#she hears a couple students laughing because he served them at the diner

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello! 🫣

I had this idea: thenamesh academic rivals?

Gil is a top student, mostly getting a mark of 100. but whenever Thena asks her rival what he got he always says a lower point (for example he says 97 and she got a 98) , hiding his exam behind his back 🫣

Thena glared at the chair next to hers as it was taken.

"Uh," Gilgamesh attempted - yet again - to strike up a casual conversation, "hey."

Thena tapped her papers on her desk, waiting for the professor to come in, as well as tell them how they would be conducting the labs with their students for the day. "I trust you've already looked up what your score for the mid-term was."

"What was yours?"

Thena clenched her teeth in her jaw. It didn't matter what she got, he would get just the same, if not better. She had worked her whole life to become a historical scholar, as was expected of her. And this guy always managed to stand shoulder to shoulder with her, seemingly without so much as blinking. "I achieved 98. I believe the two point demerit was due to my oversight in the essay section."

Gilgamesh merely nodded, offering a nervous kind of smile. "Ah, well, the essay parts are always the toughest."

She slid her eyes over to him. She didn't truly wish to know, but she also couldn't resist knowing. "And you?"

"Ninety..." he trailed off, as he always did when they were discussing their academic performance. She glared at him to finish, "seven?"

Thena smiled, although she did her best not to appear smug and unbecoming. "An admirable mark."

"Thanks," he laughed off, like it was nothing. Professor Stoss was a famously tough professor despite his young age, and getting any good mark from him was already a feat.

Thena did somewhat believe that the affability Gilgamesh possessed made people go easier on him. And even then, she had to concede that he was intelligent and competent in their field of study. It infuriated her.

She had the weight of the world on her in the expectation to perform. She was even a teaching assistant entirely to advance her studies and career. Otherwise, the interaction with other students was far too much for her own preference.

But Gilgamesh said he was good in historical studies merely because his mother had possessed a fondness for them. Thena devoted hours to studying and research and Gilgamesh worked part time at a diner close to the university. And yet he used to consistently beat her in every assignment and quiz and test.

Only in recent months did he seem to be coming just a single point under her, and even that was not enough. Thena had already heard from her own family how outstanding this no-name student was and how those in their field of work were asking about him.

"Did you...do anything this weekend?"

Thena looked over, somewhat astonished that he was still trying to make conversation with her.

He shrugged, tapping his fingers anxiously on the cover of his textbook. "I heard there was a fancy party for the TAs, I mean. I assumed you went."

Thena frowned. There was indeed an event for the faculty and their chosen assistants--those who showed promise enough to earn extra credits in teaching. She hadn't attended because she felt no need (nor did Phastos, in her defense). "I assumed you had gone."

"Oh, no," Gilgamesh smiled down at the desk. "I take the late shifts on weekends. They're long, but we don't get many people, so I can get studying or work done, y'know?"

Thena swallowed her words. She had all this envy for his natural skill, but his work was just as legitimate as hers. And he worked to pay his rent, living off campus, while she lived in a dorm for female academic leaders. Gilgamesh stole his time studying as opposed to building his entire life around it.

"You deserve to enjoy yourself a little."

She looked at him again, still frowning. "I beg your pardon?"

"S-Sorry." He went back to staring down at the tattered edges of his textbook. But she kept looking at him, waiting for him to elaborate. The silence worked, dragging his words out of him. "I just mean...you work really hard, right? You're always top of the class. You should be allowed to have some fun, sometimes."

She did work hard. She devoted every waking moment of her life to her studies, and the one person who continuously thwarted her attempts at perfection was the one to point it out?

It would be easier to be angry with him if he were dislikeable in any way. As it stood now, all she had to go on was that he always beat her in academic achievement, and so effortlessly at that. But even with that, she had to concede that he worked just as hard, if not harder than her for it! And it was infuriating!

"Sorry," he repeated, looking away from her glowering at him.

She sighed. "No, I'm sorry. It was an innocent question."

He looked at her, completely astonished. She would like to snap at him for thinking she couldn't even just apologise for being overly adversarial with him. But that would defeat the point. "Well, I know you don't really like small talk."

It was that she wasn't good at it. She angled herself in her chair, destroying her perfect posture to face him somewhat more properly. "Should you not have also...enjoyed yourself? When do you have time to socialise if you are either studying or working?"

"Well, I have friends I can see in my other classes," he shrugged.

Oh. Yes, of course. Thena felt her hackles raise again at the idea that she was so unfamiliar with the idea of having friends in any of their classes. But she was trying to be nicer to him.

"But," he offered another sheepish smile, bending closer to whisper like children trading a secret in grade school. "This class is my favourite."

Thena just stared at him. She supposed that made sense. He always said he had the same like of history and classics that his mother had. But the idea that she was included in the categorisation of his favourite anything; a warm feeling spread in her chest.

"The lovebirds are here already."

Students began filtering into the small lecture hall, facing them seated at the front of the room. The one who made the comment plunked down close to the door. Another one looked in their direction, "don't you two ever sleep in?"

They got jokes and insinuations that they were together all the time. Apparently, everyone could see some kind of brewing, invisible tension between the two of them. Thena always found it ridiculous.

"We don't-!"

The student startled, as did the rest of the room slowly taking their seats. The declaration was sharp, and loud--far louder than was needed for a room this size.

Thena felt warmth rush to her cheeks, first for the outburst, then the realisation that it seemed overeager to deny something that wasn't even said. She cleared her throat, turning towards the board (since she had shot to her feet in her denial). "Sit down and start copying."

The student body present groaned but obeyed. Gil was the far preferred teaching assistant because he didn't scare anyone, and even if they under-performed, he had kind encouragements as opposed to scathing condemnations.

"Guys, come on, you heard her."

Thena barely glanced over her shoulder. There was nothing new about their students complaining about her teaching methods. But Gil usually didn't take quite so stern a tone with them. Even in her defense.

He peeked at her with a smile, perhaps hoping to show that he was indeed her ally and not her enemy.

Thena whipped her head forward again. So long as they were pitted against each other in any setting, he was no friend of hers. No matter how winsome his smile was.

[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Part 4

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Self Control

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Other Pairings: Dean x Lisa, Female!Reader x OMC – Ethan (past, mentioned)

Word Count: 6,612 (thoughts, song lyrics in italics)

Part Summary: After Charlie witnesses the looks between Dean and Y/N outside the school on Friday, she convinces Y/N they should go out for drinks. At the bar, Charlie and Y/N bond, as she opens up to Charlie about Dean but also her past. After several drinks, Y/N goes home drunk and gets a little help from a friend. The next day brings a little embarrassment, but also brings up feelings within Dean and Y/N, that they know they shouldn’t be feeling.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of cheating, Mentions of reader’s ex, Talk of Emotional Abuse, Mentions of a physical incident against reader, Drunk reader, Embarrassment, Dean being sweet (yes, that’s a warning), flirting, forbidden feelings

Music: Deeper in the Water by The Lone Bellow (playing in the background while Y/N is baking scene), Wherever I May Roam by Metallica (Dean and Y/N backyard scene).

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: Thank you to everyone for your wonderful comments on this series so far! I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it! This part is a little heavier, so please read the warnings. Please share your thoughts with me, I love hearing what you all think! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics​! Check her out for all your AU needs!!!

Life’s Lessons Masterlist

Y/N took off her red glasses, smiling as she looked at her students. She could see them all flicking their eyes up at the clock every now and then, wondering when the bell would ring. She found it amusing as she tried not to laugh. It was Friday and they couldn’t wait to get out of there and start their weekend fun. She couldn’t wait herself, hoping to have some time for herself, call her family and maybe go see a movie.

Unfortunately for her students, they still had some time before they could leave, using that time to take the notes for the criteria set for their book reports. She watched as they all scribbled in their notebooks hurriedly, wanting to get out as soon as the bell went off.

“Make sure it’s personal to you” she told them as they wrote. “Books have a way of really affecting us, so I want you guys to choose something that really had a big effect on you.”

Some of them mumbled an “okay” while others nodded.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and they all sprung up at the same time. It was like how smaller children got excited for ice-cream.

“Alright, don’t all head out at the same time! You’ll plow each other out of the way!” she laughed.

“Sorry, Miss Y/L/N” one student called out.

“Have a great weekend, guys!” she called out in return.

Y/N walked out of the room as well, following them down the hallway and out of the school building. She smiled as students were being picked up by their parents, getting on the bus home or their bikes and riding home. She spotted a parent of one of her students notice her, walking over to her.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the woman asked.

“Yes” Y/N smiled, offering her hand.

“Oh, it’s wonderful to meet you, I’m Carol. Amy’s mom” she said, shaking Y/N’s hand.

“Wonderful to meet you, too” Y/N agreed.

“I just wanted to come and introduce myself and welcome you” Carol said, a bright, peaceful smile on her face. “I know it’s already been a couple of weeks, but I hope you’re loving Lawrence.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m definitely warming up to life here.”

“Well, Amy’s really fond of you. English is already her favorite subject but she’s so happy to have someone like you teaching it” Carol complemented her.

Y/N beamed, her heart soaring. It was always great to hear when kids enjoyed a subject and the way you taught it.

“She’s a great student, so that definitely makes it easy” Y/N told her.

Carol blushed, delighted by the complement for her daughter. “Well, we better go. I’m sure we’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” Y/N said. “It was great to meet you.”

As Carol walked away after saying goodbye, Y/N looked around as the crowds of children started to clear. She spotted Charlie and was about to walk over, when she noticed who she was talking to. Dean was leaning against his car, aviators on and laughing at something Charlie just said. Ben was sitting in the car, waiting for Dean. She didn’t realize that Charlie knew Dean too, but she really should’ve made the connection considering she knew Cas, and Cas knew Dean. She thought about going over there, but she didn’t want to interrupt them. Plus, after what happened the other night at dinner with him and Lisa, she wasn’t sure if she should go over there.

“Y/N!” she heard her redheaded friend call out and she knew she had to go over.

She smiled as she walked over, trying to prepare herself to be near Dean again. He looked so damn good in that moment, and she was finding it hard to look at him.

“Thanks to your car, I know you already know each other, so I don’t have to introduce you” Charlie laughed, as she nudged Y/N with her hand.

“Yeah.” Dean took his sunglasses off and Y/N saw that he was looking directly at her. She was suddenly nervous again.

Dean took her in, dressed in a black dress that hugged her body in just the right way. Her red glasses were tucked into the neckline of her dress, and he had a sudden urge to see her wearing them. Mind outta the gutter, man he thought to himself as he looked away from her.

“I didn’t realize you guys were friends” she said, as she stood in front of Charlie and Dean.

Charlie smiled as she looked at Dean. “Yeah, have been for years.”

“Charlie’s like the little sister I never wanted” Dean teased, smiling cheekily at her. Charlie punched him in the arm, and he laughed.

His gaze moved from her back to Y/N. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since the first time he met her, but even more so after what happened at her house.

Charlie noticed how Dean and Y/N were looking at each other and dropped her head, smiling without them seeing.

“I better go” he said, suddenly, putting his sunglasses back on. “Lisa finished work early and we’re going to Sid and Olivia’s for dinner.”

“Tell them I said hi” Y/N told him, trying not frown as she wished he had stayed longer.

“Sure thing” he nodded. He moved in to hug Charlie, kissing her head.

Y/N watched as Dean got into the car and drove off, the car roaring down the road. She turned to Charlie and her face dropped into a frown, when she saw her friend grinning at her.

“What?”

“You like him” Charlie stated.

Y/N stared at her in shock, before scoffing a laugh. “You’re insane.”

“On the contrary, I’m completely sane” Charlie countered. “And you denied it a little too quickly, so it has to be true.”

“Charlie…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing how to respond to that.

“I think we need to get a drink together” Charlie suggested. “We haven’t gotten a chance to hang out outside of work yet.”

Y/N grinned. “Sounds great.”

“Tonight?” Charlie asked.

“Name a time and place, and I’m there” Y/N responded quickly. She was excited to go out and see what Lawrence was like on a Friday night. She knew it wouldn’t be much for a small town, but she also knew she needed to know how the nightlife was here.

“Ditch the rental at home and I’ll pick you up” Charlie said, as she started to walk away. “I’ll be there at 7!”

“See you soon!” Y/N called out as they both made their way back in to collect their belongings, before they headed home.

When she got home, Y/N relaxed for a while before she needed to get ready. She freshened up and got dressed into black ripped skinny jeans and a dark mustard sweater. She put on her black heeled ankle boots, ran a straightener through her hair quickly to get the kinks of the school day out and applied light make-up. She picked up her black leather jacket and her bag, just in time when she heard two quick honks of a car horn. She picked up her keys and walked out, closing the door behind her. She walked down the porch steps and smiled at Charlie as she walked over, getting into the car.

Y/N and Charlie made their way to the town square, lined with shops and some restaurants. Deciding they were hungry too; they grabbed a quick bite to eat. Conversation over at the diner mainly consisted of work and minor things, because Y/N had a feeling Charlie wanted to talk about personal things over drinks. After they ate, they walked down the street and past a couple of dive bars, the loud music and chatter filtering out to the streets. She felt better knowing there was something going on in this town and that it wasn’t as sleepy as a place like Rhinebeck. Though Rhinebeck did have its own charms.

Y/N followed Charlie, arriving at the place where they sat at the bar. She and Charlie sat on the bar stools, the bartender immediately coming over to them.

“What can I get you, ladies?” he asked, smiling at them.

“Gin and tonic, please” Charlie replied, smiling back.

Y/N thought it over for a second before she replied. “A vodka martini.”

“Sure thing” he muttered before moving down the bar to mix the drinks.

Y/N and Charlie both took their jackets off, settling in. The bartender put their respective drinks in front of them and then went to serve other customers. Charlie picked up her glass and turned to Y/N.

“To surviving your first two weeks” she said, smiling.

“Well, thanks for making it easy for me to settle in” Y/N smiled back, clinking her glass against hers. “I really mean it. You and Cas have really helped me and supported me, so… thank you.”

“No need to thank” Charlie waved her off, taking a sip of her drink. “So… let’s get to the real reason we’re here…”

“Oh god” Y/N groaned.

“Oh yeah” Charlie smirked. “You like Dean.”

Y/N laughed a little to herself. She didn’t beat around the bush, this one.

“Yeah. I do” Y/N admitted, feeling slightly relieved to say it out loud. “At first, I really just thought it was a crush, something that would just go away after a couple of days. Then… then the butterflies stuck around and they’re not going away. Every time I see him… I just want to be near him. All the time. I know two weeks is way too soon to be feeling like this about someone I just met, but-” she explained but Charlie shook her head, cutting in.

“I don’t think the length of time matters to Oxytocin” Charlie advised her.

“I’m not quite at the love stage yet. In fact, I hope I never get there because that’s going to get me into trouble” Y/N countered.

“Which is unfortunate because I think you two would be adorable together” Charlie confessed, a guilty grin on her face.

“What?” Y/N scoffed, not quite believing what she just heard.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… the way he was looking at you, even just for a few seconds, I haven’t seen him like that in a really long time” Charlie said, a sad smile on her face.

“Oh god” Y/N groaned, her face dropping into her hands. “Charlie, what are you doing to me?!”

“I know, I know” Charlie shook her head, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t” Y/N shook her head, taking a large sip of her martini.

“I know, and I wasn’t telling you to go for it at all. I’m sorry” Charlie apologized, sipping her drink.

“It’s okay” Y/N reassured her, patting her back. Once they had both calmed down, Y/N turned to her friend. “Oh, they came over for dinner on Monday. I wanted to thank Dean about the car, and he came over with Lisa.”

“Really?” Charlie asked, a little shocked. “She actually came over?”

Y/N nodded. “Seemed like she didn’t want to be there, though. I mean, she was okay, she didn’t say much, which I don’t really care about, but she was kind of cold with Dean.”

Y/N looked at Charlie and saw that she looked like she wanted to say something but was contemplating whether she should or not.

“Okay, look…” Charlie started, trying to find her next words carefully. “I’m just going to tell you this, and it’s in no way saying that you have to do something, I just think you need to know, now that you’ve brought this up.”

“Okay…” Y/N didn’t know where she was going with this, but she listened anyway.

“Dean and Lisa have never been good for each other. They had a one-night thing, it was great for both of them, but that’s where it should’ve ended. Things were fine at the start, but once they got past the one-year mark, is when things started turning. Two years in, it got pretty bad. I mean, Dean doesn’t know for sure… but he thinks that she might’ve slept with someone else when she went home to visit her family. Things haven’t been right for a while now. Between not trusting her and them fighting at the drop of a hat all the time… it should’ve ended a year ago” Charlie explained.

“Wow” Y/N sighed, shaking her head.

“The only time we see him happy is when he’s at work or when he’s with us and she’s not around. Hell, I don’t particularly think she likes any of us, and we’ve tried really hard to include her. She never really wanted to do anything with us and would only come out with Dean if she wanted to prove things were okay. After a while, we just stopped trying to get her to like us” Charlie went on.

Y/N couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Charlie or Cas. “Seriously?”

Charlie nodded, a glint of anger behind her eyes. “She’s never encouraged him with the business, she’s always put him down for his choice in friends. She claims it’s to make him see that he’s better than them, but she’s just forcing him to think things he never would.”

There was a long silence between them, as Y/N processed everything Charlie just told her. She and Charlie were only just starting to become friends, so she could’ve easily said she didn’t believe her. She did, though. Charlie looked genuinely hurt, which meant everything was true.

“Fuck” Y/N whispered.

“Yeah” Charlie said, raising her eyebrows. “Dean’s generally a happy, care-free guy but for over a year now, I know he’s been hurting. He just hides it behind his larger than life personality. I just want to see him as his old self again. He thinks that if he stays, maybe things will just fix themselves, but they won’t. They haven’t yet and they certainly won’t the longer he stays in this relationship.”

“Wow” Y/N sighed again.

“So, that’s all I want to say” Charlie finished. “I’m not saying you have to do anything about it, but I want you know the reality, and maybe not hate yourself so much for having the thoughts you’ve been having.”

Y/N nodded. Hearing it made her feel slightly better, but worse now that she knew what he was going through.

Another silence fell between them as Y/N thought about everything Charlie said.

“It scares me” Y/N looked down into her glass, shaking her head. “Feeling something so quickly for someone I just met. I’ve never felt a connection like this before. Not even with Ethan.”

“Ethan?” Charlie asked, confusion written on her face.

Y/N bit her lip. She didn’t realize she had never mentioned him to Charlie. “My ex.”

Charlie nodded slowly, immediately understanding. “I’m guessing things didn’t end well if you’re so far away from New York.”

“No, they did not” Y/N muttered after a sip of her drink. “He uh… he was really controlling of me. He’d tell me how I shouldn’t dress up and be too revealing, but then somehow… somehow, he’d tell me that I didn’t try hard enough either, that I wasn’t attractive enough. My job wasn’t good enough. I… I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t… I didn’t think it was something that was a problem, no matter how much anyone told me it was. I thought he’d… he’d say the things he did because he just wanted me to be better, but it was to stroke his own ego.”

“Scumbag” Charlie muttered; her face morphed into anger.

“Yeah” Y/N laughed, bitterly. “I couldn’t see it until the night he hurt me. I thought he was doing those things because he loved me, but love isn’t making a person hate themselves to make yourself feel better.”

“You said he hurt you…” Charlie trailed off, worried that she’d uncover feelings that Y/N had buried.

“Just once, he pushed me and I ended up in hospital with a concussion” Y/N said, her words choking around the lump in her throat. “Once I was better, my parents helped me get my things out of his apartment. It wasn’t an easy transition; I kept seeing him everywhere. I tried to get a restraining order against him, but his family had money and probably paid someone off, so he never got charged with one. He eventually left with his new girlfriend, but that didn’t mean it got better for me. It took some time, a year of therapy before I left, but I realized that I wasn’t going to let anyone do that to me ever again. That place… I didn’t want to leave my family but there was too much of him there. So… now I’m here.”

“I’m glad you are. Y/N, you’re… shit, you’re fucking amazing and I hate that someone made you feel like you’re not” Charlie said, quietly, her eyes watery.

“I really know how to tell a story, huh?” Y/N jested, trying to lighten the mood again, as she blinked to keep her tears from falling.

“I’m glad you told me, that you could trust me with that” Charlie said, a small, empathetic smile playing at her lips.

“I’m sorry” Y/N shook her head, feeling awful at her sudden confession of her past. “I shouldn’t have brought it up when we’re here to have a good time.”

Charlie took her hand in hers. “No, please don’t apologize. I really am glad that you did. I’m so glad I know you.”

Y/N smiled at her. She knew Charlie would hear the story and wouldn’t pity her but be there for her and listen. She held Charlie’s hand, squeezing it. She was glad to have met the woman sitting in front of her.

“You know… Dean would never do that to you, right? To anyone” Charlie told her.

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes. “I know. I don’t know how I know, but I just see him, and I know that he’d never do that.”

“And that’s what scares you, right? That he’d never do that, that you feel so much and that he’s with someone else?” Charlie asked.

Y/N looked at her and didn’t say anything. Her face said it all. Charlie just nodded, before taking the last sip of her drink.

“I need another drink” Y/N said with a small chuckle, having finished her martini.

Charlie just smiled as she flagged down the bartender.

Another drink turned into two more after that. Y/N understood what Charlie said clearly, but that didn’t mean she was going to take the words and run with them. Why risk everything on what could just be a crush? She was wrong, 2 weeks was absolutely a ridiculous amount of time to suddenly fall for someone. She was overthinking things.

She was thankful when Charlie dropped the subject of Dean, having said what she needed to about how she felt towards Lisa, knowing Y/N would interpret everything the way she needed to. She also felt a huge pressure lift off her chest when she told Charlie about what happened with Ethan. It had been a year since the break-up and since she had started therapy. Her last session before she left had left her feeling relieved. Coming to Lawrence had been the best decision, even with her situation with Dean. Charlie was amazing and was glad she spoke up and told someone who she really trusted.

They eventually moved onto talking Charlie and Dorothy and Y/N found the redhead incredibly cute in that moment, as she gushed about her girlfriend.

Y/N knew that once the fourth martini went down, she had to get home. She was well and truly drunk and all she wanted to do was sleep it off. Just forget them ever talking about Dean.

As they left the bar, she stumbled slightly as they walked down the road. She needed to get an Uber and be alone in her thoughts now, her mind reeling with their conversation but vodka, too.

“Are you sure I can’t take you home?” Charlie asked, concern all over her face.

Y/N chuckled as she shook her head. “I’m sure, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay” Charlie agreed, reluctantly. “Message me as soon as you get home.”

An Uber quickly pulled up a few moments after she called it, and Y/N got in. She smiled and waved at Charlie. “Thanks for tonight.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Monday” Charlie smiled.

Y/N leaned back against the seat, looking out the window. She really didn’t need man drama while she settled into a new town. She had had enough of it back home in her previous relationship, that one almost ruining her mental state. She was still recovering, even if had been a year since they broke up. Memories of him and imagining him around town, even after he left, were what made her decide to leave too. The last thing she needed was to be with someone. That being said, someone could argue with her that it was time to move on and find something better, something more meaningful.

Well, that something would have to come from somewhere else because it sure as hell wasn’t going to come from Dean. As much as she was attracted to him, he was with someone. No matter how unhappy the relationship was. Her mind floated to something Charlie told her. That it was possible that Lisa cheated on Dean.

He was sweet and caring, nurturing and compassionate. Gorgeous as hell and insanely hilarious. Who could ever cheat on him? People had their flaws, but that didn’t mean you give up on a person. His flaws couldn’t be as bad as her ex’s.

The Uber pulled up outside her house. Y/N steadied herself as much as she could as she got out. The car pulling up caught the attention of Dean, however, as he was sitting on the front porch, beer in hand. He watched as Y/N stumbled up the stairs of her porch and tried to open the door to her house.

Dean put his beer down on the stoop and got up from the stairs, walking across the street. As he walked up her porch stairs, Y/N turned around and smiled at him, indicating to Dean that she was quite drunk.

“Dean” she slurred happily, her eyes sparkling.

He tried not to laugh as he walked over to her. “Doing okay there, sweetheart?”

“Sure am” she giggled in her drunken state. “Just trying to get my door open.”

Dean watched as she tried to put the key in but kept missing the keyhole. He stepped forward and took the key from her hand, putting it into the lock and opening the door with ease.

“Thanks” she beamed.

As she went to walk through the threshold, her foot caught the edge and she stumbled. With quick reflexes, Dean caught her arm and pulled her into his body.

“Whoa, Y/N” he exclaimed, cradling her to his body.

She let out a loud cackling laugh, completely unaware of her near injury. Knowing that this wasn’t going to end well if she kept at it by herself, Dean bent down and lifted her legs up as he cradled her body. He lifted her into his arms as he carried her into the house, trying not to dwell on how good she felt in his arms.

“Ooh” she gasped, as her arms wrapped around his neck. “You’re very strong, Dean.”

She couldn’t help but lean her head on his shoulder, the intoxicating scent of cologne driving her crazy.

He ignored that as he walked down the hallway and into her bedroom.

Dean gulped as he looked around, the realization that he shouldn’t be standing in her bedroom hitting him suddenly. He quickly walked to the bed and laid her down, watching her eyes flutter as the alcohol she had consumed took control.

“Have to… have to text Charlie” she mumbled, the alcohol making her sleepy.

Ah, so that’s who she went out with he thought as he took off her shoes and pulled the covers over her.

He picked up her bag and fished around quickly, finding her phone. He didn’t look in, knowing that a woman’s handbag had things in there he had no business seeing.

Y/N unlocked her phone and handed it to him, flinging her head back to her pillow.

Dean bit back a laugh as he messaged Charlie as Y/N.

Hey, made it home safe. Thanks for tonight.

He added that in because if she was this drunk, then clearly she had a great time with his friend. Who wouldn’t?

Dean placed her phone on the nightstand and was about to walk away when he heard her stir.

“You’re really sweet, Dean” she mumbled, only one eye looking up at him as her face was smooshed to her pillow. “Why can’t all guys be like you?”

Dean shook his head. She was really out of it. “I wouldn’t say that, Y/N. I’m not someone to be compared to.”

“I think you are” she said, a soft smile on her face. “I think you’re something special, Dean Winchester.”

A smile spread on his face, but it dropped quickly. She wouldn’t remember saying it in the morning, so it was best not to dwell on it.

“Goodnight, Y/N” he whispered.

“I could get used to you in my life” she whispered, as she drifted off into slumber.

Dean felt a pang in his heart at her words. She may have been drunk, but it had been a while since someone had something like that to him. He couldn’t let her words affect him like that, though. He was with someone else and he needed to make that work again.

Dean slowly walked out of her room and back down the hall. He took out his wallet and took out the Advil tablets he kept in there, leaving them by her coffee machine. He picked up a napkin and quickly scribbled a note on it, before leaving her house. Hopefully she wouldn’t remember all of that in the morning and they could avoid the awkwardness that would follow.

The sunlight from the windows streamed into Y/N’s room. It warmed the covers she was wrapped in, causing her to stir. She groaned as she lifted her head, feeling the heaviness of last night’s drinking session with Charlie. She sat in bed as she tried to recall what happened last night. Her eyes widened as she remembered, everything quickly rushing to her head.

Dean had helped her into the house. Dean had most likely helped her into bed. Dean had been in her bedroom.

She couldn’t remember if any words had been exchanged. Had she said anything that would cause her embarrassment?

Y/N slowly got out of bed and picked up her robe, wrapping it around herself. She picked up her phone and walked out of her bedroom, into the kitchen, as she needed coffee as soon as humanly possible. She looked at the time. It was 10 in the morning. She had really been knocked out last night. She walked over to her coffee machine and was about to start filling it, when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

A slip of Advil tablets and a note laid next to the machine. She smiled as she picked up the note, scribbled in all-caps.

HOPE YOUR HEAD DOESN’T HATE YOU TOO MUCH IN THE MORNING.

-D

Her stomach flipped as she bit her lip, reading over the note again. She liked his handwriting. It said so much about him.

She quickly took the Advil before she made her coffee and breakfast, two eggs and a little bacon. You had to have bacon on a Saturday morning, especially if you were hungover. That’s what she felt.

The rest of her afternoon consisted of paying bills and doing some work for her classes, once her head was feeling slightly better. She made a mental note to actually go see a movie next week with Charlie. Maybe they could invite Cas’s girlfriend along, as she was dying to meet Meg. After doing her work for the day, she decided to do a little baking. Saturday afternoon baking was something she did often back home, and she wanted to keep that going here in her new house.

Y/N decided on making an apple pie, one of her favorites. As she got all the ingredients together, she decided to make two, wanting to take one over to Dean as a thank you for helping her last night. Hopefully he liked pie. She turned on one of her softer playlists, as cooking or baking needed some kind of music in the background and something soft was good for her head right now.

An hour later as The Lone Bellow graced her ears, she took out two beautifully golden pies from the oven. She put them on the kitchen bench and went to shower, having still been in the same clothes from last night.

Once she was freshened up, she walked out in dark blue skinny jeans, a white tank top and a pink and white plaid shirt over the top. She took a red and white checked cloth and wrapped it around one of the pies, making sure it stayed warm as she walked over. Slipping her phone into her back pocket, she shrugged on a light jacket to shield her from the light breeze. It was starting to get colder and she wondered what winter would be like here.

Y/N left her house and walked over to Dean and Lisa’s, pie in hand. She was a little nervous and hoped that Lisa wouldn’t be there, so that she could talk to Dean alone. She was slightly ashamed of herself; he was technically a parent of a child she was teaching, and he saw her drunk. She really hated herself for it and hoped that they could talk and come to an understanding.

She quickly walked up the porch steps and rang their doorbell. She waited patiently for a few seconds, before she rang the bell again. Again, she didn’t hear anyone coming for the door. Even the Impala wasn’t in the driveway. They had probably gone out as a family. As she walked back down the porch steps, she heard some music and clinking sounds coming from the back of the house. Wondering if maybe Dean was at home, she walked around the corner to their backyard, the sounds of Metallica’s Wherever I May Roam becoming louder as she got closer. The sight that greeted her caused her eyes to widen and her heart to beat wildly in her chest.

Dean was leaning over the engine of his car with the hood open. He was wearing blue jeans that hung on his hips in the most perfect way, highlighting his cute butt. His dark grey t-shirt defined his physique, the material stretching across his chest and biceps. His arms and face were covered in grease from the car, but that only added to the hotness he was showing at that point. When he turned around and noticed her, he smirked which just killed her dead on the spot.

“Hey, I didn’t hear ya coming out here” he said, walking over to her, turning the music down a little as he walked past his little radio.

She blinked a few times, trying to get out of the trance he put her in. “I rang the bell a few times but then I heard you out here.”

He nodded as he jerked his head towards the car. “Yeah, I gotta work on her from time to time, make sure she’s still runnin’ properly.”

“Well, she’s gorgeous. I wouldn’t want her to fade away either, if I was you” she smiled.

He smirked as he looked at his priced possession. “Dad would tear me a new one if I ever did.”

She laughed a little before a silence fell between them, only the sounds of the song being heard.

And the road becomes my bride And the road becomes my bride I have stripped of all but pride So in her I do confide And she keeps me satisfied Gives me all I need And with dust in throat I crave Only knowledge will I save To the game you stay a slave

Now was as good a time as to bring up what she needed to.

“Dean, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me last night” she started but he waved her off.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart” he smiled.

He really had to stop calling her that if she was ever going to get anywhere with this. If only he knew what that did to her.

“I know it might’ve felt like just a nice gesture, and it was, but… Dean, I’m really ashamed and I really, really hope you don’t see me differently now” she confessed.

Dean frowned, not sure what she meant. “Why would I do that?”

“It’s just that… I’m a teacher, and I’m supposed to be a certain way. You’re practically a parent to a child in my class, and you shouldn’t be seeing me like that, like how I was last night-” she rambled but the feel of his hands on her shoulders stopped her.

“Y/N, it’s really okay. I’d never tell anyone about that. I mean, shit. You gotta let loose once and a while, too. Maybe someone else would judge you for that, but I never would” he told her, his voice calming her.

“But-” Dean shook his head when she protested.

“Honestly, Y/N. It’s fine. That’s just between you and me. Okay?” he reassured her.

She sighed in relief. “Okay.”

“Good” he winked at her.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked down, trying not to think about that wink.

“It’s just… I didn’t say anything stupid to you, did I? If I did, I’m so sorry” she apologized.

Dean remembered everything she said last night. It had kept him up for an hour and a half as her words circled around in his thoughts.

“Nope” he lied. “Though you did mutter something about finding Christopher Walken sexy.”

Y/N eyes widened. “What?!”

Dean guffawed loudly, shaking his head. “Oh my god, you should see your face.”

She reached up and smacked his arm, causing a small “ah” to leave his lips but he kept on laughing, as he rubbed his arm.

“You’re such an ass” she shook her head, trying not to smile at the sound of his laugh.

His laughter died down as he composed himself. “That was too easy.”

“I don’t think you deserve this pie now” she gestured to the wrapped-up dish in her hands.

His eyes lit up as he looked between her and what was in her hand. “Pie? You-you made me a pie?”

“Yeah, I did, as a thank you for last night but I don’t think I want to give it to you now” she pretended to be upset, riling him up.

“Y/N…” he said, looking her right in the eyes. “Please.”

Jesus. She was putty in his hands. This wasn’t good. She couldn’t do this with him. In that moment, all she could do was hand over the pie with a polite smile. She couldn’t let him think that she was wanted to keep going on this banter of theirs. That was dangerous and she wouldn’t be that person.

She quickly handed it over. “Since you asked so nice.”

His eyes and smile grew brighter, as he giddily lifted one corner of the cloth and smelt the cinnamon and apple.

His eyes rolled back as he moaned lightly. “Damn, that smells amazing. Thanks, Y/N. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome” she said, laughing slightly at his reaction. “I take it you like pie.”

“Like?” he scoffed. “More like obsessed.”

“Good to know” she giggled as she watched him take another whiff. “I better go.”

“Oh, before I forget. Your car should be ready on Wednesday” he told her.

She smiled with a sigh of relief. “Amazing, thank you.”

“So, I’ll see you at the shop on Wednesday” he said, his thumbs rubbing over the cloth around the pie. He was itching to dig into it.

“Yeah” she nodded. “Bye, Dean.”

“Bye. Thanks again” he lifted the pie as he thanked her.

Y/N smiled as she walked away, rounding the corner and disappearing.

As soon as she was gone, Dean walked into the house and put the pie on the kitchen counter. He washed his hands and wiped them down, his mouth salivating as the delicious scent of the pie wafted through the kitchen. He opened a drawer and took out a fork, unfolding the cloth from around the pie dish. He licked his lips he looked down at it, stabbing his fork in and digging up a big bite. He blew on it and shoved it into his mouth. The flavors exploded as he closed his eyes in delight.

“Fuck, that’s good” he mumbled to himself as he swallowed down the mouthful.

It had to be the best pie he had ever had, not including his mother’s because that wasn’t a fair fight. Did Y/N really have to be so perfect that she made an amazing pie, too? How the hell was he supposed to stay away from her if she did things like this?

You just have to he thought as he wrapped the pie up again, for later. You can’t keep doing what you’re doing with her.

If this was ever going to remain friendly, then he had to stop turning on the charm, even if that was second nature to him. She made everything so easy. Things hadn’t been easy for him in a long time.

Between what she said in her drunken state to him (she may have been drunk, but she still said it. So, it had to be true, right?) and now bringing him this pie, it was getting harder to resist her. He knew was starting to feel something for her, even if it had only been a couple of weeks. He hadn’t felt like this since the first time he was with Lisa. Once they actually got together, the spark fizzled out quite quickly as comfortability took over. Now, even that wasn’t there.

Maybe it’s only meant to be comfortable. Maybe the spark isn’t meant to stay as you get comfortable with your partner. Though, that didn’t seem right to him. If you were really in love, then wouldn’t the spark stick around?

He had never been more confused about what to do, but he knew what the right thing was. It was to stick it out with Lisa, and that’s what he needed to do.

No matter how much he thought about Y/N.

As Y/N walked towards her house, her smiled dropped. What happened back there wasn’t just a friendly neighborhood chat. That was more. Much more. That was something two people did when they’re getting to know each other as more than friends. That was banter and flirting and messing around with each other with silly jokes. There were looks that made her tingle all over, and polite words that comforted her.

He made everything so easy. What she was beginning to feel for him was so much more than what she had felt before. This feeling wasn’t even there the first time she met Ethan. She knew she was fooling herself when she said this was just a little crush.

As she entered her house, Y/N was determined.

Dean Winchester was not going to have an effect on her.

He just wasn’t.

-x-

Tags: @flamencodiva​ @deanwanddamons​ @winchest09​ @katehuntington​ @akshi8278​ @hobby27​ @michellethetvaddict​ @spngirl05​ @kyjey​ @halesandy​ @440mxs-wife​ @stoneyggirl​ @deanswaywardgirl​ @wonder-cole​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @redbarn1995​ @marianita195​ @babypink224221​ @deans-baby-momma​ @parinarain​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @mandalou29​ @castiels-a-winchester​ @perpetualabsurdity​

[stellar-starseed]

Teacher’s Pet

Group: Ateez

Pairing: Student!Mingi x Teacher;fem!reader

Summary: Mingi’s senior year takes a turn as he finds himself entangled with his teacher.

Warning: Themes of grooming, sexual content, language

Part: One

Mingi sighed to himself and slumped in his seat. He was not a fan of English, it was so boring, and he was preparing for this years mess of essays. He dropped his book down on his desk.

“She’s hot!” Wooyoung whispered rather loudly as he sat next to Mingi.

“Who?” Mingi questioned looking up from his desk for the first time since entering the classroom.

“Her.” Wooyoung pointed to the front of the class. Mingi’s gaze followed Wooyoung’s finger to find the new English teacher. Mingi hadn’t seen her around. She was quite attractive, he thought. He shrugged it off, certain that this class would be hell.

“Alright, my name is Ms. ______. I see we are dealing with seniors!” The class responds with celebratory hollers. You chuckle at them. “Alright, well that is perfect! We’re going to get in to the good stuff this year guys. Are you excited? Please don’t answer that.” You laugh at yourself.

Mingi catches your smile as you laugh and he’s suddenly more interested. You pass out papers to each row and as they are passing them backward, you begin to read a poem.

The small chatter of the class fades out to Mingi and he tunes in to this voice like honey. It washes over him and he’s in a trance. The words he had followed along to on the page slip away and he looks up to see the source of the voice. Something about the poem she chose spoke to him.

Mingi gathered the bags of trash from the last bin at the back of the restaurant and headed outside. Chucking the bags over the dumpster’s edge, he heard laughter from behind.

“I know Yunho!” Mingi turned to see his best friends bent over laughing. Jungho spotted Mingi.

“Hey!” He yelled in a whisper. He jogged over to Mingi and passed him the joint.

“Guys, I’m starving!” Yunho whined.

“You’re always starving.” Mingi chuckled and took a long hit from the joint.

“Yeah but doesn’t a shake sound fucking delicious?” Yunho takes the joint from Mingi and takes a drag. “Come on man, a couple of shakes for your besties!” Yunho slaps Mingi’s chest with the back of his hand. Mingi rolls his eyes snatches the joint from Yunho to take another drag.

“A shake does sound kind of good right now.” Mingi hands the joint to Jongho. Yunho throws his hands up in victory.

After stomping out the joint and leaving the evidence in the parking lot the three boys head into the diner. Mingi walks to the back and starts an order on his tab. He sighs to himself. He knows his friends mean well, but sometimes they could be a pain.

Mingi serves the guys their shakes and fries and takes a seat at the table with them. His shift ended twenty minutes ago, but he would have to clean up after his friends.

“Dude!” Yunho slaps the table. “Isn’t that the hot teacher?” Jongho lifts his head to see and agrees.

“That’s definitely her.” Jongho shoves a fry in his mouth.

“What are we waiting for let’s go welcome her!” Yunho jumps up and heads towards the lunch counter.

“Hey, Ms. ________. I’m Yunho. I don’t have your class this year but I heard you’re like a really great teacher.”

“Oh?” You say and chuckle to yourself. “Well thank you that’s very kind of you to say.”

“Hey, do you mind if we join you? We would just like to welcome you properly.”

“Well,” you look around at the three boys, recognizing one from your class earlier today. “Sure. Why not?”

“Great thanks.” Yunho waves the guys over to take a seat. He climbs over the barstool and takes a seat next to you. After a long sip from his shake he asks, “So how do you like it so far?”

“Oh, uh, everyone seems very nice and welcoming.” You smile and take a drink from your straw.

“Shit!” Yunho says after looking at his phone, “Uh, I mean shoot. Sorry, it’s my mom I have to go. Jungho, give me a ride?”

“Yeah, wait up. Mingi are you coming?”

“No, man. It’s fine.”

“Okay.” Jungho takes one last sip from his shake and a fry to go as he waves and runs after Yunho. Mingi sighs and drops the fries back down on the plate.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Mingi quickly shakes it off and smiles. “They just sort of think this is all free because I work here.”

“You work here?” You question. He nods and you nod along with him. “This is a pretty great sandwich. You want the other half? I’m not going to eat it.”

“Are you sure?” Mini questions as you push the plate towards him. When he hesitates you nod at him. You notice how he devours it in front of you. It makes you feel sad for him.

“So, did you just move in to town?”

“No, actually I’ve lived here my whole life. I just taught at the private school just outside of town.”

“Did you always want to be a teacher?”

“Sort of yeah. How about you. What is your dream?”

“I want to be a doctor...” Mingi looked away a bit embarrassed.

“Okay.” You nod and smile at him. “That’s valid.”

“Yeah, well people like me don’t have many opportunities.” He shook his head letting the remaining sandwich fall from his hand to the plate. “I am shit at exams and the entrance exam is no different.”

“It’s honestly a set of rules. You can learn them.”

“Can you teach me?” Mingi was surprised at how forward he was, but something pulled him towards her.

“Uh, I don’t know about that.” You chuckle and stir your straw around your melting shake.

“Oh come on please? I don’t have anyone else and I can’t afford those stupid tutoring sessions or classes. You’re my only hope at getting into the school I want.” You look Mingi in the eyes and see nothing but sincerity. You sigh to yourself and nod.

“Yes!” Mingi smiles wide.

“But you have to take this seriously and I have to get it cleared with the school and your parents.”

“Deal.” Mingi chuckled lightly in disbelief.

The following weekend Mingi was was at the restaurant with a bright smile on his face. He didn’t think he could enter those worn doors with this much excitement. He took a seat at the counter directly in front of the doors as to be spotted when you walked in. He laid out his books and started where he had last left off.

“Hey.” You say slightly unsure as you take a seat next to Mingi.

“H-hello,” Mingi cleared his throat. “Ms. ________.” You smiled at him.

“You can call me ______.” You blurted out. You were a bit taken aback at your own comment, but now it was out there, lingering in the air. You swallowed hard and look down at the books.

“Where are we?” You feel a bit warm and are curious about your sudden change with this boy. Hopefully he didn’t get the wrong idea, and hopefully he didn’t call you by your first name in front of other students or at school.

“Ah.” You say. “We should take it back a notch.” You flip through some pages. Pointing to a problem you give an example and Mingi leans in, his arm is pressed against yours and you don’t move.

Your heart rate increases and you continue to explain as best you can. Your mind is wandering to places you are ashamed to admit. The way his warm skin feels against yours. The way you turned away and closed your eyes momentarily to remember the feeling he gave you when he looked into your eyes. It was all too much to think about. How could this kid be causing these feelings? You brushed it away.

Mingi felt an electricity between you two. He felt alive. No one had ever made him feel that way. Your relaxed demeanor and body language were open to him. He was excited about what this could mean. His hand brushed against yours as he pointed to a problem. Your calm reaction, and the way you never moved away from his touches only called him to push the boundaries whenever possible.

“So, we’re done for today. Practice those last few pages and we’ll meet next week.” You gently smile at him and gather your things. Mingi is left feeling empty when your car pulls out of the parking lot. He wanted to be around you as much as he could.

The next week Mingi was surprised to see you pulling up in your car. You were earlier than normal and he was excited. You smiled up at him and his heart fluttered. Mingi awkwardly rocked on his feet while he waited for you to get out of your car. You waved him along and he offered a questioning look. You laughed at him.

“Come on.” You say, waiving him along with more vigor. Mingi nods with a large smile and he ran around the front of your car to hop in to the passengers seat.

The excitement died down for Mingi, and the silence blanketed him. He began to feel like he needed to fill the air with some random chatter.

“So, we’re going to tour the campus.” You say pulling him from his thoughts. His face lit up and and he turned to face you.

“Are you sure about this?” He questioned. You nod and laugh at his over exaggerated excitement.

You finally make it to the campus Mingi had dreamed of attending. Your words played in his head, ‘I used to go here, so I can show you around campus. It will be a cool learning experience.’

“Come on.” You wave Mingi along and he’s pulled from his thoughts. He smiles down at you and lingers close to you. The tension thickens. You turn swiftly and head towards your first stop.

“Mingi? Is that you?” Mingi clearly hears a familiar voice of one of his friends older brothers. He shyly smiles in your direction and tries to ignore it.

“Song Mingi! I know that’s your tall skinny ass over there. Get over here!” Mingi apologized to you as he bowed his head. He quickly ran over and said a few words to the other boy.

“Mingi, are you going here next year?”

“Ah, I don’t know.”

“You should, but you should most definitely come to this party we have going on right now. We just had to stop to pick up some ice and some more drinks.”

“No, no. Not today. I can’t.” Mingi shakes his head and says his goodbyes.

“Sorry about that.” Mingi jogged towards you. You smiled.

“It’s okay did you want to go hang out with your friends instead?”

“No, not at all.” Mingi waved your suggestion away.

Mingi was enamored by all the facts and stories you had to share about the campus. You didn’t expect to give so many personal stories on this tour, but Mingi was so intrigued and he asked question after question. It was intoxicating to have someone that interested. You wandered around and time seemed to fly by.

Soon you stumbled upon a party through your tour and you were being offered various forms of alcohol. Mingi denied multiple times and you began to feel as though you were holding him back.

“Mingi!” You both look in the direction of the earlier voice.

“Hey, I knew you would come.” The man jogged up to you both and greeted Mingi. He politely greeted you. You and Mingi both glance around and realize there was more of a crowd and most of them were holding cups of alcohol.

“Hey, _______, this is my buddy, Sam.” Sam takes your hand and offers you both a drink. Mingi immediately denies the drink and you accept, causing Mingi to rethink his refusal. Sam hands you both cups of his alcoholic concoction.

You sip at the strong drink and walk around what was apparently the big party. Mingi picks a spot for you both to sit down. After touring most of the campus it was nice to finally take a seat.

“So,” Mingi starts. He drinks the remaining liquid left in his cup.

“So...?” You counter. Mingi smiles and grabs another drink for you both. The silence that had settled over you was no longer awkward. You began to loosen up. Why would you need to feel awkward anyway. Mingi was a legal adult and after you realized that simple fact you relaxed much more.

Mingi asked about your childhood and your reasons for becoming a teacher. You got a bit deeper than you expected, letting him know your father was an alcoholic and you had to do most of the cleaning up since your brother had gone off to the military. When you finished your little story you felt a bit embarrassed for letting everything out.

“Wow,” Mingi said softly. “I could tell you were a strong woman.” He nods. You smile, sure there must be a slight blush on your cheeks. A silence settled in once again as you look up to find Mingi staring at you.

“I like listening to you.” He says finally. You offer a small smile and suggest it’s time to head back home.

Mingi was elated when he finally laid down in bed. He was wide awake and all thoughts lead back to you. Mingi was intoxicated by this new feeling, this excitement and wonder. Mingi felt there was so much there. He finally drifted to sleep with a small smile still on his lips.

Mingi found English class much more interesting. He was more alert and his grades in English definitely improved. He felt a bit more bold after a few study sessions. Knowing you wouldn’t have a class next period, Mingi skipped his math class and headed straight for your classroom.

“Hey, Ms. ______.” Mingi offered a shy crooked smile. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, Mingi. Can I help you?” You place your papers on your desk and step out from behind it. Mingi looks around the classroom and you furrow your eyebrows at his odd behavior before leaning back into your desk and crossing your arms over your chest. Mingi steps closer.

“I-“ his voice is lower and you lean in a bit to hear him better. He steps even closer. Your breath hitches and your heart starts to pound in your ears. His lips press against yours and your caught by surprise. His kiss is confident but gentle and when he pulls away your wide eyes look up at him.

“Mingi.” Your fingers touch your lips. “Out! You have to get out.”

“I’m- shit. I’m sorry!” Mingi begins to panic. All the signs he saw, he knew he couldn’t be wrong.

“Now, Mingi. You need to go now.” You point to the door. Your heart rate is through the roof, your suddenly shaking. You quickly glance around your class room. You follow Mingi’s path to the door and look out in the hall. You close the door and let out the breath you were holding.

“Fuck!” You whisper to yourself . You push stray strands of hair out of your face and try to pull yourself together.

Mingi decided to skip his last class altogether. He headed home and cursed himself for being overly confident . All the signs you gave he was certain were solid signs. You seemed to be interested. Mingi racked his brain and he was certain he didn’t misread the signals you put out.

————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed this little bit of writing.

See you next time, love. Stay golden.

[cinna-wanroll]

*Is not writing the Obitine novel since apparently Disney cant fit it into their schedule*

That was a lie, in case you hadn’t already guessed lol. Anywho, here’s an excerpt from the first chapter since I’ve been a bit slow on uploading any original content. Keep in mind that this is a first draft, so I’ll probably end up editing it later

“Hey, buddy,” Vos clapped him on the shoulder enthusiastically. 

“Hello, Quin,” Obi-Wan offered the Kiffar a good-natured smile and continued his walk. 

“Off to the races again already, I hear,” Quinlan continued, following his friend. 

Obi-Wan cocked a suspicious brow, “Yes,” he kept his tone mild, almost adding ‘unfortunately’ to the end of his sentence, “who told you?”

Quin shrugged and turned, beginning to walk backwards casually, “Oh, you know, my usual informants. Word travels fast around these parts, especially if you’ve got connections.”

Obi-Wan grinned disbelievingly, “Mm.”

“So,” his friend gave him a little nudge as he pivoted back around, “who’s this lady you’re off to rescue, hmm?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Obi-Wan hated to admit it,, but Quinlan was actually quite charming, so he let the insinuation slide. 

“The duchess of Mandalore.”

Vos’ eyebrows shot up in disbelief, “The duchess?” Quin repeated in shock, “Damn, Obi-Wan. Aren’t people like her, like, hardcore Jedi haters or somethin’?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, “Not anymore, since the treaty of Kal’desh almost 82 years ago,” he cast a pointed gaze at the Kiffar who he’d obviously lost at the word ‘treaty’, “You’d know this if you’d paid any attention in Galactic History. 

Quinlan grinned, “Hey, I passed that class.”

“Only because you bribed Bant with Gumbah pudding for a month and a half.”

“Whatever, man.”

Obi-Wan smiled adding, “Not to mention, she’s supposedly the leader of some pacifist group there. The New Mandalorians.”

Quinlan wrinkled his nose, “Sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me. Nothing ever got done by pacifist legions in the past- at least not anything that lasted longer than a couple of years. This galaxy needs structure, not some peaceful delusionists. Besides, how peaceful can a Mandalorian organization be?”

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and looked down, forced to admit he’d thought the same things. How peaceful was a group that’d managed to stay alive among even the harshest of cultural climates? Obi-Wan was guessing not very peaceful at all. 

“I’m not sure, but Master Windu said that this mission is of utmost importance.”

Quinlan sniffed, “Yeah, to his paycheck, probably.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, “Quinlan, you know Jedi don’t get paid.”

“Most Jedi. I’m just saying, those council members always seem to be a little concerned with issues outside the Republic, than with issues at home.”

Obi-Wan grimaced- he and Vos had never agreed on that particular subject, “We are defenders of the galaxy, Quin.”

His friend shrugged again, changing his tone immediately and smiling, “Yeah, well, just don’t fall too in love with her, mmkay? She might chop that pretty little head of yours off for peace”

“Isn’t that technically what we do sometimes?” Obi-Wan made a pained expression, despite the fact that he was willing to admit it. There was just something about it that made him feel guilty. 

“Yeah, but at least we’re upfront about it.”

“And who’s to say they’re not?”

“Fair enough.”

They walked in companionable silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.

Although unlikely friends at first glance, Obi-Wan and Quinlan actually got along quite well. They were both calculated, witty, mischievous, and sarcastic fighters with a knack for getting themselves in trouble. 

 Except while Quinlan owned up to causing his antics, Obi-Wan was always the unfortunate person who could be convinced to join in for a cause when things were already taking a turn for the worst. 

They stepped up to the entrance of the mess hall, which was bustling with masters and padawans alike cramming generous heapfuls of muja muffins and mist-pudding onto their trays. 

“Mm-mm,” Quin rubbed his hands together, “I am starving!”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but nod eagerly in agreement, eyeing the tantalizing food as a group of creche students passed them. 

He wasn’t surprised to spot Qui-Gon at the very front of the extensive line, on time for the food, of course. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“Good morning, boys.”

Obi-Wan turned around towards the direction of the voice, lighting up.

A familiar emerald face greeted him, serene and kind. 

Quin turned his head to her as well, “Mornin’ Luminara.”

Obi-Wan bowed and nodded towards the food line. 

“Can you believe this?”

Luminara smiled faintly and sniffed, peering in, “On buffet day? Certainly.”

“Aka the only day they serve real food in this Force-forsaken place,” Vos chimed in.

Obi-Wan and Luminara shared a look, but inside Obi-Wan couldn’t help but agree.

The Temple was many things, but it definitely wasn’t a diner. 

“What do you think our chances are of paying off some people at the front for their spots?” The Kiffar queried, gazing back at Obi-Wan and Luminara for suggestions. 

“Oh?” Obi-Wan couldn’t help the sarcasm that snuck into his tone, “and with what credits do you intend to do that?” 

“Dunno. I was thinking more… services,” Quin countered.

 Just as Obi-Wan was about to ask what services Vos was implying, Luminara interjected, “At this point, I doubt we’d even get close enough to the masters at the front of the line without being taken away.” 

Obi-Wan nodded as he followed her gaze to where a group of large, burly-looking masters stood glaring at the passerby. It looked like they hadn’t gotten their caff yet that morning. He gulped.

“Luminara’s right, Quin, we should forget it and wait until the line dies down.”

His friend glanced over at him, “Don’t you have to leave by then?”

Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath as Luminara frowned.

“What? You’re leaving again?”

He nodded, glaring daggers at Vos and refsing to look at Luminara. 

“Yes, I was just notified about it this morning. Had I known sooner, I would’ve told you.”

“And yet Quin knows,” she quipped, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms indignantly.

“I’m tellin’ you people, I’ve got connections,” Vos emphasized, leaning against the entrance wall. 

Ignoring the Kiffar, Luminara began, “They’re over-working you again.”

Obi-Wan threw Quinlan an accusatory look that was responded to with a simple ‘here we go again’ eyeroll.

“It’s not fair to you, or to the other padawans who want mission opportunities. They want and deserve experience too! I cannot understand why the council is doing this. My suggestion would be-” she was cut off by an approaching figure, which turned out to be her master. 

Obi-Wan winced.

“Padawan Unduli, do you really think your time is best spent here, dawdling with these hooligans?”

Obi-Wan disregarded the snide comment, instead trying to throw an apologetic gaze at his friend. Although out of the corner of his eye he saw Quinlan bristle at the remark.

Luminara bowed and lowered her head, “No, master.”

“Then come along, it’s no wonder you’re always hungry.”

She followed obediently, but not before shooting Obi-Wan and Quinlan a sad, apologetic gaze as she left.

Quin snarled when they were out of earshot, “Now there’s someone I’d like to pay off. With a good kick in the-”

“Vos,” Obi-Wan chided sternly. 

His friend huffed and glowered, “What?”

“Don’t be crass. At least, not this early in the morning.”

 Quin shrugged and rolled his eyes, finally stepping away to look for an open table. 

“Besides,” Obi-Wan added while following, “I’m pretty sure you’’l have plenty of chances to do that when I’m gone, and am unable to provide you with proper impulse control.”

Quin laughed.

“Nah, it’s not as much fun without someone there sassing me.”

He returned his friend's cheerful look, “That’s a fair point.”

Luckily for the pair, Obi-Wan spotted a good amount of free space beside Qui-Gon, mostly because his master had a reputation of being a messy eater- not to mention, he had taken two trays. 

“Bingo,” Obi-Wan grinned at Vos.

The two padawans approached Jinn and sat beside him, Obi-Wan respectfully nodding while Quinlan eyed the food on the second tray. 

“Hello, master,” Obi-Wan greeted. 

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied after swallowing a mouthful of food. He took a swig of blue milk and then turned to acknowledge Quin, “Padawan Vos.”

The Kiffar snapped his gaze away from the food, nodding quickly.

“So,” Obi-Wan began, “are there any other details I should be aware of during this mission?” 

Jinn turned his full attention on Obi-Wan, “The duchess is young- about your age, I believe. She’s said to be stubborn but kind, with a deep passion for all living things… much like someone else I know.” A playful spark lit up Qui-Gon’s eyes, something about them very knowing. 

Obi-Wan did his best to concentrate on what his master was saying instead of Vos’ waggling eyebrows and his hand, which swiped a biscuit from Qui-Gon’s tray. He nodded, encouraging his master to continue.

“She’s also just returned home from a political academy located here. But most importantly, she probably won’t take kindly to our help. This mission was administered by her advisor, not her. And, despite the current peace, I’m sure she hasn’t been brought up in an environment that is… encouraging of the Jedi.”

Point two, Quinlan grinned like a fool as he stole a piece of meat of Jinn’s tray. 

“Not to mention,” Qui-Gon continued, oblivious, “her father was a warlord.” 

Oh, Force. Suddenly, Obi-Wan was a whole lot less enthusiastic about this whole thing, and that wasn’t saying much considering his attitude towards it was already pretty negative. 

He had to protect a war-monger’s daughter? Perfect.

“Wow,” Vos mused, “talk about impressing the father in-law,” he chuckled as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan turned to glare at him, “she better be really worth it Obi-Wan. Is she at least ho-”

He was interrupted by Qui-Gon’s harsh tone, “her father is dead, padawan Vos.”

“Oh,” Quinlan replied faintly, looking down, “my condolences.”

Qui-Gon shook his head and turned back to Obi-Wan, “All in all, our goal is to be an unseen protection service. After all, we don’t want her getting into more trouble just because we put her off.”

“Why is it that we don’t want her getting into any more trouble, master?” Obi-Wan asked, frowning slightly.

Qui-Gon mirrored his expression, “Because, padawan, she requested our help.”

“I thought her advisor was the one who requested our help,” Obi-Wan retorted under his breath, although he knew he shouldn't've. Although he was surprised to admit to himself that he didn’t quite care- after all, the burly masters in line weren’t the only ones who hadn’t had their caff yet.

 Qui-Gon’s frown deepened, “She is her people’s last hope for peace and civility, Obi-Wan. And you will do best not to question her, our assignment, or the council again.”

Obi-Wan looked away dejectedly, “Yes, master.”

He left out any remarks he could’ve made about Qui-Gon doing both of the aforementioned things constantly. 

“Now, just let me finish my-,” Qui-Gon turned to his practically empty tray, where Vos had mysteriously disappeared, and sighed.

Obi-Wan stifled a chuckle, leaving behind only a mischievous sparkle  in his grey-blue eyes. 

“Master?” He asked, encouraging Qui-Gon to wrap up his thought. 

“Let’s just be on our way then, Obi-Wan.”

They rose and exited the mess hall, out into the long corridors and what would be a much more eventful trip than what young Obi-Wan was expecting. 

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

The temple docking bay was huge, containing as large as a republic freighter to as small as a landspeeder. 

 Droids whizzed about everywhere, attending to some business or another. A few officials or Jedi stood out against the field of endless gleaming metal, but besides that there was nothing else living operating within the place. 

Enormous ceilings towered over Obi-Wan’s head as his master led him through the maze of docking bays and landing platforms, until they finally reached a small doorway towards the back. 

A droid met them there to provide them with a datapad of information on the ship; mostly a run-down of the controls and its condition. 

Qui-Gon nodded in satisfaction, “Everything seems to be in order here.” He handed it back to the droid, who whisked it away immediately.

“How long will our journey be, master?” Obi-Wan inquired, hoping he didn’t sound whiny. 

“Not very long. About six standard hours, providing there aren't any hyperspace issues.”

Obi-Wan nodded, stepping out of the doorway and into the bright light of Coruscant. 

The ship was a pretty good size; a standard model with red stripes running along its sides. 

The Trial, curious. Obi-Wan didn’t pay ship names much mind, but that was just rather odd. 

Qui-Gon went to go check with the official while Obi-Wan spotted Quinlan leaning against a couple of crates near the door. 

“Vos? How did you know this is where I’d be?”

“Relax man, I just came to say goodbye before you left to go out and find your true love or whatever.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Vos grinned and pulled him into a tight hug, Obi-Wan squirming beneath him.

“Stop that,” he said, finally managing to push his friend back.

“Was Qui-Gon pissed about his food?” Quin asked, gazing hopefully to where Obi-Wan’s master and the other man were still conversing.

“Probably, although not any more than me- I still haven’t had any food yet.” His stomach growled, as if to prove a point.

“Eh, you snooze you lose.”

Obi-Wan grimaced as Vos began to saunter away, his finally parting words being, “Later, buddy! Don’t, like, become a father or anything while you’re gone- I’d hate to miss that.”

Eyeroll. “Goodbye, Vos!”

He shook his head at the sound of his friend’s distant laughter, pacing over to Qui-Gon without so much as a glance backwards. 

“Is everything alright, master?”

“Yes, just making conversation while you and Quinlan said your goodbyes.”

So he did know. Well, that showed Obi-Wan not to underestimate his master. 

“Then lets away.”

Obi-Wan nodded to the man and walked up the ramp into the ship, glancing back at the gleaming building one last time before he took a seat in the cockpit, not even bothering to explore the rest of the ship. He already knew what this model’s interior looked like, and wanted to get this assignment over with as quickly as possible.

Later, Obi-Wan found irony in that wish as he sat in the exact same seat upon the departure of his mission, where the room and his heart had seemed a lot more empty. 

Qui-Gon sat beside him, taking control and handing Obi-Wan the mission log from earlier. 

“What am I to do with this?” He asked, frowning at the tablet-like device. 

“Make notes of the journey,” Qui-Gon replied, “the council emphasized everything is to be included, and since I can’t ever seem to write it the way they want, I thought I’d have you do it.”

“But-”

“Do you have something more productive you could be doing, padawan?”

He shook his head and took the log obligingly without further complaint. It was light in his hands, and he placed it in his lap as he strapped himself in. 

“Our belongings have already been loaded on, everything is in order,” Qui-Gon said, still fiddling with the ship’s settings. 

“Do we have any food?” Obi-Wan asked hopefully. 

Qui-Gon nodded, “It’s back in the kitchen area. Why didn’t you eat earlier?”

Obi-Wan scoffed, “You saw the line, right?”

“You snooze, you lose.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “How about caff?”

Qui-Gon shook his head no, and Obi-Wan deflated. 

“Something tells me that despite my hopes, this is going to be a very long couple of months,” Obi-Wan pouted, leaning his head back against the seat. 

Qui-Gon smiled, “You’re such a pessimist, Obi-Wan. Ready?”

Obi-Wan nodded, “I suppose.”

“Good. Then let’s get this show on the road.”

The ship lifted off, soared out of the atmosphere and into space, and Obi-Wan made sure to note in his report that Qui-Gon forgot which lever to guide forward for hyperspace. When he did find it, darkness and impossibly bright specks of light blended together, and they rocketed forwards before coasting through space, towards destiny. 

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Andy Warhol Arguments

PART TWENTY-NINE OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: vomiting, periods, mentions of parent death, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 5.9K

Summary: Ella feels the stress of her new life in Philadelphia.

Rubbing at his eyes, Jess shut the alarm clock off and furrowed his brows when he saw Ella wasn’t next to him. Her side of the bed was cold and didn’t look nearly as disheveled. But the anxiety at her absence quickly subsided as he walked out into the living room. With papers strewn around on the coffee table in front of her, Ella had spread out on the couch with no blanket, despite the Autumn chill in the air. She was still in her dress from the day before, and it was twisted around her form, riding up her thighs. Mascara was smudged around her eyes. Jess smirked, then went over and began shaking her shoulder gently. The light was soft through the gray curtains, and the sky was overcast. Even still, she squinted as she stirred awake, confused at her location.

“Elle? Wake up,” Jess said, coaxing her out of her groggy state. “Jeez, how late did you stay up?”

She sighed, sitting up and gathering herself. “I don’t know. I was grading essays for at least a couple more hours after you went to bed. But I couldn’t keep my eyes open, so I was just gonna rest for a little while. Obviously, that was naive of me.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek before going to put on the tea and coffee in the kitchen.

“What time is it?” she asked, stretching her arms high over her head as she stood up, her skirt falling around her knees again. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to wake herself up and shake off the throb pulsing behind her eyes.

“Seven,” Jess replied, filling the coffee pot up with water.

Ella nodded, relieved. Her first class wasn’t until nine. At least she would have time to shower off her makeup from the day before, and brush her teeth. The taste in her mouth made her grimace; she couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep without brushing her teeth. It was almost time for midterms at school, and the students in the art history class she was a teacher’s assistant for had just turned in their first major essays. Overall, they were pretty decent. But, she was also never one to shy away from the red pen. Shuffling the stacks of paper on the table into neat rectangles, she stifled a yawn.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said, coming to lean against the island. “I’d probably scare the undergrads if I showed up like this. Thanks for waking me. I would’ve slept forever if I could.”

“I know.” Jess turned on the tea kettle and faced her. “You gotta take it a little easier. I think that vein in your forehead is bound to pop, the way things are going.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Mariano. The concern is appreciated but not necessary.”

“You’ve slept a total of, like, seven hours in the past three days,” he argued.

“Hypocrite,” she scoffed, making for their bedroom again to get fresh clothes.

“Nihilist,” Jess retorted, calling after her. He would’ve worried about the volume of his voice so early in the morning, but he could already hear Matthew and Chris talking through the walls.

Ella chuckled breathily, half-heartedly. “I’m not the one who hung Nietzche above our bed.”

.   .   .

Despite Ella’s time at Luke’s, she had never mastered making breakfast. Or cooking in general. Baking came natural and easy, her pies a hit at every single holiday and gathering she brought them to. But she burned the toast, didn’t fry the bacon long enough, couldn’t get the pancakes just right. Jess, however, had somehow picked up cooking skills between sighs and snide remarks. He and Chris took turns making breakfast sometimes, when everyone didn’t just resort to cereal. It was common knowledge in the apartment, though, that both Ella and Matthew were best away from the kitchen in the morning hours.

As Ella reemerged from the bedroom, her hair damp and braided, her simple black dress loose and comfortable, the smell of the scrambled eggs Jess was making hit her in the face. Pepper and butter and orange juice mixed in, Chris on the couch flipping through the news channels on the TV sat opposite, Matthew at the counter talking with Jess. With everyone up so early, it made sense Jess would make something. She wondered sometimes if it was nostalgia which drove him, serving them food as Luke did his customers. And, of course, he lived above the business he owned just like his uncle. Ella had pointed out the irony to him more than once. After all, Ella knew just how much Jess looked up to Luke, even if he would never admit it in so many words.

Her stomach did a flip instead of growling as it usually would have, as the ache in her head pounded with the beat of her heart. It made her want to sigh audibly, but she bit it back. The only silver lining of the morning had been not bleeding through her dress and onto the couch, her period having shown up at some point in the night. Cramps were already twisting her insides, nauseating her.

“Did you hear what Bush did last night?” Chris asked, head perking up when he saw her enter the room. He held a coffee in one hand, the liquid pale from copious amounts of milk and sugar.

“Please don’t tell me,” she said tiredly, hopping onto a stool next to Matthew. “I can’t handle his idiocy this morning.”

“I’ll spare you, then.”

“Thank you so much.”

Matthew chuckled breathily at them, sipping from his own mug. He was clean-shaven again, having stayed at the apartment for the first time in several days. Still, they did not know the name of the mysterious girlfriend.

“He’s never that nice to me,” Matthew said, his words a joking sigh.

Ella shrugged. “He owes me for covering his ass when he pissed off that spoken word lady last week.”

“Not my fault,” Chris chimed in from the couch, defensive.

“Right, so when you told her she wasn’t as important as the other woman, that wasn’t your fault? Someone else said that?” Ella prodded, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Chris sighed heavily. “I didn’t say that. She just heard me wrong.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Ella chided.

Scoffing, Chris turned his eyes back to the TV and said nothing more. Ella snorted at his petulance, facing ahead where Jess stood over the stove. With a spatula in one hand and the handle of a frying pan in the other, she was reminded again of their days at the diner. Of a lonely morning when Luke had an appointment and Ella had gotten into a fight with her father. It was the first time Jess had made her breakfast. A wistful look crossed her face, and she was lost in thought when Jess put her tea down in a mug in front of her.

“Earth to Eleanor,” he said, waving a hand in front of her face. “What, thinking about Emily Dickinson again?”

“Close, but no,” she replied, blinking herself out of her daze and taking the mug with both hands. She blew steam from the top and shot him a small smile. “Thanks, cutie.”

Rolling his eyes, Jess went back to the stove with a flushed face. He didn’t have to look back over to know she had a teasing grin on her lips. Since their ride to California, she’d been poking at him with the nickname. He thought she would let it go, but then he remembered who he was dealing with. And though he wouldn’t admit it, as he blushed, it was growing on him just a touch. Besides, he knew it was due retaliation for ‘honey,’ which he still used on a daily basis.

“You want toast with these eggs?” he asked, hoping his face would cool down sometime soon.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella shook her hand. “No thanks, actually, I’m good without either. Just tea is fine.”

Jess’s brows furrowed immediately and he looked up from his work, tilting his head at her. “Really? You sure?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m not hungry.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. Getting a good look at her, he thought she was paler than normal, though it could have just been his imagination. Lack of sleep probably wasn’t helping her pallor, anyway.

“You might be hungry later.”

“Well, I’ll come back here for lunch. Four hours isn’t so long,” she said, her tone light against his puzzled gaze.

“Okay, Stevens,” he said suspiciously, but then let the subject drop. It was strange for her to skip breakfast, sure. But it was also strange for her to stay up half the night grading papers; perhaps she was just having an off day.

Her eyes lingered on his a little longer, but she kept her emotions masked beneath a complacent smile. Eventually, Jess focused back on the eggs which he was apparently making for himself. Matthew had a plate in front of him, and Chris had already scarfed his down.

“Oh my god, guys,” Chris piped up from the couch again.

Ella suppressed a groan; he updated them on various happenings from the news every single morning. The information was rarely relevant to anything.

“What?” Jess asked flatly, putting the eggs on his own plate and setting them down across the counter from Ella. He leaned against the tiled surface as he ate.

“There’s like three people in Berkeley with mad cow disease,” Chris answered, a shocked look on his face. Ella had no idea how he kept up so much energy, and could be so consistently amazed at the world around him. It was a little exhausting, but endearing nonetheless.  

She scoffed. “Good thing I couldn’t afford it, then.”

Jess nodded knowingly as he chewed.

“What?” Matthew asked.

“Oh,” Ella said casually, taking another sip of the tea. She wished it was green, but Jess would almost certainly have more questions for her, about whether she was getting a migraine, if she drank that. Already, she could see him trying to get her to stay home. And she simply couldn’t flake so close to mid-terms. “When I was a kid, I always wanted to go to Berkeley. Maybe because it was the farthest place I could think of. But I’d never been there. And after finally making it to California, I’d say it’s a good thing the tuition was too insane for me to handle.”

A bark of a laugh came from Chris. “Yeah, you’re too pretentious for anything but the East coast.”

“I am not,” she retorted, not even turning around to face him again. “Maybe I’m just too much of a realist for that hippie bullshit.”

“More like a stick-up-your-ass killjoy, but sure, I guess realist is another way to put it,” Chris said, with self-satisfied lilt in his tone.

“Fuck off,” she shot back lazily. Both Jess and Matthew watched on in amusement, as they had grown accustomed to doing, while she continued. “You’re just pissed you’re not deep enough to understand true art. All you can wrap your brain around is ABBA and Andy Warhol.”

“Andy Warhol was an American treasure!”

Ella finally turned around to see Chris shooting daggers at her. “Andy Warhol was a sellout! I have a whole book about him; you can borrow it!”

“Oh, well, if a book says so,” Chris mocked, feigning belief.

She laughed. “It’s too early and there’s just not enough time for me to explain to you how wrong you are. I gotta get to class. Professor Stanton wants me to go over her presentation with her before.”

Getting down off the stool, she rushed behind the counter and gave Jess a long kiss goodbye. Her feet felt heavy in her black oxfords as she went over to the door, donning her peacoat from the rusty rack and grabbing her bag.

“See you for lunch at noon?” she asked, throwing one last look at Jess.

He nodded, gave her a reassuring smile. She seemed frazzled and uneasy. “I’ll be here, Daria.”

“Just checking, James Dean.”

“Bye, Ella,” Matthew said.

Ella gave him a little wave and rolled her eyes when Chris was silent from the couch, pouting over her slight to his god, Andy Warhol. “Fuck you very much, Chris.”

He yelled an cheerful obscenity back to her as she raced out the door, the old bronze clock down in the main room of Truncheon chiming half past eight.

.   .   .

By lunch, her headache had progressed to a full-on migraine, but she still had one more class and office hours to attend to, so she was pressing on. The day was chilly, a faint drizzle misting her as she trudged up the sidewalk back to Truncheon. She made a note to herself to grab an umbrella before leaving again; at least it hadn’t started pouring on her walk. Her old shoulder bag was dragging on her tired frame, packed to the brim with books and papers. The green fabric was faded to almost gray, as she had been lugging the bag around since high school. But it had yet to rip or fray, and she’d added a few patches to the front at some point during college. What wasn’t broken, she didn’t intend trying to fix. Why waste the time?

She was glad to be met with the familiar smell of old books as she reentered the small publishing company. Matthew was reorganizing shelves to his preference, silent and analytical. Hanging her bag and coat on the hook by the door, she ran her hands up and down over her own arms in an attempt to warm up. The tights she wore were thin and cheap. Chris was nowhere to be seen, which Ella was almost grateful for. As much as she enjoyed the two guys, Jess was the only one she wanted in the moment. And though what she really wanted was to lean her head on his shoulder and fall asleep, an hour for lunch up in the apartment, as they had every day, would have to do.

Sluggish as she ascended the stairs, Ella felt a gnawing hunger in her stomach, but was nervous to eat. With the cramps ripping up her insides, she knew whatever she downed might just come back up. Jess was already upstairs, reading at the counter, when she opened the door to the apartment, and he looked up with a tiny smirk as she walked in.

“Hey, Daria,” he said, marking the place in his book and tossing it aside.

She shot him a weak smile of greeting and made for the fridge, scanning the various homemade leftovers and takeout boxes. Jess came up behind her, peering in over her shoulder. At his closeness and his aroma of pine, she breathed a sigh of relief and stopped what she was doing. Just having him near made her feel better instantly, knowing she would come home to him at the end of the day.  A mixture of emotions welled inside her, rising up in her throat. Shutting the fridge door and spinning around to face him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and enveloped him in an embrace. His arms twined around her waist instinctively, but he let out a surprised chuckle.

“Hey.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt and when she pulled away, Jess thought he saw a fond sorrow in her eyes. She pressed a kiss to his lips.

He tilted his head at her when their lips were separated again. “What was that for?”

Ella shrugged. “No reason.”

Soon, they sat next to each other at the island with a container of cold lo mein split on two plates in front of them. Breaking the comfortable silence, Jess set his fork down and turned to her, a hesitant look on his face. He had held off telling her as long as he could stand; he could rant about it forever, but still didn’t want to say a word.

“Liz called me earlier,” he began, watching her glance up from her plate, where she pushed her food around, noncommittal.

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Um...she’s pregnant.” Jess ran a hand over his mouth and sighed lightly.

Her eyes perked up in surprise. “What?”

“Unfortunately, it seems TJ’s incompetence in everything else didn’t extend to his reproductive skills.”

She snorted a half-hearted laugh and trained her eyes on him carefully. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Okay, chatty Kathy,” she said, taking a sip of her water and then facing him fully. “But, how do you feel about it?”

“Honestly, Elle?” he asked, his tone dejected. He didn’t quite meet her gaze. “I don’t know. Jimmy’s got a stepdaughter. Now, Liz is gonna have a new kid. It’s...I don’t know. I just hope she doesn’t binge-drink quite as much as she did with me.”

Ella furrowed her brows.

“I was five weeks early and I weighed something like four pounds. She says she doesn’t remember most of being pregnant,” Jess explained, a bitter tinge to his words.

“Jesus Christ,” Ella muttered, shaking her head slightly, not in disbelief but in simple sadness for him.

Jess shrugged dismissively. “But, hey, now she’s gonna get a second try. I’m sure the next one won’t be as much trouble as I was.”

“Hey,” she said firmly, bringing a cold hand to his cheek, stroking his skin affectionately with her thumb, “it was her fucking fault.”

“I know,” he said quietly, suddenly struck by her blunt tenderness. It filled him up, but made his insides flutter. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Alright,” she whispered, waiting a moment longer before she dropped her hand back from his face. “But if you do-”

“I know,” he repeated, light to disguise the pit in his stomach.

“Good.”

.   .   .

Bowie played softly on the record player and Ella sat up against the wall behind the bed. She was still in her black cotton dress, though she had let her hair down from its braid, hoping to relieve some of the pressure behind her temples. A dull ache was constant in her lower stomach, occasionally tightening to a sharp burst of pain. Her breath was slow and steady, as she hoped to relax her muscles. She wrote against the thick stack of paper in her lap, only a few essays left. Maybe she could actually get a chance to sleep a sensible amount. She’d been at it since the moment she got upstairs at three in the afternoon, and her eyes were dry and hot in her skull. Rain pattered against the window on her left, the pane fogged up from the cold day.

A creak sounded in the room as the door opened, and she peeked down at her watch. It was nearly six; she hadn’t realized how much time she’d spent sitting in the same position, staring at the endless pages of Times New Roman. Jess walked in with socked feet, a crease of concern between his brows as he strode over to the bed.

“Hey, you almost done?” he asked, sitting down on the end and running his hand up and down the back of her calf.

She bit the inside of her cheek as she finished scribbling a comment on the side of a page. Then, she looked up at him with an exhausted, pale face. “Sort of. I’ve still got a few to go.”

“Why don’t you take a break?” Jess asked. When their work day had ended at five-thirty, he’d come up to find her pouring over the assignments. It was clear she was concentrating hard, and he’d silently come over and placed a kiss on her forehead in greeting before leaving her to her work. The worry had not left him in the hour he’d been sitting on the couch with a Barker novel in his hands and an old sitcom on the TV. “We ordered pizza. Half mushroom.”

A smile formed on her lips, less strained than it had looked all day. Mushroom was her favorite on pizza. “Maybe in a little while. I don’t finish what I need to, and they could definitely replace me with another TA.”

Jess scoffed in disbelief at her unfounded fear. “Where else are they gonna find a Lily Briscoe nihilist who dresses like it’s 1994?”

“Same place they’d find another Kerouac wannabe who knows close-up magic tricks,” she quipped coolly, going back to her work. Her patience was wearing. No matter how much her mind was screaming for a reprieve, she simply needed to finish. Some strong fire burned within her, forcing her to be productive or suffer intense guilt.

He gasped in mock offense. “Low blow, Stevens. The magic phase was not my best, I will admit. But, it was really only to impress a certain waitress.”

“Well, when you talk to her, tell her I think she should raise her standards,” Ella replied, not looking up from the paper.

Jess sighed in frustration, taking his hand from her leg. When she got into her working zone, one he recognized well from high school, it certainly took some effort to get her out. But rarely was she quite so irritated. “You’ve barely eaten anything all day, Eleanor.”

“Didn’t realize I was under surveillance, Jess.”

Rising from the bed again, Jess rolled his eyes. “The pizza’s gonna be here in fifteen minutes. You don’t come out, and I’ll tell Chris how much you hate jazz. You’ll have to face his wrath.”

“I think I can handle him,” Ella said flatly. Still, she didn’t lift her eyes from the writing.

“You’ve been warned,” Jess chagrined, shutting the door behind him gently.

.   .   .

The growling of her stomach ultimately forced her out of the bed, the stack of papers left on the nightstand with the red pen neatly atop it. She decided she didn’t need anymore arguing with Chris for the day. And the hungrier she got, the worse her headache was. Searing pain radiated all the way through her brain, but she tried to quiet it the best she could. She hadn’t experienced a migraine in a long while, but remembered how to power through it. It was better to at least attempt to eat, she decided. She hated the odd dichotomy of the nauseating cramps and the intense hunger.

A smug smirk formed on Jess’s face when she opened the door, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Oh, look. Judas,” Chris said from his spot in the armchair, still offended from the morning’s Andry Warhol argument.

“Not my fault you can’t handle the truth,” she replied, going over to the fridge and grabbing a ginger ale. She didn’t know whether the ginger ale soothing stomach trick worked with period cramps, but it was worth a shot. She popped it open and took a few sips before placing it on the end table near the windows and flopping down on the weathered green couch next to Jess.

“Your stomach okay?” he asked, an eyebrow raised at her choice of drink.

She shrugged dismissively, her face wan. “I’m fine, Mariano.”

“You sure you’re not pregnant?” Chris teased, glancing at Jess. “Apparently it’s in the water.”

Jess swallowed dryly at the reference to his mother’s news. Both Matthew and Chris had overheard snippets of the phone conversation.

“Believe me, I’m not,” Ella answered, running her hand through her hair and sweeping it over one shoulder. The back of her neck was hot beneath it.

“But how could you know?” Chris continued, a mocking twinkle in his blue eyes.

As she shot him a withering stare, Ella’s lips turned up in a thin, sardonic smile. Her tone was cold and venomous. “One guess. I’m sure it’ll come to you, Einstein.”

After a moment with furrowed brows, realization crossed his features and his eyes widened. Chris blushed and said nothing more. Jess snickered at him and brought an arm around Ella, unphased.

Goosebumps rose on her skin at his touch, as she leaned her head on his shoulder. A slight sigh escaped her lips as she allowed herself to slacken against him, seeing the Frasier rerun playing on the grainy television across from them. Matthew sat on Jess’s other side, working on something which looked like an inventory sheet. She could certainly identify with his workaholic side. He leaned over and told her the pizza would be there any minute. Nodding, she put a hand on her anxious stomach and shut her eyes. She hadn’t felt the fatigue weighing her down fully until she gave into it, suddenly worried she could fall asleep at any moment.

Jess looked down at her, a crease of concern reappearing between his brows. Frowning, he took in her flushed face and placed his hand to her forehead. Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought she seemed feverish. “You feel warm.”

“The heat’s on. Our room is stuffy. I’ve been in there a few hours. Really, cutie, I’m just tired,” she said shortly, not opening her eyes and shifting to get more comfortable. His skin was cool against hers. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she was running a slight temperature. Sleep deprivation and her period both sometimes caused a tiny fever for her separately; it would be less than a shock if together they’d had a bit of an effect.

His eyes lingered on her doubtfully, but a knock then sounded on the door. Jess dug in his pocket with a free hand to find a few crumpled bills, handing them to Matthew, who went to greet the pizza guy. In a few minutes, they were back in their respective spots with grease-splotched paper towels, holding cheap pizza. Matthew and Chris were deep in a debate about the acts to book for the following week, and were throwing around the idea of an open mic night. Jess didn’t have much to say on the matter, instead watching as Ella ventured a few bites of her slice and kept her eyes on the TV, trying to ignore his watchful gaze. Not even Luke had ever been so concerned over her well-being, insofar as whether she had something she could potentially spread to customers. Only her mother stuck out as a caregiver in her life, and of course, no time in recent memory. It was just Jess.

“You’re staring, Romeo,” she snapped after a while, realizing he wasn’t going to quit.

“Thought I was a Mercutio?” he asked through a mouthful of pizza.

Scoffing, annoyed, Ella felt the mixture of both hunger and discomfort mingling in her stomach again. “Not tonight. Remember how much Romeo stared?”

“It rings a bell. But I also haven’t read that since ninth grade English.”

“You did reading for school?” she asked doubtfully, snorting a laugh.

He nodded. “I had gold stars plastered all over my forehead.”

“Oh, yeah, I can just picture it,” she said, taking another bite, almost finished with her piece. “Romeo and Juliet sucks anyway.”

“Once again,” he said, shaking his head at her in feigned disappointment, “so blasphemous.”

“And still, you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

He shrugged. “Sad but true.”

She chuckled, about to retort in the easy way she always could, but instead there was a shift in her features. Her freckled cheeks drained completely and tinged to a slight green. Saying nothing, she put the back of a hand to her mouth and she hopped up, rushing towards the bathroom. Not running, but definitely rushing. Her movements were silent but swift as she shut the door behind her with a slam. Chris and Matthew didn’t even notice until the sound rang out in the apartment. Jess sighed heavily, going after her. Pressed up against the door, he could hear her gagging.

“Eleanor?” he asked, knocking.

Knees grounded on the blue tile of the bathroom floor, Ella found she couldn’t reply through her breathless retching, bent over the toilet bowl. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and her nose began to run.

“I’m coming in,” Jess said resolutely.

Ella would’ve cursed at herself if she’d been able, realizing she had forgotten to lock the door in her race to make it to the toilet. Before she could protest, Jess took her hair in one hand and began rubbing circles on her back with the other. His touch was deliberate and gentle, and almost made her want to cry harder than she already was, her entire body radiating embarrassment.

“Fuck, Jess, get out,” she pleaded through bouts of vomiting. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I can see that, Linda Blair,” he deadpanned, not moving from his spot.

Eventually, the swirling in her stomach stopped, and her breathing became regular again. She flushed and immediately went to the sink to splash cold water on her face, rinsing her mouth out and brushing her teeth thoroughly. Jess watched carefully from where he sat on the edge of the blue tub. She wiped her face with the hand towel and threw it back down next to the sink in frustration. Her body was strained and tired, and she sat down heavily next to him when she was finished. She brought her elbows to her knees, holding her chin in her hands.

“You okay?” Jess asked, tucking some hair behind her ear to expose her cheek. He pressed the back of his hand against it, noting how hot she still was. The puking probably hadn’t helped, though.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry over,” he replied lightly. “I mean I’m sorry for getting on you about not eating. I just thought you were working through meals like you used to in high school. I didn’t know you felt sick.”

“I’m not sick, Jess.”

“Eleanor, you were just puking your guts out like two minutes ago,” he said, eyebrows raised. “And I’m pretty sure you have a fever.”

Ella sighed, sniffling though the tears had stopped involuntarily streaming down her cheeks. “When I was a kid, I used to run a temperature when I didn’t sleep enough. And the whole Exorcist routine is because of my period.”

“Really? Usually, you seem like you feel okay when you’re on your period.”

She chuckled. Most of the time, they had sex every night when she was on her period. The hormones were often a pleasant experience in her case. Such bad cramps hadn’t afflicted her since before she’d started the pill at age fifteen, either. “I usually hardly even have cramps. But I got on new birth control this month and stress can also make things way worse. Sleep deprivation, too. I don’t know. The perfect storm.”

His face softened sympathetically. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re insane.”

“Oh, well how could I possibly take that the wrong way?” she quipped through slight laughter.

“You’re working so hard, you’re literally making yourself sick,” he explained. “Not that you’re gonna listen to me, but I really think you should ease up if you don’t wanna have a stroke before you’re thirty.”

Again, she sighed, straightening up and averting her gaze. “I just...if I’m working as hard as I can, I’m not worrying as much about losing my spot in the graduate program.”

“Why would you lose your spot?” he asked, his brow crinkling. Maybe he shouldn’t have laughed her off so easily before.

“I don’t know. I just worry about it. Anything’s possible,” she said.

And he could see her mind was off somewhere other than Philadelphia. It was back in Stars Hollow, on the night when her mother had died and she’d lost everything out of the blue. Pieces fell into place, and all of a sudden he understood. Why she had been staying up late and editing papers more heavily than she needed to and running herself ragged only halfway through the semester. To Eleanor, nothing was permanent, nothing could be counted on. The feeling wasn’t lost on him, considering he had a new fake daddy pretty much every year as a child, but he hadn’t even seen a semblance of stability in his life until moving to Luke’s. He remembered how different it was not having to worry about losing the apartment for unpaid rent or having all of his possessions stolen by some deadbeat his mother had inexplicably allowed into their lives. But Ella had lived in a home that had a least a decent amount of security for fourteen years before the rug was pulled out from under her. That was the difference, and it was an important one.

“Elle?”

“Hm?” She lifted her eyes, slightly glassy, up to his.

“No matter what happens with this grad school thing, or after, anything is not possible with me,” he said in earnest. “Because I was yours the first time I saw you five years ago. At this point, I can say with complete certainty that’s never gonna change.”

Breathing out a long breath through her nose, Ella couldn’t help the smile which bloomed on her face. Before, he’d said he fell in love with her that night in the gazebo. Maybe he had been holding back so he wouldn’t scare her, though the time he’d asked her to run away with him and told her he loved her hadn’t exactly been his most restrained moment. She didn’t know. And, the idea that it had actually been the minute when they’d met all those years ago in the diner was so preposterous in her realist mind, she had to tease him at least a little. “Love at first sight, huh? Time has really made you soft, Mariano. The Hemingway, too.”

“I’m serious, Stevens,” he continued, though a smirk tugged at his own lips. “And, for the record, there’s no way in hell they’re gonna kick you out of that program. They’re lucky you even accepted their offer. Please, just take a fucking sick day tomorrow. Watch Stephen King, and drink green tea, and eat peanut butter out of the jar.”

A moment passed between them, and finally she gave a slow nod. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely. And because this is the most disgusting I’ve felt since that time I drank my dad’s tequila.”

He chuckled, bringing an arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Good. By tomorrow night, you’ll feel like one of the living again.”

Leaning into his side again, she was so utterly relieved. A weight she didn’t know she had been carrying lifted from within her. The nerves and the worry weren’t gone, but for the first time, perhaps ever, she truly believed Jess. She trusted him so completely it shocked her. They weren’t the same people they had been when he’d run away to California. But they still fit together exactly right. And it wasn’t going to change. She pulled away from him, placing a hand on the back of his neck and running her fingers through the ends of his hair affectionately.

“I love you.”

For a moment, Jess’s breath caught in his throat and he thought his heart would explode from joy. But, instead, his grin grew more genuine. “That’s nice, but I kinda figured.”

She rolled her eyes, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “Such a jackass.”

“So I’ve heard,” he replied easily, then took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I love you too.”

[jay-and-dean]

Jerk

Gif not mine, found on Google

Dean x Reader

This is my first AU, it’s a request from @thatgirl1456 : I hope you’ll like what I wrote.

Can you write a one shot where the reader and dean are in high school but they absolutely hate each other. But then Sam like ends up in the hospital cuz a accident and the reader was there and helped him. Dean reaches the hospital and sees her and some how they start to fighting. But somehow they end up together as a couple. (Reader is the captain of the varsity volleyball team and Dean is the quarterback for the football team) pleassseee and thankkk youuu😘😘😘🥰

Warnings : swearing (have you seen the title), angst, fluff.

Words : 4k

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

____________________________

MONDAY

             Look at this fucker.

           No really, look at him.

           He’s joking with the lunch lady, just trying to get what he wants, as usual, not because he needs something, just because he wants special treatment, just to have more, to be better than anyone once again... The lady is under his spell, laughing at his stupid joke ; that woman is usually sour, but as oh-so-charming-quarterback is talking to her, she smiles like an idiot. Jock.

This is how he works, seducing his way to get anything, or way out of anything. I despise this kind of guy, the kind that always had everything and doesn’t know what real life is. Like people only exist to serve them.

Watching him train when our teams are both outside is unbearable, my girls all drooling on him while he does everything he can for them to look at him... Stupid jerk.

I bet he’s rich too. I bet his parents throw huge parties each time he succeeds on something or do them a little favor or even poops, since he’s born. And I bet he thinks poverty is a type of music.

He doesn't even work in class, just jokes and flirts with every stupid girl in his sight ; he knows he can count on sport to save him. And it works...

The last few month are even worse, now he doesn't just ignores me, he picks on me,  implying I act like a spoiled child every time I open my mouth in class. He just doesn't know how hard I work...

I hate that guy.

His super bright smile and his perfect jaw, the way he walks like he owned the place, that cocky attitude, that fake kindness…

Fuck Dean Winchester.

“I don’t understand why you hate that guy so much” Laura says.

"Laura, you just find him attractive..." I grunt.

"Actually not only Y/n, he's kind, he's not a bully, he cares about his little brother... and, yes, he's very, like VERY attractive... Look at his butt" she sighs dreamingly, putting her chin in her hand. 

As she says that, my eyes catch his little brother entering shyly with a little paper bag. His hair falling on his face, like a mask, like he needed to hide. Not a bully... Yeah I'm not that sure. How can one brother look so miserable when the other acts like he owns the world. I'm sure that douche is awfully mean to his nerd little brother.

           The thing is I like his brother, he's a smart kid. I had the opportunity to hear him submit projects and read what he wrote for the High school's newspaper. He seems to be a good guy too, interested in international laws... He acts like he wants to save the world.

           The minutes Sam enters the room to eat alone as usual, Dean rushes toward him. I don't hear what he tells him but he seems pissed. He opens Sam's bag callously and rolls his eyes, then he half screams half whispers at his brother's face. When cute little Sam seems sad, I have enough and decide to step in.

"Hey, Dean, why don't you lay into someone your size for once ?" I say, stopping in front of him.

"That's none of your business, Y/n" he grunts.

And I see worry spread on Sam's face.

"I think it is. Why don't you let him eat alone ? I'm sure he has enough of your nastiness at home. I bet your parents don't see through this, but I do."

There it is : The true face of Dean Winchester. His green eyes darken and his jaw clench, every ounce of fake kindness has left his face.

"It's okay..." Sam tries but Dean makes him freeze just lifting his hand.

"Listen to me, bitch, what I say to my brother is none of your concern. So back off."

"Or what ?" I dare, my eyes glued to his, my body tense.

"Stop !" Sam stands up and takes his brother's arm to lead him outside.

"I'll keep an eye on you, Dean !" I shout.

"I bet you will, frustrated bitch !" He states loud.

Everyone is looking at us, even Laura seems to disapprove my words. Why is everyone so seduced by this asshole ?

 ***

TUESDAY

             The hall is empty. I take the opportunity to go talk to the Principal, I need him to agree on my proposition for the Volleyball Team, we can't afford loosing, not after such a perfect season, I'm so proud of the hard work my team accomplished... I walk with a smile on my face but when I turn in the hallway, I stop.

           Dean.

           He's sitting nonchalantly slumped on the chair facing the Principal's office, probably waiting for mommy and daddy to fix whatever mess he's made. When he sees me, he rolls his eyes in an exaggerated sigh.

"Are you here to denounce someone ?" he mocks.

"Are you here for hitting a 8 or 9th grade, jerk ?"

"Fuck you" he grunts.

I lean against the wall next to the Principal door. After a few minutes of waiting in an unbearable silence, the doors open and the Principal starts to talk. He doesn't see me.

"M. Winchester, I had your father on the phone, he says we need to use an exemplary severity with you..."

Dean looks up at me through his thick lashes, he seems angry, probably embarrassed that Mr. Grahams didn't see me. But there is something else in those eyes, something I've never seen, something weak or true, or both : shame.

"So you'll stay in detention after class everyday for two months" the Principal states and Dean's face turns pale.

"What ? No ! No no no please I can't I have..."

"Better things to do ?" Mr. Grahams cuts him. "I don't think so, it's the fifth assignment you don't do. For the last few month you barely show up in time in class... Next time maybe I will leave you without trainings for a few months.”

“No…Please” Dean looks down.

“Well you know what to do Mr. Winchester…”

Dean gets up and looks at me with dark eyes, then he leaves with his hands in his pockets.

           When Mr. Grahams finally notices me, his face changes, and a warm smile appears on his face.

"Ah, finally a student worth my time !" he states and I glance at Dean, slowly walking in the hallway.

I know he heard that. And I'm glad his little game doesn't work on the Principal... still, I have a feeling Dean might be hurt...

What are you thinking about Y/n ! Who cares ! The bully had it coming.

 ***

WEDNESDAY

           I sit on the stairs and take my notebook, it’s a little late and the Sun is already setting slowly but I need to work math a little, and take time alone to think about the next game. I didn’t tell Laura where I was because that’s one of those times when I want to be alone for a while and she always joins me.

           I like to stay outside a bit after class, my parents allow it because they know I always come back for diner. They know how much pressure I put on myself with the Team and all.

           After a few minutes, Sam Winchester sits on another stair and I can’t help but look at him from the corner of my eye. This boy is a mystery to me. What his he doing here so late ?

           I take a deep breath and close my book. I know I should leave him alone but I have to be sure he’s okay, and to apologize for embarrassing him monday in the cafeteria.

“Sam ?”

He turns his kind eyes toward me and frowns a little.

“Y/n…" I introduce myself even if we've seen each other a few times. "I’m… Do you remember me ?”

He nods.

“I’m sorry for the other day… I’m just… What are you doing alone ?”

He shrugs.

“Sam ? Is everything okay ?” I insist.

“Yes… I’m waiting for Dean…”

I clench my jaw, this fucker must have forgot him, or he doesn’t care and is fucking one of those brainless bitches.

“Why don’t you call your parents ?”

He lifts his head and his beautiful changing colors eyes drown in mine. He has this look I saw on his brother’s face, shame. He shrugs again.

“Do you want me to take you home ?” I ask.

“No, thank you. I have to wait for Dean, he will be worried sick if I don’t wait for him.”

“Worried huh ?”

His stomach rumbles, probably with hunger, and I bite my lip.

“Sammy ?” Dean’s voice interrupts us. “What are you doing here, bitch ?” he grunts.

"Making sure your brother doesn't spend the night alone !" I shout at his face.

"Come on Sammy, let's go home" he ignores me, and Sam gets up to follow him.

"That's it run away in your stupid car !" I states but he keeps ignoring me.

They both enter the black Chevy Impala that douche loves so much, probably more than his little brother. And Dean shows me his middle finger before he starts the engine.

           I hate that jerk.

 ***

FRIDAY

             A storm is raging. I won't be able to sit on the stairs today. Laura waves at me rushing out of the building, her bag above her head. I try to open my umbrella but the wind almost breaks it. So I run toward my car.

           I drive slow, the pouring rain makes it really difficult to see the road, and, with the heat, a thick mist forms inside the car. I didn't even turn the music on as I usually do.

           Suddenly, a car appears in the other side of the road out of nowhere, way too fast, and I hear a loud screech of tires. As I'm sure it will collide with me, I have the dangerous reflex to close my eyes for a second. Then nothing.

           I open my eyes and notice I'm shaking. I look at my hands, everything is normal. No impact, no pain, no blood. I breathe out loudly, exhaling all the air I had kept in my lungs.

           I turn my head and see the car almost fell into the ditch. Shit ! I open my door, still trembling from the intense fear, and walk toward it under the rain. A man comes out of it, he looks panicked.

"Are you okay ?" I shout to be heard over the storm's deafening sound.

The man looks shocked, looking nowhere in particular.

"Mister ?" I insist, looking inside of the car to check he was alone in it.

"The b-boy" he mutters.

"The boy ?" I ask loud, rain falling in my eyes. "What boy ?"

He points at the ditch and my eyes widen.

           Sam Winchester is laying here, his bag still firmly held in his hand.

"Oh God, I'm sorry" the man cries without moving at all.

I run toward Sam and my shaking hands don't dare to touch him. I know it can make things worse. I check his pulse and don't find it at first, but he moves.

"Dean..." he whines.

"I'll call him, don't... don't move Sam. It's Y/n, you remember me ?" I say pushing his hair out of his face. "Call 911 !" I yell at the man standing behind me.

           While he does, I look at Sam's body. I don't see blood but he looks so intensely in pain. I take his phone from his pocket to look for his parents number.

"J-jerk" Sam mutters.

I don't understand at first but then I see a number called Jerk in his phone. Of course... I call it but a voicemail starts before the phone even rang.

Hey it's Dean Winchester, leave me alone.

More than ever, his cocky attitude makes me want to hurt someone. I call three more times. Nothing.

"What are your parent's number Sam ?" I try but he coughs blood and I start to panic.

"Oh my God, stay with me Sam, I'm not leaving your side."

"I'm sorry" the man says behind me. "I-I... I didn't see..."

I really don't have time to deal with his guilt right now.

"What did they say ?" I groan.

"They're coming" he cries. "Listen, tell the boy I'm sorry..."

"What ?"

Before I can react the man enters his car and makes the wheels turn fast, then he leaves.

"What !" I start to shake. "Are you... Fucking serious..."

A hot tear runs down my cheek as I realize I'm alone with a maybe dying Sam, and I only notice it among the rain drops because it's burning.

"Okay, hey Sam stay with me okay ? I'm staying with you, just stay with me..."

 ***

             While the phone rings I notice blood on my hand. I walk in the hall, my legs still shaking.

"Hey sweetie, where are you ?" my mom answers.

"Mom, don't freak out, I'm at the hospital but I'm not hurt."

"What ? What happened ?"

"There is this guy, he got hit by a car and, I found him. I-I can't reach his family so I will stay here a little longer with him okay ? I promised I won't leave his side so..."

"Oh, Y/n you have such a good heart... Okay do you need dad or me to join you ? Is it bad ? Give me the boy's name, I'll try to reach his family."

"Thank you mom... It's Sam, Sam Winchester..."

"Is it Dean's brother ?" she asks with a worried tone and I frown.

"Y-yeah... why ? How do you know Dean ?"

She doesn't answer but repeats her question.

"Is it bad Y/n ?"

"I don't know, they took him for tests, but, he... he was coughing blood mom..."

"Oh God sweetie, I'm on my way..."

"No mom, it's okay, just, if you know Dean, try to reach him please..."

 ***

             I look down at Sam, he's asleep, but out of danger. I look at his phone and feel so sad, no one comes for him...

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BROTHER !" Dean suddenly yells entering the room.

He runs toward Sam and takes his face in his hands.

"What did I do ? I can't believe it !" I shake my head in disbelief and push his shoulder to make him face me. "Where were you huh ? Banging a slut ? Why was your brother walking on the side of the road under the rain ? Why didn't you answer your fucking phone ? Are you serious !"

"Fuck you bitch" he pushes me.

"Excuse me ?" I scream. "I'm the one who stayed with Sam while you were MIA !"

"Hey Sammy, I'm here..." he starts ignoring me again.

"Dean ! I'm talking to you ! Where are your parents ? Call them ! You're not good enough for your brother !" I say losing my calm.

He turn toward me and his eyes darken, he pushes me, almost making me fall.

"Oh you're going to hit me, asshole ?"

"Fuck you Y/n, just fuck you, let Sam and me be. Go back to your perfect life, to your perfect family and forget about Sam and me !"

"My perfect..." I start to grunt but something makes me stop.

He cries.

Dean Winchester is crying burning tears.

"Please, Y/n..." he pleads, suddenly weak. "Thank you for saving him okay ? Just... leave us now. Please..."

           His voice just broke my heart and while I wait outside of Sam's room I try to think. Who is Dean Winchester ? Why no parents showed up ?... Why do I feel the urge to hug this awful distress away ?

"Sweetie" my mom enters the corridor.

"Mom, I told you not to come" I say, hugging her.

"Well I had to drive Dean, I couldn't let him drive after I told him Sam was in the hospital, he would have put himself in danger..."

I turn to look at the room door.

"How do you know Dean ?" I dare.

"He started to work in the shop after school a few months ago. He's such a nice guy..."

"He works at the bookshop ? Every days ?" I ask, strangled.

"Yes" she states. "He works so hard..."

           After a few minutes, Dean walks out of the room and my mom rushes toward him.

"Did he woke up ?" she asks, putting a kind hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, he told me to go home" he smiles sadly. "One of the broken ribs damaged his lungs, but now the doctor say he's going to be fine..." his voice is so exhausted.

"You're coming home with us, Dean" my mother states.

"Thank you Mrs. Y/L/N, but I'm sure Y/n doesn't want me around. You've already done so much."

"Dean..." she insists. "Have you got something to eat in your fridge ?"

This is how my mom works, always wondering if people eat enough, sleep enough, she's a good mother.

"I..." he tries but she cuts him.

"That's what I thought. You're not going home alone, Dean..."

 ***

             Dean never looks at me. He's awkward and shy. My mom gives him food and he eats like he's been starving for days. I just sit here, watching him in disbelief. What if I was mistaking ?

"So Dean ?" my dad makes me jump when he talks. "Your parents are out of town ?"

"My dad is, Sir" he answers with such precaution I wonder if he talks this way to his own father. Then I remember the Principal saying that his dad asked him to be very strict. "He's a marine and... well he's not often home. Sammy haven't seen him for months..."

"And you have ?" my father asks, crooking an eyebrow.

"No... it, it doesn't count, I mean it's... Sam is more important. He's younger..."

"I see... my wife told me you were selfless... And your mother ?"

"She died, Sir" he answers still not looking at me and my heart breaks. "She died in a fire when my brother was a baby. My dad pretty much works his pain away since then..."

How could I be so wrong... I get up and clean the table before Dean can do it, just because I need to do something for him, it's my silent way to say I'm sorry. He lift his gaze on me for the first time when my hand brushes his. I take his plate and he mutters a thank you.

"You seem like a good boy, Dean. And my wife told me you have a very pretty car... Do you like mechanics ?"

"Yeah ! It's a 67 Chevy Impala, it's my dad's car. I do love mechanics" the green eyed boy says.

"Would you come to my work someday ? I own a car shop."

"I would love that Sir, but I have school and the detentions and my job..." he lower his eyes.

I look at my dad and I know he can read how sad I am for Dean... The hate disappeared. It's like I truly saw him for the first time.

"I heard you work to pay for Sam's college" my dad states and I realize my mother knows him way better than I do.

"Yes, Sir. I'm not that smart but Sam is, and he wants to get a law degree... My... My dad doesn't want him to. He wants us to join him in the army... I might have to but if Sam can go to college..."

"I'll pay you" my dad cuts him. "Listen, my wife likes you, she says you're kind and from what I hear... I think she's right, as always. What do you say you stop selling books and learn how to fix a car with me ? If you work hard, I'll keep you and you won't have to join the army" he states and Dean's face lit up.

 ***

             I sit on my bed and sigh. He is already under the blanket, on the mattress next to my bed, he turns his back on me.

"Dean..." I try. "I'm sorry..."

He doesn't answer but I keep going anyway.

"I realize I judged you. I think I was jealous because everything seemed so easy for you, and I'm so stressed out all the time... I was wrong. Sam is lucky to have you..."

I wait but he doesn't say a word so after a few minutes, I turn the light off.

"I was jealous too..." he finally whispers. "You... you have what I always dreamed of. Your mom is incredible, and your dad just trusted me after an hour..."

"Yes, they are good people, just like you."

I hear him lay on his back, and turn to look at him as my eyes get used to dark. My gaze lays on his profile, lingering on his lips. I never truly watched him. He is beautiful, not just attractive but charming, and now that I saw his soul...

"Dean ?"

"Mh ?"

"Why did you reprimand Sam back then in the cafeteria ?" I ask, trying not to let him hear the lump in my throat.

"Because he had taken only half of the sandwich I had made him to let me the other half. I was afraid he wouldn't eat enough..."

Tears roll down my cheek and before I can stop it, a sob escape my lips.

"I'm so sorry Dean..."

"Mh... I don't like that" he mutters, getting up.

"Wh-what ?"

"You feel sorry for me... I don't like that" he whispers, getting close.

Then he sits on my bed and strokes my hair. I can't move, I look up at him, his beautiful face lit only by the moon.

           He bends slowly and my breath is stuck in my chest.

           I close my eyes when his incredibly soft lips brush mine, then he really puts a kiss on my mouth, just one, before he gets up again.

"Thank you for saving my brother..." he says before he goes back to bed.

 ***

 FIVE MONTHS LATER

             When Sam sees me, he walks a little faster. I take his bag from his hand.

"You're not supposed to make physical efforts" I grunt.

"Carrying my bag is not..."

"Hey I will tell Dean" I cut him and he rolls his eyes.

           Laura joins us and messes with Sam's hair, making him grunt.

"Is Dean here ?" she says with a wide smile to make me roll my eyes.

Since I came back holding Dean's hand after only a weekend, and made her squeal, she says she will never stop teasing me about our relationship. And she indeed, never did.

             I get out of the car while Sam waits for me on the backseat, reading. I walk fast toward my dad, who is working on a car, his old cap on his head.

"Hey dad, are you finished ?"

"Hey sweetie. No, I'm not, but he can go home with you..."

           Hands wrap me and I feel a kiss on the back of my head. I turn and kiss my boyfriend's lips tenderly. I push a strand of his sweaty hair out of his face and he smiles at me, lightening the already bright day.

"Are you sure you don't need me anymore Bobby ?" Dean asks.

"No, no... You go back home and start to study, remember I'm not hiring you full time if you don't succeed final exams" my father grunts. "And hands off of my daughter !"

"Yeah... Sorry" Dean says letting me go. "Do you need me to buy something for diner ?"

"Keep your money for paying Stanford and go home !" my dad groans, throwing a wrench at him.

           As we walk toward the car, Dean bends on me, wrapping his strong arm around my waist.

"Hands of my daughter, yeah... We'll see that..." he rasps.

"Yeah well only if you let me help you with French, Mister I'm-not-that-smart-but-get-better-grades-than-the-girl-who-helps-me-when-I-want..." I kiss his cheek.

"D'accord Baby."

*D'accord = Okay

______________________________________________________

                   ***FEEDBACK IS EVERYTHING <3***

Forever Tags : @parinarain @animegirlgeeky @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma@roonyxx@animegirlgeeky @paradoxical–intentions  @thefaithfulwriter@parinarain@vicariouslythruspn@emeow1496@daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld @cocklesbelli @sandlee44@mogaruke @masterof-agony @mogaruke

Tags are open

[notarelationship]

In A Minute

Klaine Fic - In A Minute

Summary: AU. Kurt’s a bit clumsy, and Blaine needs a boyfriend in a hurry. What more do you want?  Words: ~2500 Chapters: 1/? Warnings: none

AO3: Ch 1

I’m shooting for weekly updates. Faster if I can get ahead. Will get it up on AO3 soon-ish. Thanks as always to @honeysucklepink for the speedy beta!

--

“Okay, so you stick the order tickets to this revolving caddy, and the grill cook will pick them up and set everything here on the pickup counter.”

Kurt nodded. It was his first day at the diner and the assistant day manager – a gorgeous brunette named Santana, who swore under her breath in Spanish every time she walked through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen area, was showing him around the various stations that he had to master. Kurt had worked at the local coffee shop back in Ohio, but the diner was definitely bigger, and there were more things to forget.

“Busboys will handle clearing the tables and lay out the cutlery and fresh napkins. All customers get water when they sit down along with their menus – Denny doesn’t like to wait for people to ask, he thinks it sets this greasy spoon apart from every other roach buffet in the city.” Santana shrugged with one shoulder, clearly expressing her doubt that anything about the diner was special. “Whatever, he’s not a terrible boss and he’s pretty flexible with the schedule since everyone here is a performer. If you need time just get someone to cover your shift and write it on the swap board. Everyone wants time off and everyone needs money. It usually works out.” Kurt thought she was done talking, but she went on. “And once you're up to speed be prepared to take on a few shifts for me. I've got three commercial auditions next week.”

Kurt nodded again. There was no way he’d remember everything she had just told him.

“Anything else I need to know?” Kurt asked.

“Nah,” she said, popping her gum.  “You shadow me today and if it’s not too busy you can take some orders later.”

Kurt followed Santana for a couple of tables, and it didn’t seem too difficult. It might take him a couple of days to learn all of the nicknames they had for various menu items, but he was used to memorizing dialogue, so he was pretty sure he would get it.  He learned the various stations quickly, and how to cut the right size of cake or pie without giving away too much, but enough to satisfy the customers. Santana taught him how to keep the coffee pots fresh and full, because they served a lot of NYU students and they could get really unruly if they had to wait for their caffeine fix. After a couple hours he even managed to stay out of the way of the busboys as they moved around clearing tables, making himself virtually invisible.

By the time the evening rush rolled in, Kurt knew the particular way the line cook liked to be asked to speed up an order (that did not result in delivering the completely wrong item to the customer), and he could restock the napkins and refill the ketchup and the salt shakers without incident.

After three days he was sure he was going to be fired.

Kurt Hummel was a klutz. He dropped silverware, tripped on the smooth tiled floors of the diner, and once, during the breakfast rush on his third day at the job, tipped a customer’s Lumberjack Combo Breakfast Platter just a little too much to the left, depositing it in the lap of said lumberjack’s dining partner.

“You psych yourself out.” Santana expertly slid three breakfast plates along one arm, and pick up a fourth with her free hand, as she gave her version of a pep talk.  “I’ve been watching you Kurt. You know what to do, you just try to do it all at once instead of taking it one plate at a time.”

Kurt shook his head. “I don’t know San, maybe I just have butterfingers.”

Santana nodded at two plates still sitting on the line. “Grab those two plates and follow me,” she said with a flip of her ponytail, heading over to a booth with an intimidating number of attractive guys who all looked about Kurt’s age.

“What’s it gonna take to get you to go out with me?” One of the boys teased. Santana set plates of food in front of four of them, then carefully took both plates that Kurt was holding and set them neatly in front of the rest.

“You’ve still got too much penis for me, champ.” Santana’s colorful language rarely shocked Kurt, but he wasn’t used to hearing her use it with paying customers.  “Don’t worry, they’re regulars,” Santana said, somehow winking at the entire table as six jocks burst into giggles. “And fellas, I’m training a newbie, so I expect you all to behave. This is Kurt.” She gave a squeeze to one of Kurt’s shoulder. “Let him know if you need anything else, allright?”

They were wearing matching yellow shirts and shorts, so Kurt assumed they were on some sort of a sports team. In high school this would have set off warning bells for Kurt, but these guys didn’t seem that dangerous, and they had giggled when Santana said penis, not two minutes earlier.

“Big game?” he asked, trying to steal some of the ease Santana had with the group.

The boys mumbled among themselves and Kurt could just make out the words ‘not really’ and ‘just a practice.’

“Okay, well, just flag me down if you need anything else,” he said, taking his awkward with him back to the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later he was making the rounds, refilling water glasses, when Santana’s table flagged him down.

“Refills?” he asked, when he reached the table. The boys all nodded, pushing their glasses to the center of the table so Kurt could reach them easier. Kurt took a breath to steady himself, then reached over with the pitcher, pouring water into all five glasses with only a little splashing onto the table, but nothing too egregious. As he was pouring, Kurt noticed that a few of the boys had cleaned their plates, so he offered to take them.

Everything after that was a blur. He needed to set the pitcher down in order to stack the platters, but didn’t realize until too late that when he set the pitcher down, he set it directly onto a fork; the pitcher wobbled and dumped its ice cold contents all over the lap of the boy sitting nearest to Kurt, who let out a strangled screech.

“Oh shit! I mean shoot! Shit - let me - oh my god.” Kurt scrambled to grab some napkins off of the empty booth next door, and Santana,  no doubt attracted by the familiar noises that followed butterfingers, arrived in seconds with a dry rag and a handful of fresh paper towels.

“Jesus Kurt, again?” Santana went to mop up the lap of the wettest boy, then smirked and seemed to think better of it. “Here short stack, you can dab your own crotch.” The boy squirmed a little, but took the napkins and attempted to dry himself off.

“It’s fine - it’s, the pitcher was almost empty,” the boy tried not to make a big deal out of it. He didn’t seem to be mad - at least, he wasn’t yelling at Kurt, which made him possibly the best customer Kurt had had since he’d started, but the boy was clearly uncomfortable, and Kurt could see the huge wet puddle dripping from where the excess water had pooled on the seat between his legs before puddling onto the floor. Kurt shuddered in sympathy. “Really don’t worry about it, it’s just water,” the boy said again. “And I need to go hit the showers anyway.” He tried to give Kurt a sympathetic smile, but Kurt thought he just looked uncomfortable.

“Please, let me comp your meal - all of your meals.” He looked around the table at the boys, but they all protested.

“You really don’t have to, Blaine needed to cool off,” one said

“Yeah, he scored three goals on me this afternoon, if you hadn’t dumped water all over him I probably would have.” They all laughed at that.

“How about dessert?” Kurt offered. “Coffee and pie on me?”

“How about next time? For the pie?” It was the boy Kurt had spilled on, Blaine, and with everything calming down, Kurt took a minute to look at him. His face was turned up toward kurt, and for a brief second Kurt lost his breath. Sure, he was wet, and a little dirty from whatever sport they’d been playing, but his eyes were beautiful, and he was smiling at Kurt in the most sincere way. “We come here all the time, there’ll be other chances for you to make it up to us.” He finished with a quiet smile, and Kurt had to force himself to look away.

“Okay,” Kurt collected himself. “If you promise you’ll come back.” They all promised, and Kurt left them to get their check.

“Santana!” Kurt wailed when he was back in the kitchen.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. They really are here all the time and I’m sure they don’t want to be annoying. Besides,” she added, “I think the little one you poured the water on has a crush on you.”

Kurt scoffed.

“Don’t laugh, maybe he gets off on having things spilled on him.” Kurt rolled his eyes, and brought them their check before disappearing quickly back into the kitchen.

After they had left and he was clearing their table, he discovered a tip far greater than the 10-15% customers usually left, along with a note written on a dry napkin.

Realy don’t worry about it, accidents happen. I promise to take you up on that pie - Blaine.

Kurt folded up the note, and stuck it in his apron pocket, and grinned all the way back to the kitchen.

“Hey Hummel, your shift is over in ten, why don’t you cut out early.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Brittany’s already here, and it’s Tuesday. It’ll be a quiet night.” Santana was talking to him, but she only had eyes for his replacement. Kurt wasn’t sure they had something going on, but he was sure Santana was open to the idea.

“Okay,” he said brightly. “If you insist.” He washed up as best he could, grabbed his bag from the staff coat closet, and with a wave and a promise to be back the next day for the breakfast shift, he headed home.

Kurt stepped out of the restaurant, breathing in the sights, sounds and smells of the New York spring. New York didn’t always smell great, anyone would agree, but there were occasionally times when it smelled so New York that it was pleasant by association. Tonight was one of those nights.

After a few moments Kurt sighed, and began making a mental list of all of the things be needed to be working on, starting with his scene for his French new wave plays class. It would be better if they’d let him do it in French.

After turning right at the corner, Kurt dodged the light crowd that was starting to gather, as the city shifted from people rushing home from work to people heading out to meet friends and socialize at a much more leisurely pace.

He hadn’t gone more than ten paces before he noticed a familiar figure standing in a doorway. Away from the pedestrian traffic. In the twilight it took him a few long blinks to realize that it was Blaine.

Kurt started to say hi, then realized Blaine was on his phone, as he held up one finger with a somewhat pleading look. Kurt thought meant that Blaine wanted him to wait, so he stopped, and couldn’t help but overhear the end of Blaine’s conversation.

“Yep, yes. Of course I have time, yes, yes I’ll bring him, if he doesn’t have to work-“ Blaine looked at Kurt and grimaced. “Friday night, yes Mother. Love you too. And Dad of course.” Blaine was silent, obviously listening, but nodding along and looking as though he were experiencing slightly more than mild gas pains. After a few more moments he hung up. “Kurt!”

“Um, you weren’t out here waiting for me, I hope.” Kurt chuckled nervously. “No why would you be.” Blaine had said he was fine, but maybe he wanted to exact some revenge for the ice lap? Weirder things had happened on the streets of New York, Kurt knew.

“No! No, um,” Blaine fidgeted a little, then pointed at his phone. “My mom called.”

Kurt had no idea where this conversation was going, but Blaine was certainly cute when he was nervous, or at least when he seemed nervous.

“That’s nice?” Kurt asked, but Blaine looked mildly pained, so Kurt went on. “And I am so sorry, about the water -” Kurt waved his hand in a circle in the direction of Blaine’s crotch, but then thought better of it, stopping with a nervous laugh. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you.”

Blaine’s eyebrows did an adorable furrowing, and he finally said something. “Actually, um, there might be?”

Kurt perked up. He would really like to unload some of this guilt over the spill. 

“Anything. Well, most things, probably. I don’t think I could do a hit on anyone.” Blaine looked confused. “Kill someone?”

“Oh, oh nothing like that.” Blaine paused. “I need a date.”

“Oh.” That was not what Kurt expected. “Oh?”

“Actually, I need a boyfriend. On very short notice.”

“A boyfriend?”

Blaine nodded, then looked horrified. “Oh my god, I mean, I don’t want to assume, that’s terrible - bad Blaine - I guess I was maybe hoping, when I saw you come around the corner. You don’t even have to be gay! All I need is someone to go out to dinner with me and my parents and pretend to be my boyfriend. No extras required.”

Even his scattered thought process was a little adorable.

“Wait. You need a pretend boyfriend to have dinner with your parents? Don’t gay guys usually need fake girlfriends?”

Blaine laughed. “Probably, but my parents know I’m gay, they’re fine about it, mostly -“ his face darkened for the briefest of moments, “but they keep trying to fix me up with this guy whose parents go to their country club, and I just wanted them to stop so I told them I was in a relationship. And now they’re going to be here this weekend and they want to meet you.” Blaine shook his head and sputtered, his eyes wide in surprise. “Him! My boyfriend.” Blaine sighed and dropped his arms to his sides. “That I don’t have.”

Kurt took a second to really look at Blaine. He was definitely cute, and definitely gay, and while he looked a little rumpled and sweaty now, Kurt could imagine him cleaning up quite nicely. And also it was just for an evening. Kurt would definitely be helping him out, so he could stop feeling guilty about dumping the water on him.

“Nice restaurant?”

Blaine laughed. “Oh, definitely. My parents are the epitome of snooty rich people. It’ll be whatever the hottest place to be this week is.”

“Snooty rich parents and a free meal? I’m in.” Kurt grinned.

“That’s great Kurt, thank you.” Blaine took out his phone and handed it to Kurt. “Put in your number and I’ll send you all the details. I really appreciate this. You have no idea.”

“Let’s talk tomorrow. You can fill me in on anything I need to know about you then.”

[reddielibrary]

say it softly

Secret Santa: Ray | @ethereal-eddie

Gift for: Mila | @milaleidi

Word count: 2,134

*click title to read on AO3

Ever since I started working at Patsy’s, I’ve been sort of a wallflower.

College was beginning to kick my ass when it came to finances, to the point that I barely had enough money to pay for a night out with the friends that I had made on my floor, so I decided that the best course of action was to get a job at the twenty-four-hour diner that was right across the street from my dorm building. It was the cutest little place; squat on the outside, yet warm and cozy with the feeling of a fifty’s sock hop on the inside. The hours weren’t the best, but the pay was good, and I figured that a few late shifts at three in the morning was better than having no money at all.

That being said, however, I was always privy to the strangest of people coming in at god-awful hours of the night, mostly college students that ordered three plates of blueberry pancakes due to their being high off their asses. Once, there was a guy that looked like he had jumped straight out of a Macy’s catalog who asked for a bag of ice because his recent tattoo (which was in an unmentionable place) was hurting him. Conversations with the old locals was one of my favorite parts of the job, getting to hear about their stories of them in high school and how Patsy’s used to be an old hookah shop until the owner died of lung cancer.

Despite all of the interesting characters I met, the most intriguing was a group that came in at one in the morning on a Tuesday in October.

I remember that night, how they had burst into the shop, just when I was thinking that no one else would be coming in. Amanda, my coworker, had asked if I could cover her shift, and I, ever the people pleaser, had agreed with a tight smile that was soon swallowed by a yawn. A lanky, auburn-haired man held the door open as the rest of who I assumed were his friends stumbled through the entrance. The first to enter was a beautiful redhead that was hanging off the shoulder of an uptight looking man with curls sitting messily atop his head. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the tables with a scrutinizing gaze, and she whispered something into the ear of her friend (partner?) before deciding on a booth directly in front of the large, glass-stained window. The curly haired boy, who looked out of place next to the girl because of his prep-boy stature, only smiled and followed her without saying another word. The next person I noticed was a burly, dark-skinned man, who smiled brightly at the lights of the diner and, presumably, the boy that had just entered before him. Right after came a stocky young man with red cheeks, who ran ahead to the booth to take a seat next to the girl, followed by the one who had been holding the door open for the rest of the group.

The five friends talked to each other in relatively loud voices, so I could hear them from my position at the cash register while I was getting ready to take their orders. “Where the fuck are they? I swear they were right behind us when we left,” huffed the one with curly hair.

The redhead laughed and threw an arm around her friend. “Who wants to bet that they got caught up making out on Dean Russo’s car?”

Just as a chorus of ‘me!’s rang through the air, the bell above the front entrance chimed, announcing the arrival of two new patrons, their looking windswept and their cheeks red. The girl hollered, and one by one the rest of the group made kissing noises at the couple, one of whom buried his face in the other’s shoulder.

“Dean Russo kick you off of his car?” asked the blonde kid, and the two both nodded reluctantly before taking a seat right next to each other. I thought that now was as good a time as any to go and take their orders, so, grabbing my pad and pen, I made my way to their booth. I was greeted with smiles, and so I smiled back before clearing my throat to speak. “May I take your orders?” I groaned internally, knowing that I probably sounded extremely awkward; I was still getting used to talking to college students that I had never met before. Despite my internal conflict, they all nodded eagerly, shyly (and, for some, exuberantly) saying varied degrees of yes.

It wasn’t long until I served them, and they asked me to sit with them and talk. At the time, it seemed like a weird request, but they were so kind so I couldn’t find it in myself to decline. After I tugged off my apron and pulled a chair up to the edge of the booth, the only girl in the group began to introduce each of them one by one.

“I’m Beverly, Bev, your next girlfriend! Whatever you wanna call me!” I laughed at her introduction, and she nodded in satisfaction. “This,” she continued, pointing at the curly haired man be that sat on her right, “is Stanley the Manly, affectionately makes by our one and only Richie Tozier.” She then pointed at one of the men that had walked in late, specifically the taller one with a mess of hair on his head. “Eddie is Richie’s boyfriend, and together they make the most disgustingly cute couple you will ever see.” Eddie, who had freckles decorating his face, waved at me with a shy smile. “Mike—“ she pointed at the dark-skinned man “— is Stan’s boyfriend, Bill is his best friend, and Ben is our group’s honorary mother.”

Richie cut in quickly, leaning over the table so he could see me from around Eddie. “We are the Losers’ Club!”

I raised my eyebrows in question, and Ben smiled. “We named it ourselves. We’ve been the Losers’ Club since we were thirteen.”

“You guys have all been friends since you were kids?”

Mike nodded proudly. “Yep! We all decided to go to university together. Don’t know how I’d survive without these guys.”

I got to know them pretty well, from how Richie was majoring in film (just like me) to the fact that Mike was a star football player for the Huskies, our football team. They were extremely comfortable with each other, always making mildly deprecating comments about each other, and I longed to have friends like them.

I hoped that, maybe, I could become good friends with these people who I found extremely interesting.

-

The Losers’ Club made it a habit to enter Patsy’s every Tuesday, ordering the same dishes every single time. For Mike, it was a shitty rendition of huevos rancheros; Stan always glanced at the menu scrutinizingly before deciding on an everything bagel topped with lox; Beverly favored the Homestyle french toast; Ben and Bill always shared a stack of cinnamon pancakes drowned in maple syrup. The only ones who didn’t keep their routine orders were Richie and Eddie, always sharing a plate of something that Richie had picked in an over-excited haze. I remember asking Eddie about it on one of their trips, and he said that he only ever shared with his boyfriend because he knew it would make Richie happy (“...but don’t ever tell him I said that.”)

I had gotten so used to seeing them on Tuesdays that I was mildly startled when Richie and Eddie came in on a Friday night in December, hands entangled in the pocket of Richie’s large winter coat and scarves covering their mouths. Richie was talking animatedly, waving his free arm around as he tried to explain something that I couldn’t quite hear to Eddie. The night was fairly busy and I was already waiting four other tables, so I made Amanda take their orders, and it wasn’t long until their food came out; this time, a large “California Style” burger and fries.

They remained in the same spot for nearly three hours, Eddie securely tucked against Richie’s side, laughing at a story’s that they were sharing with each other. Most people had cleared out, leaving in their wake a mess of unfinished plates and dirty napkins, yet the couple stayed, looking picture picture in the pastel lighting. I couldn’t begin to fathom how in love they were. I began to clean up, listening in on their conversation at times, and I was nearly done when Richie called my name, prompting me to turn and raise an eyebrow at my friends.

“Okay, okay,” he started, removing his arm from around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Would you agree that—“

“Richie, don’t you fucking dare—“

Richie quickly put his palm against Eddie’s mouth, and grinned when it made Eddie stop talking. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, wouldn’t you agree that Optimus is the perfect fucking name for mine and Eddie’s kids?”

“No, it’s not, Richie!”

“No, it’s not, Richie!” The raven-haired boy mimicked back, and I laughed. He turned to me, continuing on with his speech. “Imagine this: your kid goes to school, meets a new friend, and tells him that his name is Op. And then! When they ask what it’s short for, he says: Optimus.”

“You are literally the dumbest fucking person I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting,” said Eddie, and despite his words, his tone was light, and he was looking at Richie with all the love in the world.

“Oh, cry me a river, Edward!”

I cut in before the shorter man could berate his boyfriend’s use of a full name. “I kinda have to agree with Eddie on this one. It’s a dumb name, Rich.”

Richie gasped and feigned a look of shock, clutching his heart in a desperate fashion. “Why, Miss!” he drawled in a somewhat passable southern accent. “I never did think you’d be the one to break my little heart!”

I shrugged. Eddie winked at me.

I spent the rest of my shift talking with them.

-

The second of January was when I found out about it.

I had gotten pretty close with the group over the past year, occasionally going to parties with them and playing board games when it rained (which is often here in Seattle.) I had taken a liking to Beverly the most, with her exuberant personality and incredible fashion sense, but Richie and Eddie came as a close second. They were a package deal, always a source of envy among the single members of our group, myself included. We were all privy to their constant kisses, banter, and, to the chagrin of most of us, the sexual innuendos that Richie directed at his smaller boyfriend.

The snow outside had piled up so high that it was almost impossible to get through the front entrance of the diner, yet business was booming as per usual. I had the opportunity to work at the bar, which required less effort and guaranteed more time to relax. Thirty minutes into my shift, the bell rang, signaling the arrival of new customers. When I looked up, I was excited (and surprised) to see Eddie and Beverly walking towards me, the red-haired girl’s arm slung across her best friend’s shoulders. The two of them only ever came in alone if there was important news, mostly to let me into the little bubble that was the Losers’ Club’s world, so I waited eagerly for them to greet me.

“Hey Em!” Beverly said, her white teeth on full display as her lips pulled back into an excited grin.

“Hey guys,” I said back. “So… what’s the big news?” At this, Eddie’s skin turned a scarlet red, and he stuck out his left hand, where a glittering silver band sat on his ring finger.

“No fucking way, he proposed?” I grabbed Eddie’s hand fast, examining the ring, and he nodded. “You guys are so young!”

Eddie shrugged, the smile on his face never faltering. “I can’t even think of spending the rest of my life with anyone else. He’s always been the one for me, since we were kids.”

“Holy shit, that’s fucking cute!”

Beverly pulled me outside later that night, interlocking our fingers after she had lit a cigarette. “My best friends are fucking engaged and I can’t even get a girlfriend.”

I smiled at her, before looking at the sky, where white flurries fell in hurried dazes. “You’re a catch, Bev.”

She laughed, squeezing my hand, and paused before she spoke again. “These idiots have been in love since before I even knew them. Took them eleven years to realize it.”

“They really are the dream, huh?”

She smiled.

[danganxastrologyimagines]

“ DR2 kids react to going out on a mission with their s/o that involves hilarious over the top disguises”

Hajime Hinata:

You noticed how sad he looked. You knew he wasn’t his usual self, but he insisted that he was doing just fine.

Being the lover you are, you didn’t believe him for a second, and you made up a mission where you would work with Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi to do a chase scene.

Basically, you would be the person that’s trying to chase down Kazuichi, who had a swimming cap on hiding his hair. Fuyuhiko would join in, managing to persuade Hajime to come out with you. He would say that he was on the other side to Kazuichi, cornering him effectively.

Hajime does come out with you to chase down Kazuichi, and Hajime hears you say all of these over-the-top statements.

“Stop right there, criminal scum!”

Where has he heard that?

He looks over, and he only just then realises that you’ve disguised yourself as a guard, and he’s slightly annoyed by this discovery.

He turns the corner to see Kazuichi, and he tackles down the boy before he could continue with the plan.

He realises that Fuyuhiko was there as well, and Fuyuhiko couldn’t hold back his laughter at how determined Hajime looked.

Hajime had a talk to you about what was putting him on edge.

Chiaki Nanami:

Chiaki wanted to go out on a date, but you knew that she didn’t pick the place herself.

You tried to get her to pick the place, but she insisted that anything is fine as long as it was with you.

So, you decided maybe it might be a cute idea to do lazer tag.

You played a sergeant. It would be a change of pace which could be interesting.

You noticed that she looked really happy when you took her in, insisting that the games were on you.

When she nodded off  at times, you woke her up by exaggerating all of your movements while going “Soldier down! Soldier down! Send in back-up!”

It was a really fun date!

Nagito Komaeda:

He’s originally agreed because he knew that he may be needed for some major bait, or at least some good luck to strike during the mission.

Then he notices the apprearance his s/o is going for, and he can’t help but smirk playfully as he crosses his arms.

I mean, you said you were going to go disguised as a detective to blend in but you came out in the most detective-esque outfit, equipped with a magnifying glass and an equally as obvious fake mustashe. 

He thought that maaybe you were just doing this to look weird but gain friends during the mission, but then you started coming out with all these comical lines that made you look more suspicious as a detective.

Making innuendos, over-emphasising every time you thought about something.

Sonia Nevermind:

You were going to a meeting with her as her partner, and you didn’t know how the other people would like you. You heard of how poncy they were, and you didn’t want to do anything outlandish for them.

So, you dress up in a proper suit, bowtie and everything, and you even added a monacle because you thought that would help.

During the meeting, you would act almost like a butler to Sonia. You grabbed a hand towel and draped this over your lower arm, walking like you had a stick up your arse.

Sonia couldn’t help but love this, but she knew how worried you were.

You even spoke differently. It was a good accent, don’t get Sonia wrong. It’s just that she knew that you weren’t doing this because you wanted to do it.

Kazuichi Souda:

You wanted to cheer Kazuichi up after an interaction with Miu that led him to believe that you were more interested in her than you were than him. Miu knew you weren’t interested in her, and she remained friendly even after you explained to her that your heart was with Kazuichi.

You went to talk to him, but he would run away before you could grab his hand to hold him back.

So, you had to go undercover. 

You disguise yourself as a judge for his mechanical talent, and he doesn’t recognise you.

Once you entered the room, Kazuichi felt nervous, and it wasn’t because you were with the judges. It was because of how stereotypical you looked for a judge. 

You stood out like a sore thumb, but thanks to Miu’s help you didn’t look like you.

You also introduced yourself with a name that was, to an extent, similar to yours. He noticed the initals of your name matching up, and he had a few worries.

You approached him, looking extremely serious. 

“We need to talk.” You put out to him. The other people there already put him in as worthy of his talent that year - you just had to ask them to go in with you to look like they had more to say.

You leave the room with Kazuichi, and you sit him down in the seat that’s furthest from the door.

“So,” Kazuichi said. “what can I do to prove myself to you?”

You didn’t say anything.

You pressed a button, deflating your disguise.

“I should be asking that question, sir.” You put out, still in character.

Kazuichi grunted, getting up to leave.

“Dude, let the bitch talk!” Miu (who was hiding in the room), placed a hand on his shoulder.

You have a talk as a group, and you leave the room reunited as a trio.

Akane Owari: (shoutout to Mod Kirumi for giving inspiration for this one!)

Akane was looking forward to going out on a date with you to a restaurant, but when she was told that your boss had called you wanting you to do extra hours for your day shift, she became sort of sad that you couldn’t spend the day with her.

You arrived at work, and you started to work.You feel someone applying pressure onto your shoulders, and you turned around to see your boss there.

It turns out that someone else was supposed to do more hours. Your boss only realised this once she checked your hours, only to find out you did a lot of hours - more so than what your contract stated for a week.

She lets you go, giving you pay for the hours you worked that day, and you wanted to surprise Akane by inviting her out to eat disguised as one of her good friends - Nekomaru.

You knew that they were both together for the day, and you decided to send him a text, asking if you could switch with him (while being disguised as him) to surprise Akane after explaining your situation.

He agrees to do so, and he leaves once he gets the notification that you were outside of the restaurant they were in. A couple of minutes later, you took his place.

You couldn’t quite nail his voice, though.

Akane’s face wrinkles up, sniffing something.

“Did you take s/o’s deodorant? You smell like them, coach!” Akane queried, placing her chin on her hand.

You pulled off the wig you had on, and she couldn’t help but start crying.

“You made it!” She embraced you in a hug, tears still coming out.

You laughed, pulling her in closer. You paid for the meal, and you made sure that she had a good day with you.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu:

Normally, he would shoot down this shit as soon as you started.

But today he noticed that you looked particularly focused, and he wanted to find out what was going on.

You never tell him, just pressing a finger to your lips before running away giggling.

He tilts his head in confusion, before turning to get to a meeting with other Yakuza leaders.

--

He arrives, and he spotted you.

Oh my god.

You seem to have taken advice from Kokichi as what you should wear, and you chose to embody him as well.

You wouldn’t stop cracking jokes during serious situations, and Fuyuhiko was growing increasingly worried for you. The looks the other clan leaders gave looked neutral, but they were trying to hide something.

He’s internally sceaming, but he really freaks out when one of the leaders wraps their arm around yours.

“Oh my god, you’re hilarious!”

Everyone bursted out laughing. 

Fuyuhiko was so confused by this development. How did you not get hurt when you were pulling this during an interview?

Fuyuhiko then thinks about the looks the clan leaders had, and he realised they knew who you were, and you must have somehow negotiated with them to piss him off.

He has a very stern chat with you.

Mikan Tsumiki:

You were beginning to get annoyed by how Mikan would take anything bad from patients, fellow nurses, doctors, receptionists - you name it!

She insisted on you not worrying about it, how it’s okay for them to treat her in the way she is treated.

So, you take an indirect approach to sort out the situation.

You pretended to be a health inspector. More specifically, they would be a hand-hygienist.

You entered the ward she worked in, going after everyone in the ward that wouldn’t wash their hands when they needed to. 

You would approach the person by obnoxiously gasping, causing everyone else in the room to turn around to see what happened. You would drag the person over to the nearest hand sanitiser dispenser, tutting at them as you did so.

You knew your Mikan never failed to wash her hands efficiently, so you didn’t need to worry about that.

Teruteru Hanumura:

You decided to convince him to let you become a server for his diner. 

He agreed. It doesn’t take him much convincing, and he’s not as sexual as you thought he would be about the whole thing. Sure, there was one implied comment but it was extremely tame for him.

You decided to be as tv stereotypical of a server as possible, and you have never had so much fun with it.

Every other server decided to do the antics you did, and you made so many friends and positive memories.

He enjoyed seeing how happy everyone was around you, and he even played along when serving up the plates for you to take off.

Peko Pekoyama: (in this one, the s/o is the ultimate escape artist!)

It was the day that she had to show her proof of improvement as the ultimate swordswoman, but the people looking at her portfolio didn’t see an improvement so they had to think quickly.

They knew about your relationship, and they decide to reach out to you. They knew you could escape any situation possible, and you sometimes watched Peko when she was doing her exercises to maintain her talent.

After a meeting, you had a scenario to live up to. You were supposed to be a new student, going by the ultimate of mafioso. You had a proper disguise and all!

You were in her room, waiting for her to return. She was never tested on something that was in the comfort of her own room.

When she spotted you, she dashed towards you, unsheathing her sword.

Your reflexes kicked in, and you attempt to escape. She knew about the tricks you tried to pull, and you knew about the tricks she tried to pull.

It lasted a really long time, and Peko was beginning to tire herself out. You had some marks on your forearms, but they weren’t deep enough to cause permanent scarring. 

Peko had to think of new ideas, and she improvised.

She swiped up the way, getting your face.

Your hat falls off, and her expression changed from one of determination to one of surprise.

“s-s/o!” She cried out, reaching for your face. “Why did you do this?”

You placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it before leaving. You had a bad feeling that this would affect Peko’s trust with you, but you were also glad that she was able to stay in hopes peak when you reported back to the institution.

Nekomaru Nidai:

Some of the people Nekomaru was coaching became significantly more lazy and stubborn after some of his overly optimistic comments, and you would see the glint of anger or sadness in his eyes. 

You couldn’t tell the difference.

You did an under-cover mission as a new student to Nekomaru, and he introduced you with all of the positivity he had in his mind.

You strolled over to your peers in the most obnixious manner, patting them on the back.

“Good thing I’m not with boring, lazy people!” You bellowed out.

Some of the people got really offended by that you said this, and they decided to try to gang up on you.

Oh hell no!

You flipped all of them over, much to Nekomaru’s (lowkey) approval.

He couldn’t help but smile at how effortless your flipping looked, and it also got the students to put in more energy again.

Ibuki Mioda:

You noticed how sad Ibuki appeared when she came back to your home one day. She insisted that she was doing fine, but there was something about her character that definitely didn’t seem like her.

You investigated yourself for a week, and you saw all of the messages people would directly give her. She didn’t care about the internet’s comment because of the fact that they were, really, faceless.

But in person, when reporters would make fun of Ibuki for not meeting society’s standards of singing, that’s what got to her. The reporters managed to jab at her insecurities, and it showed in her facial expression momentarily once she turned away from the cameras.

So, you decide to disguise yourself as a reporter yourself.

You would look like one of those bloggers on youtube, but your personality would almost match up to the reporters.

Almost.

You didn’t jab at her insecurities, you embraced her different personality and how she would manage to keep a strong personality through all of the comments.

When the sea of reporters came out, she didn’t originally recognise you.

Her eyes looked worried when you reached out for her, walking towards her.

“Miss Mioda! Miss Mioda!” You started screeching, taking a video of yourself with her as you started. “How does it feel to be the best of the best?”

Ibuki noticed your voice, and she brightens up.

“Ibuki thinks that this feels great!” She didn’t know exactly what to say, but she wanted to talk to her fans about being different through your video. “Being different is cool!” She giggled out, pinching your cheeks.

Byakuya Twogami:

You made it a competition. He accepted the challenge.

So now, you’re pretending to be him as he’s pretending to be you.

He’s struggling to get some parts of your character because of his love towards you. You managed to get him flutered when he tried to imitate you.

You made it worse by managing to get his interpretation of Byakuya perfectly. You acted like you had a job to do, you acted really serious etc.

He’s refusing to accept that you bet him, but you keep doing it every single time.

Mahiru Kozumi:

There were times that Mahiru would scrap pictures because they didn’t have the zing she thought they did.

You decided to dress up as an artist, one that looked like they were extremely serious.

You entered her room when she was there with the pictures she threw in the bin out of disappointment.

“Doll, where did you get these?” You started in your accent. “These are revolutionary!”

You then listed everything you loved about the pictures, more enthusiastic with every line you projected into the room.

“Honey, you’re evolutionary!” You finished, pulling Mahiru into a ressuring side-hug.

Gundham Tanaka:

Honestly, he’ll love it if he’s involved. 

He enjoys being able to play along with an over-the-top character as long as it fits his own ideals though, so you have to be slightly more strategic with him.

So, you land up doing a mission involving animals. You guys volunteered at the local vet to work for the day, and you decided to bring a personality Gundham didn’t quite expect.

You came as his admirer. What I mean by this is that you almost acted as his second-up, and you spoke like you were part of an organisation when you were chatting with other staff.

Gundham copes with this by playing up his character more, but internally he’s still so...surprised?

Like what was that? Why that character? 

aLSO WHY ARE YOU WEARING AN OUTFIT THAT MADE YOU LOOK LIKE YOU JUST LIKED FLUFFY THINGS?

Hiyoko Saonji:

You got real tired of how overly strict her parents became. 

It got to the point where they didn’t allow Hiyoko to go on dates anymore because she was supposedly not doing as well as she should be doing.

So, you decide to disguise yourself as a judge. 

You almost looked like an extremely strict business man, it honestly worried Hiyoko when she entered the stage front and saw you there.

She relaxes after she realises that it’s you, happy that you wouldn’t leave her because of her parents being dicks about the relationship.

As she’s dancing, you feel the eyes of her parents boring into the back of your head. You knew they didn’t know you were still dating Hiyoko, and you honestly thought that they were thinking it was you.

They didnt.

When you gave raving critiques, pointing out everything that was perfect, Hiyoko noticed how...dissappointed? surprised? What was that emotion? Regret?

You stand up to give her the award, and when you turned, the parents saw your face but thought nothing of it. 

You were glad that they were showing a new expression, one that didn’t literally say “we are so angry at you for not doing well.”

[ghostwinchesters]

Eggnog and Lies

part ii, part iii

tags: sastiel, college rooommate au, dean’s coming to stanford for the holidays, sam needs a bf asap, swearing, implied charjo, past megstiel, past samifer i def don’t ship it and it’s displayed vEry negatively, lucifer was manipulative, sam is self deprecating, cas is panromantic (!!)

characters: sam winchester, castiel, dean winchester [mentioned], jo harvelle, charlie bradbury [mentioned], lucifer [mentioned], balthazar, gabriel, meg masters [mentioned]

word count: 2k

AO3 Link

Part II

“Okay, so give me the whole story, Sam.” Jo put a glass in front of him. “And drink up.”

He gave her a confused look. “Eggnog? I think I could use something a little stronger than eggnog.”

She smirked. “Nah, don't worry about that. It's got plenty in it… Now tell me.” Jo leaned against the counter with her eyebrows raised. “Charlie said Dean’s coming tomorrow, and you're freaking out because…” She waved her hand in a please explain motion.

Sam groaned. “Do I really have to talk about it?”

“Hey, Charlie said you needed help finding a date or something, and I'm trying to help you out, but I need some context, Sammy.”

He avoided her gaze and looked around the coffee shop instead. It was some stupid holiday party at Jo’s cafe and Charlie had told him to go. The place was popular around campus and it was busy, especially because of the party and it being Friday night. Alex, Claire, and Jack were busy serving everyone while Jo talked to Sam, which made him feel bad but he knew she wouldn’t stop now.

“It's Sam. And not just a date. I literally need someone who's been dating me for a while. And that's obviously not gonna happen by tomorrow.” Sam let out a long sigh as Jo kept looking at him in confusion. “Yeah, Dean’s coming tomorrow for Christmas. I mean, I didn't even know he was coming until the other day! He originally said he wasn't gonna make it, but Bobby convinced him to take some time off from the shop and…” Sam's voice trailed off.

“Okay, but what's the problem? You and Dean get along pretty well, I thought. And why the fuck do you need a datefriend?”

Sam looked down at his eggnog. “Um, beginning of this year, after winter break, Dean was just kinda worried about me. I dunno. He does that a lot. Especially after last year, and losing Jess…” Sam stopped talking before shrugging. “I mean, I didn’t even have a roommate yet because it’s like people were freaked to stay with me after the fire last year… Until Cas anyway because he obviously doesn’t give a shit about possible curses. Anyway, I started dating Luce in like April and Dean felt better because I had someone, even though he never met him.”

“Yeah, well, Lucifer was a complete and total dick who didn’t deserve you. Glad you dumped him.” Jo winced when Sam looked down at his glass. “Sorry. That’s not his name, and maybe that was a little har-”

“No, no… You’re right. He was a fucking dick and I should’ve broken up with him a lot earlier. I just… when I finally told Dean a few weeks ago, I said I was dating someone else, but now I’m probably just gonna have to tell him that I kinda totally lied and he’ll probably be worried because I lost someone again, and I dunno.” He looked up with a tired grin. “Unless someone wants to fake date me?”

Jo snorted. “Hey, don't look at me, Sammy. I've got a girlfriend. But we’ll see what we can work out. You gonna be picky about who?”

“Uh…” Sam chuckled nervously. “I accidentally said he when I told Dean I was dating someone, and had to keep going with that lie.” Jo groaned and gave him a seriously look. “You have any willing gay guys arou-?” He jumped slightly when someone dropped down on the bar stool next to him.

“Well, I’m gay and possibly willing. It might work?”

“Cas… Do you have any idea what we’re talking about?” Jo asked at the same time that Sam mumbled, “You’re… gay?” He felt himself get excited and happy for a second, but shoved it down, ignoring it.

“Absolutely none.” Cas shook his head and shrugged. “And yes. Well, panromantic if you want to get specific… Anyway. Why the hell do you need a willing gay guy?”

“No reason. You’re already stuck being my roommate. You don’t need to hear about my problems.”

Jo’s eyes lit up and she grinned. “Actually, that could totally work.” She turned to Cas. “He needs someone to fake date him while Dean’s here.”

“Dean… Your brother Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“He doesn’t want Dean to worry about him after Luce and everything, so he needs to pretend he’s been dating someone for a while. A guy, specifically.” Jo gave Sam a fake smile and he glared at her. “Which means we have fewer options.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll do it.”

Sam froze, staring at Cas, who shrugged. “You’ll… you’ll what?”

“Like you said, I’m already living with you. It won’t be that hard.”

“Yeah, and this way you guys actually know each other, which’ll make it more convincing.”

“Y-yeah.” Sam attempted a smile, feeling nervous. This couldn’t be happening. He’d had a slight crush on Cas for a while, and now he was supposed to fake date him?

“Cas has experience with stuff like this too.”

Cas ignored her and looked at Sam with a small smile. “Only if you want to though, Sam. It’s your choice.”

“Okay, yeah. Why not?”

“Cool.” Cas grinned. “Winter break was going to be boring anyway, so this is good.”

Jo rolled her eyes and snorted. “You guys are both weird, okay? Really fucking weird… And I’ll get you two more eggnogs on the house while you figure this out because you’re also my fucking weird friends.”

Sam shook his head. “No, no. Jo. It’s fine.”

Jo pretended not to hear him and went to make two.

“Good luck changing her mind, Sam.”

“Yeah…” He looked up. “What’d she mean about you having experience with stuff like this?”

“Uh, we went to highschool together, and there was this girl Meg. She was dating my brother Michael but he was a douche and she caught him cheating with her sister, Lilith.”

“Who—shocker—was a total bitch.” Jo put two drinks in front of them. “You guys can go to the back room if you want. It’s quieter. Not as many drunk-on-freaking-eggnog students over there.”

Cas stood up and Sam followed him to one of the couches in the back of the coffee shop.

“Yeah, so she asked me to fake date her as petty revenge, and I agreed,” Cas said as he sat down, picking up where he’d left off. “She was my friend, and it’s not like my brother was exactly my favorite person or anything. And, oh man, Michael was pissed.” Cas laughed, looking up at the ceiling. “We were only gonna do it for a couple months, y’know? But… somehow we ended up dating for real? All through summer break and then senior year.”

His smile faded and he shrugged. “Then college happened. I got accepted here, to Stanford, and she got into Oxford. She, uh, well she said it was fine and she didn’t have to go. But come on. Who are we kidding? Full ride to Oxford? I told her to go. She was smart and deserved it.”

“I’m sorry…” Sam mumbled. “Seems like you really liked her.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I did, but it's been a while. And besides, I generally tend to get attached to people more than they get attached to me.” He smiled again, even though it was tight.

“Yeah…”

“Okay! So how did we start dating?”

“What?”

“What’s our—” air quote “—meet cute? For anyone who asks.”

“Um…” Sam’s mind went blank as Cas stared at him, waiting for suggestions.

“You’re helpful.”

Sam made an exasperated noise. “Okay, fine. You think of something in five seconds!”

“Okay, after breaking up with Lucif— Luce, you were kinda moping around forever, so I dragged you out of the house and to the movies and then to dinner. The waitress at the diner thought we were a couple, and we thought it was funny so we didn’t correct her, but then in the parking lot, I kissed you and admitted I liked you.”

“But that’s all true!” Sam whined, shaking his head. “You didn’t think any of that up!” His face flushed and he was thankful that the room was dim except for the Christmas lights strung around the room and single desk lamp on in the corner where someone was actually studying. “I mean, except for the kissing part… And the you liking me part obviously.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Cas laughed. “You can stop blushing, Sam.”

Not dim enough apparently. “I’m not blushing.”

Cas leaned forward and touched Sam’s face with his cold hands. “Pfft, yeah you are. Your face is really warm.”

“Shut up.”

Cas smirked but pulled his hand away.

“Does everyone call him Lucifer?” Sam forced the question out, his voice quiet, even though he’d been wondering for awhile and probably knew the answer.

Cas didn’t answer right away and Sam glanced down at his lap. “All your friends do.”

“Oh.”

“Sam.”

He met Cas’s blue eyes again.

“You were way too good for that ass. And you’ll always be too good for him.”

“That’s not tr-”

“Yes. It is true, Sam Winchester. I don’t care what he told you, but you are incredible and deserve so much more than him.”

Sam gave him a small smile, knowing that Cas believed what he was saying, but he was having a hard time believing it himself.

They both sat in silence for a little while until Cas came up with a new question.

“We’re gonna have to sleep in the same room, aren’t we?”

“I can sleep on the floor.” Sam shrugged. “Put some blankets or a sleeping bag there.”

“Yeah, no. Not happening, Sam. I mean, come on. As long as you don’t mind, I don’t care either. And your bed’s big enough.”

“Yeah, well, last time we ended up cuddling!” Sam’s voice squeaked nervously when he remembered the night after he broke up Luce.

This time Cas’s face turned red, but he shrugged. “You were drunk and miserable after that stupid party and your stupid breakup. And when I got you home you were already half asleep. You asked me to go to sleep with you with those puppy dog eyes. How was I supposed to say no?”

He broke his gaze away from Sam as two people came into the back room. “Oh. Hey, Balth. Hey, Gabriel.”

“Cas!” Gabriel grinned. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Oh, um. This... this is my boyfriend, Sam.” He scooted a little closer, and Sam held up his hand in an awkward wave.

“Winchester? Your friend who was dating Lucifer?”

“Not just my friends. Apparently your friends even know him as that,” Sam muttered.

“Okay, my fault,” Cas mumbled back.

“So you’re finally dating your roommate, huh, Cassie?” Balthazar asked, giving Cas a possibly suspicious look.

“Yes, yeah.” Cas was trying to pull himself together, but he obviously hadn’t expected having to lie to his friends already. “Dating my roommate!”

Balth still looked unsure but he didn’t say anything about it as Gabe pulled a chair to sit across from Sam and Cas and asked, “How long you been together? And with out telling us, Cas?”

“Uh, five weeks now, I guess.” Sam intertwined his fingers with Cas’s, partially because they had to look like realistic boyfriends but mostly because he was nervous and it made him feel better. “And no one really knows yet. We’re, um, I guess we’re taking it slow. Yeah.”

“When’s the wedding?” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.

Cas, who’d been taking a sip of his eggnog, almost choked. “What? Sam literally just said taking it slow.”

“He’s only joking, Cassie.” Balthazar smirked. “Don’t panic… Come on, Gabriel. Let’s leave the two lovers alone.”

“Ugh, fine. Catch you later, assholes.”

“Uh-huh. See you, Gabe.”

After Gabriel stumbled back into the main part of the cafe, Balthazar gave them a look. “Work on your acts, boys. Don’t know why you’re doing it, but if you want to be convincing... Well, you’re going to have to be a lot more convincing.” He left before either of them could reply.

“Could’ve gone worse?” Sam shrugged and Cas ran his fingers through his messy hair.

“It’s okay. We’ll make this work.” He stood up, not letting go of Sam’s hand, and pulled him to his feet. “Wanna go home?”

“Yeah. Dunno when exactly Dean’s driving up tomorrow, but I should probably get things ready for him.”

Jo winked at them as they walked past the counter, fingers still entangled.

“Thanks… for the eggnog, Jo,” Sam added, even though it was a lot more than that. “Goodnight.”

a/n: i’m.... not sure?? if this is any good?? but yeah??? there it is?? i hope i’ll have the next part up soon. feedback is appreciated, loves. xxx

Eggnog and Lies Tag List:  @plaid-lover-bay25 @wintersfavoritechild @feathersinthesky @scentedglitterpeace @bernalheights @yifera @teenwolf-theoriginalsgirl @assbutt-still-in-hell @alliekay727 @ronweascly @mylifeisafuckingcrueljoke @ladylilithprime @jazzforthecaptain @lilsliceofpie @youarentreadingthis @otera-kicks-ass @secretlydaydreaminglifeaway @syeriane @nevermeanttofall @waywardtimelord @samspurpletoothbrush @kisahawklin @samflovver @soulless-sastiel @onlyslightlyobsessed1 @just-another-apple-scruff @heyjudecarryonbaby @dazzling-roaring-20s @supernaturalgirl33-blog-blog @italy-kun27 @pewdpewd @xxxcrimson-spyxxx @cat-fellow @thesmellofasinnamonroll @martorada @scentedglitterpeace @all-day-i-scream-about-sports @confessionsofafulltimenerd @devoted-to-boyking-samshine @yuseatonpotter @elliwhat @deadinsidebutliving

If you wanna get added to the tags or removed, hmu! literally so sorry if you were interested in @ladylilithprime‘s thing (because who isn’t interested in their writing?? it’s incredible??) and not mine!!

[jaxssecretroom]

Insomnia pt.2

Type: Angst, Fluff, (maybe some light smut in the future)

Pairing: Chanyeol X reader, Xiumin X reader (might change as the story goes on?)

TW:Mentions of rape

College!au

Word count: 1,8k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror desperately trying to make your ponytail look halfway decent. You didn’t mind your work outfit that much, but the fact that you had to wear your hair in a tight ponytail with a hat that looked like it belonged on a doll and not a grown person kinda bothered you.

You put on the short-sleeved white button up shirt, the olive green skirt that was almost too short, and finally the black apron. Not really something you enjoyed wearing in the cold autumn weather. You grabbed the raincoat from the hook next to the door in one hand, and your umbrella in the other and headed out.

You went in through the back entrance, as always.

“Hey Y/N, your here early” Earl, the main cook and your boss, greeted you with his crooked smile. He was a good boss. He cared for all of his employees and insisted on only hiring college students like yourself. This would sometimes bring in creeps who were much older than the employees but still thought, for whatever reason, they might “get some”. And these men would always be there during your shifts since you mostly worked nights.

“Just being a diligent worker” you smiled back. “So, what do you think? Will it be a busy night?” You struggled to put that damn hat on.

“Nope. But you do have customers in booth 5.” Nicki, the day waitress who was just getting of her shift answered. You finally got the hat to stay on.

“Just fix your name tag sweetie” You looked down at your name tag and realized it was upside down. “Oh, thanks Nicki” you fumbled with it until it was in place.

 “Bye boss, bye Y/N” she said as she made here way out the back, you and Earl waving goodbye. 

You made sure once again your uniform was on properly and made your way out of the kitchen. Nicki was right, it didn’t look like it was gonna be a busy night. The diner was mostly empty except two girls studying in booth 1, which was on the right-hand corner, and a group of guys in booth 5, in the left-hand corner. Since you could see the girls were already served you walked over to the other group. You were amused when you saw that one of the guys was Minseok.

 “So, you’re stalking me now?” Minseok looked up and seemed to be genuinely surprised by your presence. 

 “No, actually we live across the street. If anything, you’re the one stalking me.” He smiled and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. The other two guys were obviously confused by the interaction. 

 “Guys, this is the girl whose room we broke into last night, Y/N.” He gestured towards you and the other men just sat there, frozen, not knowing what to say. You could see the guilt in their eyes.

 “So these are your partners in crime huh?” you shot them each a smile and they seemed to relax. They were both handsome, and even tho one of them was wearing a sweater and the other a hoodie you could just tell they were well built. 

“Yeah, this is Yixing” he gestured towards the taller of the two with a cute dimple in his smile. “ and Joonmyeon, the mastermind behind the plan” he gestured towards the one who was wearing the sweater. You could see Joonmyeon shoot Minseok a ‘wtf man’ look and you laughed. This whole situation was so bizarre. 

“Look we are really sorry, we had no idea-” Joonmyeon started.

 “No, it’s okay, really. Minseok explained everything.” You reassured them. “So what can I get you?” you asked tapping your little pad with your pen.

 “What do you recommend?” Yixing asked smiling at you.

 “Well, Dimples, since you asked…” you heard Minseok let out a laugh. “My personal favorite is the peanut butter chicken” you said, pointing at the menu with your pen. None of them really seemed impressed by your suggestion.

 “Why are you asking for recommendations? I thought you lived across the street, this can’t be your first time eating here.”

 “Hey, don’t I didn’t lie” Minseok immediately defended himself.

 “Actually it is my first time eating here. I don’t know about them.” Yixing explained. You nodded and wrote down their orders. Joonmyeon ordered the spicy wings, Yixing the hamburger, and Minseok the special of the day.

 As they were leaving that night they left you with a pretty generous tip and about a million apologies. After that time they came to the diner a lot more often, and mostly during your shift. They always sat in the same booth, and always ordered the same things: the spicy wings, a hamburger and the daily special. And every time you’d tease them about their failed break-in attempt. But that was it, you couldn’t really call them friends since you never hung out with them. They were just regulars at the diner. 

 Then the night that ‘it’ happened.

 They came in as usual, but this time the diner was much busier. All the tables, but one, were taken. Since you worked alone serving the people at the tables you didn’t really have time joke around with the guys that time. You didn’t even take their order since you knew exactly what they would get. As you were bringing them their food you stopped to give a man, who had come alone, his order, a black coffee. 

You put the coffee and the receipt on his table, and smiled like you always did at customers. As you were leaving you felt someone grab your ass. It was unexpected. You quickly turned around and the man winked at you. He winked at you. You felt disgusted and angry but you didn’t know how to react. 

So you just turned around and headed towards the guys’ table. Minseok had seen what happened and he was coming your way. You had never seen him angry, but you had a feeling that this was as angry as he gets. His fist was clenched, teeth gritting. You realized what his intention was and blocked his path.

“Don’t.” You said quietly, hoping nobody else could hear you. He looked you in the eyes and his expression softened. You felt your stomach turn. Was he really willing to hurt somebody for touching your ass without permission?

“Anybody would do that Y/N. Don’t think too much of it.” You thought to yourself.

You walked back to his table together.

 “You should have let beat the living crap out of him” he said as you placed the bowl of spaghetti in front of him.

 “What happened?” Yixing and Joonmyeon asked simultaneously. 

 “Nothing. Forget about it Minseok.” you walked away before he could protest.

 It wasn’t long before the diner started emptying out. You would catch the man staring at you a couple of times. He didn’t look like a creep. He looked like the average man who was in his late 20s. You would also occasionally catch Minseok staring at you, and his anger didn’t seem to be growing weaker. But eventually the guys finished eating and were about to leave. You said goodbye to Yixing and Joonmyeon, but had to practically kick Minseok out. He didn’t want to leave and insisted on walking you home after work. But you still had 4 hours in your shift and you didn’t want to make him wait.

 The first two hours went by fast. Earl asked if you could lock up tonight because he had to go home early. You did really mind doing this, so you agreed and he gave you his spare key. You looked at the time and it was half past midnight. Just an hour and a half until closing time. But the man, he was still there. Still sipping on his coffee. You had refilled his cup 4 times already. He had been sitting there for almost 4 hours and he was making you nervous. You could feel him staring at you. That’s why you felt so relieved when he left 30 minutes to closing time. He just took his coat, left a 20$ bill on the table and left. 

 By the time it was time to lock up the diner had long been empty. You cleaned the floor and made sure all the tables were wiped. You said goodbye to the other workers and locked the main entrance after them. You headed out the back and locked the door after yourself.

As you were putting the key in your purse you thought you heard someone breathing heavily. This made you nervous, because the dark alley was already creepy enough. 

Someone grabbed you, pushing you roughly against the wall. Your breath hitched when youn saw it was the man from the diner. He was stalking you, like a lion would a prey. He was waiting for you so he could do this.

‘‘You-’‘ he put his hand over your mouth so you couldn’t scream. You knew exactly what his intentions were, but you didn’t want to believe it.  His hands felt rough against your soft lips. And the fear kicked in, paired with anger both at your attacker and yourself. Why didn’t you just let Minseok walk you home? Why didn’t you ask one of your coworkers to wait for you? Why did you agree to lock up? This was your fault for not noticing that the guy was obviously dangerous.

“Just don’t fight it and don’t scream” he whispered in your ear and the small hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You felt a warm tear stream down your face. You pushed him with all your strength. He stumbled back for a moment but before you knew it his hands were around your neck. You felt a shriek leave your throat and hoped it was loud enough for someone to hear. Anyone. He was much stronger than he seemed and you quickly felt your mind going blank and vision going black.

Like a prayer answered you found yourself gasping for air as his hands disappeared from your neck. You weren’t quite sure what was happening but you found yourself on the ground with a sharp pain in your temple. You tried desperately to see what was going on but your vision was blurry and your head was pounding.

“Hey, miss are you okay?!”

“Y/N!!”

A/N: I didn’t proof read this one. Hope you guys liked it ٩(♡ε♡ )۶. Thanks for reading.

[many-miscellaneous-musings]

Jughead x Fem!Reader- Memoir of a Broken Youth

Warnings: alcoholism, child abuse, mentions of child death, depression, swearing and drugs. Please don’t read if any of that sounds triggering to you loves, I want you to take care of yourselves.

Words: 3674

(Y/n) made your way through the halls of Riverdale high, her shoulders hunched over and her stare on the ground as she ducked through the hallways, avoiding as many people as she possibly could. Her (h/l), (H/c) hair covering her face as she made her way through the crowded building, determined to get to her first class as early as she could. She simply wanted to enjoy the quiet of an empty classroom to calm her frazzled nerves until she was forced to deal with the buffoons around her.

(Y/N) had always been somewhat shy and quiet. Someone who didn’t have any friends and she was completely content with that. People led to heartbreak, people were not trustworthy in any way. Her friends of the past had taught her that, and so had her family. The girl’s parents for the most part were happy when she was a child, until her sister had gotten sick.

The girl had only been 13 years old when her little sister had passed away. The small girl had been so frail and ill, (Y/N) had almost been happy when she went, because that meant the baby sister she loved so much would stop being in pain.

The hardest part was her parents. They had grown to forget that their older daughter had existed.The first 6 months were easier than the later years. Her mother wallowed in a depression, sitting in front of the tv without moving for days at a time before remembering she had things to do, and would shuffle out of the room to eat something small, or do some small chore. For the most part though she would be in her room. (Y/N)’s father was another story. He threw himself into his work, and had began to work longer and longer hours. The family had hospital bills to pay and with her mother unable to work, her father was stuck.

It was the second half of the first year when things became harder. Work was no longer enough to pay the bills, and (Y/N)’s father joined the south side serpents, hoping that if he could help with the drug pedalling he could gain the extra cash needed to support the family. Its too bad that the drugs in the home soon became her mothers only pass time, her father turning to alcohol when the weight of the world seemed to be too much.

At only 13 years old the girl had learned that people left. That no one would be there forever, because if her family couldn’t be, the ones who were supposed to be there always were willing to simply forget she existed, then no one could be trusted.

At 14 years old she taught herself how to cook, and clean the house. Someone had to do it, and she couldn’t go on scrounging around the house for whatever was around when her father had chosen to go grocery shopping, or what she could sneak from her friends homes. The friends she was slowly losing because of her home life.

By the time she started school at Riverdale High, she was the sole legal breadwinner of her family, her father getting too deep in the alcohol and Serpent business (sometimes he would bring money home, but it was never a reliable source), her mother too addicted to her drugs. The small girl worked long hours at Pop’s to buy the groceries, and spent as much time as she could in school to prevent herself from having to go home.

Even if she wanted friends, there was little time for them. Her spare time was spent writing or drawing, her paintings being the one thing that she could pour her soul and feelings into. Her one escape from this hellhole. She often gave up sleep to draw, or to write, though her drawings were always her favourite thing. She drew everything around her, and everything she could think of in her life, as a way to jot down what was happening. It was easier to draw her feelings from the still life images around her, than to write out her feelings in some diary.

She was clutching the sketchpad in her arms as she ducked beneath football players arms, spun past cheerleaders who walked in too large groups in the hall, and snuck past the rest. When she made it to her english room she sat down in her usual seat, breathing a sigh of relief as she laid the sketchpad in front of her, drawing a picture of her sister upon the pages, an image of before she got sick, of happier times. She barely even noticed as the bell had rang, and the artist quickly shoved her work away, looking to the front of the class as the teacher began to teach.

What she never noticed were the boy’s eyes that were glanced towards her from his seat beside her. Her eyes were focussed on her work, and she never knew that Jughead Jones was staring at her discretely. To him she was the one person he had never been able to find out. The one person in all of Riverdale he hadnt been able to learn anything about. All he knew was from the news clippings, the small obituary that had been dedicated to her sister. He only knew it was her sister because her name had been in the bottom, and he had heard the girls last name spoken in class a couple of times. He knew she could write, from the few pieces of writing the teachers had forced her to read to the class, but he only knew there was talent, as she never wrote of anything personal. Only stories and tales of fiction. He knew of a tiny bit of your past, and that she seemed nice enough when she served him at Pop’s. He had been wanting to ask questions, but had always held his tongue.

What he didn’t know was that she was as intrigued by him, as he was by her. She was the person she couldn’t figure out, the one that was different from the rest. The one that she could see herself getting along with, if she could break through her haze of mistrust. She refused to talk to him, besides a small hello in the diner while she worked. She refused to get to know him, but she was as attracted to him as he was to her.

At the end of class he was still watching her as she packed up her things and headed out the door of the classroom, not a sound leaving her lips as she went. Later that day he caught sight of her again, sitting under the large tree at the very back of the school grounds, the same sketchpad balanced upon her legs as she worked feverishly.

“Why don’t you just go talk to the girl?” Veronica had asked, an eye roll present as she spoke.

“Because no one ever talks to her Ronnie, she doesn’t like people,” Betty said, shaking her head, blonde ponytail bobbing as she did. She herself had tried to befriend (Y/N) after her sisters death, but it had been to no avail.

“So? Jughead didn’t either and look where we are now,” the noirette giggled, a sigh of exasperation leaving her lips, “Anyone can see that youre interested in her, so go, shoo, talk to her,” she said as she waved her hands towards the dark haired male.

“No way in hell, two girls around me is annoying as it is,” he said, his attention focussed on the laptop in front of him. Ronnie just rolled her eyes again, but allowed the subject to drop. For that day.

She would goad him to talk to her almost everyday, and he always refused. It was, much to his annoyance, thanks to Reggie Mantle that he had been able to befriend her. The Jock had been watching her from across the student lounge, an undeniable smirk on his face. It was the day after Archie had jumped in and defended Jughead against Reggie’s taunts. The topic of conversation was the same, but this time, Reggie had another target chosen.

“You know, if it wasn’t Donnie Darko over there,” he said, sneering as he motioned his head towards Jughead, “Then it had to be southside trash over there,” he said, his gaze turning to where the girl was sitting. She usually hated to be in the student lounge, but her usual spot had been taken over by some freshman. She would do with the student lounge for now, until she found a new spot.

“Oh come on Reg, theres no way such a little thing would be able to do that,” laughed another one of the jocks, his head shaking as Reggie rolled his eyes.

“I bet she helped Darko, I bet the freaks got off on it. I wonder if shes even drawing the scene in that little book,” Chuck laughed, making his way over to where the girl was sitting. She had her headphones plugged into her phone and she didn’t hear them coming, only realizing what was happening until the sketchpad was ripped from her lap. She watched in horror as Chuck looked through the pages, mirth in his eyes and a laugh on his lips as he flipped through the pages at the front of the book. (Y/N) jumped up and tried to grab it from him but he held it out of her reach.

“These are such shit, I cant even figure out what half of them are,” Chuck said with a roaring laugh, “I bet that a 2 year old could do better. This is what you waste your time on freak? Id suggest you get another hobby,” he said, passing the book over to the rest of the group. The men laughed as she tried to fight them back for the book, terrified of her work being harmed, and of what he would see. They were all she had to express herself, they were the most important possession and she ended up punching one of the jocks in the face to try and get it back.

“Feisty,” the larger boy had said before walking towards her, cornering her effectively, fists clenched and then they were raised to hit back before in a flash someone was on the jocks back, pulling him away from her. There was a scuffle, the girl darted out of the corner to help, now able to see Jughead in the scuffle. When the fight broke apart he had stooped down to help her pick up the drawings, the ones that had fluttered out of the sketchbook and been stomped on, the ones that the team had torn out in attempts to pass the book around too roughly, the ones from the very back of the book that she had never intended anyone to ever see. In these he could see small snippets of her life, and learned too much.

She could only face him with a cold glare as she finished picking them up before the two of them had to sit across from each other in the principals office. She said nothing, fear in her heart over what he must have seen. Drawings of her life that she had been so careful to show no one. An image of her mother, staring blankly at the television screen. An image of her father, sleeping and surrounded by beer bottles, as a look of near peace crossed his face. Her art was her memoir. The good and the bad in her life, she had always drawn. And he had just seen it.

At the end of the meeting with the principal she quickly left, and Jughead watched her go, a look of more intense confusion in his eyes as he did. He saw her again at Pop’s, working at the counter and serving tables. He again said nothing, until she slid into his booth, a sigh falling from her lips, and a look of annoyance and sadness on her face.

“Please tell no one, I don’t think that the Jocks will do anything, hell I dont even think they saw the ones you saw. They were just trying to laugh, theyre too stupid to think to do anything, and they wouldn’t ruin their reputations on saying anything about it. I know they’ll be silent, but I need you to do the same,” she had said and he frowned, closing the laptop.

“We all have our secrets, yours wont be told. I just want to know why?” He asked, brows furrowing down.

“Saying things will make it worse. I don’t want to make things worse for me or for them,” was all she said and he nodded.

“Whatever you want, not my secret to tell,” he said and she sighed in relief. “Thank you,” she said softly before continuing to work. Jughead stayed true to his word, not breathing a word of what he had seen upon the sketchpad pages to anyone. She was grateful for it, and soon found herself comfortable enough to begin spending her breaks in the booth, sitting across from him in silence as she drew more images.

“Theyre actually quite good you know,” he said, his eyes not wavering from the computer screen in front of his face.

“Your art, you have talent,” was all he said and she let a small smile appear on her lips.

“Thanks, your writing is quite good as well. Ive heard it in class,” she said and he smirked.

“Its nothing compared to what I’m working on,” he said and (Y/N) raised an eyebrow.

“Ah yes, the famous novel. Ive heard rumour you were writing it,” she said and saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Im sure it will be great,” she said before the pair lapsed into another comfortable silence. That was all they needed, and that was the spark to (Y/N)’s first friendship.

She hadnt known it then, but she would open up to him in the months afterwards. The two never spoke of their home lives, but they swiftly became good friends. The two clicked, and he slowly allowed her to open up to him as she felt comfortable. The two became best friends, clicking in ways that none of the rest of the group had matched with him, and they both suffered from one thing. Their feelings growing deeper.

It took a long time to convince (Y/N) to join the group of friends, but when she did Jug couldn’t keep that small smile off of his face. He was proud of her for giving it a shot, and was glad that the rest of the group had seemed to like her a lot. Not as much as he did, but nearly. And she found that while she had never known it, she had always craved this. This sense of normalcy, and this feeling of acceptance. She had not felt like this since her sister’s passing, this feeling of just being a kid. She began to hang out with the group more and more, cherishing the fact that she had become part of the sad breakfast club.

She had not allowed any of them to see her art, except for Jughead, who would critique her and help her grow as an artist, just as she would help him edit and fix the novel.

But their feelings remained unspoken until a couple months after she had joined their little group of misfits.Things had been getting worse in her home, her mother and father when they werent passed out drunk or stoned, they were fighting. Screaming at each other and being violent, which she thankfully was rarely apart of. All she dealt with was cleaning up the aftermath, until the day her father had seen her with Jughead.

“Is that your boyfriend?” He had slurred, pointing out the window as the black haired male left the property and the girl had blinked.

“No, just a friend dad,” she said, biting back the comment that, oh for once he had remembered she had existed.

Her father had barked out a laugh, “Little thing like you shouldn’t have any friends, such a nuisance you are, not like your sister was. She was a good girl, never any trouble, unlike you,” he said and she bit her tongue, trying to hold back her own tears.

“I know she wasn’t dad, she was a good girl,” she said softly as she started to clear away the beer bottles in front of the older man. She grabbed a half full one and his hand flashed, a burning sensation across her cheek.

“Not fucking finished with that you fucking ungrateful bitch,” he said and went back to drinking it. It was the physical abuse that was her breaking point. It got worse from there, constantly showing up to school with new bruises and having to hide them from her friends. It hurt her, she had only just began to open up to them, and new secrets had formed. It pained her more because in that time she had had Jughead open up to her about the drive in. He had told her everything and she had hugged him gingerly, guilt gnawing at her insides because he trusted her enough with this secret, and she didn’t trust him enough with her own. In part it was her undeniable issues with trust, but it was also her not wanting to be a burden on him. He had enough that he was struggling with, and she always thought that she would be able to deal with her shit without piling it on him as well.

From then on when things became too much she would spend some nights at the drive in, whenever she could she would escape and pass out on the mattress beside her best friend after they had stayed up late, watching movies and doing their own thing, taking comfort simply from each other’s presence.

She hit her breaking point after a year of it when her father had beaten her until she knew there would be no hiding it. As much as she had loved her parents, she couldn’t do it anymore. she hobbled up to her room and collected everything of value. Her art was packed into her bag, with clothing for the night. She would go to Betty or Ronnie in the morning, she would get them to go with her to talk to Kevin. She would need all the strength of her new found friends to approach the sheriff about what was happening. But with them by her side she knew she would be able to do it. She just needed help, and she knew she wouldn’t survive if she kept it going like this any longer. When she had enough for a couple of days she snuck out the window as best she could and limped her way to the drive in, where she knocked on the door. Jughead answered the door, pyjamas on, hair a mess, bleary eyed and exhausted.

“(Y/N)? What are you-“ he started before immediately waking up as he saw the bag in her hand and the bruises on her face. She broke down sobbing at that point and he held her, leading her inside the projector room and holding her in his lap as he mumbled words of comfort to her. He promised her it would be ok, that he was there for her, he held her like a glass doll until she fell asleep in his arms. He was pissed she had waited so long to tell him, but he would yell at her later for holding it back. He would scold her and call her an idiot when she wasnt the broken mess he was holding. He would give her hell, just in some time.

He couldn’t sleep though, and he just stared at her, admiring her face and holding her tighter when she seemed to begin to have a nightmare. He couldnt sleep knowing that this had been going on and he hadnt been able to stop it, that she hadnt felt she could come to him. He pressed a soft kiss to her head that night as he thought she was asleep, mumbling ever so softly about how much he loved her and how he would never let her get hurt again.

What he didn’t know, was that she was in fact awake, and listening to every word. She blinked and looked up at his face as the word love fell from his lips and she watched the colour drain from him, as he began to stutter out an apology and an excuse. She shut him up by kissing his lips, savouring the feeling of his soft ones against her slightly chapped ones. His hands cupped her face as they kissed each other passionately, trying to say the unsaid things through it.

“I love you too Juggie,” she had mumbled as she pulled away and he had smiled softly, resting his forehead against hers.

“You should know its rude to eavesdrop,” he said softly and she rolled her eyes.

“And its pointless to talk to people when they arent listening,” she said and he let out another one of his small smiles. From that point on they were a couple, and he helped her the most when it came time to talk to their friends. They arrived hand in hand on Veronica’s doorstep, Betty and Kevin joining the noirette in answering the door.

“I knew it! My ship is sailing!” Kevin had said dramatically as he flailed his hands and stared at where Jughead and (Y/N)’s were clasped, not able to see the girls face as her hair was covering it and a hood was up. She had wanted to attract as little attention as she could on the walk to the home, knowing that there would be enough attention later.

“Congratulations guys!” Betty had said before engulfing them both in a crushing hug, that made the couple tense up. The hood and hair though, was something that did not go unnoticed by Ronnie, the tensing the final nail in the coffin to make her ask what was wrong. That was when (Y/N) looked up at her friends, bruises now on full display. The mood turned sour and the girl was ushered inside, where she spilled everything. Her hand firmly clasped in Jughead’s, no one noticing the small act of PDA in that moment. They would talk about this when things were settled, for now, the most important thing was keeping Veronica from killing (Y/N)’s mother and father. Was getting the sheriff on the phone and getting her life sorted out.

Betty and Veronica would join her and Jughead in collecting her things from her home, and she would move in with Ronnie, though they all knew she would more often be spending the time at Jughead’s.

It was hard, but she managed it, and she knew this was the first step in getting better. She would be fine, so long as she had her boyfriend by her side, and her friends at her back. She would continue on, leaning on her support system when she needed it. Her drawings were no longer simply memoirs of a broken youth, but a story of strength. Her art books soon filled with pictures of her friends smiling faces, her boyfriend doing whatever he was doing when the muses struck her, images of them kissing or cuddling that she had seen in the mirror. Images of him hunched over his laptop late at night, of him more than anything. They continued to tell her story, going from rock bottom, right back up to where she, and everyone else deserves to be. They became happier.

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This is my first one obviously, and I would love to know what people think? Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! Hope you guys enjoyed >.< I’m not totally happy with it, but I’m never happy with anything I write so lets just see how it goes xD

[garyzarrt-blog]

My Wall 7 & 8

7          The battle of the diner!

“Leave him alone!” a tall man I had seen my building shouted at the diner owner. “Take your hands off him!” cried a Haitian nurse who worked in the nearby hospital (the one with the excellent ER unit that I had used when several of my girlfriends were hurt when my rather heavy gentle tortoise, Freedom, nested peacefully on their chests in bed causing suffocation and even in serious cases, afib. At least there weren't any severe allergic reactions like with cats. I'm not sure this mattered to my hospitalized girlfriends.) “No, throw him out – he is a scumbag! The wall stands of exclusion!” “Social justice for all!” “Give him his eggs and toast!” “Go fuck yourself!” “No, you go fuck yourself!” The fat owner was beside himself – he had no hair so he rubbed his head like a madman. “You are bad for my business! I always knew it! I always knew it about you!  Even though you were a good eater – you want to kill my business!” He punched my wall but his hand bounced off the surface. (I laughed the way truly great celebrities and giants of history do when they are under attack by pygmies.) “Call the cops!” “They won’t do shit!” “The cops are the walls themselves! They kill black men!  They kill the poor! They kill innocent people!" “The police keep us safe! Fuck you! They have nothing to do with this moron and his wall or any other walls. They keep us safe.” Some people clapped. Others jeered. I had no idea, really, that my wall would have this immediate impact. I had no idea of the virulence it would unleash. “The cops will only ask for a free breakfast."  Laughter. "So let them have it – they work their asses off like us.” More laughter. But then more screaming and cursing and yelling. I noticed everyone in my neighborhood diner – African-Americans, Asians, older white retirees, Millennials, students, Latinos, even children with their mothers -- began to stand up. The middle-aged Korean guy who ran the dry cleaner across the street was jumping up and down. “I am for the wall! I am for the wall! We need law and order!  The wall will bring law and order! I am for the wall!" The diner owner was right – my invention had uncorked long dormant emotions inside his usually placid customers.  The truth of my wall was America's truth, too. In some ways my wall showed the divisions among people who rarely talked politics or religion or other heavy topics. Spam and hash fries flew around me. I ducked further within my wall for protection. Dishes and bialys splattered against the colored stucco walls painted with bulky, malformed Greek gods and goddesses and voluptuous nymphs with tiny eyes who seemed to be doing steroids. Bowls of oatmeal, and cups of the watered-down diner coffee I knew and loved (and which powered most of New York) were being hurled by diners with varying degrees of accuracy, at each other, at the bald owner, and at me. My hair was sticky from the maple syrup that had splashed over the top of my wall when I suffered a direct hit with a buttered short stack. (But, otherwise, my Stayaway walls made me impregnable.) My wall had incited a full scale riot in my neighborhood diner. Later, I would become the darling of some and a pariah to others. I feared for my life. Food was flying, the shouting was making my wall vibrate. Then I heard sirens. I escaped by plunging under the fat Greek owner’s flailing arms, and past Elvis, who was trying to mop up the floor which was slick and treacherous.  Two frail senior citizens in wheelchairs and oxygen tanks struggled, and held each other by the throat in a prehistoric death lock. I ran out, no, more accurately, I hopped and skipped, because my wall, at least during this early phase, didn’t permit Olympic dashes or long distance running. Not seeing where I was going, once on the sidewalk, I rushed west, towards Broadway.

8          I flee

I was starting to feel cold; even with my coat on (I had gotten my coat extended at the tailor so it fit nicely beneath my wall), I began to shiver. I found it tricky to trot. I bumped into passersby, many of them smiled and nodded, and at one point I found myself face-to-face with the sweet man from Yemen who sells coffee from behind one of those steaming street carts. (His coffee is no better than the diner, but I felt compelled to buy one since Jose, and even Elvis, never got around to serving me.) “I have to get out of here -- fast,” I said in a harried voice since I figured the police would be following me after the riot in the diner. My hands may have been shaking as I reached over the top of my wall. The coffee man from Yemen, who once showed me a photo of his young family in Queens, also had an odd American-sounding name, I mean for a person like him. It was Willie. (Note to self and the world – immigrants use ultra-American-sounding names because they want to fit in, they want to make it in America, because they are seeking their own golden bowling alley like my Dad back home leading to wealth and fame. How admirable. Wait till they all have their own walls!) Willie handed the coffee to me over the wall. “Thanks, I wish I could stay to talk, but I have to get out of here fast,” I yelled. (I screamed to make sure people beyond my wall would hear me.) “Inshallah,” Willie replied, beaming as always, trying to shove a blueberry doughnut the size of a baseball mitt over the wall.  (Sensing my distress, Willie wanted to make sure I had enough food – this is another touching American trait, in particular among groups who overly harsh critics of our country choose to call “marginalized.” These recent Americans make sure to eat a lot, and as quickly and often as possible, most likely because their nutrition is never assured. (My turtle, Freedom, used to eat this way when I first got her. She was very skittish. Back then, Freedom barfed a lot. I guess gorging is a survival instinct.  It’s certainly American.) I’m not sure what Willie meant when he spoke in his language (I think it was Arabic) but it sounded very kind. Feverish and expecting the worst at any moment, I headed in the direction of the subway, with Willie waving the sugary baseball mitt-size doughnut. An accountant I knew from the neighborhood advised me, “Take it. Take it. Don’t be proud. Willie’s a generous man. Take it. Take it.” I knew I didn’t have time. And I didn't have to go to work. (I could get away with a few more mental health days). While I had always found the subway to be an escape, right now it was a literal escape – from the police and the bald diner owner, and perhaps others who seemed to be trailing me as I made my way along 23rd Street. I knew people from the diner were running after me, too – either to carry me on their shoulders like a modern day hero, or to trash my wall which I knew (and hope you understand) is impossible because of how it was constructed – the material and design. (I didn’t realize until much later in the day, when my fortune had been made in the most unlikely way, when I saw the chaos of my retreat from the diner captured on local evening TV news, that I had caused chaos during morning rush hour on East 23rd Street. Months after, when some of my supporters in Miami filed a Freedom of Information Act with the government, I found out that because of what had happened when I went outside the first time wearing my wall, I was considered such a threat that Homeland Security had been called just in case my wall was evaluated to be an act of homegrown terrorism. I was on the edge of disappearing into a black ops site, which I hear are mostly located on Staten Island; there are many in New Jersey, too. In the midst of my confusion, a homeless guy asked me for money. He took a swing at me when I rushed past, and because of the Stayaway protection of my wall he bounced, not just his left fist but all of him, out into traffic. (Note to self and the world – my wall, when used by others can become the central part of an American self-defense system. Another sign of the relevance and timelessness of my idea!) I heard a clanging Salvation Army bell. I looked up at the green neon sign of a bar I knew but had avoided because the music was way too low, making conversation actually audible, something I found undesirable when socializing with others; particularly on dates.  (Note to self and the world – perhaps the fact that my wall baffles sound is grounded in the deep need we Americans have to stay in our own worlds, to maintain our mental space. It enhances the suspicion we seem to have for each other, and especially for strangers, people who don’t look like us. There are so many – in a place like New York. My wall will sell like hot cakes!) I could hardly breathe. I did not want know what was going to happen next. I was blacking out. (Note to self and the world – doing things in the real world is way more stressful than online. Why is this so?) That’s when I heard the consoling rumble beneath me. I knew I had reached the subway near Madison Square Park. For a moment, very hungry, I thought about seeing if the original Shake Shack was open. (I was hungry because I had never had my scrambled eggs and buttered whole wheat toast.) I had refused the jelly doughnut from Willie.  But, Shake Shack opened later, of course. I was delirious, and anyway there would be the usual endless line.   I couldn’t wait.  I had not time to waste. “Get him!” They weren’t far behind. I tried to turn to see through the holes in the wall who was behind me. I saw a mob not far away. “That’s him! That’s the crazy scrambled eggs guy!” "He's a martyr for all progressives!" A couple, tourists, started taking photos of me. “Hey, check out that guy with the walls!” “What a cool costume!” I gulped the rest of my coffee and sky hooked the cup out from behind my wall into the closest litter basket. (I played basketball in high school. Kareem Abdul Jabar was one of my Dad's idols.) I peered through my wall and saw the subway steps.  Before I could move, I felt something warm and wet on my left shoe. A small dog that was walked by a sad pretty young girl stopped, sniffed, deliberated, and then decided to use my impervious Stayaway wall as the perfect new spot to mark his territory.  As the warm liquid, ran down my ankle and into my sock, the girl giggled, said “Woah,” and tugged on the leash. The midget dog yapped and nipped the bottom of my pants. I got in one good kick before I practically fell down the subway steps. The urination was public shaming, if you ask me. It was time to get our country back - to fight back - even against entitled miniature dogs with serious attitude. Revolutions always start small.

Monday afternoon January 9, 2017

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