the labels.

Sarah smiles a little and grabs some cough drops from the top of the red pile, and condescends to drape her legs over Jareth’s lap before she goes back to sleep.

22) Where does their first kiss happen?

Sarah has a much harder time in college than she expected.  Not with being away from home, although she does miss Toby something awful and spends every second of her breaks with him.  No, the problem is that she has to share a room.  All the way through freshman year, she has a roommate, and--

And the roommate is fine, she’s a perfectly inoffensive girl from Chicago who keeps her things on her own side of the shoebox room they share and doesn’t bring anyone back to the room and never makes noise late at night, but Sarah hates it.  She can’t quite put her finger on why--is a little afraid of what she might say if pressed, if she’s honest.  She has these half-finished thoughts that involve words like territory and invader and mine.  Sarah has worked very hard not to be a selfish teenager or, possibly worse, the kind of girl who sometimes talks to a Goblin King and wonders privately if his final offer was serious.

Sarah has no plans to be the Goblin Queen, is the point, no matter what Hoggle mutters under his breath when she admits, the summer after her first year of college, that she’s talking to Jareth again.  (He just--he can come see her, there, and he can look like a person, and none of her other friends can, and people are weirdly nervous of Sarah, these days, and she was lonely, okay, so she let an owl into her room while her roommate was gone, and let them who never made a bad choice in college throw the first stone.)  And that means getting over herself and never voicing any of the thoughts that creep into her head about how her roommate, who has every right to sleep here, deserves to be thrown in an oubliette for disturbing Sarah’s peace.

Sarah is better than that, these days.

The only person who isn’t fooled is, of course, Jareth, who is very perceptive and also very persistently determined to visit regularly.  He smothers smirks when he sees Sarah force herself to be kind, and once offers, sweet as arsenic, to take Sarah’s roommate off her hands if you just say the right words, precious.  Sarah glares at him and pointedly turns her back, and he laughs as he leaves.  But he never does anything to her roommate, and Sarah doesn’t think about how Jareth never actually does anything to her space or anything in it, and doesn’t think about the rules that fairy tales handed down for millennia about places that fall under the power of a creature not to be toyed with.

She’s signed up to room with the same girl for sophomore year, because she doesn’t have a reason to claim a single and seniors always snap up the free ones.  But she shows up to get her key, and the registrar frowns and clicks a few things and then shrugs and hands Sarah a key.  He gives Sarah directions to one of the buildings up-campus, and Sarah goes, not particularly suspicious--she’s never been to the up-campus buildings, because people are nervous around Sarah and, while she’s manages to make a friend or two, no one really invites her back to their room.  Into their space.

Sarah opens her door and stands there, staring, mildly shocked.

Apparently, she is now the proud resident of a senior-only dorm room, one of the very tiny apartments that are supposed to house two people, with a kitchenette and a couch and everything.  There’s no one else’s name on the other door.  Sarah is late moving in, but there’s no sign of anyone here, except--

The Goblin King is sitting at the desk in the bedroom that gets the most sunlight, feet kicked lazily up on the wooden top and playing a pair of crystals between his fingers, and he smirks at her.

“I know, I know,” he drawls, vanishing the crystals with a twist of his fingers.  “I have no power over you.  But the school’s quartermaster--”

“Registrar,” Sarah corrects automatically.  He makes a dismissive gesture.  “Did you--do this?”

“Of course,” Jareth says.  “This...situation is apparently the height of luxury at this institution.  You did so despise that fluttering creature--”

“Molly was perfectly nice--”

“--and I see no reason for you to endure her for another year.”

Sarah--should really say that he’s an interfering, high-handed bastard who pretends that he has the divine right to arrange her life to his liking, and keeps rules-lawyering his way around her totally legitimate freedom from his interference.

Sarah really doesn’t want to share a room again.

“What do you want in return?”  She doesn’t even pretend that she’s not suspicious, and he puts on an offended face, bringing his feet down and pressing his lips together.

“It is a gift, Sarah.”

...oh.  Sarah blinks for a moment.  He sounds--geniunely annoyed.  Gifts are, in her knowledge of the Underground and the fae alike, serious business.

She acts without thinking, takes a step forward and tucks her hair behind her ear, and kisses the high point of his cheekbone above his frown.  When she pulls back, she sees a moment of transparent, raw shock before he orders his face into a self-satisfied and haughty raised eyebrow.

“Don’t say anything,” Sarah tells him, feeling her cheeks burn.  “If you can keep your mouth shut, this might resemble a nice moment.”

“If I had known that I could claim debts in kisses--”

“You can’t!” Sarah interrupts loudly.  “Don’t get any ideas!  Now get out and let me unpack!”

29) Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Jareth is already thoroughly decided that Sarah is eventually going to agree to be his queen, one way or another, by the time she finally sighs and opens her window and tells the owl that if he’s very very good, and doesn’t talk to Toby, and looks like a regular person, she will speak to him just to get him to stop lurking.  He breaks all of those rules very quickly, of course, but she doesn’t kick him out--instead, she yells at him, and he puts on his coldest and haughtiest voice as he snaps back at her, and it’s fun.  Jareth never could turn down a challenge, and it’s been a long time since he faced a challenge he might lose, and just like the first time, it makes him ruthlessly determined to win.

It’s not news to him, therefore, that he loves her.

She manages to lie, obfuscate, and generally bullshit her way around admitting what she does at school for nearly three years.  But she starts writing her thesis and slips up, and Jareth is stretched on her bed in the apartment he arranged for her like he lives there when he idly picks up a piece of paper and skims her proposal and she sees his eyebrow rise slowly before he holds it up at her.

“What’s this, precious?”

“Homework,” she says flatly.

“‘Thesis Proposal,’” he reads aloud, drawling.  “‘Sarah Williams.  Proposed title: I’d’ve Et Thy Heart of Flesh: Fairy Tales as a Portrait of Royalty Through History.  Majors: Folklore and...’”  His mocking drawl pauses, and he can’t quite hide his transparent delight as he finishes the sentence.  “‘...and Political Science.’”  

When he looks up from the page, she has a stubborn set to her mouth and a bright spark in her eyes, almost angry.  “It’s not about you, you arrogant prick, I picked my majors years ago.  Give me that, I need the notes.”

“And what do fairy tales say about royalty, dearest?”

“That they’re prideful jerks who steal kids for armies and play favorites--the paper, Jareth.”

“And what do you plan to do with your degree in politics?”

“Regicide,” Sarah snaps, and jumps out of her chair to snatch the paper out of his fingers.  He lets her, and smiles at the way she blushes stark red across her cheekbones and down her throat, and wonders whether she would like the emerald ring he’s kept in his private chambers for the past three years.

Mortals have been doing diamonds, for betrothals, but he thinks green suits her better.

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything is now ruined.

Chapter 22: Then It Ended

As soon as we came, Annabeth ang Grover tackled me. We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke, so of course everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest. According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls— Percy told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched him and told him to shut up. Percy being the son of Poseidon, he didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make his shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

As I was still unclaimed, Hermes cabin had made me one. (Just... IDK go crazy with your shroud IG) It was fun to burn. As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, Percy and I was surrounded by my Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past." The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks told me they'd never forgive us for disgracing their dad. That was okay with me. Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brats didn't get themselves killed and now they'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday...." Going back to the cabin I finally had time to talk to Luke. Who just expressed his relief of me being fine, and how he was scared when Annabeth told everyone about me. No wonder everyone was so shocked seeing me come back with Percy. On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors. As Annabeth, Percy and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human. "I'm off," he said. "I just came to say ... well, you know." I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I'd only known Grover a year, yet he was my oldest friend. Annabeth and I gave him a hug. She told him to keep his fake feet on. I asked him where he was going to search first. "Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan ..." "We understand," Annabeth said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?" "Yeah." "And you remembered your reed pipes?" "Jeez, Annabeth," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat." But he didn't really sound annoyed. He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway. "Well," he said, "wish me luck." He gave Annabeth and I another hug. He clapped Percy on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes. Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington (who, by the way, was a son of Athena) crossing the Delaware. "Hey, Grover," Percy called. He turned at the edge of the woods. "Wherever you're going—I hope they make good enchiladas." Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him. "We'll see him again," Annabeth said. July passed. I spent my daysplanning out strategies with Luke for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares's hands. I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava. From time to time, Percy and I would walk past the Big House, he'd glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle.

I tried to convince him that its prophecy had come to completion. "You shall go west, and face the god who has turned." "Been there, done that—even though the traitor god had turned out to be Ares rather than Hades." "You shall find what was stolen, and see it safe returned." "Check. One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades." "You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend." Percy recited. "Ares had pretended to be our friend, then betrayed us. That must be what the Oracle meant.... Or maybe Nereid?"

"And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end." He sighed. "I had failed to save my mom and lost you..."

"So why are you still uneasy?" The last night of the summer session came all too quickly. The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads. Percy and I got our own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer. The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"This is so beautiful..." I smiled to Percy. "The choice was unanimous," Luke announced. "This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!" The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. Even Ares's cabin felt obliged to stand. Athena's cabin steered Annabeth to the front so she could share in the applause. I'm not sure I'd ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I'd finally found a family, people who cared about me and thought I'd done something right. And in the morning, most of them would be leaving for the year. * * * The next morning, Luke called me. He gave me a paper, telling me to fill it out, and asked me to meet him as soon as I could. I knew Dionysus must've filled it out, because he stubbornly insisted on getting my name wrong: Dear (WRONG NAME) , If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today. If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers. All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit. Have a nice day! Mr. D (Dionysus) Camp Director, Olympian Council #12 That's another thing about ADHD. Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face. Summer was over, and I still don't know what to do. I had no where to go to. The only option I had was Percy's or maybe Hades was not joking about inviting me back to the Underworld. Sighing I decided to just meet Luke before filling it for second opinions. The campgrounds were mostly deserted, shimmering in the August heat. All the campers were in their cabins packing up, or running around with brooms and mops, getting ready for final inspection. Argus was helping some of the Aphrodite kids haul their Gucci suitcases and makeup kits over the hill, where the camp's shuttle bus would be waiting to take them to the airport. I was walking around looking for Luke. I jumped when I felt someone tap me from behind. I instinctively unsheathed my knife and turned only to see Luke with his hands raised.

"Whoa! Calm down just me." He laughed.

"Kinda weird seeing someone laugh at a knife pointed at them." I smirked sheathing my knife.

"I only laugh since its you." He smiled and ruffled my hair. "Are you done with everything?"

"Not really. I don't know whether to leave or not yet. That's why I came. Help me?" I asked him.

He turned to me and to the forest. "How about you hear me out about something... important and private... then decide?" He gestured towards the forest.

"Not planning on killing me are you?" I squinted at him.

He gasped. "Not you. Never. I would never hurt you."

I let him lead me to a shrouded area of the forest.

"How serious is this thing that you can't let anyone see? I am blindly trusting you here Luke." I laughed nervously. But when he didn't reply I felt something was off. "Luke, okay this isn't cool. How deep into the forest do we have to go?"

"Y/N remember when you said... You want to be the person I trust...? How you promised to help me?"

"Luke?" He took my hand and pulled me sharply. I winced at how hard he pulled me. "That hurts! Let me go!"

He snapped back and let go of my wrist. "I-I'm sorry... Y/N..."

As much as I knew I had to leave, I couldn't I was worried about him. I reluctantly placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's happening?"

"I did it..." I said and sat on the ground. "I swear I didn't mean to get you hurt. But, I confess to everything. I  stole bolt and helm, I summoned the hound, I gave Percy the cursed shoes... And just now, I tried to kill Percy Jackson." He looked at me with empty eyes.

I shot up and looked at him in emotions I couldn't put in words. "W-Wh---" I wanted to leave and check on Percy. But once again, seeing him right now... I need to stay with him. "Why are you telling me this...?"

"Join me... please?" his voice was weak. He sounded vulnerable. "Let's serve my Lord together..."

"L-Luke... no. I-I can't do that!" I took his shoulder, "Y-You should stay with me instead. How about that, huh? L-Let's explain to Chiron and the others... come on please. I could help you!"

Nothing was working.

"Come with me..." He muttered.

"Luke, I won't join you. You have to change your mind. You can't do this."

"I can't change my mind."

"I can help you with that? How about you go with me huh? I could spend all my time doing this and that. Please, just change your mind."

He didn't reply for a while until he whispered, "Promise me."

"Promise you what?"

"You'll stay with me."

"What? Luke I wo--"

"You won't join... Just...don't stay here for the year... and stay with me."

"I-If I stay with you... what would that mean?"

"Yo-You... might change my mind."

"I'll go." I replied with no hesitation. "I'll leave camp for the year. And I'll find my parent to prove to you that Gods and Goddess aren't all bad. We'll find my parent together."

"I do my lord's bidding--"

"You can still do it. If you want to. But whatever happens... stays only between us. I'll stay with you until I change your mind. And I'll bring you back to camp."

"I would never do anything to ruin your trust in me." He knelt down. It was kinda awkward but hey... "I need you."

Worry not hero. We shall stay.

"Please..."

We'll meet again. Wait for us, we shall join you soon. Now leave.

I had no idea what happened since when I came to Luke was gone and there was no sign of him anywhere. How were we going to st---

We will meet him once we leave. Now go as our hero needs us.

I suddenly remembered Percy's state that Luke had told me about. So I ran. I ran to the Big House

***

Percy finally opened his eyes. He was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, his right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Annabeth and I sat next to Percy, I was holding his nectar glass and she was dabbing a washcloth on his forehead.

"Here we are again," Percy said. "You idiot," Annabeth said, "You were green and turning gray when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing..." "Now, now," Chiron's voice said. "Percy's constitution deserves some of the credit." He was sitting near the foot of the bed in human form. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved." "Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened." Between sips of nectar, he told them the story.

I bit my lip trying to keep what happened between Luke and I private. It was a risky move that would not be approved by anyone after all. The room was quiet for a long time. "I can't believe that Luke..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him.... He was never the same after his quest."

Percy was looking at me as if checking what was my reaction to his story. "This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once." "Luke is out there right now," Percy said. "I have to go after him." Chiron shook his head. "No, Percy. The gods—" "Won't even talk about Kronos," Percy snapped. "Zeus declared the matter closed!" "Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready." "Chiron... your prophecy from the Oracle... it was about Kronos, wasn't it? Was I in it? Y/N? And Annabeth?" Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place—" "You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?" His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you..." Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows. "All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!" He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing." "We can't just sit back and do nothing," He said. "We will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come." "Assuming I live that long." Chiron put his hand on Percy's ankle. "You'll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice...." I got the feeling that he had a very definite opinion, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise me. "But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision." "I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you." He glanced at Annabeth. "Oh, and, my dear... whenever you're ready, they're here." "Who's here?" Percy asked. Nobody answered. Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time. Annabeth studied the floor. "What's wrong?" Percy asked her. "Nothing. I ... just took your advice about something. You ... um ... need anything?" "Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside." "Percy, that isn't a good idea." Percy slid his legs out of bed. Annabeth and I caught him before he could crumple to the floor.

I said, "I told you ..." "I'm fine," He insisted.

He managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on me. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance. By the time we reached the porch, his face was beaded with sweat. But we had managed to make it all the way to the railing. It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun. "What are you going to do?" Annabeth asked us. "I don't know." Percy replied. "I got the feeling Chiron wanted me to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but I'm not sure that's what I want. I also don't want to leave you both with Clarisse only." Annabeth pursed her lips, then said quietly, "I'm going home for the year, Percy." He stared at her. "You mean, to your dad's?" She pointed toward the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia's pine tree, at the very edge of the camp's magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted—two little children, a woman, and a tall man with blond hair. They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had gotten from Waterland in Denver. "I wrote him a letter when we got back," Annabeth said. "Just like you suggested. I told him... I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided... we'd give it another try." "That took guts." She pursed her lips. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least ... not without sending me an Iris-message? Both of you?" Percy managed a smile. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

"You already know my plans."

"When I get back next summer," she said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?" "Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena."

She held out her hand. Percy shook it. She gave me a hug. "Take care, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth told Percy. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

Then turned to me, "Good luck on your own quest Droopy."

"Of course Peabody." We watched her walk up the hill and join her family. She gave her father an awkward hug and looked back at the valley one last time. She touched Thalia's pine tree, then allowed herself to be lead over the crest and into the mortal world. "I made my decision." Percy said. "What's yours?"

"I'll be leaving camp... I'm going to look for my parent..." He looked at me in shock. "I'll be back next summer," I promised him. "I'll survive until then."

"Alone?"

I smiled at him.

"Don't you want to stay with us? Mom said---"

"I want to find my parent. I need to. I'll be fine Percy."

I helped Percy to his cabin so he could pack and went to mine. To my surprise I see a middle-aged man with an athletic figure slim and fit with salt-and-pepper hair, and a very familiar sly grin. He had bags at his foot.

"Delivery for Y/N L/N."

"Uhm..."

"Hermes." He said.

I froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Personally packed. As a thank you for what you're about to do." He smiled softly and handed me the bags.

"H-Huh...?"

"For helping Luke."

"I..."

Don't forget her mail!

Ooh! And tell her to bring us snacks next time we meet since it'll be often now!

No it wouldn't be often! She'll be with Luke!

"Both of you keep quiet." Pulling out a mail he handed it to me. "Luke... prayed to me telling me about your plan. He asked me to help you. I don't know what or why he did it. But I know he'll change thanks to you. So do guide him."

"Sorry you lost me at the talking air..." I blinked.

Hermes laughed and showed a caduceus. "It's just George and Martha."

"Hi?"

Hello!

Hi

"I just wanted to let you know. No god or goddess could see you. No matter how hard they tried. So your secrets.. are really secrets. Good luck on your travel."

Next time we meet you should have snacks.

Then he vanished.

Staring at the letter on my hand, I was stunned seeing it was from... my mom and dad.

Sweetie,

You've made quite a friend here.

-Mom and Dad.

I immediately knew where to look. I hurriedly took my bags not bothering to check the contents. I ran to Percy's cabin and helped him out so we could leave.

Percy got a cab and looked at me worriedly.

"I'll write you. Stay safe Arthur Curry." I ruffled his hair and watched him go.

I didn't know where to go so I just went to the first secluded area I saw.

"You have more stuffs than when you arrived." I heard someone behind me.

"You prayed to your dad. I hope he knows how to pack." I sighed turning to him. Turning around I barely made out Luke from the few days I last saw him. "You okay?"

"Do you know where to look first?"

Call upon our hound.

I whistled, I don't know why. But when I did, D/N came out of the blue. Luke looked at me and my dear dog, who was probably bigger than the hound he'd summon back then. "How do feel about L.A?" I said riding on D/N and making space behind me for Luke.

~~~END OF BOOK 1~~~

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END OF BOOK ONE!!! THANK YOU FOR READING YLATHB I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! I'LL PUBLISH BOOK 2 WHEN I'M DONE OR EVEN AT LEAST HAVE WRITTEN 5 CHAPTERS OF THE BOOK 2 ;))

I HOPE TO SEE YOU NEXT TIME!!!

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

[catxsnow]

PROM DATES

Request: Hey, could I request a batmom where the topic "prom" comes up (idk how) and batmom says she never went there and regrets it and batfam makes her her "own" prom and she dances with all of her sons.

Warning: fluff

A/N: This was so freaking cute!! I loved writing it, all the fluffy feels 

GIF not mine

Word count: 2.4k

Bruce Wayne's kids didn't get along. They fought, argued, and even threatened to maim each other. However,  they would also die for each other, avenge each other, and fight anyone that tried to hurt them. They had a messed up family, but if there was one thing that they could agree on, it was how much they loved you.

Each Robin grew up with you in their life. You were there to support them, help them when needed, and be the person to look to when they needed guidance. They might not have been your own kids, but you loved them like they were. Bruce loved you for that. It was a crazy family that you had formed, but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Alfred had worked far too hard for you family. He never showed that the work was ever too much for him, but you knew that when you offered for him to take the day off and relax that he appreciated it more than you could imagine. You decided that it was your time to clean the massive Wayne Manor.

Hours of washing and scrubbing as your family worked themselves away down in the cave. It was nice having the place to yourself. Music was blasting and you were able to dance around without any of your kids teasing you for it.

By the time that you reached the study, you had found an old album of Bruce from high school. He looked far younger than he did now. Stress free, no wrinkles, still the same smile that he gave you now. He looked handsome, but that never changed with his age. You couldn't stop yourself from flipping through the album to see what his life was like before you.

He seemed so different back then. Sports, hanging out with his friends, being irresponsible. You didn't think Bruce was ever capable of that. It was when you reached his senior prom pictures did you stop to admire. He looked better than ever with his suit on and a smile on his face. No lines of stress or thick scars were on his skin. 

"(Y/N)!" You nearly jumped as you name was called out. You were far to engrossed in the album that you hadn't noticed Damian and Tim exit the cave. They looked excited to see you - as they always did. Tim moved to stand behind the chair you were sitting in and Damian stood at you side.

"Bruce looks so different," Tim looked at the pictures in shock. Damian analyzed his father, at that age he looked the spitting imagine of Damian. "His prom date doesn't even compare to you. Who was your prom date in high school?"

"I never went to prom," you sighed. High school was a long time ago, but you still regretted not going to your senior year prom. Getting to dress up and get your hair done, it was something that you never got to experience. It had been decades and you still missed not having that night.

"No one ever got around to asking me and all my friends had dates already. I didn't want to go alone," you explained to them. Tim placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. He had seeing you upset about things - especially so mundane like this where there was nothing that he could do to fix it.

"It seems lame anyways," Damian scoffed. He didn't enjoy the idea of wearing a fancy suit just to stand around in some gym with half-ass decorations and people who didn't wish to be there. To him, it was pointless. But he could see that this night meant something to you. He didn't want to see you upset about it.

You suddenly closed the album, not wanting to think anymore about your own past anymore. Tim and Damian looked between each other. It didn't take being the son's of Batman to realize that you were upset. You kissed the tops of their heads and ushered them to to the kitchen for lunch.

Tim and Damian walked far behind you and paused to glance at each other once more. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Tim asked.

"For once, yes."

><

All week you had been suspicious of your family.

For the first time in a long time, Jason had come home without your request. Dick was more giddy than normal. Even Damian seemed to hint at a smile every time he looked at you. Whatever they were scheming, you wanted no part of it. Last time they had those looks, a prank war nearly broke out.

Saturday morning, Bruce had offered to take you out for brunch. It wasn't very often that you got to lavish on dates, but he claimed that the media needed to see you out and about together - you were just happy to spend time with him. He also encouraged you to dress fancy since the place you were going to was rather expensive.

You loved getting dressed up for him - mostly because you got to hear the endless amount of compliments from him.

Brunch went as you expected it to. Delicious food, pictures from the paps, and the best kind of company with the man you loved. No matter the time or place with Bruce, you always loved getting to be with him.

He took the long way home, wanting to show you the new development that WE was working on. It was going to be a beautiful new building that would help thousands. You were always amazed at what Bruce could come up with. He held you hand the rest of the drive back, gazing over with love in his eyes.

There was a hint of a smile on his face as he drove up to your home. Something had been up with him all morning and you still weren't sure what it could have been. Nonetheless, you graciously accepted his hand as he opened the door for you and walked up to the doors of the Manor.

"What's with you?" You stopped him. You hand rested on his chest while the other was still intertwined with his own. "You look far happier than you ever are."

"Am I not allowed to be happy when I'm with my beautiful wife?" Bruce leaned down to kiss you again. You smiled into it, even more so when he pulled away. Only with you, did Bruce's gaze ever soften. "Come on, let's go inside."

Bruce pushed open the front doors and you were nearly taken aback with shock. Your front entrance no longer was the spotless floor that it usually was, but instead, was covered in classic high school decorations. A picture backdrop was in the far corner, a balloon arch right as you walked in, there were even streamers hanging from the high ceilings.

You felt like you were back in high school again. However, it was the decorations that caught your attention, it was how beautiful and handsome your adoptive kids looked standing in the middle of the foyer. For the first time in a long time, everyone had gathered together, just for you.

Dick, Duke, Tim, Jason, and Damian were in the best suits they owned. Their hair was styled and the all had gleaming smiles as they watched your expressions. Steph and Cass were there as well, both of them in gowns that looked so perfect on them that they looked way more grown than you ever remembered them being.

"What's all this for?" You asked. You broke away from Bruce's hold and did a full spin of the room to see everything that they had done for you. Finally, you had seen the prom poster with the year that you had graduated hanging up. "You recreated my prom?"

"You said you regretted not going," Tim spoke up. He looked over to Damian, who had been the one to help him get everything set up for you. "We wanted to let you have that special day, too."

Tears brimmed your eyes at the idea that they had gone through all of this just for you. Getting everyone together was hard enough as it was, you had no idea how Damian of all people was able to swing something like that. That was the thing, they all loved you enough that they didn't have issue to clear their plans for the day just for you.

Damian was the first to notice the tears in you eyes. He broke the formation that they had and approached you. He looked up at you for a brief moment before latching around your waist. You knelt down so that you could be eye level with Damian instead. He didn't say anything, but you knew what he had on his mind. "I love you too, Damian," You kissed his cheek.

He went back to his original spot and just as he did, music started to play. You had just noticed Alfred standing off to the side with a record player by him. Bruce stuck his hand out for you to grab, "May I have this dance?"

"Of course, my love."

Your afternoon had gone nothing like you expected it to that morning. The surprise of having your kids recreate something so irrelevant in their lives, just for you, warmed your heart. The conversation about prom with Tim and Damian had been so short, you never assumed that they even thought twice about it.

You were wrong, very wrong. They had managed to create you the perfect prom. They even played all the same music that was from your year, it was incredible. You had finally gotten the prom that you wanted, and this was far better than what it would have been in high school.

With this, you had the chance to dance with each of your sons, and the love of your life. Dick had been the most giddy to ask you to dance. The second that Damian had brought the idea up to him, he was all for. You were the most important person in his life growing up, he would do anything to make you happy.

Dick was grand and dramatic as he twirled and dipped you. As the oldest, and having known you the longest, he wanted to make the best first impression of your prom. You were laughing and smiling the whole time he danced you around.

Jason didn't look overly thrilled to be there, but his attitude changed as he danced with you next. Growing up, you were always his biggest supporter. Even now, with Bruce opposing all of his new morals, you still saw that excited little boy in him. For him, you were his voice of reason, you respected him in a completely different way than the rest of his family.

It was moments like those did Jason realize just how lucky he was to have you in his life. When your song ended, Jason had pulled you into a tight hug, muttering words of thanks quiet enough that the others couldn't hear. No matter what he did, he always wanted your praise.

Tim had been next. "I can't believe you did all this for me," You told him. "I don't think I can ever thank you enough, this is... this is beyond incredible."

"Of course I did it for you," Tim smiled. He spun you around in your dance before continuing. "I think if Damian and I can agree on something then it must be very worth doing. We love you, (Y/N). You're the best adoptive mom we could ever ask for."

"As crazy as you kids are, there's no other family I'd rather be in," You agreed. As the dance ended, Tim kissed the top of your head and allowed Duke to take his spot. Duke grinned as he grabbed your hand.

He always felt like he didn't have the same kind of connection with you as the rest of the kids, but he couldn't be more wrong. Duke was an excellent kid, and you were so beyond proud to say that you had a part in making him who he was today. "You look so grown up in that suit."

"I am grown up," Duke argued. He was. All of them were. They weren't the young Robin's that showed up broken and alone to your home. They were all - besides Damian - grown up. You wanted to hold onto Damian's youth forever, you feared the day that he would leave you and Bruce.

Finally, it was Damian that offered his hand to dance. His hair was slicked back and he looked just the image of Bruce. The older he got, the more you saw his father in him. "Thank's for doing this, Damian. It means a lot to me."

"It wasn't difficult," Damian tried to play it off. He was much shorter than the rest of your dance partners, but he had more skill than the rest. He didn't twirl or dip you, but you swayed around the entire 'dance floor'. "I'm happy that you're enjoying yourself."

As the last song ended, you were left feeling happier than you had in ages. Seeing all your kids together, getting along and chatting? That was all you wanted in your life. You hated seeing them fight, but you knew that they all had their reasons - as well as their reasons against Bruce. As much as he wanted to keep them safe, he was too hard on them at times.

Bruce joined you once more, snaking his arms around you from behind and kissing along your jaw and cheek. You looked around the room at everyone. Tim was dancing with Steph, Cass with Duke. Damian and Dick were chatting while Jason was talking to Alfred. This had been the most peaceful your home had been with everyone in it.

Bruce spun you around so you were facing him. His hands were low on your waist and he pulled you as close as he could. Once again, there was a loving smile on his face that was reserved only for you. "Today was perfect, Bruce."

"I'm glad," Bruce kissed you. He did a dramatic dip in the middle of the room, gaining the attention of everyone else. Dick had snapped a photo just at the right time. That picture would be better than any high school prom picture you would have had all those years ago. "I always wish you to be happy."

"I'm always happy when I'm with my family."