#number three that’s gonna be me. next semester. on that stage.

[andromaches-ax]

went to my school’s greek probate show tonight…lots of thoughts happening.

[sprnklersplashes]

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending) 

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black.  She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

[unholyobsessions]

We say we’re friends

Pairing: Julie Molina x Reader

Description: You didn’t like Julie Molina at first, but then you became friends and suddenly you wanted to become more. 

Requested: No

A/N: dedicated to amazingly wonderful @theolivekiddo​ Happy Birthday! I love you and I hope you had the bestest time because you deserve it.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.0K

Masterlist

You meet Julie Molina freshmen year when you are assigned as lab partners. Both of you are extremely annoyed by the teachers decision for the sole reason that Julie wanted to be paired with Flynn and you wanted to be paired with your best friend, Reggie. 

Really, it’s not that bad, and you had never disliked Julie but the situation makes you bitter and all you find yourself doing is sending glares her way. Julie isn’t much different and responds with a roll of her eyes and sometimes a hard kick to your chair. 

You avoid speaking to each other as long as possible, only mumbling a few words of instruction during lab work. Of course, the utter lack of communication leads to your grade plummeting and you assume Julie’s as well. You keep telling yourself that it’s fine, you’ll make it up with tests, but that plan is quickly thrown away when your teacher says that this semester’s grade is going to be largely based on projects. 

You accept the fact the you are going to fail, determined to go the full year without speaking to Julie. 

But then you hear her humming your favorite song. 

You unconsciously start tapping your foot to the beat of the song. Julie’s head snaps toward you but you pay her no mind as you continue to copy your notes. She starts humming louder and your pen joins your foot in tapping. 

By this point, you’re both smiling widely and swaying side to side in makeshift dance moves. Your humming joins hers and her fingers moves against the table, visualizing the piano keys and playing the correct ones. 

Once the song comes to an end, you burst out into a fit of giggles, attracting the attention of the rest of the class. The teacher shushes you which causes you to laugh harder as Julie leans against your shoulder in an effort to catch her breath. 

Flynn and Reggie, who are sitting at opposite ends of the classroom stare wide eyed at each other, neither expecting to see both of you be actually friendly to each other. 

At the end of the lesson you exchange phone numbers and, for the first time all year, you begin to look forward to science. 

Your friendship progresses slowly after that. At first, you and Julie don’t hang out much outside of academic needs. You get together to study and do homework for science class but never for the sole purpose of hanging out. 

One day, you need to borrow her lab notes after missing school the day before, so you approach her lunch table, where Julie sits with Flynn and Alex Mercer everyday. She invites you to sit down, and with your breath caught in your throat, you simply nod your head and take the seat next to her. 

Your friends, Reggie Peters and Luke Patterson, who arrive to lunch five minutes late as usual, freeze at the doorway when they realize you are not sitting at your usual table. Their eyes scan over the crowded cafeteria and once they see you they invite themselves over, sitting down and quickly striking conversation with Alex, who they know from their homeroom. 

It starts to become a weekly occurrence for the three of you to join Julie’s table for lunch. Then it starts happening twice a week, then three, and eventually you stop referring to it as Julie’s table. 

It doesn’t take long for Julie and the Phantoms to be born. After the first time Julie invite all of you to hang out at her place, Reggie and Luke are left starstruck at the amount of instruments around the studio. 

“You play?” You ask, knowing your best friends are be incapable of forming coherent sentence. 

“Yeah. I play the piano, Alex plays the drums, hence the drum set by the corner,” Julie responds. 

You turn to Luke and Reggie, a clear smile on your face. They had always wanted to form a band, but your lack of musical ability left them with no one to form it with. You can see the gears turning in their heads and after a few seconds Luke asks the question. 

“Do you want to form a band?” 

. . .

Their first gig goes amazing and you find yourself staring at Julie. You had seen her perform before, having attended every single one of their practices, but never in front of an audience. She’s electrifying on stage, you quickly realize. Your hearts speeds up every time she makes eye contact with you and as sings her heart out to the lyrics she spent countless nights writing, you wish she was singing to you. 

You snap out of your daze once their set is over and Flynn pulls you backstage where Reggie and Luke squeeze you in a hug. Joyous laughter escapes you lips and you meet Julie’s eyes over Luke’s shoulder. She smiles widely at you and you suddenly can’t breathe. 

I’m screwed, you think.  

. . .

You’re not a subtle person, quite the opposite actually. So it takes about a week for everyone to realize your newfound feelings for Julie. Well everyone except Julie herself. 

Science class is spent staring at her from the corner of your eyes. During lunch you always rush to take the seat next to her and you look for any excuse to grab her hand. Whenever you’re in a bad mood, a smile from Julie will immediately lighten your day and prompt you to walk with a skip in your step. 

The first to approach you about it is Reggie as you are walking out of science. He pulls you away from Julie and into an empty corridor, dragging you away by the wrist. 

With a deep frown you pull your arm from Reggie’s grasp. “What?”

Not wanting to waste any time, he gets right to it. “You have a crush a Julie.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, a known fact of the universe. 

Heat rushes to your face and you struggle to stutter out a response. “Uh-me? No! Why- wait. Why would you-“

“Save it,” He cuts you off. “You’re about as subtle as a moose-“

“A moose?” He raises his hand to silence you and you snap your mouth shut. 

“You need to tell her,” he said in a matter of factly. 

You raise your eyebrows and let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, not gonna happen. I’ll just make things weird. I’m at a good place right now and that is where I need to stay.” 

Reggie’s eyes soften. “Y/n,” He says and you recognize the tone quickly. 

You shake you head. “No. Reginald drop it.” With that said, you turn on your heel, ignoring Reggie’s words of encouragement coming from behind you. 

On the other side of the school, Flynn is having a very similar conversation with Julie. 

“You should just tell them how you feel!” Flynn practically begged her best friend. 

“They don’t like me that way. I’ll just embarrass myself and ruin our friendship. It is better if I just left things as they are.” Julie looks down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. Her eyes spot a bright purple happy face on the edge of her left shoe and smiles, remembering exactly who drew it. 

“Jules,” her friend states softly. Julie looks up reluctantly and meets Flynn’s kind gaze. “You won’t know if you don’t try.”  

The bell rings from above them and Julie breaks eye contact. “I have to go.” Her steps echo loudly in the empty hallway as she hurries off to her last period.

Reggie suddenly appears at Flynn’s side, startling her. “So what’s the plan?”

Flynn releases a loud sigh, the gears turning in her brain. “I think I have an idea.” 

. . .

For Flynn’s plan to be put into motion, they needed to wait for the perfect moment. Your birthday. 

Normally you spent the morning of your birthday with your parents and would later meet up with Reggie and Luke. This year, however, your friends were adamant about throwing you a party. So at about noon, Flynn shows up at your doorstep with the intention of keeping you entertained until the party is set to begin later that day. 

You lean into her happily as she wraps an arm around your shoulder, letting her guide you to the mall in order to find “the perfect outfit.” 

Four hours, two iced coffees, and a lot of stores later, you’re standing in Flynn’s bathroom, changing into your new clothes and running your hands through your hair in attempt to make it look presentable.  

A knock on the door halts your movements and you take a deep breath, opening the door and smiling at Flynn. 

“Y/n you look amazing!” She jumps up and down happily and you smile back, her excitement rubbing off on you. You have no idea what your friends plan so you keep your eyes peeled as Flynn drives you to Julie’s house, where you are able to see different colored lights emitting from the backyard. 

“Woah,” you say under your breath. Flynn sends a quick text to Reggie before guiding you out of the car. As you open the fence to the backyard, you hear the swift playing of piano keys that you instantly recognize as Julie.

Your eyes meet hers from across the yard and for the rest of the song, they stay connected. When asked later on about it, you would be unable to say which song they played. All you can focus on is Julie’s clear and powerful voice singing the lyrics directly to you. Eventually, guitars and drums join the piano playing but to you it’s just background noise. 

The song comes to an end and you realize that you’re not alone. The yard is filled with people from your year and Flynn pushes you through the crowd, everyone calling out greetings and happy birthdays. You respond kindly and excitedly, questioning when your friends had the time to put this together.

Once you reach the front of the make shift stage, which is just a raised platform in front of the studio doors, your eyes meet Julie’s again. Luke starts strumming his acoustic, leaning into his microphone and leading the whole party through his very own rendition of Happy Birthday, that everyone has come to know after years of being in the same school. 

Reggie pulls you to the stage and conveniently placing you next to Julie. She leans forward and grabs your hand, the last words of the song coming out in a whisper. 

“Happy Birthday,” she says, leaning her forehead against your own. 

You smile and your eyes glance down to her lips unconsciously, and you can faintly hear her swallow nervously. You wait a beat and, as if you can read each other’s minds, you both lean in at the same time. Your lips meet in a quick peck both pulling away in shock that it actually happened before leaning back in, more confidently this time. This being both of your first kiss, it’s messy and only slightly awkward, with neither of you knowing exactly what you are doing or if you’re even doing it right. 

And it’s perfect.

When you pull away for the second time there’s a moment of silence before there are cheers all around you. Alex is pulling out his wallet and handing Luke twenty dollars and Reggie and Flynn are jumping up and down together. 

You roll your eyes before looking back at Julie. You build up enough confidence to say what you have been thinking. “I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” you whisper, not wanting anyone besides her to hear. Julie’s answer surprises you more than the kiss itself. 

“Me too.” A small giggle escapes her lips once she says it, and a relived laugh escapes yours. 

“Can we do it again?” You risk asking. She nods before you’re even finished speaking. 

“Please.” With a small smile you place a hand on her cheek and pull her face closer to yours, closing the gap between you once again. 

The cheers ring louder in your ears and as you pull away you can’t help but saying, “Best birthday ever.”

[simply-trash5]

PuppetBoy

Okay Kankuro simps, got some more juice for ya! Seriously this was so fun to write. It is a college AU about Kankuro and a reader. I am pretty proud of it. I would love to write some things for you so PLEASE request. Seriously. I’ll even try smut (I’ve never written it before so we’ll see how it goes). Drop them in the ask box and if you like what you read you should totally tell me because i am a self conscious bean.

What the hell is that noise? You think to yourself as you look around. It sounded terrible. Whatever car was making that noise was definitely on it’s last leg. You nod your head realizing it was the same guy you see everyday parked across from the education building at your college. You could hear loud metal playing from the speakers and the windows shaking as he pulled into the lot. He jumped out,slammed the door and gave the tire a swift kick. Wow he’s kinda cute. He stood almost 6 ft. tall and had on a black hoodie that hung lightly over his brown hair. His black jeans had rips in the knees and you could see he was wearing scuffed black DocMartens. You continued to follow him with your eyes as he passed you walking toward the theatre building. He had an eyebrow ring and gauges. Oh shit, I think he caught me staring. He looked at you, scoffed and kept walking toward the theatre building. Is he a theatre major? You wondered to yourself. Maybe he just has to take a fine art credit. Letting your thoughts wander you pulled the straps on your bookbag tighter and walked to your class in the education building. 

The class seemed to drag on forever, and you knew after that you had to go to your nannying job which would take up most of the evening. You wished that you didn’t have to have a job, but unfortunately scholarships didn’t cover all of your tuition. You grabbed your keys from your pocket and headed toward the parking lot. Climbing into your car you started the engine and began making your way to your job. You loved kids, so nannying was a great gig for you. When you arrived at the home of a doctor in your area you were greeted by a small boy with a large grin. “Ms. Y/N, can we go to the children’s theater today? Mom said we could go if it was okay with you, she even left my booster seat so you can drive!” You giggled and shrunk down to his height. “Well if your mom says it's okay, it's fine by me. Let’s grab your jacket and booster seat and we will leave.” The small child ran into the house. His mother approached you. “Thank you so much for watching Trevor,I know he is a handful but i'm rather fond of him.” You gave her a huge smile and told her that it was no problem and explained that you were going to take him to the children's theatre. She said her goodbyes and you walked into the house to retrieve the boys booster seat so that you all could make the 4:00 production of the Three Little Pigs. 

The little boy sitting in front of you on the floor giggled wildly as a wolf puppet “ran” off stage. You smiled down at him. The curtains closed and the crowd gave them a round of applause. The stage hands and puppeteers began to disassemble the set so that they could get ready for the next show when you saw a familiar face. It's car boy. You smiled in his direction, and didn’t realize you may have looked at him a little too long. “Hey, take a picture, it will last longer.” The mysterious boy gave you an annoyed look and a blush began to creep up your face. He was wearing a tight black tshirt that showed off his muscular arms and his tattoo of a sandtimer on his forearm. “Come on Trevor, lets head home,” you said steering the young boy out of the theatre.

“Oh my god what did you say back?” your friend was screeching on the other side of the phone. “Well, see, I just kinda left.” you explained not wanting to relive the embarrassing moment. “Y/N, you have got to do something tomorrow. You’re going to see him in the parking lot and you don’t want it to be weird.” You were twirling your hair around your finger staring at your phone. “Y/N are you still there?” You snapped back to reality, “yeah, I think I will buy him a cup of coffee. I’m sure he never sleeps like the rest of us. He is a college student.” You both finished your conversation and you got ready for bed. You set your alarm early so that you could go to a coffee shop and grab him a coffee to make up for the awkward run-ins you had the last few days. 

“God its early” you whined to yourself but got ready anyway. You had to make a better impression on puppet boy. You gathered your things and headed out the door and made your way to a local coffee shop. You grabbed your latte and then decided it was best to just give him black coffee. You drove to your college thinking about the handsome stranger all the way there. His brown hair was shaggy and fell right into his eyes, which you melted at the thought of his hair being pushed out of his face. Your mind started to drift to what your next move would be as you pulled into the parking lot. Okay, it's 7:45 he should be here any minute. Shit what should I do? In a moment of extreme confidence you grabbed a pen out of your backpack and messily scribbled your phone number on the side of the paper cup. God I hope this works. You took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. You could hear him coming for at least a mile. Alright Y/N you cannot chicken out now. He rolled in and slammed his car door as he had every morning for the earlier part of the semester. It's now or never, you've got this shit. You beelined toward his car. He realized you were approaching and looked at you with a strange face. You immediately got nervous. You just sat the coffee cup on the hood of his car, turned on your heel, and quickly walked to the education building. “HEY! HEY COME BACK!” You heard him calling after you as you continued on your way to class cursing yourself the entire time.

Buzz

You grabbed your phone from your pocket. An unknown number had sent you a text. “How do I know you didn’t drug this coffee so you can turn my corpse into a puppet?” you laughed at the text and a blush spread over your cheeks. “Now why would I do that?” you replied. You typed “Also that is oddly specific” “What can I say, I like puppets?” The conversation continued for the next few days. You saw him a few times on campus but you never spoke in person. He would send you funny memes and videos at all hours of the night. Apparently puppetboy is a night owl. “Um btw, we’ve been talking for days and I still don’t know your name. What should I call you.” “My name is Kankuro.” “Well Kankuro, my name is Y/N. Its nice to put a name with a face.”

Shit I’m never gonna finish this run. You thought to yourself as you continued to run on the treadmill. You had your headphones in and music blaring. You loved to run and hadn’t been to the gym in a few days due to all of your nannying obligations. Okay, only a half mile more to go, you thought to yourself as you pushed your body to keep running. Out of nowhere you felt a large calloused hand on your shoulder. You snapped your head “Hey listen creep I-” before you knew it you were falling only to be caught by Kankuro. “Y/N you falling for me already?” Kankuro flirted giving you a tight smirk. You were shocked, not only by the fall, but by the arms around you. They were strong and helped steady you with ease. He was wearing a dark grey tank top which showed his muscles and tattoo off wonderfully. His legs were muscular too and looked amazing in the black shorts he was wearing. In his other hand he had a pair of boxing gloves. You began to blush and he realized you were staring at him, imagining what he looked like under that tank top. Your hand crept up to your neck where you fiddled with your necklace. He gave you a small chuckle. “I’ve got to go spar with my buddy, but if you want to you can meet me out front in an hour.” You smiled and shook your head and he turned and walked away. The shorts hugged his bottom perfectly and the tank top showed his shoulder muscles. You could see another tattoo on his back. Was it puppet strings? You pursed your lips and began to blush. I would love to see those strings up close. 

The hour wait seemed like the longest hour of your life. You waited out in front of the gym as he came bounding out the door. He was sweating and his shaggy hair was sticking to his forehead. He walked over to his car and opened the door. It made a horrendous screech as it opened and you stifled a laugh. “Whats so funny princess? Just for that we gotta walk to get food.” You blushed. Did he just call me princess? Why was that so hot? “Come on, I’m starving,” he said and began walking down the sidewalk. You walked hurriedly to match his long strides. Damn my short legs. “So Kankuro, where are we going?” he gave you a crooked grin. “Its a surprise.” You giggled and retorted “well how do I know you’re not trying to get me alone and turn my corpse into a puppet?” He gave you a devilish grin, “Well sweetheart lets find out.” Another pet name. Your face turned bright red and you stared at the sidewalk. You approach a deli that you frequent with your friends. “I love this place,” you exclaimed. “Well don’t be weird and actually order some food. I like a girl with an appetite.” You laughed and smiled. You ordered your usual and he ordered grabbing your food and heading outside to a table. You both began eating and chatting casually about your lives. You found out he loves horror movies, especially ones that feature creepy dolls or puppets. You also learned that he has a lot of horror memorabilia in his apartment and that he rarely sleeps. He boxes to keep himself busy when hes not working as a children’s puppeteer. He is studying theatre with concentrations in stage management and special effects makeup. “Kankuro, thats really fucking cool,” you said and began to tell him about yourself. You were studying to be a teacher and nannying as a job to make money for college. You lived in an apartment around the corner from the deli with a friend. “So Kankuro I noticed the sand timer on your arm, do you have any other tattoos?” He gave you another devilish grin.”Yeah I have a back piece that is marionette strings. I’ve loved puppets since I was little so I thought it would be cool. Do you have any tattoos?” You blushed. You stood and pulled up your athletic top to show a tattoo of your family's crest on your hip. You had to pull your shorts down ever so slightly revealing your black lacy underwear. He looked at the tattoo and then back to your face. “Thats a nice one,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck. The conversation continued and you all talked more about your semester and your family. You laughed and told him about how you liked to run and also about how you thought it was cool he was a boxer. “Maybe one day we can spar angel,” he flashed a smile in your direction and you smiled back at the thought. You both got up from the table and threw your trash away. It was dark and cool. You pulled your jacked tighter around your shoulders. “I guess I am going to walk home and let you get back to the gym.” Kankuro shook his head “absolutely not doll, its dark and I’m walking you home.” You blushed. Another pet name, this boy is gonna be the death of me. 

You began walking toward your apartment and your hands brushed several times by accident. “Damn Y/N if you wanted to hold my hand that bad all you had to do was ask. I aim to please.” You blushed and then punched Kankuro. “Still want to spar?” you said cheekily. You both walked in silence but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if you had known him your whole life. The comfort of him walking beside you felt so nice. “Well this is my apartment.” You sighed and reached for the door. 

BAM

The door slammed shut and you noticed a strong arm beside your face. Kankuro looked down at your lips and smirked. You began to blush. The tension was so thick. I swear im going to pass out. Your heart began racing as he leaned into you. Your back was pressed against the glass of the door with a strong arm beside your head. His other hand made its way to your tattooed hip, he drew circles over your ink with his calloused thumb. His hands were so large that you could feel his fingertips on your back. The heat rose to your cheeks. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. He pulled back, his hand still burning a hole into your hip bone. You opened your eyes to see a smirked Kankuro. You were in shock when he reached his other hand to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face. Your thoughts raced, you wanted nothing more to bring him up to your apartment and let him give you that devilish grin some more. 

“Guess I’m not a killer princess. Text me.” He chuckled, turned on his heel and walked back toward the gym. You watched him until he walked out of sight. You were ready to see him again and maybe see more of that back tattoo.

[fallinnflower]

(you’re my) home

seungkwan x reader (exes to lovers!au, angst, fluff)

a/n: this took far longer than i thought it would, but i hope i did seungkwan justice! title is taken from the lyrics of “home,” of course~ thanks @wangtuanian​ as always for listening to me when i’m throwing ideas at the wall. in the editing stages this was referred to as “like a slow burn but worse,” so... yeah, happy reading!

wc: 9,086

August 29

“So, you’re saying you want to break up?”

“Well, I mean — yeah. I just don’t think I can do distance. And if we break up while you’re abroad and end up hating each other…”

“It’ll be awkward.”

“Right.”

“Right. Okay. Then let’s break up, Seungkwan.”

December 25

It was only two days after that conversation with Seungkwan that you boarded a plane for Canada. Despite the content of the conversation, your attitudes remained the same — he still tacked a heart onto the last text message you received before your plane rose off the tarmac, and he was still one of the first people you messaged once you had settled into your dorms. Although over the months you fell out of sync and out of contact (at least, in comparison to how you used to be — attached at the hip), you found yourself always thinking of Seungkwan. With your morning coffee, at your evening meal, on a walk to campus; your first love was in everything you did, and it took weeks for you to fall out of the habit of sending him a picture of every little thing that made you think of him. 

When his name popped up on your screen for FaceTime calls, there was still a heart next to his name. Sometimes you almost slipped up and said you loved him when he bid you goodnight, and instead you would settle for ‘sweet dreams,’ tucking yourself into bed and wrapping your arms around a pillow like you used to do him. 

And in December, when you descended the escalators in the bustling airport, there was still one familiar face you found yourself searching for, the same way you’d found yourself asking him for a ride when there were plenty of other friends with cars you could have contacted. Old habits die hard, you know it the moment you see him and your heart still skips a beat, legs itching to run to him, unseen forces drawing you ever nearer to the only boy you’ve ever loved—

You take a deep breath, smile coolly and wave from the bottom of the escalators to get his attention. His eyes light up for a moment when he sees you, then fade back to their usual sparkle, as if seeing you struck his heart like a match. He waits for you to make your way to him, and yet when you stand directly before him neither of you knows where to put your hands, your eyes, your words.

“Hey,” he says, eventually, dark eyes boring into yours. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” After a moment of deliberation, you both find yourself moving towards each other, your hand leaving the handle of your suitcase hesitantly, blood buzzing to be near him.

The sudden sound of the conveyor belt behind Seungkwan startles you both into stillness, and the both of you revert back to your previous positions, maintaining the distance between you.

“Is it, um— are you still using the purple suitcase?” Seungkwan asks, taking your carry-on from you and wheeling it towards the belt. 

“Yeah,” you say. He nods. The two of you stand side by side, eyes glued to the rotating carousel of luggage, waiting for the suitcase you’ve had since high school to come rolling by. The moment it does, Seungkwan lunges forward to grab it, taking hold of both of your suitcases as you follow him out of the terminal to his car.

Without thinking, you snag the aux cord as Seungkwan pulls out of the garage, but falter as you go to plug your phone in.

“Oh, um, did you want to play anything?” You ask, still holding onto the plug. Seungkwan shakes his head too fast,

“No, no, it’s fine. Go ahead.”

Your newest favorite song fills the car, and you shift your gaze out the window. Watching the bustling streets pass you by, you somehow feel foreign. With Seungkwan sitting beside you, fingers nervously drumming on the steering wheel, all you feel is the heavy weight of the silence, a burden you haven’t shouldered since before the two of you started dating. After a few anxious seconds spent at a red light, you find yourself huffing a breath out through your nose and pressing skip on your phone until you get to a song you know Seungkwan knows.

But even with his humming accompanying the tune, the overbearing awkwardness still speaks volumes. 

December 31

“Are you coming to Seungcheol’s party?” Soonyoung asks. You cradle your phone between your shoulder and ear, shoving your freshly washed clothing into the dryer. You hadn’t thought about how much laundry you’d have to do after being gone for a semester, but you’re glad you have the break to do it. 

“I don’t know,” you say. “Should I?” 

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like he isn’t even thinking twice about the one person who gives you pause every second of every minute of every day. 

“We haven’t hung out in forever, Y/N. Come on!”

“Soonyoung…” You shove the dryer door closed and pass your free hand through your hair. “I just— I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“But we’re gonna do the countdown and everything! Josh even promised he’d make us some American food!” 

After a long moment, you let out a sigh.

“Fine.”

“Good! We’ll come get you at 7.”

“We?”

“Bye!”

“Soonyoung—!”

You check the time once you notice he’s hung up, frowning when you realize you only have a little over an hour to get ready but also get your laundry back upstairs before Soonyoung and whoever the hell else comes to drag you to Seungcheol’s.

If you’re honest, you’re not really in the partying spirit. You’re exhausted from cleaning your room and reorganizing all your things, catching up on sleep and readjusting to Korean time. All you want to do is lie around like a rock, but Soonyoung is right — it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your friends. For what it’s worth, you do miss them, but the drive back to your apartment with Seungkwan was a harrowing reminder of the time you’ve been gone and the changes that the passing sands brought. You just aren’t sure you’re ready to face all those changes head-on.

Nonetheless, you don a party-worthy outfit and attempt to put some care into your makeup, though the effort is exhausting enough that by the time you’re done you can’t be bothered to mess around much with your hair. You drag your fingers through it until it looks decent, then shove on a pair of slippers to go get your laundry. As you make your way back up, you think you have half a mind to just wear them to the party — who cares, after all? You’ll probably end up crashing on a couch and getting a ride back from Cheol in the morning. 

Or Seungkwan, a little voice in the back of your mind nags. You kick your apartment door open and then closed behind you, shaking your head to get the thoughts away. It hasn’t even been a week since you’d been home; a week since the evening you forced yourself to change his contact in your phone back to the bland ‘seungkwan’ it had been when you’d first saved his number. Somehow, it’s both too easy and too difficult to think about him; he’s too much and too often in your life and not enough, never enough.

When Soonyoung comes to get you, you realize the ‘we’ he was referring to is just Minghao, Jun, and Chan. You try to convince yourself you aren’t disappointed, but you’ve never been good at lying. Nonetheless, you manage to crack a genuine smile once smushed in the backseat between Jun and Chan, arms and legs all crammed together. As the music rumbles around you and out the cracked-open windows, you promise yourself that tonight, you’re going to have fun. 

By ten minutes to midnight, you’re on your third drink (some fruity, overly sweet concoction courtesy of a tipsy Hansol) and the party is in full swing. Soonyoung has taken charge of the music, all wall-shaking bass and beats that make your body want to move. You’re not much of a dancer, but you’ve got enough alcohol in you that you allow Junhui to pull you into the living room, mimicking his actions and frequently dissolving into fits of laughter when you realize how awkward and gangly your movements are in comparison to the lithe, graceful Chinese boy. Any stumbles simply make you laugh harder, quickly shifting from tipsy territory into drunkenness. The alcohol sloshes around in your half-emptied cup, and you feel suddenly very tired as the current song fades into the next. You make your way to one of the couches, dropping heavily down next to the party’s host and unceremoniously plop your head down on his shoulder. He reaches up to sloppily pat your hair, and you swat the offending strands away from your lips and the places where they stick to the sweat on your face. 

“Yah, Hoshi! Turn the music down, it’s almost midnight!” You cringe at the loudness of Seungcheol’s voice and lift your head from its perch on his shoulder. You run a hand through your hair, smoothing it down. 

“Five!” Joshua calls, emerging from the kitchen with a few of the other partygoers. The TV’s display is now taken up by a large slideshow of numbers. 

“Four!” you yell along with everyone else. Unthinking, your eyes search for the source of one familiar voice—

“Three!”

He’s standing on the opposite side of the room, flanked by Hansol and Seokmin, Soonyoung standing behind the trio with his hands on Hansol’s shoulders, squeezing at each tick of the second hand. Seungkwan’s gaze flits towards you, and for a moment his eyes catch yours and he turns his head. It’s almost purposeful, and you swear you see him turning his body in your direction until Soonyoung yells again, startling both of you. 

“Two!” 

A girl you don’t recognize under the current influence approaches Cheol, pulls him off the couch with a beaming, fond smile. You think you must have seen her before. Or maybe you just recognize that adoring look—

“One!”

It’s rude, you know you shouldn’t stare, but you don’t even realize your eyes are glued to them until the music kicks back up and Seungcheol is pulling away from this girl, only to cradle her in his arms. You press your fingertips to your lips, and suddenly you feel very far away. Just a year ago in this same space you’d stolen Seungkwan’s first kiss of the new year, and now you can’t even get him to properly look in your direction. 

You leave your cup on the coffee table and head for the bathroom, unable to walk straight and yet attempting to remain discreet. 

You don’t feel sick, but you still lower yourself to the ground near the toilet bowl. You close the lid and rest your arms atop it, dropping your face into the pit they create. The fluorescent light above your head buzzes, and the sickly sweet smell of alcohol comes wafting back up into your nose, tears stinging your eyes. 

You tell yourself it’s sweat beading down your cheeks, your chin, falling onto the toilet seat. You tell yourself so even as you watch the mascara-blackened pond grow ever wider within the white plastic valley between your arms. 

Three knocks interrupt the bass dropping out in the living room. 

“Y/N?” A soft voice calls. 

“Hannie?” you reply, voice cracking, breaths heavy. 

“Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“No,” you sniff. You aren’t sure which question you’re answering. There’s a pause, you hear his weight shift momentarily onto one of the creaky floorboards right near the door in the hallway. 

“I’m coming in.” He opens the door just enough for his slender body to slip through, gently lowering himself onto his knees beside you. He reaches over your hunched back to rip a few sheets of toilet paper off the roll, carefully dabbing under your eyes with a corner. You look up to the ceiling as he wipes at the mascara smudged below your lash line. When he throws the paper in the trash, you rock forward, pressing the crown of your head against his collarbone. 

“Tired?” You feel more than hear the words as they rumble up from his chest. You hum in the affirmative, and Jeonghan smooths a hand down along your spine. 

“Okay. Come on. I’ll drive you home.” You realize then that Jeonghan’s breath smells like juice. He helps you up from the floor, your knees aching from the cold tile. He wraps his hand around yours, guiding you as though you’re a child through the crowd, and you find your eyes searching, always searching. 

You catch a glimpse of Seungkwan mid-laugh, eyes shut and head tilted back. Your eyes remain glued to him, and even when he disappears from your field of view the image of him burns behind your eyelids.

“Jeonghan,” you start, watching his hands as he ties his shoes, unable to look away. 

“Hm?”

“Do you think he misses me?” Jeonghan stands up and sighs, running a hand through his hair. Your eyes follow his movement belatedly. He reaches out to smooth your hair down, looking at you with what you think is pity. It feels the same as the way your mother looked at you when you told her Seungkwan ended things. 

“I’m not the person to ask, Y/N. Now, come on.”

“Do you think he still loves me?” you ask as he pulls you out the door by your wrist. “Do you— do you think he ever loved me?” 

You don’t realize you’re crying until Jeonghan sighs your name and pulls the sleeves of his sweater down over his hand, dabbing gently at your cheeks.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” You nod wordlessly, a lump in your throat making it hard to even breathe, let alone tell Jeonghan that home feels far beyond your reach now, just the same as Seungkwan is. That home isn’t home without him, not when you can only fill the lingering dip on the other side of your bed with your spare pillow and dream you hear a heartbeat where you rest your head. 

With that, Jeonghan pulls you out the front door and into the night. If he notices the fresh tear tracks on your cheeks when he sees you to your door, he doesn’t comment on it beyond his lingering hug and the gentle motions of his hand patting down your hair. 

You wipe away your makeup and brush the taste of alcohol off of your teeth, but each time you close your eyes you still see Seungkwan laughing behind your eyes, too far for you to reach.

January 1

More than a physical hangover, you wake up feeling emotionally dehydrated. Beyond that, you just feel plain stupid — you agreed with Seungkwan when he suggested breaking up, so why are you taking this so hard? It’s not even like he was kissing someone else to ring in the new year, you were just getting jealous of the ghost of yourself, a you that you willingly killed off.

There are a few messages waiting for you when you finally manage to reach your phone. One is from Jeonghan urging you to drink plenty of water when you wake up with his usual teasing of your drunkenness, there are a few in the groupchat that are mostly people asking if other partygoers had seen this or that forgotten object, and then beneath all of those is a short thread from Seungkwan. It appears to have come through right after you left the party, and you wish you could say you hesitated before opening it.

< hey, did you leave already? 

< nvm jeonghan said you weren’t feeling well… feel better!

< happy new year, y/n. 

You read the messages over and over, searching for something between the lines. How is it that mere months apart have made Seungkwan into an enigma all over again? You kick your sheets off impatiently and practically jump out of bed, itching to move but with no clear plan in mind. 

Despite the frigid morning air, you find yourself wanting to go out. The streets are nearly deserted, most people sporting hangovers in the comfort of their beds, and you feel drawn to the streets below. 

Your fingers are typing before you really think about what you’re doing.

happy new year! sorry for the late reply. hope you had fun at the party!! >

With the text sent, you shove your phone into your coat pocket and propel yourself out the door, breathing the frosty air in deeply. It’s cold enough that it burns down your throat, but when you exhale you feel cleaner, somehow, than you did before.

One of the many things you missed while studying abroad was your favorite cafe. You’ve been frequenting it since you started attending university, as it’s just around the corner from your complex and on the way to your campus. You wouldn’t say it’s a hole in the wall or hidden gem, because plenty of students frequent it, but it’s generally very laid-back because of its popularity amongst students. The front is all glass, with bar-style seating set up against the windows so you can look out into the sidewalk and dark wood floors that make it feel small in a cozy way. You’ve always been a fan of window seats, so you can look up when an assignment gets to be too much and catch a glimpse of the street, or the sky, and feel a little less overwhelmed and boxed in by life.

You’d taken Seungkwan here on one of your first ‘dates’ — unofficial, back in the early days when you were more acquaintances via mutual friends than friends yourselves, just getting to know each other and toeing the lines of the other’s boundaries. Your relationship blossomed due to a shared class in your major; he needed your help to pass it and you had suggested this cafe as a workspace. You can still remember it, the early-fallen autumn leaves crunching beneath your feet as you walked with him from campus down an already familiar street. Seungkwan had followed you dutifully — he was still so bashful, then, funny but holding himself back from saying too much, looking down more often than he was looking into your eyes. 

You still order the same drink almost every time, something Seungkwan often teased you for once you started dating. The fact that there were all these options and you always chose the same thing, never straying — you simply told him that you knew what you liked, and your obvious flirtation always got a reaction out of him no matter how often you said it. 

The cafe is emptier than usual, so you get your choice of seat; you move immediately to the open barstools with your drink and a muffin for breakfast, settling yourself in to watch the city wake up. You pull your laptop out of your bag, hoping that the familiar space will get you back into the familiar rhythm of work.

Looking up from typing in your password, you let out a scoff. Maybe this place is too familiar, because you swear you see Seungkwan at the crosswalk on the corner, coming this way. How pathetic, really, that you can’t seem to get him out of your mind—

The door opens, a gust of winter wind entering the shop, and as it does you instinctively turn to see who’s entered, heart nearly stopping at the familiar face that greets you.

“Seungkwan,” you say, without really meaning to. You hardly realize you’ve said it aloud until his wide, curious eyes meet yours.

“Y/N!” He chirps, grinning broadly at you. Your heart skips the same beat it always used to, and you can’t help but smile back. The two of you simply continue to stare at each other, wondering what to do about your current situation, and it isn’t until someone slips out the door behind Seungkwan that he finally startles back into action.

“Oh, um — is anyone sitting there?” He asks, nodding towards the barstool beside you. You shake your head, moving your bag off the seat.

“No, feel free.”

“Great, just— I’ll order and be right back,” he says, and you think you must be imagining the slight waver in his voice before he turns towards the counter. You force yourself to turn back to your work as he orders, willing yourself to stop lingering the way you have been for the past twelve hours. After a few minutes, you get so absorbed in your to-do list that you almost forget you have company until you hear the legs of the stool beside you being pulled across the floor, and a glass coming into contact with the counter.

“You still order the same thing?” he asks, a teasing edge to his voice. You take a look at his drink and raise one eyebrow. 

“You’re one to talk,” you reply, “You order that like ninety percent of the time.”

“And the other ten percent of the time, I try new things,” he says, sitting up proudly. You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to your laptop.

“As if anything is new here. We’ve been coming here for, what, two years? You must’ve tried everything on the menu by now.” 

“They have seasonal drinks,” he says, a little less convincingly, bringing his drink up to his lips. You hum noncommittally, unable to keep the smug grin off your face knowing you’ve won this time. Early in the relationship, the two of you had kept score of who got the last word in all your silly non-arguments, usually to determine who was paying for the next date. After a while, the number got too high to keep track of, and you found a better system to pay with. You find that your fingers have come to a standstill hovering over your keyboard, and you reach for your drink in an attempt to return yourself to normalcy. Thankfully, if Seungkwan notices your weird behavior, he doesn’t comment on it.

“So, how was the party after I left? What did I miss?” you ask, keeping your eyes on your screen. You know that if you look too long at Seungkwan it will feel like looking at the sun, and you can’t afford to be blinded right as the semester is beginning. Seungkwan lets out a little groan at your question, leaning heavily onto his elbows.

“Well, other than Mingyu almost ruining the living room carpet because he can’t hold onto a bowl to save his life, nothing.” You can’t help but giggle.

“What was it this time?”

“Salsa,” Seungkwan says, giving you a particularly disbelieving look. For a moment you hold his gaze, trying to mimic it, but it isn’t long before you both burst into laughter. A familiar warmth spreads throughout your whole body, and you feel the tension you’ve been harboring since you boarded the plane back to Korea finally slip off your shoulders. 

“Seungcheol would’ve killed him,” you say, shaking your head as you try to imagine the chaos that would have ensued, but Seungkwan merely purses his lips and takes another sip of his drink before replying.

“No,” he says. “It would’ve been Joshua, Seungcheol was too busy with his new girlfriend.” 

“Oh,” you start, leaning in conspiratorially. “Are they official, now?” Seungkwan lets out another groan, rolling his eyes.

“They would be, if he would actually ask her! He keeps saying he’s too nervous, he’s not sure what she’s going to say, but they’re so obvious about everything.” 

“As expected from Cheol,” you muse, shrugging lightly and sipping on your drink. “Maybe I should have a talk with him.” 

“Maybe we—” By some miracle, you cut yourself off before making your offer. You turn your gaze from Seungkwan so he won’t read the thoughts behind your eyes, stirring the straw in your drink as calmly as you can. 

“Maybe that’ll help. Light a fire under his ass.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan laughs, and you realize with the force of it that he’s already heard the words you didn’t speak, maybe he almost spoke them himself. “Maybe.”

How foolish it would’ve been, you think, how ironic if you’d suggested a double date for Seungcheol when there’s not even a date to invite him to double on. To imply that the two of you would be of any help getting Cheol into a relationship, like you aren’t the poster children for dating disasters right now. Suddenly, the silence of the city irks you, digs under your skin, and all you want is for the espresso machine behind the counter to whir back to life so you have something, anything to distract you. You’ve lost the rhythm with Seungkwan and you know, somehow, as you take a sip of your iced coffee and stare determinedly out the window, you won’t be able to find it again in this conversation. 

A phone buzzes against the countertop. You don’t even bother to turn yours over, as Seungkwan is already picking his up hurriedly. He glanced up at you nervously, free hand already reaching back for his coat where it hangs off the chair. 

“I forgot Hansol wanted to go shopping today,” he explains. You smile coolly, 

“Ah, I see. Don’t let him spend too much.” Seungkwan laughs weakly, watered down as he yanks his coat on in a rush. You remember when every movement was stalled, simply to linger together — 'accidentally' tying a shoelace wrong and undoing the whole thing to tie it all over again, just to hear the other’s teasing remarks for a few more moments before you really have to go — and although the atmosphere was less than comfortable you still feel his absence acutely as he finishes buttoning up his coat. He takes his cup into one hand and pushes the barstool back into place. 

“See you later, Y/N.”

“See you.”

After a few moments, Seungkwan is merely a silhouette in a crowd of others just like him, and you can almost convince yourself you imagined the whole meeting in your head. You glance at your untouched muffin and, after a long moment of losing yourself in your own silence, rip off a large chunk. 

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the sweetness coats your mouth. Your heart aches, hungering for something else which you refuse to name, and you distract yourself with work. 

January 4

Ever since the party, Jeonghan has been checking up on you. Not that he hadn’t before, because he’s always been the mothering type, but his efforts had doubled since you’d had your breakdown. 

The two of you are both particularly avid coffee drinkers, so any time a new cafe is opening you’re often the first in your circle of friends to check it out — the unofficial reviewers. Just such a cafe happened to be opening on the weekend before your classes start up again, and it’s a no-brainer that you’re going.

Saturday rolls around and you make your way to the apartment Jeonghan shares with Seungcheol and Joshua. The way is familiar; before studying abroad you could be found at their apartment almost every weekend, curled up on the couch beside Seungkwan as you all watched some stupid movie. 

Now it’s morning, edging onto the afternoon as you make your way up the stairs of their building. When you knock on the door it’s Seungcheol that greets you, hair still damp from his shower and eyes droopy with sleep. 

“Good morning, Cheol,” you say, ruffling up his hair teasingly. He chuckles and steps aside, shaking his hair out as he lets you into the apartment.

“Jeonghan is still in the shower. Have you had breakfast?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “I’ve been up for hours, unlike all of you.” You shrug your coat off, hanging it by the door as you toe off your shoes. Seungcheol drops himself heavily onto the couch and you follow him, though you sit down less sprawlingly. No sooner do you take a seat than his phone buzzes, and you see his face light up when he reads the notification.

“Is that her?” you ask, shuffling across the couch cushions. “The girl from the party?” Seungcheol’s cheeks redden at such a fast pace that you know you’re right, and you can’t help but laugh. You nudge him with your elbow and then commence poking at his ribs playfully when he lifts his arm in an attempt to push you away.

“Stop,” he whines, trying to push your hands away, but the two of you dissolve into laughter soon enough, flopping back against the cushions. Seungcheol stares wistfully up at the ceiling, letting out a sigh.

“I really like her,” he says, softly. 

“So I’ve heard,” you say. “I hear she likes you, too. Why haven’t you asked her out yet, huh?” Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line and shrugs. You remember that feeling, the constant uncertainty regardless of how much you flirt or how many dates you’ve been on, unofficial or otherwise; the constant nagging feeling and question: do they actually like me? Or is it all in my head?

You pat his shoulder, getting his attention.

“Hey,” you start softly. “Listen, Cheol, you have to take a chance. You’ll regret it if you don’t ask her out. Don’t hold yourself back from happiness, okay? When you overthink things too much, you can end up getting yourself hurt, so just do everyone a favor and stop overthinking this.”

When you finish speaking, you have to clench your jaw tight to keep from getting overly emotional. It’s too much, even though it should have nothing to do with you or Seungkwan, and yet all you can think of is that if the two of you hadn’t thought so far ahead maybe you could still be together. All being cautious had gotten you was heartbreak and an awkward atmosphere you couldn’t shake, never-ending frustration with yourself and everyone around you for no longer knowing how to act or react. 

Before Seungcheol can say anything, or you can start crying, Jeonghan walks into the living area.

“Y/N-ah, you’re early,” he says, walking up behind you and Cheol. He places a hand atop each of your heads and proceeds to ruffle your hair.

“Yah, what is it with you two,” Seungcheol whines, leaning away and swatting Jeonghan’s hand. It only makes him laugh and come around the couch, grabbing at your wrist to pull you off the cushions.

“Come on, let’s go.” You manage to smile at him, though you aren’t sure how. The two of you are barely at the front door before Seungcheol is back on his phone, smiling away.

The two of you are seated at the cafe when you receive the text from Seungcheol that he has a date with the girl on Sunday, and although you manage to smile at the news your coffee and pastries taste far more bitter after that.

January 16

Objectively, of course you should have expected to be invited to Seungkwan’s birthday celebration. After all, your friends are still his friends, so it only makes sense — and yet once you’re actually sitting around the table with everyone in the bar it feels… weird.

Everything looks so similar to last year, except that you’re sitting far away from Seungkwan with Jeonghan by your side. Your ex-boyfriend is lively as ever, having consumed just enough alcohol to make him loud and red in the face, though you know that once this high wears off he’ll go on one of his late night walks to steep in his emotions. In this large a group you had hoped you would feel more comfortable, and yet all you can seem to notice is all the half-pitying looks all your friends keep shooting your way. They look at Seungkwan and then at you and their smiles falter.

You’re the one who leaves first. It’s a Thursday night and you have a morning class; and more than that you just feel awkward. You go to stand outside, even in the bitter cold, because it feels better to actually be alone than to feel isolated at a table full of people. There’s a bench just a ways down, so you take a seat and breathe into your hands to warm them. Still, you don’t want to go home just yet. 

“Y/N.” 

Seungkwan sits down beside you, though his approach is too fast and he ends up sliding along the bench until he knocks pretty forcefully into your side.

“Slow down there,” you laugh, helping him to sit up straight. As you move to take your hands off him, he suddenly takes hold of your fingers, squishing them between his warm palms. He leans in close to you, so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You’re coming to my recital, right? Next week?” You blink at him, feeling intoxicated off his presence alone. Your head seems to be spinning, and you find yourself unable to get a grip on anything. It takes you a moment to respond, but Seungkwan doesn’t seem to notice, still grinning at you with his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. 

“You want me there?” 

He seems to sober up in an instant at that, brows furrowed at your question.

“Of course. I always want you there.” The words make your heart flutter. You only wish he wasn’t drunk. You muster up a smile, though it feels stiff, and nod.

“Then, I’ll be there.” 

Seungkwan doesn’t let go of your hands, not even when all your friends come pouring out of the bar onto the sidewalk, yelling and calling for the two of you. It isn’t until Seokmin and Soonyoung actually come to scoop him off the bench and into a taxi back to their shared apartment that he lets go. He waves at you, beaming as they pile into the back of a cab, and you wave half-heartedly back.

You stay sitting on the bench until you can barely feel your legs, and then you call a cab. In the morning, you almost think the conversation was all a dream — but your calendar now has ‘Seungkwan’s recital’ listed as an event next Friday. You bury your face in your pillow and try not to cry.

January 20

The weekend passes with almost nothing notable happening. Busywork occupies most of your time, falling back into the routine of classes and the structure of having a class schedule. It takes your mind off of the events from Seungkwan’s birthday, but at night, left to your own devices, you find you have trouble sleeping.

Monday rolls around, and you drag yourself out of bed to your first class of the day at nine in the morning. You spend the time between that and lunch in the library, forcing yourself to focus and get work done — you know if you go back to your apartment you won’t be productive in the slightest, so you stick around campus. 

It’s a little past eleven when you decide to go get lunch. You tend to dislike waiting in lines, so you’ve made it a habit over the years to eat a bit earlier whenever possible; luckily for you, your next class is at half-past eleven, so your schedule is pretty accommodating. Since getting back from your semester abroad, you haven’t actively eaten lunch with anyone. After all, the semester has barely started, and some of your friends are still sorting out their schedules.

Also, they all still look at you in pity, or like they’re worried you’re going to do something reckless. You wish they would just ask you about your time abroad, even if it means answering the same stock questions over and over again. Anything is better than being reminded of the loss you still feel so acutely yourself.

You’re searching the cafeteria for a seat, preferably one where you can listen to music and eat in solitude, when two pairs of excitedly waving hands catch your attention. When you look down the arms extended in the air, you find the familiar faces of Seungkwan’s roommates, Seokmin and Soonyoung. Both of them are beaming at you and wave you over to their table. For a moment you hesitate, but you can’t think of a reason not to join them, so you take the empty seat beside Soonyoung and across from Seungkwan. 

The two greet you loudly, as per usual. Seungkwan murmurs a greeting when he swallows his food, then stuffs his mouth full again before you can even respond. As you begin eating your own food, you can't help but wonder what Seungkwan is thinking. It's obvious to you he's nervous, but about what you aren't sure. You have a sinking feeling it's you. Maybe him asking you to come to his recital was just drunken antics after all, since he doesn't seem to want you at his lunch table. 

His own nervousness only makes you more nervous than you had been. It makes you feel like an intruder. While Soonyoung and Seokmin chatter away in their usual excited way, speaking almost nonstop, seemingly oblivious to the wall of silence beside them. One chews while the other replies and so it goes on — Seungkwan pushes his food around a bit awkwardly and you stuff your mouth hurriedly. You can't think of a single thing to contribute to the conversation, only what excuse you're going to use to get out of the situation. Your next class isn't for another fifteen minutes at least, but you're finding you'd rather spend that time in some hallway than at this table where you aren't wanted. 

Between bites you cast glances at Seungkwan, uncertain as to whether you want him to meet your gaze or not. You miss having him look at you, but even if he looks to you now you know it won't be the same. Somehow you're always feeling as awkward as you did at the airport that day. Since the moment you stepped back onto Korean soil, you feel as though you’ve been tripping over every obstacle life has given you in a struggle to catch up with everyone and everything you left behind for that semester. Especially Seungkwan.

It feels like you’ve been doing and saying the wrong things to him ever since you broke up, and distance made your heart grow fonder but it also made you two just different enough to not be able to talk normally now. You wonder, when you look at him, what’s causing the bags under his eyes to darken; what his day-to-day looks like now that you aren’t actively in it… 

As you stuff the last bite of food in your mouth, your phone buzzes. You tear your eyes away from Seungkwan, turning it over to find a message of no significance — just a banner notification for an app. Nonetheless you find yourself pushing out your chair.

“Sorry guys, I have to get going now. Thanks for letting me sit with you.” Soonyoung and Seokmin seem startled to find you still there, having been so caught up in their own discussion. Seungkwan’s gaze flicks up to you, a slight frown curling the corners of his mouth.

“Sure thing, Y/N,” Soonyoung says, nodding his head. 

“We’ll see you Friday?” Seokmin asks hopefully as you lift your tray off the table. You pause, glancing towards Seungkwan only for him to avert his gaze back to his food. Nervously, you chew on your bottom lip for a moment as you nod, thinking of the calendar event on your phone. 

“Yeah,” you reply, softly. “See you Friday.” Unable to bear the awkwardness for a second longer, you turn on your heel and speed walk out of the cafeteria, not slowing down until you reach the building where your next class is. 

For possibly the first and only time in your life, you almost wish Friday wouldn’t come at all.

January 24

For the rest of the week leading up to Seungkwan’s recital, you go back and forth on whether you’re actually going to attend. A part of you thinks that with alcohol came honesty, and he really wants you there — but there’s always that nagging feeling. 

And then Seungcheol turns your own words on you the day of, when you’re at his apartment and talking to Jeonghan while he chooses an outfit about how you aren’t sure you should go. You want to, because you always want to hear Seungkwan sing, but you aren’t sure if it would be right. If you would be welcomed.

Seungcheol walks in, needing help buttoning the cuff of his shirt, and as you do so he looks down at you with a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, and you look up. “Remember that thing you said about overthinking leading to pain?” 

“Yeah.” Seungcheol raises his eyebrows, looking at you pointedly, and you drop your hands into your lap once you’ve finished with the buttons. You avert your gaze, plucking at the fabric of your tights. “Point taken.”

“You should really talk to him about this, Y/N-ah,” Jeonghan says, meeting your gaze through the mirror. You press your lips together, biting at them nervously. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking back at his own reflection.

“Listen, you know I love you,” he continues. “But you can’t go on like this. And, frankly, I don’t know how to help you anymore.”

“I know…”

“He’ll hear you out,” Joshua suddenly chimes in, coming to lean on the doorframe. You frown and shift awkwardly where you’re perched on the edge of Jeonghan’s bed. 

“I know,” you repeat, voice smaller. You can feel your throat closing up, chest tightening and eyes pricking with tears.

“Don’t cry,” Seungcheol says, and suddenly all three men are enveloping you in a hug, making it hard for you to even breathe.

“I love you guys,” you sniffle, “But I’m going to get makeup all over your shirts.” They back off at that.

“So, you’re coming with us?” Joshua asks, as Jeonghan reaches out to fix your hair. You nod.

“You’re right. I told him I’d go, and we do need to talk, so… yeah.” 

You steal the passenger’s seat from Seungcheol so that you get to control the radio, and also because Jeonghan is your designated emotional security friend and even the backseat feels far enough to make you anxious. You’re pretty sure if you weren’t sitting beside him you’d ditch out the car and run back home, because Joshua wouldn’t be quick enough to stop you. For the whole ride you fiddle with the radio, switching the station almost ceaselessly even though the drive is less than twenty minutes. Nothing sounds good to you, everything little more than a constant buzz in your ears as your thoughts continue to run rampant. 

“Y/N,” someone says. It sounds very far away. “Y/N.” The added forcefulness behind the voice finally gets you to snap out of it. The three men are standing outside the car, Seungcheol holding your door open and leaning towards you. All their brows are creased in worry, and you offer a smile which you hope is reassuring but feels shaky even to you.

“Ah,” you say, unbuckling yourself. “Thanks, Cheol.” Once you’re out of the car, however, you all simply stand together, awkwardly clumped by the front of the car. Seungcheol closes the door behind you, and while you look at the auditorium ahead your companions all look at you, still concerned. You take a deep breath in through your nose and blow it out slowly through your mouth. Lifting your chin, you nod.

“Let’s go.”

Your other friends have saved the rest of the front left row for all of you, and so you slip into the seat nearest the aisle you can get in case you have a spontaneous breakdown. The program lists Seungkwan’s solo as the second to last performance out of the dozen in the evening, with the final being a full choir piece. The only person closer to the aisle is Soonyoung, who flashes you a smile when you sit down. 

“Y/N-ah!” He chirps, though attempting to keep his voice low in such a setting. “How have you been? We’ve barely talked you since you got back.” Hoshi’s grin slips into an exaggerated pout, and you let out an apologetic sigh.

“Sorry, Hoshi-ah,” you say, patting his arm. “I’ve… I’ve been better, and I’ve been worse, you know?” Soonyoung peers down at you sympathetically, placing his free hand atop yours and squeezing it in reassurance. You can tell from his gaze that he knows the true reason behind your inability to settle recently, why you’ve been out of the picture for your long-time group of friends. 

“I know,” he replies, voice dropping low. His gaze also falls, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Of course he would know, given his proximity to the situation. You can’t help but wonder just what he’s been seeing, what’s been occurring, on the other side of the situation. You nearly open your mouth to ask just that, heart pounding against your ribs, but the dimming of the lights keeps you silent.

Your hand remains on Soonyoung’s arm until the end of the first song, when you finally relax enough to not need emotional support in the form of physical contact. Seungkwan appears in multiple performances, and you feel refreshed hearing his voice. It feels as though it’s been years since you heard him sing, and you only realize now how much you had taken it for granted in the past. 

Seungkwan’s solo arrives quicker than you had thought, and it leaves you breathless. Even before your semester abroad he had been preparing endlessly, always worrying over every last detail of his performance. You’d bought him a throat soothing tea for his birthday, along with some organic cough drops. His practices had always sounded wonderful to you, but hearing it now, on-stage and polished, it’s possibly the best thing you’ve ever heard. It moves you to tears, though you hold yourself back from crying fully, not wanting to be disruptive to anyone else in the audience. 

By the end of the concert you’ve eased yourself off the brink of tears, though only to find yourself overcome by another emotion entirely: anxiety. Your heartbeat is loud enough to nearly block out the raucous applause as you stand. Soonyoung pats you on the back before resuming his own round of applause. 

All you can think of now that the recital is over is that you should have rehearsed something to say to Seungkwan. Seeing him on stage, practically shining in his brilliance, makes you all the more aware of what a wreck you seem to be. Your hands won’t stop shaking, your breathing shallow. As your friends swarm the edge of the stage, beckoning Seungkwan down into their arms, you find yourself falling back to the edges of the group, wringing your hands. The others are rowdy enough to make up for your absence while you try to arrange your thoughts. 

Caught up in your thoughts, however, you don’t notice Seungkwan’s eyes on you. You don’t notice him approaching, your friends parting ways for him to get to you. Your eyes remain cast down as you turn slightly away, still lacing your fingers together nervously.

“Y/N.” His voice is soft, yet it cuts through the din without obstruction straight to you, piercing your heart like an arrow. As you turn to him it feels as though you’re the only two in the room, Seungkwan’s shining face your only company, the sole captor of your attention.

“Seungkwan,” you say. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t bring you any flowers. Slipped my mind.” You lick your lips nervously, casting your gaze downwards. Meeting Seungkwan’s eyes feels like a Herculean effort — at least, meeting them without crying. 

“You were amazing,” you continue, more softly. “Not that anyone was doubting, of course.” At that you finally manage to smile at him, though it’s uncertain. You can’t contain your pride, even if your relationship isn’t the same as it once was; watching him grow in his talent and confidence has been one of the greatest gifts in your life, you’re certain.

“Thank you. That means a lot.” Seungkwan shifts his weight from one foot to another, “Can we talk?”

“S-sure.”

“Outside?” You can only manage to nod, feeling unable to speak. You follow him down the aisle and out the doors, coming to stand near him by the corner of the building. The sun has set, leaving only the yellowy glow of the streetlights to illuminate Seungkwan’s features, turning his eyes to a warmer, molten brown. For a long moment he just stares at you, seemingly soaking in your presence, and you find your cheeks warming beneath his gaze. When you look away, he finally clears his throat and begins speaking.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. “Again. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.” Your heart skips a beat when you realize that he does remember inviting you here. That he did it on purpose, not just on drunken impulse. The thought alone is enough to make your heart feel unbelievably warm. 

“Of course,” you reply, unable to keep from smiling. “I’m really proud of you, you know?” At your statement Seungkwan, too, starts smiling. It’s a sight you hadn’t realized you missed so acutely, the way his eyes light up as he’s looking at you. Although the atmosphere is still awkward, it feels far more natural than your previous encounters since you’ve been back.

“Right,” Seungkwan seems to snap himself out of it, shaking his head slightly. He rocks back on his heels a bit, a nervous habit. “I, um, I wanted to tell you something. Just… I’m not sure what to say.”

“The Boo Seungkwan, at a loss for words? I’m shocked.” Your lighthearted comment is delivered without your usual confidence; you feel a bit lightheaded to be honest, overwhelmed by anticipation and your own desire to say something.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “It’s going to sound really selfish of me—” Your heart drops, and you think it’s a miracle your knees don’t give out. Somehow, it feels like he’s about to break things off for a second time, except what is there to break off? Your barely-there friendship? You’re so caught up in your own thoughts you nearly miss the rest of his statement.

“—I want us to get back together.”

Only silence follows. Seungkwan is staring at you and you feel as though you’re staring through him. You can’t even be certain you’re breathing for a moment, and you wonder if you heard him right.

“What?” It’s a miracle he even hears you, given how quietly you speak. Hesitant, but obviously a bit concerned by your dazed appearance, he closes the gap between you with a step, taking your hands in his. It feels so natural, and yet both of you are staring at your hands as though they’re foreign objects. 

“Having you here made me realize that I don’t want to share these momentswith anyone else,” he says, slowly, carefully. “The whole crowd is meaningless if you aren’t in it… I want to make you proud. I want to share my accomplishments with you…” You lift your gaze at the tell-tale waver of his voice, squinting in the dim light.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” he warbles, and you slip your hands from his with a sympathetic chuckle, cupping his face in your hands. You brush away the tears with your thumbs, smiling wistfully at him. 

“Are you sure about this?” you ask, still holding his face in your hands. You’re reluctant to let go, in case this is the last time you get to hold him like this. He nods, swallowing hard.

“I know it was my idea to break up,” he replies. “But I regret it. I’ve been regretting it. I thought maybe you did, too, but I didn’t want you to feel pressured…”

“You’ve never made me feel that way,” you murmur. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Seungkwan. If you want me by your side, I’ll always be there.” 

You hardly have time to react when Seungkwan is suddenly kissing you, his hands reaching around your waist to pull you closer to him. You melt into his welcome embrace, quickly falling back into the familiarity of Seungkwan, winding your arms around his neck. It feels more like coming home than any plane ride ever could have — like you could have been anywhere at all and just being in Seungkwan’s arms would make it comfortable, familiar for you. He pulls away only to press his forehead against yours, cheeks burning bright red and lips curved into a broad smile. 

“Finally.” Both you and Seungkwan startle, pulling away just enough to look towards the auditorium. All twelve of your friends are clustered around the base of the stairs; it appears to have been Minghao who had spoken. Before either of you can reply, he turns his sharp gaze to Soonyoung, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Looks like you’re paying for dinner tonight.” At his words, Soonyoung looks exaggeratedly dismayed, whining to him in annoyance. Everyone else, however, comes to crowd around the two of you. Jeonghan drapes an arm around each of you, grinning cheekily.

“No more hasty breakups then, right kids?” 

“Yah, why are you bringing that up now?” Seungkwan complains, shrugging Jeonghan off both of you. He takes your hand as he continues to bicker with Jeonghan, who smiles serenely all the while as your massive group begins walking to the nearest barbecue restaurant. As you glance down at your hand in Seungkwan’s where they gently swing as you walk, listening to the familiar banter of your boyfriend and best friend against the background of all your other friends around you on the sidewalk, you can’t keep the smile off your face.

After weeks, you finally feel like you’ve come home. 

[thecaptainbriarrose]

Next Generation: Stronger Than Us

Read on Ao3

Summary:  Aiya Todoroki, daughter of Shoto and Momo Todoroki, and Hironori Bakugo, son of Katsuki and Eijirou Bakugo, are the top of their class. With their strong reputations, no one is surprised that they are going face-to-face in the UA Sports Festival final. With the known rivalry between their fathers, tension is high for everyone but things don't go... quite as they expected.

Chapter 1

This year is mine, Aiya thought. It was no surprise that the children of two of the most popular heroes were facing off in UA’s sports festival for the third year in a row. The final battle of the sports festival was less than ten minutes away. The number one spot was, once again, within reach for both of them. 

Hironori Bakugo, the son of pro heroes DynaMight and Red Riot. A strong headed young man who was blessed with the explosive quirk of his father. His spiked black hair matched his explosive personality.

Aiya Todoroki, daughter of Shoto and Momo Todoroki, both are also pro heroes. Aiya has a quirk similar to the one her father has. Half hot, half cold but fire comes from the top part of her body and ice from the bottom.

Both are strong students and amazing aspiring heroes. With plenty of experience behind them, they are a couple of heroes that many in this society like to keep their eye on.

This wasn’t the first time the two of them would face off. Their first year they were the top two. Aiya came out on top after a very close fight. Their second year they faced each other in the top four. Hironori came out on top in an even closer battle and went on to win the tournament.

And here they were again. Final two, one battle left, the whole world would be watching. Aiya took a deep breath and opened the door of the break room and stepped out into the hallway. She noticed a figure standing at the end of the corridor even though she had expected it to be empty.

“What are you doing here?“ Aiya said.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The young man said somewhat angrily. “I’m here to wish you good luck, hot head. Am I not able to do that?” He began to smile and suppress a small laugh. “I’ll be here to console you when you lose too.”

“Oh, so you think you’re gonna win huh.” At this point Aiya had made her way over to Hironori. “That’s cute.”

“ Don’t call me cute!” Hironori replied, trying to hide his smile.

“Oh come on cutie. You know you like it.”

At this point, the two were within inches of each other. Hironori grabbed Aiya’s hand as he smiled and looked into her piercingly blue eyes.

“I want to punch and kiss that ridiculously adorable grin off your face.”

“If I win I’ll let you.”

Hironori took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching and then laid a kiss on her forehead.

“You better go. We only have a few minutes before we need to go out there.”

“I’m gonna beat your a**!” Hironori yelled as he ran down the hall and around the corner.

Aiya leaned against the wall as she sighed.

“Well. I never would have guessed.”

Aiya froze as the words hit her. Her eyes became large as she hesitated to turn around. She recognized that voice, it had to be-

“You know,” Deku, aka Izuku Midoria, said as he walked calmly towards her, “I watch my students closely but that,” He paused, “that surprised me.”

Deku was a teacher at UA. He had taught one semester every year for the last three or four years or so. He specializes in combat training but often gives other small lessons here or there.

“Mr Midoria, um…” Aiya needed to say something, but the words weren’t coming.

Deku smiled. “Who knows?” He asked as a inquisitive grin spread over his face.

“No one. We’re…” Aiya hesitated. Should she even be telling him this? “We’re mostly worried about what his father would think.”

Deku’s smile faded a little. “I’ve known Kachan for a long time so I can understand why you may be hesitant.” Kachan? Aiya thought He must mean Katsuki Bakugo. She remembered Hironori telling her about how his father and Midoria had been childhood friends, well sort of. Kachan was what Midoria called Katsuki.

Deku took a deep breath and his smile grew back to where it usually was. He looked down the hallway to where Hironori had run. “However, he really cares about his kid. It might take some time but I think he would grow to understand. In the meantime,” Deku looked back at Aiya and put his hand on her shoulder, “Your secret is safe with me!”

Something about his smile reminded her of an old hero she’d seen videos of, All Might.

“Anyways,” he stood up straight and turned to walk away. “The real reason I’m here is to wish you luck.” He smiled, looked back at her and gave her a big thumbs up. ”I'm rooting for you!” After that he walked around the corner and out of sight.

Welp, Aiya thought, Hironori isn’t going to be happy about that. That was something she would have to worry about later. Right now she had a fight to win.

Aiya walked down the hall and up a flight of stairs where she waited to enter the arena. This is it, she thought, you can do this. The butterflies rose in her stomach as she thought about what was in front of her. No. I don’t have time for that. I have a good plan. I can win this. She gathered her long, bright red hair which faded to white at the ends and pulled it into a ponytail so it would be out of the way. She knew this fight wasn’t going to be easy but she was ready.

Aiya heard the crowd cheer as the announcer loudly yelled, “And now! The moment you’ve all been waiting for! Let's bring out our final competitors!” Aiya stepped into the arena to a bright spotlight and a deafening round of applause. 

It was dark outside. Some of the battles, and the clean up after, had lasted longer then expected but the crowd was still as loud and supportive as they had been all day.

The announcer continued, “She’s the daughter of the current number three hero! You know her! You love her! Aiya Todoroki!” The crowd cheered and Aiya snapped her fingers to show off a little flame in both hands. The crowd cheered even louder.

The announcer went on, “And he’s the son of the current number two hero with the same quirk! Hironori Bakugo!” Hironori kept his hand in his pockets and looked directly at Aiya, giving a small smirk. Aiya wanted to roll her eyes but she knew the cameras were on both of them and the less attention their relationship had the better so she held it back.

Aiya stepped up onto the stage. She stepped over the white chalk line and into the arena. This year the one-on-one tournament was a simple anything goes battle, get your opponent out of the ring or KO them. This was something that UA did frequently and so it was no surprise to any of the students that this was the one-on-one this year. The only difference this year was that the platform would become smaller every couple minutes by about a meter.

There was a lot running through Aiya’s mind but she knew one thing, she could win this.

“Ready to die?” Hironori yelled.

“You couldn’t kill me if you tried!” Aiya shouted back.

“And now!” The announcer began,and crowd began to cheer louder. “Are you ready?!?” Even though it was hard to see the crowd you could hear many fans begin to stand. “SET!” Hirinori grinned and moved to a ready position as Aiya did the same.

“G-”

The lights shut off. The monitors went black. Aiya stood up strait in the darkness.

A circle of light appeared under Aiya’s feet and she felt herself begin to fall. She immediately grabbed the stage and frantically tried to get a good grip on anything to catch herself. She had just enough time to see that the same thing was happening to Hironori. He had managed to climb mostly out of the circle and was just beginning to regain his balance when the glowing circle increased dramatically in size and he fell, what looked to be, straight down and then the hole closed. As this was happening, she could hear the crowds confused and frantic reactions followed by a couple of screams. This wasn’t right.

Aiya felt something, or someone grab her ankle. She immediately let out a burst of ice and froze whatever was around her ankle. Just as she was getting free, the circle grew larger, just like the one around Hironori had, and she fell.

She hit what felt like concrete and frantically looked around, finding that she could hardly see anything. Someone from behind her quickly wrapped a cloth around her face. Aiya let out a scream and began to exhale fire, quickly igniting the cloth and whatever foul smelling substance was on it.

“D**n it!” Aiya could hear Hironori but it wasn’t close. When he ignited his quirk she could see that they were in some kind of warehouse. Aiya was able to quickly get to her feet and created a wall of ice around herself, giving her a moment to think. What is going on, she thought, there has to be a way to get out of this.

Before she could do anything, the ice wall that Aiya had built disappeared. She quickly blasted fire directly behind her and she was able to see at least two figures behind her and one in front. The person in front of her reached for her neck. Are they trying to kill us? She was able to bairly dodge. Someone behind her grabbed her ponytail and she was pulled to the ground. With the wind having been knocked out of her, Aiya struggled to move but was able to release just enough fire to see the people around her. Six, no seven. Maybe eight. She was strong and could easily take eight people at once but she didn’t know who they were. Some of them looked slightly familiar but without a good look she had no idea. Without knowing what quirks each of them had it would be nearly impossible to win but she could try.

Aiya started to formulate a plan, the best she could between dodges, and jumped to her feet. She grabbed the arm of someone who attempted to grab her and threw them to the ground. Based on the sound they made it was probably a man.

She reached around just in time to grab a pipe that was being swung at the back of her head. She grabbed the pipe and threw it as far away as she could but before she had time to take another step she was hit from behind and dropped to the floor as everything went black.

***

Aiya’s eyelids felt like bricks. Lifting them was far too much work but as she remembered what had happened she forced them to open.

The first thing she saw was Hironori. He was attempting to make a shushing motion but his hands were chained in large, mitten-like, metal cuffs. It was at this point that she realized that she was also chained but, unlike Hironori, her feet were also being held together in large metal boots. The cuffs on her hands and feet were held together with a chain that couldn’t have been more than a foot and a half long. Aiya was curled up on the concrete floor in an extremely uncomfortable position with her hands and feet behind her back. She could feel her legs begin to cramp but there wasn’t much she could do about that at the moment.

“... and then we’ll be all set.”

Aiya’s ears began to adjust and she began to hear the conversation coming from the lighted part of the room. She wasn’t able to turn, because her chains would create too much noise, but she watched Hironori’s reactions as the conversation continued.

“Since we’re ready let’s do it now. I want to see blood hit the floor.” A younger, yet sinister sounding figure said. It sounded like a young man, probably in his early 20’s.

“Just killing the kids isn’t going to prove our point. They’ll just hunt us down for murder and a few pros will be down a couple of kids. We have to think about how to really hurt society.” This was a voice that was much older with a raspy tone. Also a man.

Aiya’s eyes grew wide as what was said began to set in. They’re going to kill us. She thought as she continued to stare at Hironori.

He didn’t look scared, he looked angry, but she knew him well enough to know that he was frightened. He was smart enough to know we had to work out the most logical plan with the highest chance of success so she also knew that he wouldn’t act recklessly.

The conversation began to die down and Aiya heard the group begin to walk away. They must’ve walked out of sight because Hironori turned to face her. 

He moved as quietly as he could to get closer to her and whispered, “The main door is on the other side of this wall.” He motioned backwards with his head. Aiya was just now realizing how beat up he looked. There were bruises all over his body and his clothing had been torn. There was a little bit of swelling on his left cheek as well but it looked like an older injury. “It seems to be one of those older, large, sliding metal doors. It must be really heavy because it sounds like they always have at least two people opening it. And it seems to be the only point of entry or exit. There may be windows somewhere but nothing nearby.”

It was obvious he was trying to hide it but Hironori was shaking. His jacket that he had been wearing during the sports festival was gone.

“It’s to cold for you in here isn’t it.”

He didn’t look at her. She knew he didn’t like admitting any kind of weakness.

“I can’t sweat, so there’s no way I can get these d**n cuffs off on my own.” He seemed frustrated.

“My hands aren’t going anywhere either. There’s no way I can create enough force or heat to remove them but these boots on my feet, they may be thin enough to freeze and shatter but it would involve an incredible amount of force and would likely break several bones in my feet making any kind of escape difficult.”

Hironori looked at their surroundings. He was likely thinking the same thing she was.

“We may have to wait for a rescue.”

Hironori was not the kind to admit defeat, so him saying this out loud was surprising to Aiya. They could possibly stand their ground if necessary but the quirks that these people possessed were a mystery to Aiya and though Hironori had likely seen many of their kidnappers, he probably didn’t know many of their quirks either.

“It’s odd they don’t have someone watching us. Some things about all of this seem well thought out but others seem amateur.” Aiya began to think about how strange the situation was.

“I’m only familiar with the quirks of a couple of the villains that I have seen. These people, they know what they’re doing, they likely just don’t have enough experience and probably underestimate us.”

“Maybe a little.” The booming voice startled both of them. “But I’m sure you’ve realized by now that there’s really no chance of escape.”

Aiya could hardly move as is but seeing this figure in front of her caused her whole body to freeze. She could hardly breathe as memories of a long-from-forgotten summer camp came flooding back. This man… this thing, had nearly killed both of them that day.

“It will all be over soon.” He continued. “We’re just simply waiting for the right time. The time when their hopes are high yet, little will they know, that their chances of success will be very little.”

They? Who is he talking about? Did they do all this just to get after-

The man's orange complexion darkened as he stepped out of the light and farther into their little enclosed corner.

“Now listen carefully.” He bent down so he was eye to eye with both of them. “You’re not going to survive this. No matter how desperate or frightened you are, you will not make it out alive.” He grabbed Aiya by the collar of her jacket. “So say your goodbyes before we have to put you back to sleep.”

He threw Aiya towards Hironori and Hironori did his best to catch her. The man gave a terrifying grin with his rotting deep blue teeth and left.

Aiya felt like crying as she rested her head on Hironori’s chest.

“He was talking about our parents, wasn’t he.” Hironori said this more like a statement than a question.

“Probably more than just them.” Our teachers, our friends who are also aspiring heroes, anyone who has ever admired our strength and courage. “You have to give them credit though. I’ve read the articles, I’m sure you have too. The two of us, we rival the top heroes. Our quirks are stronger than our parents even though they don’t want to admit it. Many people know and believe this which is likely why these villains have chosen to go after us. Taking us will destroy much of the hope that has been built up in this society since All Mights retirement.”

Hironori kissed the top of her head and then rested his chin on it. “That’s exactly why we have to win. The odds are stacked against us, I know that, but we have to wait for the right moment and show the world that we will pull through this,” he did his best to push her slightly away and tilt her head up so he could see her flaming blue eyes, “together.”

They sat there for several minutes without saying a word. It felt like hours but at the same time it felt like only a few moments. They were going to be okay, they had far to many people who cared for them, far to many who were counting on them. Yet, in that moment, their minds felt foggy and their abilities unfamiliar. The one thing they both knew for sure was what they would give to save the other. They would give everything.

“I hate to break up this adorable reunion but unfortunately I need you both unconscious for this next part in order for it to go smoothly.” This was not the same man as before but he was familiar to both of them, just in a different way.

“It’s you.” Hironori stated calmly. Aiya sat up.

“Whatever do you mean?” The man replied, tightening his bright yellow tie. The man was dressed very nicely just like he was in many of his pictures. His deep blue suit and nice shoes were obviously the best money could buy in this area and he obviously had no business getting his hands dirty.

“You’re the one their talking about,” Hironori continued, “whose victims were all found in back alleys. Their bodies seemed old and decayed as if they’d been laying there for twenty years yet they didn’t have any injuries. No stab wounds, no fractured bones. Keiichi Matsumura. ”

“Ah yes that, well there’s only so much you can hide from the media.” Matsumura took out an arousal can and held it towards their faces. “Now, just relax for me.”

Hironori jumped to his feet and kicked the can out of his hands. 

“I was really hoping you would allow this to be easy. You should have learned by now.” Matsumura continued. “Oh well.” He snapped his fingers and several people came around the corner, many of which looked familiar. They were likely thugs that had committed crimes here and there, just enough to get a little media coverage but not enough to have an impact.

Aiya quickly tried to stand but she had forgotten that her metal cuffs and boots had been chained together. Someone came and pushed her to the ground and stood on her chest. Her eyes started to water as a pain surged through her back. She instinctively looked at Hironori as if to ask for his help but he was struggling to hold his own against four of the thugs.

As the man standing over Aiya held up an aerosol canister, similar to the one before, Aiya turned to see Matsumura. All she could see was the smug grin on his face as the foul smelling substance from the canister entered her lungs and her eyelids fluttered shut.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: En Prise (Chapter 1)

Summary:  

Hange already had the innate analysis skills and the quick wittedness to excel in the classroom. Chess should have come easy for her. As she processed her fifth loss to the man in front of her, she started to understand that there was more to the game than meets the eye.

College AU! Levi is a little too good at chess and Hange gets roped into studying the game further.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Links to other chapters: 2

Notes: Netflix has this new show out called "Queen's Gambit" which makes chess look like I pretty good driver for a story. Attack on Titan has its fair amount of chess motifs as well and that's when I knew a Chess AU has to exist somewhere in the fandom. With that, Levihan AU came into existence.

Chapter 1

His earliest memories comprised only three sensations --- gnawing hunger, paralyzing despondency and the reprieve of the cold hard pieces at his fingertips as he maneuvered them through the board.

Over the years, his body had tuned out everything else, justifying it to his being too young to have processed it anyway.

If anyone had asked him though about the first games he had ever played with his mother, he would have been able to replay them from opening the game with a queen's pawn to the sight of his mother's hand laying the king on the ground in defeat.

It had been ten years since his mother's death, three years since his uncle's disappearance and Levi was alone. It was just him and the last memories of his uncle and his mother immortalized in a game of strategy.

Somehow, that was what made tournaments so calming to the young adult Levi.

It was his sixth game of the tournament and Levi had ended up playing on one of the boards on the corners of the large dining hall turned tournament venue. He snuck a glance at the top boards at the stage towards the center of the room before making his first move.

"The London System. Too scared of tactics eh? Typical of beginners."

Calming yet oddly stressful. Calming yet oddly depressing. Levi thought to himself as he watched the familiar play of the London System transition into an unfamiliar position.

Of course, there are billions of possibilities. There are bound to be some I've never seen in my life.

"Hey kid, your position is just weakness after weakness. Those doubled pawns on your f file, your h3 pawn. This is just a mate waiting to happen."

Within a few moves, Levi's opponent tore through his castled king with a bishop sacrifice. Seeing that the mate was inevitable, Levi put his hand out from under him in surrender.

"This was way too easy, kid. You probably could have given me a harder time if you just didn't show up at all. Do yourself a favor and find yourself some other hobby."

There were assholes in the chess community and Levi had heard that same insult towards him countless times. He grabbed his hoodie, put it back on and made his way out of the tournament hall. On the way out, he stopped in front of the list of their latest scores.

Scores as of Round 5

He scrolled towards the bottom of the sheet, knowing his name would be there.

Levi : 0

Levi was surprised to feel a knot at the pit of his stomach as he stared at the score for a few more seconds.

Losing would hurt for anyone. He thought to himself, making sense of that odd bout of emotion.

He walked away from the tournament hall and disappeared into the crowds of the subway beneath it.

                                             En Prise

Mens Sana in Corpore Sano.

A Sound Mind in Sound Body.

Every student was required to take eight units of physical education, spread out among the first two years of college

If Hange had read the flyer before she applied to the prestigious Eldia university, she probably would have figured it out by the fine print right under the name of the university. If she had at least opened her study plan since she got it three months ago, she probably would have seen it written in clear fine print below “General Chemistry” and “Precalculus”

She had picked her university for the Chemistry degree, the prestige and nothing else. All she had to know was that it was one of the highest ranking universities in the country and they had complete facilities for biochemistry research.

She was quick to take the test, fill out the paperwork and submit it along with her essay.

Five months after she found the results, a week before the start of classes, came enlistment. As Hange stared at her study plan during her online enlistment proper, she felt completely and utterly trapped.

Her majors were no problem since they were all pre-enlisted. Her predicament came in the form of her physical education units.

Four semesters of PE. Hange grimaced. And it's gonna be counted towards my GPA?  She was not athletic at all and had hoped to avoid anything physical so she could dedicate herself to her studies.

How long will I have to do this?  Hange thought to herself as she scrolled through her four year study plan that opened up in the website in front of her.

   Physical Education [for enlistment]

She clicked on it and watched as the choices opened up in front of her. Around the country, hundreds of other students were enlisting and she watched as the numbers of open slots fell to zero in some classes.

It's not like I wanted to take basketball or volleyball anyway. Hange thought as she sorted it by slot. Surprisingly, the ones which were running out of slots faster were the more physical ones. She had already planned to try for anything with the least exercise.

Table tennis. Fencing. Tai Chi. Yoga.

She stared at those four for a moment as she considered those alternatives if she could not find anything less strenuous. She continued to scroll down.

Street dance. Folk dance. Chess.

Her eyes fell on the last one with twenty full slots. She had played the game many times before, having been taught by her own parents growing up. She had beaten a lot of her peers as well since she had the innate analysis skills and the quick wittedness, most people her age did not have growing up. She was confident she would have it easier in that class.

For a moment, she had considered pushing it back towards a later semester. As the numbers started to fall though on all the classes, Hange knew she had to make a decision soon.

She clicked "Chess" and a few pages later, "Confirm Enlistment."

It's gonna be my first year. The important thing is I get through it.

                                               En Prise

A few days after enlistment, Hange moved into her dormitory room with her roommate, Rico Brzenska, a petite girl with short blond hair and glasses who looked too busy to even acknowledge the new presence in the room. She looked like she was studying the first few pages of their precalculus textbook, only offering her name in response to Hange loudly and messily emptying the contents of her suitcase on the floor next to her bed.

Hange had similar plans of reading in advance. The first day of classes was three days away though and she had wanted to see the campus at least before burying herself in study material

She looked out the window to see that the sun was starting to turn a mild orange. She had arrived in her room by 4pm. It was early autumn though and Hange guessed that it might get dark sooner than she expected.

Unpacking could wait. She wanted to see the city. Hange threw aside her suitcase, pocketed her wallet and phone, and made her way outside of the dorm.

She stepped out into the green landscape just outside the entrance to the women's dormitory. The air was starting to get cold and she almost regretted not bringing a jacket. Not wanting to waste any time though, she trudged on, making her way out of campus.

A lot of new students must have moved into the dormitories already. There were many people her age already walking the streets of the university town. Hange could see some students already inside the bars that lined the busier streets.

Even since high school though, she had never seen the appeal of bars and parties. She chose to walk on without giving them a second glance.

Hange was about to circle back into campus when along the more quiet streets, she came across a small book shop.

I walked this far already, might as well check out stuff.

The familiar musty smell of books welcomed her as she opened the store shop. She had spent years cooped up in library after library, and had developed an affinity for that scent in particular.

She had bought most of her textbooks in advance. In fact, the only subject she had not prepared for at all was her Physical Education classes. She had chosen that university for their chemistry curriculum and the fact that she had to take physical education units, left her bitter and indignant about giving it the same  preparation she would have naturally given it if it were any other subject.

With time though, Hange did get curious. A day before she left for college she started playing a few games of speed chess anonymously online, winning most of them. It was an easy and straightforward game. All she had to do was make sure her pieces didn't get eaten and make sure she takes the free pieces. When she accumulated enough of an advantage, she went for a mate. All the games had been like that.

As she walked through the bookstore, she crossed a games section. The books in the store piled up all the way up to the ceilings. Hange surveyed the stack of books in the game section, only to realize that at least half of them were about chess.

Was chess this complicated of a game? Hange opened one of the books only to find paragraphs worth of explanation for one board position. She pulled books out of the shelves one by one, scanning the first few pages of each book that had caught her interest.

The Sicilian Dragon

The London System

Attack with Black

Chess Puzzles

Common Chess Mistakes

Maybe it was worth studying. Hange settled for what looked to be the most similar to a text book. It was thicker than a lot of other books but was worth as much as the others which only convinced her more that it was the best bargain.

Modern Chess Openings.

Hange was sure if she just followed the path she had taken an hour ago to the bookstore, she would have ended up safe home.

If I follow the same general direction, I'd also get home anyway. With that in mind, Hange stepped out of the main street and into one of the narrower and darker alleys, her new book safe in a paper bag by her side.

Although the streets were starting to get dark as the sun started to set below the horizon her curiosity and sense of adventure remained unwavered. It was a reckless habit and Hange's parents had told her before that it could get her killed one day.  

The streets she found herself in had their fair share of bars and eateries, although not as posh as those in the main street. Her own experiences had dictated to her multiple times though that the smaller ones probably even served better food than those in the main street.

She slowed her stride, gathering in the rustic view of the alleys, the souvenir kiosks and the shabbier bars.

"That shortie is fucking hustling me! He left his knight en prise on purpose. I'm not leaving until he gives me back my money!" A middle aged man burst out of one of the bars, his face pink with what could have been anger or alcohol.

He left his knight en prise… A free piece. Having spent a good hour in the bookstore going through chess books, the lingo was still fresh in her mind.

Two men were holding him from behind, looking the same shade of pink and Hange deduced then that he was probably drunk.

"We're really sorry for the trouble we're causing you here. We left the payment on our table." Another voice said from the doorway of the bar.

As Hange approached the bar, she saw another man bowing his head in apology to what looked to be the owner by the door. The two men made space for Hange to enter as they continued to discuss the logistics of what just happened. Hange knew she would get more context on that scene if she checked it out herself.

She did not need to think much to see the cause of the ruckus. Most of the bar goers were still staring in shock at one of the tables in the corner.

On the table sat a young man who looked to be her age, counting a wad of fresh bills on his hand. In front of him was a chess board, the pieces lined up so neatly, it was unbelievable to think it had anything to do with the drunk angry man who had burst out of the bar just a minute ago.

"What's that?" Hange asked no one in particular as she approached the table. The complexity of the game had caught her eye already back in the bookshop. Getting to see it in practice so soon after that got Hange red with excitement.

"Chess," the man at the table said as if the answer wasn't so blatantly obvious. "You play?"

It was an easy and straightforward game. All she had to do was make sure her pieces don't get eaten and make sure she takes the free pieces.

All she had to do was accumulate enough of an advantage to go for a mate.

He put two of his closed fists in front of her, a pawn in each of them. She picked the one on her right which opened to a white pawn. She was slated to start first.

She opened up with her king's pawn, knowing from experience that it opened up the most pieces. He mirrored her first move, pushing his king's pawn so it was right in front of hers.

She brought out her knight, then her bishop, preparing to castle kingside.

By the start of the middle game, Hange was starting to realize that the man in front of her had completely mirrored her position. A few moves in, he left a piece en prise.

Wins were usually straightforward for those with a material disadvantage. Before taking the piece, Hange looked at the man in front of her, only to see he looked completely unbothered by the free piece.

Am I missing something? It's too early in the game. There's no attack.

Oddly enough, fifteen moves later, Hänge found herself resigning having trapped her queen in the corner of the board.

She was a knight up. She should have been able to win.

"Again."

                                      En Prise

Five games in and Hange was out of money.

"Wait. Let's play one more."

"It's late." The man stood up and counted the cash which used to be Hange's. "Besides, I'm assuming this is all you have on hand?"

Hange stood up to look at the clock behind her and it was only then did she realize she stood a good few inches taller than him. His domineering presence on the board had somehow made him look much taller to her.

She looked to the clock behind her.

9:30

Shit. Hange had lost track of time. Her dormitory had a 10pm curfew on weekdays. She grabbed her paper bag, pocketed her empty wallet and hurried out of the bar.

Hange made her way through the narrow alleys towards the general direction of the university. Those streets were much more peaceful than their wider counterparts and that gave Hange the perfect environment to reflect on how the man had played.

She taught back to the first game. He had left his night en prise at the start of the middle game, his face completely unbothered even as Hange took it. Either way, he was a material down and she knew enough of the basics to know that the win should have been straightforward from there.

Hange could not pinpoint exactly which move proved fatal on her end. The man had slowly taken over her position, advancing his territory slowly but deftly until suddenly her queen was trapped.

At first, she thought that she had been careless but as she looked back to the five games in a row. They all started with her opponent giving a notable advantage to her, whether it be a three pawns, a free knight or a rook for a knight.

Every game, she had thought she was winning. His blunders at the opening, would have made anyone think that he was a little careless or a little too overconfident. His wins came out looking like lucky breaks. Those lucky breaks though were the reason he managed to earn from the games in the first place.

In between games, if Hange had given herself time to breathe and consider the situation, she probably would have noticed the pattern. Her frustration at her own carelessness had taken over every single time.

That man was no scatterbrain. He planned everything

She thought back to the drunk man who was dragged out of the bar.

That shortie fucking hustled me! He left his knight en prise on purpose. I'm not leaving until he gives me back my money!

That same shorty just walked away with almost half of her allowance that month.

As the realization dawned on her of what just happened, Hange found it difficult to contain her anger. "That fucking asshole!" Hange screamed as she kicked the sign that welcomed her back to university grounds.The pain that quickly spidered up her foot and the ice cold wind that brushed past her only added injury to the insult of having been duped too easily.

As Hange limped back into campus, her thoughts flew back to her opponent a while ago. He had counted the money multiple times as he waited for her to move. He kept his face expressionless with every move she had played. Those images only served to further infuriate her and Hange started to scramble for an action plan.

She had to get back at him somehow.

[wbywebseriesreviews]

Headcanons ask: can you rewrite Season 2 of Good Morning Call after Nao and Uehara breakup?

BUCKLE UP CAUSE THIS IS GONNA BE LONG: 

The morning after telling Uehara “let’s break up” feels like waking up from a years-long dream. After icing her eyes (swollen from all the sobbing) she discovers that it takes no time at all to make one breakfast and one lunch instead of two. She’s finished so quickly that, for once, Nao’s early to her first class. 

It’s in the middle of the period that she realizes with a jolt that she’s taking all general education courses, because she has no idea what to study. Her only dream has been to be Uehara’s girlfriend and, eventually, his wife. 

At lunch, Ota and Marina talk about a hundred things going on that she can’t believe she doesn’t already know about. Every follow-up question is met with either a sheepish look (Ota) or a careless wave of the hand (Marina). “We’ve definitely talked about this before,” they say. “You probably don’t remember because you were busy with something.”

They’re sweet enough not to state the obvious about who that something is. 

Was. 

Within a few weeks, life without Uehara fills up with everything else that Nao has let fall to the wayside. She starts studying so she can actually answer questions in class, instead of making lists of the things that Uehara likes. Instead of desperately freeing up her weekends for potential dates with Uehara, she finally makes it to Daichi’s games. Nights usually spent watching the scary movies that Uehara orders online, are now reserved for low-budget spa nights with Marina, or going out for drinks with the girls from the sewing club.

When she goes out, men flirt with her, sometimes. Nao is still too shy (too heartbroken, she tells herself, though it sounds more like something that’s supposed to be instead of something that is) to ever flirt back.

Not texting him with dumb things, just anything she can think of to get a response, is harder than she thought. At some point, each of her friends will end up taking Nao’s phone and locking themselves in the bathroom with it. Nao’s always mad in the moment, but she ends up baking them dessert as a thank you every time . After all, it’s not like texting him would change anything, even if Uehara was the type to answer.

He probably would, Nao thinks. But that doesn’t mean she should do it.

Abe writes another play, and though he refuses to ever cast her with an onstage part again, he lets her be his stage manager. Though it fills her entire schedule for a solid two weeks, and she gets back to her apartment at wee hours of the morning, it’s an incredible amount of fun.

Even though the door next to hers remains closed, she knows Uehara’s light only goes off when she’s safely inside. It’s not enough, but it means something. Nao wouldn’t pretend otherwise.

Nao just barely passes her midterms by the skin of her teeth. She quits her job at the shop to find something on campus, so she can have more time to study. Luckily, the communications department offers one-semester positions at the help-desk to students. With her friendly demeanor and dedication to solving problems, Nao is readily accepted.

And if leaving her other workplace means that Natsume can’t watch her from the back room, eyes carrying all the hopes that he’s not brave enough to admit, then that’s just the way things are.  

Mitsuishi comes to visit. Naturally, he hears the story from Uehara first. He asks Nao questions, some of which are an easy to answer (It wasn’t because of Saeko) and some of which are harder (I don’t know what it would take to fix it).

“It’s funny, Nao,” he says, slinging one arm around Marina’s waist and the other around Nao’s shoulders. “I thought you’d have to be a very different person to dump Uehara. But you seem even more like yourself, lately.”

She laughs, shakes her head as though she doesn’t understand. But that night, Nao turns the words over and over in her mind like a diamond, wondering how it was exactly what she needed to hear.

Right before second semester, the problems start. Natsume visits Uehara’s apartment at least three times a week--perhaps to try to accidentally-on-purpose run into her, or possibly to try to get them back together, or Uehara’s just making sure she doesn’t end up dating him. Nao doesn’t know what to say to either man; with the way they stare at her, she knows that they expect something. It’s her responsibility, in their eyes, to say something that will fix it. Or at least to give them a clue on how Uehara can.

But, if she’s being honest with herself (and she promised she would, now that she’s going to be a real adult)? Nao doesn’t want to.

Instead, she finds a new apartment a few blocks down and moves in when she knows Uehara’s out of town to visit Yuri and Takuya.

Maybe it’s the coward’s move, but she can breathe easier after it’s done.

Her new apartment is big and bright, and when she decorates Nao finds all kinds of things that she’s long left untouched. Old photos of her friends, Kitaura’s cell phone number scrawled on a piece of paper so they could keep in touch while at separate colleges, a gift card from Yuri to a “real grown-up lady’s store”. Her high school certificate, the lumpy hand-stitched handkerchief she started and abandoned for her dad’s birthday, and finally a report she made in junior high, writing that someday, she would go to school to be a kindergarten teacher.

Nao sits on the kitchen floor, sobbing in shame and embarrassment, for centering her entire life around someone other than herself. Pressing her hands to her cheeks, she promises that from now on, my dreams should be about me.

Because she’s still unpacking, Nao orders ramen for dinner. She calls Kitaura’s number, catching up while she eats. When she quietly admits that things are over with Uehara, Kitaura laughs and says, “I thought that might happen.”

Nao wonders how everyone but her could see it for so long. The lack of pity in Kitaura’s voice is strangely exciting, though.

They make plans to talk again, and visit over break. It’s a weird joy to schedule her time around a group of friends, instead of a single boyfriend.

She submits her request for an education major. The next time she orders ramen, Nao and the delivery boy stare at each other in stunned surprise. Issei, as it turns out, has wondered what she’s been up to.

They go to a movie. A comedy, one that they both laugh at. One night turns into another, and another, and another. Sometimes Ota joins them; sometimes it’s Daichi and Nanase; but most of the time, it’s just the two of them.

When she tells him about Uehara, sitting on the couch red-penning the poster for Abe’s latest project, Issei seems to freeze. His gaze is guarded when he asks, “Do you miss him, Nao?”

It’s hard to explain how the answer can be yes and no. But Issei is the kind of person that won’t judge her for struggling with something like that, so Nao tries her best to explain.

Sometimes she thinks about kissing Issei. Not now, when she’s still getting pieces of herself back; but maybe someday.

Part of her expects the day to come when Uehara knocks on her door, breathless and not wearing a coat, arms hanging loosely at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. It’s deja vu, when he asks her to come back and says he’s sorry, really sorry, I don’t want to be without you anymore. He starts to say he loves her, and Nao feels the words from deep within her heart spill out from her lips before he can finish.  

“The Nao that you remember, that you’re in love with, isn’t here anymore. She always chose you. This time, I choose myself.” 

Shutting the door on him is the hardest thing she’s ever done in her life. But she does it, and the world doesn’t end.

 Instead, Nao has finally found herself. 

[dragonsaphirareads]

Passing Notes

Day 13 of @tsshipmonth2020 Fluffuary

Ship: Intrulogical

AU: High School

Word Count: 3312

Summary: Logan takes an elective science course his senior year, and ends up sitting next to his friend’s crude, immature brother who insists on passing him notes every class period. Eventually, Logan realizes the hidden message he’d been missing.

(Like listening to podfics? You can listen to this oneshot on my YT channel here!)

“I still can’t believe you took a science class instead of a free period! You’re such an overachieving nerd!” Roman exclaimed as they stood around Logan’s locker. Patton elbowed him in the side as Logan rolled his eyes.

“He’s allowed to do whatever he wants with his schedule!” Patton defended.

“I know, but we could have all had free time together! And now we’re split!” Roman whined. Logan wasn’t fazed, all too used to his dramatics at this point.

“We already spend hours together after school for drama, I think you’ll survive an hour and a half free period without me.” Logan said, checking his written schedule once more for the room number before slamming his locker shut. “But if you truly want to see me more, I’m sure you could go get your schedule changed.”

Roman shook his head a little too quickly while making a face, and the other two snickered at him. Patton glanced at the clock hanging in the hall and frowned. “You’d better get going Lo, you’re gonna be late!”

Logan checked and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll see you two after school.” They waved as he headed off towards the science hallway, thankfully arriving with a few minutes to spare.

Every spot at the lab tables had a small slip of paper folded into a tent on it, and looking closer he saw they were name tags. Right, he’d heard that this teacher was a fan of arranged seating charts, especially at the beginning of a new semester. He found his name and was thankful that it was at the front of the room. Sitting in the back made it harder to focus, mostly because the students sitting back there didn’t usually care to be in class.

He took his seat and set down his notebook and pencil case, as well as the script for the spring musical that he still needed to read through. As other students came into the room, he flipped it open and skimmed the first few pages.

A minute later, the bell rang and the teacher walked into the room, welcoming them and introducing himself. Then, as he was passing out copies of the syllabus, the door opened and a disheveled, very familiar face waltzed in.

“Sorry I’m late!” He announced, and the teacher just sighed, shaking his head.

“Just... take your seat, please.” He told him, pointing at the only open seat... right next to Logan. The young man grinned, happily bouncing over to him and slamming his stuff down on the table. “Quietly, Remus.”

“My bad!” Remus sung, not at all apologetic. He then turned to Logan, still with that wide, slightly unhinged grin. “Hi Logan! Didn’t know you were taking this class!”

“Hello, Remus.” Logan greeted neutrally, suddenly feeling a small pang of regret at not taking that free period after all.

He wasn’t exactly strangers with Remus, but he wasn’t close to him either. Their interactions boiled down to the few times he and Patton hung out at Roman’s house and Remus was there. Roman didn’t exactly get along well with his twin, so he tended to spend time with his friends elsewhere.

As such, Logan didn’t know much about Remus. He knew he was loud and crude, disruptive in class, extremely creative with his language, and he was friends with Virgil and Ernest, two other seniors who were part of the drama department.

Logan wondered if the teacher had possibly placed them at the same table for a reason, since Logan was an “overachieving teacher’s pet”, according to Roman. Perhaps he thought he might be able to encourage Remus to focus.

Unlikely, considering the other kid had already pulled out his notebook and started doodling. Logan shrugged. If he was drawing, he would at least be quiet. He opened his own notebook, making notes of anything important the teacher said about assignment deadlines or test dates, ignoring the loud scratching of Remus’s pencil beside him.

That is, until there was a loud rip of paper and a moment later, something hit Logan’s elbow. He stared at it curiously, then up at Remus who had gone back to his doodling, a corner of his notebook paper conspicuously missing.

Logan grabbed it and put it in front of him, debating whether or not to open it or just throw it away. Either way, he would save it for the end of class. He wouldn’t let Remus distract him.

Two more folded paper pieces hit him over the course of the class period, and each time Logan took it and placed it carefully in the pile in front of him. He could feel Remus getting frustrated at him, but he didn’t let that bother him.

Once the bell finally rang and class was over, Logan stuffed the notes in his pocket to deal with at a later time. He grabbed his things and left the classroom while Remus was called aside by the teacher, heading to his locker.

Roman and Patton met him there, having already gotten their stuff from their own lockers.

“So!” Roman said, leaning against the neighboring locker smugly. “How was your class?”

“...Interesting. Were you aware that Remus was taking the same class?” Logan asked, and Roman blinked.

“Huh? No? Wait, he is? Are you sure it wasn’t someone who just looked like him?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You two are identical twins, Roman. I’m very familiar with what you look like, and I had a very close view because the teacher put him next to me.”

“Aww shit, that sucks! I’m so sorry Lo, was he annoying?”

“Well, he was quiet, for the most part. He did keep passing me these notes, though.”

Patton tilted his head, curious. “Notes? What do they say?”

“Probably something gross.” Roman grumbled.

Logan pulled the ripped pieces out of his pocket, holding them in his palm. “I didn’t read them during class, so I’m not sure what they say.”

His friends each grabbed one, unfolding them as Logan finished packing his backpack. When he pulled it out of his locker and turned back, they both had odd looks on their faces. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, well... there’s nothing written on them!” Patton said, trying to be chipper. Roman rolled his eyes, showing Logan the paper.

On it was a pencil sketch of... something. Logan couldn’t actually tell what it was supposed to be - some kind of catlike creature, maybe? But it also had fins like a fish, and horns...

“Hmm.” Logan hummed, and Roman crumpled the piece in his hand, huffing.

“What the hell?! He’s so weird, you should just toss ‘em Lo, don’t encourage him by taking them.”

“Maybe you could just tell him to keep them? They are well drawn, he should draw them in a sketchbook so he can look back at them!” Patton suggested.

Logan shrugged, shoving his own shred of paper back into his pocket while Roman wasn’t looking. Sure, the drawings were strange, and they didn’t seem to be based in any kind of reality, but they were fascinating all the same. It was clear Remus had a talent for drawing - the shading on the horned cat/fish creature made it look almost real.

“We should be going - Mr. Sanders wanted us to be there early today.” Logan changed the topic, and thankfully his friends allowed it. The three of them walked down to the auditorium together, quickly forgetting about Remus and his strange behavior.

All of them except for Logan, who couldn’t quite push from his mind the excited, child-like glee in Remus’s eyes when he had passed that first note across the table.

~

It became a routine after a while. Logan would go to his fourth hour class, Remus would come in late and immediately start drawing in his notebook, occasionally passing the notes to Logan, who would stash them in his pocket. He didn’t throw them away - as disturbing as some of the sketches could be, Logan could tell that Remus wasn’t trying to gross him out. What he did want though, he wasn’t entirely sure.

He wasn’t sure, that is, until Logan was sitting backstage one day watching the actors run through the show and he pulled out one of the notes to examine it. It was some kind of tentacled monster, most likely inspired by their recent lectures about deep sea life. Again, Logan had to marvel at the technical skill behind it. Both of the Prince twins were incredibly talented, apparently, because Roman had his art hanging up all over his room and had been displayed in the school several times as well.

Something shifted behind him, and a voice spoke beside his head. “Is that Remus’s?”

Logan jumped, folding the note quickly and turning to look at who had snuck up on him. Ernest, the head of costume design, who had a knowing smile on his face.

“What did you say?” Logan asked, playing dumb. He was a little embarrassed to be caught staring at the note, even though logically he knew he had no reason to be. Ernest rolled his eyes, pointing at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

“That note. It’s from Remus, right?”

The stage manager quickly glanced out on stage, gauging where his friends were. He really didn’t want either of them to walk in on this conversation, especially since they had advised him to simply get rid of the sketches. Thankfully, neither of them would be on his side of the stage for a while. Logan sighed.

“Yes, it is. He’s been giving them to me during class. I’m not certain why, though.”

The costume designer snickered. “Maybe he wants to impress you with his incredible drawing skills.” He said sarcastically.

Logan slipped the note back into his pocket. “Well, they are incredible, in a technical sense. He has a very impressive grasp of anatomy and shading.” He tried to speak neutral about it, lest Ernest get the wrong idea.

The other hummed. “I wouldn’t know. He doesn’t show his drawings to anyone.”

At that, Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “What? But he’s been doing this for nearly a month now... and I never asked for him to show me his drawings.”

Ernest pressed his lips together tightly, but it wasn’t out of anger. There was something else behind it... “I dunno, Logan... you’re smart, I’m sure you can figure out what’s going on in his weird little head.”

“But you’re his friend, aren’t you?”

He laughed, walking away. “You think he tells me anything?”

Logan huffed, turning back to what was happening on stage. He did know - he had to know. Ernest was acting too suspicious to not know what was going on in his friend’s head. But clearly, he wasn’t going to tell him.

He tried to put it out of his head, but something was bothering him. Ernest had known the sketch was Remus’s, which told him that he must have seen Remus’s drawings at least a few times in order to recognize it. But if Remus was as secretive as he sounded with his sketches, then that would be difficult.

So maybe he wasn’t that secretive. Even so, there was something weird about what had been happening every time they were in class. He wasn’t an artist, but he knew Roman, and he knew that Roman was protective of his sketchbook, and almost never ripped anything out of it. If he did draw something for someone else, it was on a dedicated page that he tore out.

He threaded his fingers through his hair, frustrated. It didn’t make any sense, but then again, Remus had never made much sense to him.

Tomorrow he had science. He vowed that he would watch Remus a little closer, to try and figure out why he was exhibiting this extremely odd behavior.

~

Logan got to class early, pulling out a book and skimming it as he watched other students filter into the classroom. Then, for the first time since the beginning of the semester, Remus actually arrived three minutes before the bell rang.

As always, the other student shot a wide, toothy smile his way before cracking open his notebook, noticeably thinner than it had been a month ago, and sketching immediately.

Logan watched him out of the corner of his eye, just in case Remus noticed what he was doing, and what he was seeing didn’t make any sense.

For his sketch, Remus didn’t start with any kind of skeleton or outline, which Logan would have expected. Instead, he drew a distinct shape, and was working out from there. But it wasn’t a circle or square, like he would have thought..

It was a heart?

Logan eventually abandoned his facade of reading as he watched Remus draw, expanding the heart into a head shape, adding too many eyes and a wild mane that masked the starting shape.

By the time he was done and tearing out the drawing, it was fifteen minutes into class and Logan had done nothing but stare at Remus’s hand as he drew. He had to force himself to look forward as Remus folded it and tossed it his way, immediately starting another. Once again, he began with a heart, but this time it was much smaller and ended up turning into a nose.

Why was he drawing hearts? Was that just a part of his drawing process, or was there something more to it? Did it have to do with how he would tear out every drawing and give it to him?

Should Logan respond, now that he knew this? Remus had been giving him these notes for over a month now, and he’d never said a word. Would it be rude to mention it now, especially since he’d only noticed it because he was watching over his shoulder?

He couldn’t tell his friends. Roman didn’t like his brother and Patton was wary of him as well. And he didn’t know Virgil or Ernest well enough to approach them with something as big as this, although he had a feeling they were both in on whatever game Remus was playing.

While he was pondering, the bell rang and he broke out of his trance to see Remus bouncing out of the classroom, with three more folded notes sitting in front of him. Logan shook his head, blinking rapidly to wake himself up. As he was gathering his things, he heard the teacher call his name. “Hm? Y-Yes?”

The teacher’s eyes were concerned. “I noticed you didn’t open your notebook today. Do you need me to move you to a different spot?”

“Huh? No, why would you?”

“I saw you watching Remus this class. You’re a very bright student and I want to make sure you’re not being distracted.”

Logan shook his head quickly. “No, no, I’m not. I’m just not feeling very well today, I’ll be better next week, I promise.” He couldn’t get moved now - not when he was so close to figuring out this puzzle!

The teacher hummed, accepting his answer. “Alright then. Don’t hesitate to tell me if you think you’d benefit from a seat change.”

“I won’t, thank you.” Logan agreed, rushing out of the classroom and towards his locker where Roman and Patton were waiting. He made up an excuse of needing to ask a question about an assignment, shoving the notes deeper into his pockets. They didn’t question him, letting him know that Mr. Sanders had gotten sick and that rehearsal was canceled.

Never had he been so thankful that their director had a penchant for getting sick often. Logan ran up to his room as soon as he got home and pulled the notes from his pocket, throwing them onto his desk onto the sizable pile already sitting there. He took a seat and grabbed a permanent marker, then began opening them up one by one. In each one, he looked for any heart shapes. And as he went through, he found at least one in every single drawing he had been given by Remus. In one, a drawing of a two headed dragon, the creature had heart shapes spines trailing down its back.

A heart on every single one. No two drawings were the same besides that simple fact. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before - with them traced in marker, they looked so obvious.

He wanted to ask what it meant, but he knew the answer was obvious. Now the only question was what he should do now.

Logan pushed the handdrawn notes away, reaching for his own notebook and cracking it open. It was time to plan, something he did best.

~

Tuesday, he was ready. His heart was racing the entire day, he was both excited and nervous for what he was going to do. Once he did it, he knew things would change. But after hours of planning over the weekend, he was certain it would be for the best.

Finally, it was fourth hour. Again, Remus came to class on time, and again, he started drawing for Logan. It was difficult for Logan to pay attention, but he managed to take decent notes and avoid looking over at Remus. Instead, he kept his eyes on the clock in the corner.

A minute before the bell would ring, he put his plan into action. Logan turned to a fresh page at the back of his notebook and he did his best to tear out a piece discreetly so Remus wouldn’t notice. He jotted something down quickly, and just before the bell rang he nudged it over to Remus, making sure he saw it.

The other student blinked, grabbing it slowly as if it was some kind of illusion, and unfolded it carefully. Then he got an odd look on his face, and he glanced up to see Logan smiling at him as the bell rang.

“Logan?” Remus spoke, the first thing he’d actually said to him all semester since that first day.

“Meet me outside?” Logan asked, holding his things with one arm. Remus nodded vigorously, slamming his notebook closed and swiping all of his pencils into his bag in one swoop.

“Do you mean it?” Remus exclaimed as they stepped outside and stood to the side.

“I want to understand you, Remus.” Logan clarified, looking quickly at the crumpled note in the other’s hand. “You’ve been giving me these notes all semester, and it took until last Friday to understand why.”

“You took forever!” Remus complained playfully. Logan pursed his lips.

“Why didn’t you simply tell me, if you were so impatient? That would have been much faster, and you’ve never struck me as shy.” Remus huffed at the suggestion, crossing his arms.

“Roman told me he didn’t want me ‘messing with’ his friends, so I decided that as long as you talked to me first, he can’t get mad at me!”

Logan opened his mouth to argue that flawed logic, then decided against it. “I see.”

“So, do you mean it?”

“Do I mean what?”

“Don’t mess with me! You gave me a note with a heart drawn on it Logan, I obviously mean do you like me?! Do you have a crush on me like I’ve had one on you for literally years?!”

That took Logan aback for a moment. Years? Really? “I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough to say I do, Remus.”

Remus’s face fell, but Logan wasn’t done. “I believe now is the time you offer to spend some time with me so I can learn more about you.”

“Are you... asking me to ask you on a date?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, and Remus laughed.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you! Ok, well then, will you go out on a date with me Logan?”

“Why, of course. It’s about time!”

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 4

a/n: hi I'm back! Please don’t hate me tbh. The semester is off to a crazy start for me already, I don't think Senior year is gonna go down without a fight. I’m really excited for these babies tbh. Shit’s about to get real so strap yourself in tight!!!!! 

WARNINGS: deep throating, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), restraints, general Dom-ness? 

*y/n’s point of view*

The only good thing about bougie ass dinners with industry people is playing dress up. Nothing else good could come out of a bunch of rich people throwing themselves a dinner to network and do a raffle for charity so that no one notices how pointless the dinner was. New York was notorious for them. More so than even LA maybe. But, however much you hated them wasn’t going to stop you from attending. It was important for the company that you go. You figured a little pampering session was the least that you deserved.

Somewhere along the line you stopped having to visit beauty shops with black plastic bags that contained your hair for the event. At some point a hair stylist started showing up at your apartment. You stopped paying in cash and started having Tiana pay the bill. Things had changed a lot actually. But the quality of your hair? Sis, that was a standard that must be improved upon and maintained.

One cannot imagine the power of a lacefront until it has adorned your head. Think Beyonce on stage with the jet of a thousand fans whooshing through her hair. Only without the networth or discography. Tonight you were going for something a little unorthodox, a little outside of your comfort zone. Purple to be exact. But not just any purple. It was this rich, vibrant shade of purple. The roots started out black which made it a little more natural looking and this beautiful wig was sitting at twenty-six inches long meaning you were finna be looking GWOOD. Yes with the ‘w’, too.

“Ooooooo child! Would you look at me?! Where did she come from looking so pretty? Sheesh!” You cackled at the mirror.

Tiana laughed right along with you as your stylist did some finishing touches to make sure your wig was glued for the rest of the night.

“If you’re done loving on yourself we gotta get you into your dress and make up in less than thirty minutes.”

“Oh shit, girl why didn’t you say somethin’?”

Tiana just rolled her eyes. She had said something. At least three times. Woops.

Your dress for the evening was one of those dresses that one didn’t get to eat meals in because any added weight might make the zipper burst. Usually you were a flowly type of gal, a fuck the patriarchy type of gal. But the dress was silk and free so like...just this once.

In the car to the event, you work on emails for your artists, while Tiana works on emails for you. You were probably moving in the direction of needing to hire more bodies, hell you knew your clients were pulling in enough work on their own, but it was hard to give up the duo, the dream team. You craved the intimacy of having your best friend with you always, and you weren’t ready to let anyone else invade that space yet.

“Can we leave this thing early and go get burger king or somethin’?” You whined leaning on her shoulder.

Tiana, never one to be out done, was in her own outfit for the night. It was a sparkly beaded dress with extremely intricate detailing on the bodice. She was thicker than even you were, boobs and ass and thighs galore with a tummy to match that she was just as proud of. All of this exquisite body was draped for the gods that night, the way that she deserved. Her hair remained natural for the night but tied up into these beautiful knots in a row of three on her head. She was beautiful and perfect. You loved her infinitely.

She snorted softly. “We have to stay until at least dessert has been served. But I see no reason not to hit up some food afterwards.”

“How tipsy can I be and still get away with it tonight?”

“Hmm...I think if you do more than four vodka-crans you might start asking people if their families owned slaves.”

You purse your lips in annoyance. “But that’s my favorite question! I never get to have fun. Shit.”

Post the whole hitting number one on Forbes 30 under 30 list, you had to start doing the whole red carpet thing. Cameras weren’t your favorite, and you liked the flash of them even less. However,  Black Women didn’t exactly get to the position you were in very often, and so you’d smile and pose a little if it meant some little black girl from queens sitting at home might see it and create the thought in her head that she could get there to. Cause she needed to. There needed to be more. It wasn’t even an option.

It’s on that red carpet that you see him. Why it had never occurred to you that he would be there you weren’t quite sure. But it didn’t. And you were left floundering in the middle of a million cameras as you witnessed your fuck buddy walk out in a deep maroon, red suit like the goddamn devil he was. You bit your lip as he ran his fingers through his hair and slid his hand into the pocket of his perfectly tight pants while he smoldered for the camera. Jesus.

“Bitch you are making dick sucking eyes in the middle of this red carpet! Get. It. Together.” Tianan hissed in your ear.

“I--I am so sorry. I’m together. Together. I promise.” You whispered.

You cleared your face, teeth resetting into your famous smile. Your fingers rested on your thigh and hip for that perfect pose. Maybe you settled your hair a little more over your shoulder. The photographers were impressed, as they should be, and called for a little more action. There’s no way you let your eyes roam over to see if he was staring. There was no need. You could feel the heat in which he stared, nearly felt the zipper on the back of your dress come undone with it. Hmmm. Sounds about right. Men, so obvious.

Eventually you turned to let Tiana lead you to the next section of carpet. Unfortunately there was nowhere else to turn. He was there. Hair perfectly nestled into a curly disarray. You didn’t miss the way he licked his lips as you walked closer. There’s no way the cameras missed it either.

“Y/n!” He called, the cocky asshole. “Let’s get a picture.”

Your eyes widened and you turned to Tiana for assistance, only for her to shrug.

“There’s technically no reason to say no.”

And that is how you found yourself in the middle of a red carpet, his fingers burning against your hip as you both smiled for the cameras.

“We are in public.” You hissed through clenched, but smiling, teeth. “Please act like it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of acting differently.” He grinned, fingers digging a little more firmer against your skin. “But uh, you taking this dress off in my apartment later or is that my job?”

You went to throw your hair over your shoulder again and took the time to subtly and smoothly ram your elbow into his side.

“Ouch. Dammit, y/n.”

You smiled. “I must be moving on. Have a lovely time, sweetheart.”

His eyes travel over your back and down to your ass as you walk away. Again, you don’t need to look to know it. You were a fucking dream.

The inside is just as schmoozy and annoying as ever. There’s some violin, harp type shit. There’s a cocktail hour. Half of the audience looks ready to keel over. And yet here your black ass was having to deal with it all. Rude. But like always you and Tiana made the most of it.

She led you through the throngs of people stopping you when it was necessary to shake hands and kiss cheeks. Tiana understood just as you did, that as annoying as it was, these nights were extremely necessary. The better you fit into the crowd here, the more leverage you had to buck the system in your daily job. And you loved bucking the system.

By the time the cocktail hour had ended you had all but forgotten about Shawn and that godforsaken suit. It isn’t until Tiana and you head for your table for the dinner that you catch sight of a head of hair that didn't look nearly as good as when your fingers were tugging at it. He’s leaning on the chair of some other woman, blonder and thinner and so your opposite that it must give the man whiplash. But that’s fine. It’s not like you’re exclusive, not like you’re dating at all. You don’t care at all.

There’s a glass of champagne in your hand and you keep your body turned entirely the opposite way of his, so as to not intrude on his conversation. Tiana gives you a little helpless smile as if she isn’t sure whether this means anything to your or not. But, it doesn’t.

“I’m fine.” You assure her hand reaching to touch her arm. “Now don’t let me drink more than six of these.”

“Four. We said four sis.” She snorted.

You shrugged your shoulder. “Ti, we gotta let loose every now and again. We deserve it.”

“It’s my job to make sure you don’t regret it in the morning.” She noted.

“Nah, fuck that. You work practically twenty-four, seven for me, Ti. I know we’re best friends but like...take the night off. Drink. Eat. Relax. Find someone to go home with. You deserve it, okay? I’m serious.”

Her playful grin dipped into a genuine smile. You were ride or dies for a reason.

She leaned closer and settled your hair more perfectly along your shoulder as a guise to whisper in your ear.

“It’s okay if it bothers you, ya know? Like you’re entitled to your emotions.” She breathed.

Your eyes widened over her shoulder as the only person in the world with the ability to catch you slipping caught your ass like a fish out of water.

“I--It doesn’t.” You mumbled. “I’m not bothered at all.”

“Okay. That’s okay too. I just want you to know that if there’s anyone in the world you could maybe share that with if you were feeling it, that that would be me okay?”

You smiled softly. “I know. I do. Thank you. I’ll be fine okay? Don’t worry about me.”

“So what...I’m just supposed to go to the bar? Get a drink?” She giggled.

“Yes, bitch. Get several, okay? Put it on my tab. Stop worrying about me. You worry more than my mama does and she worries enough for all of us.”

You pulled her easily into your arms for a hug and a kiss before swatting her on her ass to get her to leave. Behind every successful Black Woman is always another Black Woman itching to see her succeed. Well sometimes success needs to come with some time off. What better night to give her some?

The problem arose that once you sent Tiana off to live her best life, you were still stuck at a table with a whole bunch of people you didn’t know. Except for Shawn. Who you could definitely feel staring at you as you took a sip of champagne. You flicked your hair like an elegant curtain over your shoulder, still facing away from him. Perhaps you had forgotten the kind of guy that he was, that taking no’s or subtleties weren’t exactly in his wheelhouse. It was hot in the bedroom, and annoyingly inconvenient everywhere else.

“So are we just pretending we don’t know each other?” He asked throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Just wanna know how I’m meant to play it.”

You rolled your eyes in the opposite of his direction.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just sitting here waiting for this unseasoned ass meal to begin.”

He chuckled. “You are about as subtle as a bus to the forehead. You realize that, right?”

Unable to ignore the emotion that fluttered in your stomach, something that was unnamable to you even then, you turned to face him. His chair was directly next to yours, his arm draped casually against the back of your chair with ease. His hair was still just as perfect, if not a little more tugged into submission from the last time you saw him. He was grinning at you and eyeing your lips even now. As if it was a game that you’d lost before you’d even knew you were playing.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” You asked.

“I just couldn’t help but notice the glare you sent my way when I was talking to Natasha earlier.”

“Natasha.” You snorted. “Who the hell is Natasha?”

“Funny...She’s just an associate alright? Works for my dad.” He hummed, lips practically at your ear.

You barely sniffed in his direction.  “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Mhm. And why do you feel so inclined to assure me of that huh? Or is that you being subtle?”

He rolled his eyes at you, a playful little smirk upon his lips. You didn’t like him. You didn’t like him one bit. He drove you crazy.

The chatter of the room dimmed slightly as the food finally began to arrive to the tables. Shawn didn’t move his arm from around your chair. In fact as the waiter began to doll out plates to your table, he leaned in even more, let his lips rest against your ear like there was no one in the room but the two of you.

“Doesn’t quite matter who I talk to does it? No one’s my good little girl like you.” He whispered.

Your eyes fluttered over to him before looking aimlessly anywhere else. Your champagne glass. The silverware. The old man across from you who looked like he was wearing a toupee from the 70’s. The party moved seamlessly around the two of you, but you couldn’t help but look for eyes that might be on you. Shawn didn’t seem the least bit interested in doing anything besides driving you mad. He never seemed to be worried about much of anything. You both envied it and were annoyed by it. It didn’t stop your legs from crossing tighter, or your spine from straightening now did it?

“Not tonight.” You sighed. “Not here.”

He released a hum that you’d only ever heard in the bedroom. It was one of disapproval, one of challenge. He hated when he didn’t get his way, and this was you denying him on the thing he wanted most in that very moment. You.

“After. My place isn’t far.”

The waiter finally got to the two of you placing your dishes before you. Something that resembled a dry ass piece of chicken lay stagnant on your plate, with some weird dots of something that looked like baby food. It was enough to get your mind back on track and enough to get you more centered and less dick crazy.

“I--I can’t. Tiana and I are going to Burger King.” You shrugged.

You could see his eyes widen from your periphery giving you the time to ask the waiter for another drink. You might need it.

“Burger King...Well fuck it let’s go to Burger King then.”

It was your turn to look at him, wide eyed and confused.

“I’m sorry? What part of what I just said made you think your pasty ass was invited to my Burger King expedition?”

“I just figured we should take some time to build up our strength for some late night activities is all.”

Genuinely, how did you end up here? Where was the camera? When was the joke going to reveal itself?

“Honestly you must have a script writer or something. There is no way that shit actually comes out of your brain and through your mouth.”

The table around you was having a conversation, but it just didn’t seem to matter. Nothing really cut through when the two of you were together. Whether he was annoying you or turning you on, Shawn seemed to take up all your senses. He did it with ease and with swagger. Sometimes you didn’t even hate him for it. Sometimes you wished you hated him more.

“Have you ever thought about how much easier both of your lives would be if you argued with me less and just let me make you happy more often?” He asked.

You peered at him looking for a sign of him joking, waiting for him to say something smart, something that would make you want to slap him. But he didn’t. He just stared as if he genuinely wanted an answer. And when the time came you were helpless but to give it to him.

“Is that...is that what you’re concerned with? Making me happy?” You asked.

He stared at you for a second, eyes wide and sincere, before his shoulders dropped and he shrugged away whatever moment there might have been.

“‘Course I am darlin’. I’m concerned with keeping us both happy if you know what I mean.”

You rolled your eyes and tried to focus on cutting through the food on your plate. It was barely edible. God you hated these dinners.

“There’s nothing wrong with talking to each other when we’re not naked, yn.” He mumbled between his own bites of dry chicken.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I know that.”

“Yea? So can I come to Burger King then?” He asked.

His jawline points to you and it is as infuriating as it is comforting. You’re not quite sure how he manages that. You just know that you don't quite hate each other. Never have. You actually had periods where you got along quite well. And perhaps that’s what made you the most nervous. This potential for the two of you to get along muddied up the waters slightly. What did that mean if you were two people who fucked and got along? What did it mean if you became friendly, became friends even? You weren’t sure, and it seemed like everything that the two of you might want to avoid. So definitely don’t invite him, right?

“W--Well… Fuck. I guess you can come. But if you at any point start fucking up the atmosphere, I will promptly drop your ass off at the subway.” You warned.

“Fine. It wouldn’t be the weirdest foreplay we’ve gotten up to anyway and you know it.”

“God, kill me now.”

***

When you told Tiana to go live her best life you weren’t quite sure what that meant. But, you knew it had not entailed bringing some random ass man on your friendship Burger King run! Granted he was sexy as hell, but like...not the point. And the fact that you showed up with Shawn tagging along was not to be mentioned, no matter how many eye rolls she sent in your direction. Rude.

“Can we go to your place tonight?” Shawn hummed moving your curtain of hair to tuck gently behind your ear.

You bit your lip, warm and fuzzy from your fifth glass of champagne, and stared at him.

“Mhm. How come though?”

“You sleep better when you’re not in new places. Not that my place is really new anymore, but you still sleep better at home.”

“H--How… How could you possibly know that?”

He shrugged. “You’re not invisible to the world just cause you think you are. I can see you.”

Your heart rate picked up in your chest. You stared at him harder trying to understand how it was possible for this man to do that. He seemed so young, so inexperienced (not in the bedroom of course). You had pegged him as man child, as someone completely out of touch with reality. How dare he see you for more than you had been ready to share. How dare he look deeper.

“I don’t even understand.” You mumbled. “What?”

“At my place you wake up before your alarm. Without fail, every morning. You’re an early bird as it is, but it’s literally like your body enters fight or flight mode or something. We don’t have to talk about it if it’s not what you want. Don’t get mad at me for noticing you though. I think we’re around each other a little bit too much for that now.”

His eyes are warm and gentle and his hand somehow ended up holding your wrist. Even his grasp in gentle. He’s not teasing you, or trying to make a joke. It’s just genuine. Simple. A moment between the two of you that might complicate things if you think hard enough. So, you don’t.

“Fine.” You huffed sliding down in your seat to lean your head on his shoulder. “You don’t like the lights off when you sleep though.”

He peers down at you from above this time, and you get a little stuck on the rosiness of his cheeks.

“Excuse me?” He raised an eyebrow. “We sleep with the lights off every time.”

You shake your head playfully. “At your place you always keep the bathroom light on. At mine? You always change your clothes in my closet and then you leave the light on and the door cracked.”

He goes silent for a while.

You thought maybe you’d touched on a nerve that you weren’t meant to. But, you weren’t sure how to backtrack or talk to him about it. He had touched a nerve for you after all. One that you weren’t quite ready to share. Even with him.

His eyes stayed on his fingers as he played with his rings. You felt calm resting there against his shoulder, watching him. You thought you could fall asleep that way.

“How come you never shut it off?”

You opened your eyes, cheek resting on his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“The light. You never shut it off. You let me keep it on. How come?”

“Cause it seemed like you wanted it, seemed like it made you comfortable. Why wouldn’t I let you do something that makes you happy. It wasn’t affecting me none.”

Another stretch of silence fills the back seat of the car. Tianna and her man giggle to each other. He’s cute. You wonder how long they’ll last. Tianna was the queen of random ass long lasting relationships. She could date someone for two years after meeting them at a bar. She was kind of infectious that way.  You thought that maybe keeping her working for you was stopping her from settling down, from moving on to a new phase in her life...She’d never admit it even if you asked.

“It’s just a thing with my mum.”

“What is?” You asked curiously popping back into the conversation.

“When I was a kid, she used to keep the light on at night so that I wouldn’t get scared. And when we moved out to California, away from Canada, our house was too big. My room was super far away from hers and so she would always keep it on so that I could come find her if I needed to. It’s silly but she’s back in Canada now, and when I go home to visit she still leaves it on. Guess I just got used to it.”

You felt warm against his side. Like maybe if he wrapped his arm around you you wouldn’t mind. Like maybe his lips could touch yours and it would be okay. And when he speaks you feel yourself relax and ease completely against his side. It’s not just the vulnerability. Part of it is the sound of his voice, soft and smooth against your ear. And part of it is his nerves, the way he twitches his fingers as if you might judge him. But you won’t. Couldn’t imagine it.

“That’s not silly.” You whispered against his neck. “That’s sweet. That’s what you deserve. We keep the light on, okay?”

He looked at you like he did at the dinner. Eyes soft and gentle and searching. It’s a loaded glance, but this time you don’t look away.

“Okay. thank you. And we can stay at yours whenever you know? I--I don’t mind.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Burger King is not prepared for the four of you to walk in at eleven o’clock at night, dressed to the tee and looking for food. But the second a chicken sandwich and an onion ring enter your hand nothing else matters. You are zen. You are in pleasure. You are in heaven. You are...horny?

“What in the hell is you lickin’ your lips at?” Tianna snorted as you two sat in a whole ass booth at burger king in five thousand dollar dresses. What a world.

Shawn was ordering you another chicken sandwhich after the first had not satisfied your hunger. But watching him stand at the register with his hands in his pockets, talking to the person ringing up their order was doing something for you that even you couldn’t explain.

“Ti’ I wanna suck his dick.” You admitted softly. “I wanna suck his dick so bad I can’t stand it.”

“Oh sweet jesus.”

You bit your lip as he turned to throw a smirk at you over his shoulder. That was all she wrote.

“I have to fuck him. Like now.” You shrugged. “ I don’t make the rules.”

“Bitch the hold that man’s dick has on you I will never understand. You cannot go fucking that boy in a Burger King bathroom. That is a level of ratchet-edy that I cannot allow as your best friend.”

You turned to your best friend in your time of need. Tianna had been there your whole life. From braces to training bras to stretch marks to breaks ups. She had seen you at your worst and at your best. And most certainly she had seen you at your horniest.

“Ti, here’s the thing. Sometimes I just need someone to rail me.” You offered in your loosened state. “Sometimes? I need to be bent over and taken for everything that I’ve got. Now I’m not picky about who does it as long as they do it well. The problem...and it is a very big problem, sis...is that no one has ever had the audacity to fuck me like that firm, chiseled little beanpole can.”

“Not beanpole, bitch.” She cackled.

You licked your lips in his direction and sighed the sigh of a woman who was in desperate need of dick. What a life.

“I’m serious. I think it’s the greatest, throw my back out and leave me crying , dick I’ve ever had.” You hummed. “I want him.”

“Well let’s get some more food in your drunk ass and then he can throw your back out a little later.”

It would never make sense to Tianna. It wasn’t that you were drunk at all. In fact, with some food in your system you felt pretty fine. It was just that you really liked the way that he made you feel. And he really liked the way that he made you feel. Shawn should’ve been selfish, should’ve been cocky and underwhelming and sucky in bed. But he wasn’t. He was just...good. He was good and whatever it was that the two of you had, you kind of liked it. What was wrong with that?

Tiana got up to go meet her mans, and when Shawn got back to the table, he set your food in front of you politely. Instead of focusing on the sandwich you looked up at him. And he looked back. His fingers gripped the back of your seat and you leaned forward until you were in each other’s space, until your chin butted softly against his stomach.

“What?” He chuckled fingers grazing your jaw.

Too soft. God he was so soft.

“Mmm. Want you to kiss me.”

His eyes widened slightly and his fingers stilled.

“You do? Right now?”

You nodded. “Please?”

He looked into your eyes and his teeth sunk gently into his bottom lip. Your lips parted and you leaned forward, your heart thumping unevenly in your chest. When he kissed you, you weren’t quite sure what to expect. You thought you’d grown used to his kiss, to the feel of his teeth and his tongue. But, nerves nestled deep in your gut as you weren’t sure what kind of kiss he might give you. When his fingers trailed along the back of your neck softly before gripping it tightly. Breath wooshed past your lips as he yanked you forward to kiss you hard, fast, and deep…in a Burger King.

You gasped lifting slightly out of your chair as his tongue snaked in. Your fingers found his hair and squeezed tight, squeezed desperately at everything that he was. Suddenly your whole body was on fire with want, with need. His hands burned at your hips and you fell into him. He knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. What he always did to you. God you hated him.

“Eat your chicken and let’s go.” He huffed barely pulling back to lick his lips.

Your eyes fluttered wantonly up at him. “W--What are we doing?”

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty little mouth of yours. And then I’m gonna eat your pussy until you sob.”

He tapped lightly on your cheek before turning on his heel and heading straight for the door. If there was a chicken sandwich or a meteor, or God herself in that damn restaurant you was not finna notice.

“Bitch where is you going?!” Tiana called after you.

But there was no use. You were practically floating on air after that man like the dirty little whore you were. Thank you.

“Gotta go.” You called over your shoulder not wanting to miss the way his ass looked in those pants.

Outside the cool fall air felt like ice against your heated skin. The city was still alive and bustling, cars weaving in and out of traffic, horns honking, people booking it to their next location. Shawn stood at the edge of the sidewalk near the car that had driven you from the event, but made no move to get into the vehicle. As you stepped closer, your thighs still practically quivering, he turned to you and smiled before licking his lips with dark and clouded eyes. Fuck.

“Why aren’t you getting in the car?” You whined.

He reached for your hand to pull you closer. One second you were standing beside him and the next he had lifted you just slightly off of the ground until the soles of your shoes were nestled on top of his. His hands settled just below the curve of your ass and tugged your thighs so that your bodies were pressed together. It was some Cinderella, prince charming shit that you had never in your natural born life expected. Suddenly you were feeling far more intoxicated than the drinks had ever caused.

“I didn’t wanna leave Tianna stranded, so I called my driver. He never left the banquet; he’ll be here in fifteen.”

You nodded softly fingers resting on his shoulders at he held you against him.

“Should we...like wait inside then?”

He shook his head with a smirk that made your toes clench.

“No. I’d rather tell you all the things I’m gonna do to you the second I get you alone. We don’t need to go inside for that.”

You gulped. Bitch, honest to god gulped. You didn’t know anyone but Shaggy and Scooby was walking around gulping, but alas. What a fucking night.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You whispered.

He sighed softly letting his thumb run over your cheek in soothing motions again. Then he wrapped his arms around your back and held you so close that may have felt like more than what it was had he not began to speak lowly into your ear.

“I’m gonna keep you in your panties all night.” He hummed. “I’m gonna eat you so good you’ll be aching for me to rip them off, but I won’t. I’m gonna lick you through them. I’m gonna make you cum against my face with them on. I’m gonna lick you clean with them on. I’m gonna drive you absolutely fucking wild if I can help it.”

You swore your knees gave out. But it didn’t matter because his fingers were digging deep into your hips to keep you upright. It wasn’t a sexual embrace. It was barely even romantic. This of course only made it hotter that he was talking to you in the manner that he was, that anyone might walk by at any moment and would have no idea the things he was saying it. You got wet just thinking about it.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He asked. “Gonna let me make you feel good?”

“Y--Yes. Yes, sir. I promise I’ll be so good for you. Only wanna be good for you.”

“Yea? Gonna let me slip my cock between this pretty lips?”

His thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you moaned embarrassingly loud.

“Shit.”

He leaned forward to kiss your forehead another juxtaposition of emotions and actions that really were sending your body through the ringer. How was he real?

“I’m gonna fuck your throat until you beg me to stop.” He said calmly.

The car pulled up at that exact moment but you were frozen to your spot. Shawn was completely unbothered by the existential crisis that he’d left you in, and simply lifted your feet off of his to open the door. As if it was just a tuesday night or some shit. The audacity.

“Sweetheart let’s not keep Jake waiting, aye? It’s rude.” He murmured in regards to his driver.

Surely there had to be a level where this stopped. Surely, it was all getting to be too much. This man seemed to have you wrapped around his larged, perfectly skilled finger. Yes. Too much. Needs to stop. Like yesterday.

“Okay.” You sighed and shuffled your fine ass into the car.

Welp. Maybe another day.

***

“Are the ropes too tight?” He breathed against your neck, lips trailing delicately over the skin.

You hummed. “No. Feels good.”

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.”

He steps in front of you, his body long and lithe and taking up all of your senses. His thighs flex with ease and that’s before you even get to the sharp jut of hip that leads to a perfectly pointed V towards his dick. He’s already hard and already ready for you to make him feel good. Because that’s what it’s about. Mutual pleasure. You from giving and him from receiving, and within that giving you everything that you could ever ask for. Your thong is soaked just thinking about it.

“You’re not gonna be able to speak obviously, so I need you to tap me three times really quick if you want me to stop okay?” He asked eyes wide and sincere.

You nodded. “Okay.”

“No I’m serious. If it starts to hurt, I need you to stop me. If it start feels less than good at any point you tell me to back the fuck off. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Shawn, I understand.” You assured him.

He makes you practice it through the ropes around your wrist. Only once you’re comfortable and he’s comfortable does he step closer. Your wig now gone and in its place is your hair pulled tightly into a bun at the back of your head, there’s not much for him to grab onto. That doesn’t seem to bother Shawn in the slightest.. His fingers reach for your cheeks and jaw instead, gentle and playful at first and he tilts your head to the right angle for him. When his cock slips into his hand, and he lets the head rest between your lips, the sound that comes out of him is so tantalizing you nearly cum right there.

“So pretty for me, sweetheart.” He groaned. “Go ahead and get it wet.”

Your tongue laves at the thick fleshiness of his head. He won’t let you move closer to get more, won’t push forward at all yet, so all you can use is your tongue. Surprisingly you love the power that it gives you. The power of being in control of his pleasure from beneath him. It’s an intricate play at the power dynamics that the two of you constantly played with. But, you like it. You like it a lot. You let the tip of your tongue trace lazily at his slit and notice the way his eyes flutter close at the feeling.

“Fuck. Y/n, yes. That’s it.”

He steps a little closer and finally lets his dick slip between your lips. Your tongue continues running beneath the underside, fingers wrapping instinctively around one of his ankles to anchor you more to this moment, this pleasure. The second he gives you the leeway, you wrap your lips tightly around him and suck. You weren’t kidding back at Burger King, you were more than prepared.

“Goddamn, your fucking mouth. You’ll be the death of me you know that?”

You slurped a little nosily at the amount of his length that he had given you, wanting to show your enthusiasm as an answer to his question. He steps a little closer now, and fills you more.

His hands come to rest on your head, one directly on top, and the other at the bottom of your jaw. Your eyes finally lock and his lips fall open in lust as he lets his cock slap against your tongue.

“I’m gonna start to move now. I’m gonna give you more and more until my whole dick is in your mouth. You know our safety signal right?”

You nod eagerly. Desperately. He makes you practice the signal again just in case. Three taps for STOP. Two for slow down a little. One for I’m so happy with this.

The first time he puts his whole dick in your mouth it isn’t even the feel of him that makes your entire body pur. Instead it’s the sound of him whining, His legs tremble and his eyes flutter shut. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. And you want more of it. Crave it even. So you let him fill you. You let your throat relax and your tongue flatten. You breathe through your nose and you don’t dare move as he slowly begins to move his hips. It has its intended effect on him, but even more than that is the effect it has on you. Your pussy throbs indecently as his balls tap your chin. The rops tighten as you stretch to lean closer, to be closer. His mouth parts and he moans for you. It’s euphoria.

“Jesus. Your mouth feel so damn good.” He grunted.

His thrusts got tighter, more pointed until the sound of your dick between your lips was lewdy and filthy. You welcome the spit that dripped from your mouth, yearned for the way it made him gasp and plead for you. Was he in control? Maybe. But who was really steering the pleasure? You were. And you fucking loved every second of it.

When he pulls from your throat you gasp and cough for breath, but not without seeing the way the tip of his cock was red and angry and leaking. It flapped against your lips and glistened in the light of his bedroom. Even when you were still fighting to breathe, you couldn’t help but want to suck it again.

“I--I’m not gonna fucking last.” He huffed squeezing at the base to stave off his orgasm.

You couldn’t help but pout at the way he got to touch himself while your fingers were tied. Couldn’t stand that your lips weren’t on him anymore.

“Don’t need to. Don’t want you to.” You whined. “Come back to me.”

The look that he gives you is one of heat and lust and something that’s maybe a bit tender. He cups your jaw again and bites his lip like he’s conflicted. About what you haven’t got a clue. Before you can think too much he’s thrusting himself into you again, but this time with more power, more recklessness. It burns slightly at your throat. The sounds get louder, more dirty, and so does the way he cries out for you. It’s desperate and needy and so fucked out and GOD why won’t he touch your pussy yet?!

“‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum down your throat.”

Your fingers gripped desperately at his calf, mouth stretch wide beyond your limits and he gagged you repeatedly with his cock. The fight for air was long and hard, but the way he trembled on his fucking toes for you was everything. It was power and it was beauty and it just made you want to be good for him. You just needed to please him. Simply because you could. Better than anyone fucking else could.

He cums with his fingers wrapped tightly around the back of your skull holding you against his crotch as he emptied himself into your throat. When he pulls out his head taps your lip a final time and each of you groan for different reasons. You for the air that fills your lungs, and him for the orgasm that seems to rock him to his very core.

“Shit. Shit y/n. That was amazing.” He whined.

You smile softly with wet eyes and a wet lips and a bit of a sore throat.

“I know.” You hum.

He rolled his eyes playfully at you and moves to his bedside table for the bottle of water he left for you there. Shawn quickly dropped to his knees along side you and lifted the water bottle to your lips to let the cool water trickle down your throat.

“Are you okay?” He checked. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No. Feel good. A little sore. But good.”

“Yea? Well you were amazing. You’re always amazing.”

It fills you with a lightbeam of happiness that is too much to deal with it. You felt like you were on cloud nine. It was one thing for you to know you were good, and another entirely for him to agree. Another thing entirely for him to praise you so endlessly and feverently. It made you feel so damn good.

He untied your wrists and rubbed his thumbs soothingly into your skin. His lips track down yours and it’s just as good as it was at Burger King, just as hunger filled and desperate.

“‘M gonna get you on the bed okay?” He mumbled against your mouth, still pressing heated kisses to your skin. “Your hands aren’t tied anymore so you can do whatever you want with them while I’m eating you out. You can tug on my hair. You can grab at me in whatever way you need. There’s just one thing you can’t do.”

“What’s that?”

“You can’t push me away. I’m gonna make you cum. You’re gonna want me to stop. But I won’t. And I need you to be good for me. I need you to take it. Okay?”

“O--Okay.” You sighed, thighs squeezing together again. “Okay. I’ll be good.”

He smiled and gripped your chin. “My good girl. Come.”

There is nothing like the feeling of him between your legs. His body is warm and hard and heavy. He roots you to the bed and makes you feel more present than ever. His lips and tongue are hot against your already flushed skin as he kisses and nibbles his way along your thighs and stomach. With your hands now free to roam as they please you can’t seem to get enough of him. The softness of his curls between your fingers. The bulge of muscle at his shoulder blades. The dip in the back of his spine. And the entire time he’s doing just what he promised. His tongue soaked at the fabric of your thong, pushing it against your clit with languid little strokes. If you thought that your underwear being in the way would make it less intense, you couldn't have been more wrong. The fabric was silk and it added another texture against your skin as he sucked and prodded at you. Not even fifteen minutes later and your legs had found their way around his back, toes nudging that divet in the small of it again.

“S--Shawn.” you whined pitifully. “Please. More.”

He peered up from between your thighs with the grin of the devil. His lips were already red and swollen. You simply needed more contact.

“I’ll give you more when I’m ready honey. Be good for me.” He cooed.

He sucks a mark into the jut of your lip and runs his tongue there to soothe the flesh before he dives back in.

It’s absolutely torturous. From the foreplay of his dick down your throat, to the absolute hell of his teeth on your thighs, you were buzzing. The need that seem to build and throb from your core was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You’d never craved being touched, had never needed it this badly. But, here Shawn was constantly pulling emotions and feelings that no one had ever been capable of getting out of you.

He slurped loudly at your pussy through your thong, constantly flicking the fabric to tap anxiously at your clit. When your orgasm started to build, your fingers fisted into his hair, thighs clenched. You pushed closer to his mouth and cried out widely for him, for his tongue, for anything that meant he might take you over the edge. And over the edge you went.

“Fuck. Ohmygod--fuck yea!”

He let you grind your pussy against his face. Let you ride that high like you rode his mouth. And when the orgasm began to ebb and your clit throbbed again, he leaned onto his elbows and grabbed at your ass to pull you even closer against his face. He wasn’t done. He’d barely even fucking started.

“SHAWN!”

He tugged the thong out of the way and licked you clean, ran his tongue along every crevice and nerve ending. When he traces the very tip of your clit with the tip of his tongue your legs close like venice fly trap around his head. Your fingers thrust into his hair and you let out a moan that you would be embarrassed of in broad daylight. There’s just no way in hell he’s got you cumming again this fast.

He got up onto his knees, fingers digging deep into your thighs and wrestled you down onto his expensive ass bed. By the time he comes up for air, your legs were literally trembling and you heart soared so fast in your ears that it was all you could hear.

“This pussy was fucking made for me.” He grunted licking his lips. “Come here.”

“W--wait, I’m so sensitive.”

He paused, fingers still gripping you just tightly enough.

“Color?”

You bit your lip. “Green.”

“You’re sure?”

You nodded softly and leaned back onto your elbows as he made his way between your thighs once again. He tugged your thigh over his shoulder and settled onto his side to make himself more comfortable. Your eyes met from between your legs as he pressed a kiss to one of your pussy lips.

“You make me wait again and I’ll slap your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit tomorrow okay?” He murmured.

Your fingers reached instinctively for his hair now, tightening into the curls as you threw your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck. Okay. Okay, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Mmmm. Good girl.” He hummed against your core.

He starts to lick and suckle at you again ignoring the ways that your legs shake at this point. His hands are dancing on your thighs and gripping at the flesh so good it makes you squirm all the more. It really does just feel too good to be true. His tongue is like a sinful miracle and you’ve been fooling around long enough for him to know your body inside and out. From the way he bumps your clit with his nose, to the way his tongue traces around the skin in tight little circles. Every part of it feels infinitely special. When his fingers slip inside of you and curve towards the darkest part of your being, your hips start to flail again. He only smiles up at you in satisfaction.

“So sensitive for me. Wanna make you cum again. Can you cum for me sweetheart?”

Your back arched hips pushing closer and closer towards him as he filled you up and rubbed roughly at your gspot.

“Oh. Oh my god. Oh my god, Shawn! Please. Please make me cum.”

He pushed at the thigh that was over your shoulder and spread you further so that his fingers could do their magic. He rubbed deeper and deeper into you, fingers curving so that your body lost all control. This orgasm starts in your belly, warm and firey before it spread through every nerve ending. When you cum it’s like an eruption. Your screams reach new octaves. The squelching sound of Shawn’s plunging fingers meeting the thick, sticky liquid from your heat. It’s all too much. Too too much.

“HOLY FUCK!”

He pulled his fingers from within you and let your body drop back down to the bed spread. Your heart raced in your chest and your legs felt like jello. You could barely breathe and Shawn thought it was the funniest shit in the world. He peered down at you with hungry eyes and the cockiest fucking grin in the world and your pussy had the audacity to twitch again. What a whore.

He climbed onto your body, thighs bracketing either side of your torso. His dick was red and leaking again, your body literally shivering as he thrust lazily against your stomach.

“‘M gonna cum on your tits.” He whimpered fisting himself in his palm again. “Is that okay?”

He pumped at his shaft, curls flopping beautifully along his forehead with every thrust of his hips. Shawn was a dream. A sweaty, trembling dream that made your heart race and your toes curl. In the moment with his thighs tenses on either side of you, and his lips parted and swollen, denial was not an option. You ached for his pleasure, for his reward. You craved it.

“Yes. Yes!”

Your hands grasped at the flesh of your boobs lifting them to be pressed together. Your nipples stood erect and rock hard, and this only seemed to spur him on even more. The best part of Shawn’s position above you was the ability to watch him fall apart. Your dom, for all of his charisma and perfected authority, crumbled when he was near orgasm. It was in those few seconds that you got to see him in his most vulnerable state. Whiny and red faced and just as overwhelmed as you. And god did you love every second of it.

He shoved up on his knees and groaned so low that you felt it in your own chest. The head of his cock barely poked out from his fist as he fell over the finish line, cum spurting out in thick long ropes along your body. He gasped and heaved in elation hunching in on himself too. You reached without thinking to take his cock into your mouth, cleaning the last remnants of his orgasm with your tongue. When you pulled back with a nice plop for added measure, he collapsed beside you on the bed. Both of you were absolutely done for after a total of five orgasms split between the two of you. There was simply nothing else for you to give.

“F--Five minutes.” He gasped from beside you. “Five minutes and I’ll go get the washcloth.”

It seemed like a fair trade off. You couldn’t even feel your pussy to let him clean you up after all. What was another five minutes?

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[professor-maka]

#14 pls! :D “I come to the library every day to ‘study’ but really I’m just watching Netflix over your shoulder and I’m really invested in this series and the day we’re supposed to be watching the season finale you’re not there and I??? Feel personally betrayed??”

Ask and you shall receive. ❤️ I hope you like!

Thanks to @sahdah and @macabremermaid for the eyes.

—

“HBO and Chill”

She can’t afford HBO, not making her own way through school, so Maka had never really worried what shows it airs. Why pine for what you can’t afford?

But then, he’d changed all that, the white haired kid who goes to the library to study every Sunday night, like clockwork. Sometimes he comes at 6, and sometimes he rolls in at 8,but he’s always there, just like her. But unlike her, he always takes a break to stream on his laptop.

The first night, Maka had been pissed—sure it isn’t a quiet study floor, but who streams in thelibrary without headphones? She’d been fuming but also curious. Game of Thrones? She’d read the books—had wished she could watch the series—but alas!

Fuming gave way to interest, and instead of confronting him like she thought about during the first 15 minutes, Maka had found herself watching over his shoulder as hequeued up two more episodes that night, and, reading abandoned for the evening, she found herself wondering when the hell she was going to get to watch more.

Maka had been damn near lowering herself to ask her shithead papa for the gift of HBO, sulking in the library as she did her reading and itched for more in the saga of Starks andLannisters, when her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of someone moving in to occupy the table in front of hers, the same table she claims every Sunday. She nearly gasped when she realized it was him again, the white hairedboy from the previous Sunday, the one with HBO, the same one she’d seen around campus and in the back of a few of her classes, silent as as stone.

Maybe he’d watch again, she thought. She hoped. Although, Maka reminded herself, he’d surely be ahead by now and she has always hated skipping episodes. Disappointment hadflooded her as she poked her nose back into her book and there was nothing but yawning quiet, the scratch of her pen, the click of his keys. And then, she heard it. The theme song! And it was… the next episode!

She barely pretended to read that time as he watched three more episodes straight.

That had been months ago, early in the semester, and now, the semester is nearly at an end and so is the series and she can’t wait! Because by some miracle, he clearly only watches at the library on Sunday nights, right when she’s there to see it, and Maka has become invested.

The finale is tonightand she isn’t even pretending to study, she’s so wound. She needs to know what happens. The show has far outpaced the books and waiting is torture,but Maka knows he’ll be here by 9 to livestream like he has been for weeks.Well, maybe she should at least make a stab at studying. Sure she’s got As sofar in her classes, but finals still matter.

Nine o’clock hits and he’s not there. He’s never not there, not all semester, so where is he?

Ten PM hits and she’s inthe first stage of grief, mourning the loss of her livestream. But surely he’llshow and stream, even if it’s a little late. Eleven hits and with it comes the anger. Why now? Why tonight? How dare he string her along through 8 seasons only to deny her the finale!

Fists clenched, Maka makes a decision. Maybe not the most rational decision, but she’s more than a little desperate. Apparently, laptop boy is friends with Blake—she knows because she’d seen them playing one on one together as she passed the courts afew times—so she can find out where he lives or his number or something and—and—

Well, she doesn’t know, but desperate times, desperate, desperate times.

Clicking Blake’s speed dial on her cell, Maka rolls her eyes at his answers of, “Yo, this is your godspeaking, whatcha want?” That being a god brother makes him her actual god ishis personal joke; only he finds it funny.

“I need—a favor.” She sounds more sheepish than she means to, feels silly, almost hangs up, but—

“Sure, shoot, anything for my favorite minion.”

“Uh, so, eh—“ she stammers through his guffaw at her inability to spit it the fuck outalready. But she’s Maka Albarn and if she’s anything, she’s brave, so she pushes on. “That, uh, weird kid with the white hair you play basketball with—“

“Who, Eater? What, you got a thing for him or—“

“Nooo, he just—wait, his name is Eater?”

The guffaw is louder this time. “Nah, not his name name, it’s just what I like to call my newest minion, keep up.”

“And I thought BlackStar was bad,” she mutters, face flaming. Eater. Knowing Blake, she tells herself she doesn’t want to know.  

“Yeah, whatever, anyway, Maks, what do you want with my boy Soul? Never pegged you for being into the emo type but, like, no judgement.”

Well, Soul isn’t so bad a name. She finds she likes it. Much better than Eater, anyway.

“I’m not into anyone.” She manages not to snap even if she’s seething in mortification. “He—uh—forgot something at the library and I wanted to try to get ahold of him to—“

“Yeah, yeah, alright,I’ll text you his contact, gotta go, they set up the beer pong table, laterloser.”

Black Star will be BlackStar. At least he texts her the contact, and of course it’s under Eater. Figures, but whatever, she just needs to find out why the hell he ditched her.

She’s already pressed to call and let it ring several times when she realizes all at once she has absolutely zero business bothering him. Because, sure, he’d strung her along like a kitten with a string, laying out all 8 seasons before her like a buffet of medieval shenanigans, but it’s not like he’d done it on purpose.

The end call button gets pushed so fast it might have been the key to stopping the apocalypse. Really, it sort of is. Maka drops her phone on the table like a hot potato and lets the shame wash over her—how could she let sensationalized, bawdy medieval television get such a grip on her?

Her phone vibrates and she scoops it up, craving a distraction from her own silliness.

uh do i no u —the text reads.

No, he certainly doesn’t. Maka has no idea what to do but she can’t not answer, it would be rude, so she types back:

Not really. Blake gaveme your number.

ummm okay why — he responds after a pause.

Why? She can’t exactly tell the truth but she doesn’t like lying, either.

I was worried when you didn’t show up at the library. You’re always there on Sundays at the table infront of mine. Sorry.

It’s the truth, just not all of it. Because she does feel like they’ve bonded over Game ofThrones watching it together every week, and she’s overheard phone calls with his parents and his brother and she’s gotten to know quite a lot about him. Gods, she feels like a stalker, but— but—! He’d invaded her library time, not the other way around! And he’s the one who breaks rules to talk on his cell—he’s lucky she hasn’t reported him! And—

The vibration startles her out of her spiral.

maka shit im sorry im sick running 104 was gonna go set my alarm but slept thru its the finale im sorry gimme a sec ill b there

What. The hell.

He knows her name? And that she’s been watching? And—he’s sick—and—

Don’t you move! 104 is dangerous where do you live? I’ll be right there.

Even as she thoughtlessly hits send she regrets it because what is she doing? He’s going to block her or ignore her or tell her to fuck off, or what if he’s theone who’s actually a stalker—

Vibration. It’s an address, for an apartment complex next to campus.

Be right there. Her fingers send it out before she can even think—he knows her name, he sent her his address, maybe he’s a stalker serial killer?

But she’d called him. Also like a stalker. So it makes no sense and what even is she doing with her life?

For about half a second, Maka considers blocking his number and going home, never to enter the library on a Sunday night again. But he’s running a 104 fever; he might need help!And—she’s not a coward and she’s fully capable of kicking ass if she must. AND—the Game of Thrones finale is at his beck and call.

That’s the clincher, so she packs her things and makes her way across campus. It’s nearly midnight, so Maka keeps to well lit walks, and it isn’t long before she’s at his door. She knocks and hears coughing and shuffling and then he’s opening the door, looking bedraggled in plaid pajama pants and a ratty band tee, dark smudges under his eyes, his pale hair sticking up every which way. Well, the last part isn’t sofar off from his normal, anyway, but he looks sort of pathetic with his fuzzy blue blanket over his shoulders. Endearingly so.

“Uh, so,” she says, fidgeting with the strap of her bag on her shoulder and looking at his mouth to avoid his eyes.

“You can—uh—come in.” He sounds nervous even past the unusual scratchiness of his voice, but steps back, so she steps in. He closes the door behind her and she notices he’s got a nest of blankets on his big leather couch. She’s pretty sure she can hear an episode of Chopped somewhere in the background.

“Lay down.” Maka finally takes charge, tired of them both standing so awkwardly. “You have tea?”.

He just blinks at her for a minute, shakes his head, then looks between the couch and the kitchen. “Uh, sure, I can make—“

“Nooo!” she cuts himoff. “For you. I’ll make it.”

“Maka, you don’t have to—“ it’s the first time she’s ever heard him say her name and it startles her, especially because she sort of likes it.

“I know, but I want to.Help, I mean. So lay down.” She doesn’t give him the chance to protest, just walks into his kitchen and begins opening cabinets.

“Furthest cabinet on the left,” she hears his voice call out from the living room. “Cups in the dishwasher.”

She finds the tea (loose leaf! She doesn’t expect that!) and cups and sets the electric kettle on the counter below the tea cabinet to boil.

Several minutes later,she’s got two steaming cups of green tea with an herbal blend, and she walks them out to the living room. Soul has neatened the couch and is sitting up, leaving room on the other side. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring softly. Poor boy looks pathetic, flushed and droopy. Maka sets down a tea cup on the coffee table in front of him, sets the second on the other side, and sits across from him on the couch. She means to let him rest but it’s so awkwardsitting with a sleeping not quite stranger that she clears her throat nervously.

Startling awake, he looks at her, blinks, then seems to recall the situation,

“Uh. So. Wanna watch the finale?”

It’s at least half of why she’s here, so she nods, still feeling awkward and out of place, yet absolutely determined.

They end up commenting to each other through the episode and it’s nice. Why haven’t they ever watched it together like this? Not just Maka spying and pretending not to, but actually just—together? She could have asked and sat with him but she’s been silly.

It’s a regret, but as the episode ends, they’re both too full of feelings and ideas for it to last, and they talk about the finale and the series for a good hour before she stifles a yawn and he lets out a huge sneeze and she remembers who he is and where they are.

“So um—thanks for letting me come watch.”  She’s fidgeting again, this time with the hem of her hoodie.

“‘’Course. Thanks for giving a shit and taking care of me.” His smile is wide and genuine and she could maybe melt which is—silly for a lot of reasons, really—but she also remembers—

“How do you know my name?” she blurts.

“Uh.” A nervous hand musses his hair further. “We’ve had like four classes together and you—sort of stand out.”

He’s already pink with fever but his skin goes red and—is he blushing? She blushes back at the thought.

“Oh, yeah, okay, I just—uh—didn’t realize you noticed me or anything, especially at the library.”

Gods this is embarrassing.

“You weren’t exactly subtle,” his voice is gruff as he looks at his hands.

“But—“ she stammers. “Then why didn’t you just ask me to watch with you if you knew?”

“Thought you’d say no.” His eyes are still down though they flick her way for an instant.

Would she have?

Maybe. In the wrong mood. She can be stubborn, she knows. But still.

“Well, since I’m here, you were wrong.”

“Yeah, I caught that. Guess it’s too late now, anyway. Show’s done.”

It is, isn’t it.

The thought of giving up her Sunday study tv night makes her inexplicably sad. Especially since she’s here during summer and knows he is, too, from one of his calls with his brother.

“You have Hulu?” Inspiration strikes.

“Er—Uh—yeah?” He looks confused.

“Because I don’t, and I’ve been dying to watch Hamdmaid’s Tale.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’d be—cool. We could start tonight—I mean—“

“Yeah, sounds good. You clearly shouldn’t be alone with that fever and I don’t have a final until Tuesday!”

“Cool,” he repeats, calling up the Hulu menu on the television.

For her part, Maka can’thelp a slight satisfaction at having made a new friend who can afford to stream.

[thetheatregang]

Insomnia - Chapter Four!

Happy Valentine’s Day y’all! Chapter Four is my favorite chapter yet so I hope you all love it! Chapter’s 1-3 are now available to read both in my fanfiction tag on my blog, and on my new AO3 page!

Chapter Five is coming sooner rather than later! I’m actually getting more and more excited about this fic as I go! I hope you all like it! PLEASE SEND FEEDBACK! I really woul love to her what you guys think! I’m single this Valentine’s Day so you are all my Valentines this year! <3

Ricky’s POV

“Soooooo, are you excited to see your giiiiirrrrrrllllllfriend?” Lizzie teases at the breakfast table.

“She’s not my girlfriend, and yes. I’m excited to see all my friends, Elizabeth. Now let’s get you to school. Your dad’s gonna be picking you up today. He put a note in your blue folder so don’t forget to give it to Mrs. Davidson, okay?” I remind her, as I check all of my bags to make sure I packed everything. 

Today’s the day, I’m heading to Salt Lake for Opening night. Today I get to see all of my friends for the first time in over three months. God I’m nervous. 

I drop Lizzie off and head to the airport. My school has the day off for a professional day, so I caught an early flight. That way I can get home and take a nap while Big Red’s at school. 

My phone buzzes. I look down hoping it’s Nini. It’s not.

MOM: Have a safe flight! C u Sunday night. I love u, xx Mom.

ME: Love you too mom! I’ll text when I land.

I haven’t heard from Nini in days. Not since my last message. Maybe this is a stupid idea. Maybe she doesn’t actually want to see me. Was she just being nice? God I’m so stupid. Maybe I shouldn’t even go. 

Just as I turn around to head back and get an Uber, my phone buzzes again, this time an incoming call from Chloe Garcia. 

“Hey Chlo, what’s up?” I ask, answering nervously.

“I was just making sure that you’re actually gonna get on that plane, mister!” She chuckles. I’ve only known Chloe for three months yet she knows me enough to know I’m second guessing my whole entire plan. 

“I don’t know, Chloe. What if she doesn’t actually want to see me? What if she just said ‘can’t wait to see you’ to be nice?” I complain. 

“Like how people say ‘nice to meet you’ to total strangers even though you don’t really know if it’s nice to meet that person?” She snorts. She’s referring to the day we met. 

“Chloe Garcia, this is Richard Bowen! You and him have similar schedules so you’re gonna be his peer mentor for the semester. Be nice.” Principal Stewart tells the lemon haired girl as he walks back to his office. 

“Chloe!” She sticks out her hand. I shake it.

“It’s actually not Richard, it's Ricky. Ricky Bowen,” I introduce myself. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” She starts, then sighs. “Well, it seems nice. I don’t really know you yet, you could be a serial killer. Are you a serial killer, Richard Bowen?” She ponders aloud. 

“Um… no? I’m just a skateboarder from Utah… And again, call me Ricky” I chuckle. 

“Okay. So Utah eh? So what are you doing in the Windy City then?” She questions. 

“My parents got divorced, and my mom got a job out here. Plus my gi- ex girlfriend was supposed to move- It’s a long story.” I stop talking, realizing that I’m totally rambling. 

“Well I can’t wait to hear it, Not Richard Bowen…” She says as we walk to our first period class. 

“Just go, Ricky, you’ll be fine!” She says before hanging up on me. 

Just then, my flight number is called. I guess there’s no turning back. Not now.

I sit on the plane, thank god I get a window seat. I pull out my phone, putting it in airplane mode.

On the plane, I decide it would probably be a worthwhile idea to actually watch the movie Grease, given that I barely know anything about the show, and i’m supposed to sit through a whole performance of it tomorrow. 

It’s nearly noon when my flight lands. Thank God I took a nap on the plane or I’d be a Zombie right now. 

“Hey bud!” My dad says, greeting me as I arrive at baggage claim. 

“Hey Dad!” I reply, hugging him. I pick up my east high duffel bag and head out to his car. 

“How’s your mom?” He asks, on the drive home. He always asks about her. I can tell he misses having people around the house. 

“Mom’s good. She wishes she could’ve come with, but work is crazy right now, plus she volunteered to watch Lizzie this weekend so Todd can go out on business...” I tell him. My dad has really grown to like Todd. Ever since they became Facebook friends, they realized that they actually have a lot in common. 

“That’s good. I bet Lynne loves having a little girl around. She always wanted a daughter,” He sighs. “How’s Lizzie doing? You guys getting along?” 

“Yeah, were super tight, actually, I drive her to school some mornings and we listen to the radio while she bugs me about my love life!” I laugh, checking the time on my phone: 12:15.

“You wanna grab a bite and then you can get some rest before you go see your friends?” He asks. 

“Sounds like a plan!” I tell him.

After we eat, I crash for a couple hours. It's not until I hear a couple dings from my phone that I realize just how long I’ve slept.

I look at my phone: 

Incoming Call: BIG RED 

“Hello?” I answer, sounding a little tired.

“Hey bud! We’re having final dress rehearsal tonight, so I might be home kinda late. What time does your flight get in?” Big Red asks excitedly. 

I can tell that he’s hype for the show. This will be his first time running lights for a show in the actual auditorium, he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. 

“Um, around 9ish?” I lie. I told Big Red that I wouldn’t be getting in till late, so that I can surprise him when he gets home from rehearsal.

Since I did get in a little earlier than expected, I may head over to the school now and surprise everyone. 

“Cool. Can’t wait to see you!” He says happily. 

“Me too, gotta go finish packing, see you later bud!” I reply, hanging up. 

I grab my skateboard and head to the school. The secretary hands me a visitors badge, it’s weird being called a “visitor” to the school. 

“Guess mine is not the first heart broken, my eyes are not the first to cry, I'm not the first to know there's, just no getting over you…” I can hear Nini’s beautiful voice from down the hall. 

I sneak into the auditorium. I see her singing on that stage. She looks so beautiful. She’s the epitome of Sandy and her combination of innocence and beauty. That’s when the flashbacks start. 

Here goes… "I don't get it, Troy. What kinda spell has this elevated IQ temptress girl cast that suddenly makes you wanna be in a musical?" 

I don't know. Maybe it's the way Gabriella always had your back. And maybe you can't stop beating yourself up for totally blowing it with her.

And look, Troy, even if you never said the L-word to Gabriella, 'cause that's, like, not even a word your parents say to each other… anymore… That doesn't mean that you don't… Maybe it just means you were waiting for the right time to say it… So that everyone could hear it… 

So that she could.

“Ricky?” A voice pulls me out of my flashback. “What are you doing here?”

I look to see Gina Porter standing in the doorway next to me, in full Rizzo costuming. 

“Gina! Hey!” I smile and pull her in for a familiar hug. “I caught an earlier flight and thought I’d sneak in and get myself a sneak peek at what I’m in for tomorrow night!” I tell her. 

“That’s amazing! So why do you look like you’re hiding?” She smirks. And she’s right. I was kinda hiding. 

But why? I want to see my friends. I want to see Big Red, and Gina, and… Nini.

The music slows down. 

“But now there's no way to hide, since you pushed my love aside, I'm outta my head hopelessly devoted to you… hopelessly devoted to you… Hopelessly devoted to y- Ricky?” 

The music stops.

[jenosweave]

college!kun

FINALLY A KUN REQUEST!! this is one of my favorites please enjoy and don’t let me flop!!

let’s start w the basics…

major: linguistics

minor: comparative literature

extracurriculars: book club

other: literally writing his own novel??

school life

kun is such a good student

he always does his work on time and tries to get ahead when he can

he’s a plug too

he'll even do his friends’ readings and summarize it for them if they have a particularly busy week

he doesn’t allow himself to be used though

he just loves and appreciates his friends so much and wants to help them be successful when there are things they cant control that can get in the way of that

kun really enjoys his studies

his required courses are really stimulating and keep him on his toes

he loves leaving class every day feeling like he’s one step closer to understanding where language comes from and why we communicate the way we do

kun’s passion for linguistics sprouted from his adoration of reading

he’s a member of every book he could find on campus

he firmly believes the more you read, the more perspectives you’re able to see, which in turn, makes you a generally more enlightened and compassionate person

kun loves reading and language so much that he decided to just write his own book over the summer for fun

he sent a “very rough draft” to a local publisher

just for experience

and to get him used to rejection in case he ever wants to seriously pursue a career in writing someday

but now he’s fucked because

they actually liked it??? so he kind of has a book deal now??

which he was not expecting at all

there were a lot of comments for him to address as he expected

and the first one he decided to deal with was the lack of a love interest for his protagonist

except there’s only one problem with that

he has no idea how to successfully write for a love interest

so he does what any normal young writer would do to get inspiration

and goes to the university’s monthly speed dating event in the quad

early stages

you had been “too single for too long,” according to your best friend

and the only way you could get them to shut up about it was if you attended one of the school’s speed dating nights

and you decided it was worth the trouble, and made your way to the quad to get this over with

you had exactly two and a half minutes with every person you’d “date”

and for the most part, those two and a half minutes couldn’t go by fast enough

after talking to other students who only cared about football, trucks, and battlestar galactica, you were about ready to up and go

but your second to last “date” changed your mind

his name was kun

“alright this is gonna go by quick, so i’m gonna take the reigns if you don’t mind,” he spoke

he was oddly productive

you nodded

“great!’ he smiled. “any hobbies?”

“well, i love to read an-”

“reading? me too! what genres are you into?”

a wide smile stretched across his smooth face and his pupils dilated noticeably UGH CUTIE

“i mean, i like fantasy, historical fiction, biographies, science fi-”

“no way! me too!” he interrupts. “i just like all books so much!! i’m writing my own actually!”

you thought that was mighty impressive and asked him what his book is about

and he told you he can’t disclose that information because of his publishing deal

and youre like,,,, wA i T.. PUBLISHER?? THAT’S SO COOL!!

and he goes, “thank you! maybe you’d like to come and read it sometime when it’s finished.”

you couldn’t help but blush and turn your head away

and that’s when you noticed you only had ten seconds left on the stopwatch

you hurriedly seized the pen the event organizers had left on the desk and grabbed kun by the wrist, taking him by surprise and causing a slight gasp to escape his lips

you messily scribbled your number onto his forearm

and as soon as you had finished writing your digits, the timer rang

as you both departed from the table, kun shouted at you from a distance “how am i supposed to read this chicken scratch?!”

you shot him a smile playfully and shouted back

“text me!”

you didn’t receive a text that night

or the night after

but the night after that, your phone dinged as soon as you hopped out of the shower

“hey! this is kun from the speed dating thing. i hope this is the right number. i’ve already texted three wrong people and have had to explain myself to each of them. it’s really embarrassing. please confirm if this is you!”

you sent him a simple “:)” in response

“so does that mean you’re down to get a coffee with me tomorrow?”

“:)”

the next morning, you had the first of many, many morning coffee breaks outside the school library

these quick little meetups usually concluded with a quick sift through the library, where you’d each recommend each other your favorite books and read the prologues to each other over a hot cup of coffee

at first, the librarians used to kick you out for having drinks inside, but now youre clever and just hide your cups under your jackets

this became a weekly occurrence

and then it started happening twice a week

and now you basically see kun every other day

he even managed to get you to join the biographical book club with him, something you’d be way too nervous to do before meeting him

kun was such a good guy

you knew he was smart and funny and you knew he was caring and fun to be around

but what you didn’t know is that he had been smitten with you from the second you scribbled your number onto his arm

one day, as you were studying for your last final of the semester, you got a call from kun

you sent him the automated response, “sorry, i cant talk right now”

but he called right back anyway

“what is it?” you answered

“i’m sorry if you’re studying but this is super important and im so excited and i just have to tell someone!”

“what’s up kun?”

“my book! it’s finished! and i finally added in the love interest like the publishers asked!”

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU BITCH

“finish studying! then we can facetime and i can read you a chapter!”

and so for the next thirty nights (even over your winter break), you and kun would facetime so he could read you a chapter until the book was finished

and you’d give him pointers at the end of each one so he could go back and revise once you had gone to sleep

the plot was incredible, honestly

the protagonist was a divorced middle-aged man whose wife left him for being too aggressive and absent-minded all the time

in the divorce, the wife got full custody of their teenage son

but when she goes on a business trip, the protagonist gets to watch the son

however, when he goes to pick the son up to take him to his house, hes nowhere to be found

so the novel follows this poor guy trying to find his missing son

but no one seems to be listening to him, so hes losing his mind

he’s working alongside the police and falls for the dci leading the investigation

and basically in the end it turns out he’s schizophrenic and his wife and son never existed at all

all of this was in his imagination

and he had just been showing up to the police station every day like a crazy person

kun did so much research for that

he even got the accuracy of his portrayal of a schizophrenic checked by his pal psych major!jungwoo

on the night kun finally finished reading to you

you were sh0000000000000k like what the fuck all that trouble for it all to be fake?? genius kun!!

so he asked for your feedback on the development and personalities of all his characters

you complimented him on how well he portrayed the dci

they weren’t your typical love interest

they were headstrong and witty and educated

and they were determined to help the protagonist find his son when no one else was listening to him

“you like them?” he asked you

“yes! they were so different than i had expe-”

“i was hoping you’d like them. i was inspired by you.”

your heart BURST!!!

“KUN THAT’S SO SWEET!”

and that’s when he explained to you why he went to speed dating to begin with, and told you he was so glad to have met you

because you were the “perfect muse”

and then he asked if you’d like to be his s/o

and of course

you said yes bc duh?? he’s kun?? 

relationship

kun is the cutest bf ever!!!

nothing has really changed between you two

you still have library and car dates

but now you hold hands sometimes

and when kun is feeling extra bold, he gives you a peck on the cheek

you guys have such a cute and innocent relationship

you can often be seen together on the campus quad where you met for the first time, you in kuns arms, him tickling your stomach to make you giggle

he’s so sweet and is so considerate of your needs

out of all the boys, he’s hands down the one most likely to change for you if you guys hit a rough patch

he always pays for food

which kind of ticks you off because what if one day he goes broke

but all he really cares about is your happiness and satisfaction

and he really just wants you to know that no one loves you quite like he does

and he tells you every day how grateful he is to have you in his life

[alley-cat-sunflower]

Status update!

Hello! Alley here, finally!

You may have noticed I’ve vanished from the face of the earth lately. In case my terse and sporadic update posts aren’t enough to tell you why I’ve been so inaccessible, I think it’s about time I give you something to explain what I’ve been doing, and maybe even a promise to come back online sooner rather than later. (But it’s gonna get a little long, so I’m throwing this under a cut. I apologize to those of you who can’t see it.)

As most of you know, I’m in my last semester of college. More importantly, I’m so far along in said last semester that I literally just have to take one final a week from today—the day before graduation, actually—and then I’m home fucking free after five years of torment!!!

Anyway, the whole semester has been super busy, what with holding down an internship and three classes all required for graduation (and that pressure has been real). One of those classes was “Math and the Human Imagination”, which unsurprisingly involved analyzing imaginary numbers. I’m ashamed to admit that despite my favorite professor’s best efforts, the course did absolutely nothing to help my understanding of mathematics. Another of those classes was “Bollywood and Globalization”, which is the one in which I still have a final. I have hopes that I’ll do well, if only because I’ve enjoyed the course enough to pay attention.

The last class was my “Senior Synthesis”, which purports itself the crowning experience of a Liberal Studies major, in which you can basically do whatever the fuck you want as long as you can present it to the class in the form of a speech/slideshow, a poster, and an essay. Because there are roughly three things I care about, I chose one of them and had an unironically marvelous time drawing a bazillion connections between BTS’s Bangtan Universe and Hermann Hesse’s Demian. I was scheduled to present in the first possible week, in mid-April, and spent 24 total hours out of the weekend before pulling together my presentation (because I’m broken and think that’s fun—I’d have spent just as much time on it even if I hadn’t had to for the project). As part of it, I made a six-minute video you can watch here if you like, which showcases some of the specific connections I examined.

Speaking of BTS in conjunction with April, though, that brings me to their new album. And can I just say, holy shit. I still wasn’t over “Intro: Persona” by the time the whole thing dropped, so every time I listen to the album, I’m shook all over again to this day. Thanks to timezone shenanigans, my mother the ARMY had me wake her at 1:45am on April 12 so we could be awake for the festivities. We saw the “Boy with Luv” MV the moment it came out… and then proceeded to watch it with and without subs about five times. While that was going on, I bought Map of the Soul: Persona on iTunes the second it was available and burned a CD. After that, my mom suggested going out to a deserted parking lot and blasting it in the car so we could enjoy it at a decent volume, since we didn’t want to wake the neighbors. So we did, and let me tell you, hearing “Dionysus” for the first time at full volume in the dead of night can’t be beat. That whole adventure is a memory I’ll cherish forever.

There have been a lot of those lately, especially in conjunction with BTS, and this brings me to how absolutely insane this past week has been. I’d like to lead into last weekend by stating in no uncertain terms that I owe @lightningswrath​ my very life for managing to land us tickets to not one, but both BTS concerts at the Rose Bowl this past weekend. They were both indescribably beautiful, though the second one in particular was perfect—not least because I actually remembered to eat that day, so I was no longer trying to process overwhelming emotions on an empty stomach. However, the experience wasn’t as surreal as I expected; I did feel elevated, but also oddly grounded. Despite their awe-inspiring stage presence and sense of showmanship, the members are also so genuine as people that I couldn’t help but accept their presence in front of me.

(Incidentally, if you’re an ARMY and haven’t looked up Namjoon’s speech on 190505, please do; the man is a true sage and I feel incredibly honored to have heard such profound words in person. The only reason I didn’t record it myself was because I was so absorbed in the moment.)

Alas, every silver lining has its cloud. This past weekend has given me an unforgettable set of experiences in the best way, but I am most definitely suffering the consequences of not being able to do any schoolwork. We couldn’t leave until after my class a week ago, and we had to come back early enough on Monday that I could make it to my last math class and explain two chapters of a book I didn’t understand. On Tuesday, I had to attend the last day of my internship and then design and construct a poster, which I finished on Wednesday morning before completing a three-page evaluation of my math class—which was supposed to have been due on Monday, but I completely spaced it out—and then presenting my poster.

But That’s Not All. Yesterday, I wrote and turned in another three-page evaluation, this time of my internship, before immediately heading home to work on my synthesis essay, which was supposed to be 15 pages. Thankfully, I actually enjoy writing about all the crazy-detailed connections between BTS and Demian, but I still only finished it in the nick of time today (at a whopping 24 pages, not counting the works cited, because I can’t be brief when I’m busy being passionate) before heading to class. I had just gotten home from that when I started writing this post, and I’ll have to leave in another couple hours to go out dancing with some friends. After that, as mentioned, I only have one final left, and then I’ll have a degree in Liberal Studies with an English minor.

Which begs the question several people have already asked me: what next?

Thankfully, my internship has provided me with a ready answer, because they decided to ask me to come in as a paid part-timer over the summer! So I can at least tell people I’m going to be continuing my foray into the field of editing and publishing. But aside from career-related stuff, I also have a lot of things I’d like to do now that I won’t have academia weighing me down anymore. Enough that I can honestly make an entire list of… uh, goals? wishes? for the rest of the year:

Finish some of my ongoing fanfiction

Work on some of my original fiction

Find more time to write and post in general

Dance more often (and learn some BTS choreography)

Get into more K-pop (VAV, Monsta X, SHInee, etc.)

Help my mother sell stuff on eBay and pay back the $500 I owe her

Buy more BTS albums/merch and FFXV’s Episode Ardyn

Play and/or replay more video games, esp. otome

Plan my move up north with @chibitorra​

Move all my stuff out of my dad’s house

Sort through everything I own and get rid of half of it

Pick up my Japanese studies again

Maybe start learning Korean???

Watch more Bollywood films

Read more Hesse, Jung, and Nietzsche

I also intend to resume some of my online activities and become more socially accessible again, but I doubt I will ever be as active or consistent in any fandoms as I once was, although I hope to compensate for this by writing more for them. Given that my former fever-pitch of online activity was born of a desire to escape reality, and by now I’ve finally found more of a place in the real world, this is most certainly for the best.

Anyway, that’s the tale of where I’ve been, where I am now, and where I’m headed next! I hope that gives you something to work with if you’ve been curious about what I’ve been up to. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope life has been kind to you too!

[bryce21845-blog]

Blog 1 11/22/19 “Introduction”

So, today is the very first day of my Blog! I’d like to introduce myself to you. My name is Bryce, I’m currently a Highschool Junior, Nearly through the First Semester. My grades look pretty good as of now, I only need to raise my Physics Grade, and I’m starting that tomorrow. So, a little bit about myself. I LOVE to go fishing with my Dad, usually to Blue Water, or Cochiti. Some day I’d like to pursuit a career path in Marine Life, or Theatre. Oh yes, I’m also in Drama Three. The past two years my Drama Teacher was Stephan Forrest, a chill dude, but last year was especially stressful to him, most of it revolving around State and the Drama Production. So this year, he became an art teacher, in which he’s a lot less stressed then he was teaching Drama.

So for most of the Semester, we had different subs, but recently we got a Drama Teacher, who started back up the drama club, and we’re gonna do a theater production! I love being able to go up on Stage and express myself for who I am, rather then be judged by people. Although, last year in Drama really messed me over. I essentially carry too much hyper energy with me, and not everybody likes that level of energy, even the other Drama Kids. Somewhere along these lines, basically we were doing Improv, and I go up to Improv, and nobody else goes up. After probably a minute, a kid tells me to just get off the stage, and let some other kids use it, and clearly nobody wanted to Improv with me. I suddenly realized that not everybody wants to be around my hyper self, and so I went off to the classroom. Later at lunch, I started to cry to myself, but stayed where nobody could see me.

The personal injury has carried on with me, and now I didn't wanna act with anybody. I thought of quitting Drama, but decided I’d give it another try, and it’s turning out a little better this year, until recently. There was this one girl I had a crush on, he name’s Athena. She’s this short, really cute girl with freckles and brown hair. Basically without going into Details, I told her I liked her. I’m a Junior, she’s a Sophomore. She didn’t wanna exchange phone numbers or anything. This one kid I know, who’s friends with Athena, basically told me I creep her out, and she’s only talking to me to be nice. I asked her the next day, and she denied it, then the kid said she won’t say it because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, yeah. Then this one kid I also knew, his name’s Eric, basically told me to stop creeping out Athena, and that’s when I had it. I don’t really talk to Athena much because I don’t know who to believe, and I’d rather not risk creeping her out or annoying her because I know I can get carried away and not know the signs to look for.

Recently, probably a few weeks ago, I was hanging out around a group at lunch, where Athena happened to hang out in, but also some guys I was buddies with. I don’t remember exactly what it was I did, but Athena lashed out at me saying how this is the reason she doesn’t like me. My heart broke as I realized that was the exact reason that NOBODY likes to hang out with me. I left the group, and haven’t really went to it ever since then. I went home and I thought long and hard about it, and basically cried myself to sleep. The following day I refrained from hanging out with anybody, and it’s pretty much continued ever since. However, I have joined Drama Club, and I’m gonna be a Junior President! It’s time to start new, just not in my classes. That’s all for today, and I’m signing off.

[happiness-and-klainebows]

Love on the Star

Over seven billion people in this world and I'm the one whose dreams come true. It couldn't have been someone else who had much more exciting dreams, no it had to be me. The boy who has the most basic dreams ever, get on Broadway, win a Tony, and maybe start a fashion line. Oh wait, I forgot the most basic part, I want to meet Blaine Anderson.

Blaine Anderson is an alternative singer who sings from the soul. He is the lead singer of my favourite band and I am lucky enough to have tickets to one of his concerts. Me and my best friend Rachel Berry will be in the front row of his first concert back in his home state of Ohio. Blaine was named the best singer of our generation and I have to agree with that.

Rachel and I both graduated from high school last spring and decided that we were going to take a semester or two off and go to NYU in the spring. Both of us were going for musical theatre, and we would be living together in an apartment. It was going to be fabulous!

At the moment I am in my room doing my nightly skincare routine since I most likely will not want to do it after the concert and I need to keep my porcelain skin free of blemishes. Rachel and I had the entire night planned out, and it was going to be the best night of my life!

Suddenly I hear the doorbell ring, must be Rachel. I yell to Finn that I'll get it, if he gets it then I will never get Rachel out of the house. You see, Rachel has a huge crush on Finn and has since sixth grade. Finn is my step brother and became it when my dad and his mom got married back when we were juniors in high school. Finn is this big oafy football player who surprisingly sings amazingly but dances like a giraffe learning to walk..

I throw open the door and sure enough there is Rachel in all of her kindergartener glory. She has long brown hair with blunt bangs across her forehead, a nose like a beak, and cheekbones that could cut glass. The only thing that makes her unattractive is her clothing, she dresses like a kindergartener on picture day.

“Hey Rachel,” I say blandly as Rachel throws her arms around me.

“Kurt! So I just got this new sweater just for this occasion and I thought I would ask the expert what he thought of it!” I am in no way an expert, I just love fashion and read vogue more than the average person..

“It totally looks fabulous!” I say in what I hope is a convincing voice, I may hate her fashion taste but I don’t want her to know that.

“So what’s the occasion?” I look behind me to see Finn standing there.

“We’re going to see Blaine Anderson in concert,” I try to explain, “we have VIP tickets and it’s in Columbus so we have to leave now to get there on time.”

“Okay, well have fun then,” Finn exits the room slowly while staring at Rachel, I’ve begun to suspect that he likes her back.

“You ready Rachel?” I say as I turn back to her.

“Absolutely!” We turn toward the door and head out toward my black Navigator.

I climb into the driver’s seat of the car and turn on the engine. Rachel immediately hooks up her phone so that she can start playing Blaine Anderson songs. This was gonna be a long car ride of singing and listening to Rachel’s self-absorbed babble.

We pull up to the concert venue after dinner and checking into the hotel. Once I find a parking spot I climb out of the car excitedly. I am shaking with anticipation as I open the door for Rachel. I grab her hand and run up to the door of the venue. When we get there I hand the attendant our tickets and I release Rachel’s hand in order to go through the metal detectors at the entrance. We get through and find our seats. We are right in front of where Blaine will be.

By the time the warm up bands are over the venue is full. I am kind of feeling claustrophobic and so I sit down, Blaine will be out in around five minutes. The five minutes go by quickly and at this point I am feeling extremely claustrophobic. I have a headache and feel like I may pass out and throw up. Rachel hasn’t noticed this and is instead jumping up and down in anticipation. The lights dim and I see a figure enter the stage through the floor, which has opened up. I stand up immediately and start yelling as well, almost all of the claustrophobic feelings dissipating my body as I see Blaine on stage singing.

At the moment Blaine is backstage getting ready for whatever song is up next. The lights are getting gradually darker as we wait for Blaine, without him onstage I have nothing to focus my attention on. The claustrophobic feelings are coming back and this time they are so much worse. Rachel turns to me and yells, ”Are you okay?” there is no way I’m yelling back so I just nod my head weakly. She seems to take this as an affirmative answer and just goes back to screeching with every other fan in the arena.

Soon I could see a shape on stage, it was short and I could just see the hint of curls on its head. Just from this outline though, I knew exactly who it was. Blaine was back onstage, but this time the feelings of claustrophobia did not dissipate completely.

The opening chords to the next song came on and the lights went completely out. Then they turned back on slightly and suddenly I saw a figure in front of me. The figure had dark hair that appeared to have been gelled but now curls were springing out all over the place, he wore an incredibly over the top gold suit, and I knew his name to be Blaine Anderson.

I couldn't breathe, I felt like I could pass out. He seemed to notice this and pulled me into a tight hug while singing the opening lines, once he pulled back he stopped singing and pointed the microphone towards me and said, ”Sing,”

I nearly passed out right then and there.

I sing the next lines much higher than he would have, I have an abnormally high voice for an eighteen year old boy, so when I sing I’m a countertenor, I was the only one in my glee club at McKinley.

When I finish singing he turns the microphone towards himself and starts singing again, pulling me into another hug. This time he starts to venture down the row further, hugging or giving handshakes to everyone who wants one. The claustrophobic feeling is completely gone now thanks to Blaine.

I can just faintly see Blaine as he belts out the last note of the song, at this point he has made his way to a piano. Soon the piano is being lifted up into the air. I am in wonder as he sings on this piano. How could this eighteen year old be singing at a sold out concert on a floating piano? It was just crazy.

I look back up at Blaine and see him staring directly at me as he sings the song. He's singing a cover of Teenage Dream by Katy Perry, I can remember that this was the first song I ever heard him sing, it's also the song that he got famous for singing. It seems like he is singing it to me but I know logically he isn't. He doesn't even know I exist.

The concert is over now, it's time for me to meet the one person that will completely change my life. Me and Rachel are following the security guards who are leading the small group of people with backstage passes. We flash the guards our passes and walk past into the room where Blaine will be. The guards have left to go get him while all of us get into a line. Rachel and I are in the middle of the line, which means that we have at least a half hour to wait. They take each group to hang out with him for ten minutes, and there are only six separate groups.   Finally it’s Rachel and I’s turn to meet him. We walk up to the guards as Blaine says goodbye to the last group, my heart is racing as I see his eyes flick over to mine. His hazel eyes widen as they land on my glasz ones. I feel my heart flutter as Blaine grabs my hand and shakes it.

“My name is Kurt,” I whisper in a barely audible voice.

“Blaine. Obviously,” I can’t believe that I’m actually talking to Blaine Anderson, I feel weightless. Then Rachel ruins the moment with her loud mouth.

“My name is Rachel Barbra Berry! I am like your biggest fan. Well except maybe Kurt here, he's been listening to you since you sang Teenage Dream on your Myspace page!” Rachel continues to ramble on as I glare at her. Blaine is now paying attention to her, and I hadn’t realized that we were walking to another room until now. Finally, Rachel stops rambling. Blaine turns to me and asks how I am, this starts a conversation that lasts the full ten minutes with Rachel butting in every time she feels necessary, which is every ten seconds.

Finally our ten minutes are up and we have to leave. As we are gathering our stuff to leave Blaine yells something out.

“Wait! You guys didn’t get anything signed!” that’s when I realize that we didn’t, so I grab out the picture I wanted signed as Rachel grabs her’s. We both give him the pictures and he signs them. I don’t bother to look at mine as I give him a hug and say goodbye. I grab Rachel’s hand and scurry out of the room.

Once we get out of the venue, we get in our car and drive to the hotel. When we finally get there I look at the picture for the first time. It’s all normal, just a signature, and then I notice something strange. There seems to be a series of numbers underneath the signature. I freak out when I realize that it must be a phone number. I decide to text it to see whose it is.

Hello, who is this? I type this and then wait for an answer. When I don’t get one within the next hour, I start to think that maybe it’s a prank and so I go ahead and crawl into the bed next to Rachel, who is sound asleep. I am half asleep by the time I feel my phone vibrate, I grab it immediately and see a text back from the number.

This is Blaine. Is this Kurt? I drop my phone out of surprise. This can’t be Blaine Anderson, there is absolutely no way. I decide to text back to find out.

It’s been three months since I met Blaine and my life changed for good. Now he’s off tour and we are best friends, I told Rachel about Blaine and to say she freaked out would be an understatement.

After talking for two months we decided to take our relationship to the next level and we started dating after I accidentally told him that I had a crush on him during one of our phone calls and he said that he liked me back. It’s been a month now and Rachel is the only person who knows.

Blaine is finally coming to Ohio to visit his family when our worlds flip upside down and inside out. We’re celebrating our one year anniversary and going to our favourite restaurant, Breadstix. We hadn’t expected there to be paparazzi since it was late at night, but we obviously underestimated them because the next day there were pictures of us doing stuff from walking hand in hand down the sidewalk, pecking each other on the lips throughout dinner, and just sitting with each other sent to Blaine.

I find out about the pictures when Blaine calls me up crying and having a panic attack. I immediately rush over to his house, it’s strange to see him crying and panicking when he is usually always smiling and happy. This pictures obviously have distraught him quite a lot. When I get to his parent’s house, I knock on the door. His older brother Cooper opens the door and ushers me up to Blaine’s room. I’ve met Cooper once, when Blaine and I met for the second time in person, It was the first time since the concert.

When I get to Blaine’s room I knock on the door and announce my presence to him. He throws open the door and runs into my arms as I wrap them around him. His cheeks are tear streaked, and his usually hazel eyes are bloodshot. His usual gel helmet of hair is a curly and matted mess from sleep.

I feel him mumble against my chest and I pull back to hear what he is saying. He repeats the same phrase over and over with tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s choking on his words, and it hurts my heart to hear what he’s saying.

“My life is over, I’ve ruined everything.” That’s all he says as the tears drip onto my shirt. His hands navigate towards my waist as he bawls, I’m holding him tightly and rubbing his back. “Have they posted the pictures?” I whisper softly. He shakes his head and croaks out.

“No, but they said they would if I didn’t tell the world before Thursday.” The problem with all of this is that Blaine isn’t out of the closet yet and would like to keep that on his own terms, but at this point he’s just going to have to tell everyone.

“Blaine I think that you should tell everyone.” I whisper this softly, barely audible yet Blaine hears it.

“I think I will.”

Soon, Blaine and I are sitting on his bed., he has dried his tears, and is typing out a tweet to tell the world everything:

‘Hey guys, I have something that I need to confess. I have been keeping this a secret for years and quite a few of you have guessed. I’m gay, and I have an amazing boyfriend. His name is Kurt Hummel and I love him. If you don’t approve then go ahead and stop listening to my music. Thank you.’

I look over at Blaine and see fresh tears running down his face, I wipe them away as he presses the post button. Blaine throws his phone across the room as he starts sobbing again. The phone hits the wall with a crash and I’m honestly fearful that he broke the screen. I hear the phone vibrate with notifications as the tears fall from his eyes down to the soft sheets on his bed. I’m not sure if I should leave his phone or grab it, I’m not sure if I want to know how the world is reacting to the news. I finally decide to take the risky route and get up off of the bed, I cross the room and with shaky hands I grab the phone. I don’t look at what the replies say as I cross the room again and drop onto the bed next to Blaine. Without looking at the replies, I unlock his phone and open the ‘Twitter’ app. I open the tweet and start to scroll down to see the replies, my finger lands on the first one and I almost start crying along with Blaine.

‘I’m so happy for you. Everyone deserves to have joy in their life and it seems that you have found that joy. No one should be angry about you finding the one person who makes you truly happy, not even if that person happens to be a male. I hope that you are both very happy and that you know that you will always have at least one fan.’

A tear finds its way down my cheek as I turn the phone towards Blaine, he grabs the phone and reads the reply. He looks up at me and smiles through the tears, I lean forward and press my lips against his in assurance that everything’s going to be fine. It is going to be fine.

A year goes by and we are living our life on the high side. I moved in with Blaine about a month ago and life couldn’t be better. Rachel and Finn got together three months ago and now live right next door in the apartment on our left. It truly is a dream come true.

At the moment Blaine and I are sitting in a recording studio composing a tweet to tell the world about the fact that we will be starting a duo career. Blaine and I talked about it for a while and finally decided that it would be fun, we are dropping our first album in May and I couldn’t be more excited.

Finally everything in my life is perfect. Finally I get to live my life fulfilling my dreams instead of feeling like I’m fulfilling someone else’s. Finally I get to live my life the way I want to and I get to live it with the one person who matters most to me. That person just happens to be Blaine Anderson, and I couldn’t be happier about that fact. No matter how much disapproval we get from the public I know that I will always have Blaine. I know that the disapproval is inevitable as well because I found love on the star side.