#when they had the last entire semester + whatever is of this semester so far to do it

[crescentmp3]

hi that went fine.

[cherriegyuu]

Willow | 01

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst, marriage of convenience word count: 8.3k summary: seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does (or in which seungcheol is just really dumb and doesn't know how to show his feelings)

part one | part two | part three (final) | drabble

You looked at yourself in the mirror and you looked pretty. Many people had worked hard to make you look like that, and at the end of the day, they had succeeded. The only problem was that you didn't feel beautiful. On any other day, you would have loved the attention and would have enjoyed the feeling of getting your body so meticulously cared for. But that wasn’t one of those days. Not when the choices of you ever doing what you wanted again were so slim.

The idea that now you had to report your every move to someone pained you as much as it angered you. Of course that you weren't angry at him; just like you, Seungcheol had little to no choice in the matter. 

It was just that much worse that the person you were supposed to be with was Seungcheol. You had known him for most of your life, went to the same schools, had the same circle of friends up until high school. The problem was that you never saw eye to eye in situations, whether it was something as simple as deciding where to go after class or more pressing matters — like wanting or not to be part of your family's business. 

To your surprise, Seungcheol wanted it. You had always seen him as the one who would break away from the family, who would drift away from expectations and be whatever he wanted to be. But such a thing never happened.

The last time you saw Seungcheol was during your high school graduation. As thought back to that day, it was easy to notice just how much he had changed. As your final year approached, you slowly drifted apart, and it was during that time that you realized that Seungcheol was your future, and he probably knew that you were his as well. 

You expected him to go around talking to everyone, being his usual talkative self but none of that ever happened. That was probably the first time you saw Seungcheol with a frown on his face, hands deeps inside his pockets, as he looked at everyone else without a word. Almost as if he was studying the people around him. 

Looking at him, you felt like he was saying goodbye, finally realizing the inevitable future that lay ahead of him. You felt an uncertain need to go to him. You felt everything he seemed to be feeling, you were just better at hiding it. When you took a step to get closer to him, Seungcheol looked at you. It was easy to figure out that he didn't want you to come closer to him, so instead to do what you thought that you should, you walked away.

Throughout the four years of college, there was radio silence on his end. Although both of you attended the same university, your majors were entirely different — his was law and yours was music — and so you never crossed paths. 

If you were being honest, you expected him to be popular, to always be the center of attention among his classmates and with girls but none of that ever happened. The only certain way to get any kind of information about him was when you called your parents not that you asked but Seungcheol is doing fine, top of his class, your mom used to tell you.

You always laughed at the notion. The Seungcheol you knew, that loud boy with a cheerful attitude, was average, at most, when it came to studies. The mere idea of him being the best in his class was laughable. Or at least it was until graduation.

As you had expected, your parents made you go. You sat far in the back, as away from the graduates as you possibly could. All of it was truly boring until you saw Seungcheol go up to the stage Top of his class since the first semester. You couldn't really believe it but you also couldn't doubt the dean’s words.

You sat there in complete silence, watching Seungcheol give the most boring and uninspiring speech someone could ever give. He didn't try to say nice things, like most people would have, far from that actually. If you knew Seungcheol well, and at some point, you did know him, his speech was a loud screw all of you, but that was hidden behind a nice mask and carefully chosen words.

That was five years before. 

The next time you met was on your wedding day. There were no meetings, encounters, or dates. Emails were never sent and phone calls never happened. Neither one of you had a solid story to tell about your sudden marriage, or at least you didn't.

“y/n?” 

You finally turned away from the full-length mirror when you heard your dad's voice. Despite the situation, you found yourself smiling at him.

All through your life, your dad let you off easily. Where your mom would try to hold you back with a firm hand, your dad would loosen the leash a little. Your dad had always been more concerned about the things that you wanted to do, instead of the things that he and your mother expected you to do. When you told him that you wanted to study music rather than become an accountant like him, all he said was as long as you're happy. 

You weren't happy, far from it, but in what world could you say no to your dad? Even to your mom, with who you didn't have a good relationship with, you could never say no to her. You knew that even though she was cold, she loved you in her own way.

“How are you?”

Your sigh was more than enough for your dad. You weren't good, fine, or even okay. You were living the moment, even if you thought that the moment was terrible.

“You already know, Dad”

He nodded at you at the same time that his hand reached for your shoulders.

“I know that it may seem like the end of the world now but I assure you that it isn't. Marrying Seungcheol is my way of making sure that you'll always be cared for, and that you'll have someone to rely on when things get hard. Your mom and I married the same way, you know, and we love each other. It didn't start in the way you see in movies or read about, it wasn't passionate from the get-go. We had to build our love, nurture it and cherish it every day. Trust Seungcheol to be there for you just as I know that you'll be there for him”

Trust Seungcheol. 

Easier said than done.

Seungcheol indeed have a cover-up story. 

We've known each other almost since we were born. In my senior year at university, we went to a family gathering and it all started from there.

It was simple, so simple that no one really had the nerve to question it, though you were sure that a lot of people wanted to. Especially your friends and some of his too — or maybe they were all coworkers, it was hard to tell.

Your friends looked at you as if you were insane for getting married so suddenly, without ever even mentioning Seungcheol. Yeda just did her best to hide her surprise behind a smile, saying, now I know where you went every weekend. Upon hearing those words, Seungcheol's fingers got heavier on your lower back, and his body tensed up, but he didn't say a word.

Contrary to what you expected, pretending to be happy had been easy. It seemed like the feeling was mutual for Seungcheol, judging by the smile on his face. You couldn't expect something different from him, the man was a lawyer — a very good one — who did a fine job of charming his way around. Clients loved him, judges loved him, and even other lawyers couldn't help but also be charmed by Seungcheol.

“Cheol!”

From the other side of the room, someone shouted for Seungcheol. The two of you turned around to look at where it came from. 

“Seokmin” Seungcheol sighed. 

He should have guessed that if someone was going to make a fuss at his wedding, it would probably be Lee Seokmin. 

“I had no idea you even had a girlfriend, so imagine my surprise when I got your wedding invitation”

Inviting him was an idea that Seungcheol was already beginning to regret. Seokmin was a rookie lawyer, just starting but with great instincts. It wasn't usual for his firm to hire someone fresh out of college but the moment he laid eyes on Seokmin, he knew that the kid wasn't just another law student who thought he knew it all. Seokmin actually knew much more than he led on, was smarted than most rookies they ever hired.

“We have been rather… private about our relationship,” you said.

Seokmin’s eyes move at you, and he reached a hand to shake yours.

“I wouldn't want a man who’s more handsome than me around my incredibly beautiful girlfriend. Wife, sorry. Still processing what happened today”

You had to press your lips together to hide a smile. Seokmin reminded you of a younger Seungcheol, though that was something you would never say out loud.

“Remind me again why I even invited you” Seungcheol said between his teeth.

Seokmin put his hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his face as he rocked on his heels.

“Because, even though you shouldn't have favorites, I'm yours” Seokmin looked back at you again and winked “I'm his favorite of all the rookie lawyers”

This time you couldn't control your smile. At your side, Seungcheol grunted something in disagreement and silently shot daggers at Seokmin. You pulled Seungcheol's hand from on back and tugged at it, pulling him forward.

“Will you excuse us, Seokmin? We still have to talk to our parents”

You pulled Seungcheol away, more for him than for yourself. While you seemed to be enjoying the quick conversation with Seokmin, your husband looked as uncomfortable as someone could possibly be. 

“Are you not friends with him?” you asked quietly.

Seungcheol didn't answer you for several seconds, so you turned to look at him. The way he looked at you almost made you want to take a step back and away from him but you knew that you shouldn't. But Seungcheol didn't let you. His eyes were hot on your skin, as if with one simple look he could make your skin catch fire. He pulled you closer to his body. 

“Let's not pretend, okay? We may be married but we are not close nor friends, we are merely acquaintances who were forced to get married”

From the outside, whoever looked at your thought that you were a young couple in love, but that couldn't be further from the truth. His smile hid well the true meaning of his words, and the proximity of his body showed everyone that he wanted to be close to you when the truth was that he wanted anything in the world but that.

You leaned up in his embrace, your arm around his shoulder and your lips dangerously close to his ear. He could feel the hair against his cheeks, as you pushed on your tiptoes even further to reach him.

“Pretend is what we have to do best from now on, husband"

For the first time in his life, Seungcheol didn't understand your behavior. For the first time, he didn't have you completely figured out. 

Before, he always knew your next move, and Seungcheol took pleasure and fighting his way against it. He loved seeing you get angry and thought that it was funny how your cheeks seemed to be on fire. But looking at you in that moment felt different. Your cheeks no longer got hot, your fists weren't balled at your sides and you sure didn't look like you wanted to murder him.

The biggest surprise came when you didn't move away from him completely, and instead, your arm slid down his back and wrapped around his waist. Maybe you were better at putting on a show than he expected

“Seungcheol, y/n"

You turned around and smiled back at Seungcheol's parents.  They were responsible for this marriage just as much as yours were to blame but that didn't mean that you would be disrespectful towards them. Even if lashing out at them was exactly what you wanted to do.

“Mom, Dad,” Seungcheol said.

Walking up to the two of you, behind Seungcheol’s parents, were your own parents. Your dad seemed relieved to see you two get closer, though he knew that much of it was just for show. But a slow and fake start was better than nothing at all. And your mom was smiling at you. 

She was sure that you would eventually lean on Seungcheol, that you would let yourself fall for him but she never expected for it to happen so fast. She thought that knowing him since childhood would be a big factor in making things easier for you — if you allowed things to move forward between you and Seungcheol. 

Since the day they told you about the marriage, you pulled away from your parents, and from what they could tell you also pulled away from your friendship with Seungcheol. Your mother hoped that while you were in college you would find your way to him, find a way to love him. Seeing the smile on your face while Seungcheol, now your husband, was so close to you made her happier than she could have anticipated.

She knew that you thought that she didn't love you or, at the very least, that she had a very odd way of showing it. But that couldn't be further away from the truth.

“I'm glad to see you're getting along fine"

A smile spread through your face, and you visibly squeezed Seungcheol's waist. 

“We'll find our own pace, so you don't have to worry" 

The smile on your lips surprised Seungcheol yet again. The version of you standing in front of him in that very moment was so much different from the person he knew when he was a teenager.

You were never one to mask your feelings. Whatever you felt was on full display for everyone to see, and you seemed to care very little about what people thought of you. The only person who seemed to be able to say anything about you without you wanting to bite their head off was your brother. 

Seungcheol put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his side.

“We ignored each other for years and worried you guys, but now we’re together in this. Like y/n said, we’ll find our own pace” 

The wedding lasted longer than either of you could have predicted. You were told that you would be able to leave around midnight, but it was way past three when people started to get ready to leave. Both Seungcheol and you could no longer take it. It was hard to sit by his side, hold his hand and pretend that everything was completely fine.

The worst part was probably when they took you outside to get the couple's pictures. The photographer was only doing his job, you knew that, but that didn't mean that you enjoyed the entire situation.

“Can you guys kiss?” he asked.

You felt uncomfortable enough already as it was, with Seungcheol behind you, his arm around your waist, his cheek lightly pressing against the side of your head, as both of you smiled happily to the camera. Kissing him would just intensify the discomfort, cementing the reality that you would never be able to walk away. 

“Is that really necessary?” Seungcheol asked.

It wouldn't be the first time you kissed. Although you didn’t kiss him when the judge pronounced you officially married, after giving a beautiful speech about love and wishing you both a life filled with happiness and good memories,  Seungcheol had been your first kiss.

When you were sixteen all of your friends, including Seungcheol, thought that it was a good idea to play spin the bottle. You were all young and somewhat foolish at the time, and the game seemed like something teenagers did while drinking. You had managed to successfully dodge any questions that could lead to someone finding out about your lack of physical contact with the opposite sex, lying through your teeth. While you were almost scared, Seungcheol was having the time of his life. Not even once did he choose truth; he always wanted a dare.  

He always did things like that back then. While you were shy and tended to keep more to yourself and your small group of friends, Seungcheol was outgoing. When you were quiet he made sure to be extra loud. So if you chose truth he had to choose dare. 

Up until then, the dares had been minor, eat a package of chips in under one minute, drink two cans of soda without burping. Most dares were simple but not when Mila was the one giving out the dare.

You knew the moment the bottle landed on Seungcheol that his dare was going involve you, and he knew it too. It was in the look he gave you, like he was half apologizing and half saying screw you.

“Kiss y/n”

Most of the kids cheered you on, while others, mostly your friends, gasped. Everyone knew that you and Seungcheol didn't have the best relationship, that you were nearly at each other's throats whenever you were around but not Mila. She always said that you two were just faking it, and that most of your fights seemed staged to get attention from people.

What you could possibly get from that was something you were still trying to find out.

“Can’t you give me something more stupid? Like running naked outside?”

“Trust me, that'll happen. For now, I just want you to kiss her" 

Seungcheol looked at you and you blinked at him, pressing your lips together, it was your way of telling him that he could do it. You knew that if either of you said no, things would just escalate for the worse. Mila would never leave either of you alone and for the rest of the night, neither would your friends.

“Fine but I'm not kissing her with you all breathing down my neck”

He got out of his seat and pulled you up by the hand. He lead you to the kitchen and made you stand by the refrigerator.  Most of your body was hidden and your friends could only see half of Seungcheol's. 

You half expected him to not kiss you at all, or even make a whole show of pretending to kiss you. He did neither. If anything his actions surprised you.

Seungcheol ran his index finger across your forehead and down your cheek until his hand reached the back of your neck. He had a hint of a smile on his lips, lips which you couldn't stop looking at.

“Do I make you nervous, y/n?”

The answer was on your lips to be spoken but you never got the chance. Seungcheol pressed his lips on top of yours, lightly at first until he lost his patience and calmness and pressed harder. His entire body was against yours. 

You were young and Seungcheol was the first boy you ever kissed so you didn't have any experience, but he made you feel like you knew exactly what you were doing. It lasted only a minute but it made you dizzy, made you want to pull him closer to you and stay there. But the moment his lips pulled back, he was gone, away from your side and the party altogether.

After that, you both started to avoid each other to some extent. Your eyes would automatically try to look for him but he was never around again. You were glad for his absence. Kissing Seungcheol evoked feeling within you that you had no idea could even exist but at the same time, you disliked the idea that he was one doing it.

“Make sure you get this in camera because we're not doing it again”

You turned around so that you were facing him, your arms going around his waist. He was warm, so warm you almost to the point you wanted to hug him entirely. Having him so close to you again made you feel like you were that sixteen-year-old girl yet again, hiding behind the fridge, wondering what he was thinking. It was like a part of you that had been dormant for years was finally awake.

The thought made you take an instinctive step back. You didn't manage to go very far though. 

The second your body was no longer in contact with his, Seungcheol pulled you against him. His actions mirrored exactly what happened when you were a teenage girl, his fingers went down your cheeks until they reached your neck. You closed your eyes, anticipating the light pressure of his lips on top of yours but it never came. Instead of kissing your lips, Seungcheol kissed your forehead.

You couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Your mother had a master plan to make sure that you and Seungcheol would be together no matter what.

While the preparations for your wedding were being made, you took no part in it. Why should you when you were being forced into a relationship you didn't want to be part of? But once you walked inside the apartment you would have to share with Seungcheol, you regretted that decision. 

You should have made some decisions, especially when it came to housing arrangements.  Your mother, probably Seungcheol's too, decided to only furnish one bedroom. No, scratch that. You were moving in with Seungcheol and he had a fully furnished spare bedroom, or at least he did until both your mothers decided that you didn't need it.

“You can have the bedroom if you want," he said quietly.

His words surprised you. Seungcheol was never the kind of person to be nice for no reason, especially to you, so his sudden rush of kindness was something new. You weren't too sure if you liked it or how you should take it. 

“No, thank you” you shook your head “It's probably gross in there. The couch is fine”

Instead of a smart comeback, Seungcheol was in silence, just looking at you. You expected him to say something nasty, at the very least have him tell you fuck you but he did neither of those things. Seungcheol just sighed and turned around.

You sat on the couch, wedding dress still in place, looking at your new life. That was it. An apartment too big for just two people — much less one — and a husband you had a hard time being around. 

For most of your life, you had been a romantic, always expecting the love of your life to show up. Even after your parents told you about your inevitable marriage with Seungcheol, you still thought that you could make it. 

Being a silly teenage girl, you thought that if you found someone, someone who was really worth it, someone you could love freely without a single doubt, you could walk away from everything like your brother did. But you never, not even once, met someone like that. It's true that you always had your guard up. Why would you get involved with someone just to have your heart broken at the end of the line? It wasn't worth the trouble. However, no one ever made you even question your parents.

Seungcheol walked back into the living room a couple of minutes later with blankets and pillows in his hands, he sat them on the couch without looking at you. 

“You can use this until you find yourself a bed" he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck “They're not dirty, so don't worry about that”

That side of him, one that seemed unsure and maybe even a little bit shy was new to you. The Seungcheol you remembered, even the one who showed himself at the wedding, seemed completely in control of things but the one in front of you didn't look like it. Looking at Seungcheol you saw the boy his parents often mentioned while out for dinner with yours, he seemed shy.

“Thank you,” you said with a nod “Goodnight, Seungcheol"

By Monday morning everything went back to how you knew it. Seungcheol was back to being a jerk after you avoided each other for the rest of the weekend, and you were back to ignoring him. 

At night, you found him working in his office, he had glasses on and bit the end of a pen while reading a document in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

“Since when do you wear glasses?”

You didn't dare to walk inside, so you stopped at the door. You were afraid that he would bite your head off if you did walk in.

“I hope you are well aware of the fact that we won't go on a honeymoon" 

The way in which Seungcheol said those words almost made you take a step back. His voice was filled with spite and something that you could only describe as hatred. It was true that you and he had never seen eye to eye on things, that you always enjoyed battling a little but it was never like that. Never before have you thought that Seungcheol could really hate you.

“I never thought that we would,” you said quietly.

You couldn’t help but wonder where that version of him, from those few minutes in the living room, had gone. 

“That's good. You can go now, I'm busy”

He said all of that without even sparing you a glance. You never thought that you would be hurt by some of his actions but there you were, walking away from his office as if he had just kicked you in the ribs.

Avoiding Seungcheol was surprisingly easy, even though you both lived in the same house and you were currently out of a bedroom. Even though the spare bedroom still didn’t have a bed or a chair, you spent most of your days inside it reading or on your phone. Seungcheol was either inside his office or went to the firm.

The hard part was explaining to Yeda why you didn't go on a honeymoon — something that is expected of newlyweds. You walked in circles for minutes, trying to come up with a reason that was good enough, and in the end, you had none. Nothing came to mind. Sure, you could have asked Seungcheol what he was going to say to his friends and coworkers, if he was even going to say anything at all, so your stories could match up but you didn't dare to approach him after the way he talked to you. 

“Come on, be honest. I've known you long enough to know when you’re lying. Your whole ‘Seungcheol is busy at work’ crap won't work. Also, you don't look half as happy as someone who just got married is supposed to. In fact, you look a little depressed”

You weren't supposed to tell anyone, you were supposed to keep quiet and live your life by Seungcheol's side without anyone ever finding out the truth about your marriage. The two of you got married out of convenience for both sides of the family, sides that never once consulted your wishes and desires. But the words came out of your mouth before you could stop them, before you could think about what you were doing.

You talked for a long time, all while Yeda listened to you quietly.  She didn't try to stop you nor she asked questions while you were speaking. All she did was sit there in silence, sipping her coffee quietly while you talked like a radio that never stopped broadcasting.

“So you're saying that you got married to someone you don't love because it’s some sort of tradition in your family?”

It sounded stupid when it was put like that, but it was the truth. When your parents told you about your future wedding with Seungcheol your dad gave you a way out. He said that if you agreed to take over the company, if you went to college and studied to be an accountant just like him, then you were free to marry whoever you wanted — as long as the company was taken care of. 

For a tiny second, you thought about it. You could not work as a music teacher, you could work as anything else. Lots of people don't have their dream job, they don't work as something that they want but still manage to find happiness.  If other people could do it, then you surely could too. One look at your mother was enough to tell you that either way you would marry Seungcheol, though — even if you gave up everything and did as your dad wished.

“It's more complicated than that” you sighed.

When it came to you and your family, nothing was as easy as it seemed.

“You, my friend, are in some next-level shit"

When Seungcheol saw you walk inside the wedding venue, he was mesmerized. To him, you were always the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, even when you were angry at him for whatever crap he said again. But that day was incomparable. Was that how other people usually felt when seeing their bride walk down the aisle?

Seungcheol learned that he was going to be marrying you when he was only fifteen and you had just turned fourteen. He didn't know what it was supposed to mean, what the implications of him getting married would be. He only knew that he would never have to go through endless dates until he found the one that was meant to be with him.

In a way that made Seungcheol happy. How could it not? His parents were making his life easy, he thought. And then he met you, not the you your parents wanted the world to see but the real you. And he was so surprised to see that you were nothing like he had expected. 

Seungcheol knew your brother from school so he thought that you were going to be somehow similar to him. Oh, just how wrong he was. Your brother was quiet, moved through the motions without a care in the world and he seemed to be happy while doing it. And sure, you had that whole aura about you as well but the second your parents were out of sight, or once you found yourself in a comfortable environment you changed completely.

When only your friends were around, you were something else entirely, someone who Seungcheol liked to see. You became loud and cheerful, your laugh loud enough that people around your group of friends would turn around to see just who could be that loud. 

But Seungcheol couldn't get too close, he knew that he shouldn't. You were younger than him and still looked at him fondly, which meant that you had no idea about both of your parent's plans. And he had been warned off by your brother, who knew about his parents' plans.

When he left for college, he couldn't stay away for too long. Even when he didn't have to, even when he shouldn't because he had too much to do, he still found time to go back home. He stayed in between high school kids because it was the only way he would ever see you. If he went home and his parents went over to your house for a gathering, you always found a way, or better said an excuse, to do something else.

By the time you started college, Seungcheol saw the change in you. He knew that you were well aware of the fact that yes, you would be marrying him, but you chose to stay away so he decided that he too shouldn't care. But he couldn't bring himself to do that either.  

He kept an eye out for you, silently taking care of you without you ever knowing.  He never did anything unless he thought that things could get out of hand and you never really got into problems that you couldn't take care of yourself. You were quiet and never went out much and if you ever did was just to make sure your friends wouldn't drink and drive. 

He always remembered special dates, your birthday being the utmost important one of them all. Seungcheol would always leave a present at your door. The first time he did it was in your last year of high school. He didn't know what he should get you, had no idea of what you liked so he just got you the biggest teddy bear he could possibly find. It was funny to see your face when you opened the door to a white bear with the words take me, y/n on it’s front.

Not even after college was over, and the two of you were moving on your separate ways Seungcheol stopped. When he ran out of ideas he sent you flowers, more flowers than what you knew what to do with — more flowers than your tiny apartment could ever comport.

As the date of your wedding approached Seungcheol saw himself grow anxious and uncertain. He didn't know just how aware of things you were, if you had planned anything at all and what would be your reaction for what was yet to come. Imagine his surprise when he found out that you had no idea of what was going on, that you went to the venue without knowing what your dress looked like.

The look on your face told Seungcheol everything that he needed to know, you were sad. The amount of sadness, of hurt, there was in your eyes made Seungcheol want to take your hand and just take you from there. You looked beautiful and your smile was marvelous, making people who didn't know you that much, or just didn’t care, think that you were happy. But he knew better. Seungcheol knew you.

He intended to make it better, try to make it as bearable as he possibly could but he didn't do that. No, far from that. Seungcheol was a complete idiot, the biggest one he knew. The moment you tried to say something, the first thing you said to him out of your own will after years, his first instinct was to push you away. It was what he did for years.

The only way to get some kind of reaction from you was to push your buttons the right way, and the only way Seungcheol could do that was by picking on you. It was stupid, so incredibly childish, the worst possible way he could ever use to try and get closer to you. Seungcheol knew all of that but it was also the only thing he could do. The old him, the one who was too young to understand the magnitude of what getting married meant, used to think that the only way to get your attention was by being a complete idiot to you. Even now, when he knew for a fact that being mean would get him nowhere, Seungcheol didn’t know to act differently.  Because even years later, when both of you were no longer the two kids you once were, the only to get you to even look at him was by being rude. “I have no idea what you’re talking about” Seungcheol knew that he would get nowhere by lying to Seokmin, his friend was far too good at knowing when the people around him were lying. “You can correct me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t you be, at the very least, at home with your wife?” Rolling his eyes at his friend, Seungcheol sat back down on his chair and pretended to be looking at the files on his desk. His mind was anywhere but at his work. No, correct that. His mind was on you rather than on his work. He kept thinking that, despite his apparent lack of interest, you still told him where you were going and what you were doing. It's true that he did ask you if you needed a ride for work because Seungcheol knew that you hated driving, but you still made a point of letting him know. “I was given days off since I just got married,” you said to him.

In the quietness of his office, Seungcheol felt guilty. He should be at home with you, trying to figure things out, trying to come to an agreement on your relationship. Your marriage didn’t start the way you’d expect, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of marriage that starts simply out of love. Your relationship, if you could even call it that, wasn't anything like either of you had ever experienced. But the truth is that the two of you needed to find some common ground, needed for things to be clear, and boundaries needed to be created.

“You’re such a terrible liar. It’s a wonder how you are still a lawyer”

Trust Seokmin to be completely blunt and tell Seungcheol off the first chance he got. That was one of the many reasons why Seungcheol chose Seokmin as his right-hand. Despite the age difference, how he was the one who would one day run the office and was clearly above him in the hierarchy ladder, Seokmin was the kind of person he could trust. 

Seungcheol trusted him enough to tell him the truth about his marriage, about how he has been pinning over his wife since he was a teenager — granted that he slightly when he told Seokmin all of that, but he was only able to say those things because he trusted him that much.

“I regret hiring you every time you open your mouth” Seungcheol sighed.

“You would never fire me though. I’m your favorite, everyone here knows that”

Seungcheol sighed and looked up at Seokmin, his attention momentarily away from the case files.

“Do you have something to say? I have work to do, in case you haven’t noticed”

Seokmin shook his shoulders and turned to walk out of Seungcheol’s office. He was gone for two seconds before he popped his head back in, with a grin on his face.

“Go home, Seungcheol”

You were in sweats and a shirt most of the day, except for the few hours Yeda came by and took furniture shopping. 

On a normal occasion, you would have thrived on the news of a few days off. After all, it was something that you had been wanting to do for a very long time but in your mind, you would travel with Yeda, somewhere sunny and beachy. Yet you were stuck inside an apartment that wasn’t yours, without a bed, and with your stuff scattered on the floor of a bedroom that wasn’t yours either.

Telling your friend the truth about your life felt like getting a weight off of your shoulders. It didn’t cure anything, and it didn’t make anything better but it made you feel better, and for a while that would have to be enough. 

You kept thinking of ways to talk to Seungcheol, to try and reach a consensus with him on how things should move forward.  You were married now and that meant Seungcheol would be a constant in your life. At the very least, you should be able to trust him. 

Even so, trust was too much of a strong word, something that felt foreign even though he was someone who had been around you for most of your life. No, trust wasn’t it, at least for now it wasn’t what you needed. What was of vital importance were the rules — coexisting rules. After Yeda left, you sat down with a piece of paper and started to scribble down what you thought was necessary for the two of you to cohabit. It couldn’t be too much, nothing too out of the ordinary or crazy. Seungcheol, although he was a grown man who could and did support himself, could turn into a twelve-year-old that needed to be babied — or at least that’s how you remembered him. When he finally got home from work, you had already ordered pizza and were sitting on the couch watching the eight o’clock news. “Our first meal together as a married couple is pizza” he grunted as he sat down on the easy chair on the opposite side of you. You pushed the box towards him and leaned back on the couch. “If the pizza is any indication of how our marriage is going to be then I would say it will go pretty nicely” Because Seungcheol seemed stressed when he left in the morning, and if you were being honest all through the weekend as well, you decided that you would order his favorite pizza. If you were a little more domesticated then you could have probably cooked him something, try to make it even harder for him to be an asshole to you for a few hours. But cooking was never something you enjoyed or were good at, so the whole get a man by his stomach wasn’t going to happen with you two. 

You survived college only through packaged meals and fast food. You weren’t about to start cooking because of him. The only thing he could get from you was some takeout or order in, if that. “Are you suddenly optimistic about our marriage?” You shook your head and you gave him one of the contracts you wrote. “No, I have something to ask” He laughed as he took the sheet out of your hands. “That’s how it’s going to be now? You feed me and ask for something?” he put the paper on the table and went back to looking at you. “Isn’t that how most marriages go? I even got them to take off the pineapple from the pizza Not even half with the delicious pineapple. I really tried” It was hard for Seungcheol to keep a straight face. Yes, you were trying. If the roles were reversed and you had treated him the same way he did to you, he would not even look at you twice, much less would he try to talk to you.

“I'm in a good mood, so ask away”

“Can I use your office?”

Seungcheol looked at you, confusion all over his face. Out of all the things that you could have asked him that would be the last one in his mind.

“There's more stuff in here”

He didn't bother to read what you wrote, whatever your conditions were, he would comply. 

“Ah yes,” you ran your hands on top of your thighs cleaning them before turning around to face him “Since neither one of us wanted this, I thought that we should have some housing agreements. Number one is: you're in charge of food”

He knew how to cook, he wasn't good enough to make it to Master Chef but he wouldn't starve. He almost laughed remembering the day your mother went to his house to plan for the wedding. She said that you were perfect in all other ways but that Seungcheol should never let you get near the kitchen unless it was for takeout. I don't know what else to do, I teach her and she actually tries but she just can't.

“I can do the shopping but that's it” you looked at him, expecting him to fight back but all you got from him was a quiet agreed “Good. Number two and three: because you're cooking I'll do the cleaning but we will share doing laundry. I refused to get anywhere near your underwear, Number four: We will share the office. Although I like my bedroom and it's big enough to fit everything, thank you for that, I prefer to paint with natural light and it doesn't have much of that”

He nodded at that too. When Seungcheol moved to his apartment he chose it because his bedroom, as well as his office, had a nice view of the city but the spare bedroom faced other buildings in the same complex, so there wasn’t much sunlight. He didn't care much about that at the time since he was alone for a while. He was sure that when you finally got married, you would move to an actual house, he could remember you saying that was something you wanted. But since the marriage itself happened so quickly neither one of you had the time to look into it.

“Yeah, that's okay. Move stuff around as much as you want, I don't mind. Have you bought the furniture for your bedroom? I didn't think to buy anything because I didn’t know they would get the bed removed, I'm sorry. What about your instruments? I haven’t seen anything”

You almost shocked on your saliva. Never before had you heard Seungcheol apologize to someone and sound sincere while doing it. Every single time he said it before, it was pushed out between his teeth, his hands closed into fists. He hated to apologize more than anything in the world, even if he was completely wrong.

He is really trying.

And the fact that he remembered about your instruments, that he even thought to ask about them, made your heart do a little leap inside your chest. You wanted to press your hand over it, as if telling it to calm down

“I went today with Yeda, they'll probably bring the stuff tomorrow” you purposely didn’t mention your work.

“I don't think that sort of thing happens so fast”

You snorted turning the page in the contract. You were almost embarrassed by calling it a contract. He read actual contracts and official documents every day at his job, and whatever you wrote was probably like an insult to him. 

“It does when you pay extra”

A groan escaped your lips when you heard those words, hated saying them out loud. For all the three seconds that it took you to say them, you sounded just like your mother and that was not a comparison that you would like to be part of.

“Anyway, item number five: all of our extramarital activities should be done outside this apartment. This is our safe haven. Whatever happens, needs to stay outside”

It was something hard to say, something that felt bitter on your tongue, but what other choice did you have? Both of you were thrown into a marriage without love, a marriage that neither of you really wanted and yet were stuck with each other. 

Saying those words left a nasty taste in your mouth. Not once before, while imagining what it would be like to married to someone — married to Seungcheol —  you pictured yourself bluntly saying that he could be in a relationship with someone else, a person who wasn’t you. You’ve always known that Seungcheol had a few relationships before and you were okay with it. You weren’t anything to each other but a promise, and so you never expected him to be faithful in the first place. Even though he never said anything to you, even though you never saw those things happen right in front of your eyes, word always got out and found its way to you. It never really matter how badly you didn’t want to hear about it. Knowing those things made your heart drop as if it was no longer beating in your chest like it was supposed to. And you hated yourself for it. Why did you care? Why did it hurt to know about those things when Seungcheol didn’t mean anything? You were seventeen when you were told that you would be marrying Seungcheol and ever since you never really contemplated the idea of being with someone else. Not because you were in love with him but because you knew that he was the one who you would end up with no matter how you wanted it to happen. So why should you engage in a relationship when it was bound to end? In college, while all of your friends went to parties and did all the things that it was expected of college kids, you stayed back and did your best at school, thinking that you could enjoy your life later when the plan for your career was set in the right direction. But you never actually did enjoy anything. School was over and all you did was focus on your work. And Seungcheol was always in the back of your mind, quietly reminding you that no matter what you did, he was the one you would be with in the end. He wasn’t the one you wanted but he was the one you were stuck with. So why, just why, was it so painful to say that he could be with other people? Tentatively, you looked at him. His eyes were focused on the paper in his hands, running over the same sentence again and again, hoping that if he read just one more time, it would magically change. For a second, it was as if he wasn’t even breathing at all. “My own wife is telling me that she wants to date other men while saying me that I should date other women” his bitter laugh made your heart drop all over again, and the sight of him writing his name under all the things you listed made you want to throw up “Good night, y/n”

hi! thank you for reading! let me know if you want to be tagged once part two is out, you can either message me or send an ask

[innerthighfest]

A Normal Night In

After a late class and a long commute home, I finally reach the steps of my complex. Looking up at the landing one flight up, I gulp. Without looking down, I feel for the base of my massively pregnant belly. 

I had gone abroad for a semester and during my last week there I had a one night stand that resulted in me getting pregnant. Now, at just over 43 weeks, I shift my weight side to side up each step. "Ooohh..." I quietly moan, the underside of my pregnant belly needing as much support as it can get as I climb the stairs.

Once at the top I know it's not yet the end. So far the babies in my belly haven't been too disturbed, movement is felt but there is some hope I can at least make it to my door without stopping for a contraction.

Waddling down the hall, I press my now free hand against my back, forcing my belly forward and blocking most of my view of the floor. 

With a little satisfaction of making it through the day and finally into my apartment, I reward myself with a shower. The warm water relaxes my muscles as I close my eyes and let the water run over my expectant body. I rub a creamy soap lather all over naked belly.

When I used to brush my teeth I would stand with my face nearly cheek to the mirror, now I stand brushing a couple feet away, my abdomen swollen and protruding out, grazing the cold sink ahead of me. My shower steamed hands warming the lotion I smooth over my pregnant swell.

I throw on whatever clothes I can find, a white T-shirt that clings tight to my body, belly hanging out from the bottom, and the comfiest sweatpants I can manage to pull up. 

I walk past a wide full length mirror as I exit my bedroom. My belly full of babies is huge and incredibly round. Over 9 months pregnant I stand there, admiring my belly in the reflection. It's surreal. I'm a bit turned on. 

I relocate to the couch, a futon with no side arms. I use both hands to lower myself safely onto the cushions, a process that can only compare to an entire upper body workout. I adjust, my T-shirt slides up a bit higher revealing my sizeable baby belly more, still in view of my mirror, I take myself in. 

*Sigh*, I feel so relaxed. Being this pregnant is no easy feat, it's almost as if the mysterious man who impregnated me wasn't human at all given the sheer size of the babies making my belly throb. In a masochist way I enjoy the physical struggle of being this bred.

A couple hours pass and I start to get sleepy, but the babies inside me had other ideas. I aimlessly flip through channels in an attempt to distract myself, one hand on the remote, the other nursing a sore spot on my belly from a strong kick. 

"Hsssss ahh...ooouu, settle down..." I say softly, adjusting my small frame under the weight of my heavy, overdue belly, both hands now soothing the dull ache. "Haaaa...ohh... Ooo okay, okay, hooo..." I winch at the sharp pains low in my womb, the hand cradling the base of my huge belly moves instinctively in circles to soften the pain while the other supports my delicate body against the couch. My thin eyeglasses fogging slightly from the heat I am feeling.

I can almost swear I am seeing myself getting bigger. The television program partly obstructed behind my fullness as I feel a contraction rip through me. Arching my back forward I trail my hands down from my ribs to my groin. "Haa, haa, ooo, calm down." I mutter, breathless as my abdomen tightens.

I pull my sweats down, the waistband irritating the underside of my swollen midsection. My shirt rides up once more. "Ahhh...hsss" I throw my head back, the pressure in my cervix is dull and unbearable and yet I am aroused more and more with every orbit my hand completes around my swollen belly. 

This contraction is far from over, but during a lull in the pain I manage to engage the trigger on the futon, swiftly flattening it out into a bed. Adjusting, I spread my legs and lean forward, my weight on my calves and knees. Returning upright I begin to rub in large, slow circles.

I pant longingly to please myself through this contraction as I stare at myself lustfully, but I can barely get a solid grip on my throbbing, hard shaft. I begin swaying my hips back and forth against a strategically placed pillow. My arousal grows, my baby belly expanding with each deep breath in. "Hsss" my hands circle once more, "ooooo" "oh, oh wow, oooooooooo!" I groan as the contraction gets stronger, watching the skin on my belly twitch and tighten in the bedroom mirror as I sway, making me that much harder. The glow of the TV illuminating the lotion on my heavily pregnant belly making it look that much bigger in the mirror's reflection. 

Rocking my lower body in pleasure as much as I can, I feel nothing but a sore, dull ache from deep within, making me feel sick with pain. "Haaaa oooh, fuck!" it almost feels like my water is going to break. "oh oooohhh mmmmmm...okay...okay..." but it never does. I press hard against my sides then trail my hands down the under-curve of my belly. "Ha Haa, ooooooo...oh wow, wow, hssss..." my whole body cried to start pushing, my back about to snap in two from arching so far backwards, trying my best to lovingly soothe my aching pregnant belly as the wave of pain finally washes away.

 It's almost as if the babies inside me don't want to come out, my already heavily pregnant belly will continue to grow and I won't fully reach orgasm until I finally give birth. I am being teased. What did I do to deserve such a lasting reward from a one night stand? I think to myself as I manage to get to my feet, exhausted, yearning for sleep.

Making my way closer to the lengthy mirror I am impressed by the sheer size of myself, all babies within still moving subtly under my skins surface. I turn to the side to close my door and notice that i have indeed become more pregnant than before. Maybe those werent contractions at all, but rather growing pains. I may get to enjoy this for a while longer, but I can feel the end is near as I notice my heavy baby belly has dropped ever so slightly. I get cozied in bed, my hardness never subsiding as I stroke my continuously maturing belly goodnight.

Just another normal night in.

[wildsupernova]

too sweet.

summary: she was too sweet for him, everybody knew that. still, he couldn’t stay away, and neither could she, even when the sugar made his head spin and the bitterness burned her throat.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

warnings: brief mentions of sexual content, nothing too serious really

word count: 900

a/n: hey! just wanted get something up while i work on some longer pieces. i’m currently finishing up my second semester of my second year of college, so i haven’t had time or energy to write much of anything lately. figured i’d write a little blurb when i got the time to keep the content coming for you guys. anyway, hope you enjoy! hopefully new longer content will be coming soon. if you enjoy, leave a like, reblog, or a comment, whatever, any little bit of engagement helps. :)

masterlist | prompts list

She was too good for Steve, everyone knew that. She was a delicate, well groomed rose bush and he was the patch of weeds that grew in her planter box, stealing every last bit of water from her until her leaves turned brown and fell from her stem. He wasn’t someone a girl like her should ever be associating with, but something kept him coming back to her, and her to him. 

They didn’t speak in school, sharing stolen glances from across the hall, soft stares that turned desperate when they were filled with memories of two nights ago. To Steve’s friends, she was nothing more than a conquest, and to hers he was nothing more than a walking red warning sign telling her to run the other way. To each other, they were something they couldn’t quite name, unsure if it was love or boredom or something else entirely. But boredom wouldn’t have you running back to someone like this, wouldn’t have you lying awake thinking about them and your heart racing every time you shared a glance. 

He was the type to fall asleep when the sky was dark and wake long after the birds had already started singing, and she never crawled in or out of bed any later than the sun. He’d tried to see her once, crawl through her window after every streetlight had flickered on, but she hadn’t answered his taps on her window, duvet blocking out any sound that might disturb her early sleep. Two mornings later and he’s woken from his own sleep by the ringing of his phone, her sweet voice begging him to watch the sunrise with her at Lovers Lake. He had complained and told her it was far too early, but when she told him she got up that early everyday he simply laughed and grabbed his keys from the bedside table.

He asked her once if she’d ever thought about sleeping in, or staying out late to watch the stars around a bonfire. She’d shook her head, told him routine was what she needed, that she could get the most out of her day if she went to bed early, but that same night she’d made it back home long after the moon took its place in the sky, hair frizzy and skirt twisted sideways. 

She reminded him of when he’d drank a Screwdriver for the first time, far too sweet for him to handle without his head spinning, but giving him enough of a buzz that he couldn’t stop sipping it. He reminded her of the single sip of her father’s whiskey spiked coffee, the kind that turned her tongue bitter and burned her throat on the way down, but had her heart racing all the same. 

He always laughed at the way she’d scold him for his dirty mouth. He didn’t think he’d ever heard a single ‘bad word’ come out of her, and everytime one came out of him, she was quick to smack him on the shoulder and tell him off like a mother. She kept her body guarded, rarely letting his hands wander too far until it was two hours later and she was desperate for them to be anywhere else but on her face. He started to wake up earlier just to hear the birds sing about her. 

He started seeing her in everything. In the rainy days where the sun was still in the sky, the soft patter of raindrops hitting his window sounding more and more like her laugh every time. He saw her in the wisteria vines that climbed the trellis in his mother’s garden, in the sip of wine he stole from his mother’s glass. He told himself he could wait a few years until he didn’t burn so much, until he became a better man who could handle how sweet she was. She told him she didn’t mind the burn, didn’t mind the bitterness, but if he wanted to wait until he was smoother for her, she could do that. She could wait.

2 years later and she's still just as sweet, smooth like an aged bottle of wine but with that small bitter hint you don’t really notice until you’re two glasses in. He’s smoother, like the shot of bourbon sitting next to her on her kitchen counter, but he still burns just enough for her to recognize him. She downs the amber in the glass and tells him she can handle the burn, and he tells her that sweet still makes his head spin, even after all this time.

Suddenly he’s the one waking before the sun, slaving away over an oven and a glass of wine left out from the night before, birds singing the same song they used to years ago. He’s in bed by sunset because she’d pulled him to the bedroom by the arm, lips lingering on his skin in the same way he used to linger on hers. He finds himself watching his language and she lets a few dirty words slip now and then, and her hands move his lower when she gets tired of them on her waist. He still sees her in the rain and the roses outside of his apartment, down to the small thorns hidden just beneath the beautiful crimson petals. She sees him in the thunder storms and the dandelions, beautiful and dangerous all the same. 

Suddenly, Screwdrivers aren’t too sweet for him anymore, and whiskey doesn’t burn her throat quite like it used to.

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 16 Prompt: Library & Curious a/n: This one might be my favorite one I've written yet! It's set at the start of season 2! read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Edde Month series

Eddie’s well aware there are a lot of stupid classes that Hawkins High requires its student body to take. Algebra (there’s no reason for the alphabet and numbers to mix, except in very rare cases, like D20 type cases), Physics (what more do they need to know beyond what goes up, must come down), French (as if anyone from Bumfuck, Indiana could afford to go to France — okay maybe some can, but Eddie’s certainly not one of them that’s for damn sure), goddamn Physical Education (only way he’s running is if someone is chasing him, thank you very much). But the stupidest class of all has to be Study Hall.

An entire class dedicated to doing work for other classes? What kind of idiot dreamed this one up? Instead of letting them out an hour early, some guy, probably in a suit because all bad ideas come from guys in suits, decided to hold them hostage to do more work. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention, it’s one of the few times, outside of lunch, that the grades get to mingle with each other. Sure, lots of studying goes on in between freshmen drooling over seniors and sophomores paying juniors for last year’s test answers.

The only time Eddie actually liked study hall was during his sophomore year when he had it first period and could do all the homework he neglected to do the night before. It’s the only time it actually made sense. And the only time, thus far in his high school career, that Eddie actually turned in more assignments than not.

But now, he’s a senior stuck with study hall as his last class of the day, and he wants to die. Okay, maybe not die die. But die in the sense that he’d rather risk bodily harm escaping the hellscape that is the Hawkins library during 6th-period study hall than sit here. His freedom is so close — nothing but a few windows and a brick wall separating him from the brisk late-October air. Eddie can’t risk it, though. He’s already reached his detention quote for the semester, and if he wants to keep using the drama room for Hellfire meetings, he has to sit in this damn library seat and at least pretend to get some work done.

Which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing in the world. At least it gives him time to work on his latest Hellfire campaign without the prying eyes of Jeff and Gareth or the unnecessary questions from Freak. Sure, he’s supposed to be working on an essay for English Lit, but he doesn’t think Ms. Washington is going to appreciate his take on Frankenstein, so he’ll worry about coming up with a dumbed-down idea another day.

Besides, even focusing on his new campaign is hard enough with the idle chatter going on that the librarian is either pretending not to hear or is too tired of shushing them for.

It’s the usual sort of study hall gossip. Who’s screwing who. What teacher is going to pull a pop quiz tomorrow and become the biggest asshole at Hawkins High. The occasional nervous whispers of the geeks actually studying.

It’s all mindless chatter that drifts into the background when the topic of Tina’s Halloween Bash comes up. That’s the real gossip of the night. Who got the keg, and what other alcohol is being provided? Who is going to be the best dressed? What couple is going to get caught screwing in Tina’s parent’s bed? Are there going to be any good fights or breakups?

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jesus H. Christ, can’t anybody be original around here?

Unfortunately for Eddie, there’s no escaping Tina’s Halloween Bash since he’s been summoned to provide some extra party favors, as the “cool” kids like to call them. Eddie, never one to back down from being a thorn in a “cool” kid’s side, always responds with the same spiel: “Drugs. What you want is drugs, right? Or should I go raid Melvald’s for you?”

Whatever. Money is money, and Eddie can take all the money he can get his grubby hands on if he wants to get out of this shit-hole town when he graduates in June.

Glancing at his watch, he tips his head back in a silent groan of annoyance. Only ten minutes have passed since he slunk into the uncomfortable library seat. Christ, why does time move so slow, sometimes? Eddie tries to focus on his Hellfire notes in front of him, and he’s successful for all of thirty seconds before something catches his attention in the corner of his eye.

Nancy Wheeler and the former Hawkins High King, Steve Harrington, are whispering to each other by the pencil sharpener. He rolls his eyes. Of course, no one else in the library is paying them any mind. And why would they? Harrington fell from grace last year, and Wheeler isn’t exactly the “look at me” type. Still, Eddie finds them morbidly interesting in a way he finds all the tragic heterosexual couples in this stupid small town interesting.

Before Eddie has a chance to fall deeper into his cynical outlook on this stupid Hawkins High couple, Wheeler starts tugging Harrington toward the private study room in the back of the library. It’s a move that shocks Eddie to his core. Don’t get him wrong, he’s heard all bout Harrington’s little trysts in that very room over the years (thank you gossip mill for the very cheap porn), but he never would have assumed Wheeler would be the one tugging him toward it.

It’s that detour from who she’s supposed to be that has Eddie peeling himself off his chair.  At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saunters toward the stack of books in the back of the library closest to the private room. If he hears moaning or anything remotely sounding like they’re hooking up, he promises himself he’ll leave. He’s a freak in many ways, but a creep, he is not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie can see the two of them in the small room. They’re close but not close enough to be doing anything beyond talking. From the look on her face, doing anything of that sort isn’t even on her mind.

Interesting.

Eddie creeps closer.

“Barbara. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.”

“Nance—“

Wheeler rants about something, but he misses most of it. Only catching the very end.

“It’s destroying them.”

No shit, Eddie thinks with another dramatic eye roll. Of course, losing their only daughter is destroying them. The Hollands are one of the few families around here that actually have a heart. At least they did before Barbara tore it from them by running away. Or so the story goes. Eddie’s always been a bit suspicious of Holland’s disappearance. He knows the runaway type, and a straight-A girl, with a well-off family who loves them like Holland had doesn’t fit the bill.

“I know. Okay? I get it,” Harrington says, glancing away from Wheeler to peer out the window. Eddie grabs the first book on the shelf and buries his face in it. It must fool Steve because he starts talking again. “But listen, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yeah, we could tell them the truth.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He trails off again, and Eddie reaches for another book.

Eyes peering over the pages, Eddie watches as he shuts the blinds before presumably returning to Wheeler. With the blinds shut and their voices even lower, he can no longer hear what they’re talking about. Which is a damn shame because Eddie’s never been more curious about what the disgraced King was about to say than right now. 

+ + +

“M’telling you guys. It was weird,” Eddie says through a mouthful of Doritos.

They’re hanging out in Gareth’s garage. Jeff sits in the old recliner while Gareth stays perched behind his drum kit. Freak is running late, as usual, though Eddie’s not too pressed about it today. Too distracted filling the boys in on what he overheard in the library.

“I don’t know man; it sounds like she was just concerned about her best friend,” Gareth says, lightly tapping his drumsticks on his snare.

“Yeah, those two were inseparable, remember.”

“All the more reason why it’s weird she’s been mopping around lately. Obviously, she knows where Holland is. Or what happened to her.”

“Not this again,” Jeff groans, sinking further into the recliner.

“Yes, this again,” Eddie retorts, throwing Jeff an intense glare. “This town is weird as shit. If the Byers kid can come back from the dead—“

“I thought they proved it wasn’t actually Byers they found in the quarry,” The Freak says, finally joining them in the garage. 

“They did, but Eddie still thinks—“

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, taking a moment to throw a Dorito at all of their heads. “Let me level with you for a second, okay? Yeah, sure, they said that kid wasn’t Byers, but they never said whose kid it was, which is weird. And then right after that, they “find” Holland’s car? It’s too coincidental, man. You know a story isn’t right when it’s too easy.”

“This isn’t one of our campaigns,” Gareth sighs. “Sometimes things really are just accidental coincidences.”

Eddie shakes his head, running his Dorito-stained fingers over his face. “Nah, man, m’not buying it this time. Harrington and Wheeler know what really happened to Holland. And I think they’re responsible for it.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. “You think they made her disappear or something.”

“Maybe Harrington got Holland knocked up, and his family gave her money to leave.”

“See!” Eddie shouts, slapping his hands together as he jumps on the balls of his feet. “Freak gets it! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Okay, but if Harrington knocked Wheeler’s best friend up, why would she still be dating him?” Jeff asks.

“And why would they both be hiding her from her parents?” Gareth adds.

Okay, so maybe these are valid questions, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate the doubts they’re throwing at him. “I don’t appreciate you doubting me,” he says plainly. “You’ll see. M’gonna figure this out.”

“Right, just like you figured out that Ms. O’Donnell was actually failing you for a reason and not because she had some vendetta against Wayne for not dating her.”

“Hey. That was a good theory, okay. One I still think is true, by the way.” Turning his back on the boys, Eddie crosses the room and tosses the empty bag of Doritos into the trash bin before heading towards his badly parked van.

“I thought we were practicing!” Gareth shouts after him.

“Just let him go,” Jeff sighs. “He’s impossible to work with when he’s in conspiracy theory mode.”

Eddie flips Jeff off, climbing into the van. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

+ + +

Eddie’s been at Tina’s party for an entire hour and a half, and there’s still no sign of Harrington or Wheeler. Not that he’s actively searching them out, of course. He’s just had some downtime in between upselling Hagan for the world’s shittiest pot he could get his hands on, and explaining to some cheerleader how Special K hits differently if you snort it. Plus, his supply ran out about ten minutes ago, so he’s just buying time before someone notices him lingering and kicks his ass to the curb.

He’s about to save himself and whatever jock gets thrown his way the trouble, when he spots Harrington and Wheeler arguing by the punch bowl. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he has a sneaking suspicion it has less to do with the conversation he heard in the library and more to do with Wheeler’s drunken state. Case in point: the red liquid she just spilled all over her blouse.

Chasing after her, Harrington cuts through the crowd and makes his way toward one of the bathrooms. Eddie waits a minute before following them down the crowded hallway. Thankfully, no one is in line for this bathroom — still too early in the night for the alcohol to have hit their bladders — so he’s first in the unofficial bathroom line. Leaning casually against the wall, Eddie angles his ear closer to the door so he can hear inside.

It takes a minute for his ears to tune out the music and nonsense chatter, but when they do, he can clearly hear Wheeler slurring her words.

“You’re pretending like everything’s okay. You know, like we didn’t… like we didn’t kill Barb.”

Eddie’s never experienced shock before, at least, he doesn’t think he has; the early days of his life are a little hazy around the edges, but that’s the only word he thinks fits what he’s experiencing right now. Part of him wants to shove his ear closer to the door to continue listing, while the other part of him wants to run for the hills, screaming in victory. And if he’s straight with himself, maybe screaming in fear a little, too. Harrington and Wheeler murderers? Who knew?

He knew, that’s who!

He knew there was something shady going on between those two.

Pressing his ear closer, he can hear Wheeler slurring more words, though he’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. Honestly, he doesn’t really care what she’s saying. He’s listening for Harrington’s response right now. What does the mighty King have to say about the bomb she’s just dropped?

“This is bullshit,” she slurs.

“Like we’re in love?” Steve asks.

Huh, clearly, Eddie missed a step or two in his shocked state.  He’s not exactly sure how the conversation strayed from them killing Holland to their, clearly, toxic relationship, but the fact it did is all the proof Eddie needs. If they didn’t kill her, Harrington would have been vehemently denying her claim. And yet, he sounds like a kicked puppy dog right now because she doesn’t love him.

Join the club, Harrington.

The doorknob starts to jiggle, and Eddie bolts. It’s not that he’s afraid about coming face-to-face with the two who apparently killed Holland. It’s just that, well, he needs a minute to think about the information he’s just learned.

+ + +

With Gareth and Freak both busy supervising their siblings around Hawkins and Jeff on candy duty for his family’s house, Eddie has no one to share the good bad news with. RIP Holland and all that, but he’s sitting on some serious dirt right now.

The good part of Eddie’s brain knows he should head straight for the police station. Pull good ole’ Chief Hopper aside and gloat about how he did his job for him. But Eddie’s spent enough time at the stuffy station to know no one is going to believe him especially not against Harrington and Wheeler. He’d have better luck marching in there and turning himself in for her murder. Not that he’s going to do that.

He supposes he could tell Wayne about it, but he doesn’t need to be dragging his uncle into any more of his messes. And since Eddie has no proof beyond overhearing a drunken confession, a mess it’ll surely turn into.

So, he opts for the third option and heads out to Skull Rock to do some thinking.

Maybe Freak is right, and it was some sort of jealous rage brought on by a Holland-Harrington pregnancy. Or maybe Holland saw something she shouldn’t have; the possibilities are endless, and Eddie’s imagination is limitless.

Eventually, he circles back to what he’s supposed to do with this information. Should he turn them in? Maybe not Wheeler; she seems like she’s experienced enough guilt as it and the girl has a bright future or whatever it is the teachers are always talking about. Harrington, though? Harrington, he should turn in, right? I mean, he didn’t even seem phased when Wheeler brought up the murder. Eddie’s watched enough horror movies to know that’s psychopath behavior right there. Besides, it would be nice to see the King behind bars. But then again, he hasn’t been the King in a while. And Harrington’s never really done anything to Eddie beyond standing idle while Hagan threw slurs at him. But he’s not hanging out with Hagan anymore, so maybe he should cut him some slack.

Though they did murder someone.

Jesus H. Christ.

Maybe this is why they say curiosity killed the cat — Eddie’s head is throbbing. He’s about to take another hit from his joint when he hears leaves crunching in the distance.

Shit.

Someone’s coming.

Snubbing out his joint against the rock, Eddie tries his best to make it seem like he’s just here, escaping the busy Halloween night. Which, like, he definitely is, but he can’t be too safe. Especially not when there are two teenage murderers on the loose.

“She thinks m’bullshit? She’s bullshit! Bullshit.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jesus H. Christ could tonight get any weirder.

Eddie’s only escape is to run deeper into the forest, and he’s not about to do that so he makes himself comfortable on top of Skull Rock like a fucking sitting duck. Searching the pockets of his vest, he yanks out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Neither of which he was looking for. Of course, he left his pocket knife in his van. Stupid. So stupid!

There’s a moment of silence before Harrington emerges from the clearing. The moon is bright above them, making Steve’s tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes glow in the otherwise dark forest.

Maybe he is feeling guilty after all.

“Ah, fuck,” Harrington groans, stumbling to the ground.

Eddie watches as he rolls around for a moment, struggling to find his footing. If Eddie were a mean person, he might let Harrington suffer. But something about his behavior reminds him of a wounded animal, and Eddie’s always had a soft spot for bruised and broken things.

“Shit, Harrington, you okay?” Eddie asks, jumping down.

Eddie’s boots crunch against the leaves, startling Harrington. He manages to pull himself into a seated position and brandishes a near empty beer bottle in Eddie’s direction. “Stay back!”

“Woah, man,” Eddie yelps, hands raised in surrender in front of him. “Don’t kill me.”

“Oh, s’you,” Steve says, slumping against the tree behind him. He tosses the beer bottle aside and runs both his hands over his face. “Jesus. Why does everyone think I would kill s-someone?”

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, glancing around. Now’s his chance to make a break for it. Put those hours of physical education to good use and sprint to the van before Harrington has a chance to make him his next victim. But there’s something in Steve’s sad eyes and dejected voice that makes Eddie stay. “‘Cause you have killed someone before?”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Harrington snaps, fumbling to get out of his jacket. “I’ve n-never killed anyone.”

“So, you didn’t kill Barbara Holland, then?”

“No! Jesus, ‘course not. Barb was… Barb was nice. She was good. Like Nance. Better than Nance, maybe. I don’t know,” Harrington whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Barb she’s… yeah, man, she’s dead. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. N-not in the way you think I did, at least.”

Harrington’s not making a lot of sense, which only spurs Eddie’s curiosity on more. Closing the distance between them, Eddie hops to a squat in front of him. “But you did have something to do with what happened to her?”

“Shit, man,” Harrington groans, words slurring more more. “S’complicated, okay. I can’t talk about it with you or her parents or anyone. Or else they’ll come for me or Nance or our families and then we’ll all be toast like Barb. And that… that thing that came out of the Byers’ wall.”

Complicated? Jesus H. Christ, Eddie’s never heard anything more complicated than the jumble of words that just left Harrington’s mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the realization that they’re alone in the woods talking about something someone doesn’t want Harrington talking about.

“What?” Eddie says more to himself than to Steve. “Harrington, what thing in the Byers wall? You’re not making any sense!”

“The thing. You know, the… the,” Steve hiccups. “The thing we can’t talk ‘bout, else they’ll come for us next.”

Someone will come for him and his family if he reveals what happened to Barb? And the thing in the Byers wall? He wants to ask who would come. What would happen? Is he being blackmailed? There are so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none of them win the war.

“Harrington, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Are you in trouble? Do you, like, need help or something?”

Finally, freeing himself from his jacket, Harrington lifts his head and looks up. There’s a moment where Eddie’s life flashes before his eyes, but then the sad replay of his life is interrupted by Harrington’s hand on his cheek. A dopey-looking grin on his face as he squints up at Eddie.

“You have pretty eyes, M-m-munson. Anyone ever tell you that?” Steve slurs before promptly passing out against the tree.

What the hell has Eddie gotten himself into?

[general--winter]

May I please request headcanons for Naoto, Yu, and Kanji reacting to their S/O having anger issues and snapping when a bully goes too far?

author's note: So, hi y'all! i've had quite a year, i'll make a post later. I wanted to clear out the one or two things I had already finished in my WIP folder, though, so this is my return for now.

rating: teen

fandom: persona 4

pairing: shirogane naoto x gn!reader, narukami yu x gn!reader, tatsumi kanji x gn!reader

word count: 1336

summary: you stand up to your bullies! wish i was this brave when i was in high school and college LOL

Naoto Shirogane

For months, Naoto has heard story upon story about how you have been putting up with crap from a group of people in your club. It’s all endless, from how they give you backhanded compliments about your skills to them “accidentally” giving you the broken equipment and watching you fail over and over again for their amusement.

Honestly, you weren’t even aware of half of the incidents being their fault, Naoto had to be the one to sneak into your club room to investigate and find that your stuff was being tampered with in the first place. She absolutely hated breaking the news to you, but she knew she had to tell you the truth. What wasn’t expected, however, was the pure rage that shot through your eyes. Naoto thought there might be sadness, maybe even tears if you were particularly emotionally vulnerable at that moment, but this was so unlike you. “Let me handle it,” is what you told her. She kept her eyes on you from then on.

Which is exactly why she caught the beginning of the incident the next day over lunch. A leader of your club struck up a conversation with you at your desk, and Naoto immediately noticed you were snippy with them. It wasn’t until they dealt a snide comment, however, that you slammed your hands on your desk, sending your empty bento flying to the floor and catching the attention of every student in the room.

What came out of your mouth next could be described by Naoto as… needlessly vulgar. You tore into the leader, listing off bullying incident after incident in cruel detail, as well as what it said about the leader and their deepest insecurities that they actually did those things. It wasn’t for a few moments until Naoto realized that she had helped you put that list together (...sans emotional damage, of course) herself if you ever decided you wanted to go to the principal with the information. Oh, dear, she would think. I really should put a stop to this.

While you were in the process of tearing the club member down with a snide smirk, talking about how “their efforts will only set their own club performance and university admissions back” and “if they wanted attention so badly, well now they’ve got it undivided from the entire room”, Naoto took a hold of your wrist and dragged you out of the room, gently sliding the door shut.

Your breathing haggard from anxiety, she would drag you to a barren corner and tentatively hug you for a long time before pulling back and placing her hands on your shoulders, suggesting with a sigh: “I’m proud of you for sticking up for yourself, but next time do not use my data for your vigilante justice? Please?”

Yu Narukami

The last week of school was rough for everyone, but particularly you. On top of winter semester finals, you had to deal with a… let’s say, cast of characters that leeched on to whatever insecurity you radiated and made it as much of their problem as it was yours. Underhanded compliments, disguising random rude gifts as acts of kindness… Yu especially hated it when they played you into thinking they were your close friends. Couldn’t you see that the Investigation Team was more supportive of you than they could ever be? Couldn’t you see that he was trying his best to lift you up when all they wanted to do was bring you down?

But Yu isn’t about forcing people into their decisions. As much as he has a soft spot for you, he’s going to let you figure this one out yourself, of course with his own support. More times than he could count, Yu listened to your suspicions with an open ear and a sympathetic face, always reminding you of your positive traits. It was the only thing he could think of that would help, but your sorrow turned to anger slowly. Almost too slow for him to notice.

He’ll be clued in real quickly, though, when he sees you flinging a tray of “food” at a group of people crowded around you on the school roof. He’ll be shocked - Yu’s never seen you get violent with anything but Shadows. He seriously thought you didn’t have a mean bone in your body. However, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride for his partner standing up for themselves. Maybe, you could hold back on the string of curses that flow from your mouth, though!

After this event, when the bullies run off covered in whatever mystery substance they had placed in your lunch box, Yu is there to sit beside you as the weight of your actions hit you.

“I… I just threw that shit at them,” you murmured to yourself, barely registering Yu’s presence beside you.

“You stood up for yourself, he clarified, just sitting down to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “I’m proud of you.”

Kanji Tatsumi

Kanji has always wanted to handle the problem himself. Every time he finds you upset or you have yet another problem with a bully, he’s ready to throw his weight around to close their mouths for you. You always refuse though, with a level of grace that sends Kanji into a fit that he has to tamper down. He wished he could take away every single problem in your life, but he trusted you to do it in the way that was best for you. However, that smile on your face was always there when everyone shit on you. Gleaming, wide, mistakenly joyous. But it never reached your eyes. It wasn’t even like Kanji’s own situation. He chose to look and dress and act the way he does. But you were being bullied for something you couldn’t control. It drove him, for lack of a better term, damn crazy. Which is why he was giddy when he caught the scene in front of Yasogami after school that day.

A circle of students were gasping and egging on some sort of event happening in the middle. With his shoulder, Kanji easily wedged into the inner ring, though he seriously couldn’t believe what he was looking at when he got there. You were hammering your knee into the stomach of the ringleader of the group of bullies, propping up their body with a fist in their uniform collar to take more blows. In between the crowd's noises, you cried out, "This is what you get for every. Single. Terrible. Hurtful. Word!" Before he could think anything, he was pulling you off of the bully, arms hooked under your shoulders, feet dragging against the concrete and asphalt as Kanji once again split the crowd. This time, it was his mere presence that had people parting easier than Yaso-Inaba's fields of wild grass in a storm's wind.

You didn't struggle against him at all, your limbs just went limp while Kanji carry-dragged you down the pathway to the Samegawa Floodplain. Kanji was proud of you for standing up for yourself. That was the first thing he told you after he sat you on top of his jacket on one of the walkway's benches, misted from the afternoon rain sputter.

Despite his words, your thoughts swirled. What had you just done? You never thought of yourself as the type of person to just… snap in public like that, but it happened. The lid on your ugly thoughts and feelings came undone, and you'd let them loose. Kanji settled next to you, placing an incredibly stiff arm across your shoulders as you shoved your face into your hands. "I know I'm not—shit… the best person to be lecturin' on this, but," he started, his voice gruff and unsteady, "you stood up for yourself, right? Maybe starting a walloping like that in the school yard might not have been your best moment, but, what I'm trying to say is, y-you did good. In my book, at least." 

[musicloverxoxo7]

Professor Kim’s Teaching assistant

Professor!Namjoon   x   fem!reader

Summary: You feel drawn to the new professor like to nobody else. Does he reciprocate that feeling? How far will you take it?

Themes/warnings: smut with a bit of plot at the beginning, age difference (reader is Master student, so ca 5 years), hand job, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, y/n has mild dom tendencies, tied up hands, nipple play

Wordcount: ca. 3300 words

Disclaimer: 18+, DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

I do not own BTS. They merely inspire me. None of this is related to their persons in real life.

“I want to use the last 5 minutes to discuss the topic that will occupy next lesson. Greek mythology in Harry Potter.”

When this new course opened the previous semester, you’d been dying to get a space. Which you finally did the second time around. But now that you’re sitting in Professor Kim’s course, you are bored. Either you know too much about literature or your minds are too alike. You already know almost all the stuff he talks about, while everyone else is in awe at his creative angles.

You raise your hand. Professor Kim looks around. Since none of the other 15 students want to say anything, he gets back to you with a sigh.

“Go ahead, Ms y/l/n.”

It’s almost always a conversation between just the two of you. It has been like that the entire semester.

“For one, there are all the beasts and magical creatures that J.K. Rowling involved in her magical universe. Things like the chimera, centaurs, Cerberus. Aside from that we also have characters in the book named after actual mythological beings, not just Greek, but also Roman.”

“That is correct. Could you give an example? Greek or Roman.”

“Take Remus Lupin for example. Roman legends say that Romulus and Remus were twins that were tasked with building a city. The short version is that Romulus got to build it and named it after himself, of course. Mythology says that they were raised by a she-wolf. I consider this fact of importance, since Remus Lupin is a werewolf.”

“Accurate. Everyone, until next week, if you haven’t done so yet, please read Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone. Ms y/l/n, my office, please.”

You file out of the classroom with the other students and head to Professor Kim’s office. You have no idea why he’d want to talk to you. He’s never asked you to his office before.

Professor Kim appears a minute after you, his glasses askew and his hair a slight mess. Same as usual.

You smile just a tiny bit. You’d definitely straighten out those glasses. But you’d definitely leave the messy hair be.

“Please, Ms y/l/n, come in. Would you like something to drink? I have tea, coffee or water.”

You sit down at the corner of his desk as he makes himself a cup of coffee.

“I’m good, thank you. Why am I here?”

He waits until the coffee machine is done, then leans against the cupboard on which it stands. His pecks are on display like that, and you give yourself a second to admire them.

“I want to discuss your future. You are exceptional in the field I teach.”

“I just like reading a lot and finding out what could have been behind it.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Have you considered doing a PhD and becoming a professor?”

“Maybe.”  

“You don’t have to share with me, y/n, if you don’t want to. I merely wanted to offer you my assistance, in case you’d like it.”

Maybe it is because he’s trying so hard. Maybe because this is the first time he has called you by your first name.

“I did consider it for a while. But I had a professor last semester who said they’d do whatever it takes so I don’t get in anywhere as a PhD student.”

“What?”

Professor Kim moves so abruptly that he spills coffee all over his chest. Thanks to your long talk it’s only warm anymore, but he still curses. He puts the cup aside. It gives you a full frontal of his chest, including dark nipples that strain against the fabric.

You jump into action helping him clean up, because otherwise you might do something stupid. Something stupid like burying your face in his chest.

“Take it off.”

“It’s beyond saving. I never get coffee out.”

“Take it off. I’ll do it.”

He doesn’t even turn away to unbutton the shirt. When he tugs the rest of the shirt out of his pants to get the last 2 buttons, you have to cling to your composure very tightly. He hands you the shirt and you put it in the tiny sink in his office.

With the cold water and the immediacy of your reaction, the stain is out in next to no time.

“Et voila.”

You hold up the dripping shirt. No stain left on the light blue fabric. Your smile wavers when you see that Professor Kim is still standing there shirtless. His caramel skin looks like it is supposed to be savored slowly and explored extensively.

“Was it Lim?”

“Huh?”

“Did Professor Lim tell you those terrible things?”

“Oh, well…”

“Y/n!”

“Okay, yes, he did.”

Professor Kim sighs deeply. He straightens out his glasses and walks over to his desk.

“He hates women that are smarter than him. Especially if they are also beautiful. He’s an insecure pig. Time for some measures.”

“What? No!”

You are at the desk with 2 quick steps, your hand on Professor Kim’s upper arm. He looks up slowly from what he was writing, his eyes not focused on your hand but on your eyes.

“Y/n, if you want to go to university for a PhD, I will help you.”

“Okay, then help me. But please, let’s try to keep Professor Lim out of this for as long as possible. He won’t be able to do anything if he finds out last minute.”

Professor Kim straightens up and you finally let go of his arm. You’re a little sad, because it felt very nice. Strong and warm.

“How about you become my TA in the meantime, for your last semester here? That way we would have a valid excuse for spending some time together. Time we will mostly spend on prepping you for that PhD and the application process.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Professor Kim looks at his shirt in your arm and then his naked torso.

“I forgot I wasn’t wearing a shirt. Sorry about that.”

He grabs a jacket from a stand in the corner and buttons it up. This way, he is mostly covered up again. What a shame. You’d grown used to seeing him shirtless by now.

“And one more thing, y/n.”

“What?”

“Please call me Namjoon. Teaching assistants and their professors are almost always on first name terms.”

You hand him back the moist shirt.

“Got it. The shirt should be fine now. But please give it a wash in the washing machine as well.”

“Thank you for your help. I’ll remember that for next time.”

--------

As it turns out, Professor Kim – no, Namjoon – spills something quite regularly. No matter how elegant he looks, he can be quite clumsy. The following week you end up washing coke out of his shirt. The week after hot cocoa. You end up almost getting too comfortable with seeing him shirtless.

Being a TA is turning out to be quite fun and not all that much work, since Namjoon does not hold that many courses this semester.

The day comes when you get accepted into 3 different PhD programs at very prestigious universities. They are out of Professor Lim’s league, so he doesn’t dare mess with you. And finally, your graduation day arrives.

After a beautiful graduation ceremony, you have dinner with your mom and granny. Granny urges you to get married and mom wants you to finally start working full-time. They both talk way too much about your brother and sister and their little families.

Afterwards, you are in dire need of a drink. You end up in a poorly lit bar two houses down from the restaurant. Surprisingly, it smells like peppermint and lime in there. You sit down at the bar and order your favorite drink.

“Long day?”

Namjoon turns to you. You sat down on his right side without even noticing him there. You notice that the top 3 buttons of his shirt are open, and the sleeves pushed upwards. Your mind wants to go in some dirty directions, but you don’t let it.

Thankfully, the bartender puts down the drink in front of you right that moment.

“Kind of. Beautiful, but also laden. Like a landmine.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Sounds like family.”

Namjoon snorts into his drink.

“No matter how much I love my family, I understand what you mean. What did they say to you getting into the 3 best universities in the country?”

“Haven’t told them. They’d be livid that I haven’t gotten married or taken a full time, highly paid positions somewhere yet.”

“You’ll probably have to tell them sometime.”

“Yeah, sometime. I only see them once or twice a year and that’s soon enough for me.”

You let out a long, heavy sigh.

“You want to sit down in an alcove?”

“Sure.”

You move to an empty one with your drinks. The lighting is different here. Warmer, sexier. Namjoon’s dimples look like they want to pull you closer to him. You have a hard time resisting.

“Now that I’m no longer your professor, I’d still like to at least stay friends with you.”

“Of course. It’s thanks to you that I got to this point.”

“Not really. I only guided you a little. But thanks to you I now know how to clean almost all stains out of my shirts.”

You smile. That is true.

“I didn’t mind.”

You don’t because you find his clumsiness endearing. And also, because you got to see him shirtless on a weekly basis. Which was worth the effort.

Namjoon smiles. And something in that smile tells you that he knows.

You fidget a little. Since the nook is small and the bench short, your arm touches his in the process. You withdraw your arm and sit still again.

“I will miss having you around nearly every day. Of course, you were a great help, but mostly your presence is very stimulating to my mind.”

“Well, you wanted to be friends, so we will still get to see each other.”

“Of course. But that won’t be the same, will it?”

“I suppose not.”

Namjoon takes another sip of beer. When he leans back again, his cheeks are a faint strawberry color. You keep your eyes on him. He doesn’t look at you, though, but far into the distance.

“I am a very clumsy person. Which you know.”

“Yes.”

“I do spill drinks on myself quite regularly.”

“I know.”

“But maybe not quite so often. More like once or twice a month.”

“What are you saying?”

You’re still looking at him and he finally meets your eyes.

“I wanted to be close to you. The way you looked at my chest whenever I took of my shirt... I hoped you’d make a move on me someday.”

“Wait what?”

“Ridiculous, I know. You have marvelous self-restraint. And perhaps you only enjoy pecks in general, not specifically me as a person.”

His eyes are honest, with a hint of vulnerability. You hold his gaze for a few moments, then your eyes move down to his pecks. His shirt today is just the right amount of tight. But the fabric is midnight blue, so you cannot see through it.

You bite your bottom lip. You do like Namjoon as a person.

“I do like pecks. But yours are particularly… delectable.”

You slowly look up at him again. His dimples are showing. You move your hand up and gently poke one of his dimples with your finger. When you withdraw your hand again, Namjoon catches it and blows a kiss on your fingertip.

Butterflies flutter through your stomach. You move a little closer and put your hand on his thigh. He does not object. When you stroke up and down his thigh, his breathing becomes a little labored.

Encouraged by your bold movements, Namjoon leans forward and touches his lips to yours. You deepen the kiss. He tastes like peppermint and beer.

You break apart after what could have been seconds or hours.

“Would you like to disappear from here? My apartment is just down the road. If you aren’t ready, though, we can postpone that.”

You take him by the hand and pull him out of the alcove. Thank goodness the drinks are already paid for.

The warm summer air outside caresses your legs and arms. Namjoon takes your hand and guides you to his place. On the way you talk about books, as usual.

Only once the door to his apartment closes behind him do things change again. You’ve barely taken off your shoes when Namjoon grabs your waist and pulls you against him. This kiss is much less restrained and civil than the one in the bar.

You melt into him, your hands on his firm pecks. You run your hands over them, making sure to also caress his nipples gently. Every time you give them a twist, his breath catches. Finally, you can’t take it anymore and unbutton his shirt. He does not stop you.

Once you have peeled the shirt off him, you let your hands roam over his entire upper body. He gives you time to explore while keeping his hands at your waist.

When you break apart for a breather, Namjoon smiles.

“This kind of curiosity will bring you far anywhere, y/n.”

You giggle. Even in a situation like this, he can’t help but think of work and books.

“I hope it can also bring me as far as your bedroom.”

“If that is where you want to be, definitely.”

He walks to the bedroom door and pushes it open. You walk inside past him and turn on the light. There are beautiful paintings on the wall. The bed isn’t made, but overall, the room is very clean and organized.

You turn back to Namjoon.

“I love the interior design. I want a painting tour later on.”

“Whatever you wish, y/n.”

You put your hands on his belt buckle and open it.

“IF there is anything you don’t like, tell me to stop. Ditto for if it’s too much.”

“Who is the teacher here?”

You smirk up at him.

“Tonight, I think it’s me. But I’m always willing to switch roles.”

You pull the belt out of his pants.

“Lie down.”

He does.

“Put up your hands.”

He follows your instructions again. You tie his hands to the head of the bed with his belt.

“I’ll untie you whenever you want. Just say the word.”

“Got it. But I’m feeling pretty comfortable right now.”

You unzip your dress and drop it on the floor before crawling on the bed. Namjoon lies stretched out, the muscles in his arms and torso prominent. You sit down on his lower belly and give him a kiss.

“This could take a while.”

And it does. You start with feathery kisses on his dimples and then move down his neck. You are very tempted to leave marks there, but that wouldn’t be good for a professor who has to teach his students tomorrow.

So instead, you suck a mark into his bulging upper arm. You gently scratch your teeth over the inside of his forearm. That has goosebumps running over his arms. You bite down on the inside of his palm.

By then you’ve teased enough and move down to his chest. His gorgeous chest. Finally, you get to touch and savor. You place sloppy kisses all over his pecks. Namjoon watches you with hooded eyes. When you run your lips over his nipples, his eyes cross. You do it again and add a little tongue. He huffs out a breath.

You keep up the ministrations for another minute or two until you move down his stomach. You leave tiny bites there, which has his stomach muscles contracting like crazy.

You unzip his slacks.

“Hips up.”

He does and you pull the slacks and underwear down. As you already felt earlier, he is fully erected. You run your hand up the shaft and pay special attention to the frenulum. Namjoon takes a shuddering breath. Your thumb draws a circle around his slit.

“Baby, stop torturing me.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Namjoon sighs.

“Goodness, no.”

“Then stop complaining or I’ll gag you next.”

You smile up at him.

Then you lower your head and repeat the circular motion around his slit with your tongue. His moan is a true turn on. You ditch your panties, slip your hand between your legs and start playing with your clit, while you keep working him with your tongue and mouth.

It doesn’t take long until you have him at the brink of desperation. And ecstasy.

You raise your head and let go of him. His eyes linger on your other hand, which is between your legs.

“May I do that too, tonight?”

“Definitely. But later.”

You crawl back up to the headboard and untie him. He lowers his arms and presses you against his body. The close body contact feels heavenly.

Namjoon undoes your bra. You sit up and throw it aside. Then you lay down on him again, rubbing your nipples against his chest. It feels like heaven. Until you’re so sensitive you have to stop.

You kiss the tip of his nose.

“Your turn now, professor. I want to feel you in me.”

He rolls you around until you are lying on your back and he is hovering over you. With one hand he grabs your hands and pins them against the pillows above you. You find that very, very hot.

You arch your body towards him.

“Please.”

“How could I say no to that.”

You feel his tip push against your entrance. It’s a nice stretch once he finally pushes into you, slowly, so you can adjust. Except that you are so turned on that you don’t really need time to adjust.

Namjoon is breathing heavily by the time he bottoms out.

“Give me just a second like this, okay? I don’t want to cum right away.”

He smiles down at you and the dimples appear in all their glory. You pucker your lips. He gets the message and leans down for a kiss. A very deep, slightly messy kiss.

Once you break apart and he finally starts moving, your eyes meet. His are dark, almost black, with lust.

His moves are slow and steady at first. He lets go of one of your hands, so you can play with your nipple. It doesn’t take long until his moves become sloppier, harsher. With a few more twists or your nipple your high burns its way through you.

Namjoon’s breathing gets shallower while you moan into his ear. He lets go of your other hand and you sling both around his torso.

“I can’t… much longer…”

“It’s okay. We have all night for more.”

A few more sloppy thrusts, then Namjoon cums. He buries his face in your shoulder, and you hold him once his body ceases to move.

It takes a bit for both your breathing to normalize and for heartbeats to slow down again. Until that happens, you stroke Namjoon’s hair.

You don’t know how long you lay there like that, but you enjoy it.

Eventually, Namjoon raises his head and looks down at you. His eyes have cleared up to their normal dark brown. You see something in them that looks surprisingly like love. You’re even more surprised that you don’t mind that at all. Maybe it is time to trust another person and give them your love.

“Would you like to go and take a hot shower with me, y/n.”

“Gladly.”

He pulls out of you and helps you up.

“About that paintings tour of your apartment?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s postpone that until tomorrow. I think we’re busy for the rest of the night.”

Namjoon guides you into the bathroom, where he turns on the shower. There is easily enough space for two people in there.

“As you prefer, honey.”

When you look at him his eyes are crinkled in a smile.

© musicloverxoxo7, 2023

Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work (reblogging is fine though). Doing so will make you legally liable for stealing intellectual property.

[inconsistentwriting]

In between breaths

Notes: This was written with my OC in mind, but I tried to keep it as neutral as possible. GN! Reader x SingleDad! Ghost. “Mom” used as a role, not a gender thing. Kinda rushed end because Writer's Block was about to hit me. I put SMYL's "You knew it was me" EP and let my mind go wild.

I had met Simon Riley when we were children. A fateful Christmas, I had traveled with my family to enjoy the holidays in my uncle’s place. I was 12 years old, and it was my first Christmas knowing Santa wasn’t real. In hindsight, I’m glad I knew. If I hadn’t maybe Simon and I wouldn’t have become as close as we did. Midnight had arrives and the fireworks were roaring. I stood in the middle of the field behind my uncle’s yard until I saw a boy standing not too far. He was watching the fireworks, but he had a sad expression on his face. I decided to approach him to ask him why he was sad. That boy, I later learned, was named Simon and he was 8 years old. He explained to me that Santa hadn’t arrived in his home. I’ll never get over what I did, I can’t even remember how exactly it happened, but I put on a face, as if I was deep in thought. After a second I raised a finger, declaring: “Santa didn’t forget about you, he just got confused with the address. I was wondering whose the extra presents under my tree were for. Wait right here, I’ll go bring them for you”. I’ll never stop being grateful to my quick-wit. A teddy bear and a football, part of my presents which I just gave up for the younger boy to have. A teddy bear and a football changed the entire trajectory of my life.

Now, I’m 26 years old and I am in college, studying medicine. Simon and I remained friends throughout of childhood and teenage years. For more than a decade, we were there for each other. I helped him deal with his pain in a healthier way, to open up, even if only a little. We were very close until I had to move away for college. Now it’s been three years since we last saw each other. My studies kept me away for too long and my mental health was begging me for a break, so I decided to spend the summer back at home, and maybe, just maybe, see Simon once again. I wondered how he must have been all these years. He would be 22, and a half, as he always felt the need to remark. I wondered if he had found a partner, a job, something to study. What had been of him all these years?

Whatever I had hoped to find surely wasn’t anything like the scene before me. After arriving to our town, I saw Simon’s mom running errands in the market, pushing a baby stroller. I approached to say hello and catch up, and she introduced me to the little boy on the stroller. His name was Ken, and he was Simon’s son. The little boy was holding the same teddy bear I had given Simon 14 years before. I guess my shock must have been very apparent because she rushed to explain. Turns out, during a one night stand, Simon’s protection broke, resulting in the sleeping toddler on the carriage. She explained that his mother didn’t want to be involved in his life, so she left, and that Simon had been raising him on his own. Simon’s mom helped whenever she could, but with her other son in rehab, it had become very hard for her. The story broke my heart, not only because of the idea of his mother abandoning the little ray of sun that slept peacefully in his stroller, but the idea of Simon, who I know had no idea of how to be a father, doing it all on his own.

The moment I could finally catch Simon and speak with him, it seemed as if those three years apart meant nothing, as if no time had passed between us. I asked why he never told me, why he never asked me for help. He said the obvious excuse, “You were busy with school”, “I didn’t want to worry you”, etc. He introduced me to Ken and I decided to take a semester off to help him a little with the day to day, to see if I could help him grow confident in his parenting. By accident, I found out, Simon had ended up spoiling his son a little. The little boy had no idea how to regulate his emotions and Simon was definitely not a great example. Si wasn’t abusive at all, that’s the only thing he knew, never to put his hands on his kid, like his father had done; but he had no idea on how to properly calm down a child. It took time and patience, but with time I was able to see the growth of both Simon and Ken.

One day, after a long day at work, Simon had arrived home tired and stressed. He entered the kitchen, where I was, keeping an eye on dinner. Ken was peacefully sleeping on my arms; poor angel was exhausted after a long day. My best friend made his way towards me and pressed his forehead against my shoulder.

-Rough day today, huh?

-Terrible one.

-I think I know of something that’ll cheer you up a bit.

I pointed at the kitchen table, where a sheet of paper laid, surrounded by crayons. The paper said “My Hero” and under it was a drawing of Simon holding Ken. When Simon grabbed it, a tired smile crept up to his lips before he turned around to plant a kiss on the little sleeping toddler on my arms.

-He also did his homework before I even told him anything.

-Homework? He is barely three.

-His homework is drawing with crayons, not calculus, Si. It’s only so he can learn the habit and it’s easier for him to keep it going when he grows up.

I giggled, shaking my head. I saw his open arms, silently asking me to hold his kid. I handed him the sleeping child, who tossed a little as I did.

-Why was he sleeping on your arms?

-Poor baby was tired, but he wanted to stay with me, so I offered holding him. When he fell asleep, I tried to put him down on his bed, but he’d always wake up fuzzy about it.

-He really loves being around you. He got that from me.

-I suppose he did.

Simon sat down on one of the chairs around the kitchen table, hugging his son and feeling the tension and stress of the day melt off.

-Coming home to you two feels like a dream. Your presence and Ken’s hugs make a shitty day really feel like nothing more than a bad dream. Your presence really helped us. It helped me. Thank you.

-I want to be able to be here for you, Si. Not only now, but every time. You are one of the most important people to me, and I would’ve loved to be here since the start.

-I’m sorry I never told you.

-I understand why you did it, though.

The evening passed by, Ken woke up and started to talk to his father about his day, Simon shared the sweet moment with his child and I finished making dinner. We all sat down to eat, we talked and laughed, and by the end, as he cleaned his mouth with a napkin, Ken said in that bubbly voice of his

-Thank you mama.

Simon and I were shocked. He almost choked on the drink on his glass, and I almost dropped the plates I had gathered. Simon was the first to come out of our shock.

-What did you say, buddy?

-Thank you mama.

In his innocence, Ken hadn’t notice the confusion and shock in his father’s voice. I didn’t want the boy to think he did something wrong, so I quickly answered

-You are welcomed, Kenny.

Simon and I both tried to keep our cool. We cleaned up the dishes, tidied up and took Ken to bed. We tucked him in like we always did and then Simon dared to ask the toddler.

-Hey little man, I need to ask you something. Why did you call them mama earlier?

-Because they are mama shaped. They are nice and good and care for me. Like a mama.

I could barely contain the tears building up on the corners of my eyes. The little baby boy I had come to love as my own also considered me as his own. I was speechless. I could only hug him a little tighter and kiss his chubby little cheeks before saying goodnight. After we put the boy down to sleep, Simon and I sat down to talk about what had happened. Before he could even get a world in, I decided to talk.

-If you don’t feel comfortable with Kenny calling me mama, I’ll talk to him about it. I’ll let him know I’m only your friend and everything, It’s okay-

Before I could continue rambling, Simon grabbed my face between his hands.

-Stop, stop. Quit overthinking for a second and listen.

I locked my gaze with those beautiful big brown eyes of his, instantly stopping to listen to him.

-Look… I noticed the tears that built up on your eyes when Ken called you like that. I know you, and I know how much this means to you. And honestly? It means a lot for me too. My son sees you as his mama, and I’d give anything for this beautiful relationship between you two to keep this pureness. In his eyes and in mine, you are the only mama he’s ever known. If you feel comfortable with him calling you that way, I would be so happy…

I couldn’t help myself. I could only interrupt him with a hug, pulling him so close to my body, as if afraid he might change his mind if I let go.

-I’d love to. I want to be here for both of you. You are so important to me; I can’t imagine a life without both of you in it. I want to keep being Kenny’s mama. I want to take care of him, to love him and to love you.

The last few words came out as a surprise to both of us. I hoped he hadn’t heard or that he’d think nothing of it, but as he pulled me away to look into my eyes, I could see the shock on his eyes.

-You mean that? You actually feel like that? I’m not dreaming, am I?

Sheepishly, I nodded. I couldn’t let the words out, but there was no turning back now. I wanted to look up, to see his reaction, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. What if he changed his mind about me being around his son? What if I just fucked up our friendship? What if…? Before my mind could go any further down the rabbit hole, his fingers found my chin, making me look up into his eyes.

-You really love me? Despite having seen the ugly side of me? Despite how hard I was all throughout our teenage years? Despite the fact I made myself unreachable for three years because I was ashamed of not knowing what the hell I was doing? You love me?

His voice carried the disbelief I knew he always held when someone showed him love like this. He thought himself undeserving, and it crushed my soul. I thought to myself, “What the hell, he already knows, might as well show him how serious I am”, before leaning in and kissing his lips. I wanted to leave no doubt on his mind. I wanted him to understand. To my surprise, he pulled me closer, kissing me back as I melted in his embrace. After a couple of seconds, we pulled away from each other to look into the other’s eyes. We didn’t have to say much, guided by the feeling of each other’s arms, lips, smiles. It flowed like natural, it felt correct, and any doubt dissipated between kisses and I love you’s. We just cuddled on the couch, feeling the weight lifting from our shoulders, as we hugged, kissed, talked and laughed.

I was glad he didn’t have to work in the morning, because neither of us wanted to let go…

[harrison-abbott]

Back in university I did a module in anthropology. Which was a really cool subject, that I knew nothing about before studying it. And, in the tutorial group, the class was led by his man called Norman Prell. He was German. In the first lesson he asked one of the students to read out an explanation of what anthropology was fundamentally about. So I thought I’d brave it and speak some ideas I had. I wasn’t brave, but I tried anyway. And when I tried that inaugural time, it turned out I spoke really well. Kinda surprised myself – because I’ve always been coy about speaking in public.

The next lesson that coyness resumed. Norman Prell was going around the class, asking the students questions, and the attention came to me, and I blushed heavily. And much the same thing happened the lesson after that: I was trying read a text of notes out and I kept stammering and I could feel the eyes of the other students on me.

Moreover, all of the other students were very quiet. They seemed not to know what to say. And there were entire swathes when there were silences in between what Prell was trying to say. But, we all really liked Prell. He had a soft voice, and was intelligent and he cared about academia. Properly cared about it – and wasn’t just doing it for money. He was a proper anthropologist, that studied other cultures.

Anyway, I did my first essay on the course, and I got a low B for it. I just didn’t suss the question that well and didn’t do it that well. And in class, it was much the same: the pupils were largely very quiet, and when it came to me trying, my stutter came back and I reddened a lot. But Norman Prell tried to encourage me and he wasn’t trying to shut me up, like other teachers I’ve had; or with other teachers who have ignored me completely when I try to contribute: he was letting me find my way. And I remember on the last ever tutorial, the final one of the semester: nobody was speaking. So he turned to me and he said, “Harry, what do you think?” We were discussing one of the books we’d read for the course. And so I just thought ‘Have a bit of courage’, and I went for it. And this time I didn’t blush or stammer – I spoke eloquently, just as I’d done on the first tutorial, but even better this time. And Prell enjoyed it and we had a good chat in front of all of these people.

It's weird how confidence can swing around like that. Most of the time you have no confidence whatever, but if you try, you can perform brilliantly. It just takes the courage to keep trying with it.

And, Norman Prell was a really cool chap. I remember several people in academia who were inspiring. They made you want to be like them. Even though they were older and a far way away from their position. Good stuff.

[softprettything]

late bloomer, ch 11

AO3 | Previous | Next

Fandom: OHSHC

Pairing: Kyoya/Reader

Tags: 18+, A/B/O Dynamics, College AU, Fake Dating, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slice of Life, Eventual Smut

Taglist: @silverhetdanes @lampalooza

late bloomer, ch 11

“Olivia!” Reese goes over to her with a hug. “Perfect timing.” 

“Now that?” Lou whispers. “That I will definitely not miss.”

"Does she—" You look from her to Olivia, back and forth. "I mean, do they come here a lot?"

"Oh, yeah. Look I'm all for uniting forces or whatever. And most of the Triple O folks are super sweet—"

"Plus, they can organize the shit out of a fundraiser," Regan adds.

"—True. But I went to high school with Livvy Freidmonte, and unless she's changed since then…" Lou shakes her head. "I know a first-class bitch when I see one. I wouldn't trust that girl as far as I could throw her."

"Really?" you ask. "What exactly—"

"Alright, everybody!" Reese claps their hands together, and the room settles down. "Let's get started. Re-started. For the new folks, this is Olivia Freidmonte; she's one of our siblings over at Triple O, and our head coordinator for collabs! Olivia?"

"Hey there!" Olivia is all smiles and pep as she waves at the crowd. "So stoked to be here. Now, as most of you probably know, the Winter Wonderland end-of-term music festival last semester was a huge success. Between ticket sales, merch profits, and voluntary donations, we raised twenty thousand over the span of two days, all of which went directly to fund arts education programs at high schools in the surrounding areas."

A round of applause, which you find yourself joining in on. Whatever your personal feelings on Olivia may be, twenty thousand dollars in two days? You can't help but respect it.

"Looking into the future…the good news is, we're less than two weeks out from our spring fundraiser! Bad news: thanks to a little fire snafu, Grand's is closed for repairs all month. So we're on crunch time to find another venue. It's a smaller event, very lowkey; ideally we want to find somewhere closer to campus, with a kitchen or at least a fridge we can use to store food, mix drinks, stuff like that." She scribbles a phone number on the board. "Just shoot me a text if you know of a place. This is a great opportunity to…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Regan whispers. "She seems super nice."

"You just think that because you're super nice, Ri," Lou whispers back.

"I'm just saying! High school was a long time ago."

"Yeah. I don't know. (Y/N), you're in the same year as her, right? You must have crossed paths. What do you think?"

As you open your mouth to say something, Olivia's gaze falls on you. You freeze. It feels as though time slows to a halt: she pauses in her presentation for a moment. Her smile falters. Her eyes narrow slightly.

Then, as though nothing happened, the smile is back on her face, and she continues on, just as peppy as before. You let out a breath, before remembering that Lou and Regan are still both looking at you, waiting for an answer. You give them a tiny smile. "No comment."

*************

As the evening winds down, you have to admit: you had a pretty good time. Olivia ignores you, to the point that you begin to wonder if you imagined her noticing you during her presentation entirely. You trade numbers with Lou and Regan, offering to answer any questions they might have about surviving senior year, and promising them you'll consider coming to the next Cozy Quorum. Overall, as you exit into the cool early-spring air, you're feeling pretty good.

"(Y/N)!"

"Hey!" You turn to Reese with a smile. "Thanks for inviting me. This was actually really cool."

"Not so bad, right?" You nod. "Now, listen, I swear I didn't have any ulterior motives when I ran into you this morning, but…"

You try to pay attention. Really, you do, but your head is too scrambled. If Haruhi isn't home (it's a Sunday, so probably she is) (on the other hand, she doesn't have any classes on Mondays…) (does Tamaki?) then you only have to worry about dinner for yourself, which means eggs. Or, no, you were supposed to pick up eggs today. Chips and dip, then. And then the paper proposal. Technically you have until the end of class, but you really should email it by morning—were you assigned an early morning shift at the cafe tomorrow? No, an afternoon one.

Your phone buzzes, and you can't help but glance down and see it's from an unfamiliar number, and you're suddenly too distracted to—

"—think?"

"Hm?" Reese is looking at you. Shit. Your cheeks heat up immediately, mortified as you are to be caught so blatantly zoning out. They don't seem to have noticed, though, so you take a crapshoot and give them your most enthused nod. "Right! I mean, yes, absolutely."

"You are a lifesaver." Reese claps. "This is perfect. Let me just put you in touch with—there she is."

Before you can stop them to ask whose life you're saving, and how, and what exactly you just agreed to, they tap someone on the shoulder. That person whirls around and—oh, wouldn't you know, it's—

"Olivia, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), Olivia. You're both first-year grad students, I think?"

"We've met," the two of you say simultaneously. She sticks a hand out, which you accept. "(Y/N) and I have a class together, actually. Some gender-studies thing."

"The Radical Dynamics of Jane Austen," you supply. This handshake is going on for way longer than is comfortable.

Reese nods, possibly sensing the tension, but eventually deciding to bowl through it anyway. "So. (Y/N) works at that incredible coffee shop on the corner of Oak and Whitley, and apparently it's free two Fridays from now, which means…"

Olivia's look of disdain explodes into an overenthusiastic smile. "Oh, my gosh! Seriously?"

Before you can say anything, Reese nods. "I'll leave you two to work out the details—but, (Y/N), seriously? Thank you. I owe you one." With a wink—to you? To Olivia? Who knows!—they're gone.

"Well." Olivia looks you up and down. Between the necklace and the blowout and the perfectly coordinated pink outfit, it’s like looking at Evil Elle Woods. “You’re just popping up everywhere, aren’t you?”

You meet her fake smile with one of your own. “Could say the same about you.”

“Oh, the Trips all love EpPhi. We throw mixers all the time. It was so awesome to have you join us last night!” The smile she gives you practically shows each and every one of her perfectly square, perfectly white teeth, making you feel even more like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. "I didn't realize Reese was finally able to get that due waiver program rolled out."

"Hm?"

"Oh, you know. Greek life can be so…you know. Old money. Reese is super dedicated to trying to diversify—" (somehow, she manages to make that sound like a bad thing) "—and I guess it's working."

"Oh, no. I'm not joining. I mean, not that there's anything wrong with joining." Why are you trying to explain yourself? If Olivia's decided to dislike you, nothing you say is going to win her over. "I just came to check it out. It was cool, though—your presentation was great."

She scrunches her nose at you. "Thanks. Well. Even if you're not pledging, that just makes it even nicer of you to get so involved."

"Oh, no, I'm not—"

"No modesty, please. You're a total lifesaver. Anytime we have insider contact for a venue, it's always, like, an executive whatever, and half the time they don't have any idea what actually goes into putting together an event like this. It'll be so helpful to have the perspective of, you know. A lower-level employee."

You are so, so tempted to just say it was all a big mistake.

But the cafe calendar is empty two Fridays from now. And Reese, who has been nothing but nice to you since you met, seems kind of desperate for you to say yes.

Not to mention, all special events at Ground Up get logged as overtime hours—meaning, double pay.

Double pay plus tips.

So, with no small amount of reluctance, you nod. "Mm-hm. Right." This fake smile is beginning to hurt your cheeks. You clear your throat. "So! We should, um, set up a time to talk through specifics, right? I have a shift at the cafe tomorrow afternoon after class, if that's a good time. That way you can get an idea of what the space looks like?"

"Perf." The gap between her words and the way she looks at you while saying them is starting to make your head hurt. She passes you a card. "Here's my number."

"Great." She's already halfway down the street, clearly just as eager to get away from you as you are from her. "See you in class!" you call after her. Your phone buzzes again—a two-minute reminder of the text from earlier. You swipe it open.

unknown: Shockingly, I did not get 'sexiled' tonight.

unknown: Hopefully this doesn’t mean you’re sleeping on the front porch.

A smile rises to your mouth unbidden. You create a new contact with the number, and then type:

Y/N: I have a bed of my own, you know.

*************

You're shutting the front door of your apartment behind you and kicking off your shoes by the time you get a reply.

Kyoya Ootori: I’m aware. 

Kyoya Ootori: It’s a good one. Best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.

"You're home late."

You look up. "And you're…home." You toss your bag under a chair and tuck your phone into your pocket as you sit down across from Haruhi, who's typing away furiously at her laptop. "Rewrite?"

"Prewrite." She takes a sip of coffee, then goes back to typing. I'm trying to get ahead on work for the next two weeks, so that I'm not behind when I get back."

It's not unusual for Haruhi to be on top of things—but missing class? "Get back from what?"

"Tamaki's heat is coming up this week. Thursday, probably. Kiera's heats were always pretty long." Kiera…ah, yes, that was two ex's ago. "Tamaki says his usually only last a couple of days, but I want to be ahead. Just in case."

You feel like you're moving underwater. Even blinking seems to take twice as long as usual. "Can't hurt to be prepared," you manage.

"Mm-hm." She takes another swig of coffee, finishing the mug. You grab it and go to brew her some more, if only to get away from the table. Seemingly oblivious to your general state, she asks, "What about you? Good weekend?"

"Weird weekend."

"Weird? Huh." She chuckles, but doesn't press further.

The coffee starts to drip. "That's big," you say. "The heat stuff."

"Oh, this is nothing. I should have it all done by tomorrow."

"A big step in the relationship, I mean. Like, spending a heat together." You lean against the counter, chewing on your bottom lip and shooting another text to Kyoya.

Y/N: My halfprice preowned fb marketplace boxspring is honored

Kyoya Ootori: Hang on, checking my clothes for bedbugs.

Y/N: >:(

Kyoya Ootori: Just a joke. I promise.

Y/N: I know

Kyoya Ootori: Okay, good.

Y/N: That was just the face i made when i realized there isn’t a bedbug emoji

"I mean." You shake your head, bringing your attention back to the present. "Are you nervous at all?"

She stops to think about it, head tilted slightly. "No," she finally says, turning to look at you for the first time since you walked in. "Actually, this is the first time I haven't been nervous to spend a heat with someone new. Is that weird?"

"No." The way she says it, so matter of fact, sends an odd pang of sadness through you. You think of how Tamaki looks at her. The way she looks talking about him. Kyoya's certainty when he talked about what a good match they were. "It's not weird at all."

"Really?"

You pour the coffee, and try to smile as you bring it over. "You know I don't know anything about how all of this heat stuff works. But I do know this guy makes you happy, so. As long as he's treating you well, I'm happy." At least that much is true.

"Mh-hm." She gives a little smile, but you can tell her attention is firmly back on her work.

Which reminds you, you should be getting to your own work. You give her a pat on the shoulder. "I'm gonna hit the hay."

She nods. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Anytime. Don't stay up too late."

"I will."

You share a chuckle at that. "I know," you say softly.

As you reach your doorway, she calls out, "Oh, hey—did Kyoya end up dropping off the vitamins the other night?"

You freeze. "Uh, yeah, actually. He did." She doesn't look up, and you decide to test whether or not she's actually listening. "I invited him in to hide from the rain, we split the bottle of vitamins over candlelight and smooth jazz, he ended up staying the night. Super romantic. We're madly in love now. Instead of fighting during class we just make out on the seminar table."

"Cool."

Yeah, she absolutely isn't listening to you. "Yeah. Cool." Probably this is some sort of karma, for how you did the exact same thing to Reese earlier today—mm-hm-ing and yeah, sure-ing your way through a conversation. But it still stings. "Night."

"Night."

Kyoya Ootori: You’re…sad that there’s no bedbug emoji?

Y/N: Thatss a lie, actually

Y/N: Id pay the emoji people every cent in my bank account to never ever create a bedbug emoji

Kyoya Ootori: Noted.

Kyoya Ootori: I hope you had a good day.

You smile.

Y/N: You too. 

Y/N: Enjoy not being sexiled. I'll see you in class tomorrow?

Kyoya Ootori: Likewise. See you then.

Kyoya Ootori: I actually have something I want to talk to you about in person, if you’re free after.

But by the time that last text rolls in, you’ve already washed your face and brushed your teeth and started typing away at your own laptop, phone face down on your nightstand.

*************

Come morning, you've written a paper proposal that you're pretty proud of, actually. Abe was right—you are capable of more than that first effort.

Unfortunately, writing it did take you most of the night. Meaning you only got a few hours of sleep before your alarm went off. You skim your new notifications, only half processing them—until you see an email from TA Abe asking if you can swing by his office hours after class.

Shit.

Did he already read your proposal? Is it really that bad?

Whatever the verdict is, you’re not going to improve anything by skipping class. You drag yourself in and out of the shower, chug some decaf coffee—a placebo for dire situations like these—and run. When you get there, the seminar table is about halfway full. You slide into an empty seat by the windows. When Kyoya comes in, you give him a wave and a smile, which he returns. You're about to gesture that he should take the empty seat next to you—

When Olivia slides into it.

“Morning.” She pulls a lipgloss and tiny mirror out of her bag, touching up her already perfect makeup. God, you wish you were that put together. Even at nine in the morning, she doesn't have a single hair out of place. "Are you still free after class?"

"Yeah—I just have to pop by Abe's office hours super quickly, if that's alright?"

She gives you a thin smile as she snaps the compact shut. "Sure." Before you can respond, she's turned away from you. "Kyoya! Where did you disappear to this weekend? I was…"

You tune her out. It's too early in the morning to eavesdrop, you decide, especially on two-point-five hours of sleep. You'd estimate you have maybe five hours of awake time left in you before you crash, if you're lucky. And that's not even taking into consideration the sheer amount of energy you're going to have to expend trying to get through this meeting with Abe, and this meeting with Olivia, and your actual job.

Class feels ungodly slow. It's not boring, of course—how could it be? But your exhaustion makes you sloppy, combined with how on edge you are about your meeting with Abe. You try your best to keep a low profile. Kyoya must be able to sense you're a bit out of it, because he goes a little easier on you than usual. Or maybe that's just because he remembers your conversation from this weekend, and because Olivia is literally sitting smack in between the two of you.

In any case, you're relieved to make it through class more or less in one piece. When it's done, you stand up, ready to follow Abe and a few other students to his office elsewhere in the building. As you make it to the door, a wave of dizziness overtakes you, and you stumble.

"Woah." Kyoya is there, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." You blink. "Sorry, I just had to pull an all-nighter last night."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's nothing." You wave a hand. "I've been taking my multivitamin, so. Iron for days, over here."

He chuckles. "Glad to hear it." He sticks his hands in his pockets.

As he opens his mouth to say something, you glance a ways down the hall, where Olivia is giving you the death glare to end all death glares.

"—work?"

You blink again, and look up at Kyoya. You get the sense that he's expecting you to say something, though you have no idea what. You're about to ask what, but then, there, behind Olivia, Abe disappears into his office. "Work. Yes, office hours and then work. I have to run—sorry—but I'm all good, I promise!"

He says something else, you think, but you're too far down the hall to hear him. Oh, well. It probably wasn't anything important.

*************

You walk into Abe's office just as another student is leaving. Abe looks up and waves you over. 

“(Y/N), hey! Great timing. Have a seat—this’ll only take a second.”

You drop your bag and coat and sit. He’s busy pulling up something on his tablet. You feel more and more like you’re about to throw up with each passing second.

“So,” he finally says. Your stomach clenches. “Got your email. I only had a chance to give it a cursory lookover this morning, but…” He turns off his tablet, puts it onto the table, and gives you a smile. “It’s really good work, (Y/N).”

Your heart leaps into your chest. “Really?”

“Really. Look, I’ve read all the JLT essays for years now, and you’ve always been solid. But this is a step up.” He gives you a thumbs up. “Good job pushing yourself, kid.”

There’s still a lot to do, of course—the deadline for the assignment, and the contest, is less than a month away. But it’s a step in the right direction. It’s amazing what the tiniest bit of academic validation can do—you feel like nothing could possibly bring your mood down.

Not even Olivia, who's in the hall when you come out of Abe's office, still chatting with Kyoya. When she sees you, she waves to you, then leans in closer to Kyoya to say one more thing, her hand resting on his chest. You do your best to look disinterested. The last thing you need to do is give her any more reason to think the two of you are fighting over Kyoya.

After a few more giggles and another long touch to Kyoya's arm, she bounds over to you.

"Sorry about that," she says. "Let's walk?"

You give her a nod, and a tight smile of your own. As she grabs her phone to shoot off a quick text, you can't help but take one glance back at Kyoya. Kyoya, at the other end of the hall. Kyoya, who you still can't quite figure out.

Kyoya, who's looking at you, too.

*************

The planning part goes relatively painlessly. Olivia might be the most organized person you've ever met, with an event binder perfectly sectioned and highlighted in a rainbow of sunset tones. She has all of the forms needed—some for you to sign, others for you to pass along to your upper manager—and knows all of the right questions to ask about time, spacing, cleanup, fees.

"You're really good at this," you tell her, and you mean it. With her help, you've accomplished in five minutes what would take most people hours—weeks, even—to get done. She shrugs. "No, seriously. It's really impressive."

"Oh, this is nothing. My mom is involved in, like, a billion different charities, and I'm the oldest, so I got roped into helping out when I was, like, eight. And all of the planning for this was done already. All there really is to do is transplant all of the catering and things to the new venue. Reese was right about using this place. It's cute."

Was that…a compliment? Not to you directly, but still. "You think?"

"Yeah! Tiny, but cute."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. She turns a page, seemingly very interested in the binder as she asks, "So, like. How do you know Reese?"

"Huh?" You were expecting her to ask you about Kyoya. But in the twenty minutes you've spent walking to the cafe, and now sitting here, she has yet to bring up his name once.

"I mean, I'm by EpPhi a lot, and I've never seen you around there. And you said you're not pledging or anything."

"Right." This is still a territorial thing, then—just after actual territory, this time, not romantic territory. "No, yeah, I just—we ran into each other at a party, and I guess they were looking to recruit people for the open-night meetings?"

Before she can answer, you hear: "Livvy!"

Both of you look up and are immediately crashed into by a couple of red-headed whirlwinds.

"Hey guys," you say, once Kaoru has released you from his iron grip. "Oh, shit, am I late?"

"What? No way. You have, like, five whole minutes before our shift even starts." Kaoru says, ruffling your hair before turning to address Olivia. "Miss Freidmonte. Never thought we'd catch you on this side of campus."

You look back and forth between them as they start chatting. Before you can ask any questions, a new voice says, "I came here expecting to see one friend, and here's four!" Brighter than the twins, even. "What are the odds?"

Tamaki, radiantly cheerful as always. When he finishes hugging Olivia and each of the twins, he sweeps you up into a bone-crushing hug of your own. "(Y/N)! Long time no see."

"Oh!" You do your best to smile as he pulls away. "Hi!"

"I hope these three aren't giving you a hard time, are they?" He playfully bats one of the twins on the shoulder. You let out a confused laugh.

"No, we just—Hikaru and Kaoru and I work here, and Olivia and I were just going over a project—what brings you here?"

"Oh, Haruhi wanted some coffee, and I thought it would be nice to come say hello! Since I'll be stealing her from you for the next week," he laughs.

"Hi." Peeking out from behind him—Haruhi. She gives you a little wave, which you return. "I'll be out of the house tonight."

"Oh, yeah," you say, your brain almost entirely blank trying to process all of your different worlds colliding at once. "Totally. No worries."

"I picked up eggs, though. And some more tea."

"Thanks. That's—"

"Haruhi," Tamaki interrupts, "have you ever met Olivia?" As the two shake hands, he claps his own together. "So many of my favorite people, all in one place! And (Y/N), you said you two were working on some kind of project, right? Sounds fun."

"Yeah," Olivia says, flipping back a few pages in her binder. "The EpPhi-Triple O joint fundraiser next Friday? We're having it here—you guys should totally come!"

"Next Friday? I might be out—heat leave."

You're shocked once again at how casually he says it. Even more than that, how casually everyone else responds. "Oh, totally," Olivia says, with a sympathetic nod.

"First heat together, huh?" Hikaru says. "That's exciting!"

You are going to be ill if you have to sit through another second of this conversation. You glance at your phone, desperate for some excuse. "Two minutes! I should start getting ready for work." You grab the stack of papers to be signed. "Liv—Olivia—thank you for…" You wave the papers. "I'll email these to you?"

She nods, only half paying attention as she continues explaining the fundraiser. Good enough. You get up to go. Haruhi gives you another muted smile as you leave, and Tamaki another blinding one.

As you walk away, you turn your attention back to your phone, scrolling, scrolling…and see another text from Kyoya. One you'd missed, last night.

Kyoya Ootori: I actually have something I want to talk to you about in person, if you're free after.

Huh.

It was sent a while after his last text to you, too. You start typing.

Y/N: Sorry I missed this. I'll be at Ground Up until 5

Y/N: Is everything ok?

You backspace that last text, but send the first. Almost immediately, three dots pop up as Kyoya starts typing out his response…

Then the three dots disappear.

You stare at your phone.

*************

It can't be anything bad he wants to talk about, right? That's what you tell yourself as you go through the motions of manning the register, checking mobile orders, rinsing shakers. If it was something urgent, he could have told you as much. But you can't imagine anything he'd need to talk to you about that couldn't be discussed over text.

Olivia's still at her table, which isn't exactly helping your nerves. Not that she's looked your way since you went to go clock in. She's still pouring over her binder, cross-checking a page with something on her laptop, occasionally marking something in highlighter or Wite-Out. More fundraiser stuff, probably. Or homework. Tamaki and Haruhi are still here, too, on the other end, sitting at a table pressed up against the windowed wall. It's probably a bit creepy, you know, the way you can't stop sneaking looks at the three of them, but it's either that or keep thinking in circles about Kyoya.

Which you're still doing.

Maybe…maybe it's the breaking heat news?

That's the only thing you can think of. Yeah, surely that's it—you've set yourself up as someone he can complain to about Tamaki and Haruhi, after all. Maybe he just wants to have a vent session. God knows you could probably use one, too.

"Hello? Earth to (Y/N)?"

"Hm?" You look over to see Hikaru putting order stickers on cups and sliding them over to his brother.

"You've been washing out that one shaker for, like, two minutes straight."

"Oh." You shake your head, grabbing a towel to dry it off. "Sorry."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Nickel?" Kaoru immediately tries to one-up him.

"Dime?" Hikaru counters without missing a beat.

"Quarter?"

You roll your eyes. "Livvy, huh?" They both just shrug. "So you guys just know everybody, now, is what I'm gathering."

Kaoru snorts. "We don't know everybody. You just happen to know nobody, which is why it seems like we know a lot of people by comparison."

"That's true," Hikaru says. "Although, she said you're helping her with this fundraiser thing?"

"Yep."

"(Y/N)!" He slaps you on the back so hard you almost drop the cup you're holding. "Look at you, going out and socializing! Trying new things! Can you believe it, Kaoru?"

"It's not a big de—"

Kaoru places a hand over his heart and sniffs. "They grow up so fast."

"You guys—"

"I'm just so honored we get to see it happen." They both step away from you, wearing identical expressions of mischief. "Although…"

You cross your arms. "What?"

"You still won't tell us who your mystery date was on Saturday."

"Oh, my God."

"You know, I just…" Hikaru lets out a huge, exaggerated sigh. "I thought we were friends, (Y/N)."

"No." You shake your head, turning away from them both, even as an unwelcome smile plays at the corners of your mouth. "None of that."

"I thought the countless hours we spent toiling away here meant something."

"I guess not."

"Kaoru, not you, too," you groan. "Guys. Seriously. We had this conversation. You thought it was Reese Barlow, right? So, sure. It was Reese Barlow."

"Nice try," says Hikaru.

"Yeah. No way we actually fall for that."

You press your lips more tightly together. They look at each other and sigh in unison.

"Such a shame," Hikaru says, shaking his head. "I guess we'll just have to ask Haruhi."

Your head snaps up. "Sorry?"

They both nod towards the far corner of the cafe, where Haruhi and Tamaki are still seated. Or no, sorry, just Tamaki is seated.

Because Haruhi is on her feet and walking towards the counter.

[claudiajcregg]

s5pAU (a folder with many “Chapter XX” inside) for the WIP ask meme?

Welp, I forgot I hadn't answered these! Apologies! (These are from this WIP ask meme.)

s5pAU is my short way of referring to “S5 Pregnancy AU,” and it's… what it says on the tin! Sort of. Basically, the entire ridiculous concept is “what if CJ got pregnant at the end of S4?” (Around Zoey's kidnapping, in this case.) It's 11 chapters so far, with only a bit of 12 written… And it was my main WIP for the better part of 2023, even if I took months here and there.

(I had written a lot of unneccesary backstory that I've tried my best to summarize into the important parts. It's still long, sorry. It's just been the WIP, for most of 2023. It's sitting at over 76k words already!)

I have a note on my phone with a list of most ideas I kept having while rewatching the show last year. This one was part of it, and it jumped at me for how ridiculous it is. I recall having a mental image of a scene that was too OOC, but could work, around late February? Early March? It's definitely not a realistic idea, but there was something about some of her moments in S5 that I felt would be interesting (and not that different) to explore under new circumstances.

Before I started writing it properly in June, I did a few outlines (two detailed ones, in March and April), with the idea of having 1-2 chapters per semester, maybe some interludes here and there. I also started a playlist with ✨ vibes ✨, but though I thought a lot about it… I wasn't really writing it. Until I just needed to get so much stuff out of my head.

If I had to say, I think it is following the outline, but also not… Because I am being far more detailed than I intended to be, the show's actual timeline is a mess (not that the one I tried to create is better, but at least I know what month it is), and some story beats happened differently, hopefully still organically.

Anyway. This is boring. It still doesn't have a proper title, not that I'd change the folder's name (not really); it's not done (haven't written anything new since November, and it goes for everything); I could see this becoming some sort of series/universe by the nature of it.

Snippet! The part I always feel most self-conscious about. (Can't remember if this is the snippet I posted on the server, forever ago.)

“What’s up, Daniel? I was about to… Can’t it wait?” “It could,” he conceded with a dejected expression. One that told her this was hard to broach. “I didn’t even notice the time.” C.J. didn’t move, awaiting whatever it was that he was going to say. “And well?” She moved a stray strand of hair from her eyes. She couldn’t wait until her hair finally grew out, that was for sure. “You planning to stand there all night?” “I have to go, C.J. I have to go back to my post.” Whatever retort she had thought up for the first part died on her lips when she heard the second part. Her heart sank, and she chided herself. The second she had believed this day to be ordinary had been her first mistake: once you perceived anything as ordinary, you should know the universe would make it so it was anything but.

[homestuckdailyweekly]

Homestuck Daily - Week 4/End of Month 1 - 5/11/2024

Today marks the end of the first month of my real time Homestuck reread. If my math is correct (and that is a big if), I have 83 months of reading Homestuck left. Based on some more math, I first read Homestuck roughly 50 months ago. I don't know what point I am making with this, except for the fact that time is long and strange.

If I am being honest, I am finding it a hard time to write this update, because it feels like basically nothing happened this entire week. It probably doesn't help that I've been playing Hades 2, an extremely fun and good game, all week. So everything I have to say about this week of Homestuck is colored by an implicit "And I read this instead of playing Hades 2 in that exact moment." Hell, I could be playing Hades 2 right now, but I am writing this instead.

In case you haven't noticed, dear reader that definitely exists, I don't exactly know what I'm doing with this one here. I know, after I worked so hard on developing a strict and rewarding format these past few weeks, I'm throwing it all away to ramble here and now. The thing you need to know about me, though, is that I make terrible decisions. Always have, always will. I promise I'll get to a point, but we'll get there on my own time.

Where was I. Oh right. 50 months ago. Valentines Day 2020. That was the day I began my first Homestuck read through. My girlfriend at the time- she would break up with me a few months later for non-Homestuck related reasons- was a Homestuck fan, and had tried and failed to convince me to read the comic before. We even spent a date night playing friend sim, which I tried my best not to be confused by. Well, Valentines day came, and I decided I would finally relent to my girlfriend's recommendation, and I spent the day reading Homestuck in my college dorm room. And when I started, I did not stop. Not for a long time. You see, it was a Friday, a Friday very early in the semester, in fact. I had nothing I needed to do and 3 whole days where I did not need to treat myself as a human being. I denied myself food, water, sleep, and human dignity as I read Homestuck, all the while texting my girlfriend my reactions. I think the only time I took a break that weekend was on Saturday, to play in a Vampire the Requiem game I had recently joined. I don't know exactly how far through Homestuck I had gotten when I attended the game- but it was further than a person should be less than 24 hours after starting the webcomic.

Which brings me to my point. How quickly into my binge did I get to the parts of this comic that has now taken me a month to reach? An hour? Less than that? I don't know and am unwilling to do the work to find that out. I don't think I had gone all-in on Homestuck at this point, but I do remember being entertained by the Sylladex fuckery that was going on. I found it intriguing, this little puzzle of mechanics, the audience and John struggling against an unintuitive game mechanic that refused to make things easy. That was 50 months ago. So far on my read through, all I really feel as I get to each new gag about Sylladexes is "Oh, today is just this, huh." A part of me is sad and disappointed these gags aren't landing for me in the way they once had. A part of me is worried what else in this comic will suffer with the addition of time. But then I got to the last page of this week's updates, page 137, a loading animation for SBURB set to Sburban Jungle by Michael Guy Bowman, and that worry melts away.

Sburban Jungle is a song that lights my imagination ablaze with visions of epic machinations. I am the kind of person who listens to music not just because I like a song, but because that song puts images in my head that I can't tear myself from exploring as fully as I can. Even back when I was a kid in highschool, I would spend my bus rides home listing to my ipod, imagining grand adventures and fantastic scenes set to whatever music I was listening to. Sburban Jungle brings me back to those days, I think. That feeling that I find so hard to describe right now is part of why I love Homestuck, I think. It is a story about 4 kids, friends, playing a game together. A game where anything can be possible. A game where music brings actions scenes of epic and mythical scale- like the kind I would think about on the bus ride home- to life. That game hasn't started yet, we are still playing a game I'd like to call "Inventory Management if the Inventory Management hated you". But we'll get there eventually.

I have read Homestuck in realtime for 1 month. I will continue this for 83 more months. There'll be many months where I read nothing, and I'll need to think up something to post during those weeks. There'll be months where I'll struggle to keep everything I want to discuss in individual coherent posts. Homestuck is a land of contrasts, and I am going to experience those contrasts in the fullness of time's length. This is a terrible idea, but those are my favorite kinds.

Now that this is written and done with, time to play some more Hades 2.

[thatonemarvelchick]

Apricity - Three

Apricity lead Peter into her tiny apartment, worry instnantly springing into her mind. Had she left any clothes on the floor this morning? Had she done last nights dishes? Was the milk in the fridge still bad, or had she thrown that out? 

Peter seemed to notice none of this, none of the slight clutter her apartment held. She lead him to the living room, where she had a small couch, an old coffee table, and a shabby TV set up, nothing more. Turning on the overhead lamp, she walked over to the window to open the curtains, letting the last of the sunlight in. The building had no AC, and got unreasonably hot, so she often had the windows open when she was home in hopes of cooling the place down. She did that now, scampering to pick up any leftover mess that she’d left behind that morning when she was rushing out the door. She left Peter to his own devices, to hopefully get settled and look at the textbooks more than the dust that was piling up on almost every surface. 

When she turned back to look at Peter though, he seemed completely lost in thought. Like the apartment could’ve been in any state and he would’ve have noticed. His eyes were fixed on the rug uner the table, and he was twirling the straps of his bag over and over around his fingers. 

“Peter?” Apricity asked, walking over to where he was standing. She was worried, worried that maybe this would seem to be too much. Would he think she was hitting on him? Was he uncomfortable? The arrangement so far had kept them so distanced, kept the boundaries so firm and so far that she’d never had to worry about what Peter thought about her, only what he thought about her answers for the homework for that week. 

But this was new, this was undiscovered territory for the two of them. What if it was something Peter wouldn’t want?

His eyes snapped to hers as that thought popped into her head, almost as if he could hear it himself. “Yeah, yeah I’m all good. Just right here?” He gestured to the couch, seeming to be pulled out of his own thoughts and trance. 

She nodded, sitting down on the opposite end and opening up her bag. As she sifted through it, pulling out notebooks and textbooks, she couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander to the boy sitting beside her. The couch was small enough that if she shifted an inch to the right, their knees would be brushing. 

She didn’t know much about Peter. She knew that he was smart. More brilliant than anyone she’d ever met. She gathered that he was from New York, both from the accent and from small references he would occasionally make. She knew that he was what could be defined as a nerd, that he loved Star Wars and Sci-Fi and the Avengers. She knew that he didn’t talk to many other people, or any other people. She chalked it up to his awkwardness, the way he would stumble around his words sometimes, the way he fidgeted with whatever he could get his hands on. All these little things she knew, but nothing more. He never shared anything more. 

After an hour and a half of studying, cramming, repeating phrases, and often asking Peter questions and aswering his, Apricity felt as if her brain was fried. It was finals week, so they were trying to go over everything they had learned the entire semester. They were about halfway through. 

“Ok, ok, I need a break.” She sighed, putting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. She was sure she looked like a mess at the moment, having raked her hands through her hair multiple times and rubbed at her eyes more than enough to smudge what little mascara she’d put on the day before. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Peter nodded, running his own hand through his curls. They were completely loose now, not gelled back like the day she’d met him. She found that of all the ways he styled his hair, she liked it best when it was free and down. Though she wasn’t sure she was allowed to have a favorite hairstyle of his anyways. 

“Yes, yes please. Water would be great.” He sounded tired, as she was sure she did too. She looked at the time, noticing that it was around nine now. Of course they were both exhausted, they both had an 8 am class and a full schedule on Tuesdays. 

Apricity walked into the kitchen and came back with two bottles of water, handing one over to Peter. “It’s getting pretty late, you don’t have to stay any longer if you don’t want to. I can probably get through the next two units by myself.” She offered. Her and Peter had never spent this much uninterrupted time together.

He seemed to pause, taking a long drink of his water while battling with himself. He did that a lot, anytime they would talk about something not strictly school related, or they had been together for what he deemed to be too long. It was as if he was constantly tyring to determine what was ok to share with her and what was not. 

“No… No it’s ok.” He finally decided. “Honestly, I think we’re doing pretty good right now, and I think we can speed through these next two.” He glanced over at her, catching her eyes only for a moment. “If you want, of course. If not I can go.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, no honestly I would like to go over the rest of it. I just want to be as best prepared as I can for tomorrow. I can’t fail this test.” She heard Peter give her the chuckle he gave any time she mentioned being worried about grades or tests or classes. 

“Apricity, honestly, you’ve taught me more tonight than I could’ve taught you. And you grasp these concepts better than anyone in that class. You have the highest grades, you’re smart. When are you going to start letting yourself believe that?”

She felt slightly taken aback by the comment. Peter and her never talked about anything deep, not this this subject was particularly deep, but it struck a chord with her. They’d avoided compliments, other than the occasional ‘Nice’ on a homework project or praise on the grades they’d gotten on tests. And while this fell under that same academic umberalla, it felt more personal this time.

Peter seemed to notice this too, because he quickly looked away and began fidgeting with his fingers. “I mean, I’m just saying. Anyways, if you want we can get started on Unit three now, I think I’m ready to dive back in.”

She was glad he’d saved her the trouble of trying to answer to the compliment, to the question. When are you going to let yourself believe that? She knew she was smart to some degree, you don’t get into MIT by being stupid, but she’d never considered herself to the same degree Peter apparently did. 

“Yeah, let’s get started on unit three.” She agreed, brushing the topic aside. She leaned in, over her textbooks, and tried to switch her brain back into math mode. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t stop remembering the fact that their legs were still only one inch apart. 

One inch to close that gap, physically. But how much to close the gap that went unspoken? She tried to shoo the thought away. Their current arrangment worked. Feelings were messy, not that she could even assume Peter would see her in that light anyway. What if he had some loyal, beautiful girlfriend back at home. And that was why he was uncomfortbale getting close to her, because he didn’t want to give her the wrong impressions? Peter was a gorgeous boy, no matter what way you spun it. It was unlikely that he had no one else waiting on him, and even if he didn’t that he would be interested in her in the first place. 

Apricity felt silly thinking about any of it, being concerned by any of it. It wouldn’t matter anyway, because nothing would ever become of these thoughts. She would never make the move to close that one inch gap, and neither would he, because they were both comfortable in their arrangement. Because they both preferred being alone, being kept to themselves. Soon enough, she’d chased away the thoughts completely. 

Until, of course, Peter scooted over, just one inch.

Next Chapter

[creune]

Long time no ramble, huh

I'm back by unpopular demand and with exactly zero brainpower

And hell, if anyone would have told me how much petty shit you have to do when creating a card game I probably don't try to do that for class

Okay, that's a lie, I absolutely would have

But still

My entire weekend is going to be an unbalanced and insane amounts of sprite making (for my partner's game), card art creation for my own game, art for an unrelated class and studying like crazy for the tests next week

It doesn't sound that bad until you realize I have, only for myself, over sixty images to create

Realistically, not doing all of them this weekend

But you can bet your ass I will try anyway, while trying to understand the difference between different operating system generations, AI search tech and other stuff like that

I'm creating my own hell, as usual

And most likely for nothing, as the unrelated project is to be submitted to teachers who don't seem to grasp the concept of a manual

Or coding for that matter

But that aside, it's actually the chillest semester I've had so far

Lots of projects, few tests, only one 8am class

I know hell is coming but I'm enjoying the peace while it lasts

In other news, I've upgraded into a DM. So far I've had two players:

My partner, chronic minmaxer, troll of the century, theater kid of gay proportions, smartest and dumbest player at the exact same second, with a knack for evil characters and one shotting bosses

And a dude who we don't even know the actual name of (a friend of a dormmate that never showed up so we legit just don't even know the guy at all) who knows the recipe for explosives by heart and tried to calculate the ph level of magic acid and wrote himself out of the roleplay part of the adventure entirely. Also is never free so no session for a while now

It's been an experience, in ways I wouldn't have expected

In both a "please stop sniffing dust" way and in a way of learning to be more social on my end, even if sometimes that has to include sentences as "no, you can't have a carpet bomb as a lvl2 character" or "if you throw a decapitated head at a [insert non-violent type npc here], they won't wanna talk to you"

I love the chaos

I've also had some other stuff creep up on me that reset some progress I made in my behaviors and just becoming less depressed, but I managed to overcome it with the help of my partner. At least mostly. But hey, could be worse. Could have entirely destroyed myself. That would have sucked

I have a lot of things I wanna do and for all of that I need myself so, can't afford to lose me

For example, the goddamn card game that is hell incarnate

It's the unholy abomination child of yugioh with inscription, getting fucked sideways by slay the spire

I'm both excited to actually make it and hate everything about it

I have way too many shit going on as usual and I'm 100% sure not a single other soul will care but

It's a game I wanna make so I'll make it, even if for myself (for class, I am making a demo version cause there's no way in hell I make the whole thing in 4-5 weeks)

Only issue is that writing had to be sidelined again

But oh well

Passing my classes is a bit more important

And when I write, I can actually say I'm proud of what I'm doing

I am happy with my work on all fronts

Which is new and weird but also just

It's so freaking great

I can fuckin smile when I make my silly lil stories or cards or whatever

Life's good y'all

It really gets good

And I'm so damn happy it does

It's so fun

It's exciting

It's awesome

Yeah that's it

I just wanted to make a lil update on life

Cause I'm actually feeling happy consistently

And I felt like sharing that

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SNOWFALL SEASON 5 Franklin (Part 3)

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Quirky Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Slow Burn. Fluffy. Use of the n-word. 

Summary: You have a very wild imagination. But what happens when imagination bleeds into reality? Will you rise above it, or crumble and fall? (Part 1), (Part 2).

Word count: 6,168k / Comment and Like to show some love. It's oh so appreciated and encourages me to write more for ya'll!

There were ways of passing time. You’d mastered a few of them. This one was called lifting your head to take in the scenery. The surrounding buildings were a mixture of modern and traditional, with colorful murals and graffiti adorning the walls, as the sun beat down on the bustling campus, alive with students rushing to and from classes, groups of friends chatting and laughing, and the sound of music playing from a nearby boombox. Every now and then if a beat came on that you liked you would rock your shoulders. Colorful clothes and big hair blew in the warm breeze. 1985 was a hell of a year. A time of carefree youth and endless possibilities. Today the campus was alive with energy. With the palm trees swaying in the wind, a smell of fresh cut grass filled the air. Everyone appeared to have the vibe except for you. There among the sea of students, you sat, hot, miserable, and waiting.

Why did William Anderson, or better known by Will to his peers in finance class, have to be your last resort! Given the opportunity, you would have called anyone else on the entire planet before reaching out to him. 

Unfortunately you didn’t know that many people since you often called yourself being slightly anti-social, and his grandfather, from what you knew at least, was the only black man in all of L.A who owned his own hardware store. The only place to get what you needed for a cut of the price, and few questions asked as to why you would need such an item.  

As you watched a group of people pass by, you decided you would think about Will’s looks, and how you hated his stupid earring. A single diamond in one ear, and he swore on his life it was real. Will had always been a boaster in whatever capacity, but even more when it came to his appearance. He was a lighter brown completion, and to you he looked exactly like Kurtis Blow, even going as far as having a similar fashion style in some regard. 

You’d known Will from the old neighborhood you grew up in. He bugged you then and now. It wasn’t that he was unattractive by any means, he really just annoyed the fuck out of you. He thought all his talk about sex and whining and dining would make you like him, but It turned out to have the complete opposite effect, which made the banter between you two comical at best, especially in class where he undoubtedly had his biggest audience to try you.

It all played out the exact same way though. Always him trying to push up and you rejecting him, only to become even more put off then you previously were upon each encounter. If you were thinking of a scale from one to ten, it would be a high twenty five. If anything, the asshole was persistent in his pursuit, so you could appreciate the determination. You only wished it was directed at someone other than you. Still, just like most of the occurrences in your eventful existence, you never got the attention you wanted from the person you wanted it from, a.k.a Franklin Saint, the man of your dreams, and the same man who probably hadn’t really paid you any mind until being paired for the end of the semester project. But whatever, you’d take being ignored by Franklin over ever considering giving Will the time of day. Young Kurtis Blow just wasn’t it. Yet, the irony was that out of everyone you could have realistically reached out to, you’d paged him. In the end you had no one but yourself to blame for whatever would occur during the encounter if his stupid self ever decided to show up! You smacked your teeth and shifted your sitting position annoyed that your ass was now sore after being on it too long. 

This was a mistake and you were certain you would regret it later on. You weren’t even sure how you’d exactly gotten Will’s number in the first place! All you could conclude was that either he stuck it in one of your books or you both worked as partners on one occasion that forced you to exchange information. Apparently it wasn’t an important enough event to find itself in your cabinet of memories, so you wouldn't dwell. One thing you could be sure of, you’d kill him if he didn’t show up in the next five minutes! With a roll of your eyes your leg bounced up and down, eager from waiting and getting uncomfortable in the black sweats you had on. His ass was late. Real late.There was no way traffic was that bad! You turned your neck this way and that to get the crook out when you heard that annoying voice travel against the air.

“Hey, there you are Cutie Pie!” 

Your eyes narrowed on Will taking his sweet ass time with the half ass jog he took up the hill to make his way over to you. 

“Been looking all around. Didn’t see you. Sorry it took so long.” 

You wanted to smack him. He had this dumb ass smile on his face that said a lot without him needing to say much. He knew where the spot had been. Really he’d made you wait in the hot sun on purpose. But instead of arguing about it you stood up from your perch on the ledge and grinned doing a wonderful job at keeping your composure. After all, what you had planned would require much of your strength that couldn’t be wasted on William Anderson. “That's okay. Maybe I wasn’t as specific as I could have been in the directions.” You were, you basically drew the nigga a whole map, but you didn’t say that. “Anyway. Thanks for meeting up with me. I know you took a risk coming here.” You pulled on the strings of your hoodie and looked around settling into another Flash Drive Whoopi moment without even realizing. Took a risk coming here? No. That didn’t sound completely suspicious and weird. 

Will squinted his eyes and titled his head confused. “Huh?” 

When you remained silent he looked around, then back at you. 

“Whatever it's coo, no problem. You know I always got you cutie pie.” 

He did some shit with his lips that made you wanna gag as he looked you up and down like a long awaited snack he was finally given permission to have. Somebody must have lied. You watched him tilt his head and look you over with what seemed a little more attention this time. His eyes lingered longer. 

“Can I ask why you're dressed like that tho’?” 

You hadn’t moved an inch. You really weren’t in the mood for much explanation. You were hot, probably dehydrated and the crease between your boobage was drenched in sweat. Good thinking on your part for choosing a darker color. The outfit at large served a greater purpose and only you alone could understand its significance.“Dressed like what,” you decided to ask. 

Will scratched the top of his head. “Well for starters it’s a pretty nice day today, but you got this big ass hoodie on in 80 degree weather. A baseball cap, so I can't really see any of that pretty hair. And the sunglasses are kinda giving,” He paused. “You know I'm not really sure what it’s actually giving. Homeless ex hollywood star maybe?” 

Was he tryna be funny? You sighed and pulled off the dark shades to stare at him. The outfit was something you planned the night before you’d decided that you needed to try and retrieve your most precious possession. Sure you could have sat at home twiddling your fingers on false hope, but you couldn’t dismiss your true nature. The nature that unequivocally said you were a woman of action. No, it wasn’t that. You were a realist and really you couldn’t wait around. “Will, first of all. Never question a girl's style. Maybe I like this style. Maybe I feel good in this style. Or maybe it's just a one of them days type style, or-” 

He put his hands up in a laugh to wave them at you in surrender. “Alright, okay okay, ma’ bad Cutie Pie. Damn. Calm down. It’s not that deep. Just curious is all.” 

You put back on your shades and looked around again. “Anyway, have you seen him at all?” 

Will frowned. “Seen who?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “You know. Franklin. Franklin Saint.”

Will scrunched his nose like he smelled something stinky all of a sudden. “Man hell naw,” He shouted, “I haven't. Why you wanna know bout’ that nigga anyway?” 

One of your eyebrows went up as you watched his chest puff up. He sounded super defensive. Like hearing Franklin’s name pissed him off something terrible. Anyway, you took note. “Don't worry. That's not important. Not like you didn’t know but we are working on the project so just thought you would have seen him around. Anywho. You brought what I requested?” 

Will licked his lips, still visibly disturbed by the mention of Franklin. “Uh, yeah sure did.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small paper bag. “Don't forget I need these back,” he said handing it over to you. “They ain't exactly all the way paid for. Granddad might think I'm tryna rob him, but I don’t get paid till Thursday, so.” 

You let off an irritated grumble. Could this man be any more cheap? But his diamond earring was real though. Rigggggght. You shook your head over it, and him. “How much?” 

“$4.32. Cutie Pie.”

You cringed at the pet name he chose to call you, finally allowing yourself to notice and went into your pocket to pull out five dollars to give it to him. The one time he heard you jamming to Cutie Pie by One Way was the day he never looked back. The nickname seemed to stick, at least for him. Maybe if someone else used it to describe you, it wouldn't bother you so much. “Just go on ahead and keep the rest. Do somethin’ nice for yourself.” Of Course you said this as sarcastically as possible. Perhaps you’d forgotten who you were up against. All Will did was nod and fold up the money to place in his back pocket as he looked back up at you and grinned. 

“Aye, so why I got you here. We ever gonna talk about gettin’ together? You know I ain’t gon’ wait forever girl. So many honies wanna chance at ya man.” 

With a quick push of your sleeve, you peered down beyond your sunglasses at your invisible wrist watch. “Oh whoa lookie there! How'd that happen? Time do be flyin’ don’t it? Imma be late too, darn.” You turned on your heels and began to make your way toward the campus doors.“Bye Will, thanks a lot! See ya in class.” 

“Wait! You for real,” He called after you. “How you just gon’ run off on me like that. What about our chill night girl? I need actual dates and times!” 

“Yeah. Don't hold your breath!” You shouted before disappearing inside the doors of the campus building. You hoped that he wouldn’t be bold enough to follow. Ofcourse Will had to be one of those unpredictable types, so you couldn't be certain what he'd do. 

Unwilling to take any chances you hurried down the hall toward the ladies room on the far end. Taking a peek around the corner wall, you searched for Will in the faces of students but did not spot him anywhere. With a breath of relief you turned your attention to another hallway. The one that would lead to him. Finance wasn’t his only class. Another thing that came up in conversation the night you two danced in the rain. There was a class offered for advanced learning. Corporate Finance? The class you decided to pass on that Franklin undoubtedly signed up for. You shrugged. Why the hell not. What would a sneak preview hurt? 

As you walked down towards the classroom, your heart was pounding with excitement and nerves. When you arrived, you peeked through the small window on the door. It took a second to spot him but once you had your heart skipped a beat. Franklin was there sitting at a desk. Two other people sat on either side of him and he was laughing. God, the smile on that man could light up the room. It actually did. At Least for you. Seeing him like this, in this element of learning, made your heart flutter. Franklin’s intelligence had to be one of his greatest qualities. His looks were just a bonus.You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, but the happiness was short-lived when you saw a girl come up to him, batting her eyelashes. What the hell! Who was she! You shook your head, you couldn’t really be jealous now could you? It wasn’t like he was actually YOUR man. You glared, fuck that, yes he was. You claimed him some time ago, even if he didn’t know it. You watched the interaction between them before you couldn’t force yourself to give it one more minute. You huffed and turned to leave. You needed to head toward the library to make good time. That class would let out soon enough. 

…

When you got to your destination you peered up to read the name over top of the entrance as you pushed your hood off your head and took off the sunglasses. This chosen location. Chosen location? Why the hell did you feel like a private detective all of a sudden? Whelp, why not make it official then…it is Monday the 16th, 3:30PM waiting for subject 3456, Franklin Saint to arrive. It all sounded so crazy, like one of the old black and white mystery movies you enjoyed. Romantic in a weird way but still very dramatic with a lot of twists and turns. If only your life were really a movie you could yell, cut! Fix whatever scene you didn’t vibe with. You could name a few right off the top of your head. The date and time would stay edged in your mind forever, no argument there. It was the date and time you'd both decided to meet up at the library the night you worked on the project and came to a standstill. Initially it happened for the project, you being there, but it had suddenly turned into a whole blown out personal mission for you. All because you decided to be in a rush. 

As you walked through the large wooden doors, you were immediately hit with a wave of serenity as you slid  the sunglasses in your large pocket. They’d taken months on the new construction plan, but wow had it paid off. The hustle and bustle of the outside world faded away as you stepped inside, surrounded by the quiet hum of students studying. A sense of awe washed over, this nerdy part of you that hid deeply behind a calm outer core began to emerge. Tall ceilings, lined with shelves upon shelves of books, seemed to stretch on forever, and the smell of old paper and leather filled your nostrils along with a brimming distinction of fresh paint, pulling you into the mystical wonderland of storytelling. 

Your admiration kicked in. You never published anything, too shy to give yourself to the world, but having a love for the creative word made you greatly appreciate books and those who did have the courage to put themselves out there. But it wasn't just the books that amazed you. The quiet atmosphere was soothing.The library itself was a work of art. The new architecture, breathtaking. The natural light that flooded in through the large windows made the space feel warm and inviting. People were scattered throughout, some studying at small tables, while others lounged in cozy reading nooks.

As you roamed through the aisles, your eyes scanned the titles and covers of books. Books you could feel yourself wanting to get lost in the stories of, as you imagined the countless adventures within the many pages. Movies had been one thing. A favorite pastime. But a good book was like finding buried treasure. A whole new world, surrounded by endless possibilities. That too was why you wrote. And with that truth came a spring of hope. Could Franklin possibly see it that way? That was all Saint’s Palace was meant to be. Purely a creative and literary work of fantasy at the end of the day. 

Who the hell were you kidding? 

Yeah. Maybe that could have been the case if it had been written, simply. There was way too much detail compacted into those seventeen chapters. That fact threw all hope out the window. Saint and Juicy very much read like real people. So much so that you copied small bits from the lives of their muses, yours and Franklin’s. That of course wasn't entirely fact, even if you didn't know the details of Franklin's actual job, you knew damn well there was no way he was some high end drug lord like Saint. That part was made up entirely of your own imagination, but that didn't matter as long as it read that way. You made it sound pretty convincing. A true criminal might be proud of the accuracy. 

When you made the trip to the front desk, checking the time to make sure you had enough before he got there, the librarian greeted your arrival with a warm smile as thick specks perched on the edge of her long nose. She wore this dress that reminded you of a flourishing garden with tight brown Shirley Temple curls sprouting out all over her head. 

“Hello. Do you need any help,” she asked. 

“Uh, no no thank you. Just waiting for someone.” You manovered your head trying to locate the study area with no success. They must have changed it after the reconstruction. “Uh, actually. Can you tell me where the place we can sit and work is gonna be? I hardly ever come in here and this place is actually pretty big,” you chuckled. Remaining calm was the only way to get thorough. 

The librarian smiled a second time. “Not at all. You are gonna walk that path on the red carpet and take a right once you come to the end of it. When you get to the Self Help section you’ll see that large area with the tables. That's usually where students sit since it’s by the computers.” 

You mentally locked in the instructions, nodded and thanked her before heading towards the red carpeted path, feeling a sense of excitement oddly as you made your way to your stakeout spot. Just because he had the power to completely ruin your life didn't mean you didn't want to see him up close. The brief peek you got from outside the classroom was only a preview. To be fair, seeing him held no merit anyway. The man was a constant in your mind. Almost like a brain tumor you couldn't cut free. You'd gotten so good with details that you no longer needed a picture to describe his facial features to a tee!

That made you think of the last couple days. That very fact of the matter was why you should have called off of work. As soon as you stood behind the counter of the busy café that first night, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The fast pace of the restaurant and your thoughts running at the same speed was altogether a disastrous combo. Franklin and the notebook were heavy on your mind. Neither would let you focus. You couldn’t think of one without the other. And as a result, you were messing up orders left and right, much to the annoyance of your fellow employees. Call it absent-mindedness. You just couldn't shut off your emotions and focus on the job. Every time you tried, images of him reading the story would pop off in your mind, making it impossible to concentrate.The truth was, your brain was consumed with thoughts of Franklin Saint, constantly. Dare you call it an obsession? Of Course you had no solid evidence, but your gut told you that you hadn't lost the notebook in the rain the night you both worked on the finance project, although you tried over and over to convince yourself that maybe that was still possible. 

Friday you managed. Saturday you cracked only slightly. When Sunday rolled around you’d completely lost it! It didn’t help that you working at the cafe would be the very same weekend Candy would be going upstate to watch Troy’s football game. At Least on a bad day like the ones you had, there would be an ear at home ready to listen. Her being gone the entire weekend and a few days after that knowing Candy and Troy, would then leave you completely alone to play around in your brain about different ways Franklin could confront you about writing all those provocative encounters. Oh how your imagination could run wild with the different ways in which he could do it. The further apart the days spread out, the worse it got. Come Monday, you decided to take a stand. Either that or go completely crazy. 

Your own mind would someday be the death of you. 

Just as instructed you had come to the opening of the student study area. With a glance over your shoulder you took a few steps back and found yourself in a different aisle then the one of Self Help. You made a mental note to back track on the section when you had some free time. You figured any help would be something. You walked a few more paces trying to find the perfect view. 

Once you’d stumbled upon the literature section that closed you in, you smiled. There, some of your favorite authors' names on the spines of the books sat all in one place. Such a vast collection of lovely masterpieces, and you would have immersed yourself, if not for the task at hand. A glance up at the clock and you peered off to get a clear view of the study area from where you hid. 

Your gaze bounced from table to table trying to decide which one he’d sit at, when something from the corner of your eye caught your attention. It was him! Franklin.You shoved your hand in your pocket and put your sunglasses back on. As you pulled up the hood on the hoodie you watched him walk toward the tables. 

He picked the one closest to the window, sat and pulled books and notebooks from his yellow backpack. Your interest peaked as you tried to see if the one specific to Whoopi Goldberg was among them. The one that belonged to you. Nothing so far that you could tell. You observed him as he flipped through his notes, his pen moving quickly across the paper. Then he stopped writing suddenly and sat the pen on the table, only to stand to his feet and walk away.  

As you tried to be inconspicuous and weave your way through the bookshelves like a skilled psychopath, you did so with a mix of excitement and nerves. How could this be dangerous and thrilling all at once? You carefully watched as Franklin browsed, running his fingers along the spines of the books as he studied the titles. Ironically the finance section wasn’t that far from the self help section. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a flutter in your stomach. You ducked behind a bookshelf as Franklin turned in your direction. Your heart sped up and you waited a moment before looking in the path which he walked. 

Franklin. Franklin Saint. Saint… 

Saints Palace. It was one of your longer stories. Well yeah. You dedicated a whole notebook. Seventeen Chapters didn’t seem like a lot, but when you said you were very detailed, you’d made up for the low amount with description. That meant, if he was in fact reading, it would take him a little while to actually get through everything, and you knew with his busy schedule, it might take a while. If only you could get it back in your possession before he got too far, you might just save yourself. 

The plan was a bit risky, and although you looked suspicious as all hell, you were going for it. If you spotted the notebook, you could present some sort of distraction just long enough to get him away from the table, and then run and grab it! Yes. It would work. It had to. In a quick motion you pulled Will’s ten dollar mini binoculars from the paper bag and pressed forward to set them at your eyes. Your vision zoomed in instantly and focused on the table, honing in on the books he’d taken out. Especially the notebooks. 

Franklin picked up a textbook and flipped through the pages. He looked focused and absorbed in his reading. You took in his handsome features. What he wore. His color today was black. He was completely engrossed in his work. Brows furrowed in concentration.

All of a sudden, a pang of regret. You wished you could be sitting across from him, lost in a book together. That night had gone so well. Maybe he would have asked you out to lunch, having nothing to do with class and projects, but just a way to get to know you. That might be the start of something. Friendship sure, but maybe something more. But you would never know. That would forever remain a what if.  

You thought about how you could have continued it; Saint’s Palace. Saint would have found Juicy in a place similar to the new constructed library. Except this time there would be no one in it. She would be there alone, looking for information, some kind, any kind to get Saint out of the mess he’d created for himself, for the both of them. Then out of nowhere she would turn to find him standing there unexpectedly, with those eyes filled with the same passion and desire they always had for her. Juicy would lift her chin, probably in an effort to hold back her tears. She never could hide how much she missed him. The urge to hug him, filling her up, but she does nothing but look at him until she utters softly, ‘You came back Saint. Why?’ He would move, close the space between them until he lowers his gaze on her. A rosloue fades. Only for her, and he says what he should have the night he walked out on the only woman he ever loved like that, ‘I can’t do this without you babe…’ The rest of it would be his hands exploring her, hands that undoubtedly owed her. Her own hand would slide down lower and lower until she felt the bulge behind his dark jeans calling to her, eager and ready to fill her up. 

Like always…

Saint never did disappoint. 

Damn. You felt around your pockets. You should write that down. You stopped searching. For what tho’! The notebook was no longer in your possession. Even if you wanted to continue the story you couldn't. Not now. You'd like to think that's what he was thinking when it came to the finance project. ‘I can't do this without you…’ but honestly, he appeared to be doing just fine on his own. 

You continued to observe Franklin from a distance. You watched him flip through pages, scribble notes in his textbook, and occasionally take a break to stretch. You were starting to get lost in his movements, in him, feeling like you could watch him all day, but you knew it was way past time to leave with all the different feelings that began to fester in your chest. He didn’t have the notebook. At Least, not with him. 

For a brief moment you wanted to throw your hands up and brave yourself over to the table, but of course you didn’t do that. The uncertainty and judgment had you scared shitless. You liked Franklin. Sadly, his opinion of you did matter a great deal. 

You were back at square one, all over again. So much for your elaborate plan.

You shoved the binoculars back into your pocket and made your way out, careful not to draw any attention to yourself. 

With a defeated breath, you removed the sunglasses and snatched the hood from your head to push through the large doors and make your way back home.

…

The last time you saw the place where you laid your head in such a disastrous state was, well, never. You had a roommate, and Candy didn't play that shit. You wouldn’t say the girl was OCD per say, but she was sort of a neat freak. You tried to imagine what her expression would be if she could see the apartment. There the aftermath sat in its full destructive glory. You stood in the middle of your trashed living room closing the front door behind as there came the frustration and disbelief of what you managed to do. Yeah, Candy would have a whole bitch fit, for sure. Exhausted and angry, ready to relax, only to find the apartment in shambles, like a tornado had swept through, had been the last straw for the day. Why couldn’t you just catch some sort of break. It was clear what had taken place, but that didn’t muddle the shock of it all. 

Personally you hoped that while away on the mission, a cleaning fairy would fly her way over and get the job done. Stupid fairytales, you’d been duped like always. After Candy said her goodbyes and left with Troy for the weekend, in a burst of utter panic you had torn the entire place apart looking for the Notebook.

There really was no miracle waiting for you at this point. 

In the moment when your adrenaline had been high, it seemed the thing to do, but not in the present moment. In the present moment you felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. You had zero energy to do anything. 

A plop down onto the couch cushion closest to the door, and a crippling defeat shaped within your brown features. How could you have lost it? Not just your mind, but Whoopi! It was something that meant the world to you, something that you couldn't bear to be without. A safe place no doubt and your deepest secret thing just for you. 

You closed your eyes for what had to be the one hundredth time to try to retrace your steps. They somehow without fail all led back to Franklin’s hideaway on the outside of the city. For a moment you thought about breaking into his place, but advised yourself against going to jail. With Candy out of town, there would be no one to get you out, and you wouldn’t dare call your mama. ‘Baby you are grown. If you put yourself there, God tryna teach you a lesson. And I don't intervene on God's time.’ That meant yo ass was gonna sit there, comfortably. 

A shake of the head and it was back to your dilemma…

You let out a frustrated cry and pressed forward to continue the search. It had to be somewhere close! Usually when a person lost something it was right under their noses. You just weren’t looking hard enough. You ran through the kitchen, throwing pots and pans out of cabinets and rummaging through drawers. But still, no luck. It never dawned on you that the kitchen might be the last place it would be, then again, you had some strange hiding places for certain things, so.

After the kitchen you would have searched every nook and cranny of the apartment, but one time was enough. It was still nowhere to be found, and you had looked everywhere on the first go. For hours throughout the three days Candy was away, you’d scouted every drawer, cabinet, and closet. By the time you tired yourself out, clothes were scattered across the floor, papers laid out everywhere on the coffee table, and cushions overturned on the couch. 

You took a good look at all the mess. Better grab yourself a broom and mop and get ta’ cleaning Merry Poppin’, lest you face the wrath of Candince Brown.

A groan escaped and you stomped your way back to the kitchen to do a quick reverse, putting the pots you’d just thrown back in their proper place. You moved back to the living room and did the same thing with the sofa cushions before you caught on to the silence in the apartment. You had this thing about silence, you could only take so much of it. Moving to the cassette player you pulled out one of your mixtapes. You never labeled anything since all the songs you chose were great. Popping it in with the press of play, it was the Jackson 5 that filled the room first. Some new found energy and excitement, you couldn’t resist the urge to dance.

As you swept and dusted, you swayed your hips and sang along to the lyrics of the songs that played to Luther Vandross, Gladys Knight and the Pips and The Temptations. The catchy tunes and soulful voices of the artists transported you to a different time and place. In your mind, you were no longer in the small cluttered apartment, but a glamorous disco club. Lost in the music, you didn't even notice time passing. The sky had gone dark, but the music didn’t stop. 

You twirled and spun, the broom serving as the dance partner. The lyrics of the song echoing in your head, 'And the beat goes on, just like my love, everlasting, and the beat goes on, still moving strong, on and on...' It was as if the music had taken control of your body making you a vessel for its rhythm. You grabbed the vacuum cleaner and started to run it over the carpet where some of the dirt from the plant had spilled when you knocked it. Feet tapping to the electronic beat.

As the music changed to a slower, more sensual sound, you took a break from cleaning and closed your eyes. You let the music wash over, a sway in these slow sultry movements. With your body covered in sweat, and heartbeat fast. You collapsed onto the sofa couch, breathing heavily with a huge smile on your face until the next song on the cassette played. 

The lyrics of the song spoke, and you could feel every word to the bone. One of your favorites. Celebrate good times, come on! It was almost like you were transported back to that night, looking down at the scene as if you hadn’t even been part of it. You’re askin’ to catch a cold. You kno’ that right?”  You remembered him saying. To which you replied. “Come on Frankie! It’s just rain. It ain’t gon’ hurt you. Live a little!”

You blinked several times realizing your eyes were wet. A quick scan of the area and your unwillingness to be even more embarrassed had been the motivation until not a single trace of your downfall remained visible to the human eye. Like it never happened. Only you knew. You were the only one who needed to. You hadn’t even realized you’d finished.

You sank down on one of the sofa pillows. A hopelessness slowly crept in your system. The same kind that had come as you wrote the ending to the final chapter. The whole ritual that included Al Green and your pen when you were first paired up to be partners. Only this time no Al. Only memories of that night, the rain. 

Who would have guessed the four tops would pull at your heartstrings like this…. 

Baby I need your lovin’, got to have all your lovin’ baby I need your lovin’ got to have all your lovin’, the lyrics filled in behind you then all around. 

This beautiful dream you had created for you and Franklin was fading, slowly but surely. The tears that had been threatening to spill at any given moment finally escaped, and you let out a sob. 

The phone rang, and its sound filled the apartment against the music. It could be your mom, or Candy. Hell maybe even Will, or it could be him. 

Whoever it was didn’t matter. You laid yourself on the sofa, curled into a ball and let it ring…and ring…and ring.

…………………To Be Continued?

Taglist:  @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @hopelessdisasterr

Writers Note: Essshhhhh, Reader is really going through it huh? Man oh man, well hopefully she can pull herself outta the slump. The library scene was crazy wasn’t it? Y'all ever done that in real life? Anywaysssss. Until next time, thank you for reading. Oh and please consider leaving comments. I really like those over everything else. Shoot, I wanna know what you ladies thought. Anyway, peace readers!  

[joels-watch-is-broken]

Fuck I am so tired of never once having my house all to my self. "Oh but it isn't your house, it's a family house". Yes the thing is that my house feels like a hostile environment when my family is around.

And now my friend look at me weird when I say my priority will be getting a job. Because they know how much I love what I'm studying and they know how long my career is so why delay it. And I try to make it look like the main reason is that I also found this other thing I like that I want to explore as a career option. And that is true, but not entirely. That is not the main reason, just another tiny one.

The main reason is that I had a better time at college last semester while staying most days at my toxic ex's house than this year's that I had to stay at my house.

I was so excited for today because my sister's were going back to school and my parents to their job. I put on the alarm ready to wake up early and do all the things I have to do. And then I heard my father downstairs and all my fucking will fell down.

Because that's all it takes. I hear one of them is around and my whole body tenses, I get on alarm mode. What is it gonna be this time? And I know it's gonna be something so I stay in my room and don't go out. Because so far the best method of avoiding harm has been avoiding them.

Slowly I've been making my life as small as possible, as insignificant as I can't so it doesn't get their attention. And it has sucked. Because last year I was dating a person that belittled me, that made me feel guilty, inferior and ashamed. But If I was hungry while at his house I could grab something to eat, if I was thirsty I could drink something. Because I could lay down on the couch and his parents would randomly throw insulting comments at me. I didn't have to tiptoe around the house.

And today I wanted to tidy my room. To go down and make my breakfast and enjoy the sun, and put some music and take a bath. But now that one of them is here I can't.

I know whatever I make myself for breakfast they are not gonna like, they are gonna question. I'm gonna go take a shower not a bath, and they are gonna complain about how the bathroom gets humid and I took too long even if when I check the time I only took ten minutes. And when I start tidying up my room he is gonna make jokes. And then when I get down to eat, or when I walk near them they will start telling them how I am not doing it right.

Maybe because I could eat at the table when I was at my ex's at least but here I eat in my room on my desk.

Looking for a job became a priority because I can't function in this house. I feel so guilty and ashamed I wasted two years because of the quarantine, the truth is I was going crazy locked in my house, with them. And lately my parents are here nearly every fucking day and it's driving me crazy. And I know this is gonna get worse. They are getting older, harder to deal with and in three years my father could get sent home to retire. And I just can't imagine how I could ever live with that. It would be such a fucking nightmare. So I'm trying to at least be economically independent when that day comes. If I'm lucky maybe even live by myself.

I can't tell people all this when they ask why. I can't explain how I get on guard whenever they are around. Because maybe since they learned that I go away if they dare do it, they have stopped. But the threat is always there. Because I know they are capable of it. I don't know if they know I know and how much power it has over me. It scares me to think they do.

That I'm scared. That it takes one thing, one bad day and it can all start over again. Because all my life I've been trying to learn how to avoid getting hit and never once have I learned how to defend myself.

And that's it isn't it. I'm a 21 years old woman, but I have learned that the inaction of a 4 years old child is my best defence. And that's what my life here has taught me. To be silent, have my head down. I've become pliant and submissive because it has been the best way to survive. And how do I explain that yes I'm not a kid anymore but whenever They are around my body just goes automatically into that role on its own. That if they are around before I know it I'm back to tiptoing again.

It makes me feel weak and worthless. I make such an effort to build a life when I go out. It's all for nothing when I go back inside. It all becomes meaningless inside this house, by these 4 walls. All my boundaries have been violated here, and everything is harder.

I just wish they could go back to work and leave me the fuck alone for a few hours. That's all I ask.