#not to brag but my period started on Monday

[clarabowmp3]

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[be-my-ally]

Snowballs and Kisses

Hello darlings!! Merry Christmas! I hope everyone celebrating has a wonderful day, and everyone for whom it is a usual monday has a better than usual start to the week!! 

I have been MIA the last few weeks on here, but never fear I have been busy behind the scenes and hopefully more things and fics will be finished very soon!! I cannot wait for my little new year break, and *finally* catching up on all the stuff I've missed!! In the meantime as a ittle teeny tiny Christmas gift please enjoy this timeskip for my Splashing Around ‘verse to Christmas Eve 1960 and my shameless OC self insert of what I’d like to gift Elvis. 

a/n not totally accurate weather references: it didn’t actually snow in memphis in the latter half of 1959 but, this is fanfiction after all and it *was* very cold november 18th 1959. (I also cut a whole 4k of angst that will come out at some point as a separate chapter, Anita getting a poodle, and the colonel dressed as santa because honestly i just wanted to write and read fluff, but here's a warning that there may end up being more festive fics posted…a little late). 

warnings: 18+, smut lite; gentle fingering and references to cumming in pants. UNEDITED

Graceland - December 1960 

The excitement of having Elvis back at home for the festive season was only slightly tempered by the knowledge that it was his first Christmas at home without his mother. He’d not really tried to celebrate properly in Germany; sure they’d done the best they could, and he raved about the gift of a fully dressed tree for weeks,  but it hadn’t been the same as it would have been at home. 

This year though, Elvis seemed determined to restore the festive spirit. Perhaps even further than just restoration - an attempt to make it as bright and jolly as possible in response to both his mother’s passing, and missing the last two. He’d bragged to anyone who would listen about how excited he was to give out presents, his plans for even more lights than ever before; signs and lawn decorations.

While Louise was excited, it had left her in an almost constant state of anxiety, Christmas wasn’t just about the gift-giving… but it was a large enough part of it that it’s where her mind immediately went. From the moment he suggested they hang at Graceland that first year, from the first time they’d all pored over the letter to Frances, and his promises to “have a ball next Christmas”, giggling and whispering about what fun they were going to have the following year. From all of those times Louise had been preoccupied with what to get him and whether her secret plan was good enough for Elvis of all people. 

That first year he had reiterated to them all and was absolutely adamant no-one needed to gift him anything and wouldn’t hear of anything being sent over to him. But his frequent calls and mentions of the upcoming holiday belied his actual feelings and besides, Louise wanted him to feel special. Wanted him to know they’d been thinking of him as much as he must have missed being home. It wasn’t until the 27th of November and the slightest of snowfalls had occurred, tiny little snowflakes, delicately falling down when the temperature had dropped just enough for the rain to crystallise when a flash of inspiration hit her. She couldn’t send it, so instead she’d waited patiently, adding to her bundle throughout the months. Now that it was almost time to give it though she was second-guessing that two year decision. Was it too juvenile? It’s just so tricky to buy for the man who literally has anything he could ever wish for. As the festive period hurtles on she resigns herself to having to hunt for a back-up gift…maybe a nice sweater. Maybe that will do.  Or maybe it’s best to have options. 

Elvis’ melancholia about the holiday doesn’t seem to stretch into Christmas Eve, and he encourages them with all the enthusiasm he’s ever had. The party starts from mid-afternoon and stretches long into the evening and night with all the makings of an excellent time from the music to the food until eventually they all find themselves around the extravagant tree to exchange presents. It’s a little chaotic, so many people about and frequently someone’s having to dive from room to room to fetch people or hidden gifts. Louise finds it almost dizzying when she finally manages to take a seat on the long sofa, catching her breath from being sent to find someone. She was already finding herself struggling to think whenever she glanced over at Elvis - he looked outrageously good in a white shirt, black trousers - well, he looked outrageously good all the time at the moment - but there was something about the feeling in the air of the day that made it all the harder to act natural around him. Elvis had been quiet for a moment, but now he was sat on his armchair across the room, looking for all the world like a king on a throne ready to bestow his generosity on the peasants. Except, that’s not the feeling in the room at all; it’s jolly and wonderful, picture perfect - all of them slightly tipsy on champagne and vodka cocktails and finding the evening all the more entertaining for it. He announces he wants to give the presents that he’s bought everyone before he opens his own, and Louise dips her eyes when he hands her a little bow-tied box. No-one else’s comes with a ribbon and she strokes it, feeling a glow emanating from her stomach and chest as she imagines his nimble fingers tying it on, totally ignoring the fact that she knows someone else probably wrapped it for him. Still, she tugs it off to hide from the others - not wanting to be teased about how such a little gesture has made her blush so strongly - and tucks it into her palm, fully intending on slipping it into her shoe or around her wrist in a moment, knowing she’ll keep it forever - wear it in her hair like a declaration.

When she looks back up everyone has a similar box and she opens it quickly in case they’re all the same - she doesn’t want to ruin her surprise. There, nestled in a little velvet box is a ring, a huge, gaudy red stone in the centre, almost too big for her finger.  Louise is transfixed, staring at it, barely a thought in her head as she tries to wrap her head around the way it sparkles in the light. Despite the size of the gem, the band was more than a little small when she tries to slip it on, and she quietly puts it back into the box, not wanting to draw attention to her apparently larger than expected fingers. She glances around, suddenly coming out of her shocked obliviousness. Her face falling when she realises that everyone around her is unboxing similarly precious jewellery. She’s resigning herself to having to sneak it off to get it resized and hating herself a little for it, wondering if there are exercises she could do or maybe a special diet to shrink her fingers to size, when she suddenly realises all the other girls are turning each-other around, kissing Elvis on the cheek in thanks, or asking him to clasp their new necklaces. Louise looks back down at her box and the others. What does a ring mean? It’s been gifted with such casualness that it can’t possibly mean anything can it? When she looks back up Elvis is staring right at her, and she makes eye contact with him - her wide eyes meeting his laughing ones. He winks, and turns back to Red. She tries her best to distract herself from it, ooh and aahing over everyone else’s and keeping quiet about the little box clutched tight in her hand. 

Half hour later Elvis is admiring his own little haul, when he catches her eye again, 

“You forget about me Lou?” Louise cringes at being called out so publicly, 

“Of course not!” She looks around the room, at the large group gathered there, “No, uh, why don’t you, well I’ve gotten you something else….It’s a sweater. It’s not great really, but I… your real gift I’ve made you, but,” She swallows building her courage, unsure why she’s so nervous suddenly when she’d been so excited for so long; the whole idea just seemed juvenile and silly now. “… you’ve gotta follow me for it.” He stares into her eyes for a second, before nodding and standing up, gesturing at her as if to say ‘lead the way’. 

He grins at the boys when they walk out, making a salacious movement as if to suggest her gift may not be all too family-friendly to accompanying guffaws of laughter. She ignores it, even as her tummy churns; should she be offering that? Is that what he wants these days?

“Don’t laugh.” She asks nervously as they walk into the little pantry. Elvis looks bemused to find himself there, leaning against the wall of the tiny space 

“I won’t” Louise nods, shutting the door, only to hear Elvis giggle, “You tryin’ to get me alone, doll?” 

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“One hell of a christmas present! to be locked in a cupboard with a pretty little gal.” 

She rolls her eyes, wiggling past him to get to the freezer, 

“Close your eyes.” He obediently does so, and she reaches into an old box of ice-cream to pull out a Tupperware, “Hold your hands out.” And she puts it in his cupped fingers, “Ok…open.” He blinks down at the Tupperware.

“Um. Well, thanks, I’m uh, sure this will be useful.” Louise rolls her eyes, impatiently tugging off the lid herself, “Oh.” Elvis goes silent, staring at the three perfect, teeny snowballs balanced in the tub. Each resting upon a little piece of paper with Louise’s very best cursive handwriting spelling out the date; December 12th 1958, 18th November 1959, and 20th December 1960.  

The silence stretches as Elvis stares at the box, and Louise starts to ramble nervously,  “I was starting to panic this year, but at least I’d thought to pick some up back in January — it snowed so heavy on the 5th.  I think it was, or maybe the 15th? I’ll have to check my diary… so I mean it isn’t entirely accurate that it’s all from the 20th - but I mean, I had to have something and well I know how much you loved it when, when your mother… and I wanted you to know I’ve been thinkin’ of you non-stop while you were away. So, here, the first snow from the garden from every year you missed.” Elvis is still staring at the box, one finger poking each little round ball. 

“This really snow from two years ago?” 

“Uh-huh… I mean I don’t know what you’re gonna do with it now, but it really is… been in that box in the freezer this whole time…I hid it from everyone. Every time someone said they wanted some ice cream I panicked.”  

“Lou.” 

“‘M sorry this is really stupid, god - what are you gonna do with some snowballs, I should’ve gone in with the other girls, got you something really good… I just - well, I thought you’d like it and I know you misse-”

“Baby, I don’t, I don’t know what to say. I… I didn’t think anyone would think of me like this, like mama did, ever again. I - well, thank you, Lou darling, this is, well, its the best damn gift I’ve ever gotten.” He grabs her arm, tugging her to him - pressing a hard kiss to her forehead, the force of it surprising her.  “I’m gonna show everyone - c’mon - quick before they melt.” He runs out of the kitchen, leaving Louise to follow meekly behind. 

He shows them off like he’s a new father, proudly holding them up in the box, delicately picking one of them up and sighing at it, holding it up at the light for everyone to marvel at. It’s a little ridiculous in some ways - everyone in the room had been gifted something hugely lavish, and yet the thing  everyone was talking and gossiping at was a snowball. 

Hours later the party finally winds down enough that Louise realises she’s one of the last few stragglers of a night so late it’s turned into Christmas morning. How she’d ended up in this position she’ll never know, and she questions it herself as she stands quietly in the doorway, watching Elvis fumble on the piano. Just his fiddling is beautiful, little snippets of remembered carols, before he hammers onto the keys, singing along to Santa Claus is Back in Town. Louise can’t help the breathy gasp that escapes her and he looks up at her, smiling almost teasingly, perfect glint in his eye as he pauses for a second to run a hand through his hair before he continues for another verse and a half. He stops almost abruptly, standing up to stretch before turning to her. She’s trying to find the words to explain how beautiful it was, how perfect he sounds - how she can feel it throughout her whole being, but before she can express those sentiments he’s in front of her and grasping her hand. 

“C’mon,” He tugs her over to the armchair he’d been sat in earlier in the evening, “Over here hon, that’s it - you’re the last.” Elvis throws himself onto the chair, holding onto her, pulling her stumbling body against his. “You’re the last of my girls left…” He sighs melodramatically and Louise giggles uncontrollably back at him. She’d had an illicit two glasses and a half of champagne earlier in the evening; Elvis had playfully wagged his finger at her as she’d accepted it from Red although she’d seen him have more than a few drinks himself. She can feel the bubbles still settling into her tummy and head, fuzzing her thoughts a little and making her giggly and affectionate. Still, she wasn’t so tipsy she couldn’t call out his overdramatic behaviour. 

“They’ve just gone home for the night. They’ll be back tomorrow I’m sure.”  She shakes her head. He ignores her, crying out, 

“I’m all alone!” He tugs her by her elbow, catching her as she stumbles into his lap, pulling her onto him, flattening her wide skirt. It wasn’t really the fashion anymore but while she’d been momentarily hesitant about her holiday dress she wasn’t self-conscious, and she liked how it made her shape look. Some might suggest the bow and petticoats were juvenile, but it made her feel more adult than the tighter styles that were starting to become popular with her peers, more herself than playing dress-up. 

She snuggles under his arm, head pillowed on his chest, cheeks pressed against the little buttons of his shirt. He pretends to choke at her hair brushing his nose, using his free hand to flatten it under his chin and she grins, shivering against him as his breath tickles her skin. They stay cuddled for a few moments, sinking into the kind of happy exhaustion that seems to only occur on holidays. It feels different than before, although Elvis is more similarly carefree than she’d seen him in a long time. He’d grown up a lot over the years she hadn’t seen him, or so it felt, and his adultness didn’t match the image of him playing and fooling around that she had in her head. It’s an awful feeling, she thinks, that even with him right there, surrounding her, she still longs for a little more of the playfulness of the past.

Suddenly though Elvis shifts, interrupting her thoughts and murmuring against the top of her head, 

“Y’hear that?” Louise stops breathing, and all she can hear is the solid thump-thump of his heart against her ear, he waits a second but she can’t work out what he’s referring to and doesn’t respond, he gasps “There it is again! Do you hear it?” 

Louise shakes her head against him, frowning a little, “No?” She tries really hard to listen out, but other than the faintest hint of the music from the boys in the other room she can’t hear a thing. “The music?”  

“No! No, listen.” He puts his finger to his lips, shushing her,

“I really don’t hear anything Elvis.” He wraps his arm around her waist a little tighter, tugging her up so she was sat more upright on his knee, her face close to his. He whispers into her ear, 

“I think I hear hooves…” Louise frowns, 

“Hooves!?” God, it would be just her luck that he’d gone and bought her a horse or something, and she’d have to act grateful even though she was terrified of them.  

“Mmhmm, that’s right.” His hand rises up to brush across her back gently, fingertips dancing around her side, “Hooves. Hooves and bells.” He pauses for dramatic effect, jabbing his finger into her side in a tickling poke. His voice dips lower, as his arm squeezes around her, “Someone must have been a good girl this year.” 

Louise grins when she realises what he’s implying and couldn’t bring herself not to play along. 

“…You think it’s Santa Claus?!” 

“Hmm, definitely…who else would it be, on the roof with hooves and bells on Christmas eve?” She giggles, both in response to his kind-natured teasing and his fingers poking her side with an exaggerated motion.

“Oh, I wonder what he’ll leave in my stocking…” Elvis hums against her hair, 

“Mmm. Coal.” 

“Nooo!” She giggles back to him, “You just said I’ve been a good girl!”

“You’ve been a very good little girl.” His voice has hit that low pitch that immediately sends a jolt down her spine, right into the pit of her stomach and she swallows, trying to keep up with the joke. 

“Well, I’m, uh, I’m sure I’ll like whatever it is.” 

“Mmhmm….” His hand brushes up her leg, “Bet ya I’ll like what’s in your stockings more…” 

“Elvis!” She shrieks, playfully batting his hand away, he pulls it off of her, smoothing down her skirt, and resting it onto her lap for a moment. Louise feels her breath catching as he presses a kiss to the side of her head, brushing her hair out of the way and shifting her on his thigh so that she’s facing him. It’s almost a struggle for her to meet his eyes, she felt so desperate for his attention - but there was nowhere else to look that made her feel any less heated. His hair, god even his eyebrows were Elvis-enough to make her squirm. It’s only a second of him kissing her jaw, before she’s gasping for him, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s grabbing his hand and shoving it back on her thigh. 

She’d kept herself for him, even as it felt that she’d been playing before, doing it for someone who would never notice or care - ostensibly in general, but really if she was truthful - for him. She’d touched herself, hadn’t been able to resist the temptation, especially after his deep voice came through the phone - but the other boys, the boys in school, the ones with blue collar jobs and careers, had all lost their appeal whenever she imagined kissing them, and her imagination interposed the image and feeling of him, his slippery body in the pool, the feel of him in front of her on the bike. He was thinner now, even still, than he was before, puppy fat replaced with lean muscles. His face shape changed just the tiniest bit, perhaps unnoticeable to some, but so very obvious to her, cheekbones and chin more angular than before. But his lips feel the same as they did before he left, and since his return home - she’d expected they’d have lost their eager nature, but still she can feel the hint of desperation as he presses them against her jaw.

She gasps, rocking against him as he roves down her neck - a place no one else has ever touched, tiny points of pressure feeling like a heat was expanding across her neck and chest, matching the clench of her thighs. His hand gently strokes up her stockings before he hitches her up, capturing his mouth with hers and shoving her underlayers up to her waist in the abrupt movement. Louise moves with him, desperate to stay in contact with his lips and she moans in upset when he starts to pull away. 

“C’mon baby,” He whispers, “C’mon, Lou-Lou let me - let me say thank you,” He’s barely audible as he speaks against her lips between pressing bruising kisses onto them, “I just - wanna, wanna make you feel good, Lou doll.” She gasps out her agreement, eyes falling closed and her head falling into his shoulder as his fingers find their way to rub against the silk of her underwear. He shifts her again, balancing her so she can rock against his thigh and his hand, whilst also rubbing her leg against his covered crotch. Louise is almost surprised at the heat of him against her thigh, but her curiosity has no chance to be satisfied when he hooks a finger under the leg band of her panties, totally distracting her from anything but the feel of him under her and attempting to stay somewhat upright. His finger feels softer than she’d imagined, and yet, in comparison to her own the pads feel foreign, rougher and surer than hers ever were sliding into the wetness they find there.

“God, you’re so soft baby, so fucking soft in here, perfect for me, you been waiting on me, honey?” 

“Uh-huh, waited, waited so long for you Elvis - didn’t, I didn’t want anyone but you.” He groans in response, his fingers moving faster. Until he’s forced to stop, tangled in the fabric and he growls in frustration. Louise feels it go straight down her body, and her thighs clench, trapping his hand even more. He pauses for barely a second to manhandle her up, just enough to roughly tug her panties down enough that it’s now entirely her bare skin rubbing against his hand and clothed thigh, the fibres of his trousers almost giving her a friction burn with her rapid movements. He continues as he was a second earlier, but now with far easier access he’s able to swipe his fingers across her clit, taking her to the edge almost immediately. She has no idea if this was something he’s always done well, or if this is a trick he’d picked up while he was away, but whatever the reason she was grateful. She doesn’t even consider how they were still, essentially, in public, too distracted by his slender fingers to be concerned about her now partial nudity. The only noise to break up their combined breathy moans is the layers of of taffeta rustling between them, as she continues to rock against his thigh, but this all changes when he delves his thumb into her wetness, bringing it back up to stroke circles on her clit, gently but repeatedly running it over her. 

“Oh, Elvis?” She cries out,  

“What baby? You’re so - I can feel you’re close,” His own breathing is getting heavier, and he holds her steady with his other hand grasping her thigh while his thumb continues to stroke her, 

“I don’t - I don’t…” She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say, and before she manages to turn it into a complete sentence she’s shaking on him as she rides out her orgasm. He sees her through it, continuing to stroke her with the same pressure before rapidly shoving his hand down his own pants, roughly rubbing himself off to quick completion. She watches him closely, unable to do anything but stare as his own eyes slide closed, head falling back against the couch and mouth opening as he gasps out a high-pitched moan. It was about enough to make her shudder again against his thigh, the look on his face, his mussed hair, open collar and the noises of sheer pleasure. Louise finds herself bouncing on his chest as he breathes rapidly from the effort, and he holds her tight for a few moments while they both regain use of their limbs. Louise feels almost a little shell-shocked and she only really comes to her senses when Elvis shifts, wiping his hand on his trousers with a grimace and patting her thigh, 

“Gosh that was, I, um, thank you El,” He grins at her, clearly pleased with his success, and he pats her leg again, 

“Thank you, honey, for just about the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me earlier baby, it was just - I’m gonna treasure them snowballs forever, you’ll see.” She grins back at him before an unstoppable yawn takes over her face, “C’mon lil girl, time for bed.” She gulps, thinking about all the people on the house - worrying what will happen next, 

“D’you…where am I gonna sleep?” Elvis frowns, little furrowed line marring his previously relaxed face, 

“With me?” 

“Oh,” Louise swallows, “Um, I think my parents will be expecting me - you know, Christmas morning’s all about -“ 

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll drop you home at the crack of dawn,” He winks, “-gotta make sure the house is all in order in any case anyway.” Elvis pauses, “Or, or you could invite your mama and pops over. They’d be more than welcome…nothing my mama liked more than a full house - especially at Christmas.” He’s looking at her with that earnest little boy expression again and it takes everything in her not to just suggest she should stay forever, it was so absurd that he’d want her to stay, instead of the other way around. 

“Well…maybe I could stay. And, well, I mean, I could come over in the evening? If you swear you’ll make sure I get home in time -“ He’s quick to interject, 

“Cross my heart darling,” She hums at him, and he motions the crossing of his heart across his chest, solemnly holding eye contact, “I swear.”

“Ok then, I’d love to stay.” 

Somehow, and (despite his promises) to Louise’s surprise, she’s dutifully shaken awake and dropped off home, albeit not by Elvis himself, only a few very short hours later. Coming up the driveway of her childhood home it feels almost inconceivable that she should have spent the day and night how she has, and she wonders for a brief moment if she hadn’t knocked her head or something and just hallucinated the whole affair. She’s so in her thoughts that she doesn’t yet notice, as she traipses past the lounge and kitchen where she can hear her mother singing to quickly change, a new set of boxes under the Christmas tree. Elvis’ script on the gift tags declaring “To Louise, a very good girl, from Santa.” 

taglist: (it's been so long that I've lost the list for this verse - lmk if you want to be added, or taken off!)

@lialocklear @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @thatbanditquee @lookingforrainbows @whositmcwhatsit @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @shakerattlescroll

[justasparkwritings]

Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down? 

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week. 

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx​, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of. 

Banner by me. 

Monday: Pitch Meeting

           “Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

          Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

          Today, Claire decided, that would change.  She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

          “We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

           “I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

           “Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

           “Who are those people?”

           “Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

           “What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

           “My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

           “Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

           “I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

           Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

           “I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

           “Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

           “Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

           You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

           “It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

           “I do!” Claire chimed.

           “Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

           “What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

           “You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

           “It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

           “I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

           Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

          Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

           “Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

           “You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

           “How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

           “Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

           Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

           “I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”  

           “You can’t have one,”

           “Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

           “I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

           “Well, I need their handle,”

           “Fine,”

           “And the intern,” Claire was firm.

           You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

           “Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

           “Thank you,”

           Claire rolled her eyes.

           “Jealous?” You questioned.

           “Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

           “Great,”

           “I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

           “Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

           “If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

           “Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

           “Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

           Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

           “Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

           “Okay,”

           “Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

           “I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

           “I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

           “Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

           “You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

           “What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

           “What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

           “Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

           Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

           “You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

           “Me?”

           “Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

           “He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

           “Potato, Tomato,”

           “You should talk-

           “Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

           “Fine, fine.”

           “I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

           “That’s a lie,”

           “Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.  

           “Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

           “No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

           “You should,” He suggested.

           “I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

           “Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

           “Bitchy?”

           “Your words, then she would like you,”

           “She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

           “He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

           “Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

           “You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

           “He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”  

           Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

           “If he’s not there,” You answered.

           “I can’t promise that,”

           “Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

           Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

           “Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

           “I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

           “Great!”

           “I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

           “I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

           “At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

           “Well-

           “You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

           “I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

           “That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

           “You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

           “Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

           “Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

           Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

           “I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

           “Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

           “Because I love you,”

           “Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

           “I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

           “Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

           “You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

           “Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

           “So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

           “Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

           “And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

           “Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

           “Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

           Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

           “What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

           “Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

           “I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

          Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

           “Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

          “What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

          “In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

           “No!”

           “Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.  

           “I would never,” You glowered.

           “You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

          “I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

          “Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

          “Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

          “July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

          “I, I, no!”

          “October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

          “He started it!”

          “Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

          “I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

          “Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

          “Know what?”

          “About your vendetta,”

          “It’s not a vendetta!”

          “Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

          “I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

          “His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

          “You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

          “Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

          “You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

          “Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

          “I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

          “I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

          You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

          “You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

          “We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

          “You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

          “It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

          “This is entirely personal.”

          “Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

          “No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.  

          “Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

          “I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

          “It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

          “Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

          “You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

          “Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

          “Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

          “You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.  

          “You agreed to-

          “No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

          It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

          “I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

          Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

          “Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

          As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

          “Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

          “She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

          “Did you?”

          “No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

          “Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

          “No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

          “Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

          “Until you what?”

          “Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

          “She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

          Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

          “Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

          “No, something weird is going on,”

          You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

          “I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

          “He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

          “I-

          “Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

          “What if he-

          “Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

          “Okay,”

          “I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

          “Thank you,”

          “I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

          “I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

          “I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

          Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

          “To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

          “I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

          “Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

          “You still live at the same place?”

          “No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

          “You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

          “What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

          “I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

          “I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

          “Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

          “I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.  

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

[svnflowervol666]

Ma Petite Chérie: Sweet Creature (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Harry goes out of town and leaves Tallulah with Y/N for the week. 

Author’s Note: Hiiiii. I decided to turn Ma Petite Chérie into it’s own little “thing,” so here’s another look at Harry, Tallulah and Y/N’s life! I’ve found it much easier to write in little blips rather than following a direct plot, so expect random little moments featuring the three of them. Also, this is not proofread and I am going through a period of having full blown insomnia, so I’m praying there aren’t too many mistakes. I hope you all enjoy and send any ideas, asks, or questions you have for them my way and I’ll be happy to respond! Take care and TPWK.

“I left her car seat in the garage. If she starts gettin’ fussy during the day, just put her in her room and turn on the noise machine and let her color - that usually does it. I refilled her medicine the other day, didn’t I-”

“Har-,” she shushed him, “We’ll be fine. I know the drill. Allergy meds and gummy vitamins in the morning, french vocabulary every other day, no tv before bed, and no sugar after six.”

He took a deep breath in and placed his palms on top of Y/N’s that are gripping his shoulders to ground him. He was a mess, but how could he not when one of the only people he trusted with his daughter, his mother, was away on holiday and couldn’t stay with her when he had to go on a week-long business trip? It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Y/N, he absolutely did. He just hated feeling like she thought he was using her as a free babysitter rather than the loving girlfriend she actually was. That couldn’t be further from the truth, but his anxieties always had a way of getting the best of him.

“Sorry. Always get nervous leavin’ her. Feel like something bad’s gonna happen every time and I won’t be there t’ help her.”

“It’s just a few days, bubs. She seems to like me, or at least pretends to. I’ll keep her entertained. Take her to the park and go get our nails done or something. It’ll be like one, big sleepover.”

“If yeh take her t’ the park, make sure yeh put sunscreen o-”

“Harry,” she’s stern and it shut Harry up immediately.

“Right,” he paused and took another intense, labored breath in an attempt to stop himself from canceling his plans and just staying home with Y/N and Tallulah for the week.

“She does like yeh. Asks about yeh all the time when you’re gone. Loves yeh a lot, actually. We both do.”

That word used to scare him, love. He realized long ago that he had only ever truly been in love with his daughter, so making himself vulnerable to sharing those same emotions with another person was genuinely terrifying. But each and every time, Y/N does something to remind him that it is well-worth the internal struggle he’s endured. 

The proud smile that adorned Y/N’s face at his words is another one of those moments. It’s full of light and reassurance that his baby will be perfectly safe and healthy while he tended to business an entire continent away.

“I love you both as well. Might have a slight preference towards Lulah, but it’s nothing to worry yourself over.”

“Swear yeh only datin’ me because of her,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“You’re absolutely right,” she scoffed, “I only come over five nights out of the week to watch The Little Mermaid with her and I just tolerate you.”

Harry laughed, a genuine cackle that reared his cavernous dimples and turned the apples of his cheeks a pale shade of pink.

“I’d do the same,” he said with a shrug.

“Harry, you’re stalling. You’re gonna miss your flight if you don’t get on the road soon. I don’t think you want me to kick you out of the door.”

He feigned ponderance and tapped his index finger on his chin.

“I do love it when yeh mean t’ me.”

“Harry, go.”

“Alright, alright. I’m leaving. Just...check in with me every once in a while. Let me know how she’s doin’, yeah? I’ll call every night t’ talk t’ her.”

“Was already expecting you to.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated.

He cleared his throat, heart weighing heavy in his chest. He knew he was supposed to leave for the airport ten minutes ago, but he couldn’t find himself to wheel his luggage out to the trunk of his car.

“Goodbye, Harry,” Y/N whispers in hushed tones.

She reached up on her tiptoes to plant a chaste kiss on his bright pink lips, which he then took upon himself to deepen by loosely wrapping his fingers around her throat and applying just enough pressure to make her contemplate giving into his obvious hesitance about leaving.

“Tell Lulah I love her when she wakes up, okay? Feel like shit leavin’ her in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll tell her first thing.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, Harry,” she smiles, “See you in a week.”

//

Their first few days went by smoothly, a little too smoothly, Y/N thinks. She’d let her pick one activity to do each day and it seemed like to Harry and Y/N, she was having the time of her life. 

Monday was the park, an obvious choice for a toddler. Tallulah wore herself out so much that she’d gone to bed that night with no trouble whatsoever.

Tuesday was a pampering day. Y/N had tried to get them into her preferred nail salon for pedicures, but there were no empty slots so she’d made up Harry’s master bathroom to look like a spa. She painted Tallulah’s nails blue (because Tallulah said blue was her dad’s favorite color), ran her a bubble bath with more bubbles than Harry ever allowed, and even let her put on some of her expensive face mask cream (Harry nearly shit himself out of pure adoration when he received a selfie of the two of them with pink goop smeared all over their faces and cucumbers over their eyes).

Tallulah’s request for Wednesday was a trip to the carnival that was in town, in which Y/N spent nearly fifteen dollars trying to win a stuffed bear for her but was unsuccessful. They went home with a real, live goldfish instead that Tallulah named Carrot because she claimed he looked like her favorite vegetable - she told Tallulah not to mention it to Harry and that she’d break the news to him later. She even let Tallulah have sugar after six o’clock (what Harry knew wouldn’t hurt him and besides, she told Y/N that she’d never had cotton candy before and Y/N totally wanted bragging rights for introducing her to basically a two-year-old’s fever dream of eating pink clouds).

She hadn’t asked about Harry once.

It wasn’t until Wednesday night after the carnival and her bath and daily FaceTime call with him that she began to get antsy with Y/N, claiming that she wanted her dad to tuck her in and read her a bedtime story. No matter how many times Y/N told her that Harry couldn’t do that but that he would be home in a few days, Tallulah didn’t understand why her dad wasn’t there to give her cuddles and rub her back until she fell asleep like he often did. Eventually, her exhaustion caught up to her and she gave in to the need for sleep, but Y/N had a feeling that that wouldn’t be the end of her tantrum.

It was nearly eleven o’clock, and Y/N was in the living room enjoying a glass of red wine from Harry’s vast collection of alcohol that he kept in his office (for some reason he had an irrational fear that Tallulah would somehow get into it, so he kept it locked away in a room where she wasn’t allowed in). The fermented concoction had almost lulled her to into a light slumber right there on the couch in the middle of a documentary about how agriculture influenced climate change when she heard the piercing cries of a toddler coming from down the hall.

Y/N rushed towards Tallulah’s room, all effects of the wine immediately dissipating as her mind went to the worst possible scenario. She’d fallen off her bed and hurt herself, she was having an allergic reaction, there was a strange man in her room trying to kidnap her. But there was seemingly nothing wrong with Tallulah when Y/N flung her bedroom door open so quickly she almost broke the knob.

“What’s wrong, Lulah?” she asked as she approached her on the bed that sat low to the ground.

Tallulah was red in the face, covered in a thin layer of sweat, and tears continuously flowed from her bright, green eyes that looked exactly like Harry’s and even shifted a teal blue in the sunlight.

Y/N’s heart sunk when she heard it. Over and over again. Nothing else. Only crying out one word.

“Daddy.”

She didn’t want to overwhelm her, so Y/N laid down next to Tallulah and pulled her close. As she brushed her curls away from where they were matted to her sweaty forehead, Y/N cooed her reptitiously in an attempt to calm her down. After about three minutes of incesant crying and copious amounts of fat, shiny tears, Y/N needed a better idea.

“I know you miss him, bubs. I miss him too. But he’ll be home soon, okay? I know something that might make you feel better. Do you want to come in daddy’s room with me?”

It was quiet and muffled over her blubbery cries, but Y/N heard a tiny, “yes,” escape through her lips and then she was scooping Tallulah up into her arms and carrying her off to the master bedroom.

She placed her in the middle of Harry’s bed and quickly began digging through Harry’s dresser for what she was looking for. When she found it, she ran back to Tallulah’s curled up body on the mattress.

“Okay, whenever I miss your dad, I put on one of his shirts because it smells like him. It always makes me feel like he’s close to me. Do you want try that?” 

The toddler had calmed down dramatically since she’d left her own bed, most likely due to exhaustion from crying so much in such a short period of time. She gave Y/N a gentle nod and let her take off her matching set of pajamas and replace them with the shirt of Harry’s that dropped almost all of the way to her feet. It was a white t-shirt with the words “Dream Boat” screened onto the fabric, which was perhaps a bit controversial for his two-year-old daughter to be wearing, but it was the smallest shirt of his that she could find. Otherwise, it’d be falling off of her shoulders and she wouldn’t be able to move.

“Can you smell it?” Y/N bunches the fabric in her hands and raises it to Tallulah’s nose.

“Smells like daddy, doesn’t it?”

Tallulah inhaled the best she could through her stuffy nose.

“‘mells good,” she whimpered, reaching her short arms to wrap around Y/N’s neck.

“Do you want to lie in daddy’s bed with me for a little bit? You can sleep in here, if you want,” Y/N spoke softly into Tallulah’s hair while she held her.

Y/N felt a nod against her chest and that was all it took for her to climb towards the pillow with Tallulah in her arms. She laid Tallulah on Harry’s side of the bed, hoping that the extra scent he left in the sheets would further will her back to sleep.

And it worked.

After reaffirming what felt like a million times that Harry would cuddle her for an entire day straight when he got home because he missed her just as much as she missed him, her eyes slowly shut and peace took over. Y/N thought the coast was clear and a crisis had been averted, and she also remembered that she hadn’t taken her makeup off yet. So she wriggled Tallulah off of her chest and slipped stealthily out of the bed like a burglar attempting to not get caught and tiptoed away into the bathroom to wash her face.

Right when she was patting her face dry with one of the plush towels on the rack in Harry’s bathroom, she realized that the coast was indeed, not clear, and Tallulah began wailing once again.

“It’s okay, Lulah. I’m right here,” Y/N consoled the small girl that looked even smaller in Harry’s king-sized bed.

But she wasn’t interested in Y/N at all. Her sobbing was louder than the last and it was Harry’s name that fell from her weepy lips like it was the only thing keeping her alive. This time, Y/N knew there was nothing that could soothe her besides Harry himself.

“Here, baby,” Y/N wriggled the toddler out of her arms and reached over to the nightstand to grab her cell phone, “Let’s see if daddy’s awake and maybe you can talk to him again, okay?”

“Okay,” Tallulah huffed, but it sounded more like “o-tay.”

Under any other circumstances, Y/N would be awing at the way she said certain words, but now, she just wanted Tallulah to go back to sleep. She was just as exhausted as Tallulah and was starting to become overwhelmed by the nature of everything that was happening.

Harry picked up her FaceTime on the second ring, eyes wide and concerning even though Y/N could tell that her call had woken him up.

“What’s goin’ on? ‘S she alright?”

Her cries that he heard through his speaker broke his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to jump on the next flight home to hold his sweet little girl until all of the tears had dried from her face.

“She’s been crying for the last hour, Har. She wants you. Maybe talk to her a little and see if she calms down?”

She heard Harry curse under his breath and rub the sleep out of his eyes. There was a sense of relief that washed over him when he realized that everything was alright and his daughter wasn’t in any immediate danger, but he didn’t quite feel better by any means. Y/N tilted the phone down towards Tallulah who had taken to rubbing the corner of Harry’s pillowcase between her thumb and forefinger.

“Lulah, baby. Talk t’ me. What’s the matter?”

“Daddy?” her face lifted from where it was buried in her stuffed elephant that she’d had since she was a baby and looked up to see her father’s face lit up on Y/N’s phone screen.

“Hi, lovie. Why’re yeh cryin’?”

“Want you come home,” she pouted, her bottom lip jutting out in a way that made her look far too adorable for how sad she really was.

“I know yeh do, petal. I’ll be home soon. I promise. Then, we can have a big cuddle. Does that sound good?”

“You come home tomorrow?” she asked, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

Harry internally cringed when he saw her wipe it on his sheets, but he was obviously not going to scold her for it at the moment.

“Not tomorrow, but soon. I’m not goin’ anywhere for a long time after this so it’ll be just me and you for a bit.”

Tallulah grew upset by this, and understandably so. Her dad always gave her cuddles when she was sad. Why was he telling her that he couldn’t?

He sensed her tears springing back to life, to which he quickly diverted her attention away from.

“Tell me more about what yeh did with Y/N today at the carnival, bug.”

After sucking up a few slobbery breaths, Tallulah was able to speak to Harry again.

“We got a fishy.”

Damnit.

Harry’s ears perked up.

“A fishy? At the carnival? How did yeh do that?”

“Y/N gotted it.”

“She did?”

Y/N knew Harry was not only talking to Tallulah but also to her. A tone that suggested Y/N had some explaining to do, but he wasn’t going to bring that up now.

“Yeah, she winned a game.”

“Does the fishy have a name?”

“Carrot.”

This made Harry snort, as he was not expected that one.

“And did Y/N get Carrot a nice bowl and some food?”

“Mhmm,” Tallulah nodded, “He’s in the kitchen.”

“Well, that sounds lovely. I can’t wait to meet Carrot. Gonna give him cuddles when I get home, too.”

“He said he loves you.”

“That’s very sweet of him. Tell Carrot I love him, too.”

There was a long pause in which Harry, Tallulah, and Y/N all yawned, clearly overtaken by the urge to fall into a deep sleep.

“It’s really late, Lulah. Yeh think yeh can go back t’ bed for me?”

Tallulah brazenly shook her head from side to side, no. 

Harry sighed heavily, his frustration and sadness becoming all too much for him to bear. He was nervous to do what he was about to offer, but he knew it was the last resort in anyone in this scenario getting any sleep whatsoever.

“What if I sing yeh your song? Will that make yeh feel better?”

He watched as her eyes light up with a glint of joy and he knew that that was possibly the cure to everyone’s problems. 

“Peas?”

“Of course, baby. Thank yeh for usin’ yeh manners.”

Y/N laid the phone down so she could reposition Tallulah in her lap as Harry’s melodic voice began to pour from the speakers.

It was her favorite song in the entire world. No matter what was wrong or how upset she was, the second he sang the first few notes and the sound registered in her ears, Tallulah was always able to bring herself back down to earth. 

The first time he sang it to her, she was only ten weeks old, just two weeks after she was brought into his life. He first thought it was a one-off chance that the song had lulled her to sleep, but he quickly found out he was wrong and that she took a genuine liking to it. He’s always assumed it brought on a sense of familiarity and comfort to her whenever she felt like her tiny, two-year-old life was crashing down on her. 

Y/N had never actually seen him sing to her. She’d heard it a time or two through the door of her bedroom when she stayed over, but she’d never asked Harry about it. She had always let their song be just that - their song.

Hopefully, and he genuinely means hopefully, the trick works just as well as it usually does despite him not being there physically. He’s got to be up at five and he refuses to hang up the phone until his baby isn’t sad anymore.

It took a bit longer than usual, but by the second round of the chorus, her eyelids were heavy and the grip she had on Y/N’s lotus pendant had weakened. Hell, the song almost put Y/N to sleep as well. Had she not been worried sick over waking Harry up in the middle of the night and his daughter spilling the beans about the fucking fish, she would have been out well before Tallulah. She loved his singing voice, but she only ever got to hear it when he bopping along to a song on the radio or when he was really, really drunk. 

As the last few notes of the song trailed to silence, both Y/N and Harry took a peek at Tallulah through the phone screen, eager to see if she was fully asleep or just in a state of tranquility. Sure enough, she was out cold.

“I think she’s asleep,” Y/N whispered.

“Thank god,” Harry muttered, “Bloody awful, that was. She’d been cryin’ like that the whole time?”

“Pretty much. Sorry for calling so late, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“‘S alright. Honestly, I was waiting for it. When she stays with mum, I usually get a call or two just like this. By the way, was she wearin’ my ‘Dream Boat’ shirt?”

Y/N starts to chuckle but remembers there is a fragile (both physically and emotionally) child on her chest and she can’t move too much in fear of waking her back up.

“Yeah, she is. I told her I wear your shirts and sleep on your side of the bed when I miss you because they smell like you and thought it would calm her down. It kinda did, but she woke up when I left to go to the bathroom.”

“Christ,” Harry wipes his face with his large, ringed hands.

“What?”

“That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. I love you. A lot.”

“I love you a lot, too,” Y/N grinned.

After a brief moment, Harry talks again.

“So, what’s this about a fish named Carrot?”

Y/N grits her teeth together and sucks in a deep breath.

“Have you seen her face? I know you have. What was I supposed to tell her? No? Got that fucker on the first try after spending seventeen dollars trying to win her a stuffed animal.”

A laugh from deep within Harry’s belly reached the surface and he stifled it with his fist.

“You’ve got a point, princess.”

“I can get rid of him, if you want. I figured she’d get bored and forget about him in a few days, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

“No,” Harry insists, “Keep him. Teach her how t’ take care of him. Give her a responsibility. Maybe she’ll stop harrassin’ me about gettin’ a damn cat.”

“Already done,” Y/N smiles proudly at the camera.

“She knows we feed him in the mornings and she told me she’d help clean his bowl once a week. Even taught her how to say ‘fish’ in french.”

“Have I already told yeh that I love yeh? ‘Cause I do.”

“You did. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

Harry took a moment to just look at her. Her eyes were bloodshot and he knew she probably felt like she’d just been to hell and back, but there, with his baby girl on her chest, she had never looked more beautiful. He was physically incapable of stopping the words that left his mouth.

“Move in with me.”

“Hmm?” she lifted her head from where it was resting halfway on her pillow and halfway on Harry’s as if to see if he really just said what she thought he said.

“Only if yeh want to. I know it’s a bigger deal because of Lulah, so I get it if yeh still want yeh space. Just...really want yeh around all of the time. And I know she does, too.”

Y/N smiled from ear to ear and placed her free hand that wasn’t holding the phone on top of Tallulah’s curls. She’d been wondering when this conversation would happen, given that she sleeps over at Harry’s more than she does her own apartment and she’d slowly taken over half of the drawers in his bathroom and three shelves in his closet; she just hadn’t expected it to come at midnight, directly after his daughter had the biggest meltdown she’d ever witnessed.

“If I say yes, will you sing to me like that every night?”

Harry blushed beet red as he breathed heavily through his nose.

“If that’s what it takes. Then, yes.”

“Think Lulah’s strong enough to help me carry some boxes?”

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

The Perfect Morning

You have been asking for it loud and clearly so I decided to write the Sprace baby you’ve all been waiting for. This is part of the “Life in the ER'' Series but a rare moment that doesn’t take place in the hospital. There are curse words and mentions of a hospital/working in a hospital. As always, feedback would be wonderful and would make me very happy. And if you have anything you’d like to see happen in the series, just let me know - I’m always looking for new situations to put our favorite characters into!

April 17, 2021

The house was quiet when he woke. It hadn’t been that quiet in almost six months and his first thoughts were holy shit. The second was questioning the time. He rolled over and looked at the green numbers of the clock - 7:34.

Running a hand over his face, he sighed before letting the hand flop to the other side of the bed. Empty. Cold. Sitting up, he blinked a couple of times, allowing his eyes to scan the room.

“Spottie?” He called, pushing himself off the bed and heading towards the room across the hall.

Pushing open the door, he was surprised to see it was empty. The dark wooden crib they had spent hours debating about sat across from the door, a light blanket thrown over the side. A mint green onesie was haphazardly thrown near the hamper and a stuffed elephant was nearby but otherwise nothing was out of place.

Continuing on his journey, he headed towards the living room thinking his husband and young child could be there but he came up empty once more. The dog was even missing which caused him to pause in his hunt.

At that moment, he fell in love with his husband a bit more. Here it was a rare morning that Spot didn’t have an early morning shift at the hospital; yet he had gotten up, taken care of their child and puppy so he could sleep in a bit.

Their lives were flipped upside down with the adoption of their daughter. It had been a period of adjustment for all of them, especially for their puppy, Sassie. From the moment they brought their little girl home, life had completely changed for the good. The two of them had always been a great team; however, they didn’t know how good of a team they would be until the doctor handed them Mackenzie Jayne Higgins-Conlon and wished them congratulations.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Race grinned putting in creamer before heading out to their front porch. He shouldn’t be surprised Spot would do this - it’s just him and his little ways of showing love. Taking a seat, he took a sip of his coffee as he waited for the rest of his family to return from whatever adventure they had gone on.

Relaxing into the chair, he sighed, listening to the birds chirp in the trees as he held the warm mug in his hands. Just as he went to kick his feet up, Sassie came bounding up the stairs, with her leash dragging behind her. Putting his mug on the table, he bent over and rubbed his hands up and down her sides, wishing her a good morning.

“Where’s dad, Sass?” He asked, looking down the street for him. What he saw caught him off guard.

Spot was pushing the jogging stroller that Jack and Kat had gotten them as a shower gift, shirtless, hair pushed back by a headband and sunglasses over his eyes. Race took a moment to publically ogle his husband, appreciating the physique that Spot effortlessly maintained. Race was careful not to let his jaw drop at how utterly gorgeous his husband was. There were very few times he could unabashedly stare at his husband and he was going to take full advantage of it.

Unclipping Sassie’s leash, he opened the front door for her to go inside before he bounded down the stairs to where Kenzie and Spot were. Race couldn’t help but catcall and whistle as he came closer to the two. “Hey good lookin.”

Grinning, Spot looked up from where he was unclipping Mack. “Hey yourself.”

“Have I mentioned how utterly gorgeous you are lately?” Race saunted closer to his husband and daughter with a shit eating grin on his face.

Spot adjusted Mack in his arms before throwing his head back and laughing. “Right now I’m a sweaty mess but thanks for the compliment. I wanted to give you a chance to sleep in since you’ve been taking night duty.”

“Sweaty mess or not, you’re hot. Own that. And thanks, I appreciate it.” Race leaned over and kissed him. “Did little miss enjoy the run?”

Spot kissed him back before handing Mack over to him. He leaned down to grab something out of the bottom of the stroller before giving Race a bright smile. “She was fussy when we first started but seemed to settle down as I got into a rhythm. I did about a 45 minutes run. We ran through town, picked up breakfast before heading back.”

“You’re my hero.” Race said, walking back up the stairs to the front porch. “Do you want a cup of coffee or water?”

Spot waved him off. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Do you need anything before I do that?”

“Nah, we'll just hang out here. If she wants, send Sassie out here.” Race pressed a kiss to Kenzie’s forehead. “Come back out when you’re done.”

Spot dropped kisses to both Race and Mack’s foreheads before slipping into the house, only to open the door again to let Sassie out.

Settling Mack with her back against his chest, Race relaxed in the chair, listening to Mack babble to herself. “Did you have fun with daddy this morning, Kenzie?”

She tried to adjust herself to see Race. He picked her up so she was standing on his legs as she continued her babble. Race continued his conversation with her as she tried to put her fingers in his mouth. He playfully ate them as she dissolved into baby giggles. They continued that game until she caught sight of her puppy.

Soon she was leaning forward to try to pet Sassie. Putting her on the porch floor, she babbled to and crawled over Sassie as the dog watched her young sister protectively.

He heard the door open and close just as he took the last sip of his coffee. He smiled gratefully at Spot as he spied the cups of coffee in his hands. Spot handing him one with a smirk. “Thanks. Feeling better?”

“Much less grimly and sweaty.” Spot took a seat, watching Sassie and Kenzie with a proud smile. “What’s the plan for the day?”

Race shrugged. “As far as I know, there are no plans. Jack and Kat mentioned getting together but nothing was ever put into place.”

“If they don’t reach out, I’m all in favor of a lazy day. We haven’t had one of those in a while so that’s my vote.” Spot said, stretching his legs out in front of him as he reached out and laced his fingers with Race’s.

Race nodded, squeezing their hands. “If I haven’t mentioned it lately, I’m proud of the life we’ve built. Perfect husband, perfect daughter and dog. Jobs we both love and great friends and family.”

“Sap.” Spot was quick to tease him but squeezed his hand. “I love our life too. Love you Racer.”

“Love you too Spottie.” Race leaned over and kissed him. “What did you bring for breakfast?”

Spot chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s always food with you.”

“Not always.” Raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively, Race smirked. “But I’m hungry for food right now.”

Spot pushed himself off the chair before sauntering into the house and returning with the white bag from earlier. “I got a couple of different things - didn’t know what you would be in the mood for.”

“Thanks snookums.” Race opened the bag, pulling out a cinnamon twist donut before taking a bit. “When do you work next?”

“Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday this week.” Spot drug through the bag taking out a donut. “Plums is working Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday with me so it’ll be a good couple of shifts.”

“Kenzie in daycare Wednesday and Friday?” Race inquired trying to keep the schedule fight.

Spot nodded. “Yea. You’ve got what seven weeks left of the school year?”

“I think. Days are starting to blend together.” Race sighed. “I’m just ready for summer.”

“We’ll have to figure out what we’re going to do. I have a couple of weeks of vacation that need to be used up before September.” Spot gave him a look. “Maybe we can head to the mountains or a beach. She’ll love the water.”

Race nodded. “Maybe Kat, Jack, Al, and Finchie would want to do something, at least for a few days.”

“That’ll be fun. We know how much Kenz loves Addie.” Spot grinned, thinking about the trouble the two would eventually get up to, as the two were only 4 months apart.

Race groaned. “No talking about the two of them growing up. They’re 5 and 9 months old and that’s all my poor heart can take.”

“Calm down papa bear. She’s still our little girl and Addie is still our little niece.” Spot squeezed his hand. “But I do love your idea of making it a family affair. Maybe momma and Smalls would want in.”

Race relaxed in his chair, thinking about all the adventures they would have ahead of them. With Spot and Kenzie by his side, he was content and happy. A thought popped into his head as a sly grin crossed his lips. “So, uh, Spottie . . . wanna tell me how you’re such a ripped dad?”

Spot threw his head back laughing before reaching over and shoving Race’s shoulder. “I could but you wouldn’t be able to keep up with me.”

“Is that a challenge?” Race raised an eyebrow in a warning.

Spot snorted loudly. “Race you complain when you have to walk to the mailbox to get the mail - no way you’re running 45 minutes with me.”

“I can kick your ass boxing.” Race gave him a look as Spot sighed. “Want me to reserve the ring for next weekend?”

Picking up Kenzie, Spot gave him a look. “Sure and we can see who’s king of the ring. You’ll always reign supreme running circles around me but I might be able to take you in the ring.”

“Keep up with the trash talk . . . we’ll see who’s still standing and who will get the bragging rights.” Spot gave him a knowing look.

Race held out his hand as Spot interlocked his hand with Race’s with a grin. “You’re on.”

He watched Spot tickle their daughter’s belly as a shrill laugh escaped her mouth. She pushed at his hands as he looked down on her fondly. “Hey Spottie?”

“Yea Race?” Spot looked up from their daughter with a smile on his face.

“If I haven’t said it, you’re a really good dad. I love watching you two interact.” Race said as a fond smile crossed his face.

Spot leaned over and kissed Race. “You’re a really good papa with her. We make a pretty good team, huh?”

Race nodded, reaching over and tickling Kenzie’s stomach as the girl looked at her dads with a gummy smile. In Race’s book, there was no better place he’d rather be than on their front porch with his husband and daughter.

So what did you think? Feedback would be wonderful. If there's something specific you want to see in this verse, feel free to send me a message.

[hawkinspostbite]

STRIKE

Words: 8,116

MASTERLIST

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.

MONDAY

Joanna stood right outside her locker, Carol, Nancy, and Diana standing around her. “So, strangely enough, I had to leave Billy’s last night. It was honestly embarrassing.” She sighed. “It’s never happened before, but I hit my sex breaking point.”

“Steve is unbelievable.” Di groaned, receiving questionable looks from the others. “Oh, I mean unbelievable in the way that he’s ridiculous. Checking on me every five seconds. I’m fine, just do what you’re doing, Jesus Christ.”

“If only I had your problem, I feel like Billy completely forgets I exist. Absolutely no control, and not a care for me.” Jo sighed.

“If I get within three feet of Tommy, he can’t keep his hands off of me. I can’t stand it.” Carol whined, examining her fingernails.

“Well at least your boyfriend likes you, I couldn’t tell you the last time Jonathan and I slept together.” Nancy counteracted.

“Jesus, we’re quite the mess, aren’t we?” Carol laughed pathetically. A few moments of silence passed.

“What if we went on a sex strike?” Jo spoke. Carol, Nancy, and Di looked at her in shock. “What-“

“That’s honestly not a bad idea.” Nancy said.

“Are you serious? That’s crazy.” Carol shrilled.

“Quiet down!” Jo swatted at her hand. “It’s not that crazy. It’ll be fun to watch them squirm.”

“They won’t even realize anything’s different.” Carol replied.

“One week, maybe not even- One week to prove to them that us and our needs are just as important as their’s.” Jo was becoming desperate to prove to the girls that this was in fact, a great idea. “By Friday, Carol, if Tommy can go without jumping your bones; Di, if Steve stops worrying about you; and Nancy, if Jonathan can’t keep his hand off of you, I win, and I get bragging rights. If not, I will treat you all to a shopping spree at the mall, no limit. And you can all say you told me so.”

“What about you?” Nancy asked.

“What about me?”

“What if you can’t get Billy to tend to you?”

“Then I’ll just look like a fool and continue to suffer.” Jo shrugged. “What do you say?”

“I say we get other girls in on this.” Di spoke up. The others look questioningly at her. “We can’t be the only four girls in Hawkins with bedroom issues. We should spread the word.”

“Damn.” Carol mumbled.

“You’re a genius.” Jo leaned over and kissed Di on the cheek. “Starting now, the female students of Hawkins high school are on a sex strike!” The four girls cheered, drawing the attention of passerby in the hallway. “We have to spread the word. I’ll take art.”

“I can cover gym.” Carol said.

“I have a double-period of English.” Di said.

“I guess I’ll cover science.” Nancy spoke.

The first period bell rang, interrupting their small power-trip. “Meet at lunch?” Jo asked. The others nodded, each of them smirking to themselves. The four girls went their separate ways, going to spread the word of their great idea.

Carol had gym first period. Normally she would stand, grumbling to herself against the bleachers, but today she almost made Mr. Sweeney keel over in shock from her participation in volleyball and her friendliness towards other students.

Nancy had science second period, and luckily for her, they had a group lab that day. Small notes, written in code were passed from female to female in the class.

Di had a double-period of honors English third and fourth, so her friend’s new plan made for interesting conversation between the girls at break.

Jo had art right before lunch, which made it a little more difficult to spread word, due to it being such a quiet class. But most of the work had already been done for her, because within the small whispers of the classroom, she heard talk of her master plan to rule against men.

Jo walked into the cafeteria, where she found Carol sitting with Tommy and Billy at their usual lunch table. “Hey babe.” Billy reached out to her, like he did every day. Jo ignored him, standing at the head of the table and seeing Nancy and Di waiting patiently at an empty table in the corner of the room.

“Carol, did you forget about that project we’re doing?” Jo whipped her head to look at her friend. “The others are waiting.”

“Oh shit! Yeah the project, totally forgot.” She pried herself away from Tommy’s grip, grabbing her bag and standing up.

“Hey, we don’t have a project in any class.” Billy said, his face twisting in confusion.

“Well we do.” Jo shrugged. “Super top-secret. You’re not allowed to know… And we’re pressed for time, sorry, bye.” She dragged Carol by her sleeve away from the table.

“Close one.” Carol sighed, sitting down next to Di.

“Yeah, I didn’t think I would’ve had to track you down though.” Jo rolled her eyes and sat next to Nancy.

“So have you heard the word around town yet?” Di asked proudly.

“Yeah, not much to talk about in a double-period of English is there?” Carol sneered.

“Jesus, must you be such a bitch all the time?” Jo snapped.

“Seriously?” Nancy groaned.

“I think the word is sufficiently spread.”

“I heard some freshman whispering about it in the hallway before third.” Carol smiled. “It’s definitely sufficiently spread.”

“So what’s the next move?” Nancy asked.

“We should have a party.” Jo said.

“I can’t host, my parents literally never leave the house.” Nancy sighed.

“I can’t either, my mom’s still pissed about the hole in the deck from the fourth of July.” Carol frowned.

The girls looked at Di. “Not even in the realm of possibility.”

“Fine, I can host.” Jo groaned. “I’ll just tell my dad to go away for the weekend or something.”

“He would do that?” Carol asked. “Like if you said, “dad just go away for the weekend”, he would?”

“Um, yes?”

“What if we made flyers?” Di asked. “Like maybe wallet-sized or something, so it would be harder for the guys to come across.”

“I could draw one up pretty quickly.” Jo shrugged.

“If we can find a way to make copies somehow, we can each give them out, and make official.”

Jo looked down at her watch. “There’s enough time for me to make a rough copy of the poster if I go now.” She gathered her things, standing from the bench.

“I’ll come with.” Carol grabbed her things as well.

“We can meet at my place after school.” Nancy said. “Mike will probably have his friends there, I’m sure one of them can help us figure out how to make copies of the poster.”

“If Max is there-“

“She would give her life for you Jo.” Di chuckled, making Jo smile.

“Alright, we’ll meet in the parking lot after school, see you then.”

Across the lunchroom, Billy watched as Jo and Carol left the room in a hurry. He had watched as they spent ten minutes talking with Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington’s new girlfriend, who he didn’t quite know the name of yet. That, the fact that Jo had left so suddenly last night, and her distance from him all day rubbed him the wrong way. “What do you think of that?” He asked Tommy.

“Those two being weird?”

“Yeah.”

“Well they’re always weird.”

Billy rolled his eyes, unsatisfied with his friend’s response. Hopefully, for both their sakes, Jo would stop being so strange.

In the empty art room, Jo scrambled quickly to find two pieces of poster-board and a marker. “So what’s the game-plan here?” Carol asked, sliding her backpack onto the big wooden table.

“A very rough draft of a sexy, female-empowering poster.” She concentrated on the paper as she scribbled Girls STRIKE at the top of the page, looking over at Carol questioningly.

“Yes, keep going.” Carol smiled.

Next, some random words at the bottom of the page, just to fill in the space. “What do I put in the middle?”

“Lips? Lipstick? The sign for females, you know, the one with the circle-”

“How about this?” Jo quickly drew the silhouette of a girl. “She can wear a dress. Or maybe not?”

“Right now she can just be a stick-figure.”

“But you get the idea?”

“Yeah I get the idea, I think it’s hot.”

“Well then we have our poster.” Jo high-fived Carol and rolled the paper up as the bell rang. The girls made their way to Jo’s locker where they placed the poster into safety.

At the end of the day, Jo retrieved the poster from her locker, meeting the others in the parking lot by Nancy’s car. “Come on, we’ve gotta go before the guys get out here!” Di squealed.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Jo and Carol climbed into the back of the car, leaving Di up front with Nancy and the middle for Mike.

“Hi boys.” Jo smiled at them as they climbed into the car.

“Just two of you today?” Nancy asked.

“Max, Dustin, and Will are coming over in a little bit. Max had to go home first and Steve’s gonna bring them over later. Hey.” Mike replied, suddenly noticing Jo’s appearance.

“We have a project.” Jo replied to Mike’s question he had yet to ask.

“Cool.”

Upon arrival at the Wheeler’s house, the four girls practically sprinted up to Nancy’s room, locking the door behind them. Jo pulled the poster out of her bag, laying it out on Nancy’s bed. “That’s…” Di began.

“Rough.” Nancy said.

“Yes, thank you.”

“But I think we get the picture.” Di smiled.

“So what exactly is the plan for the party? How are we supposed to keep guys from showing up?” Nancy asked.

“Or finding out?” Carol added.

“We aren’t.” Jo replied. “I mean, we’re supposed to try, but you know there’s no way to completely keep it from happening.”

“It’s like Hargrove has a built-in party-detector

“We need to try our best to make sure that other girls keep it as quiet as possible.” Di added.

“We should have a dress-code for the party.” Carole burst out.

“Like…?” Jo asked.

“Black and red.” Carole grinned. “Those are powerful colors.”

“Leather and lace optional?” Jo said, jokingly.

“That’s going on the poster!” Nancy agreed.

The girls continued to work out the details of the party, arrival time, alcohol, music, etcetera, and Jo noticed that Steve had dropped off the other kids. She left Nancy’s room, opening the door to the basement, she was met with immense noise. All six sets of eyes turned to look at her. “Max, can I talk to you upstairs quick?”

Max, confused, followed Jo up the stairs, back to Nancy’s room. Upon seeing the poster on the bed, she stopped dead in her tracks. “What is going on?”

“We need your help.” Nancy said.

“What are you guys doing? Organizing some weird sex strike or something?” Max laughed nervously.

“Actually, yes.” Jo said.

“You’re joking- That was a joke. Are you serious?” Jo nodded. “That’s disgusting, I did not need to know that.”

“Relax Maxine, sex is a part of life-“ Carol smiled.

“Jesus Christ, Carol! The last thing I need is Billy finding out that we gave Max a bootleg sex-ed class in Nancy’s bedroom, oh my god.” Jo snapped at her.

“So what exactly did you need help with?” Max walked up to the bed, further examining the poster.

“We need help making copies of this, to pass out to other girls.” Jo answered.

“We were thinking maybe wallet-sized, or a little bigger?” Di added.

“I know how to copy and print and everything, but we figured that the schools wouldn’t be too happy knowing that we were producing sex-strike posters to hand out on campus.” Nancy shrugged.

“Yeah, I can imagine…” Max sighed.

“But we know you have an in at the library-“ Jo began.

“I work there on weekends, yes.”

“Do you think we could get in this week to make copies?” Jo smiled. “Please Max, I’ll do anything. I’ll take Billy off your case for as long as I can, I’ll even take you and your friends out for pizza and ice cream next week. Literally anything, just please get us twenty minutes in the library copy room.”

Jo was practically on the floor, begging Max. She pursed her lips. “You and Nancy pick me up after school tomorrow. I’ll tell Marissa that I need the copy machine for a school project.”

“Thank you so much Max!” Jo jumped up from the floor, wrapping her arms around the younger girl.

“You owe me so much.”

“I’ve never broken a promise before.” Jo held her pinkie out, locking it with Max’s.

Max left Nancy’s room, still feeling slightly uncomfortable, and she rejoined her friends in the basement. “What did she want?” Will asked.

“Something stupid about my brother.” Max rolled her eyes, playing it off.

“I still don’t understand how they’re together.” Lucas said.

“What do you mean?” Max asked.

“Your brother is like the biggest asshole on planet Earth, and Jo is like-“

“The total opposite!” Dustin interrupted. “She’s into art, and she’s quiet, and she’s nice to us. I don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it either.” Lucas agreed.

“Me either.” Mike said.

“I don’t get it just as much as you guys.” Max shrugged.

Upstairs, Jo had rolled the poster back up, in preparation to leave. “I’ve got to head out before it gets too dark.”

“Prince Bad-ass in his blue chariot isn’t going to come give you a lustrous ride all the way to Trestle road?” Carol snickered.

Jo patted at the poster in her hand. “Nope, it would ruin the plan.”

“He’s gonna be pretty pissed when he finds out you walked home by yourself.”

“So come with me?” Jo raised her eyebrows. “You can spend the night. We’ll stop at your house, you can pick up some clothes.”

Carol sighed. “I suppose I could.” She turned to gather her things. “Your dad home? He gonna let us drink?”

“It’s Wednesday for god’s sake.” Jo rolled her eyes. “Di, you wanna walk?”

“No, I’m gonna hang here until Steve comes for Dustin, but thanks anyway.”

“Be careful.” Nancy waved them goodbye.

“Play it cool, see you tomorrow!” Jo yelled back.

The two girls began their sunset-trek from Maple street to Pine, where they stopped at Carol’s house. Her mother was at the grocery store, and her father had yet to return from work, but her older brother was there. “Hey, we’re gonna need you to get us some supplies for a party Friday.” Carol said, writing a quick note to her parents about her whereabouts.

“Don’t I get an invite?” He asked.

Carol snickered. “Not with that thing hanging between your legs.”

“Sorry, girls only.” Jo shrugged. Carol and Jo retreated into her room briefly, for Carol to pack an overnight bag. Her phone began to ring. “I didn’t know you got your own line?”

“It’s the latest addition.” Carol set her bag down and walked over to the phone. “As you can imagine, only one person really calls it. And I’m sure that’s who this is now- Hello?”

Surely it was Tommy.

“Yeah I’m sleeping over at Jo’s.

I know we were at Nancy’s all night, for that project we told you about at lunch?

“Uh, well- What class is this project for?” She held the receiver to her shoulder, blocking sound from traveling to Tommy.

“Art?” Jo answered, questionably.

“It’s an art project Jo has. She needed us all together but she has to work with us separately. We ran out of time at Nancy’s so we’re going to her house.

Yeah, my mom’s gonna give us a ride.

Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”

“Jesus Christ.” She hung up the phone, and then unplugged it. “I’ll save my folks some grief.”

Carol finished packing her bag as the sun set, and the girls finished their walk, two streets over to Trestle road, where Jo lived. “Hey dad, I’m home, and I brought Carol with me.”

Jo’s dad sat in their small living room, half-asleep as the television lulled in the background. “Hey girls, what are we up to tonight.”

“I have an art project that I need Carol’s help with if that’s okay. She’s gonna spend the night.”

“Fine by me, just make sure you two are up for school in the morning.”

“Thanks dad, love you.”

“There’s pizza in the fridge by the way, and anything else you want, just help yourselves.” Carole smiled at Jo’s dad’s kindness. “By the way, Billy called. He seemed worried, you might wanna call him back.”

Jo rolled her eyes.

Jo and Carol went down the steps, into the basement, which had been fortified as a bedroom for Jo. Quite frankly, it was the best hangout spot any of their friends had. It had a bed, 2 couches, a small television and radio, an attached bathroom, and a pool table, making it the ideal place for drinking, smoking, and sleeping, and now, secretive “art” projects.

Carol unrolled the two posters, laying the scribbled one next to the blank one. Jo picked up the phone connected to the wall, dialing Billy’s number and hoping that whatever god was listening, made him not pick up. Lucky for her, he didn’t, so she proceeded to leave a quick message on his answering machine. “Hey baby, it’s me. Don’t be mad… But Carol and I walked from Nancy’s home after school… C is sleeping over, we’re still working on that project. I’m guessing you’re pretty pissed at me, and you’re probably out drinking or something like that. Be careful. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

“That was disgustingly cute.” Carol snickered from the floor.

“Yeah, and he won’t suspect a thing. Plus tomorrow we’ll fight about the fact that I walked home, so he won’t even care about the mysterious project anymore.”

Jo gathered her markers and watercolors and sat down next to Carol. “So honestly, you can turn the T.V on, you don’t have to sit and watch me try to perfect this.”

“It’s fine, I like to watch artists work.” She settled herself more comfortably onto the floor, holding a pillow in her lap.

“I am by no means, an “artist”, but I appreciate your enthusiasm. Go put a record on.” Jo hated to make Carol get up after she had gotten comfortable, but she couldn’t work in silence.

“I don’t know how you expect to work with this absolute masterpiece playing in the background, but to each their own…” Of all the records to pick, Carol had chosen Queen’s, “Jazz”.

“You’re totally right, why would you put this on?”

Carol threw herself onto the couch. “Because I don’t want to listen to anything depressing while we’re plotting a sex strike.”

“Right.” Jo nodded her head.

For quite awhile, Jo worked on the poster, while Carol watched over her, quietly humming to the music. Occasionally, they would burst out singing, and laugh, and then return to work.

After three hours, a short pizza break, and only one “maybe we should rethink this whole plan” dilemma, the sun had completely gone down outside, no light peered in from the singular tiny window across the room. The poster was complete. “That’s a keeper, for sure.” Carol admired the artwork laid out on the floor.

“I’m quite honestly shocked that I did it with such little preparation.” She turned around to look at her friend. “Do you think it’ll get the point across?”

“I mean everyone basically knows from word-of-mouth anyway, this is just a seal-the-deal type of thing. I think it should be fine.”

“Not too much information? I mean, it doesn’t say my house but nobody else lives on this street except for Mrs. Goldson.”

“Yeah, she’s deaf.”

“Exactly-“

“No, I think we’ll be fine. Stop worrying. This is gonna be awesome.” Carol climbed down from the couch, sitting face-to-face with her best friend. “We’re gonna get to watch them sweat. Can you imagine their faces when they realize what’s going on? It’ll be priceless.”

Jo raised her eyebrows. “This isn’t a little cruel?”

“The whole reason we’re doing this is because we need paid attention to! Who gives a shit what they want, it’s time for them to cater to us. We’re women, damn it! Without us, nobody would be here, so they’re gonna start being a little more grateful for our presence.” Carol grinned.

“In the end, we’re gonna win, regardless.”

TUESDAY

After Jo’s pep-talk, and a shot, for an extra boost of courage, the two girls went to bed. The next morning, Jo’s dad drove the two of them to school, the finished poster rolled as small as possible so as to not draw any suspicion. It was hard work, trying to avoid Billy and Tommy, and the rest of their friends on the basketball team, where they usually hung out in the parking lot in the morning. They had to crouch behind a group of freshmen girls to safely get inside the school.

“It should be safe in my locker.” Jo said, hushed. “He doesn’t know my combination- Thank god.” She shoved the poster inside, quickly closing the door and turning to face Carol.

“Ready to face the world?”

Down the hallway, Billy and Tommy came into view, the rest of their friends following behind like groupies.

“Act natural.” The two nodded to each other, making their way towards their boyfriends.

Neither of them suspected anything.

Throughout the day, they tried their best to carry on like normal. Nancy and Di briefly caught up with each of them at lunch, saying that Jonathan and Steve hadn’t expected anything. Speaking of lunch, it was the most difficult period, trying to not to perform excessive PDA on their boyfriends without them suspecting something was harder than they had originally thought. “Strike! You’re on strike!” They had to keep reminding themselves.

At the end of the day, they had to, once again sneak away from the boys. Steve was in the parking lot, waiting with Dustin for Di. Jonathan was with Nancy, standing between their cars. Will, Lucas, and Mike were inside Jonathan’s car. “Hey.” Jo said, walking up to them.

“We’re waiting for Max.” Nancy replied.

“She had to pick up her skateboard from the office.” Will spoke from inside the car.

Jo gave him a questioning look. “She was skating before homeroom and the secretary took it from her.” Lucas answered.

“What a bitch.” Jo rolled her eyes, seeing Max walk into view.

“Sorry, Ms. Leen took my board this morning-“ She grumbled, her board tucked under her arm.

“No worries.” Nancy said, turning to get into her car.

“What’d you tell Billy?” Jo asked, climbing into the passenger seat. They waved goodbye to the boys in the other car.

“Picking up extra hours at work.” Max replied, laying her board down on the floor. “You guys were taking me so you can work on your project.”

“Thank god.” Nancy sighed.

The girls drove to the library. The older girls followed Max inside, waiting for her to convince Marissa to let them use the copy machine. After quite a few minutes of coaxing, she allowed them thirty minutes, after that she’d have to charge them for ink.

Inside the copy room, Max set up the machine, making roughly sixty wallet-sized replicas of the poster Jo painted. Nancy and Jo began to cut them up as Max watched them run through the machine. “Do I want to know the story behind this scheme?”

Nancy and Jo looked at each other. “No.” They said in unison.

“It’s probably better if you didn’t.” Nancy said.

They somehow managed to copy, print, and cut up all the cards within their thirty minute time-slot. Thanking Marissa, they rushed back to Nancy’s car. Nancy took Jo home first, a rationing of cards enough for her and Carol in her grasp. “I’ll get some to Di tonight, they’ll probably come and pick up Will and Dustin.” Nancy said.

“Max, not a word to Billy, right?”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Start trying to find a date that works for everyone to go out for food, okay? See you guys tomorrow.”

Billy had been suspicious of Jo since Monday, when she left him alone with Tommy at lunch. Jo was always sneaky and strange but it wasn’t out of the ordinary. He admired her for her quirks. But this time it wasn’t just one of her quirks, it was more like she was deliberately being weird. It bugged the shit out of him.

Monday and Tuesday he had been fucking up in practice, getting his ass reamed out at home by his dad, and practically slept through the first half of his school schedule. He spent half the night awake, wondering why Jo hadn’t come over at all, and barely let him touch her.

By the time practice ended on Tuesday, he had already reached his breaking point. “Has Carol been acting weird at all this week?” He asked Tommy, as they gathered in the locker room to shower.

“Not really, she’s just been spending a lot of time at Jo’s, why?”

Billy shook his head. “Well Jo has. She hasn’t come over at all. Normally she’s over every damn night.”

“Chicks are weird, man. They go through phases.” Tommy shrugged.

Billy didn’t buy it. Tommy was no help, but he knew who could be, and he was ready to push some buttons.

Billy arrived at Jo’s house, and let himself in. Her dad wasn’t home, so she was alone. Quietly, he passed through the living room and into the kitchen, seeing her standing over the stove, the draw-fan on full-blast, blocking out any background sound. “Ya know, you really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked.”

“Jesus!” She jumped, turning around and clutching a wooden spoon to her chest.

“No, just me.” He smirked, stepping forward to grab her hips. But she twisted out of his grasp, turning back around to stir whatever was in the pot. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning forward. “What’re you making?”

“Trying to boil noodles for macaroni and cheese.” She mumbled, concentrated at the pot of still water on the stove. “Don’t think I have it hot enough.”

He looked up at the dials, reaching to turn the one for her burner all the way up. “Can’t cook noodles on a simmer.”

“I don’t love cooking. Can you tell?” She laughed as the flames grew underneath the pot. “Wanna do it for me?”

“If you insist…” He rolled his eyes jokingly. “Just as long as you get everything else ready. Think you can manage it?”

“I think I can.” Jo turned to grab a packet of powder off the counter. “It’s Kraft.”

Billy boiled the noodles, and drained them, and Jo mixed the cheese sauce together. The two ate their macaroni, and talked about their days at school. Eventually, they moved down to Jo’s room. They sat on the couch, enjoying the comfortable silence they provided each other. Until Billy had to ruin it.

“You been okay lately?” He whispered, running his hands through her hair.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Yes… Why?”

“Dunno… Just haven’t seen much of you this week. How’s that project of your’s going?”

He felt her tense up in his lap. “It’s fine. Almost done, gotta hand it in Friday afternoon.”

“Huh, really. How have the other’s been? Helpful?”

“Others? Oh, Nancy, C, and Diana? Yeah, very helpful, probably couldn’t do it without them.”

“When do I get to see this super top-secret, mysterious art project?” He smiled, trying not to make it seem like he suspected anything weird was going on.

“Well…” She sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll be getting it back, it might be going to the art show at the end of the semester.”

Nice cover. He thought.

Billy was currently content with sitting in the quiet and enjoying each other’s company. It was the most physical contact they had had all week. Eventually though, he let his mind wander, and soon his hands, and then Jo found herself in a predicament.

God, it felt nice, having him kiss her, and touch her, but damnit she was supposed to be on a strike. She couldn’t let it go any further.

Billy’s hands traveled under Jo’s shirt. She pulled away from his kiss. “Mm, I’m kinda tired.”

He still didn’t move his hands. “C’mon, this is the most I’ve seen of you all week. Let’s just have some fun.”

He leaned forward, catching her lips in his again. She sighed, once again pulling away. “No- No. I don’t want to, c’mon not tonight.” She wrapped her hands around his wrists, removing his fingers from under her shirt.

Billy groaned, flopping his head against the back of the couch dramatically.

Jo couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit guilty.

She climbed off of his lap. “I’d say you can spend the night, but I don’t trust you won’t somehow talk me into sleeping with you, so I think I’m gonna have to ask you to go home.”

Billy’s jaw dropped. She had never asked him to leave before.

“What has gotten into you lately-“

“Nothing, nothing. My dad’s gonna be home, and we have school tomorrow…”

“That’s never stopped us before.” He grumbled, standing up and fixing his shirt.

“Doesn’t matter, no means no.” She chewed at her lip. “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel like it.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Billy rolled his eyes, staring at his girlfriend. “Am I at least permitted a kiss before I go?”

Jo smiled softly, leaning up on her tip-toes to kiss him. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Billy was damn sure there was something suspicious going on now.

WEDNESDAY

Wednesday was tough. Carol had skipped school, just to avoid Tommy. Nancy had skipped for a college visit, and Di joined her. So it was just Jo alone all day, with Billy and Tommy, and their idiot friends.

Billy was sure he had become wise to what was going on. Putting the pieces together: Tommy saying Carol was acting weird, Jo not wanting to have sex last night, the secret “art” project. The two of them had created a sex-pact, and the art project had something to do with it. (He hadn’t worked out all of the pieces yet.)

Billy was a born-instigator, so naturally, he made it his mission, to break the pact. And he took out all the stops.

He made sure to wear extra of the cologne she loved on him, only buttoned his shirt up halfway, smiled more often, and was extra sweet to her in the morning.

In their fourth-period gym class, he gave Mr. Sweeney to brilliant idea of having the guys play shirts versus skins during their basketball drills. He, of course volunteered his group for skins, trying his hardest to drive Jo wild. He winked and smiled at her from across the gym, watching repeatedly as her cheeks flushed red in the middle of a conversation with someone.

At lunch he made sure to keep at least one of his hands on her thigh at all times, complimenting her any chance he got. And when he waited for her at his car after school, he made sure he was smoking a cigarette, because although she detested the habit, she thought it was hot.

He greeted her with a kiss and watched as she got into the passenger seat; He followed, in the driver’s seat. He reached across her lap, into the glovebox, grabbing a piece of gum. “Gum?” He asked, slowly breaking the piece in half and sticking it in his mouth.

She practically drooled. “I know what you’re doing. It isn’t going to work.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about princess.” He grinned, starting the car. “Just asking my gorgeous girlfriend if she wants a piece of gum.”

Jo breathed in deeply. “Shut up.” She said through clenched teeth.

Wednesday afternoon was when Steve began to get suspicious. Di hadn’t wanted to do anything but drive around and listen to music since Sunday night. She made no extra effort to be affectionate, physically or verbally, and Steve was beginning to panic. Had he done something wrong? Had he said something wrong? Did he spend too much time with Dustin? Did she not like the music he played? A million questions ran through his mind all day, leading up until the very moment he picked her up from school.

He had told Dustin that morning he was going to have to get a ride with Jonathan, because he desperately needed to talk to Di. Dustin asked no questions, he knew exactly what Steve was going through, he had had his fair share of lady-problems too. Communicating with his girlfriend Suzie in Washington was more often difficult than simple.

When Di got into the car, she greeted him with a kiss, which was not out of the ordinary. They went through their regular routine of asking how each other’s days were, and chit-chatting about the college visit and work at the video store. A few moments of silence passed, and Steve couldn’t control himself anymore. “Are we okay?”

Di turned to look at him suddenly. “What?”

“Are we okay? Am I doing everything okay?”

“Steve-“

“You haven’t really talked to me that much the past few days, and all you’ve wanted to do is drive around, not that I mind, I love spending time with you, but we haven’t just done nothing, or just hung out in awhile and I feel like it’s something I did, or something I said. If it is, please tell me, I’m so sorry, I won’t ever say it again. Whatever it is, I didn’t mean it, it was stupid of me-“

“Steve. Relax.” Di tightened her grip on his hand, where it was placed on her thigh.

“Oh- Sorry. It’s just-“

And then that’s when Di began to panic. “Please take me home.”

Steve slammed on his brakes in the middle of the street, his eyes going wide. He ripped his hand from her thigh, placing it on the gear shift. Di was never confrontational, she wasn’t aggressive. There was nothing wrong with between her and Steve, and she couldn’t come up with a logical excuse for why she wanted to just drive around, so she told him to take her home.

She was already mentally slapping herself.

“I-uh, okay.”

The rest of the drive to Di’s house, Steve said not one word. Neither did Di. He dropped her off, watching longingly as she silently got out of his car, and walked to her house.

Steve spent the entire drive home trying not to cry.

Billy dropped Jo off at her house, watching as she begrudgingly gave him a kiss. “Call me if you need anything… Or anyone.” He winked, watching as she clenched her jaw.

On her front porch she stood, shaking her head and flipping him off as he drove down the street, music blasting at max volume, pleased with the shit he had pulled.

He had definitely cracked the code.

THURSDAY

Jo spent Wednesday night sufficiently frustrated. She was mad at herself, for coming up with such a stupid idea. Who even strikes things anymore? She was mad at Nancy, Diana, and Carol for agreeing to her stupid idea. And most importantly, she was mad at Billy for figuring out what was going on, and making it his life’s mission to tease the shit out of her.

She expressed her frustrations to Carol over the phone after she had been dropped off. “How could we be so dumb?” “Since when did he get so clever?” “What the fuck is wrong with us?” Were just a few of the things she had said to Carol.

Carol was practically glued to her side all day Thursday. “They can’t possibly mess with both of us. We just have to distract each other.” She had said. She was only partially right.

Billy seemed to have let Tommy in on the girls’s little secret, and the two of them were the pair from hell. All day, any opportunity they got, they were doing something to get under their skin. Tiny little movements, whispering in their ears, stupid shit. And of course they got a reaction, because Carol and Jo were nothing if not predictable.

The pair went to Carol’s after school. She left her phone unplugged still.

After practice, Billy ditched Max, telling her to skate home, and drove himself to Steve Harrington’s house. He hated that he even knew where he lived, but he had been at a party there last summer, and he hated to admit it, but Harrington threw a wicked party.

He had barely gotten out of the car when he saw Steve step out his front door, a bouquet of roses in his hand. “I love you. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry? What the hell am I sorry for?”

“Hey, Harrington!” Billy called, casually walking towards him.

Steve looked up, eyes wide in shock. He flung the flowers behind him, quickly stuffing both of his hands into his pockets. “Hargrove, hey man, what’s up.”

“Those for your girlfriend?” Billy pointed to the discarded bunch of flowers on the ground.

“Oh, these?” Steve turned around, picking them up. “Yeah, they’re for Diana.”

“She been acting weird lately?” Billy chewed at his lower lip. “Because Joanna has, and I know they’re doing a project together, so I was wondering-“

Steve interrupted him. “Joanna is always weird.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “That’s besides the point. Has Diana been acting weird? Jo has been out-of-the-ordinary weird, and I’m wondering if it’s that project they’re doing.”

“Di hasn’t mentioned a project to me…” Steve fiddled with the wrapping on the bouquet.

Billy raised his eyebrows. “Hmm. That’s weird. Jo said she had a project in art. Wheeler, Carol, and your girlfriend have been helping her out with it since Monday. Funny she didn’t mention it. You’ll have to ask her about it… Thanks anyway.”

Billy turned on his heel, walking back towards his car. “Actually, she has been acting a little strange.” Billy grinned, turning back to face Steve. “Every night she just wants to drive around and that’s it, she won’t do anything except hold my hand.”

Billy nodded, motioning to the flowers in Steve’s hand. “You go give her those flowers, I’ll handle the rest.” Billy twirled his keys between his fingers. “I’m gonna figure out why the girls have been acting up, don’t you worry pretty boy.”

Meanwhile, Steve had taken it upon himself to drive over to Diana’s house. She clearly didn’t want to talk to him, so he decided to leave the flowers at her doorstep. He managed to find an sticky note in his glove box, and on it he wrote I love you, I’m sorry. Just as he rehearsed, even though he still didn’t know why he was supposed to be sorry. He rang the doorbell and sprinted back to his car.

On his way home, and throughout the rest of the night he couldn’t stop the thoughts swirling his head. Why was she mad at him? What did he do? What did he say? Did she get the flowers? If she got them, did she like them? Did she see the note? He didn’t sign his name, would she know they were from him?

Steve didn’t sleep much that night.

Upon arriving at home, Billy found the house completely uninhabited. Max’s backpack had been thrown haphazardly inside the front door, almost making him trip over it. He kicked at it, causing it to slump sideways. Normally, he wouldn’t have thought twice about picking it up and taking it to her room, and then yelling at her when she got home about it “Max don’t leave your fucking backpack right inside the door, I almost died!” But a small piece of white paper sticking out of the front pocket caught his eye first.

He bent down, pulling it out of the bag, and when he read it, he almost threw up. It was a tiny, wallet-sized piece of card-stock, Girls STRIKE was painted across the top of it in red ink, but that wasn’t the most disturbing part. “Leather + Lace optional”, was what really got him. What the hell was Max doing with a card that said that on it? Where did she get it? Why did she keep it?

Holding the card between his fingers, he rushed into the kitchen, quickly dialing Tommy’s number on the phone. “Dude, you have got to see this shit. I’ll meet you in ten.” He said, hanging up and going back outside to his car.

He did make it across town to Loch Nora in record time, laying on his horn for Tommy to come outside. He had just planned to sit in the car and show Tommy the card. “Look at what I found in Maxine’s backpack.” Billy sighed, tossing the card into Tommy’s lap.

“Shit, what’s your thirteen-year-old sister doing with this?” Tommy examined it.

“My thoughts exactly.” Billy replied. “But then I remembered that she went to the library with Joanna and Nancy Wheeler on Tuesday after school. And who’s been acting weird this week, but Jo and Carol, and they’ve been working on that stupid art project with Wheeler.”

“So… You think this is the art project?”

“Could be.” Billy lit a cigarette. “I went over to Harrington’s after school. He said his girlfriend has been acting weird too lately.”

“She’s included in that project the girls are doing.”

“Precisely, amigo.”

“So what are we supposed to do about this?” Tommy waved the card in his hand.

“Looks like we’ve got a party to go to.”

Also, over on Isola Road, Nancy was secretly sleeping over at Jonathan’s. Joyce never actually had an issue with Nancy staying over, she trusted both of them, but understood how it might be awkward to asl your mom if your girlfriend can stay over, so she let them continue with their “secret” sleepovers. Nancy was hesitant to say yes Jonathan’s fifth-period offer, “Wanna stay the night?” He asked. Then she figured, maybe she should stay over, and make it a point to mention their issue. After all, her problem was very much different from the other girls’s.

But alas, they never got the chance. When she arrived, they got right to work on studying for an English exam, and then they decided to watch a movie. (A television was the latest and greatest edition to Jonathan’s bedroom) And by the time the movie was over, they were basically half-asleep, so what would be the point in mentioning sex now? Whether it was happening, or not.

They laid in bed, side-by-side, barely touching each other. “Jonathan?” Nancy said, the darkness of the room making her voice seem a lot louder than it actually was.

“Yeah Nance?”

“You know you can touch me, right? Like we can cuddle or whatever, you aren’t gonna break me.”

From beside her, Jonathan chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay…” Nancy turned on her side, facing away from him. She was about to fall asleep, feeling completely and utterly defeated, when she felt Jonathan’s arm wrap around her middle. She smiled, feeling slightly accomplished.

Nancy had a good night’s sleep that night.

FRIDAY

Friday was a relatively easy day. Tommy and Billy had decided to keep their distance from their girlfriends, not wanting to draw any extra attention to themselves, or make them wise to the fact that they knew everything that they were scheming.

After Billy had talked to Tommy, he had driven over to Steve’s, tossing the card at him just like he did Tommy. “Told ya I’d figure it out.” Steve was shell-shocked, eyes wide and nodding at everything Billy was saying. He grasped most of the information. “This is why your girl’s been acting weird… Party at Joanna’s on Friday… Better call Byers to let him know…”

Steve did call Jonathan, who had absolutely no clue anything was going on, he had had a big project at the Post throughout the week that had taken most of his focus away from school.

So the plan was set, Billy was going to pick everyone up, and they were crashing the fucking party.

Jo had told her dad to go away for the weekend. “It’s just a little party dad, a couple girls. No boys, I pinky-swear. Please…” She didn’t have to beg much, her dad would probably do anything she asked, almost short of murder if she said please.

Nancy and Di had made sure to have secure alibis with their parents, and bags already packed. Nancy drove them all to Jo’s house, where they finished setting up what Jo had done earlier.

She had cleaned the house the night before, trying to take her frustrations out by tidying up. Carol’s brother dropped off copious amounts of alcohol, and a gram of weed just for an extra treat (He had a soft-spot for Jo). Red lights were strung up around the entire house; the living room, kitchen, all over the basement. The entire kitchen table was covered in drinks, and Carol was on music-duty so it would be nonstop bangers all night.

Nothing could go wrong.

They all got dressed, none of them wore leather or lace, it was more of a joke, but they did wear black and/or red. “We look hot!” Di squealed.

Girls began to arrive as early as seven thirty, to which they were gladly welcomed. Within an hour, the party was in full-swing, music blasting, alcohol flowing; someone had brought glitter and it was everywhere, but nobody cared, because there was not a man in sight.

That was, until, Jo heard the roar of a scarily familiar car engine from outside the house.

She stopped, dead in her tracks, almost spitting out her drink. From across the room, her and Nancy locked eyes. Shit. No, no, it couldn’t be, the boys didn’t know about the party.

Jo walked through the crowd of girls to the front window, staring in shock as Billy stepped out of the Camaro. “Holy shit.” She mumbled.

She set her drink down on the windowsill, rushing to step onto the front porch. Nancy, noticing her panicked stare from across the room, grabbed Di and Carol and they followed her onto the porch. “What the hell are you doing here?” Jo said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she greeted her boyfriend.

“You’re found out sweetheart. We’ve come to crash the party.”

“But- How? How did you find out?”

Billy pulled the wallet-sized card out of his pocket. “Max kept a copy for herself after your little library rendezvous.”

“Well shit.” Jo face-palmed.

“Just give up, give in. You’ve lost.” The four girls stood, shocked at the presence of their boyfriends, who stood smugly in front of them. “C’mon, it was a good effort, but we figured you out. Throw in the towel.”

Not thinking her friends would give up so easily, Jo shook her head. But to her surprise, her friends had actually thrown in the towel. Billy walked forward, pulling her to him by her waist. She couldn’t put up a fight, she had been so strong all week, but she was finally ready to give in. “How I’ve missed you, princess.” Jo pouted as he peppered her face with kisses. “We’ve got some lost time to make up for, come on.”

Jo was a too drunk to form coherent thoughts, let alone form a coherent argument to figure out how or why or when Billy had figured out their plan. When she took Max and her friends out for food this week, she would have to investigate how Max managed to steal a copy of the poster.

From over Billy’s shoulder, she watched as the other girls desperately fell into the arms of their boyfriends. Shit, they had lost. They had lasted the entire week, but the hadn’t been able to keep it a secret.

Defeated, she let Billy drag her to the depths of her bedroom, locking the door, and finally surrendering to him.

MONDAY

On Monday, the girls met outside, next to Nancy’s car.

Nancy was glowing, the winter sun illuminating her face, her cheeks a bright rosy tint. Carol was grinning from ear to ear, clearly exponentially happy. Diana was staring blissfully into the distance. Jo was happy, albeit angry with how her plan failed, she had an extremely euphoric weekend.

“So, ladies, how was your weekend?”

[seblos]

there's not a star in heaven that we can't reach - ch 8/10

chapter title: this is the tech rehearsal, and i'm your choreographer

word count: 5,035

[one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine (coming soon)]

read on ao3

“Carlos? Are you awake, mijo?”

Carlos very much wasn’t awake. What high school student genuinely is fully awake on a Monday morning, especially the day after break. If his mom is calling for him though, that could only mean one thing.

He’s late.

“Yes, mamá, I’m up!” he calls back, frantically rolling out of bed. Thankfully, he chooses his outfit the night before so he knows exactly what he’s grabbing in the morning. He zips his backpack, grabs his phone, and does a quick brush through of his hair without looking in the mirror. He probably doesn’t look the best, but half the school most likely won’t even show up, and it’s tech rehearsal today which means no matter how hard he tries he’s gonna be a mess anyway.

“Someone is waiting for you downstairs,” his mom calls up to him again, and he stops in his path. That’s unusual…he usually takes the bus alone in the morning. Who could possibly be waiting for him?

For the first time all morning, Carlos glances at his phone. It’s only 7:00 am; his alarm hasn’t even gone off yet. Which, he imagines, can only mean one person is at the door.

Memories of the weekend flood through his mind as he walks down the stairs, suddenly a lot more awake than he was a moment ago despite being woken up before his alarm. Just as he expected, Seb- his boyfriend, is standing in their living room in front of the door, wearing a knit rainbow winter hat with tassels and a fluffy suede jacket on top of red flannel. It’s the most Seb he’s ever looked, and Carlos practically melts.

“Hi,” Seb breathes, smiling. He goes to hug Carlos before glancing at his mom in the other room. “Does she know?” he asks, voice dropping so she won’t hear.

Carlos shakes his head but squeezes his boyfriend’s hand quickly before his mom can see. “Why are you here?” he asks, though, obviously, he’s not complaining.

“Georgie had to go in early for some club meeting. Usually, I just go with her and stay in the library until school starts, but then I thought I might as well come here and, uh, surprise you,” he says, still smiling at Carlos. “If, uh, that’s okay.”

Carlos squeezes his hand again. “Please. As long as you’re okay with taking the bus.”

He calls goodbye to his mom, reminding her that he’ll be home late because of tech rehearsal before they’re out the door.

The moment the two are out of sight from his house, Carlos takes Seb’s hand before he can second guess himself. His boyfriend (!!! he is never going to get used to that) just smiles again. One of these days, Carlos will tell his mom and then he can do whatever with Seb in the comfort of his own home, but for now, he’ll take their not-so-secret hand-holding.

“This is kind of exciting for me,” Seb admits, laughing softly as they approach his deserted bus stop. “I’ve never taken the bus before!”

“Well, it loses its shine after about the second ride, but I’m excited that you're excited,” Carlos smiles back at him.

A few more people arrive before the bus pulls up. His stop is the last one before the school, so by the time they enter, most of the seats have already been filled. Luckily, there's an empty seat right in the front behind the driver, which Carlos gratefully takes, Seb in tow. Nobody takes a second glance at their conjoined hands.

“So,” Carlos says as the bus begins to trundle down the road towards the school. “How was the rest of your break?” He basically already knows, considering they text just about every day, but it’s still nice to hear Seb talk.

“It was alright, catching up on homework for Mazzara’s class,” (they both rolled their eyes) “and just hanging out with my family. Josie and Cohyn are home from college, which made the house extra chaotic, but it was worth it.”

Carlos smiles at the mention of the older Matthew-Smith siblings. He still has yet to meet any of them besides Georgie and the occasional glance of one of the younger siblings the few times he’s been to Seb’s house. He’s sure it’s only a matter of time before he gets introduced to the rest of them.

The mention of his older siblings reminds Carlos of the night on Ashlyn’s porch, and how Seb has said that Georgie called their relationship months back.

“Did you, um,” he laughs. “Did you talk to Georgie?”

Seb’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah! She freaked, of course, but, like, in the best way.”

Carlos laughs again. “Should I be afraid?”

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re her favorite, actually,” he laughs as well, and part of Carlos is soaring knowing that.

“Gotcha, so you should be the one who’s afraid.”

Seb shrugs. “I mean, can’t blame her. You’re pretty incredible.”

Carlos can feel his face flushing. He’s hoping he can just blame it on the cold weather before realizing that Seb is blushing as well like he’s looking for the okay that he just said that. So, Carlos gives it to him.

“I don’t know. I think you’re the incredible one.”

Seb ducks his head, not knowing what to say next, but his face still bright red. He opts to just squeeze Carlos’s hand.

Most of the ride passes in silence, Carlos still half waking up and Seb just looking out the window, occasionally glancing over at him or their hands like he’s getting to remind himself that he’s dating Carlos.

It doesn’t feel any different being in a relationship. They’re still them, still the choreographer and the rehearsal pianist, the two boys who danced at Homecoming together. Seb is still one of his closest friends; he supposes dating him doesn’t change any of that except now he gets to brag that his best friend is also his boyfriend. He supposes that’s why they are dating.

Seb is one of the only people to break down the walls Carlos has built up, and while his heart is racing at the thought of it all, for once in his life he isn’t scared.

They have to let go of each other’s hands by the time they get to the school, gathering their backpacks and filing out the cramped space of the bus alley, but as soon as they’re walking into the school, Seb grabs his hand again.

“This okay?” he asks quietly, and Carlos doesn’t know how he’s supposed to make it through the day without holding Seb’s hand.

“You don’t have to ask.”

They walk down the hall together, which is a little nerve-wracking considering they’ve only ever held hands at school when it was after hours, but nobody gives them a second glance. Anyone who stares for a moment just moves on, either not caring or not surprised.

“Do you need to go to your locker?” Carlos asks him. Theirs are relatively near each other, much thanks to alphabetical last name sorting.

“Uh, yeah, I wanted to put my Chemistry textbook before-” he’s cut off as Lou and Addie rush past them, headed towards the auditorium with Ashlyn hot on their heels.

Carlos reaches out and grabs her arm before she can get too far. “Hey, Ash, where are you guys headed?”

Her face drops. “You haven’t heard yet?”

“No…?” he says slowly, glancing at Seb who just shrugs.

“You guys are gonna wanna come see this.”

He and Seb glance at each other again, before following Ashlyn down the hallway.

A million scenarios are running through Carlos’s head as he approaches the auditorium, none of which are positive after hearing Ash’s tone. Was someone hurt? Was the stage okay? The set? The lights? The costumes? Will they still be able to do the show?

What he saw when they reached the back doors so much worse than he could have ever expected.

Water is dripping from the ceiling, falling on burned and crumbled set pieces and costumes. Anything that survived was covered in plastic and almost definitely waterlogged, including the stage. Carlos feels his heart sink the moment he realized even if they cleared the damaged set pieces, the stage was too far gone to perform on.

His fear is confirmed as one of the firefighters informs Miss Jenn that the show, in fact, cannot go on with the stage in this condition.

“The fire ripped through half your costumes and the sprinklers ruined a bunch of your sets,” she tells Miss Jenn. “I’m going to have to red tag the entire backstage area for a month at least.”

There are gasps and sad shuffles behind Carlos as everyone groups up, seeking comfort within the tragedy. Next to him, Seb presses into Carlos, immediately lacing their hands as he blinks back tears.

Behind them, Kourtney lets out a choked “Did she say costumes?” and god, Carlos’s heart hurts.

“Okay, listen up,” Miss Jenn turns to them, and even though Carlos can’t imagine what she possibly can say during this moment, every head turns to listen. “Hug your neighbor, take a moment, and let’s all reconvene in the cafeteria after school to talk about our options. Ricky and Nini, spread the word.”

Nini nods. “Got it.”

“Ricky?”

“Sorry. After school in the cafeteria, got it,” he nods as well.

It’s sort of a concluding moment as everyone realizes they unfortunately still do have to go to class in a few minutes, and the cast and crew slowly begin to trickle out of the theater. Carlos lets go of Seb for a moment to murmur goodbye to Ashlyn, promising to talk to her in History. When he turns back around, Seb is lingering, staring at the stage but his mind is obviously elsewhere.

“Is it dumb,” he says sadly when Carlos approaches again, “that I’m glad the ladder survived?”

His head drops down to Carlos’s shoulder, and Carlos’s body just rakes with despair. His biggest project in shreds, the person he cared about most close to tears… he wonders if, with all the good leading up to this moment, this kind of disaster was bound to happen.

Life never wants to be easy.

—

Carlos doesn’t see Seb again until lunch with him during their fifth period. By that point, the two of them lightened up a bit after getting lost in the waves of Sophomore year schoolwork still circling around them, unrelenting despite theatrical tragedy. Still, the knowledge of their burned theater sat heavily on everyone’s shoulders, and their lunch table was quieter than normal.

“This school seriously needs to work on their vegetarian options,” Seb murmurs, stirring his soup. “I can die happy the day society realizes that not all of us are in love with tofu.”

Carlos lets out a breathy laugh and Natalie leans over to pat him on the shoulder sympathetically. Their cafeteria’s interesting taste in alternate food choices is a conversation they have at least twice a week ever since Carlos joined the table.

He could tell Seb was doing his best to hide it and instead try and cheer everyone else up. He had noticed, at some point, that the other boy always put others in front of his own emotions, making sure they were okay before he was. It was endearing to see how badly he cared, but Carlos knew what hurt looked like on the other boy, knew that he had to be there for him even if he didn’t have the words to make everything okay.

“There’s more to vegetarianism than soup and salads,” Seo thoughtfully reminds them. It’s something Carlos has heard many times before but can never get tired of his boyfriend’s voice.

He results in simply leaning into Seb’s side, ignoring Natalie’s eye-roll towards the two of them, and savors the moment in his day when everything isn’t totally terrible.

—

Carlos does a lot of hugging today. He thinks the entire cast does, to be honest. There isn’t a moment where they see each other and don’t seek comfort, mourning all of the hard work and the potential loss of their show. It’s probably overdramatic to all of the non-theatre kids, but Carlos is too tired to care at this point.

He finds himself hugging Nini and Seb in a sort of prayer-style formation in the cafeteria after school as they wait for Miss Jenn. Even while he and Nini never were quite the best of friends (especially after the “forest of boys” incident) it was nice that they were still able to find some sort of solace in each other.

They break apart from each other, Nini squeezing his shoulder, just as Miss Jenn walks in.

“Okay, guys,” she claps, then pauses. “Wait, where’s Gina?”

Hesitant glances are spared at each other around the room as everyone settles on top and around the cafeteria tables, recalling the phone call they overheard at Ashlyn’s Thanksgiving party.

Ashlyn herself was the one to speak up after a moment. “I think she’s going through a family thing right now.”

Luckily, Miss Jenn brushes it off. “Ok, prayers to our Gina. I’m... really not sure what to say. You've all worked so hard. I’ve seen all of you grow so much,” she pauses, and Carlos feels himself holding his breath as if she’s about to spout a miracle.

Unfortunately, it’s never that easy. “But if we don’t have a theater, we don’t have a show.”

Immediately, a chorus of “what?” and disgruntled murmurs pass around the room as everyone contemplates what that means for the fate of the show. Carlos feels himself turn, letting his hand drop onto Seb’s thigh reassuringly as he looks between EJ and his boyfriend’s concerned expressions.

Carlos turns again, this time to face the drama teacher. “Miss Jenn, we’ve gotta do something,” he pleads.

“I think we… I don’t know. I guess we could consider other venues?” Concerned chatter turns curious as everyone begins to try and brainstorm ideas for where they could possibly move their show on such short timing and essentially no budget.

“Oh, what about the old Kingston downtown?” Ashlyn offers.

Miss Jenn winces. “It’s condemned.”

“The Lucky Ducky Puppet Pavillion?”

“It’s a massive Starbucks now.”

Inspiration hits Carlos like one last glowing star. “How about the El Rey?”

Pride swells in his chest as people point at him excitedly, quickly agreeing to the one possible theater they could actually pull off moving their show to. (Granted, nothing has been performed there in years, but a theater is a theater, right? )

Unfortunately, Miss Jenn is not as thrilled. “Any other ideas?” Carlos pauses from where he’s looking over Seb’s arm at his Google search of the theater, brow furrowing at her tone. “Miss Jenn, I feel like you just had a really weird reaction to what I just said.”

Typically, being blunt with their director is the only way he can get any comprehensible feedback from her.

“Sorry, what did you say?” she replies, eyes wide and uncharacteristically emotionless.

“Carlos was asking if we could try and use the El Rey theater,” Nini supplies for her.

“My Uncle Reuben is the listing agent, and the last thing they had there was a fashion show like, four years ago,” Carlos continues, before walking behind Miss Jenn as he excitedly dials a familiar number.

“Woah, this place has 500 seats!” He hears Seb exclaim, followed by Miss Jenn talking. Carlos isn’t able to concentrate on what she’s saying before the other line picks up, and his uncle greets him.

“Tío Rubén, ¿podemos usar el teatro para nuestro espectáculo?” Carlos asks, mustering up the best Spanish he can.

The response thankfully is a very excited “¡si, si, si!”

“Sounded like a ‘yes’ to me!” Ashlyn raises excitedly, mirroring Carlos’s arms out wide. Everyone around them cheers, and even Miss Jenn seems to brush aside whatever her deal is, accepting defeat.

“The El Rey theater it is!” she announces.

Carlos grins. “Miss Jenn, aren’t you excited?”

“Yes… I am that feeling,” she says quickly, then spins back around to face the rest of the cast and crew. “Wildcats, let's grab all the props and costumes that didn’t get damaged, and let’s loadout!”

It’s obvious she isn’t as excited as everyone else, but Carlos brushes it off in favor of celebrating their not-cancelled show. They’ll deal with Miss Jenn’s problem with the El Rey when they inevitably come to it.

Nini and Kourtney gather all the other juniors and seniors who have their driver's license, making plans with Carlos for transport straight to the other theater. They come up with a plan, car arrangements and all, and head into action.

Before Carlos can get too caught up with the crowd, he finds himself quickly pulled into yet another hug from Seb.

“My boyfriend is a genius,” he says once they pull apart, quiet enough that only the two of them hear. (Not that they’re specifically trying to hide it from anyone at this point, but it’s nice to have moments just shared between the two of them.)

Carlos immediately blushes at the words, not at all used to Seb referring to him as his boyfriend. He ducks his head, biting back the flushed grin threatening to cross his face. “I’m not really. There are only so many theaters in Salt Lake City. It’s just kind of luck, honestly, that my uncle is the listing agent.”

“Still, you scored us an actual theater with, like, lights and sound and an actual stage and audience chairs,” Seb reminds him. “I was fully prepared to suggest my barn, but I was really hoping we wouldn’t get that far.”

Carlos laughs. “The cows could have been part of the audience.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m sure they would totally no t be disruptive or anything,” Seb rolls his eyes, sarcasm heavy in his voice even with the smile adorned on his lips. His eyes drop again, though, as he steps a little closer to Carlos.

“Seriously, though. This has been the best three months of my life, so… Thank you for bringing back the show. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without it, besides lose all my confidence.”

Carlos smiles gently, heart just filled with so much happiness and love compared to before.

“The show won’t end no matter what, I swear. We could probably do it in the gym, everything considered,” he laughs lightly, trying to reassure the other boy. “Besides. The show doesn’t give you confidence. That’s all you, honey.”

(The pet name kind of slips out just like it did at the Thanksgiving party, and Carlos panics for a moment before remembering he’s allowed to do that now. Not to mention Seb’s reaction is just as cute.)

“Yeah,” he nods, then pulls Carlos into one more quick hug before tugging him towards the bomb shelter. “Come on, we have a tech rehearsal to attend.”

—

The transition from East High to the El Rey was surprisingly seamless. In fact, everything about their tech rehearsal was smooth sailing for the most part, minus the absent stage manager and the old tech. It was still a theater, though, and everything leading up so far after the news of the fire, leaving Carlos at least a little bit hopeful for the fate of the show even with the change in location.

Which is why he should have expected it when things got weird.

Carlos was not unfamiliar with subbing in for roles. Typically, if Ricky or Nini was absent for a rehearsal, Gina and EJ would step in like the dutiful understudies they were, leaving an ensemble member or himself to read for their missing roles depending on who was there. More than a few times Carlos ended up reading Ryan’s line outside of private rehearsals with Seb, same with some of the other background boys, even Chad once or twice.

Needless to say, although he wasn’t necessarily the most specialized in acting or singing like some of the members of the cast were, it didn’t mean he couldn’t. It just so happened that out of the three things that make someone a triple threat, he preferred dancing the most out of them.

So when Miss Jenn calls him up to read for Gabriella, he’s unbothered. It wasn’t like he was afraid to act in front of the cast and crew. It wasn’t even acting, anyway. It was just a staged reading for blocking lighting.

At least, that’s what he had assumed.

Carlos knows, realistically, after the incident with EJ in the hallway and Miss Jenn’s director's file that the older boy would have been curious about its contents. Part of him was just hoping that EJ had enough dignity and confidence left to not actually look through the box.

Once EJ started talking, Carlos knew that wasn’t the case.

“Look… I never thought about singing, that’s for sure. Until you,” EJ responds to the cue he gives, more emotional than any high school performance ever needed to be. He never had a problem with overreacting; Carlos immediately knows what EJ had done.

“And now, I don’t want to stop. Ever.”

The more he continued, the lower Carlos’s eyebrows went down his forehead, until he’s tilting his head towards Miss Jenn inquisitively just to make sure he’s not the only one noticing something off.

Miss Jenn mirrors his expression. “That’s excellent… and a little weird,” she tells them, before giving Big Red lighting directions as Carlos turns back towards EJ.

“What is happening right now?” he gestures vaguely into the space between them.

“I’m just emoting, Carlos. Feel free to join me.”

Okay, yeah. He definitely read the file.

“This is the tech rehearsal, and I’m your choreographer,” Carlos reminds him, hoping to give EJ a reality check. Unfortunately, he seems unaffected as Miss Jenn asks them to run the scene again.

Apparently, EJ takes Miss Jenn’s reaction to “emote” even more, to the point where he thinks EJ might actually be crying.

“I never thought about singing, that’s for sure. Until you,” he leans closer, and Carlos leans farther. “And now, I don’t want to stop. Ever.”

The moment EJ reaches out to him, cupping Carlos’s cheek, his fight or flight kicks in. It feels like he’s staring into Carlos’s soul, fake tears rimming in his eyes. (If he wasn’t so incredibly confused, he would have maybe joked about it feeling like a hate crime.) Even as leans back so far it feels like his neck has disappeared into his collar, EJ doesn’t let up. When Miss Jenn finally calls EJ’s name, it feels like he’s going to be the one to cry now.

Their director gestures for him to come over.

“Are you sick?”

The pieces finally fully click in Carlos’s head. “Wait, I know what’s going on here-”

Before he can finish his sentence, a ladder falls over scarily close to him, and everyone flinches as they did earlier with the sandbag at the beginning of rehearsal, and Carlos realizes that maybe everything isn’t going as well as he originally hoped.

—

Carlos doesn’t talk to EJ later, not until Miss Jenn has a full breakdown after the mic check with Kourtney. Ashlyn is sent to talk to her while the rest of them chill out in the hallway.

He finds EJ on the floor with a box of popcorn in his hand that has to be incredibly stale and decides he may as well confront him.

“You looked in the audition files, didn’t you?” he approaches EJ, not even giving the bo a chance to finish the handful of popcorn.

All he gets in response is a muttered “Oh boy.”

Carlos sighs at his confirmed suspicion. “I tried to warn you, those were for Miss Jenn’s eyes only.”

“Not a problem,” EJ stands up. “Because apparently, I don’t have emotions.”

“Sometimes you do have a way of performing that doesn’t exactly feel authentic,” Carlos says as gently as possible the moment he hears EJ’s voice break a little bit. Feeling like you have too many emotions is one thing he’s dealt with more than a couple times; he can’t imagine what it must feel like to be that way and have everyone assume you don’t care at all because you don’t express them the way others do.

EJ wasn’t having it though. “Then what was I just doing on stage?”

“That felt more like an allergic reaction.”

“And what’s authentic to you, Carlos? A forest full of human beings?”

The words cut like ice, worming their way under his skin and confirming his biggest fear that y es, his castmates still think about that and they all think he’s stupid, that his ideas are stupid, even this whole El Rey idea was probably stupid too.

Carlos chooses to ignore the voices in his head. “That concept may need a little bit of time.”

“And so do I.”

The popcorn box is being pushed into his chest as EJ walks off, leaving Carlos wondering how everything could have possibly gone so wrong.

He debates looking for Seb, but he was caught up in conversation with Kourtney. Ashlyn was MIA, and Big Red had come around once to ask for his pizza preference but promptly left as soon as he got it, leaving Carlos on his own with the definitely stale popcorn that he was shoveling into his mouth just to do something with his hands.

Which is why it surprises him when EJ comes back a little bit later.

“Hey, um, it’s been a long time, should we go ask what’s going on?” EJ says slowly, like Carlos is the last person he wants to ask but the first person with all the answers about Miss Jenn.

Unfortunately, it seems more and more these days Carlos never has answers about Miss Jenn.

“She’s having a moment,” he says, unwilling to leave his spot from the floor. “Maybe you can go and ask her.”

“I don’t want to freak her out more with my lifeless eyes.”

Carlos snorts but doesn’t speak.

EJ takes it as his cue to leave. “Anyway, it’s…” he trails off, shaking his head as he goes to walk off, but Carlos jumps up quickly.

“You were right, by the way,” the words tumble out faster than he can stop them, letting out all the frustration and guilt he had been contemplating over the last half hour. “Forest of boys was a mess and coming here was a huge mistake. I have no business taking charge of anything.”

To his surprise, EJ steps closer. “No, you stepped up, dude. You always do. If I’m being honest, it’s…”

“Stupid?” Carlos supplies.

“Admirable.”

It’s not what Carlos is expecting to come from him, and the shock from it makes him stutter for a moment, tilting his back like he’s waiting for EJ to take it back.

“EJ, was… that a compliment?”

“Don’t make me start emoting,” he shakes his head, wincing like he can’t believe himself, but the words stay put.

Carlos just laughs. “Okay. Well, the words were a four but the sentiment was a solid ten.”

EJ laughs, followed by an awkward pause. “I’m gonna walk away now.”

He does, and Carlos stands there for a second trying to process what the heck just happened. His chest is just as tight as it was before, but the tension has left his shoulders a bit and everything feels a little bit less painful.

Just as he sits down once more, another person comes bounding over and drops right next to him. Carlos almost wishes they didn’t, until he realizes who it was

“Tough day?”

“The toughest,” Carlos sighs, and it makes Seb smile a bit as he drops his head down onto Carlos’s shoulder.

“What was EJ talking to you about?”

“Show stuff,” Carlos nearly shrugs, before remembering the weight of the other boy’s head on his shoulder. He gestures vaguely with his opposite hand instead. “Found some stuff out about his audition from Miss Jenn’s show file-”

“-Which is why he was acting weird, gotcha,” Seb finishes for him.

Carlos laughs quietly. “You jealous?”

Seb doesn't answer at first, instead picking up Carlos’s hand where it’s left at his side and traces patterns along his fingertips. Carlos takes it as a cue to keep teasing him.

“I mean, you have to admit, he is attractive,” he nudges. It gets Seb’s attention enough to lift his head off of Carlos’s shoulder, glaring at him with daggers made of cotton candy.

Carlos holds his hands up in defense. “Joking, joking!” he promises, laughing again. “I’m interested in someone else right now.”

Seb hums, laying back down on Carlos’s shoulder. “Who’s that?”

He doesn’t answer, just lacing their fingers together again. “What were you talking to Kourtney about before?”

“Show stuff,” Seb echoes from before, and Carlos rolls his eyes. “I just asked her if she was planning to quit makeup crew and join the show.”

“What’d she say.”

“That she’s not planning on quitting costumes and makeup anytime soon, but she’d be interested in branching out, essentially.”

Carlos hesitates. “Are you jealous of her?”

“Who, Kourtney?”

Carlos nods.

Seb sighs, unlacing their fingers so he can trace Carlos’s hand again. (He’s found it to be calming for Seb, either when he’s tired or nervous. Or both.)

“I’m not jealous. Maybe a little scared, just because I’m sure we have similar dream roles, but it just means competition I wouldn’t mind losing to. I would love to see her perform, you know?” he squeezes Carlos’s hand gently. “Same with you.”

“What about me?” he asks.

“Doing the show. You’re obviously a good dancer, and a good singer, and a good actor. You could easily play a lead,” Seb informs him.

Carlos chews on his lip. “Dunno. I’ve thought about it, but I’m not sure being on stage is my thing.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” Seb grins, leaning his head up so he can see Carlos. “I could be your Gabriella.”

“Oh, baby,” Carlos laughs, letting their conjoined hands fall onto his thigh. “I think you already are.”

—

[timetoresurface]

pick up the pace (1) / park seongwha

PART ONE // PART TWO

Summary: You weren’t the type to go to college parties, but somehow you ended up at the most notorious frat of your campus. They threw the wildest parties, and were known to be the hottest fuckboys. Somehow you ended up with a crappy vampire who took an interest in you.

Genre: fluffy college au Pairing: Reader x Seonghwa Word count: 10k ( I honestly never know when to stop, and I have another 10k ready, my god )

A/N: I know nobody has asked for this fic, but why would I let that stop me? It’s a very slow fluffy college au thingy which is in contrast with the title, because I really don’t know how to pick up the pace. (one of my favourite songs of drowners, if you’re interested)

act one: “you don’t need to be stressed!” okay but consider this: i am

You picked up your hair into your usual, lazy, bun with half your hair out. You grabbed a cup of ramen noodles and poured some water into it, placing it in the microwave. You just had morning classes that followed with your afternoon job at the coffee shop. You quickly changed into your sweats, not caring about your appearance. You began to eat your noodles when your roommate Sana walked in. 

“Hey. How were your classes?” She asked you without any interest in her voice. She simply asked out of politeness. You guys were more roommates than friends, but it worked for both of you. She was more outgoing and didn’t really take school too seriously. You, on the other hand, were way too invested in your academics. 

“It sucked.” You told her with a mouthful of hot noodles. Why did you always buy the spicy ones? You weren’t really a fan of spicy things, but you were an idiot.

“How come?” She asked you while taking off her shoes. She hummed softly to a melody you didn’t know. She was always making up melody’s wherever she went. You did like that about her. It fits with her carefree personality. 

“Someone else is top of the class. Someone dethroned me, and I don’t even know who he is.” You explained to her, frustrated. You had been the best in your class ever since you started that class. That’s six months ago, why did Someone have to take your gold? Sound like a selfish guy. 

“What’s his name?”

“The teacher didn’t want to give me his name because it would spark my unhealthy competitive side.” You told her while rolling your eyes. Your competitiveness was your most charming side, or at least that’s what you thought. 

“How do you know it is a he?” She asked you.

“Mistake on her part, which she deeply regrets. There are more females in our class, and I can eliminate them all. How hard can it be to find that guy?” There was no way you were letting that guy win. It was your spot, and no one else deserved it, but you. You had worked your ass off to get an almost perfect score. And apparently almost perfect was still not enough to be the best. 

“I will start my mission next Monday.” You told her determined. Usually, people would get scared when you flashed them your crazy eyes, but Sana had gotten used to this side of you. 

“How was work?” She asked you again while rummaging through the fridge for some food. Both of you weren’t really cooks, so food had to be ordered in most of the time. You did have fruit in your fridge. You are kind of trying to be healthy, but most importantly, ready for summer.

“Terrible.” You sighed dramatically while falling on your shared sofa. You were one of the better actresses of your town. You did play the lead in one of your school plays, and it was the one with the best reviews. Not that you’re bragging or anything. 

“Everything okay?” She asked you with concern laced through her words. Sometimes you were more like a therapist and patient than roommates. She was 90% of the time taking on the therapist role, and she did it incredibly good as a psychology major. Sometimes you thought she used you secretly as a subject for her class, but you never really asked her if it was true or not. You rather not know.

“Yeah.” You mumbled softly, disappearing in your favourite blanket. You searched for the tv-remote, but Sana quickly took it before you could even locate the thing. 

“You sound like you need a night out.” She stated firmly while crossing her arms. She did this every month, trying to get you outside. You usually followed her, but you never really had any fun at her party’s. They were just too loud, and to be honest, drunk people scared the living shit out of you. One second they’re fresh and talking to you, and the next second they vomit all over the place. Drunk college boys were honestly the worst. You could deal with the girls, they were nice when they were drunk. 

“I need a night to catch up on some school work.” You reasoned with her, but she eyed you suspiciously. Why were you getting comfortable on the couch when you were planning to catch up on some homework? She always sees through your lazy ass. 

“It’s Friday?” She asked you loudly while simultaneously pulling the blanket from your body. You glared at her, but you didn’t protest. There is no way you can fight her in this state. She’s a strong-willed person, and you were far too weak today. She knew when to fight her battles. 

“Yes, it is. I respect you for knowing what day it is.” You deadpanned. Maybe she would leave you alone if you were a little bit more annoying than usual. It had never really worked.

“You’re young. You should be going out on a Friday night.” She said while throwing her arms in the air in disbelief. Or that was what she intended to do, you think. She wasn’t as great of an actor as you were. It really showed from time to time. You need to believe in your dramatics. The first rule of acting club. 

“Why?” You asked.

“Because you’re young?” She stated uncertain, her confident front wavering. 

“You already said that.” You had no intention to let her win easily. She would win you over eventually, but where is the fun in agreeing immediately? For all you knew, she could finally back down and let you live your fat ass in your favourite spot. 

“Because you deserve some fun.” She finally said after gathering her thoughts. And you actually agreed with her, that’s why you were ready to binge-watch something on Netflix. That’s something fun you deserved.

“I don’t really think parties are fun.” You told her honestly, but she did already know that information. Once she had forced you to go to a party where you ended up being kissed against your permission, and Someone had thrown up. It was the same guy. It most definitely wasn’t the best night of your life.

“It’s a small gathering.” She told you with pleading eyes. She knew you were not immune to her puppy eyes, and she liked to use is from time to time. She barely used it, so you knew tonight meant something important to her. Sometimes you’d like to be more friends than roommates. 

“I know when you’re lying. We’ve been roommates for far too long.” You told her while getting out of your spot to throw away your leftover food.

“No honestly, it’s going to be small. Last week was wild enough.” She explained while following you into the kitchen. 

“Define small?” You asked her with arms crossed.

“Just my friend group with a few extras like you.” She told you with a big smile. She noticed you weren’t really putting up a fight anymore, meaning you’d probably agree to whatever she had planned.

“That actually sounds nice. You know I don’t like big parties where I can’t dance freely.” You nodded your head, pretending to be rooted in thought when you had already agreed internally. 

“They will provide an extra dancing space just for you.” She told you happily, taking your arms to start dancing. You let her.

“Interesting.” You told her while moving a little to an imaginary beat as there was no music playing. You did like to dance at small gatherings. 

“You need to dress up.” She finally said after both of you danced freely for a couple of minutes. Sana is not really a dancer, but she was pretty so she didn’t really need to be able to dance.

“As what?” You asked her. She did get your attention with her final sentence. party’s where you had to dress up were the best in your opinion. No one knew you, and no one would bother you. You could just drink and dance in your reserved dancing spot.

“Something Halloween related.” She shrugged her shoulders, not really caring that it was a Halloween themed party in spring.

“Halloween? It’s may? Isn’t that a bit too late?” You asked her in disbelief. 

“Or too early. It depends on what your view on life is.” she shrugged again, and you couldn’t believe why she was so indifferent. 

“Why Halloween? I don’t really have anything scary hanging in my closet.” You pouted softly. It would have been nice if she had given you a heads up.

“I’m just going as a cat. You don’t have to put too much effort into your costume.” She tried to comfort you, but she had to know you better by now. You liked to plan ahead, and you wanted to plan your costumes. You were a simple kind of girl. 

“But that’s the fun part.” You dramatically stated, slapping your hand against your head as a special effect. 

“You’ll find something. Be ready in half an hour.” She ignored your dramatics. 

“But I still have to shower.” You yelled at her while she was walking toward her room to get ready.

“Better make use of these minutes you’re wasting by standing in the kitchen.” She laughed before slamming the door.

“You’re cruel.” You whispered while walking past her room to get your things.

“That I am.” She yelled, and both of you laughed. She did have a good hearing. She could’ve been a music major, but unfortunately for her did she have controlling parents who hated everything that was related to art. 

act two: i have feelings for u. not telling u which ones.

“I’ve got to say you do work better with a time limit.” Your roommate said when she saw your costume. It was nothing too extravagant, but it was all you could do in such a short period. “But I’ve got to ask you, why are you doing your make-up when your face will be covered?” She asked you while tilting her head, trying to figure you out. 

“If it gets too hot underneath my blanket, I still want to look presentable.” You told her matter of factly. Your costume was just a white blanket you had found in your closet. You had cut out a face, and voila. You’re a ghost. 

“Smart.” She said while putting on her shoes. Sana looked incredibly good, and her outfit told you it was going to be more party-minded than small gathering. It didn’t really matter anymore as you were almost ready to go. Sana had on a black dress that showed of everything she got to offer without it being slutty. She didn’t have a tail, but she did put on cat ears and painted her face to match the look. 

“You look good.” You complimented her when you finished your make-up. She blushed slightly, and you thought it was cute. She really wanted to look good for Someone, and you were going to figure out who it was. Sana doesn’t do dating or pining for a guy. This must be a first.

“You look incredible yourself.” She said when you were examining yourself in the mirror. You did look good. You also wore a simple black dress, but not as tight fitted as Sana’s. Yours was more the casual kind with a little twist. When you put on your blanket, it did look like you weren’t really wearing anything underneath, but it didn’t bother you. Sana had on high heels, but you weren’t that kind of girl. You did like heels, but you were a messy drunk, and you didn’t want to break your legs. You opted for simple white sneakers that matched your ghostly outfit. 

“We do look good.” You said out loud while exiting your apartment. Sana laughed softly while she was sipping from a cheap bottle of wine.

“Can I also have some?” You asked her uncertain. She didn’t really like to share her drinks. Not that you minded as you usually don’t try to drink too much when going out.

“You’re drinking tonight?” She asked you worried. 

“Yes, otherwise I’ll start thinking.” You explained to her, and she handed you the bottle. You took the bottle in both your hands and downed half the bottle in one go.

“I’m not carrying you home tonight.”

“I also don’t want you to carry me. I still have the bruise from last month when you decided to bridal style me.” You giggled already feeling the alcohol in your system.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” She told you while putting her arm over your shoulders. “You’re going to be the cutest ghost at the party.”

“You’re going to be the cutest cat at the party.”

“I was going for sexy, but I’ll take it.”

The party was located just a little bit further away from your apartment. It was a frat house where all Sana’s friends were in. It was a shame it was only for boys; otherwise, Sana had already moved out of your shared apartment. When you arrived at the party, you were surprised that there was a line outside. It might have been one of the weirdest things you had ever seen. The sun was softly setting while a line of dressed-up cats and vampires were waiting outside a white picket fence house. 

“Sana! You made it.” San screamed, storming out of the house while wearing a tiger suit. Not very Halloween related, but he did look good in the onesie. Who were you kidding? He did look good in everything and anything. It’s unfair, really.

“Of course. Did you ever doubt me?” Sana smiled at San before hugging him.

“No, but I doubted Y/N.” San spoke, hugging you. You did like the fact he recognized you through your ridiculous blanket. You were flattered. 

“It has been five weeks, so I thought it was a good time to show my face again.” You joked, letting him go before it got too awkward for a friendly hug. 

“Have you been drinking?” He asked you while eying the two of you suspiciously. You looked Sana in the eyes before confirming his suspicion. 

“I’ll make you your favourite drink,” San told you while putting his arm over your shoulder, letting you inside. You felt the stares of some people on your back. Why was the hottest frat guy letting a ghost inside when there was a huge line waiting outside? A line filled with sexy cats.

“So, what’s going on?” San asked you while handing you a drink he had just mixed. It was a simple vodka orange, but you really liked the drink. You loved it when San made one for you. You loved it that he remembered what you wanted. 

“Nothing much.” You told him honestly. You wanted to shrug your shoulders but didn’t want to seem too pathetic. You did enjoy your life, maybe not to the fullest, but you did do fun stuff.

“Life is more than just existing, you know?” He told you. His eyes were scanning the crowd, and you felt him leaving you. This always happened when you went to these parties. He would be sweet and all over you at first, but when he noticed some fresh meat in his house, he would bolt. Not that anything was going on between the two of you, but you would like for something to be going on. 

“You sound like Sana.” You laughed, trying to get his attention back. Maybe you should’ve dressed up as a sexy vampire too. Perhaps he wouldn’t be scanning the crowd but examining your body.

“Maybe you should listen to her.” He told you after taking a long sip of whatever he was drinking. He liked his liquor strong, so it was probably something that should be mixed with a soft drink. 

“What’s up in your life?” You asked him softly. You hated how insecure you sounded when San was near. 

“We’ve been busy organizing this party, and I’ve been studying.” He told you, finally making eye contact. 

“You? Studying?” You asked him with a shocked expression, hiding the blush that was showing in your cheeks.

“Don’t be so surprised. I do study from time to time. I don’t want to be here forever.” He explained after taking another long sip from his cup. Something was going on with him tonight. He’s usually not drinking as much as he was doing now. He did plan this party, and when you organize something you probably shouldn’t be getting drunk.

“That’s not what you said three parties ago.” You joked.

“People change.” He commented, and boy did you hope he could change and recognize your potential. His eyes were fixed on other people again, a  very very sexy vampire to be more correct.

“They can change their habits, but you can not change your core.” You told him, trying to hide your disappointment. Maybe you should give up on San, and try to find a guy yourself in this place. But how could you when San looked so adorable in his tiger suit.

“That’s depressing.” He said monotonously. His head had already left your conversation, but his body was still present. 

“I’m a ghost. I’ve seen things, you know.” You tried to lighten the mood, but San wasn’t having it.

“I’m going to look around. See if people are not breaking our stuff.”

“Catch you later.” You told him while he was already out of earshot. He made a straight line to above mentioned sexy vampire, and you had to look away. It wasn’t always like this, you know. There was a time where you and San were kind of best friends. He would study with you in the library. Well, you studied while he was playing games. There was a time where you both went out for dinner and roamed the streets looking for something to do. And suddenly it all changed. He started to ignore you, but he always had an excuse, though. It’s around the same time where he began to fuck his way around campus, making him the number one single guy that girls wanted to tame. But you can’t really tame a tiger. You can change some of its habits, and you can learn it some tricks, but it will never lose its instinct. 

You quickly drowned your drink before making your way to the dance floor. There weren’t a lot of people dancing, but that’s how you like your dance floors. You love them to be empty, so you had space to move. You liked the fact that if you simply enjoyed yourself, other people also wanted to dance to get to your level of happiness. You started to make your way to the dance floor when Sana stopped you.

“Y/N! There you are.” She yelled, already looking a bit too tipsy. 

“Here I am.” You stated dryly because you really wanted to dance. You weren’t in the mood for talking.

“Please dance with me. The guy I like is here, and I want to show him what he’s missing.” She was slightly slurring, but it did make her look cute. It’s like everything in the world. If it was a bad look on anyone else, Sana made it work for her. She had this gift.

“You like someone?” You asked her with shock written all over your face. Sana doesn’t do dating. She does guys.

“Now is not the time for an explanation. Be my wing woman, please.” She begged you while dragging you to the open space. You followed her and started to dance. You threw your hands in the air and started to shake your whole body to the beat. You almost forgot Sana was dancing right beside you, but she was way too obvious. Her eyes were constantly scanning the crowd while she forgot to move to the rhythm. 

“Don’t be so obvious. Dance with me.” You whispered into her ear. You took hold of her hands and spun her around. She quickly forgot her worries and started to have fun with you. It only lasted for a couple of minutes before a guy made his way over to her. He had also brought a friend, but he didn’t really want to be here. You were actually quite sure he didn’t want to be here in this room. His friend was dancing, but he remained still. He did look good, but it was the kind of good-looking where he knew he was handsome. 

Sana and the fun guy started to dance together, leaving you alone with the statue. You tried not to care too much, but he was bringing down your vibe. But you couldn’t just go, you had promised to be Sana’s wing woman, and once you take an oath, you stick it out to the end. Or that’s what Rihanna says, and you always listen to Rihanna. 

“I’m Seonghwa.” The statue suddenly introduced himself to you. 

“Okay.” You told him trying to get into the rhythm of the music. 

“What’s your name.” He asked you, still not moving to the beat. 

“Casper, the friendly ghost.” The only reason you stayed in his orbit was so Sana could have some alone time with her man. 

“That’s a long name, and strangely related to your outfit.” He told you, but he didn’t seem amused. He didn’t really look like the type to smile. He looked more the brooding kind of person. Sitting in a dark room while plotting to kill his worst enemy. 

“You’re not even wearing an outfit.” You told him, eying him from his face to his feet, trying to understand the situation. He did have a beautiful body. He was dressed in all black, and you did like your guys to be covered in skinny jeans and leather jackets. 

“I have teeth to match the black outfit.” He told you. He must think the only remarkable feature of a vampire was the teeth. 

“I still don’t know what you’re supposed to be.” You played dumb. 

“A vampire.” He told you, rolling his eyes in the process. 

“Okay.” You told him trying to get into the rhythm of the music, again. It’s like he sucked all the fun out of the room with just his presence. There weren’t a lot of people who could do that, but he was the star.

“I’m getting a drink, would you like one?” He asked you after a couple minutes of silence. You quickly nodded your head, but he didn’t seem satisfied.

“What would you like?” He asked you annoyed. Since when do people ask what the other wants to drink. Just get them something. We’re all just trying to get drunk here.

“Anything is fine.” You told him, turning your back to him so you could finally start enjoying the music. You looked for Sana, but she was nowhere to be seen. Good for her, you thought. You did feel a little left out as all the girls were wearing something pretty, and you were covered in a blanket. Maybe you should stop caring what other people think, and finally enjoy yourself. You really did hate parties. They always made you feel like you weren’t part of anything. 

Finally, you were dancing. You were shaking your body while laughing, and it felt like you were all alone in the room. But the right kind of alone, where you’re satisfied with purely existing. That existing did get you worked up, and the blanket was soon too much for you to handle. You quickly threw the white sheet of your head and wrapped it around your waist. It felt like you could finally breathe. You wanted it to be like the smell of the air after rain, but it smelled like sweat and alcohol. Still, it was better than suffocating under your costume. 

Suddenly you felt some hands snaking around your waist, but you didn’t need to look up to know who it was. When San had a bit too much to drink, he would always come dancing with you. His hands would always find their way to your body, and you didn’t mind at all.

“You look really pretty tonight,” San whispered into your ear, leaving goosebumps all over your body. You turned around and were met with his hungry eyes. He’s never really showed you this side of him, but you were intrigued. 

“I’m sorry. Here’s your drink.” Seonghwa interrupted the moment. If you didn’t hate him already, you certainly did now. Why did he have to ruin such a perfect moment? San’s eyes quickly lit up when they landed on Seonghwa, and you couldn’t understand why? 

“Hi, Seonghwa,” San said happily. You didn’t know they actually knew each other, but apparently, they did. San knows everybody, and everybody knows San. That’s the golden rule of this place.

“Thanks.” You said before taking the drink that was offered to you. It was vodka mixed with something, and you were actually impressed he didn’t bring you beer or wine. 

“If you don’t like it the kitchen is over there,” Seonghwa told you while pointing towards the designated drink station. San laughed beside you, but you simply glared at him.

“I know. I’ve been here before.” You told him firmly. Who the hell was he?

“You have?” Seonghwa asked, not even trying to hide his shocked expression.

“It has been a while since you were here.” San entered the conversation, but you didn’t listen to him. Seonghwa has gotten under your skin, and you weren’t the type to back down. 

“Surprised?” You turned your body to Seonghwa while asking him.

“I would’ve recognized you if you were regular.” He simply stated, taking a sip from his red cup. There was a sparkle in his eyes and boy, did you hate that mischievous sparkle.

“Is that a compliment?” You asked him, eying him suspiciously. What was he trying to get out of this situation? He seemed to be rooted in thought, and it didn’t make him look smart if he had to think this long for such a simple question.

“You can take it as a compliment.” He finally said after a few seconds of silence. San was silently examining the two of you, but you were too busy to examine his expression. You simply scoffed at Seonghwa’s answer and made your way to the kitchen. His eyes followed you as you had hoped. You remained eye contact when you drained the whole drink in the sink. A small smile appeared on his face, and it did make him look 100% more attractive, but you tried to ignore it. 

“Why are you pouring out a perfectly good drink?” Someone asked you, and you recognized it to be one of Sana’s friends. You think his name was Yunho, but you weren’t sure.

“It wasn’t my taste.” You simply told him while pouring yourself a new drink. 

“Always a troublemaker.” He grinned. You silently took a sip of your drink while Yunho was eying you. Both of you stood there for a couple of minutes before Seonghwa made his way over to the kitchen.

“You should’ve told me you what you wanted.” He whispered into your ear, sending shivers over your body. You didn’t like the fact that he was having an effect on you. 

“Seonghwa. I didn’t think you would still be here. You usually bolt when the house is full.” Yunho exclaimed in surprise when Seonghwa was done annoying you. 

“I feel like staying a little longer tonight,” Seonghwa said with his eyes locked on you. 

“You guys want to dance?” Yunho asked both of you while softly moving out of the kitchen. You quickly nodded your head before following him. Yunho was a great dancer, and like you, didn’t really mind acting a bit weird on the dance floor. You felt Someone’s hands on your waist the moment you started dancing, but you didn’t care, thinking it was San again. After a couple of minutes, you noticed San kissing Someone else on the other side of the room, and you quickly turned around. In the end, sexy vampires always won.

“You.” You stated with venom in your voice. Seonghwa just shrugged, and kept his hands on your body, guiding you through the rhythm. He was actually a good dancer, and you were impressed. Why couldn’t he dance like this when you first met?

“I don’t mind making him jealous,” Seonghwa whispered into your ear, still moving your body with his hands. You couldn’t move on your own. Seeing San kiss somebody else always hurt. It wasn’t the first time you had seen it, but it still left a nasty taste in your mouth. 

“What?” You asked Seonghwa.

“Use me to make San jealous. Isn’t that the guy you like?” He told you with his hand cupping your face. 

“How?” You asked him, moving his hand off your face. It felt way too intimate with the way he looked at you. You barely knew the guy.

“You’re not very subtle.” He laughed softly, turning you around in his arms. Your back was now pressed against him while he kept moving your body to the beat. 

“What?” You asked him, moving your head to look up at him.

“You’re eyes light up when he’s near.” He explained in your ear, leaving you breathless for a moment.

“You’ve known me for five minutes, and you think you can read me?” You asked him, shocked. Who was he to understand your feelings? Even Sana didn’t know about your little unhealthy crush on the fine young man she called her friend.

“If you don’t want to use me, that’s fine.” Seonghwa said while removing his hands from your body. You immediately missed the warmth and turned around to face him again.

“No.” You said quickly, putting his hands on your waist again. This time you placed your hands around his neck and moved your body close enough for him to feel every curve. 

“That’s more like it.” His low voice was very close to your ear, surprising you. You looked at him, but he was already looking at you. His eyes softened a little bit, but you felt his hands scanning your body. Surprisingly, you didn’t mind Seonghwa touching you. It was oddly comforting and oddly familiar. 

“San is fucking weird for not wanting you. If a girl like you looked at me like that, I would do everything in my power to make her happy.” He said after dancing to a couple of songs. To be honest, you didn’t care what music they were playing. You were so lost in the presence of Seonghwa, you didn’t mind moving wrongly to the beat. 

“Is this a confession, Seonghwa?” You asked him softly while your hands were locked in his dark black hair. The moment you touched his hair, you didn’t want to let go. It was so soft, and this combined with his smell, made you lose a sense of what to do in situations like this. 

“Don’t flatter yourself too much.” He whispered into your ear, breaking eye contact. His lips softly brushed against your skin, leaving you shuddering in want. “But I think this is working.” He said while is hands started to explore your body again. He was close to your ass but seemed to hold himself back. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He might seem a bit straightforward, but he didn’t want to make you feel awkward. He didn’t want to use you, and you felt grateful. 

“Thank you.” You whispered into his ear, and you felt him tensing up beneath you. He quickly tore his body of you, leaving you confused. 

“I’ll see you around.” He told you before leaving you alone on the dance floor, confused. Why did he go so suddenly? You were actually having fun with him. Did he really spend time with you just to make San jealous? Wasn’t he enjoying himself while dancing with you?

act three: *pats my own shoulder* it’s gonna be okay dumb bitch

“You’re home late.” You said when Sana entered your shared apartment the next morning. You couldn’t sleep due to alcohol and a boy named Seonghwa, so you were up early. “Or early. It kind of depends on your perspective.” You laughed when you saw her shocked expression. Her make-up was gone, and she had her shoes in hand. She looked like the definition of a walk of shame.

“Before you judge me. I didn’t do anything sexual. We actually talked all night and fell asleep. Wooyoung is a real gentleman.” She stated, trying to defend herself. Which she has never really done before. Usually, she would tell you about the guy’s penis and if he could work with it or not. 

“You still kissed him as your lipstick is smudged.” You laughed. She went to sit next to you on the couch while holding your hand. She had a lovesick look on her face, and it looked adorable on her. Any other girl would seem a bit pathetic, but as always Sana made it work.

“It wasn’t a sexual kiss. It was a passionate yet soft kiss.” She explained while hearts were flying out of her eyes. She was in love, and she couldn’t hide it any longer.

“You’re living the romantic comedy life. I’ve never seen you so soft.”

“Don’t get used to it.” She stated before walking to the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts again. Your thoughts consisted of San kissing Someone else passionately, and Seonghwa leaving you alone on the dance floor when things were finally starting. He said it had worked to make San jealous, but you hadn’t seen San afterwards. He probably went to fuck that sexy vampire, so Seonghwa’s little game hadn’t worked in your opinion.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Sana asked coming out of the bathroom, freshly washed in her pink pyjamas. 

“Nothing.” You told her trying to hide the blush that crept over your face.

“Is it maybe the guy from last night?” She tried again, and you couldn’t hide your blush anymore.

“Do you know him?” You asked her uncertain. You never really talked about guys with Sana. She told you her stories, but you never really did. 

“Seonghwa? Everyone knows him.” She told you, turning on the tv. 

“That doesn’t sound good.” You told her trying to get more comfortable under your blanket. Sana put on something random about blind dating on Netflix, but you weren’t really paying attention.

“He’s a nice guy. He’s in the frat, but not really party-minded.” She told you, and you simply hummed in acknowledgement. That’s something you had already figured out. 

“I’m sorry if he bothered you,” Sana told you apologetically, but you quickly shook your head.

“It’s fine. It did give you some alone time with Wooyoung.” You told her finally looking at her, and you noticed her already looking at you. She was studying your face, but you put on your best poker face. 

“And I’m really thankful.” She told you before returning her attention to the large television. 

“He’s actually quite a playboy. Don’t worry too much about the things he might have said.” She started the conversation again you so desperately wanted to drop.

“He seemed like an asshole.” You told her earnestly. 

“Really?” She asked you, but you simply nodded your head again. She didn’t seem to know what to say after your remark. 

“I don’t want to go to work.” You told Sana after watching two episodes of the dating program. It had drained all the energy out of your body, and both of you hated the program, but couldn’t stop watching. That’s the problem with reality TV, but also the beauty of it. You could forget everything for a moment while you watched a TV show that reduced the cells in your brain.

“Don’t go.”

“I need the money to afford this apartment.” You whined before getting up from the comfortable couch. “Don’t you dare watch the other episodes without me.” You told her on your way to the bathroom to freshen up.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She laughed while continuing to watch the episode you told her not to watch without you. You didn’t really mind, though. You would’ve watched without her too if she was the one leaving. 

“What can I get you?” You asked the customer before you. He seemed to be in deep thought, but you were used to it. The place you worked had the weirdest coffee names in history, and people always took five minutes before deciding witch poison they would like. 

“I’d like a venomous teaser.” The customer told you uncertain, and you knew he wouldn’t be coming here again. Some people loved the weird names, and others would just like to order an americano without having to call it something else.  

“Coming right up.” You told him in your fake customer voice. He did seem to relax a bit more by your kindness. 

“Venomous teaser.” You called out, and the guy quickly took the drink you offered him and bolted straight through the door. You were left alone in the shop as there were no other employees or customers. 

At first, you hated being alone in a shop that wasn’t yours, but you grew to like it. You could choose the music. You could sing and dance to your heart’s delight. It was actually quite freeing. This could only happen on Saturday morning shifts as this was the moment no one really came in for a cup of coffee. Most students on campus were sleeping or recovering from last night. Professors weren’t seen during the weekends, probably spending their free time with their families. 

“Wow, you dance way better than you can sing.” Someone said out loud before entering the shop. You turned around, looking straight into the eyes of the main character of your thoughts.

“Hi San! What are you doing here?” You smiled. You always smiled when you saw San. He always looked good, and he always made you feel really good. Have you ever met someone who radiates warmth like the sun on a spring day? Well, to you, San was like a ray of sunshine, warming you up to your core.

“I wanted to surprise you.” He told you excitedly. 

“What can I get you?” You asked him when he didn’t elaborate more. You also didn’t know what to say. San hasn’t visited you for over two months. Why did he so suddenly enter the coffeeshop now?

“Whatever you think is worthy for my tiny hangover.” He smiled while leaning on the counter. He was dressed in comfortable clothing, but to you, he still looked like he just came from the catwalk. He once received an offer to model for some unknown company, but he refused. He was shyer back then. If Someone asked him today, he would probably accept. 

“Coming right up.” You told him while staring his drink. An iced coffee would be best for his upset stomach. Something that wasn’t too strong. He kept looking at you while you were making his drink, and you started to get uncomfortable. 

“So, you and Seonghwa?” San suddenly asked you, and you couldn’t hide the shock on your face. Had he seen you dancing with Seonghwa? Had he seen that your hands were curled into his hair while dancing rather seductively. 

“What about Seonghwa?” You asked him shyly. You couldn’t look him into the eyes. He could always see right through you after years of knowing each other.

“You seemed to like his presence.” He told you softly, and you couldn’t figure out what his issue was. Could he be jealous? Probably not. He’s not the type to get jealous, and you should’ve figured that out yesterday when Seonghwa suggested making San jealous.

“Not really. He’s kind of rude.” You told him honestly. Yes, you thought he was hot. That didn’t mean you thought highly of him. Your body and brain were two separate identities. 

“I’ve known Seonghwa for a while now. He usually doesn’t talk to someone he doesn’t know for that long.” San explained his thought process.

“Oh, we were both the chosen wingmen for our friends. Sana and Wooyoung are courting each other.” You told San while finishing up his drink.

“Oh.” Was the only thing he said.

“Here’s your drink.” You gave him his iced coffee, but he didn’t seem to care about the drink.

“So, you don’t like him?” He asked you again, making you frustrated. Why did he suddenly care about your life? 

“Why is this information so important to you?” You asked him with your annoyance barely hidden.

“Because you never like anyone.” He told you after taking a sip from the coffee. 

“How do you know? You only see me at parties. You don’t know what I do and don’t do outside of these events.” You readily blamed him. The first weeks were hard when he decided to ditch you for one night stands, but after a while, you got used to it thanks to Sana. But you still felt a bit mad toward him, even though he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Everyone had the right to decide who could play an active part in their life, and San had decided you weren’t good enough anymore. That’s life, but you would’ve liked an explanation. 

“Is there anyone you like?” He asked you softly, trying to read your reaction. Luckily for you, you had mastered the art of the poker face.

“Again, why is this so important to you?” You asked him harshly. He dropped his shoulders before answering your question. He looked like a beaten dog, but you didn’t feel guilty. 

“Can I not care about my best friend?” He told you softly, trying to maintain the eye contact you decided to avoid. 

“We haven’t been best friends for months now.” You told him, turning your body to clean something imaginary. You heard him scoff before he left you alone. Maybe Seonghwa’s tactic had worked and did you actually make San jealous with your behaviour of last night.

act four: men are attractive only if they are completely and absolutely unattainable

Fuck. You were going to be late to class. You didn’t want the professor to think you were late due to not being the top of your class anymore. On the contrary, you wanted to show your dedication to the subject. You wanted to show her that you were way better than the other person that had dethroned you. 

“Hold the door.” You yelled through the hallway. The student who wanted to close the door looked startled by your loud voice. He didn’t close the door, so you were incredibly thankful.

“Thank you so so so much.” You told him while entering the classroom. The class hadn’t started yet, but everyone seemed to be present. You hated being one of the last ones to enter as your usual spot would be taken. You didn’t like sitting in the back as you couldn’t see the screen very well, but you also hated being in front because you thought everyone was looking at you. You decided to take a seat at the front as not too many people were there. You didn’t want to be distracted by other people who didn’t take this class seriously. They would just scroll through tinder or Instagram without taking notes, and you didn’t really want to be associated with any of that. 

“Look who we have here?” Someone spoke up when you had just finished taking out your iPad for note-taking. You turned around and were surprised to see Seonghwa. He wore the same kind of clothing like the last time you had seen him. Black and comfortable. He didn’t wear the vampire teeth today though.

“Seonghwa?” You asked, shocked. You had never seen the man in this class before. Well, you couldn’t really tell who was in your class, but you would’ve recognized Seonghwa. Or so you thought.

“Don’t be so surprised.” He said while taking the seat next to you. You felt everyone’s eyes on the two of you, but you tried to ignore it.

“What are you doing?” You asked him. A guy like him wasn’t the type of person to just sit casually next to you. 

“I’m taking this seat.” He stated before taking out his laptop. He probably just used it for playing games instead of taking notes. You hoped he would at least be quietly playing.

“Why?” You asked him again. Some girls changed their seats to sit closer to Seonghwa, and your point was proven. Someone like Seonghwa doesn’t just sit next to someone like you. Suddenly the front rows were filled with more people. 

“If you don’t want to sit next to me, just say so.” He told you not trying to hide his annoyance with you. Some people greeted him, but he seemed to ignore every one of his fangirls. Which they didn’t really take well. 

“It’s fine.” You ended the conversation. The teacher had just entered, and you hated to miss a moment of class because of a rowdy neighbour. 

“But please, keep your entourage quiet.” You ended the conversation.

“They’re not my friends.” He told you loudly, making some people turn their heads in surprise. 

“Do they know?” You asked him softly, not trying to make more people notice the two of you talking.

“Some people just want attention, and my attention you have to earn.” He quickly explained while simultaneously taking notes.

“I didn’t do anything to earn your attention.” You remarked, which resulted in him giving you a small smile. Your competitiveness ass liked the fact he had given you a smile and a response and didn’t even glance at the other girls trying to get recognition. 

“True. So be quiet. I’m trying to pay attention.” He told you, and you simply scoffed. You had asked him to be quiet first, but you couldn’t help but smile. 

It was challenging to listen to the teachers’ words when Seonghwa’s hands were distracting you. He kept typing on his laptop, and you quickly learned he was actually writing everything down what the teacher had said. He even added some remarks of himself. You were surprised to learn that Seonghwa was actually a good student. He lived in a frat house that threw the wildest parties on campus. He was apparently known as a semi fuck boy. And he wasn’t really nice at all. So yes, you were surprised he actually went to class, let alone take excellent notes you would want to copy.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked you after you stared at his hands for the tenth time under an hour. His hands were a perfect representation of his handsomeness. He’s slim, muscular with an almost perfectly symmetrical face. Everyone seemed to love him, they seem to be drawn to him. You noticed it with your friend San at the party. You see it here in the auditorium, where everyone seems to hang on his every word, and reciprocating his smile. If he wanted he could have more friends than days in a year, but somehow he sat next to you. Somehow he had kept by your side at the party, not wanting to interact with anyone else.

“No.” You quickly recovered your thoughts, taking a look at your almost blank note app. You sighed and returned your attention to the teacher. Seonghwa stopped typing for a while, giving you some space to get into the zone of note-taking. You felt his eyes on you, but you barely noticed his intense stare. 

Class was quickly over after you had found your rhythm again. You had ignored Seonghwa for the remainder and kept on taking notes like your life depended on it. It actually did, you really needed to be top of your class as this was the only lesson you could excel in. You needed to have an almost perfect average to get to your favourite internship. 

“Have you talked to San?” Seonghwa asked you when you were putting all your stuff in your bag. You looked up at him in surprise. He was all packed and ready to go but waited for you to follow him. 

“I’ve seen him.” You told him, speeding up your packing process. 

“And?” He asked you again, waiting for a more juicy story, but there wasn’t really one.

“I don’t really know him anymore.” You confessed to him. Apparently, Seonghwa was the only one you could talk about this stuff. You didn’t want to burden Sana with your crush on one of her friends. You also didn’t know many people outside of the frat house, which made talking about San a bit awkward.

“Well, I do, and I can say he was most definitely jealous. He has asked me hundredth of questions about you. He has never been interested in the girls I’ve danced with.” Seonghwa explained to you, but you were more interested in his girls.

“Do you dance with other girls? I thought you only took them upstairs?” You asked him while winking at him. He looked amused by your behaviour, and he suddenly changed into a more relaxed person.

“I was polite. He’s never been interested in the girls I hook up with.” He laughed while remaining eye contact. You had left the auditorium, walking toward the exit of the building. You didn’t have any other classes today, but your shift would start in an hour. You didn’t know if Seonghwa still had classes, but you didn’t ask. Not wanting the moment to end. It was nice to talk to someone.

“Because we didn’t hook up.” You told him, pointing at the two of you while simultaneously shaking your head.

“I don’t think San knows that.” Seonghwa told you, holding open the door for you. You thanked him softly before making your way outside. He could be nice if he wanted to apparently. 

“He was too busy shoving his tongue in another girl’s throat.” You said, stopping in front of the building you just exited. 

“I think if we continue what we started last Friday, we can make him realize he actually likes you too.” Seonghwa told you, shoving his hands in his pockets. How his big hands could fit into the tiny pockets of his skinny jeans was beyond you. 

“Why would you do that? What’s in it for you?” You asked him suspiciously. You mimicked his behaviour by hiding your hands in your hoodie.

“Maybe I could get rid of my fuck boy image.” He told you honestly, and you couldn’t hold in your laughter. Did he realize how ridiculous he sounded? A fuck boy could never get rid of his title. 

“But you are a fuck boy.” You told him a matter of factly, and you thought you saw hurt crossing over his eyes, but he quickly covered it up.

“I’m actually not a fuck boy, thank you very much.” He told you defensively. 

“What are you?” You asked him genuinely interested in his answer. Somehow you wanted to know more about the boy named Seonghwa. He’s just a walking contradiction, and not in a profound way. He just seemed to be someone who still hadn’t figured himself out. And that’s okay, not everyone knew what they wanted in life. Including you, but you felt like you were on a better track than Seonghwa.

“I always think I’m in love and realize too late that I’m actually not.” He told you while avoiding your eyes. It was weird to see Seonghwa so shy and vulnerable, but it did tickle your interest.

“Love isn’t for everyone, you know.” You told him softly. He looked up and his eyes connected with yours, both of you smiling. To other people, it might look like you two were something more than acquaintances. 

“That’s depressing.” He finally said, hiding his smile, but he couldn’t fool you anymore. 

“I never said I was good company.” You laughed while crossing your arms. You actually needed to go to your part-time job, but something was keeping you here. That thing being Seonghwa. 

“I never thought you were.” He said so quickly you almost believed him, but the look in his eyes told you he was just teasing you. Or at least, you hoped.

“That hurts. I thought you wanted to date me.” You said while pretending to be hurt by his words. You pouted while glaring at him, but he seemed unfazed.

“Fake dating.” He emphasized. 

“Potato, potato.” You shrugged. “As much as I like standing in front of buildings, I really need to go.” You told him while waving your hand, signalling you were leaving him.

“Wait.” He said a bit too loudly, making people turn their heads. You turned around, giving him a confused look. 

“I’ll walk you.” He explained while walking up to you.

“You don’t have to.” You told him softly with blushing cheeks.

“If we’re going to fake date, we’ve got to make it believable.” He told you determinately. 

“I actually don’t want to fake date.” You confessed silently, not wanting to hurt his feeling or anything. He seemed so pleased with the fake dating thing, but you really weren’t a fan.

“Am I not handsome enough for your high standards?” He joked, and your body finally relaxed. He didn’t seem like the type of person to push other people into doing something they were uncomfortable with.

“It’s not that, but I’ve read many stories and watched many movies. It’s never a good idea to fake date.” You explained.

“Are you scared you’ll fall in love with me?” He laughed while poking your side teasingly. You couldn’t control your laugh when his hands touched your side.

“I’m more scared that you’ll fall in love with me. You just confessed to me that you easily fall in love.” You told him when he had stopped attacking your sides.

“Touché.” He ended the conversation while maintaining his spot next to you. You were almost at the coffee shop you worked at, and you didn’t know what Seonghwa was going to do when you finally got to your destination. 

“Let’s be friends.” He suddenly spoke up. You stopped walking and just stared at him. Why would Someone like him want to be friends with someone like you? Like you had stated before if he wished he could have more friends than days in a year. 

“I don’t really take any applications at the moment, but I’ll consider if you’re worthy enough.” You told him, and you started walking again, leaving him behind. He quickly jogged to your side, not wanting to miss a moment of the conversation.

“How long will it take?” He asked you eagerly. 

“Usually two to five business days.” You shrugged, keeping your cool.

“Is there a way to speed up the process?” His question caught you off guard. Why was he so determined to be your friend? What game was he playing? 

“That’s something for you to figure out.” You told him, stopping in front of the coffee shop you worked at.

“Can I get a hint?” He pleaded with his eyes big and eager. You hadn’t seen him like this before, and your cold heart melted just a little bit. 

“I trust you can do this on your own.” You told him while opening the door. He followed you inside. “My shift starts in a couple of minutes. Are you planning to help out?” You asked him abruptly. 

“I could use a coffee.” He simply stated. 

“You can order there.” You pointed at the right spot to order where your coworker was playing on her phone.

“I’ll wait until you start working.” He said, and you looked puzzled by his words. “It gives me some time to think about what I want.” He explained quickly. You nodded your head and made your way to the back room. 

“Do you know Seonghwa?” The girl who’s shift was about to end asked you. You simply nodded your head, not wanting to draw too much attention to your blossoming friendship with the handsome man.

“Can you like introduce me to him? He’s just so damn dreamy.” She kept on talking while you were changing into your work clothes. You had never really spoken to her. Well, you had tried but she usually just ignored you. You didn’t really know what to do with this attention she was giving you. 

“I don’t really know him that well, to be honest.” You confessed to her, but she didn’t want to take no for an answer.

“I just tried to get him to order with me, but he was waiting until you started working. You seem to know each other pretty well to me.” She spat.

“He probably just needs some time to think. We don’t have the most basic orders here.” You tried to fight yourself out of the awkward situation. You put on your cap and made your way to the bar. Seonghwa’s face lit up once he noticed you in your work outfit.

“Never wear a cap again.” He joked, but you simply glared at him. You felt the eyes of your coworker on your back, but as always you tried to ignore them. 

“What can I get you?” You asked him politely, and he seemed taken aback by your change of attitude. 

“What can you recommend?” He asked you softly while looking at the menu over your head. You had carefully written the menu on the chalkboard a couple weeks ago. 

“I don’t know what you like.” You told him.

“I like something sweet.” He said while winking at you, and your heart almost combusted by his cuteness. Why was he doing these things to you? What did these things work on you?

“Okay, I can work with that.” You smiled softly at him while prepping his order. 

“Are you coming to the party this Friday?” He asked with his elbows propped on the bar while his head rested on his hands. Your coworker nearly choked on her drink, but Seonghwa ignored her presence altogether. 

“I usually don’t go for two weeks in a row.” You explained to him while giving him his iced coffee with some whipped cream. 

“But I’ll be there.” He pleaded with his adorable puppy eyes.

“You live there. I hope you’re there.” Was all you said.

“Isn’t that enough reason for you to come?” His lips formed into a pout, but you remained calm and unfazed by his actions. You never went out two weeks in a row, and Seonghwa wasn’t going to change your routine.

“I’ll be going.” Your coworker suddenly entered the conversation. You and Seonghwa both looked at her with questionable eyes. 

“See, you’ll have company.” You tried to cut through the awkward atmosphere that had formed.

“Do you know anyone to get in? It’s more like a private event this Friday.” Seonghwa quickly dismissed the girl’s self invitation. 

“I know you, maybe you can get me in?” She asked him seductively. You noticed she had popped open a button or two extra of her shirt. You rolled your eyes at her behaviour and noticed Seonghwa wasn’t affected by her tries at all.

“I’m already taking Y/N.” He told her off, turning his attention back to you. A small smile appeared on his face, but you quickly shook your head.

“Seonghwa, I already told you I’m not going.” You pleaded with him?. You really didn’t want to go.

“Please?” He asked you softly.

“No!” You practically yelled at him.

“For me?” His low voice making you doubt your persistence. Would it be so bad to go for two weeks in a row to a party? You were a good student. Everyone knew that.

“Why?” You challenged him.

“Because I enjoy your company.” He looked please by your question, noticing your wall crumbling down.

“Because I don’t open some extra buttons of my blouse when you’re near?” You asked him sarcastically, and you heard your coworker cough in the background. Served her right. Karma’s a bitch.

“I wouldn’t mind if you popped them open.” Seonghwa seductively said while winking at you, but you quickly covered your chest. 

“Seonghwa!” You yelled at him, but a smile showed him you weren’t mad at him for this dumb comment. 

“I’m sorry, but please, think about it. I’ll add your name to the list.” He told you, taking a drink of the cold beverage. 

“Two to five business days.” You simply told him.

“See ya!” He yelled out before exiting the coffee shop with his iced coffee in hand. Your eyes followed him out until he couldn’t be seen anymore. Your coworker left the shop while glaring at you, but you didn’t care. You were actually quite pleased with yourself for once.

[gb-fics]

Chocolate Mystery

Fanfiction:

Kiryuuin Shou x Kyan Yutaka (Golden Bomber)

Note: A chocolate mystery is like a murder mystery, just that the stakes are way lower. Have a happy Valentine’s Day! (^-^)

Valentine’s Day was a waste of time, that was Shou’s opinion on it at least. Especially since they still had so much to plan and organize until the tour started in March. Mere weeks and they would start their program with two shows per day, not knowing how that would work out at all. They had more important things to do than act lovey-dovey with someone.

Shou felt that way, because he was a responsible adult, to whom the fans were more important than anything else, and not because he didn’t have a significant other to spend the day with.

His bandmates were a different matter of course. Jun was spending Valentine’s Day with his family and Kenji hadn’t passed on a single opportunity to bring up the hot date he had secured for himself. Yutaka hadn’t bragged, but Shou knew, that he always had a date on Valentine’s Day. Most years, he wouldn’t shut up about it.

So, Shou was the only one sitting at home on his own today; not because he was sad and lonely, but because he was the only one dedicated enough to make the sacrifice to ensure their tour would work out as planned. He was angry at the others for leaving all the work up to him - as always. He wasn’t jealous, because Jun had already found the person, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, nor because Kenji would certainly get laid tonight with these obscene good looks of his, nor because of Yutaka.

The doorbell interrupted his negative thoughts.

Shou furrowed his brows. He was not expecting anyone. Absolutely everybody he knew had better things to do today than show up on his doorstep. Didn’t people know it was Valentine’s Day? They were supposed to be smooching or canoodling, or whatever you did on this day when you weren’t Shou.

Suspiciously he went over to the door.

“Yeah?”, he asked over the intercom.

“A delivery for Kiryuuin Shou”, a male voice said.

Shou hesitated. He wasn’t expecting anything. He hadn’t ordered anything online lately and when he did, he usually used his real name, since it was the one showing up on the bills as well. But it wouldn’t be the first time he had ordered something to the office and then forgotten about it. The staff usually forwarded the packages to him using his stage name.

He buzzed up the delivery guy and opened the front door already, so he wouldn’t have to ring again at the apartment door.

The young guy coming up the stairs wore a blue jacket with a logo patched to the shoulder, that looked somewhat official, but clearly didn’t belong to the regular postal service. He carried a small white box in his hand that seemed too delicate and quite frankly too clean to resemble a regular package.

“Mr. Kiryuuin?”, he asked.

“Yes, thank you”, Shou said and bowed his head lightly without taking the box. “What is this?”

The delivery guy looked down at the box in his hands in honest confusion. He looked so young, Shou guessed he was a college student working parttime.

“Well, it’s chocolates”, he pointed out dumbfounded. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m working for this start-up. We offer a delivery service especially for today. So, people can send chocolates to their loved ones. I’ve got a delivery for you.”

Shou stared at the box as if it might contain something poisonous. He sensed a cold and hard knot forming in his stomach. It was a very unpleasant feeling.

“Who sent this?”, he asked.

The delivery guy shrugged apologetic.

“Well, you’re the one who has to figure that out, dude. No girlfriend?”

Slowly Shou shook his head.

“I want to know, who sent this”, he inquired. “Can’t you check your records?”

“No, sorry, can’t do. Most girls pay cash and don’t leave a name. It’s not necessary.” He shrugged.

“Do you know what’s inside?”, Shou wanted to know.

Now the guy furrowed his brow. He looked annoyed. He probably had other deliveries to make. Maybe he had a quote to fulfil.

“It’s probably chocolates. What else would it be?”

“What if someone sends a bomb?”, Shou asked.

The poor boy looked seriously troubled now.

“Why would anyone do that? We just deliver chocolates and flowers and stuff. Just take it.”

Briefly Shou considered to just outright decline it. But then, they would probably just throw out the box and he would lose every chance he had to find out who had sent it to him.

“Fine”, he said warily and took the box.

The guy held out a paper for Shou to sign and he did it absentmindedly, before he took the box inside with him. It really looked pretty and had doted ribbons wrapped around it, too. It seemed like something you would send your crush chocolates in on Valentine’s Day. Even if it were chocolates, it was still troublesome.

Shou placed the box on the kitchen counter and stared at it. He tried to breathe calmly. Just in case, he had locked the front door from the inside.

Whoever had sent him this box knew where he lived. A strange person – someone, who could literally be anyone – knew his address. They could be watching the building right now. There was nothing scarier than an anonymous present send to your private address, when you were a celebrity.

No matter how much Shou tried to fight it, he felt the panic rising in his chest, the anxiety drilling his stomach. He remembered all the trouble it had caused, when his address had gotten leaked the first time: The rushed moving, having to find a new place within a short period of time, organizing the transport of the furniture, while not being able to stay at his own apartment. He had crushed on Yutaka’s couch for more than a week and even after he had finally moved, Yutaka had needed to stay over the first night with him, because he had felt too tense to fall asleep alone at the new place.

More than the stress of moving, it was the feeling of being unsafe at a place that was meant to be his home – his safe space – that Shou dreaded. He didn’t want to go through it again. Constantly scared that someone was staring up to his window, while he packed up his things, scared to leave in the evening, because someone might be waiting on the street for him. Honestly, it had taken Shou months to settle into his new apartment. He still made jokes about being pissed, because someone had forced the trouble of moving upon him, but truth was, that even now, years after, he still felt his chest tightening occasionally whenever he came home late in the evening, not being able to shake the feeling of someone watching him as he unlocked the front door.

He turned around and drew the curtains, although his apartment was up too high for anyone to look in through the window anyway. Instead, he switched on the light overhead and felt a little bit calmer instantly.

He was still anxious, but at least the panic didn’t make him want to throw up anymore.

He considered taking the box over to the next police station. Maybe there were fingerprints on it. Maybe they could send someone back home along with him to watch the door to make sure no creepy stalker was sneaking around his neighbourhood while he slept.

But then the police might just laugh in his face, because a box of chocolates on Valentine’s Day wasn’t exactly much to go by. And he didn’t want to risk any publicity, before he had talked to the management. But could he really call them right now? It was Sunday and everyone was out of office, on Valentine’s Day for sure. Not that he wouldn’t be able to reach anyone, but he would feel bad for bothering them today. It would be better to inform everyone on Monday. No one had dropped dead animals on his doorstep after all. He probably wasn’t in any acute danger.

He really needed to talk to someone, though. Even if it was just to calm himself. Someone, who would understand and who was also affected, because a threat to Shou posed a threat to the entire band of course.

Shou took up his mobile and was about to dial Yutaka’s number, when he stopped short.

Would Yutaka really be okay with it, if he just called him now? He would probably scold Shou for bothering him. On Valentine’s Day moreover, when he had a date for sure. A small, mean part of Shou wanted to call him even more so. It would be the perfect excuse to ruin Yutaka’s date and take his revenge on him for being out having fun, when Shou was sitting home alone, working on the tour for all of them. But then he knew that he would never bring himself to be that much of a jerk. No matter how bitter he was, he didn’t want Yutaka to suffer because of his pettiness. The same went for Kenji, actually. He couldn’t call either of them and disturb their dates for selfish reasons. After all, they might be out with their future spouse this very moment. He couldn’t risk their chance of finding the right person.

So, he called the only person, who already had.

“Hello?”, Jun said after the fourth ring.

“Hey, Jun, it’s me, Shou”, Shou muttered.

“Oh, what’s up?”, Jun sounded tense, as if he dreaded the answer. Maybe he was scared Shou would make him work on his day off.

“I got Valentine’s chocolates”, Shou said. “That means, it’s supposed to be chocolates. It’s really just a white box. And I’m completely freaking out. I mean, it was an anonymous delivery. Jun, I think my address got leaked. Some crazy fan found out where I live and sent me this box and now, I’m not sure, if I should call the management or go to the police or …”

“Shou, calm down”, Jun interrupted him.

Shou took in another deep breath, trying to remind his body that he was not in physical danger right now.

“I’m scared”, Shou said quietly.

“You’re just being paranoid”, Jun said. “Those chocolates could be from anyone.”

“Exactly!”, Shou agreed.

Through the phone he heard Jun sigh.

“I just mean, they could be from the office. Or from someone you know. Have you opened the box yet?”

“Hell, you think I’m crazy?” Shou’s voice sounded too high-pitched in his own ears. “I’ve been sent teeth in the mail before. Fucking teeth. And those were sent to the office. Someone, who is crazy enough to sent it to my private address could be sending a severed ear, or a poisonous spider or whatnot. There is really no way I’m going to open this box.”

“You should just open it”, Jun said. “Didn’t you talk to the others yet?”

Shou stayed silent for a moment, clenching the phone tightly in his hand. He knew that Jun was really just asking about Yutaka, because he was always the one, whom Shou called first.

“I didn’t want to disturb them on Valentine’s Day”, he admitted weakly.

“Oh, but you could disturb me?”, Jun asked huffily.

“A sudden phone call can really ruin a first date”, Shou pointed out. “Your wife is not going to divorce you, just because you picked up the phone.”

Jun sighed once again.

“Okay, Shou, whatever you do, don’t take the box to the police, before even knowing what’s inside. I don’t think you should bother the management with it today either. Just take a look inside and if it’s something weird or dangerous, call me again and we’ll work it out. Okay? Just try to stay calm.”

“You’re just going to hang up on me like that?”, Shou assured in disbelief. “While my life might be in grave danger?”

“Well, it is Valentine’s Day”, Jun reminded him. “So, I’ve got to go. Open the damn box. Talk to you later.”

“Thanks for nothing”, Shou mumbled into the speaker, but the dial tone told him that Jun had already hung up. His bandmates really were useless.

He eyed the box again. Was Jun right? Was he overreacting? Maybe he should just brace himself and open the box. Not that he was going to eat the chocolates, if there were any inside. They might be poisoned. Or filled with a magic love portion. Or make him go bald. But at least he would know for sure what was inside the box.

He shook his head. No, he couldn’t do it. He just wasn’t brave enough. He needed to calm down first.

Turning his back on the white box as if he could trick it into thinking he didn’t care, Shou started pacing the apartment. He wasn’t sure if the movement actually helped to calm himself, but at least it gave him the feeling, that he was doing something. He stayed clear of the windows, though. You never knew who might be watching.

He got out his phone and checked it, although he didn’t know what for. He wasn’t expecting any calls.

Catching some fresh air would be nice. It would certainly relax him to go for a walk outside. But he didn’t dare to leave the apartment. He felt the anxiety rising in his chest almost physically. Moments ago, he had still considered consulting the police, now he couldn’t image going out on his own anymore at all. Eventually he would need to get new groceries. Maybe he could order something online? But how would he known whom to answer the door safely?

Shortly Shou closed his eyes.

His fears were getting irrational now. Maybe it would be better to stay inside today, but even if the box turned out to be from a creepy stalker fan, the management would come pick him up by tomorrow the latest. For that, he really needed to check what was inside the box, though.

There was really no point in avoiding it. He had to take a look inside, before he drew any conclusions. And really, how bad could it be? He had received teeth in the mail before and he had survived that, although it had freaked him out quite a bit. There was a fair chance it wouldn’t get worse than that, even if the circumstances were more frightening this time.

He went back over to the box and stared at it challengingly. It was just a box presumably filled with chocolates. It would not get the better of Shou.

Hesitantly he reached out.

The doorbell rang.

The sound was so loud and unexpected, that Shou flinched so hard, he hit his arm against the kitchen counter. He winced.

Who might that be? The stalker themselves? Were they testing him? Playing mind games?

But then, the explanation didn’t have to be so dark. Maybe Jun had changed his mind and come over to check on Shou. Quite a bit of time had passed since their call. Enough time for him to get here, if he hurried.

Shou walked over to the door and turned on the intercom.

“Yes?”, he asked warily.

“Buzz me up, you fucking moron”, a familiar voice shouted through the speaker.

Shou felt his whole body relaxing instantly. It was alright now. He didn’t know why Yutaka had shown up at his apartment, but it didn’t matter. Important was only that he was here now and just hearing his voice made Shou feel almost safe again.

He pressed the button to allow Yutaka into the building. This time, he waited before opening his front door, though. He stood behind it, until he heard Yutaka’s aggressive knocking. He never rang the doorbell like a normal person, but had to use his fist as if he was trying to pick a fight with the door.

Shou unlocked the door and yanked it open. The desire to just throw himself into Yutaka’s arms was almost overwhelming. He just wanted to be held for a moment, he just wanted to no longer feel alone but physically safe, and it would have been his reaction with any of his acquaintances showing up on his doorstep right now. Yutaka wasn’t special.

Yutaka’s facial expression stopped him short, though.

The lines showing on his forehead made him look grumpy, but he kept his eyes on the floor as if avoiding Shou’s gaze, which was pretty weird for someone, who usually never dodged a confrontation.

“What are you doing here?”, Shou asked.

Yutaka exhaled soundly and he finally looked up. He seemed oddly relieved, as if he had expected a different greeting.

“Jun called me to give me a heads up. He told me your paranoid ass was stressing over Valentine’s chocolate.”

Shou waved him in and made sure to lock the front door again. It made Yutaka roll his eyes visibly.

“It’s just weird”, Shou defended himself. “How would anyone know my private address? It’s scary they were delivered here.”

“The only thing weird about it is that anyone would send you chocolates to begin with. What a strange choice”, Yutaka muttered and went into the apartment without waiting for a proper invitation. He moved like he was at home here, too. “What’s with the curtains?”

Without waiting for an answer Yutaka went over to pull them open and let the daylight in again. He remained standing next to the window.

“Shut them again”, Shou asked. “I’m worried someone might be watching the apartment.”

“God, Shou, it’s probably someone you know. That’s how they knew your address. That’s the most reasonable explanation and what any normal person would assume first.”

Shou didn’t know why Yutaka sounded this angry. He usually had an aggressive way of talking, but at least with Shou he was normally patient. Maybe he was annoyed that Shou had ruined his Valentine’s date. The thought made him feel giddy and gleeful inside, but he tried not to pay attention to it. He was happy that Yutaka had chosen him over his date, but not in an inappropriate way.

“If they know me, they could have given the chocolates to me in person”, Shou said. “If we’re speaking of what a normal person would do.”

“Maybe they were scared of your reaction”, Yutaka said and crossed the arms in front of his chest. It looked funny how he remained standing next to the window instead of sitting down anywhere.

“If they knew me, they should have considered, that it would frighten me this way”, Shou insisted.

He smacked his lips, angry at Yutaka for scolding him instead of offering him the comfort he craved. But then he reminded himself, that Yutaka had probably given up on his date to be here in the first place and he should be less strict with him.

“Maybe they are just stupid”, Yutaka answered, his voice a lot louder than it had to be. “They have to be for liking you in the first place.”

“Why aren’t you on your date?”, Shou asked.

“My date?” Yutaka sounded so baffled, that he forgot to shout this time. “Who told you I had a date?”

Shou shrugged uncomfortably. He didn’t want Yutaka to think he had spent a lot of time picturing him on a date or anything.

“I just assumed”, he said vaguely. “That’s why I called Jun and not you. You always have a Valentine.”

Yutaka sighed.

“Well, this year I don’t. I messed up big time.”

“That doesn’t surprise me”, Shou mocked, more cheerful immediately. “I’m just surprised it never happened before.”

Yutaka gave him a dry smile and nodded over to the box.

“Now, just open the goddamn box already, so we can put that behind us. Whoever sent it probably left a note inside.”

Shou looked at him dumbfounded. He had to admit, that he hadn’t really thought of that yet. Just because the delivery boy hadn’t been able to give a name, he had assumed the box had been sent anonymously. He hadn’t really considered, that it might contain an actual confession.

“Alright”, he agreed sheepishly and turned towards the box. He waited for Yutaka to join him.

He didn’t.

Shou looked up. Yutaka had turned his back on him and was looking out the window as if he didn’t care at all, what Shou was up to. He had lowered his arms again and seemed unable to decide what to do with his hands. That was unusual for him. Normally Yutaka seemed very much at ease with his own body. Briefly Shou considered, that in spite of his dismissive words, Yutaka wasn’t entirely convinced that nothing horrible was inside the box either. Maybe he was also scared of Shou finding a severed ear inside and just tried to act tough to not worry him any further. He had the habit of acting more chill than he really was, just for Shou’s sake.

“Are you just going to let me do it alone?”, Shou asked incredulous.

“What do you want me to do?”, Yutaka asked and scoffed. “You need me to hold your hand?”

Shou felt his cheeks heating up and he lowered his gaze onto the box fast. Actually, he thought that it would feel nice, if Yutaka held his hand to comfort him, but he wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

“Of course not”, he said quietly and reached out to undo the ribbons around the box. With Yutaka by his side, he felt a whole lot braver than before.

Slowly he lifted the lid of the box.

There were chocolates inside indeed. Small, dark pralines that looked like they had been purchased from an actual chocolatier. The expensive kind.

Yutaka had been right about the note, too. On top of the chocolates sat a folded piece of white paper.

Shou took it up and unfolded it. His heart was beating very quickly. He felt scared, but strangely enough not in a dreadful way. He felt nervous.

His eyes fell onto the handwriting.

Shou, the note read. No “dear” or “beloved”, that would indicate a confession. The Valentine’s note started like an announcement. I don’t like admitting this, but I have romantic feelings for you. Since no one else will want you as their Valentine anyway, would you be mine?

The note was signed, too.

Shou put it back down onto the kitchen counter and licked his lips.

“You gave me a scare, idiot”, he said and looked up.

“I didn’t know you wouldn’t even open it”, Yutaka said and finally turned around to face Shou, although they were still several metres apart. “I’m sorry, though. I came here to miniate the damage. I wasn’t meaning to scare you.”

Shou nodded slowly. Yutaka looked lost as if he didn’t know what he was doing at Shou’s apartment any longer.

“Apology accepted”, Shou said.

“You don’t seem surprised”, Yutaka observed.

Shou smiled.

“Well, when you pointed out that the sender would have to be extraordinary stupid, I kind of figured. After all, you’re the dumbest person I know.”

“Alright”, Yutaka said and clapped his hands together. “I just wanted to assure there was no reason for you to be scared. Your address didn’t get leaked. You can sleep peacefully tonight. So, now that that’s settled, I’ll be on my way.”

He finally took a step away from the window to move towards the front door.

“Don’t you want to hear my answer first?”, Shou wanted to know.

Yutaka stopped short and looked at him wide-eyed. His face seemed to mirror the fear Shou had felt only a short while ago. Finally, Shou understood how much he had needed to overcome himself to show up here and face Shou, while he opened the box. He must have wanted to comfort Shou badly, if he was that scared of his reaction and had come here anyway. But then, it was very much like Yutaka to put his own worries behind himself only to take care of Shou – while being a total jerk about it at the same time.

“I think I better … I should …” Yutaka pointed towards the door helplessly. He looked like he wanted to just run out the door, before Shou could answer; like an animal in flight mode.

“Yes”, Shou interrupted him hastily to put him at ease. “Yes, I do want to be your Valentine.”

“Really?” The word came out incredibly soft and the tension disappeared from Yutaka’s shoulders visibly.

“Absolutely”, Shou confirmed and walked over to the window. Yutaka still looked like he could need some comfort. “I’m so happy the chocolates were from you.”

Gently he reached out and put his hands against Yutaka’s neck.

“I’m happy too”, Yutaka whispered.

Shou leaned in and rested his forehead against Yutaka’s. He sensed his body relaxing instantly. Being this close to Yutaka put him at ease like nothing else.

“I’m happy I’m no longer in danger of getting arrested by the police for having shitty taste in men”, Yutaka clarified.

Shou chuckled.

“And I’m happy that I won’t have to move”, he said. “It’s such a hassle.”

Yutaka laughed quietly. Shou sensed his body trembling softly against himself. The sound of Yutaka’s laughter made him feel safe. He leaned in and kissed him right in front of the window.

He didn’t even care to draw the curtains first.

[m00nlitknight]

librarian helper

fandom: IT (2017) pairing:  henry bowers / goody-two-shoes reader word count:  1,635 warnings:  none to really point out? henry being henry?? summary:   Oh, how one tires of stagnant days. extra:   my favorite part of this is when richie said 'mullet-boy bowers' im iconic. i also finished this at like 3am pls b gentle i hope i wrote henry ok! feedback is highly appreciated, thank you for reading!

archive of our own link.

Monday mornings in Derry weren’t ideal, regardless of the context. Teens awoken far too early for their own good, forced to come to grips with the reality that it was the first day back from the weekend. Trudging through the crowded student body and longing for the day to be over just as soon as it was to begin. A variety of feelings made the air heavy and thick with a concoction so truthful to the high school experience; frustration, exhaustion, and the underlying scent of yearning.

Few an individual found themselves bragging of the weekend’s extracurricular activities, cackling with an unusual vigor and energy unlike the rest of their near-ghoulish peers. Others were sitting on the ground, rushing through their assignments with adrenaline only just granted to them; oh yes, the heart-stopping experience of forgetting that there was homework.

Fortunately, you’d hadn’t found yourself in that predicament this morning, having thoroughly done your homework on Friday night. Best to do it then push it off and forget it; your own philosophy. Not to say you hadn’t found yourself in the same situation in times past, nor were you above those whose memory’s had failed them.

Quietly you step up to your locker, opening it and glancing down to your left, where Richie Tozier was currently scribbling nonsense down on what you assumed to be Government. You hummed, putting your things away quickly and retrieving what looked to be the same assignment - some stupid worksheet the teacher assigned, no doubt some kind of busywork. Your class truly had no grasp on the concept of being ‘quiet,’ which annoyed you to no end.

You squatted down to his level, with his pencil not even ceasing as you set the paper in his peripheral. No teachers were at their morning posts yet, either that or the ones who were supposed to be there simply didn’t care to be there.

“Oh - uh, shit, how much?” His eyes shifted from you to the paper quickly as he fumbled to reach for something - likely his wallet.

“Nothing,” Your voice leaves you laced with amusement as you push the paper into his grasp. “Just don’t get caught with it, please.”

“Aw, c’mon! You can’t just hand it the fuck over for free, man, that’ll mean I owe you a solid.”

“Just consider it on the house, Tozier. It’ll be fine, you don’t owe me.”

“Okay, okay, but don’t come hollerin’ when you suddenly need a favor from ol’ Richie, alright?”

You hum in affirmation, turning back to your locker and beginning to sort through the things that would be needed for the day to come. Around you, energy began to rise, individuals of the student body reanimating through social interaction. The morning sun may not have been enough to revitalize them, but it appeared that the promise of teenage-to-teenage interaction was.

Richie finished his work with your worksheet quickly, shoving it back in your direction with a toothy grin. “Thanks, dude, you’re a fuckin’ lifesaver, I swear.”

“Like I said, it’s nothing! Do you need help with anything else? You know I have a basically free second period in the library.”

“Nah, thanks for the offer,” He seemed to finalize, standing up to go through his own locker. “I’ll make sure to send my dumbfuck friends your way if they happen to need any tutoring, though.”

You release a laugh through your nose, head shaking as you did so. Richie looked to you with a momentary smile, only to have it fall when he looked passed to the people around you.

“Alright, don’t panic,” naturally, you felt a little alarmed as a grimace crept onto his features. “ but I think you have a momentary peepin’ Tom right now.”

“Uh ... what ... do you mean?” You couldn’t help the faint caution and apprehension crawling into your voice.

“Mullet-boy Bowers is staring at you like ... really intensely,” he turned to you once again, putting an not-so-reassuring hand on your shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the fuck outta dodge right now.”

With that, he stepped around you, maneuvering through the hallway - likely to class - and leaving you by your lonesome and, unfortunately, vulnerable. Quickly after his departure, the bell rang shrill overhead, signaling the beginning of class as students begrudgingly made their way to their first hour classes. You made yourself among their ranks, gathering your things to hopefully outrun ( or walk in this case ) any physical advancements the fellow student could’ve had on you.

The classroom’s door frame never felt more welcoming as you stepped foot into it, releasing a breath of comfort. Most of the class had yet to filter in, meaning there was more reign to choosing whatever seat you wanted. With a hum of appreciation, you step further in, choosing a seat not-too-close and not-too-far back for your liking, sitting down and preparing for class.

You keep your attention focused on your notebook for the beginning as classmates make their way in, sitting in various spots around the room and leaving you by yourself. Booted footfalls make their dreaded way over to you, finding themselves seated to your right. Sudden fear prickles your skin, suddenly making the room too warm and too cold at once while your shoulders tense. For the love of god, be anyone, anyone other than who you thought it was.

The seat creaks, likely with the weight of its occupant leaning into your vicinity. “Did’ja get the homework done, girlie?” You can almost hear the smirk in his whisper, as though he’s a wolf bearing his maw to a sheep. You tense further, shaking your head as you unconsciously lean further into the empty space you have right.

“S’funny...swear I saw you givin’ it to Trashmouth ‘fore class started,” The seats to your front and back were occupied by others, quite possibly remaining individuals who found an alliance with Henry. “Always thought’ch’re a good girl...be a shame if someone fucked that up for y’huh?”

Blackmail? That didn’t really seem like his style, then again it didn’t quite seem like you were being offered a choice of any kind - especially if he had the man power of his goons with him.

“So what’s it gonna be, huh? We ain’t got much time,” his voice transcribed his annoyance as your mulling was cut short, sliding the paper into his vision as he diligently scribbled the answers down. Across the room you caught the eye of Richie, quickly looking away in shame. You nearly miss the amused “s’what I thought,” murmured from Henry as he finishes the work quickly, shoving your desk with a bark of laughter.

The class continues on with its usually snail-like pace, much to your dismay as you keep your eyes locked on either the clock or your notebook. In front of you sat Belch Huggins, likely to his own humor since you were no longer able to see the board, and to your back sat Victor Criss who was able to sneak in an early nap. Through the paperballs being spat at or thrown at you from your right, you couldn’t help but feel that this was in some way better than having Patrick sit nearest to you - even if he was still creepily staring into your shoulder from behind Henry with what you could only guess was that irking grin. God forbid it was his expressionless face, that churned nervousness in your gut.

The bell rang once again overhead, signaling your freedom to the library as you scrambled to gather your things and rush passed before you had the chance to get cornered. Dumping what you had in your hands in your locker - you figured it would be for later you to organize - you did your best to scamper to the library unseen.

It seemed to have worked for the most part, aside from the bemused glances you garnered from teachers. Only momentary, they shrugged it off as you being a good kid in a hurry. As you entered the vicinity, you released another sigh of relief. If there was one thing you knew, it was that Henry Bowers wouldn’t be caught dead in a library. You didn’t really worry about his friends either, they were probably busy giving some unfortunate soul a swirlie, or whatever.

“Always on time, aren’t you?” The librarian, Ms. Andrews, rhetorical question was met with a beaming smile from you. “I’ve written things down for you to do, I’ll be in and out today helping the bookkeeper in the office.”

With a timid nod, you walked over to what she’d assigned you to do, looking through the short list with a thought of reaffirmation. Checking books back in, sorting back through them, and putting labels on new ones. You didn’t think you’d get through it all in the allotted time, though you were sure she’d been aware. Despite the world’s slow pace of going digital, Derry managed to lag behind - leaving you and your school with the unfortunate continuation of the paper system instead of being able to have the use of a computer.

“I’ll be back soon, dear, you know where where everything is,” she rounded the counter top before stepping out of the room, heels clicking loudly on the linoleum outside the carpeted room. A few moments later, the sound of boots made themselves apparent on the floor outside, going unnoticed by you as you began working on what had been assigned to you.

Looking up, your eyes met the smug gaze of Bowers himself - to which you tensed up once again. It stayed like what for an uncomfortable amount of time, the stuffy silence broken by the likes of you.

“Didn’t think you’d be a fan of the library,” you murmured, closing the book and setting it on the cart to be replaced.

“Wasn’t really, ‘till a lil’ birdy told me where my favorite bunny hangs out fer her second hour,” A sly smirk crawled onto his features as he watched you grimace over the use of the pet name.

He stepped forward, watching a physical flinch from you occur whilst he leaned his elbows onto the counter. It was stupid of him to get worked up over watching you squirm like that, but he had to admit there was definitely a feeling that came along with it. Leaning onto the counter, he gazed into your face. “What’ya say to us peelin’ outta here, goin’ and havin’ some actual fun?”

You fell silent at the question, blush darkening your features all the way to the ear. Unable to keep eye contact, you glanced to the pile of books that suddenly seemed way more interesting. “I’d say,” your voice came out so much more fragile then you’d meant it to as you looked back into his eyes. “Take me to dinner first.”

At your rebuttal, he found himself at a momentary loss for words, his own cheeks dusting with a faint pink. His smirk faltered, before returning at full force. “Can’t a man get a taste first, then?”

“ Uh, ” your mouth went dry, eyes suddenly widening. How could he be so forward?

“What’ll it be, doe-eyes?”

With a glance around the vacant library, you looked to him again. “Follow me.”

His smirk turned wolfish as you led him to the vague-privacy of the bookshelves. Once the doorway was out of sight, and the two of you were tucked away into a corner, you looked to him. “We’ll have to be quick...and quiet.”

He stepped to you, only partially caging you in with one hand. “I can do quick, but I can’t promise quiet, bunny.”

“W-we can’t do much,” you stammer, face flushing as he lowered himself to your neck. “I’m n-not that easy!” You squeak when you feel his lips press against your jugular, putting an embarrassed hand to your mouth.

“Thought we had to be quiet,” he chuckled.

You put your hands onto his face, dragging him backward to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Quickly, he swatted your hands away, coming to rest his own on your waist as you replaced your hands onto his shoulders. The kiss escalated to eyes being closed, lip nipping, and heads turning for a better angle.

You gently pulled away, in turn his hands beginning to roam your mid-section with curiosity as you caught your breath. When he brushed a certain spot, you couldn’t suppress a giggle, much to his amusement as he began to brush it intentionally.

“Henry!” You giggle, putting your hands on his chest to push him away.

“Y’know, I like the sound of my name on your lips, doe-eyes,” He pressed a kiss to your lips once again before pulling away completely. “Maybe you’ll be sayin’ it with more gusto tonight, huh?”

Your face flushes, eyes widening again. “Oh - oh! Uh, maybe..?”

“Meet me durin’ lunch, we’ll talk then,” and with a wink, he set out of the library.

[robinskey]

Firsts (Steve x Reader)

Request: hi! could you write steve x fem! reader where they dated before nancy and stuff but she got pregnant and she just disappeared? (like stopping going to school because she started being homeschooled and stuff like that) and then one day reader (doesn’t know steve works at family video) goes there and robin tells steve something like “don’t be scared but there’s a toddler thats looks like you and has your stupid hair” and then sees the reader and decides to be a father!! fluff and angst !! thank u!

A/N: Okay, so I’m usually not a big fan of stories where the reader gets pregnant (because the idea of kids at this stage of my life majorly freaks me out-sorry if that’s TMI), but this prompt!! A toddler with Steve’s hair!! The angst! The fluff! I loved it. I changed a few minor things (ex: the reader moves away instead of simply being homeschooled) but stayed pretty true to the prompt overall, I think? Thanks for requesting, anon! 

Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking, teenage pregnancy, angst (probably the most angsty fic I’ve posted on here). Story under the cut.

Long before Steve Harrington was the school heartthrob, he was your next-door neighbor, best friend, and first crush. In fact, you shared your first everything with Steve. He gave you your first kiss for a dare in third grade. In sixth grade, Steve asked you to your first-ever junior high dance, the infamous Snow Ball. You and Steve went on your first date the summer after freshman year of high school; he became your first boyfriend shortly thereafter. Steve was your first love-and your first heartbreak.

Because as much as you cared for Steve, he could also be such an asshole. As he climbed up the social ladder of Hawkins High, his newfound popularity inflated his ego. He started receiving invitations to parties that you had no interest in attending. You usually tagged along to the weekend bashes, but on school nights, you told Steve to either skip it or go alone. Your resistance to embrace his new lifestyle sparked a lot of disagreements, which eventually culminated in your first ever full-blown fight.

The two of you were hanging out at his house after school one Thursday afternoon. His parents were gone, as always, so the two of you were in his room. You lay face-down on his bed, pressing your throbbing forehead into one of his pillows, while Steve rifled through his closet. Over the last few days, you’d been exhausted, excessively irritable, and achy all over your body. You felt like you were getting sick, but Steve didn’t seem to care. He was too busy planning his outfit for that evening’s party and trying to convince you to come to it.

“I can’t just show up without my girl, Y/N. What will people think?” Steve asked you. “Besides, it’ll be fun.”

“Maybe for you,” you mumbled into the pillow. “I don’t feel like partying tonight.”

“Maybe you don’t right now. But as soon as you get there, have a few drinks-”

You groaned. The idea of alcohol sounded horrific right then.

“Come on, babe. Don’t be like that,” Steve said, harsher in tone than before. 

“Like what?” you asked, turning your head to look at your boyfriend. He still faced the closet and held a jacket up to the light, inspecting it for any spots or wrinkles. His body language showed no signs of acknowledging that you’d even spoken. “Like what, Steve?” you said, a little louder.

That’s when Steve spun around with a scowl on his face. He answered your inquiry with another question: “What’s the deal with you lately?”

You blinked at him incredulously.

“What’s the deal with me? What’s the deal with you, Steve?”

“Me?” Steve threw his arms up in the air. “This isn’t even about me, Y/N!”

This comment made you jolt into an upright position. “Are you serious?” 

Steve’s hands moved to his hips, and his face contorted into a grimace. “Do I look like I’m freaking kidding?” 

“God, you’re an idiot,” you said, shaking your head. 

Steve’s complexion turned redder by the minute. “I’m an idiot because I want my girlfriend to come to a party with me?”

“Do you even hear yourself?” You rose from the bed, and your voice rose in volume with every word. “Every other word out of your mouth is ‘I, me, my.’ Of course this is about you. You make everything about you, Steve.”

He scoffed. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is! I’ve felt like shit all week, and you’ve barely noticed, and now you’re trying to get me to go to this stupid party, despite the fact that I told you-”

Steve’s anger finally bubbled to the surface and exploded. He took several frantic steps forward; for a moment, you thought his palm was about to connect with your cheek. 

“If you don’t want to go, then don’t!” he yelled in your face. “There are plenty of other bitches who want to party with me!”

You closed your eyes. When they reopened, your vision blurred with tears. 

“Fine,” you spat. The anger had been replaced with hurt. “Go get yourself another bitch, then, because I’m done being yours,” you said before storming out of the house. 

Apparently, Steve followed your instructions. In third period on Friday morning, you overheard Becky Thomas brag to her friends about how she went home with Steve Harrington after last night’s party. At that moment, a sudden wave of nausea washed over you, and you ran to the bathroom without asking for permission. 

After emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet, you sat on the bathroom tile. You leaned your back against the cool stall door and wept into your hands. It wasn’t Becky Thomas making you cry, nor your failed relationship; no, it was the sudden, sinking suspicion that something else entirely was making you sick.

The pregnancy test you picked up from the drugstore after school confirmed your hypothesis. In your confused, tumultuous world, you now knew two things.

One: You were having your now-ex-boyfriend’s baby.

Two: You could never set foot in that school again.

***

It wasn’t until that weekend that the full magnitude of what he had done hit Steve.

Despite what he’d said to you at the house, he didn’t initially go to the party to find a new fling. After your fight, he just wanted to get wasted and forget about his sorrows. But by the time Steve ran into Becky at the party, alcohol was already pulsing through his veins. When he squinted, Becky’s face sort of resembled yours. She was pretty and interested, and he was drunk and lonely. It was the perfect recipe for disaster. 

When he woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and the wrong girl laying in bed beside him, he knew he’d screwed up. However, with such a massive hangover, he couldn’t even imagine driving to school, let alone dream up a heartfelt apology. So he simply shooed Becky out of his house, called in sick, and fell back asleep. 

He laid in bed for the rest of the day, drifting in and out of consciousness. 

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that Steve finally wandered into the kitchen to grab some H2O and a snack. He stared out the window as he filled a glass with tap water. A small figure walked down the sidewalk, gaze cast downward and a plastic bag on her arm. Steve considered running outside then, sweeping you into his arms, and begging for forgiveness. But he didn’t. He just watched your silhouette march across the lawn, unlock the front door, and slip into the house.

After that day, you fell off the face of the earth. You weren’t at school Monday, nor Tuesday; by Wednesday, Steve was drilling your friends on your whereabouts. They all claimed their lips were sealed. On Friday, Steve dropped by your house with a bouquet of flowers. He rung the doorbell, waited patiently, and tried to hide his disappointment when your mother answered the door. Your mother, on the other hand, made no attempt to conceal her disenchantment with the visitor.

“Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N. Is Y/N home? I’d like to talk to her.”

“She’s not here right now.”

Before Steve could ask why, the door slammed in his face.

Eventually, word got out that you’d moved in with family upstate. Nobody knew why for certain. There were rumors, of course-everything from you getting a scholarship to a private school to joining the circus. After a few weeks, though, the vanished classmate disappeared from the minds of her former peers (kind of like Barb). Steve, however, held onto the hope that you would return to Hawkins. He never thought he would fall in love again after you. When he did, she didn’t even love him back. Steve spent three-and-a-half years searching for what he’d had with you, but he couldn’t replace it. He couldn’t replace you.

***

Nearly four years later, Steve’s taking inventory in the back of Family Video. He hums a soft melody mindlessly as he counts VHS tapes. He’s lost in his little world when Robin suddenly appears in the doorway. Her loud, throat-clearing cough startles Steve, and he nearly knocks over a stack of boxes.

“You scared me, you little shit!” Steve hisses. He avoids Robin’s eyes by pretending to study his clipboard while he waits for his heart rate to return to normal.

Robin snickers, knowing full well that Steve’s sharp tone is just an attempt to conceal his embarrassment.

“Hello to you, too, dingus.” 

Robin pauses, then clears her throat again. She doesn’t know how to phrase her question, but she knows she needs to ask it. Well, she doesn’t need to, per say-Steve could just figure it out himself. But, as his friend, she should probably give him a heads-up.

“Did you need something?” Steve asks. 

“Not really. I was just wondering if you had family visiting or something?” 

Steve scribbles something on the spreadsheet in his hand, then looks up. “I mean, if you count my parents being home for once as ‘family visiting’, then sure. But extended family, no. Why?”

“Well…” Robin smacks nervously on the gum in her mouth. “Don’t freak out or anything, but there’s this toddler waddling around the store, and he looks just like you. He’s got your stupid hair and everything.”

Steve hesitates for a moment before dismissing her comment. “All kids look the same.”

Robin blows air out of her cheeks.

“You don’t understand, Steve. Remember the time we were cleaning your garage and stumbled upon your baby album? This kid looks like he walked right out of it.”

“So? Like I said, babies all have the same face. If someone put pictures of infant-you and infant-me side-by-side, I doubt they’d be able to tell the difference.”

“Oh, please, Harrington. I was a much cuter baby than you,” Robin says. She tugs the clipboard out of his grip, places a comforting hand on his shoulder, and gives him a gentle shove toward the door. “I’ll finish this up. Just go investigate out how toddler-you figured out time travel.”

As Steve takes a step out of the storage room, a small body collides with his legs. They both lose their balance. Steve grabs onto a nearby countertop to steady himself, but the kid doesn’t have that luxury. He topples to the floor and lays there for a moment.

Steve bends down, gently helping the little one to his feet. His eyes flick over the boy’s features, from his bushy brown eyebrows and slightly-too-big-for-his-face nose to his bright pink lips and pleasantly chubby cheeks. And, of course, he can’t help noticing the kid’s hair-even without an ounce of product in it, his mane defies gravity. This toddler has more hair on his head than most children twice his age do. Robin’s right-facing this little kid is like staring into a fun-house mirror that makes you look fifteen years younger. 

“Benjamin, get back here! I’m sorry, sir, he’s just excited.”

Steve shifts his gaze above the top of the kid’s hair tower. When his eyes meet those of the young woman hurrying up the aisle, she freezes in place. The flustered apologies cease falling from her lips-which part slightly and curl into an “o.”

There’s a long period of silence, during which the toddler’s doe eyes flicker from you to Steve, Steve to you.

“Hi,” Steve finally manages. His voice trembles, just with the one word. He wants to ask how you are, where you’ve been-but he doesn’t trust his voice. And besides, it seems as though he’s forgotten how to construct sentences.

“Steve?” you whisper, despite the fact that you’re currently Family Video’s only customer. 

“Yeah, uh...hi.”

You already said that. Get it together, dipshit. 

“So, Y/N...long time no see, huh?”

You tightly cross your arms over your chest. Steve can’t tell if you do it to prevent yourself from feeling exposed or to prevent yourself from walking up to him and punching him in the face. Either one would make sense-he has no contact with a girl for four years, and then she shows up with a kid who looks exactly like him, and all he can manage is “long time no see?”

“You could say that,” you murmur, tapping your fingers on your forearm. 

Another awkward pause, ended only when Ben wonders aloud, “What’s in here?” and starts wobbling toward the storage room. You break the apparent spell that binds your feet to the tile and lunge after your son. He’s too fast, though, and disappears through the doorway before you can stop him. A few seconds later, he reappears-this time on the hip of a thin, freckled brunette who smiles at you warmly. Her name tag reads “Robin.” 

“Got him,” she says, pulling the door shut behind her before setting Ben down. He’s on the move again as soon as his feet touch the floor. You watch his chunky little legs run take him away until he vanishes behind a corner. “Hey, uh, I can watch him for a minute, if you guys want to catch up.”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. Kids love me-mostly because I keep a stash of candy behind the counter at all times,” Robin says with a wink. Before you can object, she’s chasing your little boy around the store, and Steve’s staring at you with those pleading puppy-dog eyes you’ve never been able to say “no” to. You still can’t, even after all these years; when he asks if you can talk in private, you agree. Your hand shakes as you twist the doorknob to the storage room, and you immediately make your way to the opposite side of the room. The click of the door as it swings shut behind Steve echoes in your mind.

Steve collapses onto a stack of boxes. He buries his face in his hands. Then, he folds them into the prayer position, pressing the edge of his fingers against his lips. Thirty seconds pass where the only sounds are your breathing, the thud of your footsteps as you pace the room, and the muffled shrieks of your son as a stranger chases him around the store.

Steve finally breaks the silence with what sounds like a joke without a hint of laughter: “I don’t suppose that’s your little brother?” 

“No.”

“Are you his babysitter?”

“No.”

“Random kid you picked up on the street?”

You roll your eyes. “Definitely not.”

“How old is he?” Steve asks.

“He’ll be four this summer.”

Another pause, followed by a hesitant question:

“Is that why you left to go live with your aunt? So nobody would know you were pregnant?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and choke out a “yes.”

Steve nods, taking it all in. He inhales before speaking his next piece. “Just so we’re clear,” he says, “I’m the father, right?”

You stop pacing to glower at Steve. The fire in your glare is about the closest a human’s ever gotten to shooting lasers from their eyes.

“Really, dickwad?”

“I just want to make sure we don’t have any misunderstandings here.”

“Yes,” you say. “One of us was faithful in that relationship.” Your voice drips with venom, and you expect Steve to fire toxicity back.

However, to your astonishment, Steve simply runs his hands through his hair, and admits, “I deserved that.”

“You bet your ass you did,” you hiss, though you struggle to maintain the same level of ferocity as before. The moment you spotted Steve, your body started preparing for a screaming match. You didn’t expect submission.

“Benjamin, huh?”

“If you’re about to criticize how I named the child I carried in my womb for nine long months, I’m about to kick your ass, Harrington.”

“No, no,” Steve says. He gives the faintest hint of a chuckle. “Benjamin. I like it. You know that’s my middle name, right?”

You can’t help rolling your eyes again.

“Of course I do, moron,” you say. Your gaze falls to the floor, and your voice grows smaller as you add, “Why do you think I picked it?”

“You named him after me? Why? I didn’t even know he existed.” 

You detect the bitterness as he speaks, and all the walls around you that had started to sink slightly rose again to their full height. If anyone got to be bitter, it was you. It wasn’t all your fault that a piece of shit got you pregnant. But Steve had always been the sort of guy to convince you that everything would be fine, and it would never happen to you.

But it did. It happened. And while you wouldn’t trade your son for anything, things certainly would have been easier if you’d been able to have him a little later down the line.

“Why?” you repeat, starting to walk in circles around the room again. “Well, for one thing, I never thought I would have to explain it to you.”

“That’s not a reason.” 

“It’s a reason. It’s not the reason, but it’s still a reason.”

“Okay, so what’s the reason?”

You raise a finger to your lips and gnaw on the nail. 

“I thought that’s the closest he would ever get to knowing his father,” you admit. Steve frowns at his hands.

“You should have called me,” he says quietly. “I could’ve at least sent money or something. You shouldn’t have had to take care of the kid all by yourself.”

“No, I shouldn’t have,” you say, voice starting to tremble. You stop pacing but keep your back to Steve. “But I had to. I couldn’t call you. I couldn’t hear your voice. Not when I was still... ” 

“When you were still...?” he prompts. “You were still what, Y/N?”

“I was still in love with you.”

For a second, you’re that scared sixteen-year-old again, the one who could never bear to look at her ultrasounds, cried at every doctor’s appointment, and had to leave her own baby shower early because it was all too much. The welled-up tears finally seep out from under your eyelids and slip down your cheeks.

“In spite of everything, I still loved you.” You swipe at your damp face with the back at your hand before turning to face Steve. He stares at you with glossy eyes but an otherwise-undeterminable expression. “And I knew you wouldn’t want me-not when I came with so much baggage.”

On the other side of the door, footsteps pitter-patter on the tile. Benjamin’s tiny voice calls, “Ready or not, here I come!” Then, he shouts, “I see you, silly!” and breaks into a fit of giggles. 

“I don’t know how anyone could see that little dude as ‘baggage’, even if it wasn’t their kid,” Steve says. 

“You would have, four years ago.”

“Yeah, well. A lot’s changed since then.” Steve sighs, then offers you a small, tired smile. He pats the spot beside him. “C’mere. These boxes are sturdy enough to hold us both.”

You reluctantly plop down next to him, and you both lean back against the wall. 

“Look,” he starts, “I’m really sorry-for everything. I was a self-absorbed piece of shit in high school, and you deserved so much better. But I really did love you,” Steve says, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “In fact, I never stopped.”

Steve leans towards you but stops a few inches from your face. You only hesitate for a millisecond before closing the rest of the gap. As your mouth makes contact with his, fireworks explode in your chest. His lips are even softer than you remember. 

You only take a short break for air before your lips collide once more. The kiss deepens, and you’re transported back to a much simpler time, when it was just you and Steve against the world. 

However, the fantasy doesn’t last long. After a few seconds of connection, Steve pulls away. His eyes glimmer with desire, but his lips speak the words, “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why not?” you utter. Then, your mind jumps to the worst possible conclusion. “Shit-that girl out there-she’s your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

Steve recoils from you slightly.

“Oh, god, no. We’re just friends. I’m not exactly her...type,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just...I don’t want to complicate things. You know, for Ben.”

You scrunch up your face in confusion. “I’m not following.”

“Well...” Steve lets a long breath of air out of his mouth. “Now that I know about Ben, I’d like to be more involved in his life-if that’s okay with you, of course. Even if it’s just sending child support checks or whatever. And maybe, until we figure out what we are-if we’re anything-which, obviously, we don’t have to be…”

Steve trails off as your hand brushes against his, leaving a trail of electricity anywhere you touch. His palms are slightly clammy, but he lets you intertwine your fingers with his. You can feel his heartbeat rapidly pulsing through his wrist.

“I love you, too, Steve,” you say, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, “and I want to be with you. But I understand if you’re not ready for the responsibility of being a father.”

“I don’t know if I’m completely ready,” Steve says softly, “but I want to try. I just don’t want to screw up Ben’s life any more than I already have.” 

“You won’t,” you say. “Ben needs you in his life...almost as much as I do.”

Steve kisses you once more before the two of you head back out into the main part of the store. Robin and Ben are both sitting on the floor in front of the counter. A huge bag of gummy worms is situated between them.

“Hey! You’re back,” Robin chirps, though her words are somewhat strained. She scratches her head awkwardly and not-so-subtly slides the half-empty bag of gummies behind her back. “Listen, uh-Ben started to get a little antsy, so I distracted him with candy. Hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s okay. Thanks for watching him,” you say. 

“No problem. I’m going to go finish taking inventory,” she says, getting to her feet.

As soon as Robin’s gone,  your son runs up to you. He holds out a half-eaten worm as an offering. You ruffle his hair with one hand-and that’s when Ben notices the strange man is holding your other hand.

“Why you touch my mommy?” he asks, glaring up at Steve’s face, which quickly turns a bright shade of fuschia. Steve frantically untangles his fingers from yours with a desperate glance toward you for guidance. 

“Don’t worry, Benny. He’s a friend of Mama’s.”

You sit cross-legged on the floor in front of Ben. Steve follows suit, but he stays in the background, careful to give you plenty of space. Ben immediately climbs in your lap, and you wrap your arms around his chubby little body.

“He’s a very special friend of mine, actually. We’ve been friends for a really long time. We knew each other when I was your age,” you tell him. 

Ben’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. “Forever ago?”

You laugh and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Sure feels like it sometimes.” You bite your lip, unsure of what to say next. “Benny, you know a lot of the other kids at preschool have both a mommy, like me, and a daddy?”

Hearing that question drives a stake through Steve’s heart, but Ben isn’t fazed. He simply nods.

“Well, you have a daddy, too.” You speak slowly, waiting for it to click in your son’s brain. He’s either too stunned or too incompetent to put the pieces together-which, needless to say, is fair, considering he’s only three. You point to Steve but keep your gaze focused on your son. “That’s your daddy, Ben.” 

You and Steve wait in silence for your son’s reaction. Ben doesn’t usually launch into hysterics; though he may have inherited his father’s looks, he managed to evade the “dramatic as heck” gene. Still, you expect some sort of response to this life-changing news. You eventually receive one, but it’s not at all what you anticipated.

“Do you play baseball?” Ben asks Steve. His words are completely devoid of the slightly-aggressive undertone he’d used only minutes before.

Steve blinks-once, twice, three times. Then, you elbow him, and his head moves up and down in confirmation.

“Can you teach me? Like my friends’ daddies teach them?”

A sigh of relief escapes Steve’s lips, which then curl into a cheesy grin.

“I would love to, Ben.”

Your son then turns to you, puppy-dog eyes at the ready. “Can we go to park, Mommy? Pwease?”

“Baby, Daddy’s working-”

“I’ll cover his shift!” a voice calls behind you. Robin sticks her head out the door of the storage room, smirking. “Go have fun, my new favorite little family.”

“What do you say, Stevie?” you ask over your shoulder.

“Let’s do it. Let’s play some baseball.”

Steve disappears into the back room to get his wallet. When he returns, Ben holds out his hand. Steve, beaming with joy, takes it, and the three of you walk out of the store together.

***

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[nctzendreamz]

One Year Anniversary w/ BTS

a/n: i had written this so long ago, but I thought you guys might enjoy!! <3333

jin:

how would he feel?

i feel like this would be a very big deal for jin and he’d make sure you knew it too. with his hectic schedules and time being limited, the fact that you haven’t left him yet is a celebration within itself, but he still can’t help but wake up and feel like it’s a dream to be with someone he loves and admires so much.

what would y’all do?

definitely a stay in the house kind of day. you are an extreme homebody, so you didn’t have any problems with that. he would cook your favorite meal and the two of you would just eat and talk with each other about things going on. time would just be flying by with the two of enjoying each others company like it was a first date. your heart still skipped a beat when you heard his laugh, and his practically jumped out of his chest when your smiled radiated against him. expect passionate love time after your stomachs get settled as well.

what will he get you?

honestly, I feel like jin will get you a whole bunch of nick nack type of items that are special to your relationship like a picture of the two of you, a carving of a baby tiger that you can put on your table because that was your favorite animal to play with when he took you to the zoo, while also getting you a few personal things you like too, like a bracelet with your initials on it, a necklace with your favorite shape as the charm.

[[MORE]]

yoongi:

how would he feel?

yes, I’m fully aware that yoongi is not some emotionless man who doesn’t have a care in the world, but regardless I do think he’s a lowkey person. what I mean by this is that when it comes to your one year anniversary, he might feel head over heels about it, and want to plan this whole romantic thing for it, but you might catch him not exactly showing it by being all over you until later in the night. he would show you more affection with an abundance of gifts and not words.

what would y’all do?

you and yoongi usually just chilled together at your house or his when you both were free to, but for your anniversary you both agreed that you needed to leave the house and try something different. you both would get dressed up really nice, and go to an expensive restaurant, laughing at the prices of the food compared to the actual size of the meal and even though you ate it, you would end up getting fast food after. yoongi would not be able to keep his eyes off you and every time he saw you smile or heard you laugh, he would want to pull out a ring for you to be his for eternity.

what would he get you?

this is gonna so so typical lmao, but one of the things he would definitely do is write you a song. i feel like music is one of yoongi’s favorite ways to communicate, so writing you a song would be the first thing he thought of. secondly, he would get the two of you couple rings. he knew you always wanted those and he also agreed although he would never be caught saying it out loud that when the two of you were far apart, it would make him feel like you were still connected somehow. yoongi would also get you bags and bags of expensive clothes and hoodies, followed by a matching watch to the one you bought him for his birthday a couple months before.

hoseok:

how would he feel?

hoseok would be so overjoyed that you’ve made it this far, and you’re gonna know it. everyday that you’ve been together has done nothing but give him this warm feeling that he didn’t know he needed, and you truly are his best friend in the whole entire world. he loves you so much and is so grateful to have you so he’s going to do everything to make sure you understand that.

what would y’all do?

the one thing the other members always teased you and hoseok about was how “high end” you were. after you started dating hoseok, in his eyes you became one, so everything he had you had too. we all know how lavish he lives, and your 1 year anniversary would be nothing less than that. he will plan a 4 day trip to Japan. hoseok is taking you shopping until your arms fall off, you’re going to the most expensive restaurant, you’re going to the nicest hotel in the city, he’s going all out.

what would he get you?

i didn’t realize I lowkey said it above, but most definitely takes you shopping. he will legit just follow you around the store, letting you model everything you buy for him wishing he could do this all day. he’s also another member that will have you ICED OUT! more than any other member tbh. y’all will have so much matching jewelry, but his favorite was the gold J chain that you eagerly put around your neck.

namjoon:

how he feels about it?

oh does this boy love you more than anything. he might not have told you everyday, but you are his rock and his soulmate for real, yet he’s similar to yoongi in the sense that he’s not over the top about showing how he feels. actually, for the whole year you’ve been together namjoon has been lowkey, only allowing you to see his “soft” and complete boyfriend material side, nobody else. on his Instagram he posted a few aethstetic pictures and you could get the occasional women crush wednesday on his snap story, but the rest was really between the two of you. it was something you often complained about, which is why on the day of your one year namjoon really did try his best to be extra romantic.

what would y’all do?

another trip taker. he made it a surprise as he knew you’d never offer it even if you thought about it as you knew how tired he was. you woke in inside of a house with him sleeping beside you. yes, he rented a whole house for y’all to stay in for the weekend as he had to get back to work on Monday.

what did he get you?

instead of writing a song, he writes you a long poem about how favorite things about you and how much he loves you. namjoon isn’t much of a icy man, but he knows you love jewelry so he gets you plentiful.

jimin:

how does he feel about it?

y’all know jimin is somehow a soft baby but at the same time the manliest man ever. like idk what it is about him, but I soooo see him as the “I’m sweet&goofy to my baby but I can also get serious” type of guy, and that’s definitely what you’re gonna see. he’s gonna take your one year very seriously and he's so blessed to have you in his life. for every day that you’ve loved him, you’ll get all that love back in one day. he knows y’all have had your ups and down and just like Jin there were times where he swore you would leave him because of the hectic schedule, but y’all made it and he loves you so much.

what will y’all do?

thankfully, your anniversary fell on a time period where bts had some time off, so he got you a week vacation to busan, where you two honestly didn’t do anything over the top compared to hoseok. the both of you were perfectly content staying in bed all day, catching up on all the love you missed out on while the two of you were at work. he’ll continually post you all over his (private) Snapchat story to brag to all of his friends and members about the great time you’re having, and he’ll cook for you legit everyday. like it might as well be your birthday because he’s not letting you love a muscle even though it’s a mutual event.

what did he get you?

i feel like I’m saying jewelry for everyone but they all be low key blinged out I can’t help it. another couple ring appreciator. in yours, his initials were carved in the inside, and in his yours. he also gets you the most sentimental gift ever. a whole book with all your memories. pictures and pictures ft more pictures of every date, every selfie ugly or cute, and lastly a letter. in this letter jimin would tell you everything he’s never said. he’d tell you about how after the two of you hung up on FaceTime when he was on tour, he cried when he thought about the fact that he couldn’t touch you, kiss you, wipe your own tears away that he had just saw before the call ended. how just the sound of your laugh can cure any depression, sadness, or worrieness he feels. all of that.

taehyung:

how he feels about it?

it wouldn’t hit him until the day before that you two had made it this far. he would be so quiet and people would think he was upset, but in reality he couldn’t be happier. every memory would run through his mind, and it would put a permanent smirk on his face.

what will y’all do?

another trip taker. he asked you a month ago if you could go anywhere in the world where would it be, and you said Aruba. now you were in Aruba. he would be sure that he didn’t have any conflicting schedules, and would try to make it the best vacation ever. the two of you will do everything possible to do.

what did he get you? other than Aruba lmfao

a lot of clothes. he had thought long and hard about it, and he felt this was the best thing to buy. he also wrote you a letter like jimin, but he wasn’t very confident in it. he tried his best to express himself on paper, but how could he put his love for you in words? it was impossible.

jungkook:

how does he feel?

jungkook is going to try his hardest to be cool about everything. of course he will tell you how much he loves you, but he still will be fighting to be relaxed and calm about it all. it wouldn’t hit him until the day was over that he had truly reached a milestone with you.

what will y’all do?

in reality, he would want to take you on a trip so bad. he didn’t care where, he just wanted to get away with you. but he wasn’t allowed as bts was still promoting, so he had to settle on two days with you, promising more later. the fact that you said one day would’ve been okay made him feel even worse. he had let you plan it out since you told him you wanted to stay home. the two of you cooked together, failing horribly but making more memories. as you ate, you would just talk forever. it’s 1am, and you’re still talking. after that, you’re going to bed and not leaving until he has to leave again unless one of you have to pee.

what will he get you?

when he gave you a bag of photos, you thought it would be pictures of you, and some were, but a lot were pictures of nature.

“they remind me of you. even though you’re more beautiful.”

he would also get you jewelry because...it’s a must. he had a shopping spree waiting for you as well, but he was saving that for when you two actually had a vacation.

[maaaaaatryoshka0325]

Tourniquet - Han Jisung Gang AU Part 2

(Part1) (Part3) (Part4) (Part5) (Part6) (Part7) (Part8)

Waking up whenever you want on your day off from both work and school was a blessing. You stretched with a smile and slipped out of bed, heading for the shower. You washed your face and hair and did yourself up a bit, looking in the mirror feeling satisfied.

You grabbed your bag and headed out the door and into the city. You decided to have a you day, You happily walked into a cafe and ordered your drink when you felt a presence behind you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

You jumped out of your skin and whipped your head around, seeing an amused Jisung.

“Jisung! You scared me half to death!” You huffed.

“Sorry! That was pretty funny though.” He chucked, a big, stupid grin on his face.

“Oh haha, yeah so funny.” You said sarcastically. 

“Well, I at least thought it was.” He giggled.

You rolled your eyes and ordered your drink, pulling out your wallet, when Jisung ordered his own on the same tab and paid for both.

“H-Hey you didn’t have to do that.” You said awkwardly.

He shrugged and smiled at you.

“I wanted to.” He said.

You both sat down as you drank your drinks.

“Thank you, Jisung. That was really nice of you.” You still feeling a little shy about him paying for your drink.

“No problem.” He said with a big grin.

You smiled back and drank your drink, your eyes wandering out the window. It was beautiful out, nice and sunny, and not a cloud in the sky.

“So what are you doing, walking around by yourself?” Jisung asked.

“Well, it’s the first day I’ve had off of school and work and could have some time to go out and about.” You said, tilting your head to the side. ‘What about you? None of the guys with you today?”

“Nah, they’re all busy or are too lazy and I didn’t feel like staying home and doing nothing.” He said.

“Oh, I see.” You said, looking at him from across the table.

He was pretty. He had nice, big eyes, a beautiful smile, a nice nose, and a pretty decent body. When he smiled, his eyes shone so bright.

“What made you choose to come to Seoul and go to school here?” He asked.

“I was just interested in the school, and I thought it’d be cool to travel, so I learned Korean and came here.” You said.

“Ahh, where are you from?” He asked.

“(country).” You responded.

“Nice! Chan and Felix are from Australia, but me and the others are from here.” He said.

“Were you born here in Seoul?” You asked.

“Nah, I was born in Incheon.” He said. “But Hyunjin and Jeongin were born here in Seoul.”

“Jeongin?” You asked.

“Really young kid, looks kinda like a fox.” He said.

You realized who he was talking about. Jeongin looked really young, and he had really big eyes and a sweet smile.

“Ahh, I see.” You hummed, drinking your drink.

“You know Hyunjin though, right?’ He asked.

“Kind of. He’s in my Korean class.” You said.

He chuckled, his eyes shining.

“I’m guessing you’re not one of the girls that swoons over him?” He asked.

“Swooning over him? He stared at me for a whole class period, that’s weird.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Jisung laughed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Most girls would swoon if he even glanced at them. You’re pretty interesting.” He said, a big smile on his face.

“Interesting? I’m interesting for not swooning over your friend?” You asked, raising a brow.

“Interesting enough to tell him to ‘take a picture, a lasts longer.’” He said with a laugh.

Your cheeks flared up as you stared at him in shock.

“They told you about that?” You asked.

“Yeah, you had Chan dying of laughter.” He laughed.

“Oh my God.” You groaned, dropping your head in your hands.

“Hey, it was funny okay? I admire you for that.” He laughed..

“You admire me?” You asked with a teasing smile.

“Maybe I do.” He said with a smirk.

Your cheeks turned a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at him.

After you both finished your drinks, you threw out your trash and walked out the door.

“Heading anywhere special?” He asked.

“Nah, just window shopping.” You said.

“I thought only grandma’s window shop.” He said with a grin.

“Oh shut up!” You hissed playfully, pushing passed him.

“Hey, wait!” He said, walking with you.

‘Mind if I tag along?” He asked.

“Doesn’t that make you a grandma too?” You asked in a teasing tone.

“Well, I don’t like to brag but, I’m one hot grandma.” He said with a grin.

“Whatever.” You laughed.

You walked into a store and looked around, heading into the make up section.

“Wow, you ladies spend a lot on make up.” He said, looking at the prices.

“Yeah, it can be horrific, especially when it all adds up.” You said, looking at a few lipstick colors.

“Looking for a new color?” He asked.

You nodded as he bent down and looked at some.

“How about this one?” He asked, putting it up to your lips and looking at how it went with your skin tone.

“It goes great with your skin.” He said.

You looked at it and smiled.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty color too.” You said, taking the lipstick.

He smiled at you as you both continued to look around. You looked at a pallet and saw the sample pallet above it. You were about to use your arm when Jisung offered his own.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

He smiled and nodded as you rubbed the colors on his arm, looking down at the colors.

“Oh they’re pretty, and the consistency is nice.” You said.

You noticed a women watching you both, and she gave you a smile.

“You have such a nice boyfriend.” She said.

Your cheeks turned red at her remark, as did Jisung’s.

“W-We’re not dating.” You said, cheeks flaring up.

“Really? Well, you two would be cute together.” She said.

Jisung awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as you both bowed to her as she walked away.

“Well, that was awkward.” He said.

“Yeah, a little bit.” You said, trying to hide your red face.

You occupied yourself by looking at more make up before paying for the pallet and lipstick. You both walked out of the store as he turned to you.

“Are you hungry? Cause I am.” He said.

“Maybe.” You laughed.

“Don’t tell me your one of those girls that don’t eat in front of a guy.” He groaned.

“I’m not.” You huffed.

“Alright.” He smirked. “Impress me.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You both sat in a diner, looking at the menu. Now that you smelled food, you were VERY hungry, and you decided to act on your bluff.

“Do you two know what you want?” Your waitress asked.

She was one of those “I don’t like my job but I need it” type of people, you could tell from her attitude.

“I’ll have the steak and mashed potatoes please.” Jisung said.

“And let me guess,” She said. “A salad for the lady?” 

“Thank you for worrying about my diet, but I think I’ll go with the double cheeseburger and fries please.” You said, handing her your menu.

You couldn’t help but catch Jisung’s smile. When she walked away, he giggled.

“Okay, I’ll be impressed if you can eat it all.” He said with a smirk.

“Don’t test me, cause I’ll actually eat it all.” You said.

“Looks like I’ll have to test you.” He said with a smile.

You rolled your eyes and giggled as you both sat there. You looked at his hands for a moment.

They’re pretty too.

You shook the weird thought out of your head as he looked at you.

“So, what made you want to do forensic psychology?” He asked.

“Hmmm. I was always fond of getting into people’s heads, like, to know what they’re thinking. I find it so interesting. And I’ve always had a fascination for serial killers and such. So I thought it’d be cool to get into their heads and learn why they did what they did, and how they felt before, during, and after.” You said.

His eyes sparkled as you talked, listening intently and looking at you with his big eyes.

“I love that. I think you’ll do great.” He said.

“What about you? Why did you choose business?” You asked.

“Uhhh.... Just something I’m good at.” He said.

You wanted to ask him why he had to think and why he was so hesitant, but the waitress dropped off your food and your eyes went wide at the size of the burger. You looked up to see Jisung smirking at you.

“Don’t be shy now, Y/N.” He said.

“Oh, I won’t.” You said, grabbing the burger and taking a big bite.

It was really juicy and you smiled at him as you swallowed.

“Wow, this is really good.” You said, taking another big bite.

He smiled and cut off a piece of his steak, sticking it in his mouth.

“Yeah, their food here is really good.” He said, chewing on the piece.

You nodded, and just about almost finished your burger, you start to become full.

“What’s wrong? Can’t act on your bluff?” He asked, smiling at you.

You frown and shove the last piece into your mouth, your eyes on his until you swallow. He sat there for a moment before he started to laugh.

“Okay,” He said, laughing. ‘I’m impressed.” 

When you both finished, you took out your wallet, but he shook his head.

“I got this.” He said.

“What? No, you paid for my drink earlier.” You said.

“I invited you out to eat, therefor I’m paying.” He said.

You were about to say something when he narrowed his eyes on you, actually looking quite intimidating.

“I’m paying Y/N.” He said.

“Fine.” You huffed.

He smiled and paid the bill before walking out of the diner with you. When you both got outside, it was getting dark.

“I guess I should head back home. I have work in the morning.” You said.

You turned to him and smiled.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday.” You said.

“Are you walking home?” He asked.

You nodded and he sighed.

“I’ll walk you home. You shouldn’t be walking home by yourself at night, especially with how crazy it’s been.” He said.

He was right. There had been multiple times people have been robbed around here at night.

“But what about you? You’d have to walk me home then walk all the way back to your house.” You said.

“I’ll be fine. Now lets get you home.” He said walking past you and towards your apartment.

You sighed and followed him, walking in step beside him. He was quiet for a bit, and you started to feel awkward.

“Jisung?” You asked.

“Hm?” He hummed.

“Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun. And thank you for walking me home.” You said.

He looked at you and smiled.

“No problem Y/N. Thank you as well for spending the day with me, I had a lot of fun too.” He said.

You smiled at him and he smiled back, making your heart skip a beat.

“U-Um, how far do you live from my apartment?” You asked.

“About a twenty minute walk.” He said.

“That’s far.... You walked me halfway, you should really head back to your house.” You said.

He looked at you for a moment, pausing and almost making you bump into him.

“Y/N, I’m walking you all the way home, got it? I won’t let a women walk alone when it’s dark outside.” He said.

Your cheeks turned red as you nodded.

“You have more of a chance of something happening when you’re walking alone for twenty minutes.” You said, not looking up at him.

He ruffled your hair and gave you a sweet smile.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” He said.

You quickly brushed him off and continued walking, him directly beside you.

When you got to your apartment you turned towards him.

“Thank you, Jisung. I really appreciate everything you did today.” You said.

“No problem. Thank you for spending time with me, I had fun.” He said with a smile.

You smiled back and he ruffled your hair, turning away from you.

“Wait!” You called.

He stopped and gave you a questioning look.

“T-Take my number and text me when you get home.” You said.

He arched a brow and smirked at you.

“Already trying to make a move on me?” He asked, handing you his phone.

“You wish.” You scoffed, putting your number in.

He smiled at you and waved goodbye before walking away. You watched him disappear before heading into your apartment and heading into the bathroom. You washed and cleansed your face before getting into a pair of sweatpants and an over-sized shirt. Your phone dinged and you looked at an unknown number.

Unknown - I got home okay, though I was chased by a very enraged weiner dog.

You laughed at his text.

You -  A weiner dog? Really? They’re so tiny.

Unknown - Tiny and vicious. Like Changbin Hyung.

You started cracking up, remembering how short but intimidating his friend was.

You - lol, I can see you running from the weiner dog and Changbin

Unknown - whatever :(((

You - lol, thanks again. For everything.

Unknow - No problem. Goodnight Y/N

You - Goodnight Jisung

You rolled over in bed and buried your face into the blankets, allowing sleep to over come you., a small smile on your face.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 1 - (totally uninterested.)

I tapped my pen on the page in front of me. Alexander III of Macedon, commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon and a member of the Argead dynasty. If I read the sentence three more times, maybe it would stick and maybe--suddenly--I’d give a shit.

Working at the library on campus would be great, I thought. I’d get homework done, get a fair share of people watching. Hell--the student center was right next door, leaving me with a plethora of snack options when I was stuck in the same spot from 8pm to midnight every Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday.

“Do you have to keep doing that?”

I pulled my eyes up slowly, dramatically, if only to let him know how completely unimpressed I was with his existence.

“I’m trying to focus,” I nodded at him--not that he’d ever know the definition of that word.

“Well I can’t focus when you’re making such a ruckus,” his accent seemed to lilt off his tongue. I shuddered at the thought that I once--albeit with a fair amount of alcohol--found it attractive. When I first met him--when he was new on campus and still had that New Kid Charm, I thought his accent--paired with the long hair, the rings, you know, the vibe--was hot.

I thought, maybe just for a second, that there’d be steamy library sex in my future that I’d be able to brag about to Kristen soon. But alas, when I started spending my Wednesday and Thursday nights with him, I soon realized that his accent was rather overrated and his sense of humor was dry, sarcastic, and frankly, just not that funny. I especially noticed it when we suddenly were working every shift together.

I stared back at the textbook again. Alexander III of Macedon, commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon and a member of the Argead dynasty.

“S’cuse me--how do I reserve a study room for Saturday?”

I looked up to see Ethan Davis, who, up until now, I was convinced didn’t even know I existed. He had a sweet smile on, clearly waiting for me to respond, but in true Nora fashion, I decided that I’d just stare at him with my mouth ajar.

“Hey man,” Harry said, his eyes moving from my face and back to Ethan. “I can do it for you. What time?” He shook the mouse to wake up the desktop, typing in the username and password. 

“11am would be good,” Ethan said, keeping his eyes on Harry as he easily pretending that I wasn’t sitting right beside them.  

“Student ID number?”

Ethan handed his card over the counter, Harry took it and punched the numbers in quickly before handing it back. “Thanks, you’re all set.”

Ethan retreated, catching up with the group of boys who seemed to wait for him by the door. Again, another chance at becoming the future Mrs. Davis, ripped out of my hands by the worst coworker on the planet himself.

“You’re atrocious,” he said under his breath, turning back to his phone to compose a message.

“I am not,” I shot back quickly, feeling pressured to defend my honor. Harry had no idea what he was talking about. He seemed to be too busy finding me obnoxious and bossy to have the slightest clue what went on in my head when Ethan Davis neared the counter.

Sure--it’d only happened three times. Once was for a charger, the second was to ask what time we closed, and the third, tonight, was to reserve a study room. I would have handled it--but Harry was too quick and got in the way of what was sure to have been the moment that Ethan and I fell in love. He basically snatched my one chance at happiness right out of my hands. 

“You can barely even breathe when he comes over here. You might as well just lose consciousness altogether.”

I rolled my eyes at him, forcing myself, once again, to read the same line in my textbook. Alexander III of Macedon, commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon and a member of the Argead dynasty.

“What do you find so enchanting about him anyway?”

I flipped the book shut, pushing myself away from the counter and turning to face my less than pleasant front desk pal. “Well,” I drew out the word, flashing him a smile and fluttered eyelashes. If he were biting, I was sure to give it to him. “I mean have you just seen how dreamy his eyes are? And his hands,” I said, holding mine up in front of me to examine. “I just want them,” I slapped my own hands up to my chest, fondling myself for the entire library to see. “To be all over my tits.”

I figured that giving him the obnoxious reasons that a thirteen year old version of myself would have journaled about would finally shut him up.

Harry let out a quiet--yet dismissive--laugh, and shook his head. “Forget I asked.”

“I’m just answering, dude. Just giving you all the pervy details that I daydream about while we sit back here.”

He seemed rather alarmed by this, going back to his phone as he opened up Snapchat.

“Aren’t you low key friends with him, anyway?”

He clicked through someone’s story but didn’t lift his eyes from the screen. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“We’re not friends,” he shook his head and furrowed his brow, as if the question was offensive.

“Right--okay, he’s on the basketball team, you’re on the soccer team. Rival enemies--that sort of thing?”

“No,” he turned to look at me, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair. “He’s friends with my roommates, so he’ll be in my apartment sometimes. We’re not friends, though. Don’t get any ideas.”

“I don’t have any ideas,” I lied, leaning back to stretch my legs up and in front of me to rest on the desk, he peered up at my movement but continued to ignore me. “I just figured if you’re friends with him, we could all--I dunno--hang out.”

“I’m not friends with him, Nora. He just ends up in my apartment sometimes with some other guys. That was the highlight of my relationship with him, what you just saw.”

I let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re no help. And you didn’t even finish stacking the returns.”

“You said you were going to do that!” He got this confused and disgruntled look on his face, which, if I didn’t know how much of a asshat he could be, I would have thought was kind of endearing.

**

On a Friday night two weeks later, I found myself in the dimly lit kitchen of a frat house somewhere north of campus. Instead of talking to boys like I should have been doing, I was busy trying to talk Kristen off the ledge. Somehow, she’d convinced herself that being out late tonight would lead to her failing her test on Monday morning--which, she argued, would clearly lead to her failing out of college all together.

My days of telling Kristen to live a little were pretty much gone, especially now that she had a boyfriend, good grades, and a good internship lined up for the summer (a whole school year in advance).

So, as good friends do, I was standing by her side with a beer in my hand instead of near the pong table and the cute guys in the living room--but I was definitely bitter. 

“Hanson,” a voice greeted from behind me. I turned over my shoulder to see Harry, lifting a beer in the air to greet me with a tight lipped smile. 

“Not now,” I said, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. If I wasn’t able to actually enjoy myself tonight, the last thing I was going to do was engage in the usual behind the desk banter. 

“Nice to see you outside of the library, too,” he rolled his eyes, laughing a bit at the scowl on my face. “You’re missing a chance at true love, I see.”

Kristen, who’d only spoken to Harry inside of the library twice in her entire life, didn’t seem to find his joking funny. “It’s not true love,” she rolled her eyes quickly, annoyed that I wasn’t supporting her academic anxiety.

“You don’t know that,” I shot back at her quickly, staring back out into the living room to take in the sight of Ethan Davis--in a much more formal get up that the last time we’d crossed paths outside the gym on Tuesday night.

I mean, it was formal if you considered grey pants and a blue button down to be formal. But really, I was just happy to admire anything on his body.

“You two seem to be busy,” Harry nodded to himself, reaching around me to grab another beer from the fridge before straightening back up. “I’ll see you later, Nora.”

“No, Harry, wait. Would you please tell Kristen here that she has a giant stick up her ass--mainly because she thinks getting a B on a paper will ruin her life altogether?”

Harry pushed his lips out as if he were deep in thought. He looked between me and Kristen and then settled back on me with a smirk. “Out of all the people I know, Nora, you’re the one with a stick up her ass.”

I let out a dramatic sigh, rolling my eyes and turning my back to Harry. If he weren’t going to be on my side, I had no reason to be consulting with him around anything other than the Dewey Decimal System and where the New England Periodical went.

“I’m leaving, okay?” Kristen said, letting her hand rest on my shoulder. “Have a good time, get drunk, make out with you know who, just don’t wake me up when you stumble in at 2am.”

She offered Harry a smile but left us in the kitchen and I called out after her. “Don’t forget to remove the stick up your ass when you get in bed!”

She held up her right hand to give me the finger (lovingly) as she walked out. I brought my eyes back to Harry and he only smirked down at me. I hated the smug look on his face.

Harry--who was really just a goofy kid with hair that was too long and who’s favorite outfit seemed to be adidas sweatpants and a t-shirt--wasn’t that much taller than me. I was right in the middle when it came to growth charts. I was never that short girl who could barely reach shit and needed help getting things from the pantry.

I was also never the girl who towered over all the guys in her grade.

But here, in the kitchen of some college party with lights dim enough to barely make out each other’s faces, I didn’t like that he could look down at me.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I said, my eyes narrowed, only causing him to smirk more than he’d been before.

“Okay,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

**

It was 5pm--the start of my Tuesday evening shift--and Harry was nowhere to be found. I huffed as I logged onto the computer to record the start of my shift.

I typed in the username and password, rolling my eyes at the lack of creativity that the full time library staff put into this sort of thing. InformationDesk, password: AmericanULibrary123.

American University, home of lots of politician-hopefuls and a bunch of idiot staff, apparently. I mean, it wasn’t like people were dying to break into the information desk computer, but you’d think that a good university in D.C. would employ people with a bit more...intelligence.

My phone buzzed on the desk beside me, Harry’s name popping up on the screen.

Not going to be able to make it. What do I need to do to get you to clock in and out for me?

I let out a snort as I typed out a response.

Pay me a million dollars.

Seriously, Nora!

I’ll try to make it in about an hour or two but it’s not likely. I’ll buy you a beer.

I thought on it for a second, and realized that Harry did have something I wanted, and it wasn’t beer. 

Bring me somewhere to hangout with Ethan.

I checked out a book for a freshman who appeared in front of me, scanned her card, and then read his next message.

You want to sit in my living room one night when he’s over? That sounds awkward.

Well we can act like we’re friends, you know.

I’m a poly-sci major, not an award winning actor.

!!!!!!

Okay, looks like a small paycheck for you this week.

:)

Alright. He normally hangs out with Ryan on Thursday. You can come.

Wow, I am so honored. Can’t wait. I’ll bring the champagne.

Please don’t.

**

Despite Harry’s warning that he’d miss his entire shift, he showed up around 9pm with a backpack and a soccer ball in tow.

“Where were you?” I asked, thankful for the distraction and shutting the textbook I’d had in front of me. “Don’t you finish practice at five?”

“Had a thing, don’t worry about it,” he said simply, shrugging his backpack off behind the desk and flopping into the seat beside me. He ran a hand through his hair (which was an in annoyingly stylish man bun) and picked up his phone--apparently uninterested in conversation.

“A thing?” I pressed, leaning forward to lower my voice. “Sounds secretive and mysterious.”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye--clearly unimpressed with my curiosity. “Leave it, Nora. I’m here now.”

“You asked me to lie for you!” I whispered at him, hoping to convince him to give me the dirt. Not only did he basically owe it to me due to the way I put myself on the line, but I was also just nosey and interested. “When someone lies for you they get to be in on the secrets!” I reminded.

He let out a sigh and clicked his phone shut, leaning forward to place it on the desk. “I do a soccer workshop for The Boys and Girls Club. It’s community service.”

“Community service?” I pulled my head back, confused by his words.

“Yeah--I owe one hundred hours because I punched Luke Billups last year.”

“What?!” I leaned forward, my voice still a hushed whisper because--you know--library crap. “You punched Luke Billups? Why? Did you get arrested?!”

“No, Jesus, relax,” he let out a displeased grunt and cleared his throat as he leaned forward to give me more information. I was enthralled, really.

Harry definitely didn’t strike me as the type of person to get physically violent--let alone get in trouble for it. He was a nice kid, kind of quiet sometimes, but clearly very sarcastic and argumentative.

“We were drunk and he said something stupid and I punched him and he had to go to the ER to get stitches on his eyebrow,” he said all of this as if it were very casual information. His voice was still quiet enough to ensure that no one could hear us, but his tone seemed to minimize their altercation.

“Wow,” I said, my mouth still open in shock. “So you coach little kids, that’s cute.”

He shrugged his shoulder but didn’t respond, picking up his phone again.

“But wait, so why don’t you want anyone to know that you coach little kids?”

He let out another sigh, seemingly annoyed that I continued to ask questions--but he continued to answer, so I simply ignored his eye rolls and listened eagerly. “If I do the hundred hours, I get everything wiped off my record.”

I stared at him, still sort of unclear on the situation. He sensed this, leaned back in his chair, and continued. “If my goal is to hold public office at some point, I can’t have a record.”

His answer made sense, but I got distracted by his blatant English accent. “Don’t you have to be born here to hold office?”

“Federally, yes, locally, no. And I’m a citizen, I’ve lived here since I was thirteen.” He sounded almost offended, so I pulled away from him and let out a sigh.

“Damn, that’s wild. I’m so glad to just be a journalism major. I can get arrested as much as I want,” I let out a laugh, which pulled one out of him too.

“Alright, so you really want to come over on Thursday?”

I turned back to my textbook, opening it back up to the page I’d been on earlier. “Not to see you,” I said simply. “To see Ethan, yes. Can you guarantee he’ll be there?”

“Eh, yeah, pretty much. He always at least stops by after practice with Ryan.”

“What should I wear?” I asked quickly, leaning my head on my hand to fantasize about what the night would entail. Harry’s eyebrows dipped in confusion, but he kept his eyes off of me as he pulled out his laptop. “Is it casual? Should I wear like leggings and a sweater, or--”

“Just wear that,” he said as he let his eyes scan over my body and my current outfit. Jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel.

I rolled my eyes at him, he barely put any thought into it--which told me that he clearly didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.

“Are you sure he’ll be there?” I asked again, keeping my eyes diligently on him as he typed away at something on his computer. He seemed completely unbothered by my stare, only looking at my quickly out of the corner of his eye before bringing his eyes right back to the webpage he had up.

He let out a sigh and turned to look at me. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little bit obnoxious?”

I let out a snort quickly--not at his question, but at the fact that he thought it’d insult me.

[kdreamscenario]

The Boss’ Girl Ch. 11

Lee Minwoo (Shinhwa) X Reader X Jeon Jungkook (BTS)

Office!AU

Rated: M sub!Jungkook, switch!reader, dom!Minwoo 

Word Count: 6955 Ch.10

Jungkook puts your stamina boosting advice to good use.  When he’s got the time he edges himself nearly to tears.  At first he tried not to reimagine you touching him.  The humiliation of that day is still bitter and raw but apparently in the best way possible.  It didn’t take long until he accepted the kink and caved.  He can admit he’d let you do that to him again and again.  

The little make out sessions he has with Mina go farther and farther.  He can tell she’s less endeared by his holding off.  If he wasn’t such a perfect boyfriend besides that she would’ve dumped him.  It doesn’t help that he often has dreams about you or Mina.  One particularly disturbing dream of you treating him like an actual baby he would like to wipe clear from his memory forever.

He hopes that finally sleeping with Mina will let him forget you and this whole mess.  Once Mina finally gets a taste of Jungkook in bed she is insatiable.  He was right about learning fast.  He also tries incredibly hard to please and perform at his absolute best.  Pair that with his charming good looks and his perfect chiseled body, there’s no comparing to anyone Mina had been with previously.  

She’s extremely vocal about this at every girls night.  All the other girls are understandably jealous.  Frankly you’re getting annoyed with her repetitive bragging.  It’s not tactful to tell your sex life so openly.  You can’t imagine Jungkook would be appreciative of her airing their private business to anyone who will listen.  

When the next Friday comes you consider just going home and waiting for Minwoo to call you.  He has a business dinner to attend and expects to be out quite late.  They’re a long time partner of the company.  It’s been a long week and you do need a drink but having to listen to Mina constantly slip in comments about Jungkook is really getting on your nerves.  

The office is set up perfectly for Monday morning and you’re picking up your bag to leave.  You check your phone one last time to see if anyone else happened to cancel on going out so you wouldn’t be the only one.  To you delight, Mina left a message saying she’s headed home.  She says she’s been having bad cramps all day and wants to go lie down.  Not to be mean but that instantly brightens your mood.  It’s very likely she would have Jungkook stay at home with her to treat her like a princess.  You could finally enjoy a night out with no problems.

The ding of the elevator doors opening dampens your celebration.  It’s completely put out when Jungkook walks into the room.  “Jungkook what are you doing here?”  You snap a little meaner than you meant to be.  He stops and looks surprised by your tone.  “Am I not supposed to be here?”  He asks looking around at the empty room.  “No. Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that way.  I just got a message that Mina isn’t feeling well.  I expected you would be with her.”  

Jungkook smiles now that he knows you’re not mad.  “Yeah.  She said she wanted to rest by herself and would probably sleep early.”  You figure Mina likely started her period.  Knowing her, she wouldn’t want Jungkook to see her in comfy old clothes, eating way too much chocolate, and lounging around with a heating pad.  Girls in early relationships have an image to uphold.  

“So why are you here then?”  You ask in a nicer tone.  Jungkook rubs the back of his neck.  “Well I’m going out to the bar again with the other interns.  I figured you’re also going out with the secretaries.  I thought it would be nice of me to walk you there so you weren’t alone.”  You can’t help but smile.  He’s really such a sweet guy.  

“Thank you Jungkook.  I appreciate the offer.  Though I worry what others will think to see you with me the first time you’re not with Mina.”  You say this casting a glance at the security camera wondering if Minwoo is watching you now.  Jungkook’s smile drops.  “Oh.  I hadn’t really thought about that.”  He replies sadly.  “I’m sure you didn’t.  Unfortunately it’s something you need to always think about in this office.”  You add annoyed.  

“I could at least ride the elevator down with you?  I’ll get off on the fourth floor and catch up with Namjoon.”  Jungkook suggests.  That sounds harmless enough.  It’s very unlikely anyone would get on at any of the floors in between.  “Sure.  We could do that.”  You nod and walk toward the elevator.  Jungkook follows quickly behind.  

Once the metal doors close with the two of you inside, Jungkook clears his throat.  “Can I ask you something?”  He asks nervously.  You look at him eyebrows raised.  “I suppose.”  “Does Mina talk a lot about our personal life to you ladies?”  “Yes she does. Unbearably often and in great detail.”  You answer frankly.  Jungkook blushes.  He’s not sure if he wants to ask just how much you know.  

“Do you not like that she talks about it?”  You’re genuinely concerned.  Jungkook hums and takes a minute to think.  “I guess I don’t mind?  A lot of the other guys started cheering me right after it first happened and I was wondering how they found out.  They don’t really tease me much anymore now so it’s fine.”  That answer doesn’t sound very convincing to you.  “If you don’t like her talking about it then say something to her.  Honestly, please say something to her.  We’re all getting a little tired of hearing about it.”  

The elevator stops at the fourth floor as you finish saying this.  Jungkook nods.  “Thanks for the advice.  See you at the bar.”  He smiles and steps out of the opening doors.  You hope he does say something and your Friday nights can go back to normal.  

The bar was really just what you needed.  The interns, secretaries, and a few others all sit together at a few big tables.  There’s lots of good junk food shared around, pleasant conversation, and plenty of drinks.  Jungkook sits almost on the other side of the room from you and barely looks in your direction.  You almost forget he’s there all together.  Mostly you drink your wine and soak in the atmosphere.  

By your third glass it’s nearing 10pm.  Minwoo sent you a message a few minutes ago saying he’d likely be out at least another hour.  Everyone else has started to suggest heading home or going out to another place.  There’s the risk of falling asleep, but going home to wait for Minwoo is the best option to you.  Maybe you could get a head start on the fun and be ready with something special.  

With there being more than just the girls together there wasn’t much gossip or stories to tell so you all paid your own bills.  Most of your group is all piled outside at the same time.  The sidewalk is a bit crowded before you’re all parting different ways.  You’re close to the curb to hail a cab after you’ve said goodbye to everyone.  

Two overly drunk guys trying to pass through your group end up knocking into someone.  It causes a chain reaction of people getting pushed.  You get pushed in the end.  When you step you have nowhere to go but over the edge of the curb.  Yoona and Sooji manage to grab you before you end up falling face first into the street, but you end up awkwardly turning your ankle.  When they pull you back you yelp out in pain stepping with the twisted ankle.  

Everyone nearby who saw what happened or heard your shout start asking if you’re okay and what happened.  Yoona and a lot of the guys are arguing with the drunkards.  You lean most of your weight on Sooji and hold up your hurt leg.  You try but you can’t put any weight on it.  Namjoon kneels down and takes a look at it.  He gently pushes down around the area making you hiss in pain.  

“Good news is I don’t think anything’s broken but I’m sure it will be a pretty bad sprain.  Do you want us to take you to the hospital?”  Namjoon tells you straightening back up.  You shake your head.  You really don’t want to deal with the hospital right now.  “No.  It’s late and I know how to treat a sprain.  I can see my doctor in the morning for it.”  “Alright.  Well let’s get you a cab then.”  Namjoon calls for a taxi to come.  

“Can you put any weight on it?”  JaeHee asks you.  You try to take a step even with Sooji helping you but even setting your foot down hurts.  “I don’t know if any of us can carry you.”  Yoona says.  Jungkook steps in then waiting for a way he could help.  “I’m sure I could carry her.”  He states gesturing to take Sooji’s place as your crutch.  

You’re passed off and Jungkook carefully picks you up bridal style.  “Oh, wow.”  One of the girls audibly swoons.  You’re just as surprised.  He’s not even straining at all to hold you up.  “Jungkook you don’t mind taking her home for us?”  Namjoon asks.  “Of course not.”  The younger answers.  You’re just glad no one is teasing or making jabs about him taking you home.  

The taxi arrives not too much later.  You both say your goodbyes and promises to update when you’ve arrived safely.  Jungkook gently sets you in the seat and jogs around to the other side.  He asks you if you’re comfortable enough right away.  There’s not much you can do about the cramped back seat of car beside take off your high heel.  Besides giving directions to the driver the ride is quiet.  You have to heavily insist on paying for the ride against Jungkook’s insisting.  

He carries you into your building.  While he steadily holds you in the elevator you both pointedly avoid making any eye contact.  You’re definitely not thinking about how strong and solid he feels.  The last time you felt his toned chest was the awkwardly intimate moment with the vibrator.  Both of you are pointedly trying not to think about that.  

Jungkook has no problem getting the two of you through your door, kicking off his shoes and setting you down on your couch.  He’s amazed at how spacious and neat your apartment is.  It’s obviously an expensive place.  “Wow.  Your place is really nice.”  He comments looking around.  “Thanks.  Can you put these over there for me?”  You ask holding out your shoes.  

He takes them over and puts them in the empty spot on your shoe rack and brings over your slippers.  “This is embarrassing to ask but could you help me over to the bathroom?”  “Sure!”  He picks you right back up and carries you over to the bathroom.  It’s a little difficult to do without hurting yourself but you manage to use the restroom.  There’s no way you’re getting your stockings back on so they get kicked over to your laundry basket.

You open the door but Jungkook’s not there.  “Jungkook?”  You call out for him.  He comes over in an instant and picks you right back up.  He carries you over to the couch again and settles you among the cushions.  “You should keep your foot elevated for a little while.”  He helps you put a pillow under your legs.  “I hope you don’t mind me going into your fridge.” He says pulling a bag of ice wrapped in a towel off your coffee table.  

“No, thank you so much Jungkook.  You’re doing so much.”  The ice feels so nice on the already swollen joint.  “I got you some water too if you want.”  He says holding out the glass.  You take it gratefully.  “Wow what service.  Mina might actually be lucky to have you.”  You regret saying that when you see Jungkook’s stunned reaction.  You look away from him and drink your water.  

Jungkook asks you if he could use your bathroom.  That gives you time to check your phone and settle in.  Minwoo hasn’t said anything since his last text.  It’s now around 10:40 and you figure he’ll likely be done around 11.  You send him a text to let him know you got hurt.  He’ll likely come home as soon as he reads it and come to take care of you.

Jungkook comes back and goes right down to the end of your couch by your feet.  He lifts the ice bag and sets it on the coffee table.  He gently presses around the swollen tissue.  You pull your foot back in pain.  “Sorry I just want to check again to be sure nothing’s torn or broken.”  You let him take back your leg and examine the painful area.  “I don’t think it’s anything serious but you should go to the doctor tomorrow.”  

He moves his hands up higher to massage the upper part of your ankle into your calf.  You stop flinching in pain and enjoy the good feeling.  Jungkook takes his time rubbing the muscles.  He carefully passes over your sprain and starts massaging your foot.  You hum in enjoyment.  It’s the worst possible moment for him to remember this is the same foot you got him off with.  He tries to put his thoughts into just the massage but it’s difficult when you close your eyes and moan softly.  

He takes one hand away from the massage to adjust himself in his pants while you have your eyes closed.  The movement makes you open your eyes and you catch him.  He stops when you do, so embarrassed at being caught.  “You really must have a foot fetish.”  You tease.  Jungkook goes red to the ears.  “No! Of course I don’t.  That’s so gross.”  He whines.  You laugh.  “What’s got you all excited then?  Still can’t massage a girl without getting hard?  Thought you’d be a little better about that by now.”  

Jungkook stops touching you all together and stands up.  “Sorry.  I forgot we established it as a noona kink and maybe some masochism.  But there’s no way you actually enjoyed that or want to go through the humiliation again.”  You ask seriously.  Jungkook steps closer and looks you right in the eyes.  “It’s nothing like that at all okay?  Isn’t this how any normal man reacts to being alone with a woman he’s attracted to?  You want me to act like a stone with you moaning like that?  After the things we’ve done before?”  

You’re surprised by his outburst.  He’s never talked back like this before.  The intensity burning in his gaze is unfairly hot.  For once he doesn’t look like such an innocent sweet boy.  He looks like a man and that’s just not right.  He’s not allowed to look that way.  

“I’m sorry for offending you Jungkook-ie.  I was only teasing.  No need to get all worked up.”  You break the eye contact and sip your water.  Jungkook clicks his tongue in annoyance.  He knows you’re doing this to get a rise out of him.  You’ve always got the upper hand on him.  The way you called him Jungkook-ie in that mocking tone should annoy him the most but of course he loves it.  

“Whatever.  I just wish you wouldn’t treat me like some little kid.  I’m a normal adult.  Sorry I’m not up to your standards.”  Jungkook huffs.  “Cumming in your pants like a teenager sure doesn’t help your case much.”  You know you’re plucking at sensitive strings but you can’t help yourself.      

Jungkook can't believe you brought that up.  Being a little tipsy in the comfort of your home has changed you.  You're smiling and teasing him so much.  Jungkook laughs and shakes his head.  “I've had a lot of practice since then, Noona.”   He purposely stresses the title.  “I've heard plenty about your practice.  Sounds like you had a lot of self practice before you got the real thing.”  

Jungkook can feel his ears warming but manages to keep his eye contact.  “Yes.  I put your advice to good use.  I told you I'm a fast learner.”  

“Well practice makes perfect.  Why don't you be a good boy and show me what you practiced.”  You smile and set down your glass.  Jungkook's brain short circuits.  He must have imagined you saying that.

“Show- show you how I built my stamina?”  He asks to be sure that's what you really want.  “Yes.  I want to see for myself how much you've improved.  The teacher should grade the student.”  

Jungkook stands there like a statue.  What exactly do you want him to do?  Should he drop his pants and start jacking off like that?  Do you want to be touched at all?

You giggle watching the boy panic.  “Poor Jungkook-ie.  You need me to give you all the directions again?  Why don't you start by getting into position for me? Come here and kneel on the rug by me.”  You point at the spot just by your elbow.  

Goodness knows why but, Jungkook obeys quickly.  He knows he's going to regret this later.  You reach your hand out and place it gently on his chest.  All the alarm bells going off in his brain quiet once you're touching him.  You run the back of your fingers up the center of his chest and stop at the top button.  The button pops open with a practiced flick of your fingers.  

"Tell me.  Do you watch porn when you practice?"  You ask.  "No!" Jungkook whines.  You smirk.  "Then what do you think about?"  His cheeks flush a little and he looks down to your hand smoothing down further.  The second button goes just as easily.  "I bet you thought about me didn't you? It's written all over your face.  You could have easily thought of your girlfriends naked body but, you thought of me fully clothed getting you off in your pants."  Jungkook blushes up to his ears.  

"Be a dear and hand me that book will you?"  The question is so jarring.  Jungkook looks up and has to process what you asked.  You're pointing to an old-looking leather bound book on the coffee table.  "That one there."  

Jungkook turns and hands it to you.  He notices that something feels off about it.  It doesn't feel solid and heavy like a book that thick should.  You set it in your lap and look back to him.  "Now be a good boy and take your bottoms off for me."  

Jungkook feels a second round of whiplash.  He doesn't move, only opens his mouth to ask about the book.  "What's wrong?  Got stage fright?"  You tease.  "No, just wh-"  "Then do as your told." You interrupt and look at him pointedly.  

The boy swallows and starts to undo his belt.  He gets everything undone and realises there's no way he can get them off in this position.  "Am I allowed to stand, your highness?"  He quips.  You narrow your eyes.  "Don't you talk to me that way.  You know how to address me properly."

If you didn't look so serious he would think you were teasing.  He's ashamed to say he's a little frightened you'll tell him to leave.  He's so weak for you.  "Sorry Noona.  May I stand?"  Your face stays cold and serious.  "No.  For punishment you can just pull them down as far as they go and be uncomfortable."  

He quickly follows your instructions.  Pushes his pants and boxers down to his knees.  It's just enough for his cock to be freed.  Seeing it bare puts your earlier suspicions to rest. He's very well endowed.  "Go ahead and show me your improvement."  

The start is awkward for Jungkook.  Sure he's kind of hard but how's he supposed to get in the mood with you just sitting there staring at him?  He starts by running a shaking hand over his whole length then going into some light strokes.  Once he starts a bit of a rhythm you reach for the book.  With a pull on the sewn in bookmark the cover pops up a little.  You open the lid and Jungkook now understands that it's a hollow book for storing things.  

His curiosity gets the best of him and his hand has stopped.  You give him a pointed look.  "Nevermind what I'm doing.  You just keep going."  You stare at him until he gets back into his slow steady rhythm.   There’s no pleasure in his touch now.  Not when you’re watching him so intently and he’s so curious about what’s in the book.  

Once you’re pleased enough with his actions you focus back on the book.  “Since you thought about me while you practice, why don’t I give you something similar to look at.”  Jungkook furrows his brow in confusion until you open the book.  You pull out a massage wand just big enough to fit diagonally in the box.  Beside it are a small stack of condoms and some lube.  

The boys eyes go wide and his hand stops again.  You tisk at this.  “You’re really bad at listening today aren’t you?”  Jungkook swallows hard but is still entranced by the toy in your hand.  “I think you need a little punishment.  Here put this on so you don’t make a mess.”  With your other hand you toss a condom at his chest.  

Jungkook tries to keep his hands from shaking as he fiddles with the little foil and rolls the rubber on.  “Now I expect you to keep stroking yourself no matter what, until I tell you to stop or I’ll really have to punish you.”  

The extra glide from the lubed surface of the condom finally makes this start to feel good for Jungkook.  His brain goes on a tangent of how this could be a punishment.  Where would you have let him finish before this?  That train of thought is wiped as soon as the buzz from your toy starts up.  It startles him a bit.  His gaze snaps back to you.  

At first you’re just holding the toy up, judging Jungkook’s initial reaction.  His hand doesn’t stop this time so you get yourself comfortable.  You bring the wand up to your neck and shoulders, using it for it’s more innocent purpose.  You take your time giving your tense muscles a little massage.  

Jungkook’s brain overthinks this too.  Maybe you really do just use this as a body massager.  Maybe his dirty mind automatically assumed it was for something else.  No.  Given the circumstances he’s sure it must be for other pleasures as well.  You’re just teasing him as well.  “I know how excited you get from massaging me.  Does watching me do it give the same effect?”  You tease.  Yeah he’s sure you’re messing with him.  

“I’d rather be giving it to you.”  He quips.  You smirk, pleased he can still play along.  “Too bad you don’t deserve to.  Your hands are quite talented.”  From the corner of your eye you notice the stutter in Jungkook’s stroke.  “I’ll just have to please myself until you learn some control.”  

Without breaking eye contact you move the massager down to your breasts.  You can barely feel it through your shirt and bra but it still feels nice.  Jungkook’s eyes glance at your chest and come right back to your face.  You smile.  “You can look.  That’s what I’m doing it for.  I’m trying to make your practice as accurate as possible.”  He looks back and forth between your breasts and your face before settling on the toy.  He wishes he could see your breasts bare and jiggling from the vibrations.  His cock twitches just from the thought.  

You would love to take off your bra and get the full effect but that would be too much of a treat for the boy who doesn’t deserve it.  Instead you turn the wand up one setting and take your time pressing it into any sore spots.  You spend extra time on your nipples, feeling them peak into your bra.  Jungkook won’t be able to see it through your clothes but, he does a fine job imagining it.

Once your breasts are nicely stimulated it’s time to move on.  Jungkook watches intently as you move it down.  You stop and rub it over the inside of your thighs.  Goosebumps rise from how it tickles you.  It takes a bit of readjusting but you keep moving down to massage your sore ankle.  Jungkook doesn’t realize he huffs out a breath until you give him a questioning look.  

After making sure that he’s still moving his hand you smirk and get back to your massage.  The massager bumps a little too strong into the painful area.  You wince and move it away quickly.  “Careful, Noona.”  Jungkook says softly, still not stopping his strokes.  He’s looking much less fazed.  That’s your cue to move on.  

You bring the toy back up between your thighs and right to your center.  There’s not much feeling through your tight skirt and underwear.  You can just barely get it over the top of your slit.  That’s just not going to do.  You press your hardest for a minute or so, more to tease Jungkook.  You give him a quick glance to make sure he’s watching you. His eyes are glued to the toy.  

He gives the smallest whine when you click off the massager and set it down beside you.  “Don’t you worry baby.”  You chuckle. He’d be more upset at your teasing if he weren’t so drawn in by your fingertips pulling up the hem of your skirt.  You stop just before the end of your butt and bring your hands under the fabric.  With a little wiggling you adjust your panties to be more flush with your clit.  

It’s not what Jungkook was hoping for, but once you turn the toy back on and tuck it underneath your skirt, he drops his disappointment.  You hum at finally getting the vibrations right where you want them.  One hand holds the toy handle and the other keeps your skirt in place.  

You let your head fall back on the pillow behind you and close your eyes.  It lets you concentrate on the feelings and sounds.  You keep your ears perked to Jungkook’s sounds.  His slightly uneven breathing, the slick slide of his hand over the rubber in an even rhythm, and the slight hum of your toy.  They make it easy to lose yourself in the moment.

Jungkook doesn’t have to know that you’re imagining him using a vibe on himself.  You’ll definitely have to add that when he gets better stamina.  Well that is if you continue to do this, but you won’t.  You can only imagine what you’d do to him if this became a regular thing but it won’t, it can’t.  The wrongness of these encounters turns you on much more than it should.  It’s dangerous how easily this man breaks your resolve.  

Your clit throbs and without thinking you let out a small moan.  Jungkook sucks in a breath and moans with you.  Ready to scold him, you open your eyes to look at him.  You’re caught off guard but how hot he looks.  He’s flicking his wrist in earnest, the veins in his forearm standing out against his skin.  Even his biceps are stretching the rolled up sleeves of his button down.  What really throws you off is his intense stare.  Knowing that he’s watching your face makes your cheeks redden.  It’s difficult but you manage to keep eye contact with him.  

“Are you close?”  You try to keep your voice strong.  “I could be.  What about you?”  Jungkook answers nearly as straight.  You click your tongue at his attitude.  “I could be.”  You throw right back at him.  “Noona, let me fuck you.  It would be so much better for both of us.”  Jungkook offers all too easily.  You hate the shiver you get.  It’s an incredibly tempting offer but that’s a line you do not want to cross with him.  “I don’t think you deserve to touch me.  Besides that’s not what this training is about.”  You reply.  “Isn’t it though?  I thought the final point was that I could please a girl before finishing myself?”  He argues.  You hate that he makes a good point.  “Such a brat.  You definitely don’t deserve it.  Just for that I want you to go faster.  I think you’ve been holding back a little too much.”  You command.  

Jungkook wants to fight back but he knows he can’t.  You’ll send him home still hard without feeling a bit of remorse.  He obeys and moves his hand faster.  A groan slips past his lips when you follow along and click the massager up one level.  You move it down over your entrance a bit feeling how wet you’ve gotten.  It brings up how empty you feel.  It would be perfect if you had another toy to fill you up.  Too bad you’ll have to do for now with bringing the vibe back to your clit.  The increased speed brings you close much faster.  You can tell it’s got the same effect on Jungkook.  His breathing is heavy and stuttering.  Every so often his strokes lose rhythm and he’s fighting not to moan or stop.  He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and furrows his brow.  

“Don’t bite your lip.  I want to hear you.”  You tell him.  He releases his lip with a soft moan.  He’s afraid he’ll be crossing a line but this may be a chance to push you over the edge.  “Fuck, Noona.  I’m so close.  You look so hot.  I bet you’re so wet right now.  Wish I could feel you.”   Jungkook moans.  His plan works.  His words push you right before your peak.  You hold long enough to let him off.  “You bad boy.  I’m close.  Go ahead and finish with me.”  You pant out and let yourself go.  That familiar wave of warmth washes over you, enhanced greatly by the long moans Jungkook lets out as he spills into the condom.  

The both of you take your time to come down from your highs.  Out of spite and embarrassment you turn your arm to push the massager right to the sensitive tip of Jungkook’s cock.  He shouts and tries to roll his hips away.  “Sit still.”  You scold.  It’s difficult but he holds his cock up to the toy.  He’s never felt anything like it.  In no time he feels a second wave of cum spurting out in the longest orgasm he’s ever had.  You’d really planned to push him through overstimulation to a second orgasm but the sound of your phone ringing surprises you both.  

Instantly you click off the toy and grab the device.  You look at the screen briefly before answering.  “Hello?”  “Y/N dear did I wake you?”  Minwoo’s voice comes over the line.  “No I’m still awake.”  You answer and look at Jungkook.  He’s still panting but sits pretty in position.  “Good.  Are you okay?  Do you need my help? I’m almost home.”  “Yes.  I’d like some help getting ready for bed if you don’t mind.”  Jungkook’s eyes widen in disbelief.  There’s no way you just told Minwoo to come over.  He starts to shift his weight to stand but you throw him a stern look and point for him to stay still.  He must be crazy to obey.  “Sure darling.  I’ll be there in about 10 minutes.”  Minwoo replies.  “Sounds good.  See you soon.”  With that you both hang up.  

“Sorry but it’s time to say goodnight.  Go ahead and get yourself cleaned up.”  You tell Jungkook.  He sits there for a moment just in shock still of how you can break this off so easily.  If he weren’t terrified of his boss finding him here like this he might have stayed and given you a piece of his mind.  Or at least that’s what he tells himself.  He feels pathetic, slowly getting to his feet, pulling off the filled condom, and wrapping it in a few tissues from the coffee table.  He quickly gets himself cleaned up and redressed.  

“You did pretty good.  I can tell you’ve practiced.  Keep it up.”  Your praise is annoyingly good to hear.  He doesn’t bother to acknowledge it.  He only double checks his pockets for his phone and wallet.  “See you Monday, Secretary.  I hope you heal quickly.”  He bows coldly and lets himself out.  You think to yourself that this is exactly why you can keep playing with the boy.  He’s smart enough to know his place.  So many others would have tried to stay and fight about this or purposely waited for Minwoo to make an argument.

Not long after your doorbell rings and Minwoo is putting in the code to open your door.  He kicks off his shoes and comes right over to you.  “Hello pretty.  Doing okay?  What happened?”  He shuffles the ice pack that you had tossed back on.  “I’ll be fine.  Just some stupid drunk pushed me off the side walk and made me twist my ankle.”  Minwoo gently brushes over the still swollen skin.  

“How did you get home?”  “Jeon Jungkook carried me here.”  Minwoo looks at you with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.  “Oh he did?  That was very kind of him.  I really owe him a dinner now.”  You hum.  “I suppose so.  The others offered him up since he’s the only one who could carry me so far.”  

“Still it was such a gentlemanly thing for him to do.  I’ll have to thank him for taking care of the most important person in the company.”  You smile and nod in response.  Minwoo could very well be hinting at taking care of you in another way.  “He was very attentive until I sent him home.”    

“Well let’s get you up to the bedroom first.  How does that sound?”  “That would be nice.”  Minwoo has you hold the ice pack.  He comes to the side and puts his arms under you.  In one smooth lift he picks you up to his chest and you wrap your arms around his neck.  You feel much more at home in this pair of strong arms.  The two of you share a smile while he carries you to the bedroom.  

With steady careful moves he sets you on the edge of the bed.  “Let’s get these work clothes off you first.  You start on your blouse and I’ll help you with your skirt.”  He reaches his hands around you to unzip it and you try your best to lift your hips for him to pull it off.  You pull off your blouse and reach around to unhook your bra.  Minwoo starts to slowly pull your panties down your hips but stops when he notices how soaked they are in the center.  The wet fabric sticks completely to your core and he pushes a finger right at your entrance.  You jump in surprise.

“My, my.  What’s got you so wet like this darling?”  He asks running his finger up and down.  “I’m sorry.  I was bad and played with myself while I was waiting for you.”  You answer coyly.  Minwoo usually has no problem with you pleasuring yourself unless he’s specifically told you not to.  He looks you right in the eye as though trying to read if there’s more to it.  “You must’ve been needy if you couldn’t wait for me.”  “To be fair it started as a regular massage for my ankle.”  That makes Minwoo laugh.

“Can’t help yourself can you?  Naughty girl.  Do you think you should get a punishment?”  He asks.  Your eyes widen a little.  There’s that hidden meaning hanging in the air again, like he knows you’ve been bad.  You nod slowly.  “Well since you’ve already had your fun, how about if you let me get off and you don’t.  I think that sounds fair don’t you?”  You pout but still nod.  “Yes, sir.  I think that’s fair.”

Minwoo starts unbuttoning his own shirt quickly and undoing his belt.  “Be a good girl and take those off for me.”  He nods toward the panties still clinging to you.  By the time you’ve carefully got them off he’s already stripped bare.  He comes close and pulls your hips right to the edge of the bed.  

With a gentle touch he lifts both your legs.  “You need to keep your foot elevated.  Can you hold your legs for me?”  You follow his direction, tucking your hands behind your knees to hold them.  His hands run back down the inside of your thighs right to their apex then slip off.  In one swift motion he brings his right hand back up to smack over your clit. You jolt in surprise.

He watches just to be sure you stay in position before swatting his hand at you again.  He gives a few more in quick succession a bit harder than the others.  “Can you hear how wet you still are?”  He asks rubbing his fingers to soothe the sting of the smacks then right down the middle.  “Yes, sir.”  You can clearly hear the wet sounds of his fingers.  

“You’re only wet like this for me, right?”  He asks and immediately pushes two fingers into your entrance.  You moan out a yes.  “That’s right it is.”  Yes is what he wants to hear, but he knows it’s not the truth.  You know he knows.  You’re not sure how, but he does.  So when he pulls his fingers out and gives your clit four more smacks you can’t complain.  You both know you deserve it.  

His touch disappears altogether but is soon replaced.  With it gripped in his hand, he rubs the end of his cock over your slick cunt.  “Be a good girl now and let me take what’s mine.  Don’t you dare cum.”  He commands lowly, teasing at your entrance.  He waits for your reply of ‘yes, sir’ before pushing in.  

He doesn’t give you time to enjoy the first feeling but does start slow.  He takes his time stroking in and out slowly, fully enjoying your heat wrapped around him.  You spread your legs a little wider to make room for him to lean forward.  He breaths over one of your perked nipples but never actually touches.  Only teases the touches your wish you could get.

Gradually he picks up the pace.  He angles the thrust to hit just where it’s best for you every few times on purpose.  Just enough to get you riled up.  His lips ghost higher to just below your ear.  “You’re lucky I’m too tired tonight for toys.  I feel like I ought to leave you strapped to your vibrator for a while.  Not sure why I get the feeling you deserve it.”  He growls.  You’re not sure what to say.  He continues on in your silence.  

“Maybe I’m just paranoid because you were alone again with that young intern?  He’s such a nice young man.  It’s a shame he’s taken such a liking to you.”  You feel like he really means that.  Jungkook is a good worker after all.  “Do you wish this were him fucking you to bed?  Hm?”  “No.  Of course not.  Only you can touch me.  I sent him away.”  You pant.  

Minwoo has it in mind to ask if you sent him away before or after you had your fun with him but he doesn’t.  You could have very easily told him not to come tonight and besides your panties being wet you seemed untouched.  “Yes you did.  Good girl.”  He kisses your neck softly then stands back up straight.

He replaces his hands for your on your legs.  “You can touch yourself if you want as a reward, but you still can’t cum.”  He offers.  It’s a double edged sword.  You know he actually means for you to touch yourself in some way to make this more difficult.  As a middle ground you decide to play with your breasts.  

Minwoo smirks and starts really pounding into in earnest.  He’s hitting your spot more and more often and it’s driving you crazy.  You try to get the most and the least pleasure out of playing with your nipples.  It feels like forever before Minwoo’s thrusts start to falter.  All of a sudden he pulls out completely and jacks himself off to completion all over your stomach.  Your pussy throbs from the loss.  To make it worse, Minwoo leaves the last bit of cum on the tip and rubs it into your clit.  

He watches you squirm and moan.  He’s got you right on the edge and pushing.  Just when you think you might not hold it, he pulls away.  It takes a ton of will power not to close your legs and rub them together.  Your walls are fluttering in anticipation and tears are coming to your eyes in frustration.  By the time you finally start to settle, Minwoo comes to wipe the cooling cum off of your stomach.  

“You did good.”  He kisses your forehead.  It’s a poor consolation but you’re a good girl.  You don’t whine or pout.  You’re getting just what you deserve.  “Let’s get you washed up for bed.  Think you can handle that?”  Minwoo asks getting ready to pick you up from the bed.  “Yeah, especially if you wash me.”  You flutter your lashes at him and he smiles.  “Sure.  I can do that.”

-E.최 

[prorevenge]

The effect of faking an entire science experiment in a competitive science fair: A Case Study.

This happened about a week ago, so this was fairly recent. For background purposes, I am a senior in high school (17-18 years old). One of the classes I’m taking is a scientific research-based class, where you are given 5 months to look at academic research, determine a problem or a potential innovation that hasn’t been explored, and design an experiment based off so. We would carry out the experiment, and present our methods, data, conclusions, and next steps at a regional and state science fair. If our project was good enough, we would qualify for the Intel Science and Engineering Fair (ISEF), which is a massive pre-College scientific research event. If you want to feel completely inferior in your knowledge about anything, that’s the no.1 place to be. All of these science fairs had scholarships, money, and places in ISEF for the taking.

Since the class was the culmination of a 4-year pathway, we had all grew pretty close w/ each other, despite having vastly different friend groups and interests. We held an impromptu Thanksgiving feast, secret Santa, and Valentine’s Day, loosely planned on our own time and money through Snapchat.

By the beginning of March, we’re all starting on putting everything together on a trifold poster. We all spent a decently unhealthy amount of time stressing about our experiments and posters. Coming out of it though, all of our projects looked great, with some of the material and experiments done being absolutely insane. To give a couple of non-identifying examples, one project was about detecting hypercardio myopathy through AI in a portable ultrasound machine, and another one was the about a pH levels and their effect on growth of compounds in tomatoes.

By that mid-March period, we had one person not turn in anything. For reference, we will call her Megan. Megan did not do anything up until the beginning of March, and then she just kinda magically pulled a poster out of her ass. We all just kinda ignored this, and we were mainly focused on getting our speech and presentation down because we were going in front of judges.

Cue the day of the regional science fair, or, basically the culmination of everything we’ve done. We’re all presenting our projects in front of a judge assigned to us. Despite spitting all over the my judge because I can’t do public speaking for my life, I get pretty good marks myself, not enough to be a finalist per se, but nice enough. By the time lunch is completed, 7 projects have been deemed as finalists, one of them being Megan’s. Another girl from our class, who we’ll call Carly, also qualified. Her project was on Metal Nitrates and their effect on powering Nano-Devices. This is where the open secret spills out amongst our group that Megan had faked her data and the consent forms that invoked the use of human subjects. Basically, her project was illegitimate. We decide to let it play out in the hopes that the group of “professional” judges would not seem her project worthy of any awards.

Megan ended up winning a $1,000 scholarship to a local community college, and an all-expenses trip to ISEF. I do not have any clue how she got past the finalist round, but apparently one of the judges said her project was impressively statistically significant. She completely isolated herself from the entire group immediately, preferring to hang out w/ her boyfriend, who helped her fake the project as well. Naturally, considering she stole money and a ISEF trip from Carly, and god knows who else (there were 300 students attending), we were all absolutely pissed (an understatement), and almost stopped mentioning it.

Up until this kid who we’ll call Spencer, created another group chat, adding everyone except for Megan. We were going back and forth for about 3 hours on what to do and how to inform our teacher, who had no clue about the entire situation.

Megan’s downfall was herself. She bragged to her friend, Marissa, about faking the data. The signatures on the consent forms were apparently fake and could be verified as so (this is illegal, so just don’t do it). She had not taken any other notes to illustrate she had actually done the experiment, heck, she hadn’t turned in a single thing related to the project. All it took to unravel the entire thing was for someone to tell our teacher.

And that’s exactly what happened. We had a group of people tell our teacher that next morning. It was either then, or ISEF, where they have an entire day dedicated to project CLEARANCE. I was gone for a tennis tournament that day, but apparently the environment in our class was very tense as everything was starting to unravel.

Cue Monday. I walk in, and it appears Megan is gone that day. Our teacher tells us that Megan was disqualified from all awards, and the ISEF placement was given to Carly. While, we were never given the full details, it appeared that Megan’s Project was deemed illegitimate by the entire Science Dept. and our principals, who looked over both Megan and Carly’s projects and notes.

So I’m now writing this after the state science fair. We had all put the drama behind us, and had a fan-fucking-tastic weekend. I myself got a first-place ribbon and a nice trophy for my own category, along w/ several others for their own categories. We also had someone qualify for a bunch of scholarships and a trip to an environmental conference. A few more got other awards. Overall, a hell of a good experience. We welcome back Megan to class tomorrow. All I’m hoping for is that she learned her lesson, but I’m not gonna bank on it.

(source) (story by pleasethrowmeacase)