#like we were talking about gpas and i said like “oh my weighted gpa is a 96” and there all “oh huh that’s so bad”

[alaskan-wallflower]

my friends told me i was too annoying with “how supportive i was”, so i shut up for a few weeks, and now they’re complaining im a bad friend cause i “don’t support them anymore”

what

[bubblyhoney]

buncha kisses

warnings: mature language, Good music mention, slight suggestive content, lotta name calling!, basically just fluff

tags: sapnap x fem!reader (a continuation of [renamed from “a collection of moments at the beginning of your relationship”] win for me, basically, with college!au)

words: 1447

A/N: a very sweet anon requested a continuation of college!au with sappy and had some great ideas for me! i love when you guys interact and talk with me pls continue to do so! been receiving a lot of really encouraging attention from some of my favorite people (ahem, for example @strawberrymilkgeorge [among others] <3) so i just wanted to say thanks for that :)

-

It’s a sticky day in May.

It’s that kind of hot that irritates under the skin and works its way through the hair on your arms. Makes you want to either rip your skin off or sink into a pool full of ice.

May is a month that Florida doesn’t take very well; it’s either raining like it’s the Great Flood, or hot as a mosquito’s ball sack.

And to make matters worse, it’s the due date of a huge calculus project. Like— weighted heavier than the final kind of huge.

You’d gotten up three hours before your final at 9 just to cram. Your desk was littered with folders, chapter notes, and highlighters dull with use. A half-eaten bagel was off to the side, staling by the second.

That was before your AC broke. Yup. Broke. Ka-put. Just full on died—it was almost audible. Your roommate had stumbled into your room, face creased with sleep, and cursed for thirty seconds straight.

Completely understandable, actually.

But you didn’t have time to fret about the damn temperature. You just took your shirt off, kicked the box fan near your bed into the highest gear, and breathed hot anger down into your notes.

The only relief you would find would be lunch with Sapnap after your final. His apartment had air conditioning, and he was surprisingly deft with a knife and cutting board. Dude didn’t know how to figure the mechanics for emailing his film class project to you that one time last semester but could whip up a Greek salad and broiled chicken like no other. Your own little Gordon Ramsey.

He was yours now, officially. As of last month he was yours. A month full of drive-in movies, failed study dates, and an absurd amount of McFlurry’s.

And that’s what is waiting for you in Sapnap’s cup holder when you swing your way into his car with an exasperated look on your face. You just melt, eyes flicking up to his gratefully and silently taking it.

“How was the final?” He lays a hand on the gear shifter and nudges the AC up one more tick. The door closes behind you and you shuffle your legs apart, leg hair tingling in this heat.

“It was fucking brutal. I think I developed an ulcer just looking at the reference page,” you huff and he just shakes his head, laugh hot on his lips. “Absolutely not worth the studying—think I got a good grade, though.”

“Well, that’s cool. I’m proud of you.” The engine chugs to life when he shifts into drive and starts for the side street.

“Thanks.” Your cheeks blush ever so lightly but you pass it off to the heat. A moment passes. “So.” The straw makes a choking noise as it nudges at the bottom of an empty cup. Jesus, you finished that fast. “What’s on the menu for today?” Brandy’s Sunny Day lilts softly into the blasting air as you settle into a comfortable conversation, schoolwork at the back of your mind.

“Thinking of making banana chocolate chip muffins and pigging on those. Thoughts?” Flicking on his left turn signal with his left hand, the right slides onto your knee.

It’s never too hot for that.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, voice small in a sudden bout of shyness. He double-takes with a smile, squeezing once at your leg.

Pigging is a perfect term for what you two do the second those muffins are out of the oven; it is too easy to shove three of those in a matter of seconds. Bellies full and in a sugar coma, you two lay under the whirring of his living room’s fan and stare up at the ceiling.

“This feels so good,” he mumbles, eyes half-lidded. Reaching a hand out, he pats his way to your hand and takes it, immediately squeezing it. “Wish you were kissing me right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” You taunt and hike a leg up onto his hips, swinging onto his lap and leaning to get your lips near his.

And that’s that.

The night is perfect.

Sapnap ushered you into his car at midnight and within four minutes you were on a US freeway with your head out the window. Like a dog.

A lone bird flies past in the dark air and you watch it swing into a patch of trees. You just close your eyes and breathe.

The stress literally melts. Melts into a puddle and drips out of you, falling onto the black pavement whipping past at a moment’s notice. School is a bitch already, much less an American college education. Grades and tests and professors and GPA’s and all that.

You swear Logan Lerman’s character knew what he was talking about when he said “we were infinite” in The Perks of Being A Wallflower. That’s what this feels like: infinity. Going 70 in a car driven by your hunk of a boyfriend, feeling the wind in your hair and the taste of midnight in between your teeth.

The inside of the car feels sweet when you duck your head back in, smile wide and hair crazy and a content look in your eyes. Sapnap gives you a glance before looking back at the road nonchalantly and lifting to curl and twitch two fingers at you. You instinctively move forward, eyebrows drawn together in curiosity. Three fingers grip your jaw tight, and then his mouth is on yours as the chorus of The King swells through the speakers. You only get two seconds to hum in happiness and slide a hand up his chest before he’s pulling away and has those beautiful eyes back on the road.

“You’re mean to me,” you sigh, and settle back into your seat with a ‘hmph’. He just looks smug. Bastard.

The nights Sapnap plays video games with his friends are—hm. Definitely something. You like to let him have those nights with no distractions most of the time; and you’re categorized as a distraction by the amount of times he “lags” when giving you a kiss or getting you on his lap.

Tonight, he got off work early and on the drive home called and asked if you’d come over and sit with him while he Robloxes with his friends. (“It’s like you can’t go one day without your hands on me,” you’d teased, but he couldn’t say a thing in response. You were right, needless to say.) “You can bring your paints!” he’d even added, knowing you like to watercolor as a hobby. You weren’t necessarily Etsy-worthy but it was fun and a stress-reliever.

And so here you were. Legs crossed, sketch pad in your lap, watching your adult boyfriend yell so loud that his voice cracks and breaks with every change of tone. You really had to remember to apologize to his neighbors…

“Baby—,” Sapnap starts, swinging around in his chair to hit you with a look so pouty his lip was in danger of falling off. “My dear girlfriend. My lovely woman.” His question doesn’t even need to be asked— he wants you to go get him a drink.

“You’re a misogynist. I’m calling NOW on you.” But you’re already heaving yourself off of his mattress and heading into the hallway, faux-annoyed look on your face. It melts into a smile upon seeing that little canvas mounted on the wall next to the door to his bathroom. It was a haphazard portrait of his parent’s dog Bowser that you’d drawn the few days his step-mom forced him to bring you home over spring break.

When you return to his room a few minutes later with a Bang and a couple of snacks for yourself, Sapnap has his headphones off and is swinging his feet in his chair like a child waiting for their parents to pick them up from school. You approach him, apprehensive smile on your face, and hand his drink over.

“Thank you,” he drawls, mid-yawn, and sets it down on the desk. Snaking an arm around your waist, he drags you between his legs and stuffs his face into your shirt. He inhales deeply but pulls away after a pause, hands tight on your abdomen. You press a thumb into his cheek and rub fondly at his facial hair, watching the way his eyes close calmly and relax.

“You’re so cute it causes me physical pain,” is all you get out before leaning and pressing a kiss square on his pink lips. They move against yours like they were meant to, one hand sliding up the material of your shirt and onto your warm skin.

“You smell like Subway,” he murmurs, and then the moment’s over.

Typical.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

[cigarettesandslushies]

destress // jd x stressed!reader

jd helps you destress from studying for midterms 

word count: 1,700 

tw: language, smut, ambiguous gender but was written for a female!reader in mind

requests & questions

Note: Hello! I’m a new writing blog! I am an aspiring writer and thought it would be fun to get in some practice by writing for some of my favorite fandoms. I’ve been wanting to write JD x Reader fics for a while so I’m happy to finally be doing that. Please feel free to send in requests! This is my first-time writing smut so be gentle with me (even if JD isn’t being gentle with you). -Ellie

“Shit, did a fucking tornado hit your room?”

You didn’t acknowledge the intruder that entered through your bedroom window. You didn’t have the time to. With multiple midterms coming up that you weren’t the least bit prepared for, every second from now until then was precious.

“Not even a hello, darling?”

You could tell that a brow of his was quirked, teasing. He very well knew that midterms were next week. Though, compared to you, he couldn’t give less of a shit. How you wish you could do the same.

“JD, not now.” You warned.

He stood, appraising your midterm wrecked room quietly. Notes, textbooks, and wrappers galore decorated various surfaces, from the floor to the bed to your vanity.

He walked, watching each step as he made his way towards you. You were hunched over your desk, nose deep in one of your textbooks. Your highlighter was tapping against the wood of your desk, keeping time with the anxious bounce of your leg.

He was behind you in the next moment, resting his head against yours. He placed his hands on your thighs firmly, slowing your movements. You took a deep breath, setting your book down. Your head titled up, moving his head from yours in order to meet his gaze.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of your lips upon seeing him. God, he was such a better sight than statistics.

“Hello.” You murmured.

He matched your smile, dropping his volume to yours. “See? Now was that so hard?” He pressed his lips against your forehead. “Hello, darling. How are you? Did you miss me?”

You rested your head back against him. Your eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the warmth of his body. “No. Not even a little bit. Statistics has been the best company.”

“Oh, really? I’m going to wager that stats is fucking you pretty hard.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Maybe even harder than you.”

“Are you challenging me? You know I always win.”

You took a deep breath. The slight smile gone from your face and replaced with a deep frown. Your eyebrows pulled together, your face scrunching to meet the stress headache growing.

“JD, you know on any other day I would want you to win. I can’t.”

“Come on, give me just an hour.”

“Bullshit.” You were quick to reply. Your eyes flew open to stare up at him. “Like we’ve ever gone just an hour. You keep me for multiple hours which I don’t have. I’m already losing sleep as it is. I promise you can keep me up some other night but tonight-“

He stepped back, grabbing the back of your chair, and spinning you to face him. “Darling,” he drawled slowly. “You’re losing it.”

You blinked once, your gaze falling into your lap as you processed his words. Your hands met your head, elbows resting on your knees as you curled up into yourself. “I know.” You spoke into your hands. “God, JD, I’m so fucking stressed. I have so many midterms to study for without enough hours in the day. I can’t fail these. They’re worth so much of my grade. It will ruin my GPA if I get anything less than-”

“Sh, sh…” he crouched, leveling himself with you. “How about we round up your teachers in an abandoned building and blow it up, hm? Would that make this all better?”

You would have laughed if you didn’t know that he was completely serious. This boy would do anything for you. He’s proved that time and time again. “Getting rid of the teachers wouldn’t get rid of the classes themselves. I’d still have to take the midterms eventually.”

“You’d at least get more time.”

“True.” You agreed. Another deep breath and you lifted your head from your hands. “I think it would just be easier for me to study. It would take time and planning to pull it off and anyway, do you want to go through a whole grieve fest at school?”

“It would make for an interesting week.”

“You aren’t funny.”

“No, I’m hilarious.” He took your hands in his, pulling you up from your seat. “Fine, no offing the teachers, but you know the more that you try to cram all that shit in your head, the more it will spill out. Breaks are healthy, recommended even.”

A finger under your chin, a thumb resting below your lip, he brought his face closer to yours. He was close, too close. You smelled his last cigarette and a cherry slushie lingering in his breath.

“Let me help you destress.” He ghosted the words over your lips. How could you ever think that you could deny him? How could you ever think that he wouldn’t get his way?

All it took was a quiet please and his hands were everywhere.

With one swift movement, JD knocked the contents of your desk onto the floor. With another, you were sitting on top of it, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He caught your lips with his, too slow, too gentle.

You didn’t have the patience for his teasing.

You intertwined your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer. You pressed your lips harder against his, showing him your eagerness to have him, just as he wanted.

You could feel him smirk against your lips, his hands moving to undress you from the waist down.

“Well, would you look at that? For someone who didn’t want to even acknowledge me, you sure are eager to have me inside of you.”

You bit back a moan, his words touching you before he even laid a hand between your legs.

Fucking asshole and his way with dirty talk.

“Jason Dean, you’re a pain in my ass.” You replied breathlessly.

A low chuckle followed as you dragged your lips across his jawline in a sporadic series of kisses. You bucked your hips up towards him, a sign for him to hurry the hell up and take you already.

You would have been surprised if he actually took the sign instead of ignoring it and taking another direction.

“Nu uh, darling. I can’t shove my cock in you and fuck you into the desk until the wood chips just yet. With how stressed you are over midterms, I’m not sure if you can handle it. So let me loosen you up first, hm?”

He didn’t wait to slip a finger inside of you, then two, and then three. You leaned back along the desk, your elbows barely keeping you up and steady. He set a rhythm, relishing the sounds that you made for him and him alone. Whimpers, gasps, and moans alike were all tangled with his name.

He felt you were getting close. He could always tell, sometimes before you even knew. You never quite knew how close you were to falling off the edge until he was pulling away from you, leaving you empty and longing for him to fill you again.

Just like he liked it.

“JD,” you breathed shakily. You didn’t realize that your elbows had failed you early on and you were lying completely flat against the desk. You shifted your weight, lifting yourself back up and onto your elbows once more. Your eyes narrowed when you caught his gaze.

“What? Did you not want to cum on my cock after all?” He asked innocently, a contrast to the words that came from his mouth.

“God, I could kill you.”

“There can be only one killer in this relationship, darling.” He drawled, undoing his jeans. He was hard and so ready to fuck you until you couldn’t remember the population versus the sample. He hesitated, almost expecting another retort, another “you’re not funny”, but no. You weren’t going to drag this out any longer. You wanted him now.

You needed him now.

“JD, please. For the love of god, fuck me.”

He didn’t even have to ask for a please. He knew that meant there was nothing else in your head but wanting him to fuck you.

Would there ever come a time that he wouldn’t get exactly what he wanted?

“Only because you asked so nicely.” It only took a single beat, a single thrust before he was inside of you completely, barely giving you a chance to adjust to him. You let yourself fall back onto the desk, crying out his name.

The rhythm he set was faster, rougher. His fingers curled over your shoulders. His hands pushed you down as his hips pushed you up. Every thrust was met with force. He never let you move. He did the moving for you. He was in full control, using your body for his pleasure which just so happened to cause you pleasure.

A perfect match, that’s what he said, and you believed it. He knew exactly where to hit the tip of his cock to make you-

“JD, I’m getting-”

“Mmm, I can feel that. I didn’t think you could get any tighter.”

“JD-”

His lips caught the rest of your whine. His movements were sloppier now, his hands messily tangling themselves in your hair. He was close too.

As he pulled back ever so slightly, he uttered three words. “Cum for me.”

With that, you came undone and he followed closely behind. Screams and moans of ecstasy were muffled against one another’s lips. It took a few moments for the both of you to catch your breath. He waited until your breathing steadied to pull out.

He pressed his lips against your forehead. “There. That should get you through stats.”

You laughed. “It should, but is it going to get me through French?”

“Finish studying for stats and we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Let’s get you cleaned up and while you finish studying, I’ll go get you some real food. No more of this granola shit.”

He began walking towards the bathroom but stopped halfway across your room. He didn’t turn to look at you when he said:

“You’re one of the smartest people I know. I know it’s not much coming from a town full of slaves and blanks but if there’s anyone who can pass these midterms it’s you.”

He continued walking.

[daveeddiggsit]

The Plan

WIDEOUT MASTERLIST

Series: WIDEOUT (chpt viii)

Note: Thank you @braidedchallah for proofreading. Reminder — before you kill me — there is one chapter left (and an epilogue). Keep that in mind. Enjoy. Feel free to yell at me afterwards. If you’re reading this, I’m sorry for what you’re about to experience.

Word Count: 12.2k

Pairing: Football Player!Thomas Jefferson x Tutor!Reader

Warnings: angst. possible breakup. perhaps some crying. implied sex (more than once). thom being a perfect boyfriend. thom looking fine af in denim (i’m trash).

Summary: Goodbyes are hard.

Tags: @coololdsoulpoetlove @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @lilangeldevil006 @pana-ce-a @merrahonthawall @katierpblogg @thespianbooks @a-hopeless-fan @uniquelystarchildthedragon @wcreech @sabbrriiinnaa @imperial-martian @harpersmariano @icanneverbesatisfied @underthewillowtreerycb @i-know-i-can @astralaffairs @braidedchallah​ (if i forgot anyone i apologize, just lemme know for next time)

As one of the smartest kids in your graduating class, you have a certain reputation to uphold. Maintaining a perfect 4.0 GPA isn’t easy, which means that you have to choose all the right answers and make all the right decisions. 

As it turns out, you seem to be pretty good at that. Being right about a lot of things, academic or not, seems to come naturally to you. Especially when it comes to a certain curly-haired athlete who also happens to be your boyfriend of over a year.

You had been right when you told him that he would recover from his ankle injury on the night it happened. Well, you can’t be entirely sure of that yet since he’s still not clear to engage in full-action sports, but it’s incredibly clear that he’s well on his way to recovering fully.

Almost exactly seven weeks after the incident, he’d gotten his cast removed and replaced with a boot so that he could put weight on his ankle again. Since then, he’s been in physical therapy almost daily in order to make sure that he’s healing the right way. According to him, he’s progressing well every week and is slowly regaining his mobility, strength, and speed. Just two weeks ago he ditched the boot so that he could finally put on a pair of shoes; you remember the grin on his face when he gave you a little dance to show off the new kicks he’d gotten as celebration.

He’s not 100% healthy yet, and he certainly won’t be back on the field (or track) for another couple months until he’s clear to practice, but you’re proud that he’s been able to recover as much as he has in relatively so little time.

On the night of his injury, you’d also been right about another thing: the fact that Thomas would receive college offers.

And that’s what you’re celebrating today.

After weeks and weeks of advocating for himself and sending his player reel and personal letters to the head coaches of schools he wanted to attend, he finally got an offer from one of his top college choices: the University of Virginia.

While their football team isn’t the most notable in the nation, their program is one of the best in the state of Virginia at a Division I level, and that’s pretty much all Thomas wants. After he recovers fully, Thomas will make an excellent asset to the team since one of their starting wide receivers is entering the NFL Draft after this year. 

At UVA, Thomas would get the play time he needs to shine and show his true colors and talent as a wide receiver all while having a coaching staff there to support him and his every need. Their academic program for liberal arts is also something Thomas has been looking at in a school since he plans on majoring in English.

With all of that said, the Jefferson household decides to host a special dinner for their son in celebration of the wonderful news. 

And while under normal circumstances, you would feel happy and excited for your boyfriend and his amazing accomplishment, instead you have a voice that lingers in the back of your mind reminding you of the similar news you had received just a week prior.

Thomas isn’t the only one with a huge scholarship offer.

After applying to many different schools with somewhat notable engineering programs in-state (because let’s be real, out-of-state tuition is absurdly expensive), you’ve received only a few grants from NYU and Syracuse University, but it isn’t enough to cover all of tuition.

But when you’d received an email last week from the one out-of-state school you had applied to last minute, your heart had just about dropped from your chest.

UCLA is offering you a full-ride.

You should be happy that you have an incredible offer. You should be elated for Thomas with his scholarship offer, too. However, you can’t help but feel a looming sense of stress every time you think about telling him.

That’s why you haven’t told him yet; it’s been nine days.

“Y/N?”

Thomas’ voice snaps you out of your thoughts and suddenly you are brought back to reality. You’re dressed up and sitting at the dinner table with Thomas across from his parents. The menu of the night consists of a couple different French dishes that his mother had learned to make a few years back when they visited Paris for an entire summer. His mother’s rendition of the food is nothing short of amazing.

Your eyes meet the warm brown ones that belong to your boyfriend as you turn your head to glance at him next to you. “Hmm?”

”You didn’t hear anythin’ I said, did you?” Thomas chuckles, biting his lip as he watches you put on a guilty simper.

“No, sorry.” You breathe out a small laugh in order to cover up your underlying nervousness. “I zoned out for a minute there. What were you saying?” 

“Well, I’m arguin’ a case here. Technically, a hot dog — a piece of meat held together by two pieces of bread - is a sandwich, right? In simple terms and by definition this should be true, so don’t overthink it. My dad keeps saying it’s not, but please, Y/N, you gotta side with me this time.”

You take a breath in and click your tongue. “I don’t know, Peter, I think I gotta go with Thom on this one.”

“Yes!” Thomas celebrates, throwing his arms up dramatically. “I told you!”

Mr. Jefferson’s mouth drops at your response. “How dare you take his side. Did all those other times teaming up at dinner and making fun of him mean nothing to you?”

If it hadn’t been evident prior to this moment where Thomas gets his overdramatics from, then it’s certainly clear now.

“Case closed.” Thomas smirks, crossing his arms, proud of himself.

“What are you talking about? The case is far from closed.” His father retorts, splaying his arms out, causing Thomas’ mom to speak out. 

“Hey, calm down, you two. You’re gonna make a mess if you keep on bangin’ the table like that.” She chastises them. They both mutter their apologies before Thomas’ father continues on defending himself.

“Y/N, why’d you choose his side? You know I’m right. Don’t let that boy guilt trip you; he’s still gonna love you if you disagree with him.”

“Sorry, Peter.” You shrug, sneaking a glance at Thomas who’s watching you with a glint in his eyes. “As much as I don’t want to agree with your son on this one, I unfortunately do.”

Thomas pauses to narrow his eyes as you in puzzled manor. “‘Unfortunately?’ Your words wound me, sweetheart, really.” He says in a teasing tone before his smile turns smug as he directs his attention towards his father. “But you see, Dad? It’s 2 against 1. ‘M sorry to say, but your opinion is overruled.”

Mr. Jefferson waves his son off dismissively. “That’s horseshit; your mother hasn’t sided with anyone yet. We still have one more vote to count.”

“Language, Peter.” The woman in question warns, giving him a look that’s only half serious.

“Well, honey? You agree with me, don’t you?” Peter asks his wife with pleading eyes, causing her to roll hers.

“Sure, sweetie.”

You shake your head and smile, leaning back in your chair to watch the antics unfold.

“What? Ma, why you takin’ his side?” Thomas jumps in. “I’m supposed to be your favorite, you know.”

“Of course you’re my favorite; you’re my only child, Thomas.” His mother deadpans, causing Thomas to frown.

It’s Peter’s turn now to smirk at Thomas and you. “See? Now we’re tied. Opinion very much not overruled, thank you.”

“Wait, what was your side of the argument again?” Mrs. Jefferson asks her husband. “You said a hot dog is a sandwich, right?”

“No, that’s what I said.” Thomas interjects.

“Oh, well then I agree with Thomas.”

“Ha!” Your boyfriend exclaims, pointing at his dad. “I told you! Your opinion is not valid. Hot dogs are sandwiches. End of story.”

“They are not sandwiches! They are a different entity. How can you compare a ham and cheese to a weiner between two buns? Well I’ll tell you. You can’t!”

“For the last time, Dad. It’s a piece of meat in between two pieces of bread. That is classified as what? A sandwich!”

“With that logic, you’d say that a burger is a sandwich, too?”

“Yup.”

“There is somethin’ wrong with y’all.” Peter shakes his head, picking at the leftover food on his plate. “I thought I raised you better, T. Y/N, I expected you to take my side on this one.”

“Sorry, Mr. J.” You shrug. “Tommy’s right. A piece of meat in between two pieces of bread does indeed technically classify it as a sandwich.”

“Y’all got me thinkin’ that I’m the crazy one now.” Peter sighs defeatedly.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough of that nonsense.” Thomas’ mother chuckles, waving her hand in the air dismissively. “Thomas, honey, your father and I are very proud of you and are excited for your opportunity at UVA.”

“Thanks, Ma.” Thomas grins. “I’m excited, too.”

Under the table, Thomas’ hand finds yours and laces your fingers together. Its warmth is comforting and the small moment makes you forget about everything for just a moment. A small silence stretches on for a bit before Peter speaks up.

“So, Y/N, how are your college applications going? Have you gotten any scholarships yet? I feel like you’re too smart to not get anything.”

Your stomach drops at the question. You really hadn’t expected to be put on the spot like this, and while it is a simple question that you should be able to answer quickly… you don’t. You hesitate and Thomas notices. 

You want to tell the truth, you really do, but you can’t. This is Thomas’ night to celebrate and the last thing you want to do is mess it up with news that you’d be going to school across the country. Tonight is supposed to be about him, not you.

So you lie.

“Oh, um, no, not yet.” You chuckle nervously. The hand holding Thomas’ fidgets slightly and he squeezes lightly to try and help calm your nerves. “I mean, I’ve gotten into NYU and Syracuse so far. Still waiting to hear from Columbia. I haven’t heard much as far as scholarships, though, unfortunately. I’ve received a few grants here and there, but nothing too big.”

“Columbia, wow. What’s their acceptance rate? 10%?” Mrs. Jefferson asks, seemingly interested.

“6%.” Thomas jumps in to answer before glancing at you with a small smile. “I don’t think Y/N will have any trouble getting in, though.”

You send him the biggest smile you can muster, though you feel like it sort of comes out as a grimace. “Thanks, T.” You say softly.

Beat.

“What time is it? I think it’s past my bedtime.” Peter yawns, checking his watch. “10 o’clock? Where did the time go? Y/N, are you going to be okay driving home this late?”

“It’s not that late, Mr. Jefferson. I should be fine.” You’ve definitely driven home from Thomas’ place past 10pm before (multiple times), but you’re not telling him that. “I do think I should probably leave soon, though.”

“You wanna go get your things upstairs, then I can walk you out?” Thomas asks you with a mischievous look in his eye. Knowing him, he probably just wants to get you alone for a bit before you leave. Even through your nervousness to tell him the truth, you can’t deny his charm.

“Yeah, that sounds good, Tommy.”

Then, both you and Thomas excuse yourselves from the table. You make sure to thank Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson for dinner and the invite. You’re always honored to be included in their family events even if it’s something as small as dinner on a Friday night.

When you make it up to Thomas’ room, he doesn’t waste another moment before he kisses you softly, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek after he gently shuts the door.

“Been waitin’ to do that all night.” He grins afterwards, softly brushing over the skin of your cheek with his thumb.

You smile as you bring your hands up to his shoulders, wordlessly leaning forward to sweetly press your lips to his again.

“Missed you.” He mumbles as he pulls away to lean his forehead against yours. “Feel like we haven’t been seeing a lot of each other lately.”

He’s right. With both of you not having any classes together this year, you both worried about college applications, Thomas not in football season anymore and in and out of PT almost constantly, you two haven’t been seeing each other as much as you’d like. Another reason why you haven’t been able to tell Thomas about UCLA (aside from the fact that you simply don’t have the guts to do it).

“I know.” You sigh, looking off to the side for a second. “I’m sorry.”

“‘S not your fault. We’ve both been busy.”

“Yeah, but still.” You say softly. “Feels bad. I miss you.”

He chuckles. “Well, I’m right here, baby. Don’t need to go far.”

You smile haphazardly and roll your eyes as you bring your hand up to the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss. Who knows how many more of these you’ll get before you both graduate and have to go your separate ways.

Before it can go too far, you pull away again.

“T?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m so proud of you.” You say genuinely because you really want him to know. You feel like you don’t tell him enough (even though that’s not the case).  “Really, I am. You deserve that scholarship and so much more.”

“Thanks, love.” He murmurs while a soft smile adorns his face. “Hey, if none of these in-state schools give you anything, I think you’d have a good chance at getting something at UVA. They have an honors college that gives up a ton of grants and shit, you should look into it. I’m not sure if the applications are still open, but worth a try.”

You purse your lips before you give him your response. “Maybe, we’ll see.”

“I’m sure you’ll get something anyway, but just wanted to bring that up and let you know.”

“Appreciate the thought, Thom.”

Thomas grins, giving you one last peck on the lips before finally turning away to remove his overcoat. He double takes when he sees your face drop slightly. His eyebrows furrow as he notices your mood shift. “Hey, what’s wrong? Somethin’ botherin’ you? Not gonna lie, you’ve been a little off all night, sweetheart...”

You hesitate, not able to look him in the eye, the guilt eating you alive. The pressure of holding everything in is building up and while Thomas is normally your rock, the one you can go to for anything, you can’t this time, and you can feel it wearing you down.

You take in a shaky deep breath before you go to sit down on his bed, eyes cast towards the ground. “I’m okay, T, I’m just… stressed. With school.” You say, finally willing yourself to look up into his caring gaze. It hurts to lie to him, but you keep telling yourself that it’s his night.

“You sure?” He asks, taking a seat next to you to gently grab your hand in his. “Seriously, baby, I know when somethin’s up. What’s on that brilliant mind of yours, huh?” He lightly bumps his shoulder against yours in a teasing gesture, causing you to let out a half-hearted chuckle. He always knows how to get a laugh out of you, doesn’t he? “I know you’re worried about more than that stats test you have next week. Tell me what’s really botherin’ you.” He says softly, catching your gaze again.

Sighing once more, you tear your eyes away from his pleading ones. “I um…” You trail off after trying and failing to come up with another lie or excuse. 

Thomas always draws your worries and frustrations out of you; he knows you so well to the point where he knows exactly what to say to convince you to tell him something. Honesty has never been a problem in your relationship, and the last thing you want is to push it to a point of no return. You already feel terrible for withholding the truth; you want to be free from this secret you’ve been holding.

And suddenly seven words echo in your head:

“Tell him. He’ll understand. He loves you.”

Your eyes flit back up to meet his concerned gaze. Here it goes.

“I did get a scholarship. All tuition and expenses paid. I got the email a week and a half ago and I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

His eyes widen at the confession, taken aback by how big the news is.

“Holy shit, Y/N, that’s… that’s amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you. Not surprised, but proud nonetheless.” He says genuinely, a smile evident on his face before it drops slightly. “Why didn’t you wanna tell me?” There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again. “Wait, why’d you lie at dinner when my dad asked?”

You give him a sad smile before you look away again, fidgeting with your fingers on the hand that Thomas isn’t holding. “I didn’t want to take over your night, T. And I didn’t tell you when I found out because… the school’s in Cali.” You say, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

He cocks his head to the side slightly, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “I thought you only applied to schools in-state.”

You shake your head, pursing your lips before you respond. “That’s what I had planned originally, but my advisor pushed me to apply for this scholarship program at UCLA and… well, I got in.”

Thomas goes silent for a few moments as he looks off to the side, breathing deeply. It’s hard to tell what he’s feeling. Then, he lets out a low whistle. “Full-ride to UCLA, huh?” He says softly before he turns to look at you. 

“Thomas…” You start, your voice soft and full of worry, but he continues to talk.

“Are you going to accept it?” He asks and you nod slowly. 

Ideally, you have no other real choice; by going to UCLA you’d graduate with zero debt. And with UCLA’s engineering program and opportunities that other schools can’t fulfill, it fills all the boxes you want in a university.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Really. I’m glad they recognize how amazing you are.” The tone in Thomas’ voice is fond and he’s absolutely sure of the words he’s saying. “It’s far away, I know, but we can make it work.” 

The emotions in his eyes are conflicting, but they still hold unrelenting love and support in them. When you hesitate to respond, his eyes search yours, trying to find some sort of answer in them, but before he can decipher anything, you tear your gaze from his.

“Right?” He asks as his grip on your palm loosens until your hand falls back into your lap, the warmth from Thomas’ fingers completely vanished. “Baby, talk to me. Please.”

“Thom, I�� I want to think that but I’m not sure.” You admit quietly, and having said that, you can see something in Thomas’ composure crumble.

He shakes his head. “Nah, don’t you say that. We can make this work, Y/N.” His voice wavers slightly as he stands up and runs a hand over his curls, smoothing them back and away from his face. “I haven’t accepted the offer at UVA. I can decline and apply to UCLA—”

“T, I’m not going to ask you to do that—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to ask me, love. I’m willing to do this all on my own. Like I said, we can make this work. I’ll improvise. My parents can afford it, then I can just join the football team as a walk-on. I’m confident I’ll make it. Since they didn’t give me an offer I’ll prove them wrong and be the best damn walk-on they ever had.”

“Thomas, don’t—”

“I can also have my dad send the head coach a letter. I didn’t wanna pull that for any other schools because I wanted to earn all my offers — and because of the whole nepotism thing — but I’ll make an exception for—”

“Thomas, please!” You raise your voice and when he finally stops, you immediately regret it. You’ve never raised your voice like that with him before and doing so right now feels terrible. 

“Please, T, just stop. I don’t want you to do any of that for me. How long have you been waiting for UVA to give you a chance? How many letters have you personally written to Coach Michaels, begging him to consider you for one of their open receiver positions?”

Thomas is silent as you speak, knowing full well that you have a point. You continue.

“You’ve been set on UVA as your top school for a couple months now. Don’t forget how hyped you were when you finally got the offer this morning. And now you want to just throw that away? No. I’m sorry, Thom, but I am not going to be the one to take it away from you.”

“You’re not.” He says earnestly. “Taking it away from me, I mean. I want to do this for you. For us. UCLA has a good football program, too, all I have to do is pull some strings if you’ll let me.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay, well I’m not letting you do that. Thomas, it’s not as easy as you’re making it seem. Think about this, okay? Think about yourself and your football career and all the opportunities that you’ll have for yourself down in Virginia. Don’t let me get in the way of that! I don’t want each of us to be an obstacle in each other’s successes.”

Thomas gives you an incredulous look and stills himself. “Are you serious? Is that what you consider our relationship? An obstacle?”

You look away, sighing. “No, T, I… I didn’t mean it like that, you know that.”

“No, Y/N. I don’t know that.” He looks at you with a distressed gaze, all traces of comfort and playfulness gone and replaced with hurt… caused by you — something you never would have thought you’d see in his eyes. 

“Look, I don’t wanna talk about this right now. Today’s supposed to be your day.”

“Let me get one thing straight, Y/N. Our relationship is not an obstacle… it never has been and it never will be.” Thomas says coldly and you cringe when he calls you by your full name in a tone that’s less than friendly.

“I just don’t want our love for each other to get in the way of…” You trail off, but decide against speaking mid-sentence. “You know what, nevermind.”

“Get in the way of what?”

“Thomas,” you start, making eye contact with him once again. “I don’t want to get in the way of your football career. It’s unfair; I can’t do that to you, T. You deserve to make the most of your career in college so that you can make it to the NFL. That’s your dream, right? To play in the NFL for the New York Giants like your father did. Am I right?”

His jaw clenches slightly as he nods, and you continue.

“The coach at UVA believes in you — even through your injury. Why are you going to throw that away? In order to be with your high school girlfriend? Do you see how childish that sounds?” A beat of silence passes before you continue in a softer tone. 

“I just… I don’t want you to do that, Thomas, it’s too big of a risk. You have a solid spot at UVA to prove yourself on the field. If you drop that for a walk-on position at UCLA, it’ll be a mistake. Instead of proving yourself to NFL recruiters, you’ll be set on proving yourself to college coaches just to get a chance on the field. I want you to have the best chances at making it to the NFL.” Now it’s your turn to stand up. You pace away from him as you continue to speak. 

“Let’s say you do follow me to UCLA and join the football program. What if… what if something happens while we’re in college and we’re not together anymore? What will happen? You’d have potentially messed up your career for me and I don’t want that to happen, T. I’m sorry but I won’t let that happen.”

Thomas holds a hand up to stop you from your ramblings. He speaks his next words slowly.  “Wait, wait, hold on now. You think we’re going to break up in college?”

You roll your eyes in frustration, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s not what I said—”

“No, no that’s exactly what you said.” He responds coldly, narrowing his eyes at you. “I’m starting to question our intentions in this relationship, Y/N. Did you ever plan on us being long term?”

“See, this is why I didn’t wanna tell you. I didn’t want this to happen.” You say, annoyed that it’s gotten to this point of you two having an argument.

“You just gonna ignore my question?”

“Before applying to schools, T, I wasn’t even thinking about the future. I was taking things day by day. We were both pent up in our little perfect world, but right now we need to face reality.”

“Okay, so then why’d you keep this a secret from me? Were you plannin’ on keepin’ this to yourself until graduation? I don’t know if you knew this, sweetheart, but a relationship is a two-way street and involves a little somethin’ called communication.” His snarky tone fills the room and has you rolling your eyes again. “Girlfriends aren’t supposed to lie to their boyfriends and then get mad at him for reacting a certain way when she finally decides to tell him huge news.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” You say, breathing out another sigh and softening up at his last sentence. He’s right; you shouldn’t have kept it a secret. “I wanted to tell you, I just, I don’t know what’s gonna happen after we graduate, okay? And I’m scared.”

“You don’t think we can work through that together? As a team?” Thomas’ eyes are begging you to reason with him. “I’m scared, too, but we’ll figure something out. Right?”

The look in your eyes is distant as you cast them down to the ground. “Yeah.”

“Maybe we could do a long distance thing. I’ve seen other couples do it.”

You fiddle with a loose thread on your sweater. “I don’t know, T. We’ll see if we can come up with something.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs out a hot-tempered laugh. “Okay.” He says shortly.

“What?”

“So you don’t want me to drop everything and go to UCLA with you, which is fine. I understand that. But now you’re telling me that you don’t wanna do long distance?”

“I didn’t say that, I just— we need to be realistic, Thom.”

“What does that even mean?!” He yells, and it’s the first time he’s ever raised his voice at you. You hate it.

“We have to keep the future in mind!”

“I want you in my future! Don’t you want me in your future?”

“We both have different ideas of what we want. Different dreams, okay? You can’t have your dream of making it to the NFL and also have me when I plan on going to an engineering program across the country!” 

You’re deflecting and he knows it.

“Answer the damn question, Y/N.” He says lowly, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Of course I want you in my future, Thomas!” You say exasperatedly, looking at the ceiling. “What kind of question is that?”

“Forgive me if I’m strugglin’ to believe that when you’re actin’ like this.” He says, his voice taking a more neutral tone, but he sounds exhausted. “You’re going to school across the country and you were hesitant to tell me - fine. I fucking get it. But you can’t just say that we’ll probably break up in college and think that that is fucking okay. It’s not! And you can’t say ‘I don’t know’ about dating long distance when that’s literally the only other option we have.”

“That’s the thing, Thomas. I don’t know if that’s the only other option we have.”

His face looks puzzled as he looks at you for a few seconds before realization finally settles in. Thomas narrows his eyes at you once again, his gaze cold, making your heart drop in your chest. “You wanna break up, don’t you?”

“No.” You state, choosing your words carefully. “I don’t want to. But we have to think about—”

“Our future, yeah. I get it.” Thomas snaps, cutting you off. “You know what? You want to talk about the future? Fine. Maybe we should.” He says simply, crossing his arms. “If you think we’re just going to break up in college anyway, maybe we should just speed up the process and get it over with.”

You shake your head at him. “Thomas, don’t do this. That’s not what I want.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s not.”

“I find that extremely hard to believe.”

“I’m done arguing with you, Jefferson.” You breathe out tiredly, running a hand through your hair.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He looks completely drained as he speaks again, his voice now calm. “What are we doing here, Y/N?”

A small silence fills the air before you answer quietly. “I don’t know, T.”

What are you both doing? Arguing about whether or not your relationship should continue after high school? Maybe you are being a little irrational about it, implying that you should break up before college and all. Thomas’ reaction to it all is understandable because he doesn’t want to lose you. However, he needs to be truthful to himself. Is this relationship going to work when the two of you are seeking entirely different career paths on opposite coasts?

What a fucking mess.

You hate that it’s gotten to this point. Your fear about telling Thomas and it going downhill has come true, and knowing that makes you even more emotional.

“Tommy… I…” You say sotto voce, on the edge of tears as you slowly reach for him, but he puts a hand up stopping you from moving any further. He turns his face so you can’t see his expression.

“Don’t, Y/N.” Thomas’ voice is firm, but it breaks slightly when he says your name. “Just don’t.” He whispers.

You watch him and he struggles to keep himself together. You hate that you’ve done this to him, that you’re making him feel this way… you hate that you’ve caused this.

“I’m gonna go…” You voice (barely above a whisper) after a long silent pause, not trusting your normal voice due to the shaky deep breaths that begin to rack your body. You’re on the verge of breaking down.

Thomas nods. “I think you should.”

And that breaks your heart.

You feel weird leaving like this, gross even. You don’t want to leave things off like they are. You don’t want to leave things unresolved and you don’t want to leave with Thomas still angry at you. Still, though, you grab all your things and head to the doorway of his room.

Pausing to look back at him, you open your mouth to say something, but hesitate. Deciding against it, you turn to open the door and leave without another word.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You call Maria as soon as you get to your car. She helps you keep your composure as you drive to her house, keeping you company via phone. You make sure to send your family a quick text of your whereabouts and that you plan to spend the night at Maria’s place.

As soon as you arrive in her bedroom and drop your bag to the ground, you break down and begin to sob, crashing into the welcoming arms of your best friend. You cry until you can’t anymore, and Maria is there for you the entire time hugging you and easing you through it.

She stays there, quiet and still, allowing you to let out all of your emotions. You don’t tell her the details about what happened until after you have no tears left to cry.

“Don’t be mad at T, please, none of this is his fault.” You sniffle, wiping at your nose with a tissue Maria gave you. “It’s all mine.”

“Y/N, don’t blame yourself for all this. You just want what’s best for the both of you in the long run. If he doesn’t understand that, then he’s just not seeing the whole picture.”

“I just hate arguing with him, Maria.” You say weakly, wiping at your face to dry your tears. “This is our first fight and I hate how I feel right now. I don’t want things to end on bad terms. How am I supposed to get over this feeling once we… if we break up before college?”

“You don’t have to end things on bad terms, Y/N.” Maria says softly. “You both need to be on the same page about this. If you both make a plan and sort things out, then maybe you can leave things on a positive note. Not as a goodbye, but as a see you later, you know? And if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. You’ll meet again one day and you can pick up where you left off. But if it’s not, then at least you guys can cherish what you had when you were just two kids in high school who didn’t know any better and made the most of their teenage years.”

You nod slowly. She does have a point, and this is all what you were thinking when you had even brought up the thought of breaking up after graduation.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“It’s my best friend superpower. I can’t help it.” She shrugs, making you laugh, even if it was only a half-hearted one. “Seriously, though. You two need to have an honest conversation with one another.”

You sigh, wiping the rest of your drying tears away with the tissue. “I think we both could use some space right now, though. I’m going to wait until Monday.”

Maria nods. “Monday. But you have to talk to him. You can’t chicken out. I know you, Y/N.”

“Sometimes a little too well…”

“All for the best.” She grins.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

After a long and lonely weekend, Monday finally comes and you make sure to wake up earlier than usual in order to make it to school in time for when Thomas comes out of his physical therapy session with his track trainer.

You haven’t called, texted, or seen each other since Friday night and the guilt and heaviness from what happened still weighs on your chest despite the reassuring words from Maria. 

Patiently and nervously, you wait outside the boys’ locker room like you have countless times before, only this time, things feel much different. The anticipation lingers in the air surrounding you and you feel the stress push at your shoulders until the door finally opens and Thomas walks out.

After over a year of dating, you still get butterflies at the sight of him even though he’s just wearing simple black jeans and a t-shirt.

As he shrugs on his jean jacket and backpack, he glances up through a few stray curls that fall down in front of his eyes. His eyes flicker to you as he walks in your direction before he rips them away quickly. 

“T, hey how was…?” You try to speak to him, but he just continues to walk past you.

You watch him as he goes on like nothing, completely disregarding your presence.

“You’re still mad…” You trail off, falling into step with him and his pace doesn’t falter.

He doesn’t say a word.

“Listen, I know you probably don’t wanna see me right now, but please hear me out.”

Still nothing.

You know he’s still upset; he only gets quiet when he has a lot on his mind or he’s going through something. Taking in a deep breath, you speed up so that you can get in front of him.

“Thomas, hey, stop.” You say, putting a hand on his chest. You know that if he really wants to charge past you he can, but instead he stays there, halted by your touch. He looks down at you, his face nearing yours, and your eyes plead with his. “Please.” You whisper, your fingers curling into his black shirt to hold him there (or maybe it’s more of a way to ground yourself).

Thomas’ detached gaze lingers on your face and as your eyes search his, you note just how devoid of energy he looks. 

“I just want to talk. I…” You watch him as he breaks your gaze to look at the ground. “I know I fucked up; I said some things I shouldn’t have. Just please let me make it up to you. I need you, T. I want to fix this while we still can.”

You sneak a glance around you to see that you’ve attracted some attention from your fellow classmates who are unapologetically staring. Do they know about you and Thomas’ fight? How could they possibly know? You two are hardly making a scene, but then again… people are vultures who will perk up at even the slightest bit of drama.

“Can we go somewhere private? Please? Just the two of us.”

Thomas licks his lips as he looks around, then back at you lazily. “Can this wait? We have class in six minutes, you know.”

“Let’s skip.” You say, causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. “This is more important than class today, okay? How about we go to that diner down the street?”

“It’s a little too early for a milkshake and fries, isn’t it?”

“They have eggs and waffles, too.” You say, your eyes pleading him to accept your offer. “Please? I know you love breakfast.”

He’s quiet for a few more minutes and you wait in anticipation for his answer. Just when you get your hopes down and think he’s going to reject you, he speaks up.

“Okay.” He responds finally. “But only because I really don’t want to watch boring presentations about the social cognitive theory in my Psych class…”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “That’s good enough for me, T.”

“Bribin’ me with breakfast. You know that shit’s my weakness…” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head. You’re not sure if he’d meant for you to hear that, but either way it makes a hint of a grin form on your lips.

“Come on, I’ll drive.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

When you get to the diner, it’s fairly empty except for an elderly couple at a booth and a man at the counter drinking a cup of coffee. The smell of eggs and bacon wafts through the air and enters your nostrils as you breathe in.

A waitress greets you when you two slide into a booth, sitting across from each other. She hands you both menus and gets your drink orders before she’s off.

Silence fills the air between you as you both look over your menus. Thomas doesn’t say anything and it feels weird, suddenly reminding you of why you’re here in the first place. While from an outside perspective it may look like a normal outing between you two, you can feel the lingering tension in the air that’s leftover from Friday night. Unspoken feelings and unresolved problems still remain. 

You sneak a glance at him over your menu only to find him already staring back at you. As soon as your eyes meet, he looks away.

“I feel really bad about Friday.” You finally break the silence, your voice small. Wanting nothing more than to let him know how you feel, you try to catch his gaze. When his brown eyes finally meet yours, you continue. “I hate the way we left things…”

“Me too.” He finally says softly. You two stare at each other for a few more seconds and Thomas opens his mouth to continue. “I…”

Then, the waitress comes back with a couple water cups and two black coffees, interrupting whatever it was that Thomas was about to say. You and Thomas direct your attention to her with fake smiles as she asks for your orders. 

After she takes your menus and leaves, you let out a sigh as you look down at your fidgeting hands.

“Listen, T…” You begin, regret and guilt evident in your voice. You make sure to look up and meet his gaze one more time before you continue. “I'm sorry for lying to you and your family — I should have told you the day I found out, but I was too afraid of losing what we have. And I'm sorry for fucking up your day when we were supposed to be celebrating instead.” 

You stop to take in a shaky deep breath, looking down at your hands once again. “I’m so sorry if I made it seem like I was doubting our relationship or… or if I made you feel like I didn’t… like you weren’t…” Struggling to find the right way to express how sorry you are, your tone gets more and more emotional as you stumble over your words.

Thomas saves you from your struggle, however, as his hand reaches across the table to cover yours, causing you to look up at him with surprise. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“What?” You voice breathlessly. “I… I thought you were still mad. It shouldn’t be that easy. Why are you…?”

He shrugs slowly. “Because you’re not entirely at fault… and as much as I want to stay angry, I can’t stand seein’ you in distress like this.”

You purse your lips and squeeze his hand in yours. “I’m still really sorry, T. I want you to know that. I said some things I regret and…”

“I know you are. Especially after seeing you try to fix things today by not takin’ no for an answer earlier. We both said some things we regret and it’s okay, Y/N. Really.” His voice is soft as he responds. “I’m sorry for yellin’ and not fully listenin’ to what you were sayin’. And for bein’ kind of a dick to you earlier when I ignored you. I was in denial. I just felt like you were givin’ up on us too quickly and I… I don’t wanna mess up what we have. I really don’t.”

Your eyes soften at his words. “I know. Me neither.”

You both are quiet for a few seconds as you both struggle to find a way to address the elephant in the room. 

Luckily, you both get interrupted by the waitress again who comes back with your orders. You let go of each other’s hand when your plates are placed in front of you. Your mouth waters at the sight of your food, and you thank your waitress before she leaves again, telling you to let her know if you need anything else.

A comfortable silence falls in the space between you and Thomas, and though you feel that the tension from Friday night has now dissipated, the stress of the upcoming conversation still sits on your shoulders.

Surprisingly, Thomas is the one who initiates it.

“So…” He starts after chasing a mouthful of pancakes with a sip of water. “I’m guessin’ you won’t be comin’ back to town on holiday breaks?”

You cringe at the bluntness of the question. “What made you assume that?”

He shrugs, chewing his food before swallowing. “Just the way you were so helpless with your options. Thinking back to it, I figure that you probably wouldn’t have jumped to the possibility of breaking up unless you’d already thought things through somewhat.”

Very observant of him.

You nod before letting out a small sigh. “Yeah. My family’s planning on moving to Miami once I move out. Apparently they’re tired of the cold weather and wanted to wait to move until I graduated high school. They let me know when I told them the news.”

“Erik, too?”

“He’s staying in Philly until he graduates next Spring.”

“Well, that sucks.” He says, picking at the leftovers on his plate.

“Yeah.” You reply softly. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore, Thomas. I thought the answer was clear, but now I’m not so sure.”

He sighs, putting his fork down before looking up at you. “I think I do.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you tilt your head in confusion.

Thom sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Well, for starters, you’re always right, let me just put that out there.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Well, for this instance, at least.” He says simply before he continues. “As much as I hate to say it, I don’t think we’ve got options here.”

“Yes we do, you said it yourself, T.”

“We don’t, Y/N, you were right. I didn’t wanna believe it before but now, I don’t think I have a choice.” He says, holding your gaze firmly. “The two of us going to the same school is out of the picture. Especially with application deadlines already being passed - I checked and I don’t know what I was thinking on Friday. And with us not going to be able to see each other even on holiday breaks… I don’t think that leaves anythin’ else on the table.”

“Thomas, really, you don’t have to do this. Don’t let me pressure you into something you don’t wanna do. Like you said, a relationship’s a two way street. We can work something out. I don’t know what, but we’ll try something else.”

“You’re not pressuring me, Y/N. What would that ‘something else’ be? Long distance? The chances of us visiting each other are slim, especially since I’ll be stuck at UVA for the majority of summer break for training camp. Especially since you’ll be in California and especially since you have no incentive to come back to town after you graduate.”

“You’re my incentive, T.”

He licks his lips and lets out a small laugh. “Baby, don’t fight me on this; you wanted this. Why the shift?”

“I don’t wanna lose you.” You say, voice quiet and close to tears.

Thomas reaches out across the table for your hand again. You lace your fingers with his and hold tightly. “I know. I don’t want to lose you either, but you were right, sweetheart. Seeing each other once a year isn’t good enough, let’s be real. I think we’d be hurting more than we'd be happy.”

You let out a long, deep sigh, squeezing his hand. He’s absolutely right and you knew this when you started this conversation on Friday — doesn’t mean that you don’t want to avoid it, though.

“We… we should…” He hesitates to continue the sentence. “We— God, why is this so hard?”

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to, T.”

He takes a deep breath before the words finally come out. “We should break up. This summer.”

It sounds foreign coming out of his mouth and his change in viewpoint surprises you still, even after talking it through with him.

“I don’t wanna be your shackle, Y/N.” He says, squeezing your hand comfortingly. “I want you to do great things without worryin’ about me. Just like you were sayin’ on Friday. And I don’t wanna risk getting to a point where we grow too distant we lose all hope.”

Your eyes tear up a little bit and you reach up to wipe at your eyes with your free hand.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you off easy, missy.” Thomas looks at you pointedly, his voice wavering slightly. He lets out a small bittersweet laugh before he continues. “I’m gonna consider this more of a ‘see you later’ than a ‘goodbye forever’ kinda thing. At some point, I don’t know or care when, we’ll continue where we left off. Mark my words.”

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. You’ve definitely heard those words before. “Have you been talking to Maria lately?”

He gives you a confused look. “No, not since we went on that double date with her and Ellie like two weeks ago, why?”

“She said a similar thing to me when I vented to her this weekend.”

“Really? Oh. I thought I was clever for that one.”

“You were.” You smile, rubbing small circles on the top of his hand.

A comfortable silence settles. The waitress comes back with the check and you give her your card against Thomas’ protests. It’s not long before she comes back and wishes that you both have a good rest of your day.

“This is gonna fucking suck.” Thomas suddenly says bluntly.

“Yeah, it is.” You sigh. “But you know what? We’re gonna make the most of the next three months. We’ll laugh together, we’ll cry together, we’ll enjoy the good times, and when the time comes… we won’t look back. Then, maybe one day, when I’m an engineer and you’re in the NFL… we’ll meet again.”

He sends you a watery smile, giving your hand a small squeeze. “I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart.”

You reciprocate his smile as a small silence stretches in between you two.

Thomas’ eyes fall onto his untouched (and probably now cold) coffee and with his free hand he reaches for the cream. You take that as a sign to let his hand go to let him tend to his glorified bean water, but as you try to withdraw your fingers from his, he just holds on tighter.

“Um, excuse me? What do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, glancing at you like you just committed a sin. 

“Don’t you need to pour creamer?” You raise an eyebrow, wondering what the big deal is. “I don’t want you to spill it.”

“Girl, I can pour creamer with one hand, thank you very much.” And there’s the Thomas you know and love, not that he was ever absent in the first place, but it’s good to see him messing around again. “Let me hold your hand in peace because God knows how many more times I’ll get to do it. I gotta savor it.”

“Stoppp.” You whine, drawing the word out. “This is how you’re gonna act until graduation, isn’t it?”

“You complainin’, sweetheart?” He fake pouts as he carefully pours the cream in his coffee and stirs with a spoon. “I thought you loved me.”

You roll your eyes. “You know I love your dramatic ass.”

“Mhm. In more ways than one.” Thomas hums before he takes a sip of his coffee. He cringes when he realizes it’s cold and you laugh at his reaction.

“Ready to go yet?” You ask, amused.

He nods. “We’re not going back to class, though, are we? Because if that’s the case, then no.”

“What? Hell no. Who do you think I am?” You say as you both mutually let go of each other’s hand to get up from the booth.

“A goody-two-shoes, that’s what you are. Really, baby, I didn’t expect you to mention skipping class. That’s like… blasphemy for you.”

You shrug as he holds the front door open for you. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

Thomas gives you a suggestive look and that causes you to smack his arm. “God, Thomas, not like that. Jesus.”

He lets out a full-bodied laugh as you approach your car and he grabs you by the waist as he leans back against the driver’s door. He presses a kiss to your forehead, hugging you close to him. “Just messin’.”

You roll your eyes before you pull back to look him up and down.

“When’d you get this jacket? Haven’t seen you in it before.” You muse, bringing your hands up to grab the denim on each side of his collar.

“A week ago? Maybe two? This is my first time wearing it, though.” He answers before he smirks. “Why? You like it?”

“Yeah, you look good in denim.”

“Do I, now?” He cocks his head slightly, amused as your face drifts closer.

“Mhm. The jacket really suits you.” You hum, releasing the material with one of your hands to slide it up to his jaw. You give him a soft kiss on his lips before you pull back. “Might look better on the floor, though. I don’t know. We’ll have to try and find out.”

Thomas’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise; he hadn’t expected you to turn the suggestive talk around on him. A smirk forms on his lips as he presses them to yours one more time.

“Your parents home?” He mumbles against you.

You pull away slightly to think about it for a second. “No, actually.”

“Well, then I guess we’re about to find out.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Over the next few months, you and Thomas keep the promise you gave to each other at the diner. You’ve stayed positive and lived in the moment and, to be honest, those three months have probably been the best three months of your life.

You and Thom are both making the most of your time, making sure to spend almost every weekend together. 

You study together even though you don’t share any classes. Most of the time is spent doing homework in silence, but you still enjoy each other’s presence.

For spring break, you go on a trip to the beach with Thomas, Maria, Ellie, James, Aaron, and a few more mutual friends. The week is full of banter and lots of fun-filled memories that you’ll remember for many years to come. It’s definitely one of the many highlights of senior year.

Thomas, being his over-the-top self, asks you to prom by spelling ‘Prom?’ out with bouquets of roses on your front lawn. And as if that isn’t enough, you wake to the sound of a live orchestral quartet playing your favorite song. You groggily walk over to your window to see where the sound is coming from and you’re met with the sight of your boyfriend grinning up at you with his arms gesturing around him proudly.

Of course you say yes. 

You would have said yes even if he had asked you casually — but what can you say… you’re a sucker for flowers and he knows it.

Prom night is an absolute blast. You feel like a stunner in your dress and Thomas looks unbelievably handsome in his fitted tux. You stay together the entire night, dancing, singing, laughing, and joking around with both your and his friends.

You almost lose track of the amount of date nights you have with Thomas. You have movie nights, some nights you go rollerskating, concerts, restaurants, hell, you even go paintballing together, which is something that neither of you had ever thought you’d get into.

But as June grows closer and closer, you can’t help but feel that heaviness settle back into your chest. You’d be lying if you said that you haven’t thought about backing out of this agreement the two of you have. In fact, you’ve spent countless nights lying wide awake (sometimes right next to Thomas), trying to figure out how things would go if you decide to stay together.

With your parents deciding to move down to Miami a week after you graduate, it pushes the day you move out to LA earlier than you had originally intended, which makes the idea of staying together seem next to impossible. Your mother says that it’ll be a good opportunity for you to get to know the LA area before classes start in August. 

This causes you and Thomas to have a more in-depth conversation about the plan and it ends with you two deciding to break it off a week before your big move. Both of you are in agreement that it would be best for the both of you, so that you have some time to recover. You figure it will be easier that way.

So, when the time comes to start packing your things for your move to California (and your parents’ move to Florida), you get stressed out. You notice that Thomas’ and your enthusiasm/positivity starts to fade as the date of graduation creeps closer and closer.

Which brings you to the present.

On the day of graduation, reality finally hits you. Because not only are you recognizing the fact that you’re leaving the love of your life in eight days to go to school in Cali, you’re also leaving Maria who has been a constant in your life since elementary school.

Maria plans to stay in town and go to community college to knock out all her general education classes before she transfers to a four-year university. Luckily, her girlfriend Ellie has the same idea, so they’ll be taking the same path after high school.

At least they will be together.

Unlike you and Thom, who are currently posing for a photo together for his and your parents who stand behind their phones grinning and teary eyed. You both give your best smiles to the cameras, trying to preserve the memory as best as possible without breaking.

Surprisingly, you and Thomas have stayed strong despite the impending suspension of your relationship that lingers in the atmosphere between you. Although teary eyed because you are saying goodbye to a lot of friends and faculty you’ve gotten to know over the years, you and Thomas don’t cry on graduation day. You don’t cry during the ceremony, you don’t cry during the many pictures you take that day, and you don’t cry at the large family dinner the Jefferson household holds for both you and Thomas.

You’ve both toughed it out both privately and in public. But graduation day eventually comes to its inevitable end, and the day after begins, marking your last day with Thomas Jefferson as your boyfriend.

The two of you make your last day special and have a day-long picnic in a nearby park. You wake up early and spend the entire day together, laughing, kissing, talking, and having as much fun as you can with the inevitable future looming over your heads. You both make the best of your time together, and that’s really all you can ask for.

As the day goes by, your time together begins to run out. And both of your composures begin to fade as each second passes.

While your curfew to be back home is 10pm, you and Thomas decide to hold onto each other a bit longer, so he drives you home and you sneak him into your room when your parents are too busy packing in the basement. They know that this is your last day with Thomas, so when you’re distracting them while Thomas makes his way up the stairs, you tell them that you’re going to sleep early. They comfort you for a few minutes but leave you to your own grief, knowing to respect your wish of ‘sleeping the night off.’

Little do they know, you and Thomas decide to have one more special night together. 

When you finally make your way up to your bedroom, Thomas is sitting on your bed, glancing at the half-empty boxes in the corner of your room that need to be filled. Half of your room is packed up, but you’ve put off packing lately to spend time with Thom before you physically can’t anymore.

You let out a sniffle and you don’t realize that you are on the verge of crying until you see Thomas begin to break, too.

“Come here.” He murmurs, standing up from your bed to pull you into a tight hug. 

You both cry into each other’s shoulders, fully letting yourselves go emotionally as you let out your pent up sadness. You’re getting each other’s clothing wet with tears, but neither of you care as you cling onto each other, not wanting to let go.

You don’t know how long you stay there or how long it takes until both of you calm down enough so that your tears fall silently.

“I told you this was gonna fucking suck.” Thomas mumbles against you, causing you to let out a laugh and sob at the same time.

You don’t respond, but after a few seconds, you pull away from his shoulder to look at him. Silence stretches between you before you whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you.” He echoes without hesitation before he leans his forehead against yours. You both bask in each other’s presence for a few more beats until Thomas speaks again, his words shaking. “Football won’t be the same without you, Y/N. I won’t be the same without you.”

“You played football for years before I became a part of your life. You’ll be fine, T.” You say quietly, though you are absolutely sure of your words. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek and wipe some of his tears away. “You’re gonna move on and be great and show people what you’re capable of.”

Silence stretches between the two of you before you take a step away from him as you remember something. Thomas frowns at your sudden withdrawal, but you explain yourself as you both wipe at your faces to dry them as best as each of you can.

“That reminds me…” You say, digging into one of the open boxes in the corner of your room until you feel a familiar piece of fabric. You pull out Thomas’ purple hoodie — the one he gave to you the night you officially became a couple. Damn, it feels so long ago now, but it hasn’t even been two years. “Here. You should probably take this back.”

He lets out a small laugh and takes the purple fabric from you to examine it. He seems lost in thought, but after a few moments, he shakes his head and hands it back to you. “Nah. Keep it.”

When you don’t take it, his hand reaches out to one of yours and he wraps your fingers around the fabric. You try to protest, but he continues.

“Don’t want you forgettin’ about me, now, do we?” He chuckles dryly.

“I won’t forget you, Thomas.” Your voice sounds so sure of your words that Thomas has no choice but to believe you.

He swallows and looks down for a second before he glances back into your eyes. “I know.”

“You’re gonna forget about me, though.”

Thomas shakes his head and his eyebrows scrunch together and he looks like he’s about to break again before he reaches out to pull you close.

“Never.” He mumbles into your hair before he pulls back. “Hey, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I will never forget you, Y/N Y/L/N. I couldn’t even if I tried.”

He brings his hands up to cup both sides of your face. His thumbs brush some fresh tears away before he continues to talk. “These eyes? Unforgettable. This beautiful face? Ingrained in my brain forever, sweetheart, I promise you that.” One of his thumbs lightly brushes over your lips. “Don’t even get me started on these lips. I’ll miss them for sure.”

Thomas pauses for a second before his beautiful brown eyes gaze into yours, letting you know that he truly means his next words. “I’m never going to forget any part of you, Y/N.”

You stay there, gazing at one another with nothing but pure love and admiration. Without breaking eye contact, you gingerly put Thomas’ hoodie (which is apparently yours now) back in the box you removed it from. You reach up to pull Thomas’ lips down to yours passionately. 

Thomas responds, instantly reciprocating the kiss with the same amount of emotion that you pour into it. He moves his hands from your cheeks to pull your body closer to him. Your hand digs into the material of his shirt and suddenly, you can’t get enough of each other. You both need more — to be closer — but neither of you rush anything. You take it slow and try to take in every little detail about each other.

As layer after layer of clothing comes off, you two savor the feeling of each other’s lips, bodies, and touch. Every soft moan, every sigh, every gasp, every kiss… each and every moment that you spend with each other is savored in one final heat-filled act of love.

Afterwards, you both lie in your bed under the blankets, Thomas’ arm around your naked body and your head on his bare chest. You cherish each other’s presence for one final time, basking in silence until Thomas finally breaks it, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You still sure about this, sweetheart?”

You are quiet for a few seconds before you answer, sotto voce. “Yeah, T.” You listen to his steady heartbeat as you bring your hand up to rest on his torso. “You?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

A few seconds pass and you subconsciously trace little circles on his abdomen with your thumb. Thomas’ arm tightens around your waist as he pulls your closer.

“I’m sorry things have to end this way.” He mumbles against you, his deep voice reverberating throughout his chest.

“Don’t be.” You murmur, exhausted from the emotional toll this day has taken on you. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world — unless there’s a way where it doesn’t end with you and Thomas going your separate ways.

You shake your head at yourself for thinking so negatively. You promised each other something back at that diner.

“It’s not the end, T.” You speak out loud, shifting so that your head rests on the pillow and you’re face to face with Thomas. “You said it yourself before and now it’s my turn to say it: this is a ‘see you later,’ alright? So I better fucking see you later, or else.”

He laughs (oh, you’re gonna miss that laugh) and his hand slides up the curve of your hip to pull himself closer to you. “Back at ya, princess.”

You both sniffle, but you know that your time together, for the time being, at least, has come to an end — especially as both of you begin to drift off no matter how hard you try to stay awake.

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” You whisper in Thomas’ warm embrace.

Thomas responds after he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to.” 

So neither of you do. 

And you both fall asleep, bodies entangled with one another, content to be in each other’s embrace one last time before you move away.

The next morning, Thomas wakes up before you do and he slowly untangles himself from you as he wills himself to stay strong. He dresses himself as quietly as he can before he presses one last kiss to your temple.

Then, he takes one last look at your sleeping form before he leaves, keeping his word to you and not giving either of you a chance to say your goodbyes.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

A week later, your heart beats frantically as you drop a box of things you plan on leaving behind against the wall outside of your room.

It’s minutes before you’re supposed to leave for the airport — you want to leave early in case something goes wrong and you get delayed. Sighing, you walk back into your empty room to check for any last things you may have missed packing into the many boxes that are already stashed into your parents’ car.

“Y/N?” You hear your brother call out from downstairs. “I think there’s someone waiting for you outside.”

Who could it be? You’ve already said your goodbyes to Maria earlier that day when she’d helped you finish packing.

Erik gives you a sad smile as you pass by and you give him a confused look.

“What? Who is it?” You ask, eyebrows raised. “You know we have to leave in a few, right?”

“You’ll see.” Erik says, causing you to sigh.

After determining that your final sweep (even though you’ve done it three times now) is done, you make your way past Erik and open the front door. When you make it onto your driveway, you’re shocked to see Thomas Jefferson standing there with a sheepish grin and his hands in his pockets, looking as handsome as ever.

“Thomas…” You trail off, surprised to see him after your last day together the week prior. “What are you doing here?”

Your boyfriend (well… ex now, technically) walks closer and takes his hands out of his pockets. You can see him fidgeting with his fingers as he speaks. “I uh…” He breathes out a nervous laugh before one of his hands reaches up to rub the back of his neck. 

You watch him from a few feet away as he struggles to get his words out.

“Well, I… as your… not-boyfriend wanted to say goodbye.” He says softly, shifting his eyes to the ground briefly before looking back up to gaze into yours. “I changed my mind. Leaving without saying goodbye just gutted me and made me feel like we had unfinished business. I had to see you one more time, Y/N. I-I’m sorry.” Thomas’ voice is unstable as he apologizes and you feel tears well up in your eyes as he continues. “I know this breaks our agreement and everything, but I couldn’t just let you leave before—”

You cut him off by stalking forward to wrap him into a crushing hug — a hug the two of you desperately need at the moment. Thomas doesn’t waste a second before his arms encircle your waist to hold you just as tightly to him.

Even though you had spent the entire day with each other just a week prior, the need to see each other — to feel each other — one last time has consumed you both. You agree that waking up to an empty bed without saying a proper goodbye (even though it’s what you had initially wanted) had crushed you, and it had caused you to be an emotional wreck to the following two days.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, sniffling before letting out a bittersweet laugh. “I just made this so much more fucking difficult for us.”

“It’s okay.” You reciprocate his laugh as tears stream down your face. “It’s so worth it, T.”

A few minutes pass by as you hold each other close.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I’m really gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, T.” You say quietly. “So much.”

You’ve lost track of time and your mother is the one to finally bring you and Thomas back to reality.

“Y/N, we gotta go, honey…” Your mom speaks as softly as possible from her position at the front door, and you can see the guilt on her face as she watches her daughter’s heart break. “You’re gonna be late for your flight.”

You turn back to Thomas and give him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. You gave me the best year and eight months I could ever ask for… so thank you.”

You look up at him for a second before you sob and crash into his chest. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.” He replies softly before he steels himself. “But you have a flight to catch. Which means you need to go.”

You give him one last kiss, it’s watery from both of your tears but neither of you care.

“Go be great.” He says when you pull back. “You deserve the world, Y/N.”

He holds your hand until the grip slips when you take a step towards the car.

“See you later, Thomas.”

He smiles through his tears before he replies. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

You get in the car and a few seconds later, your mother pulls out of the driveway (apparently Erik and your father are going to drive separately). As the car drives away, Thomas waves from your driveway until you can’t see him anymore. You know that’s the last you’ll see of him for a while.

And maybe, just maybe, you regret leaving him behind.

But a voice lingers in the back of your mind that gives you some sort of relief:

If it’s meant to be, then it’s meant to be.

[teamhappyme]

a series of promising events (1/5)

aaron hotchner x female! reader

word count: 7.9k :)

a/n: hello hello hello! this is my first hotch fic, and the first of three parts (edit: it’s actually 5 now lolol). it’s going to cover 8 (maybe 9?) events over the course of several years, so it needed to be broken up in the most rational way possible. this is my baby, and has been in the editing process with my lazy brain since september. please, please, please, let me know if the timeline or anything is confusing to you! i have a tendency to under explain things (as my profs will testify to), and i don’t want y’all to be confused. i hope whoever stumbles across this enjoys!

also, big shoutout to @winterscaptain, you are a gift to the world, tali. i am in love with the ajf universe, and that shit inspired me to polish this piece up for the tumblr verse to see. 

alright friends, here we go.

link to part 2: here

**** 

June 2005

You wouldn’t forget your first day in the BAU for as long as you lived. It was forever ingrained in your memory, the good, bad, and embarrassing moments all stored away. Stored away that is until Derek Morgan decided to dredge it back up as you passed your six month mark on the job. 

Derek, Prentiss, Reid and yourself were finishing up paperwork in the bullpen after an unusually slow friday. You were usually the first one done, earning a groan from the doctor across from your desk. They all envied your English degree and professional writing skills. 

“Hey bobo,” The nickname Derek had assigned to you was named after your alma mater, and extremely annoying. “Remember your first day, when I tricked you into doing Prentiss and my paperwork for almost two weeks?” You shook your head, not having to look at Morgan to be able to hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you think I could trick you again?”

7:47. Thirteen minutes earlier than you needed to be. Yet the room full of agents you were supposed to join was already filled. You liked these people already, they were punctual and functioned in the morning. 

You pushed one of the glass doors open with your ballet flat, juggling your box of office supplies while keeping your crossbody balanced on your shoulder. The sound of fingers pounding on keyboards, phones ringing on loop welcomed you into the BAU. Along with a shove to your back, causing you to lunge forward. You felt something cold run down your back, cursing yourself for wearing a white blouse.

“Are you alright?” You looked up to find a tall mop of brown hair and big brown eyes looking down at you. “Well, I’m a little damp.”

He nodded while looking at your box full of sticky notes and pens. “You must be y/n l/n. I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. We’ve been taking bets on what time you’d arrive. And you beat us all with your extreme punctuality.” You laughed. “Sorry to let you down. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” You extended your hand for him to shake, but he just stared at your extended limb.

“Yeah, he doesn’t do that sort of thing.” The new voice came into view, shaking your hand that was meant for Reid. He was tall like Spencer, but was lean with a smile on his face. Confident. “I’m Derek Morgan. When JJ told us the new recruit graduated with an english degree, I expected someone with tweed elbow patches and big round glasses.” 

“You’re an english major? Statistically speaking, only three percent of the agents that have been recruited for the BAU didn’t have any background in law enforcement or field experience.” This wasn’t the first time you’d been questioned at the FBI for being a liberal arts degree profiler. Your english degree and your fresh age of twenty five left many people to dismiss you through your time in the academy. But you got used to it. 

“Sorry to disappoint your stereotypical profile of an FBI agent,” You started, shifting your weight between your feet, now uncomfortable and a little embarrassed in front of your new co-workers. 

“Oh I didn’t mean it as an offense. I-” “He’s a genius, but he lacks some social cues. You’re the first girl he’s been around that’s his age in the workplace.” Morgan added and Reid elbowed his ribs. You covered the smile on your face as the two of them started to quietly bicker. 

“Let the poor woman go and settle in at least before you harass her.” A brunette woman in a black pant suit came walking toward you. She had a stern face while looking at the two men, but when she turned to you, her face softened into a smile. “Special Agent Emily Prentiss. You do not understand how happy I am to have another woman out in this bullpen.”

You laughed as she led you to the empty desk across from Dr. Reid’s. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Thanks.” You placed your box down before taking the place in. “I’m supposed to meet with SSA Hotchner,”

“Agent l/n,” All heads turned to the man descending the stairs into the bullpen. He was taller than the other two, and that was saying a lot since they practically towered over you. He had a clean boys haircut, paired with a suit and tie. No question that this was the unit chief you were to report to. “I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. Welcome to the BAU.” He shook your hand before looking at the others. “JJ’s ready to debrief in the conference room.”

And just like that, the three agents sprung into action, leading the way to the board room. “We can go over the particulars when we get back from Nebraska. You ready for your first case?”

His face didn’t change, no change of tone in his voice. He lived and breathed for the BAU. Until you noticed the wedding band on his left hand. It was always the first thing you looked for when you met someone new. It was shallow and patriarchal, you knew, but it was instinct. And it put you at ease knowing there was someone out there he was doing this for. Someone he didn’t have to hold this demeanor around. 

“Ready.”

“Funny. But if you have any other insults to give, direct them to the head of the english department at Bowdoin. Mention that you’re talking about y/n l/n, with the 4.0 GPA.”

Prentiss led a slow clap as Derek shook his head. 

“I think that’s what the kids are calling a ‘mic drop’.” Spencer added and you couldn’t help your laugh. “Alright kid, why don’t you get out of here before we inevitably find ourselves back.”

You turned off the lamp on your desk and grabbed your crossbody and backpack. “Have a good weekend guys. And Reid,” He looked up, and you laughed as he pushed his hair out of his face. “Please recite the old testament for these two if they mock me while I’m gone.” He gave you a mock salute as Prentiss flipped you off on your way to Hotch’s office. 

In the six months you’d been here, these three people you shared the bullpen with had quickly become the siblings you never had. Morgan acted as your annoying older brother, constantly picking on you and Reid. Not only were you the newbie, but you were now the youngest, only a year behind Spencer. Emily Prentiss on the other hand, was the protective older sister you always dreamed of. She was confident and held her own against the male dominated team, but knew when to be soft spoken and caring with victims and the team when needed.

And then there was Dr. Spencer Reid. The smartest person on the planet, in your book. Sure, he was a little socially awkward and didn’t know when to stop listing off all the stats he knew, but you understood. He was consistently the youngest and smartest person in every classroom he walked into. There weren’t many people that wanted to get to know him without bullying him or picking apart his eidetic memory. Despite the problematic first encounter you shared, the two of you stuck together considering your combined intellect and young age. He taught you the ins and outs of the BAU, and helped you get accustomed to D.C. Although, Spencer himself hadn’t really ventured out into the city in the four years he’s been here. So the two of you tried to see as many things as you could in the rare weekends that you weren’t working a case. You worked your way through a third of the smithsonian's, and saw the Declaration of Independence. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little emotional while looking at it. Spencer had called you a nerd, and you didn’t mind one bit. 

You walked up the steps to Hotch’s office, case reports in your hand from this week. The blinds were open, you could see him working through the stack of files on his desk. Despite the exhaustion written all over his face, his sport coat was still on, tie still impeccably tight around his neck. Even when he was in private he kept up the put together facade.

You knocked on the door, and heard a quiet ‘come in’ as you twisted the door knob. “L/n,” “I have my case reports from this week.” “Just place them on my desk.”

“How much longer are you here for?” He let out a sigh while closing the file in his hand. 

“Another hour or two.” You opened your mouth to respond, but he beat you to the punch. “And before you offer to stay and help me, I don’t need any help.”

“You just don’t want to listen to me singing Coldplay under my breath.” He huffed out a semblance of a laugh. A month into your bout here, Morgan had accosted you on the jet on the way home from Milwaukee. None of you had slept in three days, and you were currently enthralled in your new mp3 player and Coldplay's newest album ‘X&Y’. After the third song, a paper cup was thrown at the back of your head, followed by a ‘I’m trying to sleep, bobo’ from Derek. It was a habit of yours that you had yet to kick. 

“That’s part of the reason.” “I knew it.” He opened another file, and you took that as a cue to wrap up the conversation. You rummaged through your purse, looking for the blue envelope you sealed this morning. 

“Um, I also wanted to drop this off. It’s for Jack, you mentioned he was being Christened this weekend.” You placed the card on top of the pile of paperwork, your cursive handwriting on top. “I was going to get him a stuffed animal or some type of toy, but he’s only three months old and wouldn’t know the difference. This check may be the penny that helps you guys afford Harvard.”

A real laugh escaped his lips now, as he picked up the card. “Thank you, y/n. You didn’t have to do this.” You smiled. “I know, but I wanted to. He’s a cute kid.” 

He looked at the framed picture of Jack on his desk, then back up to you. No one else had mentioned the Christening after Hotch first brought it up. He was quiet, and only liked to talk about his family if he initiated the conversation. You could tell you were the only person who had reached out like this, with a simple gift. 

Hotch had been the hardest person to get to know in your time here. Despite Morgan saying there are no secrets kept among the team, you knew these people had their demons. And Hotch certainly had enough both professionally and personally. You didn’t want to push the professional boundaries, but you always wanted to be present in the lives of people that you shared time with. To let them know you were thinking of them, and cared for them. It was probably your most damaging personality trait.

“I’ll let you finish your work so you can get home at a reasonable hour. Tell Haley I said hi.” He nodded. “I will y/n. Have a nice weekend.”

****

December 2005

You pride yourself in the fact that you haven’t shot your weapon in the year you’ve spent with the BAU. It meant that you were successful at connecting to these people’s emotions, despite the asterisk next to their name labeling them as a serial killer or sadist. Guns were there to protect you, and they were always the last result. But as you pulled up to a log cabin in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, you had a feeling your record was going to be broken.

The team was working a case where six bodies, two adult males and four teenage males, were found mutilated, along with a cut from sternum to belly button. It was the first case you worked that had no female victims. A small victory, in your mind. But, it was also the first case you worked that the profile of the unsub fit a sixteen year old girl, who had most likely been assaulted as a young child. When children were involved, the team acted differently. They were failed by the people that were supposed to care for them, they were consistently hurt with no one to turn to. And as a result, they would spend the rest of their lives paying for it. 

You, Prentiss, and Hotch got out of the suburban, strapping the bullet proof vests onto your bodies. Thanks to Garcia, you had found the unsub’s location once she turned her cell phone back on. A cruiser pulled up behind you guys, two more cops falling out. 

“Prentiss, you take the two officers down with you to the exterior basement access. L/n and I will take the main floor.” Hotch ordered as he pulled his gun from his holster. 

You could feel the anxiety rising in your chest, but there was no time to calm it down. You barely had enough time to strap on your vest. 

“Ready?” Hotch looked at you before taking another step toward the cabin. You nodded, pulling your own gun from it’s holster. “Ready.”

You followed him up to the front porch, announcing yourselves before kicking the door in. You cleared the living room as Hotch cleared the dining room and bathroom, leaving you both to meet up in the kitchen. 

That was where you found her. You saw her first, hiding half of her face behind the rifle that she had pointed at you. She was trembling, dried tear streaks left on her cheeks. She was petrified. 

“Stephanie Moore?” Her grip on the gun tightened at the mention of her name as you heard Hotch’s footsteps get closer. “My name is Y/n L/n, I’m with the FBI. I don’t want to hurt you Stephanie, but I need you to put the gun down.”

Hotch joined you on your left, both of you directing your weapons toward the young girl. “I did what I had to do to survive. They took everything from me, every last shred of dignity I had. I wasn’t going to let them kill me.” You never thought it would be possible for your heart to break while listening to an unsub. But this tiny girl standing in front of you, with her whole life ahead of her, it just hit you too hard. 

“I know you did, Stephanie. You were so brave and so strong. Not many people could survive what you did.” She started to loosen her grip on the rifle, you were getting through to her. “I’m here to help you. I want to put an end to all of this.”

You glanced at Hotch and he gave the slightest nod, giving you the okay to take a step forward together. “I couldn’t let them get away with it.” Ever so slowly, the gun started to lower in her hands. 

“You’re doing great. Just a little lower and this will all be over.” Before she could completely lower her weapon, you heard the storm door to the basement slam shut. 

Stephanie jumped, raising her weapon back up in her hands.

“You said you were here to help me!” She exclaimed, the gun pointed at you as Hotch took another step forward. “I am Stephanie, but other members of my team are trying to help the boy you took.”

Fresh tears started to fall down her cheeks and you knew you were losing her. “Y/n,” 

He whispered to you and she moved the gun from your chest to Hotch’s. “Shutup!”

“Stephanie, hey, look at me,” She shook her head, continuing her stare at Hotch. “He’s in on it, he has to be!”

“He’s not! He’s my boss, trust me, Stephanie.” You heard the safety go off, and before her foot landed as she took her first step towards Hotch, you emptied two rounds into her chest. He rushed forward as she fell, kicking away her gun and checking her pulse. Nothing. 

You lowered your gun as your breathing increased, looking at the lifeless sixteen year old lying in front of you. A hand covered your mouth as you realized what you’d done. 

You killed her. 

You remembered what it felt like to be sixteen. Struggling to find your identity, wanting so desperately to be noticed by someone. For anyone to reach out and help you. 

But you took that away from her. You ended her life before it even began.

“Are you guys okay?” You heard Prentiss come up through the basement, but your eyes were closed as she entered the room. “We’re good. Y/n took the shot.”

Hotch stood up and dared a look at you, taking in your grief stricken state. “Did you find the boy?” 

“Yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

Before Emily could greet you, you ran to the corner of the room, heaving up whatever was inside your almost empty stomach. Your throat burned as you threw up for a second time, vaguely registering two people calling your name.

“You’re okay, y/n,” Prentiss approached you, gently resting a hand on your back. You coughed a few more times before a towel was being rushed to your side. “It’s okay.”

The whirring of more sirens forced you to open your eyes and straighten up from your sick position. Prentiss had eyes filled with concern, not letting go of you until you gave her a slight nod. She handed you a water before she exited the house, letting two uniforms in. They went straight to Hotch, asking questions and looking over the body before their eyes landed on you. You felt exposed, like you were the one lying lifeless on the ground for all to see. You took a few deep breaths to get your breathing under control, and tore your gaze away from Stephanie. 

Hotch finished his conversation with the officers before walking over to you. “Hey,” He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but flinch. “It was a clean shot, but protocol states they have to take your gun and badge as well as give a statement to IA.” You nodded, taking your badge from your pocket. “They’re gonna take you back to the station and do an interview. This should all be wrapped up in a few hours. We’ll meet you back there, alright?”

You glanced up at his big brown eyes, warm as they bore into yours instead of their usual slanted nature. “Okay.”

The two officers escorted you to their patrol car, taking your badge and gun before you got in. You felt naked without them, like you were a nobody wandering the streets looking for someone to help, or looking for someone to help you.

It was a good thirty minute ride to the station from the cabin, and when you got there a detective from IA was already waiting for you. They led you into an interrogation room where they already had Section Chief Strauss hooked up through video call. Great. 

The questions they asked were pretty straight forward, nothing that couldn’t be answered by a crime scene report from the technicians. But the government insisted on interviewing cops involved in shootings, just in case it wasn’t legal. As if anyone wanted to deal with the psychological repercussions of taking another’s life. 

It took them nearly an hour and a half to get through the interrogation. In part due to you almost throwing up a third time as Strauss asked you to repeat the moment you shot Stephanie. They gave you a few minutes to regroup, some ginger ale and crackers from the vending machine to help settle your stomach. They took your fingerprints last, letting Strauss finish up with the bureaucratic discussion.

“That’s all for now Agent L/n. We’ll debrief tomorrow morning when you’re back in Quantico.” “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

They led you out of the interrogation room and back through the lobby leaving you at the conference room your team had been set up in the last three days.

The white boards were still littered with images of the victims, crime scenes, and the unsub. Piles of evidence were scattered along the table, and you tried to resist looking through them again. You knew if you went through the images of the mutilated boys again, you wouldn’t survive the emotional turmoil. But you needed to know that you made the right choice, the only choice to prevent more families from going through the same pain and suffering as the Corbins. 

You turned to the white board, glancing at the first victim. Connor Corbin was fifteen years old, on the varsity soccer team, and involved in musical theatre. He was cousins with the teenager that abused Stephanie. She targeted all the men in her abusers life, letting them know what he did to her. Wanting them to understand the pain she’d had to endure because of their ignorance.

You looked through the rest of the victims, the abusers two younger brothers, father and uncle were among those killed. The boys were only twelve years old. You brought a hand up to cover your mouth, remembering meeting their mother on the first day you were here. JJ was the one to speak to her, as the communications liaison, most people trusted her with being the most empathetic. That fact was up for debate, in your opinion. She was a wreck, and JJ needed help comforting her from Morgan. But you understood, boy had you understood. Her whole family was killed. 

“Y/n,” You jumped, startled by the new voices in the room. Hotch, Spencer, and JJ had arrived back at the station. “Did they clear you?”

You nodded as Spencer walked over to you. “Yeah, Strauss just wants to debrief again tomorrow morning.” “Of course she does.”

Section Chief Erin Strauss is a hardass and not the biggest fan of the BAU. “Did they give you your piece back?” Your hand immediately flew to your left hip, void of your gun and holster. “No, I completely forgot about it.” You went to move toward the door, but Spencer laid a hand on your forearm. “It’s okay, I’ll get it.” He gave your arm a comforting squeeze before leaving the conference room. 

You spared a glance at Hotch as you started cracking your knuckles. “JJ, why don’t you call the airstrip, tell them to get the jet ready.” “Yes sir.”

In an effort to keep your mind busy, you started to take down the pictures from the white board, erasing all Reid’s notes in his barely legible handwriting. The boy had three PhD’s, yet couldn’t figure out the concept of penmanship. 

“Are you alright?” “Fine.” You pulled an empty manila folder out, stuffing Connor’s pictures in. “You don’t have to clean this up for them.” “I know.”

He sighed. “Y/n, stop.” His voice was stern now and you dropped the files. “I asked if you were alright.”

“Why wouldn’t I be alright, Hotch?” You crossed your arms over your chest, letting a breath out. “We found her, we saved her from hurting anyone else, and we brought closure to Mrs. Corbin. Case closed, the BAU gets to go home.”

Your eyes started to water but you refused to bring your hands up to wipe them away. You wouldn’t let them fall. “We’ve all been where you are right now.”

“I’m confident that you’ve never felt what I’m feeling before.”

“Try me.” He didn’t flinch, his hands remained in his pockets, stare heavy on your own. 

“When JJ presented this case to us, that two teenage boys and their fathers had been murdered, it was a no brainer for all of us to take it. Two twelve year old boys dead, two more teenagers missing, how could we not take it? But then we got here, and we met with the victims' families, we learned the boys' backgrounds, the unsub’s profile.” You scoffed, not sure who you were angered with at the moment. “This girl was raped by a seventeen year old boy and his father for two years, and we’re still supposed to treat her like a monster, like Tim Vogel?” You shook your head. “I’m not condoning what she did, but, can you blame her? And then we went in, and she had a gun raised at us. I would’ve been able to talk her down, I know I could’ve saved her if she didn’t have the gun.”

“But she had a gun.” You nodded. “She had a gun and it was raised at you. And I didn’t even flinch to take the shot. All it took was two seconds for me to forget her pain, her trauma, and reduce her to a sick serial killer.”

Even though that’s what Stephanie ultimately was, you didn’t want to accept it. Because she was a person before she went through all that pain, she was someone’s daughter, who was involved in gymnastics and softball, and had stuffed animals scattered across her bedroom. God, were you ever going to forget what she looked like?

“Feeling guilty about taking someone’s life is a good thing. It means your human, that you care.” Hotch freed his hands from his pockets, taking the file you packed out of your grip. “You’re not like them, y/n.”

You dared a glance at him as you felt more tears spring to the surface. Those big brown eyes could tell a story all on their own, and right now, they were pleading for you to believe him. You would try. 

“Got the goods.” Spencer came back in, your gun and credentials in hand. “They really had the audacity to I.D. me, as if we hadn’t just worked a case with them the last seventy two hours.” 

He got you to laugh, which served you enough cover to wipe your eyes dry. And out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw a rare smile cross Hotch’s face. 

But Aaron knew there was more to your guilt than just this little girl. He was the leader of this team, it was his job to know the people he was in charge of like the back of his hand in order to keep them safe. And in the year that you’d been here, he noticed how reserved you were. Too reserved and too broken for a twenty-six year old. How you took on the giver persona to hide the fact that you were terribly closed off to others and your emotions. You would be the first to offer help, to be a listening ear, or lend your shoulder to cry on. But you never accepted it from anyone. Not that you had to, until today. 

When Hotch started to notice you and Spencer growing closer at the three month mark, he was excited. Proud, even. He knew you were struggling with the gruesome cases (he knew you threw up after every crime scene, despite your best efforts with barf bags and travel size mouthwash) and hoped you could share your burdens with the young doctor. But it seemed like they only grew in time, like the smile on your face. Hotch just hoped you knew your limits.

“Gather whatever else you guys need for Quantico. Wheels up in thirty.” Reid nodded for both of you as Hotch left the conference room, presumably to find JJ. 

“Everything okay in here?” He asked as you continued to empty the white boards, this time at a faster pace. Of course he had noticed the red rim on your waterline and the red tip on your nose. Spencer could read you better than anyone else, regardless of being a profiler or not.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just talked through the case.” His feet stayed nailed to the ground, yet his eyes continued to stick to the back of your head. You sighed and stopped moving, turning to face him. “Spencer, I can feel you boring holes into the back of my head.”

He had a sheepish smile and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. We have copies of all this back at the office, I already faxed it over to Garcia. Why don’t we spend the next twenty eight minutes searching for a good burger before the flight home.”

You smiled. “Okay. As long as I can get a vanilla shake, too.”

****

May 2006

Growing up, you always wanted an office job. A boring nine to five with your own cubicle, a script to follow when your phone rang and a customer needed help. You’d have a generic wall calendar pinned on the particle board, sticky notes littering your monitor screen, and maybe a few pictures of pets and future family. It was safe, predictable, and what you were constantly told all you would be capable of.

Now, as you’re sitting on the FBI owned jet with your six special agent coworkers, you can’t imagine living that life you once dreamt of. 

It was nearing two a.m., and you were two hours into the flight home from Los Angeles. Reid was passed out on the couch, Prentiss and JJ in the same state of mind in the cluster of four chairs, legs spread out. Morgan and Rossi were sitting across from one another, each listening to their own playlists. And by the way Rossi was tapping his fingers against the arm rest, you knew it was some genre of opera. 

This left you in the back of the jet, staring out the window as you passed over Nebraska. You always had the map up on your screen, wanting to know every state you passed over. No matter the case, you always looked forward to the plane ride. It calmed you, oddly enough. 

“Not tired?” Hotch took the seat across from you, handing you one of the two cups of tea. “Plane rides are too exciting for me to catch any sleep.”

You took a sip of the hot drink and your face scrunched out of instinct. You never liked tea, but you tried it again and again when people assured you that it would calm you down. It never worked. 

“You could just say no,” He added and you smiled. “I know. But my taste buds may change one of these times.”

He took a sip out of his own cup, no change of expression on his face. You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips and his eyes narrowed on you. 

“What?” 

“Well, you may enjoy the taste, but it seems like it’s calming chamomile effect has never worked on you, either.” “We’re not supposed to profile each other.” 

“Then don’t even think about rattling off excuses of why I’m not sleeping.”

He looked down at his cup, slowly nodding his head. “Well if you don’t want to talk about what’s really bothering you, because I know it’s not sleep, I can bore you with Jack’s sleep routine we have to stick to.” You smiled. “You know that I’m the only one on this team that would actually be interested in Jack’s sleeping routine. Hell, anything with that chubby little baby would interest me. Bring it on, Hotch.”

It was no secret that Jack Hotchner was your favorite person on the planet. Not only was he the chubbiest little nugget you’d ever seen, he was the result of two of the strongest people you knew. 

The first time you met Haley, she was six months pregnant with Jack, begging Hotch to leave the office early for a date night. You made the afternoon walk up to his office, dropping off some files for him to sign when you first saw her.

“Come on, Aaron. This baby is going to be here before we know it, and who knows the next time we’ll have any alone time will be.”

Before he could respond, you knocked on the open door. Both of their heads snapped over to you, and a red blush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks. “Sorry to interrupt, sir. Just dropping off some reports for you to sign off on.”

You smiled at the petite blonde woman while placing the files on the desk. “It’s okay l/n. This is my wife, Haley Hotchner. Haley, this is Agent y/n l/n, she started about a month ago.” She smiled back at you, extending a hand to shake. 

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’ll leave the agent part out, it makes you sound like a robot.” She said and glared at her husband before placing her hand back on her growing belly. You laughed once you heard Hotch let out a breath, knowing he wasn’t offended with her joke. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The smile only grew on your face as you looked at her, admiring her own belly. “Congratulations on the baby. It’s always exciting to bring a baby into the world.”

“Thank you. If only my husband thought going out with me was half as exciting, he would’ve been gone a half an hour ago.” “Haley!” He was more than surprised that she would speak so cavalierly while at the office, especially around someone he had barely gotten a chance to know yet. But the two girls only shared a laugh.

“Hotch, why don’t you go. I can hold things down around here.” “Y/n, it’s not your responsibility to. And quite frankly-” You dropped a file to the desk, boldly interrupting your bosses statement. You were only acting like this because you knew his wife deserved half the attention he gave to this place. “It’s a friday night, and your beautiful, pregnant wife is asking you to go to dinner with her. JJ and I will be here if anything comes up, I’ll even redirect your calls to my desk.”

“I like you.” Haley said with a smile, gently squeezing your shoulder. “She means business.”

Hotch let out a sigh, reluctantly grabbing his briefcase and punching a few buttons on his phone to make sure his calls went to you. “You or JJ call me immediately if I’m needed.”

“Promise. Now go have fun.” He gave you the smallest smile as he grabbed Haley’s extended hand to him. “Thank you, y/n. I owe you one.” Haley said as they exited his office. But you weren’t looking for a favor in return. You did this to make them happy, and you always felt better when those that surrounded you were at their best.

But Haley did end up paying you back. She asked you to babysit the first night her and Hotch went out after the baby was born. Apparently, she was impressed with your background in social services that Rossi had drunkenly let slip at the office christmas party. And only you would get excited to babysit a poopy baby, for free. And you continued to do it as many times as they needed you to.

You earned a smile from the reserved unit chief, and raised a fist in the air. “I’ll have to add that to the team tally sheet. I’m now tied with Reid for the lead in making you crack a human expression.” “Doesn’t matter who’s in the lead, you’re all behind Jack.” He quipped back and you returned his smile.

You looked back out the window of the jet, the view of any terrain was quite literally clouded. You could see the moon reflecting on the puffy clouds, and you knew then and there you could be converted to a night person if you could look at this view every night.

“I wanted to check in with you, about Randall Garner.” You looked back to your boss, eyes glued to your own, an earnest gaze in them. “With what happened last time-”

“Last time it was a sixteen year old girl. This time it was a psychotic father who was torturing his child. There’s a broad spectrum.”

“So you don’t feel guilty about taking his life?” The way your stomach flipped at the mention of your actions merely hours ago should have worried you more than it did. 

“Of course I feel guilty.” You quipped back, and quickly looked around to make sure you didn’t disturb anyone else. Hotch didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t take this job to play God. I wanted to help people, I wanted to stop people from getting hurt. To be on the other side of the heartbreak.”

Before transferring to Quantico, you worked as a social worker in Brooklyn for three years, straight out of college. You saw first hand the horrors and trauma that came with being in the foster system, and you wanted to help children going through the same situation you had. 

This became your life, even after you escaped it. And one day, it became too much. You needed a fresh start, to make a change and help people from a different platform. And with your degree in English, and minor in psychology, the BAU seemed to be a perfect fit for a new career. 

“Why did you leave DCFS?” It irked you to no end how his voice stayed so calm when he was clearly agitated. Especially since the silky smooth tone had talked you off an emotional ledge one too many times.

“Why are you interrogating me? Strauss said it was a clean shot, that she was proud to have a man like that dead and accounted for.” A direct quote from the ever emotionless section chief. If only she had any field experience, she would understand what this job was like. “Besides, I’ve been here for a year and half. You should have my file memorized by now.”

“Half of your file is sealed. Strauss must have a soft spot for you.” You actually laughed at that. Strauss most certainly did not have a soft spot for you. She was however under orders from the Attorney General of New York to keep my file sealed, no matter my employer. 

“My sealed file has nothing to do with the actions I took tonight.” You uncrossed your legs now and turned your body to face him. This conversation wasn’t ending any time soon. “If I needed help grieving this process, I would ask for it, Hotch. I’m fine.”

He wanted to believe you. More than anything else, he wanted to believe that you had found a routine that helped you forget the daily horrors you saw. But he knew that you were the last to leave the office every night, he knew you drove home with the light on in the backseat of your car every night. Deep down, he knew you weren’t fine. 

“We don’t ever truly know the people we work with. Despite the fact that we say there are no secrets in this unit, we all have our own demons we hold onto. I know you’re not fine, y/n.” You let out a strained laugh as you started tapping your foot anxiously against the ground. 

“I do though.” For the first time tonight, Hotch had no idea what you were talking about. His furrowed brow only made your throat tighten. “I know every single one of these people’s secrets. They confide in me because they know about my past with DCFS. Everything I knew was confidential, and it ate me up inside not being able to tell anybody the horrors these children go through.” You ran a hand through your hair; the flood gates were open. You feared there would be no turning back now. “It started out as me just wanting to get to know them. I wanted to be liked, and I wanted to trust my coworkers. And then overnight, I became Father l/n, sworn to secrecy by the Parish of the FBI. I’ve become a suggestion box, papers filling me up to the top and no one is coming to empty me out. 

“But I can’t even be mad at them,” I said as my eyes started to water, remembering what Spencer said to me two months into our friendship. “Spencer told me I’m the only person that’s ever listened to his problems without suggesting that he see someone to talk to. He said I was the only person that’s ever laughed at his stuffy jokes without making fun of him. I can’t be mad at them for confiding in me in their time of need. But I’m just,” You tried to smile as a tear rolled down your cheek. “I’m just really overflowing.”

Aaron Hotchner was lucky enough to have never experienced a heartbreak in his life. He met Haley his junior year of high school, she was his first and only girlfriend, hurling him into a life of love and happiness, sparing him any pain from loving someone too much. But as he watched you break in front of him, feeling so overwhelmed by the responsibility to be everyone’s rock, to be everyone’s source of light, he experienced his first heartbreak. And he was sure he never wanted to feel it again.

“So confide in me.” You didn’t think his tone could become any softer. His baritone voice had already been strained to keep from waking the others, and he somehow became even softer. But you shook your head, quickly bringing your hands up to wipe the tears that fell down your face. “Why not?”

“Because you’re the boss. You have all of us to worry about when we’re in the field. You have Strauss breathing down your neck, waiting for one of us to screw up.” He rested his elbows on his knees, slightly leaning toward you. “Most importantly, you have Haley and Jack that need you to be their confidante. That beautiful family needs you to be there when you’re not here.”

“Y/n, if you can’t come talk to me when you’re drowning in your own thoughts, I’ve failed you as a boss.” He sighed at your continued silence. “I can’t force you to open up. But I can’t watch you give and give and give without earning a reprieve of your own.”

So the two of you sat there, in a deafening silence, as you counted the seconds passing by. You were both too stubborn to pull away first, because that would be admitting defeat, and this conversation would end then and there. You counted to one hundred and eighty seconds, three minutes, when you finally got tired of staring into the endless brown eyes of Aaron Hotchner. 

You thought carefully about what you were going to say, what you would reveal in the magic that covered the two a.m. air. And no matter how hard you tried to in those one hundred and eighty seconds, you could not keep your eyes from watering.

“I grew up in foster care.” You started, scanning his face for any judgements. You weren’t going to find any. “The last, and most permanent foster parents I had were horrible. It was basic shit that happened to every kid in foster care, nothing scandalous enough to get them to be turned in. But their birth son,” You swallowed, trying to resist the urge to pick your fingernails. “He moved back in with them when I was fifteen. He was a loser, and he started to take a share of the subsidy checks. I heard him in the living room one night with Charlotte, one of the younger girls that lived there. She was only twelve, and I found him pinning her to the couch, a knife to her throat. And I just snapped. I lunged at him, knocking him off of her. It’s all blurry now, except for when I stabbed him in the throat.” My hand scratched at the side of my neck, subconsciously finding the spot I stabbed him. “He died before the ambulance got there. Charlotte and I both gave statements, and it was ruled as self defense. But the statement still lives in my file, and with some convincing, I got Strauss and DCFS to keep it sealed.”

In all honesty, Hotch didn’t know what to expect when you decided to open your mouth. But he never would’ve guessed this. Not from the doe eyed kid that never forgot a birthday, that got everyone a donut and coffee on Monday mornings. Not from the kindest person he worked with. 

“You know that took a lot of courage to get out, so it would be nice if you could say something.” You started to panic, wondering if he saw you as a monster, as a killer.

“You were the oldest one there, weren’t you?” Your eyes widened, how did he know that? “You grew up quick and took on the role of the parent for those younger kids. You wanted them to be safe, stay innocent for as long as they could.”

You finally tore yourself away from his gaze, starting to become too strong. Baby steps. 

“None of us had a family. I tried my hardest to shelter them from those people and make a family out of the five of us. And it worked. Because all four of them still reach out and tell me how successful they are.”

“But they don’t feel like your family.” You had a sad smile and looked back up at him. 

“Do you ever stop profiling?” He mirrored the smile you gave him. “No, they don’t. But I was old enough to understand that they needed each other more than I needed them. Besides, I found a pretty weird family to take me in.”

You earned another laugh from Hotch as you made a check mark in the air, referencing the team tally. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, searching through the cash and cards he had in there. 

“What are you doing?” He pulled out a thin wallet picture and turned it over to you. It was of him, Haley, and Jack on his first birthday. “You’ve got more than one weird family to belong to.”

He extended the picture to you, but you shook your head, the anxiety forming a pit in your stomach. “Hotch, this is your family. I can’t,”

“You can. And this family wouldn’t be half as happy as they are in this picture if it weren’t for you and everyone on this team.” You smiled down at the picture, Jack had frosting from his birthday cake all over his face. You reached out and took it between your fingers. “You’re a giver, y/n. You wear your heart on your sleeve and exude more empathy than we know what to do with.” You let out a laugh as you pulled out your own wallet now, tucking the picture in one of the plastic sleeves. “It’s time you learned how to accept the love you give.”

It was deep, too deep to be coming from your boss on the private jet at two in the morning. But he was more than just your boss, and they were more than just your team. And this job, boy this job was so much better than sitting in a cubicle, answering questions from a recited list.

****

[noona-clock]

Him

Genre: College!AU, Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jinyoung x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 1,685

“And that’s all I got for you today, folks,” your professor announced before closing his laptop and ending the slideshow presentation. “Class dismissed.”

A low buzz of activity suddenly filled the lecture hall as your fellow classmates began to pack up their bags and then make their way to the door. Once you slipped your laptop into your backpack, you followed them, sidling down your row of seats and loping down the stairs.

Before you reached the door, though, your professor called out your name. “One second,” he said.

Your brow furrowed slightly, and you gripped one strap of your backpack as you turned toward him. “Yes, sir?”

“Are you still interested in a TA position?”

The wrinkle in your forehead suddenly smoothed out as your eyebrows rose. “Oh -- yes. Yes, absolutely.”

Last week, you’d asked your professor if he would need a teaching assistant for this class next semester. Unfortunately, he’d said ‘no’ at the time, but maybe now he’d changed his mind! 

Your parents’ business had run into some financial trouble recently, so you would have to pay your own way through school from now on -- but it was way too late to apply for a scholarship this year, which meant you had to find a job. And fast.

Obviously, you would work retail or in one of the campus food halls if you had to, but a TA position was perfect for you and your organizational skills -- especially for a professor in the literature department.

“A colleague of mine was talking about needing one, so I thought I would tip you off,” he continued, and while it was little disappointing he didn’t need one himself, you couldn’t afford to be picky right now!

...You actually couldn’t afford anything.

“Thank you so much,” you replied, shooting him a hopeful grin. “That would be perfect.”

Your professor reached for a sheet of paper on the lecture stand and handed it to you. “It’s Professor Stewart, he teaches Medieval Literature.”

Well. Your major was British Literature, but hey. Britain was around in Medieval times, so you could totally follow along with the curriculum.

Hopefully.

You took the application from him, and he gave you Professor Stewart’s office room number before you thanked him again and headed out the door.

You decided to fill it out now so you wouldn’t get caught up in your studies and forget, so after exiting the lecture hall, you made a beeline to one of the study rooms in the literature building.

After scratching down your information and answering all of the questions in your favorite green ink pen, you hurried out of the study room and made your way to the offices on the second floor.

You searched the small numbers on the side of each door, looking for the one your professor had given you not even fifteen minutes ago. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw another figure coming down the hallway from the opposite end, walking toward you, so you stepped over just a bit to the side so he -- or she -- could get past you.

But when you found the office number you were looking for and stopped walking... so did the other person.

You shifted your gaze to look at this other person, quickly realizing it was a him.

And... a very handsome him.

“Excuse me,” he murmured, and you once again stepped to the side so he could get past you.

But he stepped to the side at the same time, like he was allowing you to get by.

“Sorry,” you chuckled awkwardly, now taking a step to the other side.

...But he did the exact same thing.

“I -- I’m trying to get to this office, actually,” you explained, your lips curved into a very clumsy grin.

“Oh,” the guy replied as his brow furrowed. “...So am I.”

And it was then you noticed he had a piece of paper in his hand just like you did.

“Are --” you gulped. “Are you applying for the --”

“TA position for Professor Stewart,” he finished. “Yes.”

You shifted your weight slightly and let out another awkward chuckle. “Me -- me too. I really need a job, and who wants to wash dishes in the dining hall, right?”

You weren’t sure why, but you anticipated the same sort of reaction from him. He would let out a nervous laugh, smile a bit anxiously, and wish you luck.

Instead, you got raised eyebrows. You got a very serious expression. 

And you got, “I have the highest GPA in the department, and I’ve taken two of Professor Stewart’s classes before. You should probably just recycle that, if I’m being honest.”

It took everything in you not to jerk your head back with surprise.

But you did knit your brows together and say, “Excuse me?” in a very annoyed and confused tone.

“I’m going to get the job.”

You just kind of... stared at him for a few moments before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “What makes you so sure? My professor seems to think --”

“I already said,” he interrupted. “I have the highest GPA in the department. Professor Stewart knows me. He knows how impeccable my work is, there’s no reason why he wouldn’t accept me.”

“My work is impeccable, too!” you scoffed.

“Trust me. As soon as he sees my name on the application --” The guy turned his piece of paper around and tapped on his name.

Park Jinyoung.

“He won’t have to even look at yours.”

“Okay, getting hired simply because the boss knows you is called ‘nepotism.’ You know that, right?” you reminded him, trying your absolute best not to sneer at him.

One corner of Jinyoung’s mouth quirked, and he murmured, “Well, at least your vocabulary skills aren’t lacking.”

All right -- it was time to ask a question you should’ve asked about two minutes ago. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

Jinyoung immediately shook his head.

You narrowed your eyes in confusion, your forehead even more wrinkled than it had been just a few moments ago. “Do you always treat people you’ve just met like this?”

I mean! The guy was being incredibly arrogant and had just insulted you! ‘Well, at least your vocabulary skills aren’t lacking.’ Who says that without even knowing someone’s name?!

Jinyoung looked at you as if you were just a little bit crazy before he let out a soft chuckle and answered you. “No, of course not.”

“Ah, so I’m just that lucky,” you retorted, barely holding yourself back from rolling your eyes.

“Not it when it comes to getting this TA position.”

You actually laughed at that. You had to! Because the nerve of him! It was so ridiculous that you had to laugh -- otherwise, you probably would have punched him. And there was a good chance Professor Stewart would have found out about it which would have definitely hurt your chances of getting the position.

“I guess we’ll leave that up to Professor Stewart,” you countered with pursed lips. You reached over to open up the mail slot in Professor Stewart’s office door and slid your application through.

If Jinyoung had been a normal person -- meaning polite and not a total asshole -- you would have held the thin, metal flap open for him so he could slide his application in, too.

But he wasn’t a normal person. He wasn’t polite. He was a total asshole.

So, you didn’t hold it open for him.

You let it close with a fairly loud clang, turned on your heel, and strode away from him with your head held as high it could possibly be.

It wasn’t until you stepped outside of the literature building that you let out an extremely frustrated groan. Honestly, you felt like clenching your fists and stomping your feet, too -- but you would hold off on giving into those urges until you got back to your apartment.

Seriously, though! You had never in your life met someone so irritating and arrogant and annoying and handsome and aggravating and presumptuous as that guy! That -- that Park Jinyoung.

Ugh!

Hopefully -- if there was some higher being out there in the universe -- you would never run into him again. You hadn’t run into him before today, so it stood to reason that the odds of seeing him after today were pretty slim.

As you marched toward the nearest bus stop on your apartment complex’s route, you realized -- he hadn’t even asked you what your name was. You hadn’t given it to him, and even if he had asked, you probably wouldn’t have answered.

The fact he didn’t know your name was a pretty good sign that he probably wasn’t fuming about you as you were about him. So, you would let yourself be bothered on the bus ride home, and then you would stop.

You would stop thinking about his arrogance. His stupid little smirk. His dumb face. My word, did he have a dumb face. Just thinking about it made you even more angry than you already were.

But what put the icing on your angry cake?

His dumb face was just so perfect. 

How sad that his extremely good looks -- and I mean extremely -- were wasted on someone with that personality!

Okay, you should probably just stop thinking about him now. The bus ride was far too long to let your thoughts go on like this. The bus wasn’t even here yet.

So, you took off your backpack and plopped down onto the bench with a sigh.

That was it. No more thinking about -- no, you wouldn’t even think his name. No more thinking about him. Instead, you would think about an email to draft and send to Professor Stewart once you got home. That was definitely more worth your time than... him.

In fact, by tomorrow, you were pretty sure you would forget all about him!

Yep.

Totally!

He would be 100% completely and utterly and positively forgotten.

Part 2

[aoifeanamadan]

After School Special

Fandom: Minecraft YouTube rpf (mcyt)

Word count: 4386

Relationship: DreamNotFound (DreamxGeorgeNotFound)

Summary:

The sky is blue, the sun is hot and Dream hates George.

Everyone knew Dream hated him, really hated him, all smug and sarcastic and closed off. Where Dream was friendly, loud and outgoing, George was quiet and pretentious. It was like he thought he was above everyone else.

Needless to say, neither of them were over the moon when they found out they had to spend two months working together in weekend detention.

Support this work on AO3 :)

Chapter Two: Montague versus Capulet

Change is hard. It’s a universal truth. But for Dream, change was foreign. It just didn’t happen. He did the same thing every day. Get up, sunrise, shower, breakfast, get in Sapnap’s truck. The days were all the same, they pushed into each other.

It was as if his life was made up of concrete blocks, one for every day. He was stacking them, and the more weight he added, the less space between the blocks. They were pressed so closely together, the weight of a lifetime keeping them tight, there was no room for opportunities to worm themselves in.

That wasn’t to say it was bad. He liked his life. It was fine. He had friends, hobbies, he did great in school. He was captain of the state champion soccer team. Girls liked him. It was all perfectly fine.

His new weekend arrangements threw a spanner into his routine. Instead of watching Netflix from his couch in his pyjamas, he was sitting at the breakfast table across from his dad. His father’s attempted conversation was a sorry replacement for Netflix’s D-List cartoons.

His dad was him lecturing about something, but it was as if Dream had cotton in his ears. His father’s throwaway words about consequence and responsibility were muted. He was saying something about the image Dream had to project as soccer captain when a ding came from Dream’s phone. It was Sapnap.

Sapnap  

(9:37 am) hey im outside lets go

Once Dream read the text he was on his feet, toast in his mouth and jacket in his hand, rushing muffled goodbyes to his father. He heard the vague well wishes as he left.

Sapnap was a good friend, but one of his best traits was knowing when to be the enemy. The second Dream got in the car, he was complaining. About his dad, George, these stupid weekend classes. His lamenting was cut short. Before he could fully develop any of his woes, Sapnap was interrupting.

“Dream shut up,” he whined. It caught Dream off guard, stopping him in the middle of his first anti-George rant of the day. He looked at Sapnap, wounded. Sapnap just rolled his eyes. Dream gave up on the hurt puppy charade. He had only been on the first part of the speech, George’s entitlement. He didn’t even get to parts two, three or four (George’s pretentiousness, George’s fakeness and George’s sense of superiority, respectively). Each part was ten minutes long.

“Dude?” He didn’t like the distant hurt that he could hear in his voice. Sapnap softened.

“Sorry, it’s just like, this is your fault Dream.” This was not how Dream had expected the drive to hell to go. “You started the fight, and it’s not like George wants to do this either.” He knew Sapnap might have been right, but  Dream soured at the thought of Sapnap and George’s friendship. Them discussing how Dream had ruined his weekend plans for the next two months, George trying to steal his best friend.

He pushed down the feeling of betrayal, it wasn’t fair to Sapnap. He could reserve that feeling exclusively for George.

“Yeah, maybe.” Dream hummed, noncommittal. He glanced out the window, the school was in sight. It was towering over him, looming and gothic. Dream was suddenly overcome, every part of him was saying don’t go in. He pushed the thoughts down and refocused on Sapnap.

“You might even enjoy it, George is really funny!” Dream could tell he was trying to spin this into a positive, but the thought of having to spend two hours a week with George for two months made him feel hopeless. He imagined it, the hours he’d have to listen to George try to boss him around, trying to make him feel stupid. George would try to one-up him every chance he got, that was just who he was. He could never just let Dream win.

Before Dream could reply, the car was parked. He looked at Sapnap, who didn’t seem quite as sombre as Dream did. To Dream, it felt like a solemn occasion. To Sapnap, it felt like dropping his friend off while he was on his way to do the weekly food shop.

“I don’t want to go in.”

Sapnap, ever sensitive, just laughed. He shoved Dream’s shoulders towards the door in a gentle but firm attempt to get him out of the car.

“Go on Dream, I have to get shit for dinner.”

Dream was walking and into the school before he had the chance to talk himself out of it. He wasn’t worried about the work. How hard could it be to recite some Shakespeare, or whatever it was they did in weekend English. He was worried about who he’d have to work with. He didn’t know anyone taking the class other than George.

When he entered the classroom, he was sure he was in the wrong room. At first, he thought there was no one in there. That was before he noticed the woman in the corner, facing the walls. Dream felt like he was interrupting something. He knocked on the door, which was already open. It was more of a polite way to say ‘Excuse me miss, you’re not possessed, right?’. She whipped around at the sound of Dream’s knuckled on the heavy wood. He was fairly sure she was not possessed.

As she stepped quickly towards him, he noticed her jumper. Plastered across the front there was the face of a multi-coloured pug. Her hair was wild around her, swamping her face, and her glasses made her eyes look like orbs too big for her face.

“Hello dear, sit down please, sit down. Welcome! You must be George?”

Dream rushed to correct her, rather than be mistaken for George of all people, but she had already moved on.

“I am Ms Dahlman, so so happy to have you here in English. What an opportunity! God, you’re so lucky. In my youth, we didn’t have these weekend class options. God, so lucky you all are. I am just so happy to have you here!” She was talking a mile a minute. Dream felt paralysed under her gaze, waiting for her to take a breath so he could interject.

She continued for four minutes, telling him how lucky he was to have this opportunity. He didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t his choice. He did however want to clear up that he was definitely not George.

Before he got his chance, there was another knock at the door. George’s voice came from the doorway, slow and soft. It was a stark contrast to Ms Dahlman.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find the room. I’ve never had weekend classes before.” George was standing, messy-haired and disinterested. Dream thought he looked arrogant. It was just like George to be late, he had no regard for other people’s time. Something shameful in Dream couldn’t wait to tell Sapnap, to prove he was ten times the friend George could be. But he wasn’t sure if good punctuality was quite enough to convince him.

“It’s fine, just come in.” Ms Dahlman sounded pained at the interruption, but she soldiered through. “You can sit down here next to George.”

George, the real George, quirked his eyebrow.

“That’s funny, my name is George too.” Dream wanted to wipe his smug smirk right off his face. Ms Dahlman however, seemed overjoyed with the development.

“Oh! Two George’s! Heavens above, who would’ve ever thought? I knew your name couldn’t be Dream, but that was all it said on the attendance form they gave me! I said to them, I said ‘Dream? Well that can’t be a real name, can it?’ but they told me it was the preferred name, so it was what I was to use. George is much more sensible.” Dream felt his cheeks burning, but he didn’t want to get aggressive. He tried to push the feelings down.

Looking at George, who seemed barely able to contain his laughter, made that a lot harder. Dream nodded at Ms Dahlman, to be polite, but she didn’t notice. She just continued speaking, something Dream was starting to note as a consistent course of action for her.

“As I was saying, the grade you get in this class will be added to your overall GPA for the subject. Normally, it’s used to bring up the average but obviously,” she gestured to the empty class “people just don’t care about English the way they used to.”

Only then did it strike Dream, him and George were the only two taking the class. Unless someone was running 8 minutes late for the first class, no one else was coming. Dream wanted to sink into his chair and never get up again.

Before he could figure out how to melt himself down, Ms Dahlman was explaining their first assignment.

“Now, for the first two months boys you will be writing a speech!” She paused, for dramatic effect. It didn’t work. Dream and George were looking at her with the same badly disguised disinterest. She continued, consistent as ever. “Now I heard about your, how to put this, communicational issues .” She grimaced at the mention of Dream and George’s earlier conflict.  “So!” She punctuated herself with a short clap. “The speech will be titled ‘What my partner has taught me.’ It’s going to be a great opportunity for you two to learn how to cooperate!”

Dream did not want the opportunity to cooperate with George. He was stuck up, rude, inconsiderate. He acted as if he was better than everyone else, scoffing and looking down at them. Dream had plenty of friends, he didn’t want or need George.

Ms Dahlman, unsurprisingly, was not finished speaking. And so she continued, taking Dream out of his pessimistic thoughts.

“Now, I can see no reason to keep you here.” Dream and George looked at each other instinctually, then up at her smiling face, waiting for an explanation. “I’ll be giving you sheets that I’ll need to be signed by your parents to prove every week that you’re putting the time in together, as well as a guide to writing the speech. But, really boys, I can’t imagine why you would have to stay in the school.”

Ms Dahlman seemed to be about fifty, possibly older. Dream had no idea how she had navigated the world so far. It seemed she never even paused her monologues to breathe.

She gave the sheets to both Dream and George, and then she just left. She walked out the door and into her car without a glance back. The boys were left stunned in her wake.

Dream looked at George. George looked at Dream. Neither said anything, neither knew what to say.

Before Dream could start the inevitable conversation, George had taken out his phone. Self-obsessed as ever. Dream commented, emboldened by his evident social superiority,

“Well, that’s a bit rude-” Before he could finish, George had interrupted.

“Can you drive?” George hadn’t even spared him a glance. So rude . Dream couldn’t say he was surprised. Dream rolled his eyes. George didn’t seem to notice.

“No. What does that have to do with anything?” Dream didn’t try to stop the animosity from seeping into his voice. George didn’t seem to notice.

“Well I can’t drive either, I got the bus here. And we can’t just stay in here, it smells bad.” Dream didn’t want to admit it, but George was right. It did smell bad.

Dream started to speak. At the same time, George looked up from his phone. They both spoke at the same time, the same idea.

“I’m texting Sapnap.”

“Maybe Sapnap can-”

Dream laughed nervously. George didn’t laugh back. Sapnap was collecting them within ten minutes, a bag of shopping in the back.

Before long, they were sitting together on Sapnap’s couch, alone. Sapnap had left the room to make some food for them. Dream would’ve been happy to sit in silence until Sapnap came back with the snacks, but George wasn’t on the same wavelength.

“So, um, how are you?” George’s voice trailed off as he spoke. It felt like he wanted to be there even less than Dream.

“Good. Fine.” Dream was curt. He hadn’t expected George to make conversation, and he wasn’t going to try and encourage it. George could go back to texting on his phone forever for all Dream cared.

“Good.” George was returning his energy. His friendly conversationalist charade hadn’t lasted very long. Dream tried to settle back into the silence between them.

It didn’t stay like that for long. By the time Sapnap was back, he was entering to hear George yelling.

“Seven billion people in the world and I get stuck doing this with you! Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house.” He was standing on one side of the couch, Dream on the other. Anytime Dream moved, George moved the opposite way.

“Fuck you, George!”

Sapnap just wanted to get everyone some snacks.

He made them recount the argument, word for word, starting with George tapping his fingers ‘too loud’ on the arm of the couch.

Before long, Sapnap was telling them both off. He couldn’t say he was shocked that he had to explain that George telling Dream “I can say with utmost certainty, that you are definitely, A Bitch.” was not working cooperatively.

Dream was just as bad. But he did at least look remorseful while recounting his shout of “Every time you open your mouth I want to push you over the edge of a cliff and I mean that with all my heart.”

In the end, Sapnap made them sit in silence at opposite ends of the couch. Dream tried to feel guilty, he really did, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret squabbling with George, or chasing him around the couch. He was just so awful . Someone needed to knock him down a peg. And it’s not like he couldn’t take it, he was coming back just as hard as Dream. Maybe even harder.

Dream didn’t feel guilty for fighting with George, but he did feel guilty for getting Sapnap tangled up in the middle of it all. Dream could tell he hated the tension he and George had created.

Dream glanced towards George, checking to see if he looked as guilty as Dream felt, only to be met with George’s eyes staring at him. Weirdo. George nodded his head towards Sapnap, then between him and Dream. Dream didn’t want to admit it, but he understood.

George was saying ‘Look what we did.’ He was saying ‘Come on, we’ve to fix this.’

As much as it hurt him, Dream knew George was right. He looked up at him. George was mouthing something. Dream looked at his lips.

He was saying ‘Fuck you.’

Dream couldn’t hold in his laugh, isolated and muffled. Luckily, it was covered up by George’s exaggerated apology.

“Dream, I’m sorry for annoying you on purpose, and then for saying mean things to you.” Dream nearly had to physically restrain himself from jumping up and down, yelling ‘I told you so!’ He had known George was annoying him on purpose. Instead, he announced his apology as a reply.

“That’s okay George. I am sorry for chasing you around the couch and also for saying mean things to you.” He stopped himself from adding the ‘I am also sorry that you are a little bitch.’ He was too mature.

Instead of a relieved laugh, Sapnap’s brow furrowed. Dream could almost hear his mind moving at a mile a minute. George must have noticed it too. They both left it, but Sapnap wasn’t saying anything. And Dream had never considered patience his strongest virtue.

“Just say it Sapnap.” Dream and George were both looking at him expectantly.

“Huh?” Sapnap looked shocked that they had noticed his internal conflict.

“He’s right, whatever you’re thinking. Just say it. I can practically hear you thinking.” George agreed with Dream. It was a day full of firsts.

“Do you guys actually hate each other? Like, there’s no reason to. Or, do you just enjoy the feeling of having someone to hate? I don’t get it.”

Dream didn’t know what to say. They had never talked about it so openly, him and George. It was an unspoken truth, so obvious it didn’t need to be acknowledged.

Montague versus Capulet, Taylor versus Katie, Dream versus George.

George and Dream just stared at each other, frozen. Sapnap moved on before either of them answered.

“You know what, nevermind. It doesn’t even matter.”

The silence made Dream feel guilty, looking at Sapnap made him feel worse. He was holding himself with annoyance, rare but visible. Before Dream could try and apologise, George was changing the subject. If he was someone else, Dream would've been thankful. But he was not anyone else, so Dream thought it was rude.

“So, where is everyone? The house is empty.” George was right. Both of Sapnap’s parents were out, a rare occurrence. The house was quiet, and the noise was obviously missing. There was no smell of cooking, no top of the pops radio. Dream hardened at the thought of George realising there was something wrong in Sapnap’s house before he could. He wasn’t surprised, it was just like George to make sure he mentioned it before Dream got a chance.

Dream scoffed. George didn’t notice, and if he did he didn’t turn around.

“Oh,” Sapnap’s eyes widened, shocked at the observation. Dream made a mental note to pay more attention to how Sapnap was doing. “My dad, he’s- he’s out of town.” Sapnap didn’t say anything else about it. Instead, he did his best to help George and Dream.

They tried to work, they really did, but it was hard. The main task was to listen and learn from each other, but Dream would have rather died than learn anything from George, and the sentiment was clearly reciprocated. It had gotten to the point where neither of them were even saying anything, just looking at Sapnap waiting for instruction.

Sapnap, bless him, he tried his best. But one thing Dream and George could agree on was that it was easy to say no to Sapnap’s ideas.

“Why don’t you bond over your childhoods or something?” Sapnap threw out his fifth idea in ten minutes. Dream and George glanced to each other before replying.

“That’s dumb.”

“Ew, no Sapnap.”

Sapnap rolled his eyes

“Okay, fine. Whatever, you guys have fun.” He took his laptop from the coffee table and put in his headphones, ignoring Dream and George’s shouts of protest.

“No, Sapnap come on! Give us another idea!” Dream whined. Sapnap shook his head, trying to hide a smile.

“Sorry guys, but I do actually have my own work to do.”

Without Sapnap, things went off track quickly. George and Dream were sitting on opposite sides of Sapnap. George was cross-legged on the floor, messing with a piece of paper. Dream was draped across the armchair, head tilting back up to the ceiling. He was tossing up and down a soccer ball.

George and Dream were thinking out loud, having long abandoned brainstorming for their speeches. It was easy to ignore it when they had an infinite two months stretching out in front of them.

“Why did you fight so hard for it to be weekends?” Dream threw the question out into the air, hardly thinking about George’s reply.

“Well, I have shit to do after school.” Dream could not imagine a single thing that George might have to do after school. “Plus, I knew you have soccer training after school. I figured the team couldn’t function without their captain.” George said it sarcastically, but he couldn’t mask the truth in the statement. George knew when Dream had soccer, even if it was probably just because of Sapnap. And he had accommodated him when negotiating their punishment.

George had done something nice for Dream, without even telling him. He had just done it, quiet and personal.

Dream didn’t know how to digest this new information.

He was so preoccupied with the idea of George being in any way considerate, he didn’t notice him picking up a new sheet of paper, tearing off a corner and rolling it up into a ball. Before Dream could glance in his direction, the paper ball had hit him on the nose.

“Hey!” Dream’s head snapped towards George. He had the audacity to smile.

“Oops,” George deadpanned. Dream was whining for Sapnap within the second.

“It wasn’t an accident! It wasn’t and you know it! Sapnap, Sapnap! Tell him!” Sapnap just rolled his eyes. Dream glared at George.

“Try that again. Try it, I dare you.” Dream tried his best to sound tough. He was big, he was intimidating. He was the captain of the state champion soccer team. George couldn’t do shit to him.

George threw another piece of paper.

“Sapnap! He did that on purpose!” Dream whined. He didn’t realise how similar to an eight-year-old he sounded until the words had already left his mouth. Sapnap didn’t even look up from his laptop. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

Dream picked back up his soccer ball from his chest, a plan forming. Before he could even raise his hand, George was talking.

“Throw it, throw it and see what happens to you.” Dream gaped at George, he hadn’t even been looking at him. How did he know the soccer ball was coming? Just then, George did look. His eyes shot up from the paper crane he was making to meet Dream’s.

George’s eyes pierced him, frosty and chilling. Dream didn’t think he had ever looked into someone’s eyes the way he was doing just then. He felt like he could read George’s mind. It was saying ‘ Don’t you fucking dare’. Dream put back down the soccer ball slowly. The second George looked away, he threw it.

As the hours went by, George’s mask of indifference, his icy remarks and snarky comments, they faded away. A different George was filling his place. Still snarky, still acting as if he was just a little bit better than Dream, but different. He was excitable, quicker to smile.

George wasn’t as bad as Dream thought he was. Sure, he was a little bit rude. And he was definitely pretentious. He wasn’t as arrogant as Dream had thought he would be. And, even if it pained him to say it, he was funny.

All these things combined, he wasn’t the worst person to spend time with. No one noticed that the two mandatory hours had passed. They just stayed on Sapnap’s sitting room floor together, talking. George wasn’t a bad listener.

Dream was telling the story of his awful Monday morning, the first day of senior year. He was a good storyteller, he prided himself on that. Even Sapnap had taken off his headphones to listen. He had just gotten to the part of the story where he had to sit next to Weird Sarah. The smile George had been wearing was slipping slowly as he told him the woeful tail of having to sit next to her. George interrupted for the first time in hours.

“Hey, don’t be mean.” George was looking serious, an expression he hadn’t worn in hours. Dream didn’t understand why.

“Sarah’s actually a childhood friend. She’s really nice when you get to know her.”

Dream understood why. He felt like an idiot.

“Oh, shit, shit. Sorry, I didn’t realise. Shit. I’m sorry.” He tried his best to sound sincere, a stained sort of guilt overcoming him. George’s face didn’t change.

“No, it’s okay. It’s fine. I just forgot who you were for a second there.”

Dream felt like shit. Sarah hadn’t even done anything to him. But something in his mind was whispering to him. It wasn’t his fault if George was friends with her. Maybe they were both weird. This was classic George, trying to make him feel bad no matter what he did. Dream tried to push it away, but it was there. Lying underneath his brain, polluting his thoughts.

George, the George that Dream had come to know in that evening at Sapnap’s house, was suddenly gone. He stayed another half-hour, but it wasn’t the same. They focused on the work, writing about speech structures and other things Dream couldn’t have cared less about. And then George was gone, collected from the footpath outside Sapnap’s quiet house by his mother.

Dream and Sapnap were left alone in his sitting room. Dream wanted to sink into the floor and never get up again.

“Well That wasn’t, that wasn’t as bad as I expected.” Sapnap tried his best, but he didn’t even sound convincing to himself.

“It was bad.” Dream groaned, getting down to lie on the carpeted floor.

“Well, don’t undersell it. It wasn’t all bad.” Sapnap prodded him gently in the side with his foot. Dream squirmed.

“It was all bad.” Mixed with the embarrassment, there was a bitter kind of regret. Dream had ruined something good, something new. Before he could sink too far down his hole of sorrow, Sapnap was there.

“You should text him, to like apologise or something.” Sapnap had stood up to clean the sitting room, bring their plates into the kitchen. The conversation was over. Dream heaved himself off the floor, despite the weight of his self-pity.

“Yeah, okay. Okay. Yeah.”

It was later that night when Dream got the chance to text George. It was easier to send difficult texts from the safety of his blanket.

Dream

(10:14 pm) hey, its dream. Im sorry for talking shit about sarah.

(10:15 pm) It was mean and wasnt fair i feel really bad about it

Dream hadn’t realised just how much he actually wanted George’s forgiveness until he saw the three dots next to George’s name.

Gogy<3

(10:16 pm) its cool. dont do it again though it was a dick move

Dream

(10:16 pm) yeah i know :(

Gogy<3

(10:17 pm) also for future reference i never read texts. Message me on sc if you need me its georgenotfound

At 10:18 pm, George got a notification.

Dreamwastaken has added you as a friend.

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.6|Brittana

A/N - Happy Friday! I've actually had this one finished for a few days now since I've been writing lots to cope with the Steelers loss earlier this week LOL. Like the WMHS Titans, I think they needed the L to get their heads back in the game so hopefully we'll see a win this week. Enjoy!

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x)

The late night visits to Elliott's quickly becomes Brittany's favorite part of the week. Neither of them ever order any coffee since it's always so late by the time they get there, but hot chocolates do just fine.

After about two weeks, they've yet to run out of new things to talk about. They just sip on their drinks by the fire and chat about whatever comes to mind first. It's funny how easy they get along; sometimes it feels like they've been friends forever and that's probably the best part of all.

"So," Santana hums after licking whipped cream from her top lip, "How'd you start playing football?"

Brittany chuckles at the random question; just before they had been talking about what they'd take with them if they were stranded on a deserted island. Santana said she'd bring a survival expert because no way I'm doing all the work myself while Brittany thought a phone would be a good idea – she didn't think about there not being any service out there though.

"How anybody starts playing, I guess?" Brittany shrugs as she cups her mug, "I just tried out."

Santana gives her a look before she smirks, "No I mean, what made you like it enough that you wanted to play on a team?"

"Oh!" Brittany has to stop and think, "I've always liked sports, I think. I like being active. When I was younger my parents couldn't get me to sit still. Sports were a way I could use up all of that energy. I was such a handful, Pete can be like that too."

"Really?" Santana looks surprised, "He's always so chill the times I've seen him."

Brittany snickers, "That's probably because he has a teeny tiny crush on you and you make him all shy."

"He does not," Santana laughs, "So did your parents make you try out for everything or did you have a choice?"

"A little of both, I think?" Brittany says, "My parents always encouraged me to try new things. They never really made me do anything. If I ended up not liking a certain sport, they let me quit. I think football is the most challenging for me though. That's probably why I like it so much."

Santana nods before going to take another sip, "That's really cool that your parents are so supportive of you."

"Yeah. What about you?" Brittany wonders, "How'd you get into cheering?"

Santana averts her gaze to her drink, "That's not really an interesting story. I did it solely for the popularity boost. I learned early on that getting into the right clique is the only way to make it through high school so Quinn and I joined as soon as we could. Besides, I doubt my dad would never let me get into contact sports – he's not a fan of the injury risks."

"I get that," Brittany nods, "Do you like it at least? Cheering?"

"I do now," Santana shrugs, "At the start, not so much. The Captain before us was such a bitch, she made our lives a living hell. Coach Sylvester is kind of a tyrant too but I adapted to her. The uniform makes up for all the trouble though, it's like wearing armor. No one can usually touch you and so many people are suckers for the skirt."

Brittany shakes her head at the way Santana starts to smirk, "I bet you've broken many hearts with that one."

Santana laughs, "Not on purpose."

Brittany giggles along with her and they spend the rest of their time talking about whatever comes next until their cups are empty.

Brittany loves this part; the whole getting to know someone better. She was worried she'd never get the chance with Santana, but she's seen a shift in her demeanor since Homecoming. The Co-Captain is still guarded but Brittany can tell that she's trying to be better and that's all that really matters to her.

\\

The next day, Brittany's at school going through her regular routine of trying to avoid the stares.

Since being crowned Homecoming King, she has a lot more people coming up to talk to her – either about the game on Friday (which the Titans won) or how awesome they think she is. It's super weird having the whole school treat you like some sort of celebrity, but she rather have that then the constant dirty looks the guys on the Hockey team still give her and all the other Titans.

When she gets to her final class of the day she finds Santana is just getting settled in her seat. Ms. Holliday lingers by the door and hands Brittany her usual warm-up activity as she greets her.

"Thanks Ms. Holliday," Brittany says in passing before she comes to her shared desk and shrugs off her bookbag, "Hey Santana."

"Hi," Santana greets with a smile before nodding to her worksheet, "Wanna do this together?"

"Yeah, sure!" Brittany grins.

"While you guys work on that," Ms. Holliday announces as she begins her rounds around the classroom, "I'm going to start handing back your papers that took me forever to grade. That's the last time I assign anything longer than a two page limit."

Brittany groans; she's been dreading this day for awhile.

English has never been her best subject and she particularly struggles with the writing assignments which happens to be her first big assessment of the semester. She remembers Santana offering to help, but Brittany never took her up on it. They weren't really friends at the time and she's a little closed off when it comes to studying with others.

When Ms. Holliday comes around to slide a paper face down on Brittany's desk, it takes her a moment before she's hesitantly peeling back the corner to reveal the grade.

"Crap," Brittany mutters when she sees the bright red C- along with an array of red markings littering the page.

"Not what you were expecting?" Ms. Holliday asks softly.

"Not quite," Brittany frowns as she starts to read her teacher's comments. None of the critiques surprise her, but the grade still doesn't sit well with her.

"Have you considered looking for a study buddy?" Ms. Holliday suggests lightly as she hands Santana her paper next.

Brittany glances to her side just in time to see the bright red A+ on Santana's paper. She tries to be inconspicuous but Santana catches her staring as Ms. Holliday walks away.

"I'm kind of a whizz at this stuff," Santana jokes before offering, "I could tutor you if you want?"

Brittany quickly shakes her head, "Oh no, I couldn't ask you to do all that. I'm not sure when I'd even have the time between practice and weight training."

"You'd probably want to make time," Santana replies as she tucks away her paper without a second look, "I've heard Coach Beiste is pretty hard on the players when it comes to maintaining their GPAs. Total opposite of Coach Sylvester who doesn't give a shit as long as you're nailing the routines. There was once a girl on the squad that had a 0.0. I didn't know GPAs went that low."

"Great," Brittany slumps back, "I can usually skate by, but the grading scale here is so different from my old school. This would be a solid B- over there."

"Like I said, I can help you?" Santana offers again but this time she pairs it with a smile.

Brittany bites her lip at the sight of it; those smiles are starting to get a little distracting.

"I don't know," She replies shyly, "It kind of takes me a second to catch onto things, my past tutors have gotten a little impatient with me. I wouldn't want to waste your time."

"I promise it won't be a waste of my time," Santana tells her earnestly, "I've tutored a couple of Titans before and I can tell just by how you've formatted your paper that you're a lot smarter than you think."

Brittany bites her lip at that and starts to consider her offer, "I'm not sure when we'd be able to meet. I get out of practice around 6 at the earliest."

"That's loads of time. I'm pretty flexible," She says then quickly clarifies, "With scheduling, I mean. Cheerios practice usually finishes up before yours and we have the same days off. We can even get together at Elliott's? Although I think the Lima Bean is closer, but whatever's easiest for you."

Brittany glances at Santana again and she's kind of surprised how willing she is to help with her studies. Even her friends back home were always a little hesitant when it came to studying with her, so to see Santana being so eager eases most of Brittany's reservations.

"Okay," Brittany finally relents, "Only if you want to. I don't want to take up too much of your time though."

Santana just sighs through her smile, "You're too considerate for your own good sometimes, Pierce."

Brittany blushes at that, "I just don't have a very good track record when it comes to this stuff."

"Well, I don't mind," Santana assures her, "Seriously. I wouldn't offer if I did so don't worry about it."

"Okay," Brittany nods bashfully, "Thanks."

Santana just shrugs dismissively before turning back to her worksheet.

\\

In addition to how everything's going with Santana, things seem to have shifted for the better when it comes to the Titans too. For the most part, Brittany's gained the team's respect and their dynamic is the strongest its ever been. There's an even bigger push for harder training now that they're getting closer to the playoffs, but despite most of the team being on the same page there are still two that love to stand out.

Karofsky and Azimio.

It's towards the end of practice and they're running a couple different plays and the infamous duo have been insufferable the entire time. Coach Beiste has yet to get involved, but that's on Brittany. She wants to be able to control her team, she doesn't want to have to go running to the Coach just because of a couple guys that won't get with it.

But those two never just do as they're told, there's always some backhanded comment and Brittany's getting sick of it. The only reason she hasn't snapped is because she doesn't want to let her emotions get the best of her. They've used that against her before and she knows if she were to have an outburst again they'd just do the same thing. That's the most frustrating part about working with ignorant assholes, arguing with them doesn't do a damn thing – until today.

Brittany goes to gather her offense for a quick huddle so that she can run through the next play and Azimio is already on her with the belittling nicknames.

"Alright Princess," He groans, "What are you having us do this time?"

"Not another play-action," Karofsky jokes.

Brittany's jaw tenses and she's about to go off on the both of them when Finn – of all people – beats her to it.

"God, when are you two going to give it up already?" He snaps, "The pushback is so annoying!"

"Woah!" Karofsky raises his hands dramatically, "Has Hudson been body snatched?"

"No," Finn replies, "I've just realized that fighting all of this progress gets you nowhere! Seriously, have you guys not noticed? We're actually winning this season."

Azimio shakes his head and slaps at Karofsky's shoulder like he can't believe his ears.

"Look around you man," Finn tells him, "No one's laughing with you anymore."

Their faces fall into grimaces while Finn looks to Brittany.

"I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but Britt's taught me what a real leader looks like and I think that's cool. Not gonna lie, I was mad that she replaced me but now that I've gotten to know her, I'm happy she's here. Actually, I'm glad she replaced me so we can finally have a damn chance!" Finn explains with a dopy grin before he hardens his gaze and looks back Azimio and Karofsky, "Maybe it's time you both learn something too?"

"Yeah," Puck chimes in as he flinches at them with his fists balled, "Like keeping your damn traps shut. You know, just for this bullshit – I don't want to see your faces at my place next week for Halloween."

"Dude! What?" Azimio scoffs.

Karofsky looks like he's about to cry. It nearly makes Brittany laugh; who knew getting an invite revoked could be so hurtful to those guys. Meanwhile, Brittany's still on the fence about going.

Puck just crosses his arms, "I'm with Finn here. You two need to cut the shit already."

"You say you want to win?" Finn asks them, "Well Britt's our best shot at that so just fall in line already."

"Or quit the team so the rest of us can focus," Sam suggests.

Mike nods along with him.

Azimio and Karofsky just stew in their annoyance, but they don't fight the other players. Brittany hopes that this is the last she'll hear from them, but she has a feeling they still have a little left in them.

But Finn smiles proudly and looks back to Brittany as he holds out his fist to her, "Take us to 8-1, Cap."

Brittany can't help but smile as she bumps her fist with his.

This is what a real team looks like, this is what she's been trying to show them all this time. You have each other's back and you respect one another, that's what you're meant to do when you're apart of a team and Brittany feel so proud to see this kind of progress.

"Alright, last play of the day. Up the Guts and Pop Right. Titans on three. One…two…three," She says followed by a loud clap, "Titans!"

Everyone falls into position and there's not a single word uttered from Azimio and Karofsky for the first time all afternoon.

\\

When Brittany gets to her locker later the next day, she frowns when she doesn't see Santana there yet. She's wondering if maybe she missed her again or maybe she's too early when she spots Kurt and Mercedes walking towards her.

"Hey guys!" Brittany greets before putting in her locker combo.

"Your majesty," Kurt bows playfully.

Brittany chuckles, "You've got to stop doing that before it catches on."

"How you been?" Mercedes asks as she leans against Santana's locker.

Brittany's glad that she gets hers open in time because the door just so happens to block them from seeing her smile.

She really can't help it, because when she thinks of how she's been she thinks of the weekend. She's reminded of all the times she's made Santana laugh with something silly she said. She's reminded of how different Santana looks dressed in something other than her Cheerios uniform. She's reminded of how Santana's nose crinkles when she smiles really big and how it makes Brittany's heart flip at the sight of it.

"Good," Brittany answers casually.

"What have you been up to?" Mercedes wonders, "What was your weekend like?"

"Yeah," Kurt adds, "I didn't even see you leave after the game on Friday."

Brittany continues to play it coy as she pulls her books out, "I was hanging out with Santana."

"Again?" Mercedes asks.

Brittany let's out a quiet sigh. She let it slip once before that she and Santana hung out, but it seems like her friends haven't forgotten about it like she'd hope they would. She thinks it's a great thing that she's getting to know Santana better, but others – like Kurt and Mercedes – seem to disagree and she's starting to understand why Santana's always so guarded.

"Yeah," Brittany shrugs casually, "Santana's tutoring me for English."

"On a Friday night?" Mercedes questions.

Brittany doesn't get what the big deal is and nods.

"You've gotten quite close since Homecoming," Kurt comments and Brittany already hates where this is going.

"We're friends."

Mercedes sputters out a laugh, "That girl doesn't have friends. She has Quinn and people she wants to crush."

"Or crush on…" Kurt smirks at Brittany.

"What?" Mercedes looks confused.

The blonde's brows furrow too, "Yeah. What?"

"Maybe she likes you?" Kurt suggests, "That has to be it; that's the only logical explanation. Santana Lopez doesn't usually get close to anyone unless there's something in it for her."

"Or she's trying to throw sticks at your head," Mercedes adds, "Her aim is awful."

Kurt nods, "You're climbing ranks pretty fast, Britt, she probably just needs the popularity boost."

"Preach," Mercedes says with the wave of her hand.

Brittany frowns at the pair. She can't believe she's hearing them talk about Santana like this. It's actually making her a little annoyed, but she keeps her cool for now as she explains, "I don't think it's like that. Santana's nice. Maybe her stick throwing days are behind her?"

"Nice?" Mercedes' brows rise, "She doesn't know how to do that."

"Sure she does," Brittany responds; she can feel herself getting defensive but she keeps her cool.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Kurt says warily, "Just be careful around her. Other than Quinn and her reputation, there's not much else Santana cares about."

"You guys are making a lot of assumptions about someone you don't even talk to," Brittany points out as she stuffs the last book she needs into her bookbag. She tries to keep her voice even although she feels the back of her neck heat up, "Or do you talk?"

"Oh, I've tried talking to her," Kurt says.

"When?" Mercedes questions disbelievingly.

"Last year," Kurt says, "Remember? I extended an olive branch and she hit me with it."

"Okay, what's with all the sticks and branches?" Brittany sighs because she's struggling to keep up.

"I'm meaning figuratively," Kurt clarifies, "I've tried to make nice with her and it did not go well. She went off on me in front of everyone."

"I remember that. People don't call her Satan for nothing," Mercedes reasons, "And I thought Bree was bad."

"Oh no, she was way worse than Santana," Kurt says, "For obvious reasons, of course."

Brittany starts to wonder what he means and who this Bree person is.

"True," Mercedes replies with the shake of her head, "They were both nightmares. I'm glad we only have to deal with one of them now even if it has to be Satan."

And that's what puts Brittany over the edge.

She slams her locker shut, "Alright, that's enough. I don't think it's cool how you're talking about my friend like that."

Kurt's taken aback, "Wait, we're sorry. We got carried away. Santana's just…she's got a history of not being a nice person. We just don't want you getting hurt."

Brittany furrows her brows as she pulls on her bookbag, "Does it look like I can't take care of myself?"

Kurt and Mercedes look to each other guiltily.

"Look, I appreciate you both looking out for me but Santana is my friend," Brittany tells them firmly, "And I'm not going to listen to either of you talk about her when you don't even know her. God, you have no idea what goes on behind the scenes for her. You have no idea what she struggles with."

"Britt," Kurt tries, "We didn't mean to upset you, but like – what could she possibly have to struggle with other than the obvious? She's at the top of the food chain. She's popular, she's loaded, she's Santana Lopez."

"Everyone has something. Maybe you should think about that the next time either of you judge someone without knowing them," Brittany says. She hasn't been angry like this in awhile and she's sure it shows, "You're in the Glee Club, you know what it's like to be pushed down for being yourselves but at least you have a group of people who support you. She doesn't, so where's your damn compassion?"

She doesn't let them get in another word before she storms off to her last class of the day.

\\

Santana's already seated in her usual seat when Brittany arrives to Ms. Holliday's classroom. She's still fuming, but she tries her best to mask it as she approaches their shared desk.

Clearly she doesn't do a very good job of it.

"You alright?" Santana asks as Brittany gets settled.

"Yeah?" Brittany tries to play it cool, "Why?"

She's organizing her binder and pulling out her pen just as Ms. Holliday starts to go through the warm up activity, but she can feel that Santana is still staring.

"You're all…pink in the face," Santana notes with a brow raised.

"Oh," Brittany rubs the back of her hand against her cheek like it's going to make it go away, "I forgot something in my locker and had to run back before the bell rang."

It's a lame excuse but she panicked.

She couldn't tell Santana that the real reason is because her so-called friends had just been talking down on her and it pissed Brittany off. She guesses she could, but she doesn't want Santana to retaliate and further prove that Kurt and Mercedes were right about her.

It's just hard for Brittany to believe that Santana could be anything like the stories they've told. Other than how she threatened JBI weeks ago, Brittany hasn't really witnessed that part of her before. Then again, she was pretty rude to Brittany when she first started at McKinley so that makes her wonder maybe there might be some truth behind her friends' warnings?

"Question," Brittany whispers to Santana.

"Yeah?"

Brittany bites her lip, "You've…never thrown sticks at my head, right?"

Santana chokes out a laugh and looks to Brittany only to find her looking back with this serious expression on her face. Santana softens, "No. I've never thrown sticks at your head."

"Have you thrown sticks at anyone's head before?" Brittany asks.

Santana tilts her head to the side, "I don't think so. Maybe when I was a little kid?"

"Okay," Brittany nods before going back to her work, "Just checking."

Santana only gives her a curious look before going back to do her activity too.

While Brittany answers the questions, she can't help but think back to her conversation with Kurt and Mercedes. The more time she spends getting to know Santana, the less she believes that this so-called Satan version exists.

If it did, then Brittany must be immune to it. Still though, she wonders about all the missing pieces to Santana that she has yet to learn like what went down last year and who this Bree girl is and why is everyone so bitchy to each other?

\\

It's not until the next day that Brittany's curiosity finally gets the best of her.

She and Santana are studying together at the Lima Bean one afternoon and she's trying her hardest to focus on the examples Santana's going over, but there's too many nagging questions in her head and none of them are about Ms. Holliday's class.

"I have a question," Brittany finally says.

Santana pauses and looks up at Brittany, "Yeah?"

Brittany shifts a little in her seat, "It's not about this though."

Santana puts down her pen, "Okay?"

"Who's Bree?"

"Bree?" Santana blinks at her like she's not sure if she heard correctly.

Brittany nods, "Kurt and Mercedes mentioned something about her and you – "

"What'd they say?" She interrupts. There's a noticeable change right away as Santana sits straighter, her chin just slightly raised as if to say hit me with your best shot.

"Nothing really," Brittany assures her, "They just brought her up and how she wasn't really a nice person. I wanted to hear from you though because they kind of compared you...to her."

Santana instantly scoffs as she averts her gaze, "I'm nothing like her, that bitch was pure evil."

Brittany's brows rise at Santana's tone, but Santana softens just a little at the sight.

"Sorry. I guess I should be thankful that you didn't hear about it sooner," Santana sighs, "God knows people at this school love to start drama for no reason."

Brittany bites her lip at the sound of Santana being so bitter again. It reminds her of their conversation at the Homecoming Dance and how she could see Santana struggling with so much inside of her. She's never met someone who had such a hard time being themselves.

"Is this about last year?" Brittany wonders.

Santana lets out a deep sigh again. She's yet to look at Brittany as she answers, "Yeah."

"Oh," Brittany breathes out, "Well, I don't want you to feel pressured to talk about it if you're not ready. I was just wondering, you don't have to explain or whatever. We can go back to studying."

Santana chances a glance at Brittany rambling. Her voice is soft and small, "No, I want to tell you."

Blue eyes flicker between dark brown, "Are you sure?"

Santana nods, "I rather you hear it from me then someone else. At least you'll get the truth."

"Okay."

It takes Santana a moment before she begins to tell her story, but Brittany just sits there patiently waiting. There's another exhale and a glance at Brittany before Santana starts.

"So when Quinn and I joined the Cheerios in our Freshman year, Bree was the Captain," Santana explains, "That was back when there was only one. Anyway, she was a year older and didn't really like us from the very start. Not many girls on the squad were fond of her either, because she was a major bitch. A bigger one than me if you can imagine that."

Santana laughs at her own expense but Brittany only frowns.

"I can imagine that because I don't think you're a bitch," Brittany tells her earnestly.

Santana only smirks, "Well you're the only one. Anyway, we developed this rivalry pretty early on because I guess she felt threatened by Quinn and I? It only got worse as the year progressed. By Sophomore year, Quinn and I managed to convince Coach Sylvester that two Captains were better than one and Bree was demoted to the bottom of the pyramid."

"Woah," Brittany gasped.

"Yeah," Santana looks proud of herself, "Bree didn't like that very much, of course."

"I bet," Brittany chuckled.

"That was also around the time that I started to realize that I was," Santana pauses and at first she looks unsure but then she looks to Brittany, "I was realizing that I was gay."

Brittany tries to keep her proud smile small and nods for her to keep going.

"There was this girl," Santana admits, "She was a Junior – same as Bree – at Carmel High and a cheerleader too so we knew a little of each other since we often competed against them. She was like the only girl in this town that was openly gay – kind of like you, she was sure of who she was, confident. I thought she was so cool for that."

Brittany begins to smirk, "Does that mean you think I'm cool too?"

Santana begins to blush, "No."

"Convincing," Brittany chuckles, "Go on."

"Well, she became the first girl I knowingly had a crush on," Santana explains then quickly follows up with, "I don't know if it was an actual crush or if I was just amazed by how she carried herself. Like was it envy or did I really like her, you know?"

"I definitely know," Brittany says, "Do you want to be her or be on her, right?"

Santana looks a little surprised by Brittany's example, "Yeah, that. Anyway, she actually use to work at Elliott's as a barista. That's why I use to go there all the time. I was way too afraid to actually talk to her so I spent so much money on ordering drinks instead."

"Really?" Brittany begins to smirk, "That's kind of cute, Santana. It's kind of hard to imagine you being that shy."

"Shut up," Santana grumbles through an embarrassed smile, "As if you've never had a crush on someone you thought was out of your league."

Brittany chuckles, "You'd be surprised."

"I really would be," Santana replies, "I was terrified of anyone at school finding out so I tried my hardest to hide it. I dated guy after guy just trying to force the feeling away. I just wanted to be like everyone else – normal."

"It is normal," Brittany assures her.

"I didn't think so back then," Santana admits sadly, "I'm still trying to work on that now. It's hard when you're brought up a certain way with all this pressure to be the perfect whatever – student, daughter, girlfriend, cheerleader. Hiding who I was got tiring but at Elliott's – I felt safe, like I could be myself. No one from McKinley usually came out that way so there wasn't much risk of running into anyone I knew. I started to gain a little confidence and ended up going there every day for like a year just so I could talking to this girl for literally 5 minutes, it was so bad."

Brittany teases playfully, "Who knew you were such a romantic."

Santana smirks, "I guess I knew what I was doing because all that hard work finally turned into something. One day during my Junior year, she asked me if I wanted to hang out with her on her break. It was crazy; I didn't even think, I just said yes and we went out back and sat on the stoop just talking. She actually gave me my first cigarette that day. I felt so cool."

Brittany shakes her head at how Santana puffs out her chest a little, "Of course you did."

"What I didn't know was that Bree had been keeping tabs on me for the longest time," Santana continues, "At first she was thinking that I was making nice with someone on the Carmel squad and you know how deep this rivalry goes. No one is to fraternize with the enemy, so this was the perfect opportunity for Bree to get enough dirt on me so that she could take my spot as Co-Captain before she graduated."

Brittany starts to frown as she realizes where this might be going.

"She ended up getting way more than she asked for that day," Santana says ominously, "While she was staging some sort of stake out, Bree witnessed the moment I found out that this girl liked me too. We were sitting out on the back porch when she leaned over and kissed me. It was just on the cheek but still – I'd never been kissed by someone that I could actually have a chance with. It was the greatest moment of all time and Bree stole it from me by catching the whole thing on camera."

"Shit," Brittany gasped, "What?"

"The next day I came to school and the halls had been covered in pictures of the kiss," Santana whispers, "I was mortified. Quinn tried taking down as many as she could, but there were too many. People had already seen and Bree was just churning out rumor after rumor. Some were a little true and some weren't, but it didn't matter by then. I was in no position to even try and defend myself, especially when JBI started airing the video clip. The whole school had been exposed before I could do anything about it. I felt so…small I guess? I ran out of there crying."

"Oh my God, Santana," Brittany's heart feels so heavy, "That's horrible, I'm so sorry."

Santana shrugs, "Bree and JBI got suspended for a bit but the damage was done. They loved finally getting a chance to take their shots at one of McKinley's baddest. People either wanted to be me or feared me before that happened, but after? It was hard to bounce back. It's a good thing I have tough skin. Someone always has something to say, even now."

"It shouldn't have to be like that," Brittany shakes her head, "I don't get this school. I don't get how people can be so mean to each other. This is you, this is who you are and you're awesome. Why should you have to hide any of that?"

"Look, I'm not innocent either," Santana replies, "I've been a bitch to so many people. I guess it was like karma or something. Maybe I deserved it for the things I've said to people?"

Brittany reaches out to cover Santana's hand with her own. She moves without thinking, but she felt like it needed to be done. She needed some way to ground Santana enough so that she'd hear her and this was the best she could come up with.

"No one deserves to be outed," Brittany tells her, "No one."

Santana nods as she glances down at the hand on hers, "There's more."

Brittany's brows furrow as she pulls away.

"Not only did that video circulate in school, it went viral – even my parents saw," Santana continues, "I've never seen my dad so angry. Not only did I fuck up our family's reputation, I jeopardized my chance at getting into an Ivy League school. He's pretty well known and to have his only daughter being exposed in such a light…it was scandalous."

Brittany frowns at the sarcasm, "What about your mom?"

"It took her a second to understand but she's getting there. She's a little more supportive," Santana shrugs, "The biggest issue is with my dad. Reputation has always been of high importance on his side of the family so…it's been hard."

"I can only imagine," Brittany sighs.

"I missed so much school last year too because I was just so distracted with everything going on. I really screwed myself so he's been on my case this year to make sure I'm still in a position to get into a good school," Santana says.

"God Santana," Brittany replies, "I'm so sorry. I know I keep saying that but just…I can't think of anything else to say. I'm so speechless."

Santana nods and for a moment there's this faraway look on her face, "It's whatever now. I just… I wasn't ready, you know? I didn't even get a chance to tell my parents properly before they found out. I always was so careful. Dated the hottest guys, stayed on top of my grades, I was Co-Captain; I had this whole school wrapped around my finger just so no one would suspect a thing. I thought I could keep it up until graduation. I just thought I had more time to get everything figured out, you know?"

Brittany stays quiet this time, just soaking in everything Santana's said. It's all so heartbreaking. She can't imagine going through what Santana did. It must've felt like the whole world had turned its back on her and Brittany feels for her.

"So now you know about that," Santana says awkwardly as if she's trying to fill the silence, "This is why I'm a pain in the ass when it comes to my sexuality. Kurt and Mercedes have probably told you how cruel I've been to them and they're right about me there."

Brittany is quick to argue, "You were hurt, it takes time to heal especially from something like this."

"I was a bully and there's no excuse for it," Santana tells her, "I did what I did and I can't really take that back. I'm trying to be better now, but it's still hard for me to find the balance of what's me and what isn't. The lines have been blurred for so long."

"Well, I wasn't around to witness whatever happened between you and them or whoever you may have treated badly," Brittany says, "But this Santana I've come to know…she isn't a bully, she's my friend. She's considerate and patient. She volunteers her time to help me study and most importantly…she's nice."

"Thanks," Santana says shyly, "It's kind of cool having someone in my corner for once – other than Quinn, obviously. You're different. You make everything sound so simple, you know? You're just really wise, I guess."

Brittany chuckles at that, "I don't know about wise. I grew up in a very different place than you and I guess it shows."

"It really does," Santana agrees, "I hope I can get to where you are one day."

"You will," Brittany assures her.

"Thanks."

After a pause Brittany begins to wonder, "So whatever happened to the girl? The barista?"

"Oh," Santana frowns, "Nothing really, I just didn't know how to move forward after everything I put her through, you know? I felt bad about it all. She was really understanding I guess. Once she graduated a few months later, I never heard from her again."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Santana shrugs, "I wasn't like in love with her or anything. Honestly, I didn't expect her to stick around anyway. It was just too complicated. Sometimes it still feels that way, like I'm spinning my wheels and getting nowhere."

"Well, for what it's worth I think you're making great progress," Brittany says kindly.

"You think so?"

"Totally!" Brittany grins, "I mean, we went to Homecoming together. As friends, but did you ever imagine that would be something you'd do in high school? Have a cute girl like me for a date?"

Santana rolls her eyes at the teasing tone, "No one said you were cute."

"It doesn't have to be said," Brittany jokes.

Santana fights the blush, "To answer your question…No, I guess that's not something I imagined doing in high school."

"Consider it forward progress then," Brittany winks.

"Is that one of your football terms?"

"Yeah," Brittany giggles.

Santana shakes her head, "You're a dork."

"Rude," Brittany chuckles, "So what was this mysterious crush's name or is that top secret?"

"No it isn't top secret," Santana laughs. She softens a little like it's the first time she's said it out loud in awhile. In reality, it is. "Her name was Dani."

Brittany nods solemnly before reaching for her drink. It's cold by now but Brittany doesn't pay too much attention to it, she's still trying to process everything Santana's told her. She isn't surprised by how the kids at McKinley reacted to Santana's sexuality, but damn…she can't believe Santana went through something like that and she's still trying secure her spot at the top of the food chain.

That shows resilience and Brittany wonders if Santana knows how amazing she is for that. She notices how hard she struggles internally just from the couple of times they've talked about something other than school. Santana comments a lot on Brittany's traits and wanting to be like her one day, but Brittany finds herself wanting to embody just an ounce of what Santana has.

Other than her dad, Brittany doesn't think she's met anyone stronger than Santana and she really admires that about her.

"Sorry for bringing the mood down," Santana comments to fill the void. She has her pen in her hand again as she turns back to their work, "We can get back to this."

Brittany shakes away her thoughts, "No, don't be sorry. I was the one who asked, you didn't bring it down."

Santana smirks, "That's not what your face says."

Brittany relaxes, "I was just thinking – "

"About ending this session early?" Santana jokes.

"No," Brittany rolls her eyes playfully, "I was just thinking about how brave you are."

Santana looks surprised, almost disbelieving.

"All that stuff that happened to you; you could've switched schools, you could've changed your name and got a face lift, "Brittany rambles, "You could've dropped off the face of the Earth but you didn't. You still walk around the school like you own it even if you're afraid. I think that makes you brave."

"Or stubborn," Santana smirks, "Apparently I get that from my dad's side."

"Damnit Santana," Brittany grumbles though she smiles, "I'm trying to compliment you. Can you just take it? You don't always have to fight me. You do have good qualities about you even if everyone's trying to tell you otherwise."

Santana rests back in her chair and her brow is quirked but it's not in that challenging way Brittany's used to. It's more so impressed or maybe surprised? Either way, the smirk remains and Brittany awaits whatever snarky thing she's bound to say in reply.

"You've had chocolate powder on your nose this entire time," Santana notes instead, "Right on the tip. It's been very distracting."

Brittany's jaw drops and she quickly goes to wipe it off with the back of her hand. Sure enough, there's chocolate powder there and her cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment while Santana laughs her ass off.

"You're so hilarious, Santana," Brittany says sarcastically before she's reaching for Santana's discarded marshmallows and winds up to hurl one at her.

"Don't you dare, Pierce!" Santana laughs as she goes to hide behind her book.

"It's payback!"

"Take the high road!"

"Never!"

Soon marshmallows and wadded up napkins are being thrown back and forth while the baristas just watch from behind the counter laughing, "You guys are cleaning that up!"

Brittany just gives them a thumbs up before Santana's pelting her with a ball of crumbled up notebook paper.

\\\\\

For once, Santana actually feels genuine happiness.

It's been a long time, so long in fact that she can't remember the last time she felt happy but she's sure it doesn't involve Brittany. The past two weeks have been a blur for her. Not because they're so monotonous that the days blend into one, but because of how much lighter she feels now that she's being honest and open about everything.

Okay, maybe not everything and maybe she's not being honest and open with everyone but she's trying. For the first time, she actually feels like she's getting somewhere. With Brittany around, Santana feels like so much more is possible. To have someone like her rooting for her is something Santana's rarely experienced.

Sure, she has Quinn but with Brittany it hits differently and Santana might think she knows why.

It's silly, but she's started to count the number of times Brittany has smiled at her. Sometimes they're whispering about something in class and Santana will catch it from the corner of her eye. Sometimes she sees it from the other end of the hallway through the sea of students – it's like a beacon, a the light from a lighthouse guiding her through. Sometimes it's the first thing she sees when Brittany pulls off her helmet at the end of a game.

Santana finds her gaze lingering longer on those pretty pink lips, just watching the way they move around words that never quite reach her ears because her pounding heart drowns them out.

Santana has a pretty good streak going so far when it comes to seeing Brittany smile her way, but she's sure she would die the day she break it – if that day were to ever come.

She's hoping it never does.

But, Santana isn't the only one who has taken a closer look at their budding friendship.

\\

Santana's on her way to her locker with her books clutched against her chest and her head held high like always when out of nowhere JBI slides into her path.

She instantly scoffs at him.

"Why are you in my way?" She demands.

"Santana Lopez, Co-Captain of the Cheerios and dating the star quarterback Brittany S. Pierce," JBI says into his mic with that smug grin of his on his face.

Santana grits her teeth even though the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. It's a big accusation and Santana hates how her heart both skips a beat before it plummets.

"Care to comment?" JBI prompts.

"We're not dating," Santana says firmly before shoving the mic out of her face. She tries to walk around him and get out of there as fast as she can but he cuts her off again.

"Our sources have spotted you two together at numerous locations over the last couple of weeks," JBI replies, "Seems like we're going to get a repeat of last year?"

Santana rolls her eyes. If she wasn't holding onto her books, her fists would be balled at her sides, itching to punch him square in the throat. That's exactly what he wants out of her though. He wants a show and he knows just what to say to get one.

"We were studying," Santana says evenly. Really, she shouldn't even be explaining herself but there's this tug of fear at the back of her mind that urges her to be on the defense.

"Studying? Is that what the kids call it these days?" He asks slyly.

Santana gives him a look, "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means you two are totally hooking up," JBI looks pleased with himself. He can see he's starting to wear Santana down and if he keeps at it, she'll give him a show.

"How do you come to that conclusion?" Santana she retorts before brushing past him. She can see what he's doing and yet she still manages to get one foot caught in his web.

She tries to walk away, but she goes about three steps before he's reeling her back in. 

"You tell me," JBI sneers, "You're the one with a history of sucking face in public areas. Who's to say Brittany isn't your new conquest? I’m sure no one at this school would complain if another video of you and – "

Santana whirls on him and she's griping her books so tightly they're sure to snap. She's about two seconds away from losing it, so she tries to at least breathe before she accidentally kicks JBI's ass. 

“It’s not going to happen,” Santana threatens, "Leave her out of this."

JBI only grins, “So there is something going on between you two?”

Santana just huffs, “Fuck off, JBI.”

"Now you're refusing to answer the question? Interesting. Your closeness at Homecoming should've been the first indicator that something was up," JBI smirks as he turns to his camera friend, “You heard it here first, McKinley.”

Santana shakes her head, "You know what? I'm not doing this. I'm not going to get dragged onto your bullshit gossip blog again. Nothing is going on, so drop this before I go all Lima Heights on your ass."

"You don't scare me anymore," JBI stands tall, "Not after your very public downfall. That video of you running down the hall crying last year still has the most hits out of all my vids."

Santana's chest feels tight and she's afraid if she were to speak her voice would crack. She's both infuriated and humiliated but which overpowers the other? Is she going to let JBI run his mouth? Should she just ignore him and go about her day? She can't; she can't let him get away with peddling rumors about her again – not when they involve Brittany too.

She feels so conflicted, because despite how false these rumors are no one would believe her if she told the truth anyway. This school is so damn backwards they’ll listen to this dweeb with a mic before they hear the truth – especially when it comes to her private life. This is why she’s so hellbent on keeping everything she feels under wraps! You give these people an inch and they take a mile.

"Listen," Santana takes a threatening step forward. Her voice drips into something low and gravely, "You got away with it last time but I'm not playing games with you anymore so watch your goddamn mouth. This isn't like last year. Bree's not around to back you up."

"I don't need Bree," He says shakily, "You're not as high and mighty as you think you are. Your only saving grace now is that you're still somehow a Cheerio. Other than that? You're all talk."

Santana looks back at him in disbelief, "Is that so?"

JBI doesn't get a chance to reply before Santana's dropping her books and going to kick him between the legs. The shriek he lets out echoes down the hall but Santana doesn't stop. She goes for the camera-kid next and rips the camera from his hands before smashing it on the ground, pleased to see it shatter into chunks of plastic.

JBI scrambles to his feet and they begin to shove at each other while the camera-kid just stares wide-eyed at the mess that was once his beloved camera.

All Santana sees is red as students start to gather around them. Despite what she might say, Santana's not much of a fighter but JBI isn't much of one either so the match up is pretty even. Santana just swings her arms, hoping to land at least half of the blows she wants. All of this pent of frustration that's been building since last year has finally found an exit and its target is JBI.

It isn't until Mr. Schue notices the ruckus and rushes in to break it up.

"Woah!" He shouts, "What is going on here?"

"She assaulted me!" JBI cries before hiding behind the teacher.

"Like hell I did," Santana snaps and lunges at JBI again, "You haven't seen assault yet!"

"Hey!" Mr. Schue holds her back, "Principal's office, both of you. Let's go."

Santana only manages to grab her books before she's being pushed to towards the office with Mr. Schue's hand on her shoulder and JBI whimpering next to her. God, all she wants to do is kick him again for the dramatics – he really knows how to play an audience.

Just as they're about to cross the science wing, Santana spots her best friend in the crowd. Quinn is giving her a worried look but Santana's sure that one glance at JBI will have her connecting the dots. With him around, trouble always follows closely behind Santana.

Afterall, how long is she meant to take all of this crap before she actually does something about it? She didn't lash out at Bree. She didn't lash out with JBI. She didn't lash out at the entire school, so what the hell do they expect from her now?

She's been angry and frustrated about everything for so long and she has been bottling it up, trying to save face and make it to graduation but at what cost? She has to deal with it at school and at home and she can't do it anymore – something's gotta give, but what?

She's just tired.

She's been tired and she's so over being afraid of what everyone thinks about her. This isn’t anything like who she use to be. She use to feel confident in herself, she use to walk around the school like she owned – and maybe on the outside, it still looks that way. Inside though, she’s a wreck. Was it all an act or was she truly fearless? She’s been playing both sides for so long, she can’t even remember what’s real anymore.

All she knows it that she’s over it all and there comes a time when you have to start doing something about it.

For Santana, that time starts now.

[yikesharringrove]

You've given us DadHopper taking care of Billy and learning how to deal with his issues with the help of Steve, buy what about Hopper and maybe Joyce (because Steve's parents always seen like a double dose of bad that feeds off each other) accidentally triggering a panic attack in Steve? Maybe that being when they realize how important they are to Steve with a bit of Billy and/or some of the kids yelling at them to really drive it home?

Under the cut. There’s some mentions of Steve’s terrible parents and Steve having a panic attack. This is based on a lot of my own personal head canons for this tiny boy that I include in most of my works.

Read on ao3

Steve can take being made fun of.

Seriously, look at who is best friends are, his boyfriend. The kids poke at him, Robin is always cracking jokes, and Billy loves teasing him just to get him all riled up.

But they always know what to avoid, how certain deliveries can cut him.

He’s sitting at dinner with Hopper and Joyce and Billy. He was over, just watching a movie with Billy when Joyce arrived, toting a big lasagna and a few side dishes.

Hop had invited her over while El was having dinner with the Wheelers’. (He thought Billy and Steve were going out, but apparently Billy just couldn’t be fucked to leave the house tonight). So now he was kind of on a double date with his son.

Dinner was nice. Steve helped Joyce in the kitchen while Hop and Billy set the table, crashing onto the couch after. Billy grinned and winked at Steve, starting cracking jokes about look at our cute little wifies makin’ us dinner. Get yourself a GOOD woman. Steve threw a piece of garlic bread at him.

Everyone was having a good time, crowded around the small table Hopper had bought after realizing they all needed a lot more space than just he and El did. Joyce asked the boys about school, how Steve’s new job at the ice cream place in the mall was.

But then Hopper turned to Steve, asked him what his plans for after graduation were.

“I was thinking about taking some time off. Working for a little while so I can figure out what I want to do.” Steve was pushing a chunk of tomato around on his plate.

“So you’re big plans are working at the mall?” Steve’s ears were tinged red. He was staring at his plate, the piece of tomato.

“Why does he have to know right now? He doesn’t.” Billy was always quick to defend Steve, but he could tell where this was going, could smell it a mile away. He knew Hop didn’t mean anything by it, was just being the chiding dad wanting to look out for his son, but this was a touchy subject. Steve often got yelled at for not having future plans, for throwing his future away.

“I thought Jonathan told me you were going to work for your dad.” Steve starting taking practiced breaths, glancing up to smile at Joyce before looking back down.

“Uh, that was the, the plan but that’s, it’s not anymore.”

“What do you mean? That would be a better job to tide you over than the mall.” Billy kicked Hop under the table, shaking his head just a little, eyes wide.

“Uh, yes. Yes it would be, but um, since I  don’t, won’t have a, a degree, the offer has been rescinded.” Billy closed his eyes. Figured rescinded was the exact word Mr. Piece-of-Shit Harrington had used after calling his son his idiot for an hour. Billy hadn’t gotten the whole story, Steve didn’t tend to speak clearly when he was sobbing into Billy’s neck.

“Wait, what do you mean you won’t have a degree?”

“Dad-”

“I didn’t get into college. Any college. Not even Tech,” He placed his fork down, blinking rapidly. “Thank you so much for dinner, but I really have to be going.” He gave a weak smile at Billy who stood up with him, following Steve out of the cabin, throwing a glare over his shoulder at Hop.

Joyce began picking up plates.

“I don’t feel good about that, Hop.” She put the plates on the kitchen counter, standing on her toes to look out the window. “Oh no.”

Hop joined her, got a clear view of Billy sitting on the porch steps, Steve draped over him, completely in his lap. He had his face buried in Billy’s shoulder, and they could see the way his back was heaving, shaking as Billy rubbed gently up and down it, one hand playing with Steve’s hair.

“That, uh, that doesn’t look good.” Joyce turned to Hopper.

“I didn’t think we were, were hard on him, I mean maybe you could’ve gone in on him less-”

“I just spent a lot of years dealing with that kid being a brat. I want to make sure he’s good enough for my son. Billy has all of his eggs in that kid’s basket and he’s working at a mall for the foreseeable future.”

“Yeah but Hop, that’s not your call to make. He’s a good kid, he’s good with the kids, and he’s good to Billy, good for him to. Billy can make his own decisions about who’s in his life.”

“But I’m just worried about Steve being dead weight. Billy’s smart I’ve seen his report cards. He could go anywhere, do anything, but he’s gonna end up sitting in Hawkins working minimum wage because he doesn't wanna leave Steve.”

The front door slammed shut.

Billy was standing in the threshold, shoulders drawn tight, fists clenched.

“Jesus Hop, tell me how you really fuckin’ feel.” Hopper sighed.

“Look, you know I like the kid, you’ve just got a brighter future than-”

“You know he told me he sees you guys as his parents. You know why? Because his parents fucking suck.” He came to stand on the other side of the L shaped counter, looking sternly at Hop and Joyce. “Do you remember when he came over because he wanted to tell me he got a B on the essay I helped him write, and you patted him on the back and said good job, kid.” He gave a gruff imitation of Hopper. “You probably don’t, because it was such a nothing moment, but he talked about that for weeks. If he had brought home a B to his own parents, his dad would’ve yelled that he can do better and his mom would’ve taken her Vicodin and went to bed. Because that’s what his house is like. A B is the best grade he’s ever gotten.”

“Well, not for nothing, but there is a grade higher than-” Billy cut Hopper off with what sounded like a fucking growl.

“When Steve was five his teacher wanted to test him for dyslexia and ADHD and all this other shit that, mind you, he obviously fucking has, but his dad wouldn’t let him get tested. He said Steve just needs to work harder and calls Steve a retard and all this shit like every day. School is really fucking hard for him because he can barely fucking read on a good day and no one has ever helped him. He got a B on that paper because I read the book out loud to him, and he could actually understand the meaning of everything because he wasn’t trying to decipher all these letters moving around. And when he didn’t get into college, his dad went off on him, and told him he’s a disappointment, and told him he has one year to work and re-apply and get into college or he’s cut off. And don���t even get me started on his mom.”

Joyce looked like she was about to cry. Hopper felt like shit, felt like there was cold water running down his spine.

“You know she tells Steve she doesn’t love him? Seriously, she did it in front of me one night, like got drunk and starting talking about how she feels literally no emotions towards him, and never has.

He took a deep breath, gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles were white.

“So then tonight, you start in on him, saying a lot of the same shit his dad has been saying to him, except this time, he actually really cares what you think, thinks of you as more a father than his own dad, and you just shattered his fucking world. He’s out on the front porch right now, probably calling himself stupid and trying to pull chunks of his fucking hair out, because that’s his panic attack M.O.” Billy snatched up his and Steve’s jackets, Steve’s keys. “I’m going to take him home and stay the night with him to make sure he doesn’t fucking hurt himself because of this.” He stomped towards the door, turning back one last time. “And I expect and apology.”

It was silent after he left. They could hear him gently coercing Steve into the car, lots of hushed it’s okay Baby and hey, quit pullin’ your hair. They could hear Steve’s car start and pull out of the drive.

“Joyce, I feel like shit.” Her eyes were sympathetic.

“Me too, Hop. I had no idea. Can you imagine having a child and being that cruel?” Hop sat down on the couch, burying his head in his hands.

“And I can’t even fucking adopt him because he’s eighteen.” Joyce was quiet.

“Is that how you solve problems now? Adopting kids?” He looked at her.

“Worked for the other two, didn’t it?” She gave him a Look.

“I’m so embarrassed.” She sat down next to him, tucking herself under his arm. “That poor boy. That actually explains so much.”

“It really does. God, he’s just been crying out for fucking attention this whole time. Why didn’t I see it?” He groaned. “And I called him fucking dead weight, Joyce I’m a terrible person. I fucking remember that essay, because his face fucking lit up, and I thought it was kinda, kinda weird, but I don’t know if he’s ever heard good job before.”

Over the next few weeks, every time Steve was over Hopper tried to be kinder, softer. He had apologized to Steve, told him he didn’t need to figure himself out right now, and told him about how it took Hop three years of wasting away at University to realize he wanted to joint the police force.

The next time he came in with B paper that Billy helped him with, Hopper put it on the fridge, next to El’s list of daily vocab words, a few pictures Jonathan has taken, three of Will’s drawings, and Billy’s quarterly report cards (straight A’s, 4.0 GPA because his son is fucking smart).

“So, I pulled a few strings, got you in here with pretty short notice.” Hop was standing with Steve outside of a plain building. He had taken him into the city, said he needed help with something for Billy.

“What, what do you mean?”

“You’re gonna be tested for dyslexia. The test takes about 6 hours, but afterwards they’re going to know exactly how to help you.”Steve was looking at him with big eyes. Hopper awkwardly handed him a brown paper sack. “Joyce packed you some snacks and a lunch. You’ll get breaks and stuff. And don’t stress yourself out. There’s no right answers, this is just to find the best ways to help.” Hopper led Steve into the building, checking him in at the front desk. Steve was quiet behind him, had been blinking a lot as he looked around the testing center.

“I’m going to stay in the city in case you finish early.” He gave Steve a small smile, squeezing his shoulder. “Good luck.” He went to turn around, but was tackled into a tight hug, Steve squeezing Hopper probably as much as he could. He squeezed the kid back, gently patting his back. When Steve pulled away, he looked Hop int he eye.

“Thank you.”

[lyssismagical]

hi!! can you please do 20 from the irondad list please? thank you 💙💙💙💙

“You don’t seem like yourself tonight.”

Peter had a rough couple months at University between Christmas and Spring Break.

He’d been working himself too hard between Spider-Man, all of his classes, taking on extra credit, working on Stark Industries work from afar, tutoring people for some extra cash to pay for his midnight snacking habits, and trying to squish sleep into that schedule.

And then MJ had broken up with him. Something about long distance not working when neither of them were putting enough effort in. Granted, with Peter’s insane schedule, it was hard to make time to fly out to California from Massachusetts.

He understood why she was upset with the state of their relationship. The time difference paired with their busy schedules made talking nearly impossible. They’d have conversations spanning a week, only texting each other back every like twelve hours. They hadn’t called each other in over a month when MJ got a hold of him and said she couldn’t do it anymore.

So when he finally makes it down to the cabin for his spring break, after spending the first couple days in Ned’s dorm crying over his homework, and then spending a full day swinging around Queens, he finally gets to the cabin.

Immediately, Morgan is throwing herself into his arms, grinning brightly up at him.

“Hey, Momo, it’s been a little while, huh?” he says, hoping he doesn’t look like the disaster he feels like. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Petey! You’re never allowed to leave again!” she squeals as he scoops her into his arms, settling her against his hip before stepping across the threshold into the homey cabin.

He drops his bags by the door, kicking it shut behind him, and quickly dropping onto the couch on his back with Morgan sitting on his stomach.

“Petey’s tired?” Morgan asks, poking his cheek.

Eyes drifting shut of their own accord, he nods. “Yeah, Mo, Petey’s tired. You wanna pick a movie to watch? There’s still a few hours until dinner time.”

Morgan’s nose crinkle, turning her head. “Daddy!”

Peter winces as her shout causes his headache to throb a bit more prominently. He chalks the headache up to the exhaustion and the fact that he’d been crying on and off for the past four days straight.

“Hey, kiddos,” Tony murmurs, somehow knowing to keep his voice low as he walks into the living room, offering a soft smile. “You doing alright, kid?”

“Tired,” Peter explains shortly, tossing an arm over his eyes.

Tony huffs out a quiet laugh and helps shift Morgan so most of her weight is on the couch, not on Peter.

“Pick out a movie and get some rest. We’ll wake you for dinner, alright?”

“Mm.” Is Peter’s intellectually reply.

Morgan puts on Lady and the Tramp, which is probably one of the most romantic Disney movies aside from the princess ones, so Peter spends the whole movie trying to push back tears instead of sleeping like he’s meant to.

When Tony comes to ‘wake him up’ a few hours later, the older man’s face instantly falls into confusion and worry.

“Go wash up for dinner, Morgan,” Tony instructs, waiting until Morgan’s gone before he settles in beside Peter, pressing the back of his hand to Peter’s forehead. “You okay, bud?”

“Not sick,” Peter mumbles, hiding his face in Tony’s shirt.

“You don’t seem like yourself tonight.” Tony sweeps back Peter’s overgrown curls, pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “You wanna talk about anything?”

Trying his best not to let anymore tears fall, Peter admits the truth. “MJ broke up with me. Said the long distance was too hard when neither of us were putting in enough effort. She said it would be better if we stopped pretending.”

“Oh, buddy,” Tony murmurs sympathetically, pressing another kiss to Peter’s forehead. “You want a pep talk or are you okay wallowing for a little bit?”

Peter shrugs noncommittally. “I’ve been wallowing for four days… I think I’m just tired.”

“Yeah, I know you like to pretend you’re cool carrying everything on your shoulders, and I don’t know why you won’t just talk to us, because I had to hear from May who heard from Ned’s mom who heard from Ned, that you were taking on a little more than you could chew?”

Shrugging again, Peter curls a little tighter to Tony’s side. “I just really wanna make you proud.”

“You could fail every single one of your classes, and I’d still be proud, Pete. You could drop out of MIT, hang up the spider suit, and back out of taking over SI, and I’d still be so incredibly proud of you, kid.”

Pepper appears in the doorway, a soft smile on her face. “Not to eavesdrop, but you should ask Rhodey about some of the shit Tony got into in University. There’s nothing you could do that could ever come close to how many bad decisions Tony made.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well… Between all my classes and Spider-Man and I’ve been taking on extra-credit to make sure my GPA stays high, and I’ve been helping with SI things, and I’ve been tutoring a few students on the weekend… I just- I’m just tired.”

“You have the rest of the week to catch up on sleep, kiddo. And then, let us help you, okay? That’s what we’re here for. Homework help, deadline managing, nice weekends to relax whenever you need them,” Tony says, tugging Peter close. “What do you say to a vacation next time you have a long break? You, me, Morgan, Pep, May, Happy, and Ned? Wherever you want, you’ve got it, okay?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

[ellewritesathing]

Call Me, Beep Me    2

Summary: A series of texts from your dearly beloved Beacon Hills dumbasses

Masterlist    Prev. | Part 2

A/N: here’s part two of a series no one asked for

Danny Māhealani created Group Chat: Choices for Life Project Monday, 22 August 15:08, PDT

Danny Māhealani added Lydia Martin Danny Māhealani added Jackson Whittemore Danny Māhealani added Allison Argent Danny Māhealani added Scott McCall

Danny: hey everyone. we didn’t a lot of time to talk about the assignment and assign roles so i thought i’d make a group chat for us to discuss it all 

Lydia: I can proof-read everyone’s assignments and fix any mistakes 

Allison: i can work with scott to manage our finances

Scott: 👍

Danny: i can bring snacks when we have group sessions

Jackson: I’ll present since I obviously have the best public speaking voice. 

Several people are typing…

Lydia: No, you don’t

Allison: fuck you

Danny: sure you do, jackson

Scott: I am very uncomfortable right now

--

Cora Hale created Group Chat: If You Lower My GPA I Will Hurt You Monday, 22 August 23:27, PDT

Cora Hale added Erica Reyes Cora Hale added Vernon Boyd Cora Hale added Isaac Lahey Cora Hale added Styles Stalinska

Cora: Listen up, sluts, I’m not going to summer school again so you guys are going to pull your weight or else. 

Styles: not that that wasn’t a totally great and inspiring introduction but that’s not my name

Styles Stalinska has set their nickname to Stiles Stilinski

Stiles: much better

Boyd: Who wants what role in the family? 

Erica: since cora is obviously the breadwinner, I want to be her trophy wife

Isaac: No way! Cora and Boyd should be our parents

Stiles: am i the only one who thinks the person that had to go to summer school probably shouldn’t be in charge? 

Cora: Do you want to be in charge? 

Stiles: god no

Cora: Then I’m in charge. Erica, you can be my wife

Erica: hell yeah. we’re a proud same sex couple with one amazing child and two others 

Stiles: am i the amazing child? 

Erica: no. get on top of the fridge

Isaac: This house is a fuc k i n g  n i g h t m a r e

Cora: It’s not you either. 

Boyd: :)

--

Lydia Martin > Allison Argent Tuesday, 23 August 17:30, PDT

Lydia shared an event Lydia: I know you’ve got ‘family night’ every Friday, but here’s the details for my party in case you want to be a good friend and sneak out 💕

Allison: thanks but my family is pretty strict about commitments

Lydia: You can bring Scott if you want

Allison: … i’ll see what i can do

Lydia: There’s my girl! We can shopping after school for something to wear

Allison: thanks lydia. you’re a pretty good friend

Lydia: Duh

--

Allison Argent > Scott McCall Tuesday, 23 August 17:57, PDT

[outgoing call; 20:27]

Allison: let me know if you can make it, okay?

Scott: Yeah, of course  

--

Scott McCall > Stiles Tuesday, 23 August 18:18, PDT

Scott: I think I’m having a heart attack

Stiles: ??

Scott: Allison just invited me to a party

Stiles: as a date?

Scott: I don’t know. I think so. Do you wanna come with me??

Stiles: come with you … on your date?

Scott: I don’t know if it’s a date yet

Scott: But I do know that Lydia will be there

Stiles: a party you say?? i’d love to :))

--

Scott McCall > Stiles Friday, 26 August 15:24, PDT

Scott: Hey man, what shirt should I wear to the party? I was thinking either the one I wore to your dad’s Christmas party or the one my mom got me for my birthday last year

Scott: Come on, you aren’t still mad about the group project thing? 

Stiles: CoMe On, YoU aReN’t StIlL mAd AbOuT tHe GrOuP pRoJeCt ThInG

Scott: It wasn’t my fault! Allison took my hand and you know I can’t think when she does that

Stiles: yeah but now i’m stuck with cora freaking hale and her band of weirdos

Scott: They can’t be that bad

Stiles: at our study session yesterday, erica asked me if i’d rather wear a skin suit or be a skin suit

Scott: Oh

Stiles: and that weird kid from lacrosse? lahey? he wore a scarf. it’s fucking august man

Scott: OH 

Scott: Well, I mean, if you want you could invite them to the party and try to get to know them better? I’m sure they won’t seem so bad if you spend some time with them

Stiles: fine but i’m not gonna be happy about it 

--

Group Chat: If You Lower My GPA I Will Hurt You Friday, 26 August 15:47, PDT

Stiles shared an event  Stiles: don’t do anything weird and don’t wear a scarf

Isaac: ??

Erica: hell yeah can’t wait to snoop through their medicine cabinets

Stiles: NO

Erica: :(

Boyd: Why are you inviting us? It’s last minute and you don’t even like us

Stiles: i like you guys fine

Isaac: you left the meeting early yesterday and when we asked where you were going you said ‘to hang out with people i actually like’ 

Stiles: yeah but i shot you some finger guns 

Cora: We’ll be there. Derek’s being an ass anyway 

Stiles: derek? 

Cora: My brother

Erica: her very hot brother

Boyd: Can we please not talk about Derek’s abs again? That was uncomfortable 

Erica: then we’ll talk about his ASS

Isaac: YEAH 

Isaac: wait what? 

--

Allison Argent > Scott McCall  Friday, 26 August 23:57, PDT

Allison: hey i had a really good time tonight :) 

Scott: I did too :) 

Scott: Until you had to leave, I mean

Allison: yeah … sorry about that

Scott: Is everything okay with your family? 

Allison: oh yeah, they’re just freakishly overprotective. it’s nothing

Scott: You sure? I don’t want to pry or anything but I’m here if you ever need to talk

Allison: thanks scott. you’re a really good guy 

Allison: if you’re not sick of me already, maybe we could grab lunch after school one day? 

Scott: It’s a date

Scott: Wait, uh, not like a date date. Not if you don’t want it to be

Allison: i want it to be

Scott: Uh sorry if this is a dumb question but uh …

Scott: Be what? 

Allison: a date

Scott: Oh

Allison: unless you don’t want to? 

Scott: No, I want to. 

Scott: Like a lot

Allison: cool :) 

Scott: Cool :)

--

Stiles Stilinski > Love of My Life Lydia Martin Friday, 26 August 23:58

Stiles: hey, i hope you don’t mind but scott gave me your number cause i left my jacket at your house

Love of My Life Lydia Martin: Who is this?

Stiles: stiles … 

Love of My Life Lydia Martin: What the hell is a Stiles?

Stiles: the guy jackson laughed at when he walked into your glass door 

Love of My Life Lydia Martin: Oh! Yeah, I’ve got your jacket but it still has the punch stains

Stiles: that’s fine. can i come by in the morning and pick it up? 

Love of My Life Lydia Martin: Sure

Love of My Life Lydia Martin: You were here with Cora Hale, right? 

Stiles: oh my god did she like steal your hairbrush your something? 

Love of My Life Lydia Martin: What? No

Stiles: that’s a relief

Stiles: wait why are you asking about cora??

Love of My Life Lydia Martin: No reason. Come around at 11 if you still want your jacket.

[labyrinth-runner]

How about Obidala, with 43? 💕

50 Days of Fics: Day 4

Ooooo this one is a good prompt, anon! It actually hit a little too close to home lol. I was my class’ Valedictorian and we almost moved that year, but the reason they didn’t was because I needed to stay at my school to keep my ranking.

Prompt: My family moves in the middle of my senior year of high school and now I’m the first real threat to you for valedictorian and you make it very clear that you’re going to do anything to win but I haven’t worked this hard to lose it all now.

“Alright class of 2020, turn those tassels!” Padmé exclaimed as she looked out at the sea of her classmates from the stage. Her face beamed with pride as she took her hat and threw it into the air. Her eyes locked with her Salutatorian and they shared a smile. It hadn’t always been like this.

Padmé groaned as she looked at the listings outside the principal’s office. She checked it every Monday without fail to see if the listings had changed. She was still in first place. Good, she thought. Her eyes trailed the list. Well, that’s interesting... the new kid had been steadily climbing the ranks since he got there. 

At first, she hadn’t thought much of it. Surely it was too late for him to be a threat. She had been working her entire life for the title of Valedictorian. She had been getting A’s since grade school. Her 8th grade year book listed her as “Most Likely to Succeed,” and Maker as her witness, she was going to. But this boy... this once insignificant boy was now closing in. He had started at the bottom, and now two months into his arrival he was already in the top ten and closing in fast. The rest of her classmates weren’t close enough to her GPA to be much of a threat, not with the straight A’s she’d been getting in all her AP classes. Sure, she’d taken them because she had wanted to, but the fact that they were weighted more and boosted her GPA was a nice bonus. 

No, if this boy had risen so fast, he was a threat, an unknown threat, but a threat all the same. She’d have to have a little talk with him.

Padmé found him in the library, his brown glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose. His sweater was rolled up to his elbows, and he looked like he was engrossed in whatever book he was reading.

  Not for long, she thought. She gracefully slid into the seat across from him and cleared her throat.

“Hello there,” the boy replied, looking up at her through bangs that had flopped onto his face. His head was propped up by his hand.

“Kenobi,” Padmé replied. “I’m going to need you to cease and desist.”

“Excuse me?” Obi-Wan asked, his brow crinkled in confusion.

“You heard me,” Padmé responded. “I haven’t worked twelve years to get where I am now, just to have some nobody show up out of nowhere my senior year and steal the title of valedictorian from under my nose. I won’t stand for it.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in indignation. “No.”

“No?” 

“No,” Obi-Wan shot back. “I left my school, losing my title to get thrown into a new school halfway through my senior year. Everyone else has friends, they know their place. By the time I figure out what mine is, we’ll be graduating. My grades are the only thing I can control. They’re the only thing I have.”

“You can’t be serious,” Padmé deadpanned.

“Oh, darling, but I am.” He flipped his book close, holding it to his chest as he got up. “May the best man win.” 

Padmé scoffed as he walked away from her. “Oh, it’s on!”

“Shhh!” the library said, shooting her a look.

The next few months past by in a blur of exams and papers. She stood in front of the list on yet another Monday. This time, she didn’t feel satisfaction. She felt despair. Kenobi had made it to second place, and he was only a few decimal points off from her GPA. She would lose. She felt herself deflate as Kenobi came over to look at the list.

“I’m coming for you, Senator,” Kenobi joked. Padmé had earned the nickname due to her shrewd politics. She had been class President for the past three years, but gave it up to focus on her grades, choosing instead to run as class representative to the school council.

“Not today, Kenobi,” she sighed, heading off towards her locker. She had given up so much her senior year to focus on her studies. Trim the fat, she had told herself. More like trim the fun. At the time it had seemed worth it, because she’d have that title. She’d have earned it. Colleges would want her, and she could move on, leaving high school in the rear-view mirror. But now? Now with only a few weeks left of the school year, she would have nothing to show for it. Her senior year would have been a waste.

Obi-Wan looked over at the list, and then over at Padmé. Her usually take-on-the-world posture was gone. She looked so small... and alone, he realized. Everyone else came into school on Monday morning and went straight to the cafeteria to talk to their friends about what they’d gotten up to that weekend, but not Padmé. Padmé went straight for the list. It was almost like... she hadn’t done anything exciting... or worse... she didn’t have any friends. Sure, he’d seen her talking to people in class about various things, but she always went home alone. 

Obi-Wan groaned. He was such an idiot. Sure, he’d come late into the year, but he’d still had made friends. He’d balanced being able to have friends and getting grades, but Padmé was so one-track when it came to wanting to be Valedictorian, that she must’ve stopped caring about everything else. It wasn’t too late, though. There were still some events of senior year he could salvage for her, like prom.

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan said softly as he came to stop at her locker. He couldn’t see her face behind the door, but he could hear her sniffling.

“What? Come to gloat some more?” Padmé bit out.

“Actually, no,” Obi-Wan sighed.

Padmé closed the door to her locker and looked at him. Her eyes were red. “What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asked with a hopeful smile. 

“Are you asking me out of pity?” She shot back.

“No, I’m asking you because I don’t have a date yet,” Obi-Wan replied. But, it was partly pity.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Pick me up Friday at seven,” she said before walking away.

Obi-Wan leaned against the locker slack-jawed. Had that really just happened? Did he just ask his nemesis to prom? And worse, was he actually looking forward to it? His heart skipped a beat.

The week went by fast and Obi-Wan found himself fidgeting on Padmé’s front porch, mentally debating on whether or not to ring the bell. The corsage in his hand matched his tie, but he was worried if it would be up to her standards. His eyes squinted in confusion. Since when did he care about what she thought? He shook his head, deciding to ring the bell before he talked himself out of it.

“Padmé, honey, your date is here!” Her mother yelled as he waited for her in the foyer. 

He heard footsteps, heels on wood, as she scurried towards the stairs. 

“Coming, mother!” she exclaimed as she went to rush down the stairs.

 However, she slowed as she saw him. She thought he looked handsome in his suit, his eyes matching the color of his tie, making them seem impossibly brighter. He had left his glasses at home, swapping them for contacts. He hadn’t wanted to ruin her photos with the glare. He had even shaved the usual stubble he had been trying to grow into a beard. Padmé’s voice caught in her throat at the sight and butterflies entered her stomach.

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath as she made her way to the bottom of the stairs. He went over to take her hand, placing a chaste kiss to her knuckles. 

“Darling, you look stunning,” he said as he righted himself, and he meant every word. She was wearing a blue off-the-shoulder gown that billowed out from her waist like water cascading down a cliff. Her hair was an array of curls, pulled back out of her face. Oh, how he wanted to know what they felt like in his hands. He pulled out the corsage and slid it up her wrist before meeting her eyes. 

She could drown in the depths of his eyes. She didn’t think she could ever see him as anything but an usurper, but here he was, making her heart skip a beat against her permission. 

“Shall we?” Obi-Wan asked, offering her his arm. She slipped her hand through it, and they were off.

It was the best night of her life. He made her laugh like no one ever had, and she could actually have an intelligent conversation with him. It almost made her forget about the rankings. Almost. As they danced to a particularly slow song, she started to slip back into her head, wondering what she could possibly do to boost her grade.

“Darling, I’ve lost you,” Obi-Wan said softly, rubbing his thumb against her cheek.

“Sorry, Obi-Wan,” she said, breaking herself from her reverie.

“Is it about the ranking?” he murmured.

She nodded, resting her head against his shoulder. “I just... I’ve worked so hard.” She quickly added,  “Not that you haven’t.”  

“But, you’ve given up so much for it, right?” Obi-Wan sighed, “Just for some nobody to take it from under your nose.”

“You’re making it hard to hate you,” she replied with a small smile.

“Is that so?” He raised a brow.

“You’re not a nobody,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

“Oh? And what am I to you?” He asked, spinning her out before holding her against him.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “My equal,” she sighed, “And if I had to lose to someone, I’m okay that it’s you.”

“Oh, you’re not going to lose to anyone,” he said with a small knowing smile.

She scrunched her nose, trying to think of what he could mean by that. They hadn’t had anything this week that could change the grades that much except their pop quiz in physics. Her eyes widened in realization. “You didn't!”

“Didn’t what?” Obi-Wan smirked, “Didn’t throw a pop quiz so that a woman I admire could achieve her dreams? Definitely not. I answered that to the best of my ability. However, I didn’t study for the subject this week like I normally would have. Therefore, I didn’t throw anything. I just wasn’t as prepared.”

Padmé bit her lip. “But you wanted that.”

“Well, this week I came to the conclusion that there was something else that I want more,” he smiled as he turned her in his arms so that they were facing each other. He gently cupped her face, using his thumb to move an errant curl from her cheek.

“What’s that?” She asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. She subconsciously leaned into his touch.

“You,” Obi-Wan whispered, closing the gap between them to kiss her. He meant it. He had competed with her these last few months, and her drive always impressed him. She became someone he admired and respected. 

Padmé’s eyes gently fluttered closed as she fell into the kiss. Her hands slid up to wrap around his neck. She had a big smile on her face as he pulled away at the behest of a chaperone who had cleared their throat at the public display of affection. Padmé rested her head back onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder, dancing the rest of the night away in his arms.

The celebration died down and the crowd started to disperse. Padmé bent down to pick up her cap that had landed in the grass nearby.

“You got what you wanted,” Obi-Wan replied as he came up and hugged her from behind.

“And more,” she teased.

“Oh? And more?” Obi-Wan chuckled as he picked her up and spun her around.

“Obi!” She laughed as her surroundings blurred. “Put me down!”

Obi-Wan slowed down, holding onto her as she slid down his chest til her feet touched solid ground.

“What about you?” She asked, breathless. “Did you get what you wanted?”

Obi-Wan smiled down at her, cupping her cheek. “And more, darling,” he replied softly. “So much more.”

[jwnbwnjwn]

Entry 8 (12.20.2020)

 Well, it’s been a while since I’ve posted an entry on here. My last one was back in September, and man a lot has happened since. First off, My sleeping schedule has been messed up for the past couple of days, and in a bit I’ll get to why. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it in any of the last posts but, if I didn’t then my goal for the last couple of months has been to get on a (keto) diet and lose some weight, and I’m here to tell you I still haven’t, I haven’t even stuck to a diet for that matter. The only diet I’ve had has consisted of take out and midnight snacks. Anyways, now let’s get down to business. I went ahead and read my latest blog post before this and I laughed at the fact that I said I was starting a diet, yeah that never happened. Im happily at 160 lbs at the moment (not really happy about it but oh well). 

I mean covid-19 is still going on, its kinda spiking then calming down, spiking again, and its just this whole repeating situation. Everyone's still wearing and masks and doing everything to be safe, although I think my towns cases are starting to go down. It is around Christmas time so they’re starting to decorate everything, all the parks and stuff; so hopefully that doesn't spike the numbers up again. When going out though I still have to be careful, I can’t catch covid and give it to my loved ones, and I would rather not make history and get sick. 

I guess I should start here. I wish my life was still the same as it was during my last entry. I really do. I wouldn’t have known what I do now and I would’ve just been at peace, happily living my life and struggling with school. I ended up getting a D in that biology course, and dropping that math and history course. Yeah, it was a pretty shitty school year tbh. I’ve never been that lazy and unmotivated when it comes to school but man, this fall year really took a toll on me because I legit did nothing all year. In result of it, my gpa went to absolute shit and down to a 2.8. I now gotta make that up during the summer and try to get it as high as i possibly can. I just finished my second fall semester so I’ve been on Christmas break for about a week now, but honestly this break feels so lazy and gross. I am reading my last entry to see what I can catch everyone up on, as things have changed drastically. I mean my friendships are still fine, I still keep in contact with seatbelt and ice and maria. I keep in contact with them almost daily honestly. About my relationship, thats where I wish things were the way they were three months ago. Without going over too much detail, a girl reached out to me and let me know her boyfriend and Mr. were trading girls nudes again. Honestly hearing this a second time broke my heart, but I really didnt have much of a reaction to it. It hurts every here and there, but I guess im forcing myself to open my heart and forgive and forget so I can go ahead and move on already. Mr. and I are in a certain situation trying to avoid law enf*rc*m*nt so things have been kind of hard recently. He’s been seeing me many times this week just because of the fear itself that one day might be his last time to see me, but I think things are starting to cool down with our/his situation, so hopefully he’s not walking on eggshells too longer, because seeing him worried makes me worried and vice versa. He’s looking into going to therapy and having a closer relationship between him and god, in order to get rid of his old ways and make himself into the better person he needs to become. I can’t really get into details about the situation on here as it legit would be the most dumbest thing I could possibly do, but in result of getting closure about it, he told me he was planning on purposing in the near future, like before 2021 is over - but then he had to go fuck it up and put that on hold. After talking about it we’re going to have to attend counseling once again, but in hopes of fixing our relationship and getting closer again. I love him a lot, I do, but man he is one dumb ass person. I really hope and pray he gets his stuff together, because I really do want to spend the rest of my life with him. I mean, I guess we’re kind of in an awkward part in our relationship, but its honestly because of the situation we’re in, so we just have to work through this and rebuild the trust he ruined. I know he’s going to be going to individual counseling for sure, but I have a feeling that’s just going to turn into couples counseling the way it happened the first time. I hope I can get myself to go into counseling for myself as well, because man, I really do want to work through these issues I have deep down inside of me, but I can’t find the courage I need at the moment - maybe after all of this is done I will. Mr.’s dad is still really sick, but im still praying to god and the heavens above he gets better. I’ve been talking to my dad a lot and my relationship has been improving, while my moms and I’s is kind of going backwards slowly. About those two discord friends, I dont know why I put “crunch” as one of them. I forgot what his first nickname was, but I know it wasn crunch. I mean his name is cesar, so i guess i got mixed up lol but yeah i’m not friends with c*sar and shr*mp anymore. I mean I got really close with him, and I did consider im an important person in my life, until one day I logged onto Discord to see he kicked me out of the server and blocked me, which eventually resulted in everyone from the server blocking me and deleting me off roblox so, I pretty much had no say in it. There wasn't even a reason TO block me, I legit just logged on randomly and was blocked. Although I found out through someone else who was also in the server before he himself blocked me that apparently I was jealous of shr*mp and I guess calling c*sar manipulative got him upset and thinking so he blocked me lmao. Anyways, because of this I dont really play Roblox that often anymore, but instead I watch anime now. Currently waiting on AOT’s new episode releasing today so, thats something exciting to look forward to. I cant wait for christmas just so i can see the look on my siblings face when they see what I got them lol. I also got Mr. a chain bracelet, so I hope he likes it and actally wears it. There’s not really much else except being on eggshells with Mr. and wasting my life away. I’ll keep you guys updated. I’ll try to post on here more often.

Ended this at 12.20.2020 at 8:27 AM

-jen

[snarkystjames]

Listen To Your Heart || St. Berry

Date: December 13th. Late afternoon

Location: McKinley High School & Rachel’s house

Starring: Rachel Berry @starberrycupcake & Jesse St. James

Notes:  Jesse shows up at McKinley after hearing Rachel is banned from seeing her boyfriend. He offers to help her study.

Warnings: partial song fic bc it’s glee (gross)

Rachel Berry: 

Rachel had begun the year determined and not distracted by anything and now here she was, almost the end of the first semester of her senior year completely consumed with something other than the future. It had felt so good to be so focused on Hunter and absolutely nothing else but now that she was grounded until her grades were up, she was frustrated with herself. She didn’t regret being with Hunter in the least bit. She’d had the best, most wild three months of her entire life and she wasn’t about to regret any of it because of school. She would just have to pull herself together and quickly get her grades up and she and Hunter would be off to starting their future in no time. 

Her teachers were seemingly exasperated with her constant requests for extra credit and make-up work so she could hopefully pull her grade up before her GPA dropped significantly. Though reluctant, they still gave her a much needed chance and she knew that if she could just get it all done she would be set and she could see Hunter on her birthday without having to sneak around. It had only been a couple of days but knowing she couldn’t see Hunter made her want to see him even more.

Rachel was just finishing up glee club when she sent a text to her boyfriend, letting him know she was finally out of class and was thinking of him when she bumped into a familiar face right outside the door, almost knocking her phone out of her hand. “Oh! Jesse!” She glanced around to make sure her glee peers were nowhere to be found. “If any of the New Directions see you, they’re going to flip out on me.” She let her eyes trail up to his face, her demeanor softening a bit. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

Jesse St. James:

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to see you, of course,” Jesse replied with his usual confident demeanor. He had been waiting right outside and as soon as he’d seen Rachel come out of the room, he was right in front of her. He didn’t care whether or not any of the other New Directions’ kids would’ve spotted him. “I’m not here to spy but you were amazing in that last number-- someone might want to tell Finn that he was a little pitchy on the last refrain because he probably doesn’t even realize.”

Jesse smoothed out the front of his jacket, playing with the ends of his chiffon scarf for just a moment before smiling at Rachel. “Vocal Adrenaline is taking a break from rehearsals today-- a rarity-- so I thought it'd be the perfect opportunity to see you. Is your boyfriend going to mind if I'm here to see you?"

Rachel Berry:

Rachel felt a little apprehensive about seeing Jesse at all much less alone, especially considering the smile that involuntary spread across her face at the way he told her he was there for her. Their history was complicated and Jesse had a great track record of making her feel on top of the world and then ripping the rug out from under her. For some reason, however, she trusted him each time. Even now despite her apprehension she could feel the trust. 

Rachel chuckled, shaking her head. “Finn was fine, he’ll be ready by competition. We did win Sectionals after all.” A cheeky grin spread across her face as she looked at her former lover but it quickly faded when he mentioned Hunter. She felt mildly uncomfortable in that moment, thinking she should maybe tell Hunter about this little run in. “I’m sure Hunter wouldn’t be thrilled to know you’re here, especially considering that I’m grounded and not even allowed to see him.”

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Rachel glances around again before sighing. He had come all this way to see her. “I can’t really hang out too long because my dads will be home in a couple of hours and I’m supposed to be home when they get there…” she offered, letting him know that if he wanted, she could make the time for him.

Jesse St. James:

“Congratulations on the Sectionals win, by the way. It’ll be fun to see you and your boyfriend go head-to-head at Regionals; I’m sure we’ll be seeing you at Nationals again this year,” Jesse grinned. Upon hearing that she and Hunter were banned from seeing each other due to her being grounded, an idea popped into his head. Any time an opportunity presented itself to Jesse, he was raring to grasp it at first chance. 

“So let’s go to your house,” Jesse suggested, completely unbothered with the fact that he just invited himself over to Rachel’s house. “I’m sure your dads will be supportive of you getting homework help from me; I did go to college, after all.” Of course he intentionally left out the fact that he’d dropped out because he didn’t actually go to his classes. But that wasn’t a necessary detail right now.

Rachel Berry:

“Thank you,” Rachel grinned. “It will be a lot of fun because he’s as competitive as I am. That is if the Warblers even let him stay long enough.” She rolled her eyes, sighing as she thought of all the drama that Hunter had been through so far this year. “Of course I’ll be at Nationals. I have to win, it’s crucial to my reputation-- if I can start out in the Broadway scene as a national show choir champion it’ll be extremely helpful in getting the respect that I deserve.” 

Rachel raised her eyebrows at how forward Jesse was, though it shouldn’t have come as such a shock. “Jes, what makes you think I can have anyone over if I can’t have my boyfriend over?” She asked him, nodding her head towards the way she would begin to walk. “Wait, you want to help me with my homework?” She giggled. “Do you even know anything about Trigonometry?” Rachel couldn’t remember the last time - if there was ever a time - that Jesse even talked about homework or anything that wasn’t related to show choir or Broadway.  “I have some make-up homework- I actually could use help on it.” She said as she approached her locker, opening it up to grab the homework she needed to take home. “I had thought about sneaking out to Westerville but I don’t really have a way to get there and back before LeRoy and Hiram get home so..” She shrugged. 

Jesse St. James:

As Rachel walked towards her locker, Jesse accompanied her and met her pace. “Yeah, I’m great at math,” he boasted, though he honestly couldn’t say what he knew what trigonometry even looked like. “It’s just like, adding and subtracting stuff, right? How hard could it be?” At the mention of her going off to Westerville, Jesse nibbled on the inside of his cheek. He wanted to say something about how that was a bad idea and Hunter was causing her to neglect her studies but he thought it wiser to keep his mouth shut.

“Oh, before I forget,” he spoke up as she rummaged through her locker for her things. He pulled out a slim jewelry gift box, held closed by a simple gold ribbon. “I brought you your birthday present in case we don’t see each other before then. I figured you could use the pick-me-up after being grounded, too.” He handed off the box, giving her an expectant look for her to open it now. He looked happy and hopeful as she opened it to reveal a necklace with a small gold star charm.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel shook her head as a giggle fell from her lips. She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not but she was among towards him being serious which was no help to her. Still, it would be nice to have the company for a little bit. She was about to speak again when Jesse interrupted her by pulling out the small jewelry box. 

“What’s this?” A grin spread from ear to ear as she closed her locker and took the gift from him. When she opened it up to reveal the golden star, Rachel’s stomach flipped. “Oh, Jes…” her grin faltered a little bit as the weight of the gift settled in her. It was incredibly sweet and it made her heart skip a beat. “You shouldn’t have, I can’t accept this..” she tried weakly to deny his thoughtful gift. “It’s too much.” Her brown eyes looked up to meet his, her voice soft. 

Jesse St. James: 

“Stop it, it’s your birthday gift,” Jesse pushed, taking the gift box from her and stepping behind her. “A girl such as yourself should have the best accessories to accentuate your beauty and talent.” He helped to put it around her neck and once he was done, he returned to stand in front of her to get a good look. “See? It looks perfect.” You look perfect.

So it was probably pretty obvious to everyone that Jesse still had feelings for Rachel but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do nice things for her-- especially since the gift was for her birthday. With Hunter out of the way for the time being, he knew this was his chance to get back in Rachel’s good graces and establish himself as her close friend. “So? Are we going back to your place to study?”

Rachel Warbler:

Rachel bit down on her lip as Jesse moved to slip the necklace around her neck, placing her hand on the small gold star that now rested on the base of her neck. It was the sweetest gift anyone had ever given her. When he came back to get a look at her, a blush painted her cheeks at his words. Shaking her head gently, Rachel smiled at him. “Thanks, Jesse. I really love it.” She felt the warmth in her cheeks spreading down her neck, the effect he had on her was obvious and she was regrettably transparent. 

When Jesse suggested going to her house, she let out a soft sigh, checking the time. “I suppose, but you have to leave at five. You can’t be there when my dads get home, I’m walking a fine line and I don’t want to not see Hunter until we graduate.” She explained as she gathered her things, closing up her locker for the day. Hunter. She again felt compelled to let Hunter know that Jesse had showed up. “And you have to help me with my homework to some extent- no distractions.” Rachel pulled out her phone as she led the way to leave the school, sending a text to Hunter to give him the heads up that Jesse showed up at McKinley and was giving her a ride home. “Can I get a ride home?” She asked Jesse, glancing over at him. “My dads dropped me off and I’m supposed to get a ride from Kurt but there’s no need for him to go out of his way since you’re here.” She smiled.

Jesse St. James:

Jesse grinned ear to ear when Rachel finally agreed to him coming over. Even if it was a few hours, he’d take what he could get. “Yeah, of course. My Range Rover is parked right over here,” he gestured in the direction of his car once they were outside. “I promise I won’t do anything to distract you but I also wouldn’t be opposed to singing with you if you wanted; it’s been a while since we’ve had a duet together. You know our voices sound phenomenal together.”

When they both got into the car, Jesse’s phone connected via bluetooth and he scrolled through his music, looking for the perfect song for such an occasion. He knew the Rachel Berry he loved-- who also loved him-- was in there somewhere… He just needed to coax her out. The opening melody of Roxette’s Listen To Your Heart started playing over the speakers as Jesse started driving out of the parking lot and towards Rachel’s home.

Rachel Berry:

A smile spread across Rachel’s face when Jesse suggested singing with her. It had been a bit since they’d had the pleasure of singing together and she would be lying to herself and everyone else if she said they didn’t fit together vocally. He was the only person that could ever keep up with her talent. That is, until she met Hunter. “I suppose a harmless duet wouldn’t hurt.” She said as she got into his car, settling in and buckling her seatbelt. 

When she heard the first note of the song flow through the speakers, her stomach clenched and she glanced over at Jesse, a small grin tugging at her lips. She knew the song and she knew it well, obviously. His choice of song wasn’t lost on her and she knew that she shouldn’t lead him on-- but she also couldn’t resist a chance to belt out one of her most favorite classics.  Shifting in her seat a little, she folded her hands in her lap, closing her eyes.

I know there's something in the wake of your smile I get a notion from the look in your eyes, yeah You've built a love but that love falls apart Your little piece of Heaven turns too dark

Jesse St. James:

Jesse had known that Rachel couldn’t resist this song. When she started singing in that crystal-clear voice that Jesse adored so much, he couldn’t help but to smile and nod his head. He kept his eyes on the road but glanced over to her whenever he had the chance. These days, it was rare for him to hear Rachel singing unless it was at a competition. Singing with her was an even rarer occurrence.

When the next verse started, he sang along with her. Just like the first time they sang Hello together in the music library those years ago, their voices melted together beautifully.

Listen to your heart

When he's calling for you

Listen to your heart

There's nothing else you can do

While stopped at a red light, Jesse looked over to her and when he caught her gaze, smiled brightly at them. Regardless if on a big stage, in the choir room, or doing a little karaoke in the car, Jesse always enjoyed singing with her.

Rachel Berry:

When Jesse’s voice melted with hers during the chorus, Rachel couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on her face, looking over to Jesse to catch his eye when they were stopped. 

Sometimes you wonder if this fight is worthwhile

The precious moments are all lost in the tide, yeah

They're swept away and nothing is what is seems

The feeling of belonging to your dreams

She kept her eyes on Jesse as she sang with him, giving it her all as usual. She could feel something crawling up from the depths of her heart, something that was supposed to be shoved deep down to never be touched again. It felt good to sing with Jesse but for a brief moment as she looked to the man next to her she saw Hunter- the mirage taking her breath for a split second. Rachel shook her head, she sang with other people all of the time, it didn’t mean anything because it was Jesse.

The only man who’d ever come close to knowing her as much as Hunter did.

Jesse St. James:

Jesse was in high spirits as they continued to harmonize through the song. He liked the way she looked at him when they sang to each other. After the song eventually came to an end, Jesse turned down the volume as the next track played.

“Still as amazing as always; it’s a wonder why you’re not already on the fast track to Broadway,” he said to her. They were just a few blocks away from her house by now. “It’s too bad you can’t pass all your classes by just singing… You’d be valedictorian.”

When they pulled up to the house, Jesse parked his car in the driveway. It’d been a little while since he’d been over to her house-- not since when they were still dating each other. It almost felt like stepping into a timewarp, into the past.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel blushed again for the second time that day when Jesse complimented her, giggling softly. “That’s really sweet.” She said, looking over at him as he parked. “What about you, though? You’re equally as talented as I am...if not more so. You shouldn’t be here in Ohio-- you should be in New York already.” She shook her head, her tone serious. “I know Vocal Adrenaline is important to you...but they’re holding you back.” 

She knew from the times they’d spoken that Jesse wasn’t back solely for Vocal Adrenaline-- but for her. “You can’t let anything-- including me-- hold you back.” Nibbling on her bottom lip, she grinned a little, reaching over to place her hand on his. “You’re too good for this place, Jes.” Rachel gave his hand a gentle squeeze before moving to take off her seatbelt. 

Jesse St. James:

Jesse was quiet for a moment after Rachel told him that he shouldn’t let anything hold him back. It was nice that someone believed in him-- that he was destined for bigger and better things than Ohio. He squeezed her hand back and smiled at her. “This is just a temporary gig-- another credit I can list on my growing résumé,” he insisted, knowing that he couldn’t be confined to such “small picture” ventures.

When they exited the vehicle, Jesse let Rachel lead the way up the path towards the front door. “But for the record, it isn’t you that’s holding me back,” Jesse clarified, pausing for a moment to clear his throat, “New York is still my future. You’re part of that future, too.”

Rachel Berry:

Rachel paused briefly with her keys in the door as Jesse reiterated that she would be part of that future. It was sort of flattering that Jesse was so adamant. She may be part of his future career-wise but romantically she just couldn’t do it. Anytime the thought tried to crawl out from the back of her mind all she could see was Hunter. “We will take over the Broadway scene,” she chuckled, opening the door to let them in. “Our names will be in everyone’s mouth.” She dreamed for a moment about her and Jesse being friends and being a powerful force in New York together. 

“You and Hunter getting along is crucial, though, or it’ll never work.” Rachel cleared her throat as she led him into the dining room, placing her things on the table. She was suddenly very aware that she was alone with Jesse and it made her palms a little sweaty. “So, uh, trigonometry…”

Jesse St. James: 

"Oh, definitely. The first time you have a leading role, you and I will win for Best Actress and Best Actor; we'll do so much press as the two ingenues from Podunk, Ohio who made names for themselves-- together." Jesse followed Rachel into her home, also acutely aware that with her parents not present it made them very much alone. He took the time to take a look around, familiarizing himself with how things looked similar to the last time he was here. Nostalgia washed over him, picturing his teenage self with a doe-eyed sixteen year old Rachel Berry singing duets together around the piano in the living room.

Jesse forced himself to step away from the past, aware that he needed to put himself in the present to continue being part of Rachel's life. "So what's Hunter's plans? College in New York? He probably wants to do something boring like being an accountant, right?"

Rachel Berry:

Rachel chuckled to herself as she took a seat at the table, noticing the way Jesse skirted around her prompt for the homework help that he’d come for. She should’ve known better-- Jesse couldn’t actually help her with her homework. He just wanted to spend time with her and if she were being honest, she did, too. She wanted to spend time with him without Hunter around so she could assess Jesse’s actual intentions and feelings and if he could actually handle just being her friend.

“I told you, we’re moving to New York. He’s wanting to go to Cornell- which, admittedly, isn’t ideal because it puts two more hours between us than we have now but it’s not like we can’t make it work. We’ll meet halfway most times, I’m sure.” She said, having not given much thought to their future other than the fact that they were going into it together, even if it meant being apart for a few more years. “His father wants him to go into the Navy, follow in his footsteps. But we haven’t talked about that much, though.” Nibbling on her lip, Rachel tried to push the thought from her mind as she usually did. She hoped that when the time came, Hunter would choose her over the Navy without prompt and she didn’t have to be that girl.

Jesse St. James:

“Navy?” Jesse murmured to himself, wondering how that would impact Rachel’s future. “So he’ll be on a boat somewhere? Like a sailor out to sea for weeks and weeks at a time..? Doesn’t sound like fun.” He finished perusing through the living room before returning to Rachel’s side at the dining room table. Her books were spread out on the table and when Rachel opened up the math book, his eyes became wide like saucers. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was looking at, but he wasn’t about to make that apparent.

“A sailor and a broadway superstar don’t really mix, do they? It’s not exactly the ‘Broadway power couple’ I envision when I see you walking down the red carpet at events.” Jesse flipped through the pages of the trigonometry book, eyes scanning the content to see if there was even a little bit of something he understood so he could help.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel sighed, looking down at the table as Jesse mentioned Hunter being away for long periods of time out in the middle of the ocean. She really hadn’t taken a moment to sit alone with those thoughts and really assess. She thought being grounded from Hunter was bad, but what about when he was shipped off somewhere and she couldn’t speak to him every single day whenever she pleased? She suddenly felt nauseous.

“M-maybe it’s not ideal. But it’s what he wants...he doesn’t hold me back from what I want.” She was trying to convince herself rather than Jesse. “If...if the Navy is what he wants to do then I can’t stop him.” Rachel trailed off, thinking of the first date she’d gone on with Hunter when they had discussed their lives. “Though...I don’t really think it’s what he wants really. I think his dad is more or less pressuring him into it.” As these thoughts began to nibble at her anxiety ridden brain, she wasn’t so much focused on getting to her homework. Glancing over at Jesse, Rachel shook her head. “Do you know anything about the Navy? Do they, like, go to actual war?” She realized then she had little to no knowledge of any military branch.  

Jesse St. James:

Upon hearing that Rachel wasn’t especially supportive of Hunter’s decision to join the Navy, Jesse thought to himself that perhaps he found the fracture in their seemingly perfect relationship. It would be cruel to manipulate Rachel, but honesty was the best policy… Being upfront with her about his opinion of the military wasn’t the wrong thing to do, right? “Oh, I’m pretty sure people in the Navy go to war,” he answered, leaning back in his chair a little. “I mean, I only know from television but there’s a bunch of ships and submarines in the ocean watching the Koreans, right? It’s like, an island, right? So it’s surrounded by water. Isn’t the US. on the brink of a war with them right now?”

He backed off a little when he realized he might be scaring Rachel. “Maybe you can convince him not to join the military. The guy’s in show choir too, right? I mean, there’s no way he can get into NYADA but lots of actors hack it in New York without an education. He could totally get an ensemble role.”

Rachel Berry:

“War?” Rachel asked, looking at Jesse with her forehead wrinkled, the nausea turning her stomach again. “L-like, war?” She shook her head, imagining the worst case scenario. There was a vivid image in her mind of her in New York, alone. And then another of her coming backstage from curtain call of one of her shows to a phone call letting her know that Hunter was dead and never coming back. She took a shaky breath, closing her eyes and shaking her head as she tried to calm the anxiety that was rapidly building in her chest. 

“Uh, yeah,” She cleared her through, pressing her lips together as she looked down. “He’s extremely talented. He’s better than me, even. Well...at least just as talented.” Rachel explained, rubbing her hands over her face, taking another breath. “I just don’t…” She tried to get the images out of her head again, sighing. “Maybe...maybe he won’t go. Maybe he’ll change his mind and realize that it’s not his dream and he’ll find something else. Y-yeah...maybe.” Rachel placed her hands down on the table, sitting up a little straighter, visibly uncomfortable, anxious. She didn’t want to think about this anymore, it was scaring her and she didn’t have Hunter there to comfort her and talk it through. She didn’t want to have an anxiety attack in front of Jesse, either, regardless of whether or not he’d seen it before.

Jesse St. James: 

Jesse mentally kicked himself when he realized Rachel was on the verge of an anxiety attack, clearly caused by him. “If anyone can convince someone into doing something, it’s you. If he really likes performing as much as either of us you can convince him to do something else with his life. Besides, who goes to college just to waste it in the military? That’s just dumb…” Maybe he would talk to Hunter too; it was the least he could do after making Rachel unnecessarily worry. “I mean, weren’t you just talking about Ohio and Vocal Adrenaline holding me back? Don’t be surprised to run into me this time next year because I am definitely going to New York, too. Even if I have to bus tables while I go to every audition out there, I’m going.” 

His tone about New York was much more self-assured than before and it was all thanks to Rachel’s words. She had an innate ability to cheer anyone on, right beside them. Even if Rachel wasn’t actually doing anything, she really was a driving force for Jesse to find his place. He just hoped that when he landed on his own two feet Rachel would be standing right beside him.

Rachel Berry:

Rachel just nodded her head as Jesse tried to talk her down from the looming anxiety attack. “I guess. I...I don’t even really want to think about it anymore.” She tried to get the jarring images to leave her mind as she took a deep breath, appreciating the way Jesse changed the subject. 

“Y-yeah...I know you’ll be there. I don’t doubt that.” She looked over to Jesse, placing her hand on his. “That’s why it’s important to me that we all get along. We’re going to be in each other’s professional lives at the very least.” She said, giving him a gentle smile. “It’ll be really nice to have a familiar face to work with, I’m glad it’ll be you. I mean that.”

Jesse St. James:

Jesse nodded a bit when she agreed that they’d all be in New York together. At least while Hunter was in college figuring his future out, Jesse would be the third wheel; he had that much guaranteed for him and he was completely fine playing the slow game. Rachel had almost gone back to him once before, so it was only a matter of time. “Right? The three of us will be bonafide New Yorkers in no-time. Now c’mon, I promised to help you with your math homework so tell me what chapter you’re on and I’ll look up the answers on my phone.”

He was satisfied that he managed to talk her down a bit and she was smiling, so he took it as a good sign. Her worries were obviously still there because a matter like that wasn’t going to be overlooked; Jesse knew her too well to know that he’d inadvertently planted a seed of anxiety somewhere in Rachel’s brain. One thing was certain to him, however: if Hunter was going to commit to the military, things might not work out for him and Rachel. That was the golden opportunity Jesse had been waiting for.

[poisxnyouth]

neighbors. chapter 5. (d.d)

A/N: pls don't kill me. i swear. i had to do it. -hailey (also i'm on mobile i'll put in a read more once i get home)

WC: 3.1K

Warnings: smutty ig

He fucks you before he lets himself tell you the truth. You let him fuck you before you let yourself tell him the truth. There was one, teeny, tiny, unexpected, maybe-shouldn’t-be-called-an-issue, but it is one: issue. You can’t take it back, either, because you want it too much.

David had played a sneaky game, stepping away from dinner under pretense of using the bathroom before locating the nearest bodega in search of condoms. He condemned himself for it his entire walk and purchase, softly cursing at himself under his breath. He, of course, quickly obtained them, opening the box on his walk back to the restaurant and tossing the evidence, sliding its contents into his back pocket. David thinks he’s slick as he arrives at the restaurant and places himself in the seat next to you, cheeks pink. You immediately look at him skeptically.

“What did you do?”

“I just, um-,” he scratches his head, voice low, “you wanna have sex tonight? ‘Cause I-,”

“David! You did not!” you gasp, hand covering your mouth as you try to stifle your laugh. Your giggles make him flush a deeper red, palm pressed against his face. He only nods in response.

“I mean, I guess. Only this once.”

He nods again, changing the subject and continuing business as normal. Dave eventually becomes impatient, feeling as though the dinner is purposely being dragged on longer than usual. It gets the best of him, mind swirling with thoughts of you, feeling thirteen again as he attempts to scoot closer to you in the shared booth. You and the girls are paying no attention to him, sipping on wine and carrying a casual conversation. Your hand finds his shoulder, not thinking twice as you have a side conversation with Francine before you feel his hand slide up your thigh, stopping halfway up. You clear your throat in response, crossing your legs in an attempt to hide his hand from Francine.

You finish your sentence and turn to him, “What are you doing?” you whisper, removing your hand from his shoulder and placing it over his. He shrugs, face in his phone as he scrolls through his Twitter feed.

“You wanna go to the room?” he asks, avoiding your question, eyes not leaving his screen as he moves his hand again. He makes a point of lacing your fingers together, hand still on your thigh.

“No. You can wait,” you roll your eyes, turning away from him and back to Francine. You hear him huff like a 5 year old, his thumb rubbing affectionately at the skin under your dress. David feels himself getting more and more impatient with every moment after you remove your hand from his, allowing his hand to drift further and further up your thigh before it gets smacked and relocated.

He groans lowly in frustration, feigning boredom as he sits up in his seat, adjusting his dick discreetly and asking politely, “Y/N, can we go to my room? I have to work on something.” You look up at him from your wine glass, eyebrows raised before you give in, nodding. He attempts to hide his relief, sliding out of the booth before taking your hand in his, aiding you as you stand. He pulls his wallet out, handing Natalie one of his cards and his camera, bidding the girls his goodbyes. You insist you’ll meet them back at Francine’s apartment and follow him out of the restaurant.

He holds the door open for you, immediately groaning, “Holy fucking shit, I’ve been hard ever since I got back and that’s the one time you guys decide to talk for 5 more hours?” You laugh at him as you begin to walk, pointing out his exaggeration of time.

“Literally, Y/N, if I don’t cum within like, an hour tops, I’m going to die of blue balls,” he complains as you flag down a cab.

“Well, pretty sure no one told you to go out and buy condoms in the middle of dinner,” you retort as he holds the car door open for you, taking your hand in his. He climbs in next to you as you inform the driver of Dave’s hotel address. Once you pull off and into the street, you push up the partition.

“We’re getting fucking tested when we’re back in LA,” Dave promises in a whisper, pulling you closer to him in the backseat as his hand slides up your dress again.

“Absolutely not. Don’t you remember the words, ‘just this once,’ coming out of my mouth?” He wraps his free arm around your waist, leaning his head into your neck.

“You’re trying to kill me, Y/N, I swear to God. Can’t we just fuck on the side?” He mumbles, teeth nipping at the skin by your collarbone. You tug him up by his hair as his hand continues to travel further north. You don’t stop his hand as he jerks your underwear down your legs and throws them haphazardly into your purse.

“Stop thinking with your dick; you know that’s not a good idea.” He nods, muttering a wimpy I know as you pull him into a kiss. You let your hands search his pockets for his wallet amid the kiss, pulling away to see how much cash he has on him.

“Look at you,” he observes almost too affectionately, pushing your hair out of your face, “What happened to not wanting me to pay for anything?” David moves his hand from your thigh to the side of your neck, sliding in between your hair as he kisses at your cheek and down your neck sloppily. Part of him cares about being so public in his desire, but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. The aged man driving is probably used to it (at least that’s what David tells himself).

“I will do anything if it means you buy shit for me. Stop paying attention to him, he can’t see us. Pay attention to me,” you plead, leading his face down your neck.

“Good to know,” he hums in response, pushing your hair past your shoulders for easier access, “So, does that include bribing you into doing this with me again?”

“Don’t be a smartass,” you reply, “I’m not trying to be your sugar baby. I can support myself.” Dave groans against your skin in frustration.

“So you’ve said,” he responds, voice dripping with sarcasm, “But that’s not what it’s about, is it? You liked when I bought you that dress last night, that expensive dinner, the heels, this dress…It’s not about what it is or you being able to buy it for yourself, you like it because I bought it for you.” He’s prying.

“Come onnnnn. You don’t like the sound of me dropping five thousand dollars in your bank account and telling you to go shopping for me? I can PayPal you a few thousand right now and we can go to Bergdorf’s tomorrow morning before our flight. You can try shit on for me. Suck my dick in the dressing room?” David is in front of your face now, almost in a kiss as both of his hands slide up your thighs and under your dress once more. You shiver against him.

“Cartier? Get you rings of your own?” He adds unnecessarily, his point already having come across.

“I am not having this conversation with you right now,” you whisper.

“You’ve lived your whole life in luxury, designer everything, and it takes me to get you all breathless over it? What does that say about you, baby?” Dave takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, forcing you to look at him. It’s the first pet name he’s called you.  “Answer me.” You don’t.

“Tomorrow. Bergdorf’s, Dolce, Cartier, Tiffany's, Versace, Fleur du Mal, and we have a deal.”

“Fleur du Mal?” he cocks his head to the side.

“Lingerie.” He doesn’t give you a full reply as a delicious moan works its way out of his throat and into your mouth as he kisses you, both hands finding your waist. He pulls you closer to him as he leans his body weight against the interior of the car door, arm rest digging into his back. Dave doesn’t think about it as you climb into his lap and grind your hips into his. He tries to ignore your lack of undergarments.

“Does this arrangement include me calling you Daddy?”

He ruts your hips into his again, letting out a groan, “Oh, fuck, I didn’t even think about that. You want to?” You shrug in his hold, indifferent. You weren’t going to try it out now. Maybe once you’re in the room.

“What the fuck is taking so long?” He mumbles against your lips. Dave feels 16 again as he becomes aware of how desperately he’s grinding into your hips.

“Baaaaabe, we were in Jersey City and you’re staying in the Upper East Side. We’ve got like, 15 more minutes at least.”  You emphasize the pet name. He’s getting needy and whiny, attaching your mouths once more to try to subdue the thoughts stemming from the lack of friction his dick was receiving.

“I did not work as hard as I did, graduate from Yale, or move across the country to be a sugar baby for a dude I’ve known for two days.”

“You know that you didn’t have to work that hard. What schools did your parents go to?” This is odd dirty talk.

“Harvard and Princeton.”

“Yeah, you didn’t need to work that hard. Fancy Manhattan private school, parent alumni,” he kisses down your shoulder, “you were practically born with an Ivy admission. You could’ve gotten in with a 2.0 GPA-,”

“Fuck you,” you breathe, wanting to push him away as he moves to kiss down your chest.

He pushes your dress out of his way as he continues, “You worked that hard because you wanted to feel like you did it, you didn’t wanna be some weird shadow of your parents. ’S that why you’re in LA? New York rich kid complex, I guess.” He mumbles against your skin as you tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him up to your mouth.

“You think you’re in charge now, but if you say one more word about my life - ,” he doesn’t let you finish, murmuring a half-hearted mmhmm as you muster a small, I am so much richer than you.

It takes him off guard, slightly pulling back and saying, “So we both know money doesn’t actually mean shit in the long run.” You nod in his hold, hands against his chest.

“But you still wanna do this with me?” You look up at him, nodding slightly again as you run your hands over his shoulders. It’s a double entendre; he’s asking for solidified consent, but also pointing out the hypocrisy of what both of you agreed to.

“Oh, so you’re a whore,” he pulls you into him, “I’m just kidding, baby. Don’t get so tense.” At this, he adjusts you in his lap, purposely sliding his hands up your dress as he attaches your mouths. He wants to hear the noises that slip out of your mouth every day until he dies.

“Mmm, babygirl, stop,” he gently pushes you away after a while, pulling out his phone. You’re almost offended, still sitting in his lap, underwear still off, before he opens the PayPal app. He passes you the device and watches as you quickly type in your username and hand it back to him. Your head is resting on his shoulder as he sends you ten grand at the drop of a hat. Your eyes widen and you choke, clearing your throat as your phone chimes with the notification.

“Is that enough for you?” He asks, hand on your hip as he texts Natalie and tells her to not worry about the ten thousand dollars he just sent you. He knows she’ll bombard him with questions about it later. Dave makes sure to add on a Don't come to the room just yet. We're gonna fuck.

“We’ll see.”

“Just because you’re rich too doesn’t mean you can be a brat for me,” David says too nonchalantly, shoving his phone back in his pocket as the sentence sends shivers down your spine. He digs his fingertips into your hip, hard enough for bruises to remain. You’re pulling up to his hotel as Dave pulls out two twenties and tosses them through the now open partition. He opens the door too quickly, taking your hand in his as he helps you out onto the curb and tugs you inside of the lobby. His fingers are itching to touch you as he presses the elevator button.

David even gets impatient waiting for it, sighing as the doors ding open. He immediately presses his floor and the button that closes the doors, kissing you again as soon as it complies with his orders. He had dressed up for dinner, wearing a black button down, whose collar is now tight in your hands as you pull his mouth somehow even closer into yours.

The elevator dings again, forcing you apart, reaching for each other’s hands and hurrying down the hallway quietly. David, as always, fumbles with the key card and lock.

“Daddy,” you whine, “hurry up.” He stills at the name, biting at his lips as he flushes red and clears his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs nervously as he opens the door for you, hands still intertwined. Dave spins you into his hold, letting go of the door and pushing you against it as his free hand goes to double lock it.

“Second time in this situation in twenty-four hours. I think we have a problem,” he says, now pulling you off the door and leading you to the bed, not wanting to waste any time. You don’t answer him as his fingers find the zipper of your dress, sliding it down while you kick your heels off. David gets increasingly impatient as you undress each other; you quickly unbutton his shirt and cuffs, pushing the article of clothing off of his shoulders and down his arms. He's hurriedly able to unclasp your bra once your dress is off, the thousand dollar garments haplessly thrown on the floor.

"You want this? You want me to fuck you?" He's searching for consent a final time, a sweet thing to do but something you don't have time to think about as he pushes you into the bed, sliding his belt off. You whimper a yes.

So he does.

++

You're both half asleep in each other's arms as his phone begins to ring at midnight on the dot. You're both still buzzing from your orgasms, skin still sweaty and sticky as he moves, getting up to slide his boxers on and answer his phone. He presses accept as he crawls back into bed with you, fingers carding through your hair as you lay your head on his chest.

"Are you guys done yet?" you hear Natalie's voice on the other line, "'Cause I'm super tired." You look up at him, concerned, before he gives you a reassuring look.

"Nat, she's asleep, can you just like, sleep at Francine's? I feel really bad waking her," he lies through his teeth, hand now sliding up and down the sides of your bare torso.

"Yeah, I can, I guess. What's up with the ten grand?"

"I'll tell you later. It doesn't really matter. Do you need to come by here for stuff? Like, for your contacts?" She tells him yes, that she'll be by soon, and for him to put some clothes on. Dave hangs up, placing his phone on the nightstand before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Speaking of ten thousand dollars, we need to talk about that," he says, "Do you actually want to? 'Cause I mean, I'm down -,"

"It's not that which concerns me," you reply, drawing circles into his chest with your fingertips, "It's just like, I don't - I don't wanna get hurt." You feel like a child giving a wimpy confession, but he doesn't pay any mind to it.

He scrunches his eyebrows together, pulling you closer into his torso as he processes it, "I won't - like, that's not an intention of mine-,"

"Yeah, but it happens. It's why I wanted you to get over whatsherface first." He shrugs under you.

"I haven't even thought about her all day. I probably wouldn't have. I don't know, Y/N," he changes the subject and strokes his hand down your arm, "I think it'd be fun. I've never done it before."

"And if we start dating?"

"Then I will be a very, very generous boyfriend who you just so happen to call Daddy, 'cause holy fuck that was hot." He tips your head up from his chest so he can kiss you properly, pulling you closer by the back of your neck.

You pull away and out of the kiss, "If we do this, I'm expecting to end up in a relationship with you. I really like you." Your admission makes him smile and his heart flutter, his hand on your cheek as he murmurs his reciprocation and kisses you again.

You continue that way for a few minutes, hands delicately feeling each other's skin as you kiss softly. It's sweet, slow and lazy, minds somewhere else as you hear a key swipe through the reader on the door. The handle turns and Natalie is unable to open it; David had double locked it. You hear her mutter a Damn it, David before David's phone chimes with a text from her.

He groans softly, pulling away from the kiss. Dave whispers an order for you to pretend you're asleep, pressing a kiss to your cheek, but you peek at him as he pulls a shirt and sweatpants on before opening the door.

Natalie creeps in, attempting to be quiet as she unzips her suitcase.

"Did you guys just come here to fuck?" She asks him as he shrugs in response, moving to slink back into the sheets next to you.

Natalie eyes him, gathering her belongings, as he embraces you in his arms.

"Her friends like you, you know. They think you'll be good for her. You like her?" David keeps his hand on your waist, nodding at Natalie.

"Yeah, I do. A lot. She's great."

"I knew you would. She's cool. She really likes you, too," Nat smiles at him, filling her purse with items required for her stay at Francine's.

She's heading for the door before stopping, turning to Dave and admitting, "Be careful, David. I think this'll be good for you, but I don't want you hurting her or her hurting you. It sucks to see you like that. I love you. Text me in the morning when you guys are up." He doesn't have a chance to respond before the door shuts.

[boymeetsweevil]

Another draft because FS is taking too long

Title: two wrongs don’t make a right (so what do two douchebags and a dweeb make?)

Douche/fuck boy Jimin and Jin, weirdo!OC

Jimin waits until the girl’s tiny frame disappears down the hallway in a blur of overly familiar stained sweats before turning to stare down a very sheepish looking Jin.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, got it?” He rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it and making him resemble a cockatoo.

“Dude, relax. I get it, you have a rep to maintain. Everyone ventures outside their type for a first time.”

Jin winces. He knows he’s known for being incredibly picky—only ever sleeping with 4.0 girls (the number referring to their maximum dress size and minimum GPA). Someone even did a story on it in the Hot Takes section of the school magazine. He’s still not sure if it’s a moment he should proud of.

“About that…” he trails off and tugs nervously at the throw blanket he hastily clothed himself with when Jimin burst into their shared living room only to catch him in a rather compromising position. With that girl of all people.

“What?”

“Itsnotthefirsttimeanditwontbethelast”

Jimin blinks slowly, trying to process the flurry of words and Jin’s ashamed tone. When what Jin said finally hits him, he grins darkly.

“Man, c’mon. Don’t joke like that about her, its not nice.”

“Jimin, I’m—,” Jin looks around the hallway suspiciously before dragging Jimin into the dorm and slamming the door shut. “I’m being serious, okay?” Jimin’s jaw drops and he begins to sputter.

“But…why her?”

The first time Jimin encountered you was during a particularly late night in the stacks of the library last semester. The year was starting off hard and he was getting his ass kicked in one particular introductory psych class.

At around 1 in the morning, he had one more problem to finish on his take-home exam but was desperately stuck. He remembered seeing someone who he recognized from class sitting in the economics section. He thought it was odd initially. Usually no one sat there because the smell from the librarians’ bathroom often carried over. And no one wanted to study to the smell of coffee shits.

Taking a break, he grabbed his laptop and wandered around the stacks to find the classmate. When he found you, you were in the process of packing up, struggling to get your earphones into the headphone jack of your phone while also carrying a stack of periodicals and a burger from the campus grill, which happened to be leaking ketchup onto your already dingy tracksuit. He approached you carefully.

“Hey, you’re in Professor Kang’s class, right?”

“Huh?”

His voice startled you and you lost your precarious grip on your stuff. The poorly wrapped burger fell to the floor and bled a little onto your white converse. The periodicals fluttered down around your feet.

“Shit, sorry. Lemme help you,” he offered as he put his laptop down. You gasped from your spot already crouched on the ground.

“No, please, it’s really okay. Please, I’m fine, I don’t need—“

But he already had one printout from the stack in his hand and automatically turned it over. When Jimin looks back on the memory, he thinks that this may have been the biggest mistake he’s ever made in his life.

He would later find out after a nervous google search that the paper in his hand, and probably 80 percent of the papers on the ground, were called fursonas. While a handful might have been somewhat decent, most of them were of overly buff rabbits with bubble butts raised for the viewer or tigers fisting weeping, veiny dicks over pastel backgrounds. The one he held was of a duck, or something, with a weight lifter’s body with an obscene expression on its face while tentacles swarmed it from all angles. The implications of what might be happening in the picture made Jimin’s head hurt.

“Oh my god, what the fuck. What the fuck,” he whispered. He was so stunned that he let you rip the page from his hand.

“It’s called fur-centric hentai and its art,” you hissed. The line sounded mechanical and well-practiced if you asked Jimin. He watched you gather the rest of your belongings quickly, burger included, before leaving him crouched in the economics stacks.

Jin snaps his fingers in front of Jimin’s zoned out face only to have him be brought back to reality with a look of slight disgust.

“What’s your problem, fix your face,” Jin snapped.

“I’m just trying to figure out why you chose her, of all people. You remember that story I told you about the Econ stacks. I was so scarred, I got a C on that test.”

“Pretty sure you got a C because you didn’t realize there was a second page of the homework.”

“Well, if she hadn’t thrown her weird animal dicks all over the place, I would have realized there was a back and finished the assignment”

Jin sniffs and drops the blanket he was wearing, before walking over to the kitchen to get a drink, naked as the day he was born. Jimin follows on autopilot.

“Maybe you should stop trying to yuck my yum,”Jin says over his shoulder.

“Oh my god, don’t say it like that. I’m just saying, man. She’s weird. And gross. And more importantly not.Your. Type.” He enunciates each word with a poke to Jin’s bare back while he gets them some beers.

“You think I don’t fucking know that? That’s why I keep it discrete. Why do you think I told you not to come home every Tuesday and Thursday at until after 8:30?”

“You said you had lab.”

“How the hell could I do a lab in our apartment?”

“It…It could happen.”

“I’m a poetry major,” Jin pinches the bridge of his nose at his roommate’s stupidity, “Damnit Jimin.”

Jimin purses his lips when he realizes he might be even dumber than he thought.

“Wait a second, you’ve had lab,” he makes giant air quote gestures, “for, what, 2 months now? You’ve just been fucking her this whole time?”

There’s a beat of silence as Jin takes another swig from his beer. “Yeah,” he finally says. The matter of fact air of his response makes something glitch in Jimin’s brain.

“What the hell, dude? That’s a lot of repeat service. Does she have something on you? Is that why you’re doing this? Did you break an expensive-ass vase or something?” Jimin stops to think, his mind running wild with possibilities. “Holy shit, are you being pimped out?”

“No. God, would you just shut up?” Jin sighs quietly. “I’m sleeping with her so much because she’s the best I’ve ever had.”

Jimin takes a step back at the defeated sincerity in Jin’s tone.

“How? What about that time with that other girl--what was her name?” Jimin runs a hand through his hair trying to remember any name of one of many the girls Jin has had a fling with. “Oh! Irene or something? What about her?”

“I mean, Irene was fine. She gave pretty good head. But last Thursday I thought I came harder than I’ve ever come in my entire life.”

“You ‘thought’?”

Jin looks up wistfully somewhere behind Jimin’s head at the memory. “Well then she came over the following Tuesday and rocked my shit,” he smirks. “And then that was the hardest I’ve ever come in my life.”

“So she gives good head. Who cares? There’s plenty of girls on campus who give good head and also don’t draw furry porn for a living and wash their damn sweatpants.”

“You don’t understand, dude. It’s not just the head. It’s the head, and the handjobs, and the pussy. It’s everything.”

Jimin raises his eyebrows incredulously. “The pussy is better than the handjobs?” He has to try hard not to look impressed. Meanwhile Jin is smilng, almost relieved now that the secret is out and he can talk openly about the mindblowing sex he’d been having.

“The first time she jerked me off, I passed out immediately after I came and woke up late to the class the next afternoon.”

Jimin narrows his eyes but motions with a hand for Jin to continue.

“The first time she blew me I couldn’t even walk afterward.”

“Wait...was that the day you told me you thought you had a sprained ankle? The one that healed after 24 hours?”

“Yep.”

The smug tone and the second stupid lie make Jimin want to rip his hair out. “Why do you lie so much,” he whispered, pain in his voice.

“I wasn’t lying, I really thought I had a sprained ankle.”

“From a blowjob?”

“That’s what I said.”

“What about the, uh, the pussy,” Jimin asks after realizing the FBI probably won’t come through the doors and snipe him for talking about vagina.

“The one time she let me hit it raw, I cried.,” Jin says, absolutely beaming.

“Oh, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“I am, though. I think she was gonna let me do it again today.” Jin closes his eyes and smiles softly while Jimin looks on, unamused.

“So? What happened today? She underperform or something?” There’s a hint of jealousy and a lot of curiosity in his tone, but Jimin would deny it if anyone asked him.

“No, asswipe. She got spooked because you showed up when you weren’t supposed to.”

“Well, sorry for ruining your lies,” Jimin snaps, cracking open his own beer.

“You think this is a joke?” Jin shoves Jimin in the chest roughly. “We didn’t get to finish because of you. Now I have to jerk off with my own hand. That’s pathetic”

“And what were you doing before you met her? Listen to yourself, she’s making you crazy. No one is that good in bed.”

Jin stomps over to the couch and settles down before turning and looking at Jimin over the backboard.

“You know what? You go and sleep with her 3--no--4 times. And if she doesn’t completely fry your brain, I’ll pay for any and all of your takeout for the next month. But If she does, you gotta switch mattresses with me and not come by the dorm until after 10 on Tuesdays and Thursdays from then on.”

“Dude, gross I don’t want your sex soaked mattress. It’s the same as yours anyway. Minus the ten gallons of old jizz on it.”

“No, it’s not. You have that, like, Tempurpedic thing.”

“True,” Jimin nods thoughtfully, “But don’t you think it would be weird if the roommate of the guy she was fucking started trying to get in her pants? Also, I could just lie and say she didn’t do it for me. Then you’d be forced to pay for my food and—Hold on. If she’s so good, why are you so willing to pawn her off to me?”

“Why do you ask so many stupid questions? First of all, she’s not mine just because I’m sleeping with her. I’m just telling you to go see if she’ll let you. I mean, there’s no guarantee. She barely even gave me a shot.”

“She barely gave you a shot? But you’re, like, the campus prince”, more air quotes, “How did this even happen?”

“Well, to make a long story short, we were both high at her sorority and I’d heard rumors about her from Wonho, so I went to…talk to her in her room.”

“Wonho is Wonho, though. He’d fuck anyone if the weed was good.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken, my friend. He has a diverse and sophisticated palate. He knows what he’s talking about when it comes to weed and sex. Once I took him up on his suggestion and she said yes, I never looked back,” Jin says with a dreamy voice.

Jimin watches the back of Jin’s head loll on the sofa. When a soft sigh emerges from where the older man is sitting, Jimin recoils and runs out of the kitchen, away from the couch.

“Are you jerking off right now? Dude. Not cool.”

“Get the fuck out, then. It’s Thursday, which means I’m getting off by 7:30pm and I don’t give a rat’s ass who’s here when it happens.”

“Fine,” Jimin huffs and reluctantly stuffs his feet back into his sneakers where they lie by the door. “I hope your dick chafes.”

Jin purposefully releases another, louder moan and Jimin runs out of the apartment.

“I’ll have an order of the half crispy, half spicy and a large coke. Thanks,” Jimin says to the clerk at the grill before checking his phone for the 8th time in the hour.

8:01 Jimin - Are you done yet?

             (8:10 read by Jin)

8:11 Jin - yeah but round two starts soon so

8:11 Jin - *middle finger emoji*

Jimin quickly shuts down his messenger app and opens up Flappy Bird while he sits at a table and waits for his order number to be called.

“Stupid asshole and his stupid dick, kicking me out of the stupid apartment. Fuck you, dickhead,” Jimin mutters to himself.

“What did you just say?” 

Jimin’s head whips up at the infantile voice coming from the seat across from him. Jeon Jungkook is sitting at his table, eating a veggie burger. Who the hell orders a veggie burger from a chicken place?

“Were you talking to me,” Jungkook asks again, pushing his bulky glasses up with a finger.

“Jeon, why would I be talking to you? A better question is why the hell are you talking to me?