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#but they textbook fridged her and i have never once seen someone talk about that in the wild

shoutokozume · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I request a Kuroo x fem reader angst to fluff, where they are childhood friends and reader have always liked him. But Kuroo thought he only saw her as a little sister until he saw a guy confessing to her? 🥺 I hope this is okay! Your writings are awesome! Have a nice day!

I hate that I love you

Navi

(Thank you so much❤️❤️❤️)

Pairing - Kuroo x F. Reader, (Slight Tsukki x reader)

Warnings - Mentions of fuckboy Kuroo, drinking, Swearing, and I made Tsukki a huge ass (I swear I love him so sorry.)

Genre - Angst to Fluff

You walked into your best friend's apartment, greeted by a hickey covered girl wobbling out of the door. That's the fifth one this week. Kuroo was hot and he knew it, he never wanted a deep relationship with anyone and only used his looks so he could get someone in bed.

"God Kuroo, can you not be such a whore for one day." You sighed, watching the poor girl slide into the elevator with a goofy grin.

"Y/n, I can't help it if I'm irresistible." He teased, not knowing how much you secretly agreed with his statement.

You hate yourself deeply for falling in love with such an ass.

"Enough about my sex life, why'd you stop by?" Kuroo asked, quickly pulling a shirt on and not bothering to do the same with any pants.

"I was just bringing back the textbook that you left at my dorm." You explained, tossing the hard book to his chest with an annoyed grunt.

You and Kuroo used to not be such a love-hate friendship, you both used to be close friends who many assumed would end up together. You were always each other's dates to the dances, and he always sent you cute Valentine's on that romantic holiday.

What changed? Is what many asked, especially the well known 'third wheel' Kenma.

Kuroo changed, that's what happened. He started to grow into a more masculine build, attracting many horny girls his way. The more hookups and girls he had under his belt the cockier his presence became. It came to a point where you stopped talking to him on a daily basis, only chatting once a week.

You loved Kuroo, but not the one standing in front of you. You fell in love with the slightly dumb but optimistic boy who saw you as a little sister, constantly treating you to dinner and sleeping over everytime it was storming out. The man you loved was identical to the man standing in front of you, but his personality was no where to be seen.

You remember the times where you'd actually look forward to seeing his face, a beaming grin welcoming you as he ruffled your hair. Now all you were left with was this homesick feeling, knowing that man probably doesn't exist anymore.

You weren't the only one to realize how much your friendship with Kuroo has changed, he's noticed it too. Realizing how little he sees you know, how cold you've become, and how disgusted you look whenever you see a girl leave his apartment. He didn't think it was that big of a deal, you only saw him as a brother anyways.

"Now that you have it, I'm going to head out." You reply, avoiding his lingering gaze.

"Why don't you stay for a drink? I've got plenty of beer in the fridge." Kuroo asked, rushing towards you with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"I can't tonight Kuroo-"

"You always reject me now." Kuroo interrupts, sounding a bit hurt by your neglect.

"Yeah, but tonight I have a reason. I have a date." You explain, watching his eyes turn into saucers.

You walked into the hallways, watching as he followed you until you gave him a name. Kemna warned you about telling him who you were going on a date with, telling you he'll nag you and be annoying. But his constant question was becoming just as annoying.

"Who is it-"

"It's Tsukishima, happy?" You hissed, watching his excited smile turn into a slight scowl.

"Kenma why didn't you tell me!" Kuroo demanded, flopping down on the gamer's bed just after he walked away from you in silence.

"Becuase you'd react like this." Kenma replied bluntly, not even giving the much taller boy a single glance.

Kuroo felt this urge of protection wash over him, he couldn't let you go on that date. You'll get hurt by that prick, and he doesn't deserve you in the slightest. How could you accept an offer to date such a salty brat? This wasn't like you, or at least the person he used to know.

"Why are you so upset anyway, it's y/n's life not yours." Kenma reminded, tired of this stupid frat boy behavior Kuroo has been giving for the past year.

"But he's not good for her, she's making a huge mistake-"

"You sleep with girls every other night and brag about it, treat them like sex toys with no hearts, then dump them. Yet has y/n ever verbally judged you for it?" Kenma muttered, making Kuroo shut up in an instant.

It was rare that Kenma would get involved with any drama, usually just sitting back and sighing when either of you ranted. But Kenma began to realize how much Kuroo's egotistical actions have damaged you. You barely smile anymore and never hang out unless it's a holiday or if you have to drop something off, he's pretty much ruined the thought of trust for you.

"But you have to agree that Tsukishima is bad news." Kuroo begged, showing a photo from his instagram where Tsukishima was drinking with a whole bunch of girls latched onto him.

"Honestly I don't see much of a difference between you and him. The difference is, you've already hurt y/n while he hasn't gotten the chance." Kenma replied, looking up from his game to try and make Kuroo realize what he's done.

"I don't know what you're getting at-"

"Y/n loves you. She has since highschool and you led her on to think that you liked her too than completely left her in the dust." Kenma explained, shutting off his switch when Kuroo slumped his posture in astonishment.

Kuroo didn't know how he felt about you, he loved you but he didn't know if he loved you in a family way or a relationship way. He's always seen you as a little sister who he wanted to protect, he never really though much of the kind gestures he used to do either.

"But I don't know if I like her that way..." Kuroo muttered, his brain fogged with thoughts.

"I think you do but won't admit it." Kenma pointed out, sitting next to the much taller friend of his.

"If you don't like her like that then why do you care that's she's going on a date? I'm her friend too and I don't care as much as you do." He continued, the taller boy starting to click the puzzle pieces together.

senior year

"Have any plans for prom y/n?" Kiyoko asked, assuming you'd go with Kuroo since you two always go together.

"Yeah, I'm going with Kuroo as usual... But something odd happened." You revealed, not knowing that Kuroo was listening behind his locker door.

Was he too obvious with his flirting this time? Did he disappoint you? What if Kenma asked you two! What if you take the both as dates. But if Kenma was there, that would ruin his plan on giving you your first kiss on your guy's last dance together.

"Tsukishima asked me to prom, and then kissed me against a wall. He kind of forced it on me, luckily Kenma was there to pull me away. What a waste of a first kiss." You grumble, gasping when a light slap to your behind surprised you and Kiyoko.

Following the slap was a smug Tsukishima and his clearly disappointed friend Yamaguchi, Tsukishima was taller than Kuroo by an inch and could easily be a tough match to compete against.

Everyone in school knew how obvious you and Kuroo were, that's why no one ever flirted with either of you and they hoped one of you would just confess at some point. But ever since Tsukishima transferred to your school, he's been non stop going after you.

"How does it feel to know that I'm the only one to taste y/n." Tsukishima huffed, hissing it in Kuroo's ear lightly.

The blonde giant pushed his shoulder harshly before walking off with a sly smile, laughing darkly as the entire hallways wondered what he had whispered. Kuroo never felt more frustrated with himself, if it weren't for being a coward he would've been your first kiss and could've claimed you as his before Tsukishima made his arrogant moves.

Tsukishima was the only one who was willing to get in the way of you and Kuroo dating.

"I need to go talk to y/n." Kuroo announced, already making his way to the door.

"She's at the café downtown, they left fifteen minutes ago." Kenma revealed, passing Kuroo the keys to his car.

"Don't be an idiot for once." The cat like boy warned, pushing him out of the door so he wouldn't hesitate any longer.

Kuroo practically sprinted to Kenma's car, backing out of the dormitory parking lot. Kuroo knew he needed to speak with you, but he didn't know what he was going to exactly say. 'Hey y/n I love you, sorry for being a coward and trying to hide my love for you through sleeping with a whole bunch of girls and completely brushing you off for years now.'

Kenma was right, him and Tsukishima weren't that different anymore. Kuroo felt disgusted by that fact, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you and that's why he tried to make you uninterested in him... Only tearing you apart instead of making you get over him.

He convinced himself to think he ever loved you, when in reality you were his world and jealousy just got the best of him. The worst part is the fact that he didn't even make an effort to actually see the truth, he just heard what Tsukishima said and then left you in the dust without asking you directly about your thoughts.

He pulled up in front of the café, noticing that neither one of you were even there. He was about to text Kenma and tell him off for sending him wrong directions, but that's when he heard your meek voice telling someone to slow down and stop.

When he followed your voice to the alley beside the coffee shop, he was infuriated to see Tsukishima pressing you up against the wall and forcing himself onto you. His lips slobbering across your neck as his hands squeezed your chest to your disappointment.

"Get the Fuck off of her!" Kuroo yelled, kicking the blonde in the balls before pushing him to the ground.

Without another word from either boys, Kuroo pulled you into Kenma's car and drove off to god knows where before you could even get your seatbelt on. You both heard your phone ringing constantly, all of them from Tsukishima threatening Kuroo and saying you would've liked it if you got used to it more.

A long silence filled the car as he parked it in an empty parking lot, the only sound was his annoyed huffs and occasional rakes through his jet black locks.

"Thank you." You muttered, refusing to even look in his direction.

"You don't need to thank me." He retorted, gently placing his much longer pinky over yours.

"Kenma told me where the date was, and I couldn't help but doubt my trust in that salty blonde. I still don't get why you'd go out with him." Kuroo continued, not realizing the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

He only realized your sadness when you stepped out of the car and slumped across the front of it, shaking gently as you silently cried into your hands.

Kuroo cautiously moved you into his arms, wrapping his volleyball jacket over your shoulders as you began to cry into his shirt. This reminded you of the old Kuroo, the one you always loved and fantasized about. Was he still there?

"Don't comfort me if you going to be a complete ass two minute later. I'm not sleeping with you." You hissed, getting your thoughts back together and pushing your old friend away from you.

"I don't want to treat you like those girls y/n, and I won't. The only reason I actually slept with them is because I thought it would fill the void that you left, I convinced myself that you would never love me. Especially when guys like Tsukishima were after you. " Kuroo mumbled, making you attention completely focus on his voice.

"And I'm not saying this to get in your pants, I'm saying this so I won't hate myself more than you hate me. I'm a coward, idiot, and whore, who completely missed the opportunity to be with the most amazing girl in the world." He continued, staring blankly at the night sky as his eyes lacked any sign of joy.

"Kenma told me about your feelings... So if it makes you feel any better, I faked all of my orgasms. I wasn't attracted to any of the girls, so I never got any pleasure out of it. I couldn't get attracted to anyone because I would compare them to you, who is ten times the better person than anyone I've met. " He finished, making your palms sweat as he revealed that he knows your secret.

In that moment, you didn't know if you were imagining that your Kuroo was back or if he actually was. But either way all of your old emotions that you hid away for so long, busted out of you. Your body moved before you could process what you were about to do, your lips crashing into Kuroo's as you pulled him down towards you.

His lips tasted like warm apple pie on a winter night, both of them were so plump and soft as they immediately returned the gesture. His hands cupping your face instead of your ass like he's done for the past year to other girls. This made you realize that he was being sincere, not just playing with your heart to get you in bed.

He was too impatient to butter anyone up and you knew that.

"I'll give you another chance, so don't fuck it up pretty boy." You teased, smirking slyly as you admired his breathless expression.

"Y-yes soft- I mean y/n" He stuttered, his cheeks turning Cherry red as he rushed into the drivers seat.

He knew he had a lot to make up for, and he was willing to pay off his mistakes and much more. You were 10x the person he ever wanted anyways. He may have been a big soft dummy, but you hate that you love him for it.

"I'm a better kisser than Tsukishima right?" Kuroo asked, relief filling his chest when you burst out in laughter while nodding.

An hour later in the group chat

KM - An hour has past are you guys dead or ignoring me? I'm fine with either.

KM - By the way no boning in car... Please.

KM - If you two are boning I'm going to set my car on fire and then bleach my fingers.

KM - It's bad enough that I caught my parents doing it in there. I'm not going through it again.

Y/n - Kenma... My phone was on silent you can relax.

Y/n - See no boning, just getting McDonalds

KM - Get me a mcnugget meal.

Y/n - Send me money and I will.

KM - I bought you that Zelda amiibo and this is how you repay me?

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ghost-party · 3 years

Note

Congrats on your 200 followers my dear!! Can I please get a Roommates AU with Levi?? Thank you so much, you are wonderful and I heart you 🥰🥰🥰

Thank you, Lauren! 😊❤️ YOU’RE wonderful, and I love you so much! I really hope you enjoy this oneshot.

Warnings: swearing, banter, bad first date (not with Levi), alcohol, a little angst, small confessions

• • •

Levi + Roommates

“Wow. You’re actually wearing it.”

“What?” Levi looks at you, and then down at his apron — forest green, with a grumpy-looking black cat embroidered on the front. You gave it to him for Christmas last year, but you’ve never seen him use it.

“Yeah, well...” He returns to scrubbing the countertop. “I haven’t done the laundry yet.”

“It looks good on you.” And it does, paired with a black t-shirt that hugs his toned arms and gray sweatpants slung low on his hips.

You didn’t used to ogle your roommate. When you first moved in, he annoyed the shit out of you, criticizing your overall cleanliness and putting a chore chart on the fridge.

You were both exhausted grad students, trying to make ends meet and cling onto whatever sanity you could. In an effort to avoid committing murder, you tried to focus on Levi’s positive qualities. And at some point in the last year, his quirks had become more tolerable — even endearing.

He was an excellent cook. Whenever you went grocery shopping, he always supplied a clear and organized list of ingredients he needed. When you came down with bronchitis around midterms, he brewed tea, ran hot baths for you, and worked with your mutual friend, Petra, to gather your missed assignments. He endured move nights, even when you picked something he had no interest in watching.

You also began to notice small things about him. How his hair fell across his face while he was reading. How his strong hands flexed while chopping vegetables or pointing at something in your textbook during study sessions. How his shirt clung to his body when he returned home after a workout. How his dark eyes revealed more than his face usually did — amusement, irritation, curiosity...

“Going out?”

His question brings you back to the here and now. You’re standing beside the door, coat in one hand. “Yeah. I have a date with a guy Petra’s been wanting to set me up with.”

Levi makes a derisive noise. “Oh yeah?”

You roll your eyes. “Go on. Say it.”

He peers at you over his shoulder, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Let me guess. It’s her new coworker — that hipster asshole.”

“Don’t be rude.”

“So I’m right.” He turns to face you, looking agitated. “The guy who thinks he’s going to write the next Infinite Jest. I didn’t realize wearing pre-faded, fake vintage t-shirts was a personality trait.”

“Are you done?”

“What’s his name again? Zed?”

“Zeke.” You shoot Levi an exasperated look as you grab your keys. “What’s your problem? Seriously. You met him once, when we stopped by the café to see Petra. What, did he piss in your tea?”

Levi bristles, clenching the sponge in his fist, and you wait for his next snarky comment. But it doesn’t come. Instead, his expression flattens into apparent boredom. His gaze, however, is sharp and... something else.

You open your mouth, so close to asking if he’s okay, but he cuts you off. “Have fun.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mutter. Even as you close the door behind you and walk to the elevator, you can’t stop thinking of how he looked when you turned away. Almost as if he were sad.

• • •

When you walk into the apartment a few hours later, Levi’s sitting on the couch, a book held loosely in one hand. He takes one look at you and says, “That bad, huh?”

You kick off your shoes and drop your coat and bag on the nearest chair. “If you even think about saying ‘I told you so,’ I’m not bringing you a drink.”

“That’s a weak threat.”

After pouring two glasses of wine, you join him on the couch, curling one leg beneath you. “To be fair, it wasn’t the worst date I’ve ever been on.”

Levi sets his book aside. “But...?”

“All he did was talk about himself — the whole time.” You groan, dropping your head back against the cushion. “He told me about his novel.” When Levi snorts, you point a warning finger at him. “Don’t you dare. Anyway, he’s ‘shopping it around,’ this epistolary examination of man’s existential shortcomings or whatever. And did you know he wants to get a PhD — in creative writing? In this economy?”

Levi merely hums, taking a sip of wine. “I just... felt bored, you know?” you say, looking down at your own glass.

I wish I had been with you instead. The words are right there, so close to being spoken aloud. But you hesitate.

Unfortunately for you, your roommate is inhumanly perceptive. You feel him shift, turning toward you. “What?”

“Stop that. It’s creepy.”

“Huh?”

“Reading my mind, or whatever it is you do.”

“Tch...” When you look up, you see that he has one arm propped on the back of the couch, his head resting in his hand. “It’s not my fault you’re so obvious.”

“Is that so?” You’re feeling daring — like you’re finally on the precipice of something, so close to the feelings you’ve been avoiding for months now. “Then tell me, what am I thinking?”

Levi stares back at you, dark eyes seeming brighter in the dim evening light. “That you would have had a better time with someone else.”

You laugh softly. “Damn, you’re good...” Tugging the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, you ask, “Were you thinking that earlier, before I left? Is that why you were so upset?”

“I wasn’t upset.”

When you quirk an eyebrow, he glances away. “Maybe,” he mutters. You patiently wait, knowing how rare it is for him to talk openly about his feelings. You’ve always had the impression that he’s unused to closeness, or, at the very least, unfamiliar with how others tend to express emotions.

“I didn’t want you to go.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

He huffs out a sigh. “Because I’m shit at this. And who am I to tell you what to do? If you want to date some pretentious fuck, why should I get in the way?”

There’s that look again — sadness, along with frustration. “Maybe I want you to get in the way,” you murmur, watching as his eyes widen. “I’m not good at this either.” The relief of being open and honest outweighs your nervousness. “I don’t know how to go from this —” you gesture between the two of you “— to something else.”

“Is that really what you want?”

You set your glass down and turn to him. “You’re blunt. And stubborn, and you always call me on my bullshit. But you’re also kind. Maybe the kindest person I know. You just have your own way of showing it. And I like all of those things. I like you.”

Levi is silent for a long moment, and you’re unsure what he’s thinking. But then he lifts his hand, reaching toward you and gently smoothing back your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear.

“You’re messy.” When you start to protest, he shushes you. “And you’re just as stubborn as me. At least sometimes. But you’re patient. Thoughtful. Not the worst person to live with.” His lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles. “I guess I like you, too.”

“You guess?” Your tone is teasing. “Can I get that in writing?”

“Brat,” he grumbles, ruffling your hair before pulling away. He reaches for the remote, queuing up the show you’ve been watching together.

“Do I get to plan our first date?”

“No.” When you sigh, he says, “I already have something in mind.”

You notice that small smile again, barely noticeable in profile. And as the opening credits roll, you settle your hand close to his, in the open space between you. He covers it with his, squeezing gently.

#200 followers event #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader

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ubemango · 4 years

Text

one time, in your room (m)

note: I wrote this after receiving such an enthusiastic response to my virgin!jk drabbles. I really can’t thank you guys enough for expressing interest in this story, it really helped jumpstart lunyua lol 😭😭🥰🥰!!!!!!! I’m happy she’s back:) I would be absolutely nowhere without it heheh. My thank yous are also due to Violet and my crème de la crème for helping me write this back in March--I love you both very, very much!!!!!! Enjoy :D

DISCLAIMER. there’s one scene based off a tweet that I can’t find the link to lol... it’s about getting fingered till u cry. You’ll know when you get there 😭

PAIRING. jeongguk/reader GENRE. romance, college au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 17.3k WARNINGS. alcohol, oral (f receiving), cum shot, fingering, sexting, phone sex/masturbation, face sitting, riding, talks about Babies, jk loving oc A Lot SUMMARY. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. (You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later.)

part 1: emergency tactics

It started five months in.

Jimin probably didn’t mean anything by it. There’s talk and then there’s inebriation, and Jimin slurred roughly between the two like the drunkard he is. But Jeongguk was still hurt and you didn’t know what to do.

“He called me a pussy then told me to fuck one instead,” Jeongguk said under the strobe lights, the plastic ones you buy at the dollar store and you know it’s Hoseok who got them because he’s frugal, not cheap. The couch was itchy under your skirt. “Am I—is it really that bad? Like am I doing this wrong? Am I taking too long, or—”

“No, oh my god. Babe,” you said, and the cooler in your hand found the floor before you cupped his face. He was pouting. “Doing things—like that—it’s—it shouldn’t be something you stress over, okay? Don’t listen to other people. I like you. And Jimin is a whore.”

Jeongguk snorted. You could still see the doubt in his eyes, though. Shiny because he’s tipsy, but that downward droop still there. “You’re the best,” he said as sincere as he could sound.

And he’d left it at that. He got way more drunk though, definitely influenced by his post-teen-pre-adult angst but what’s a 21-year-old supposed to do with ample service of alcohol and an aching heart? You’d left him to it and cleaned the vomit on his shirt after. It was an okay party.

It stayed okay for a bit, too. Jeongguk isn’t an insecure person, but his bouts of uncertainty were getting more and more frequent. Especially when all his friends were naturally horny and really fucking stupid.

“So you’ve been dating for almost eight months and you—still haven’t defiled him,” Jimin says, now absolutely sober and still absolutely dumb.

You can feel Jeongguk’s ears heat up. “Dude.”

Jimin ignores him and turns to you. “Aren’t you like—bored?”

“When will you stop talking,” Jeongguk murmurs through a bite of his burrito bowl.

“I’m not,” you answer Jimin, flipping through another page of a study on birth control. A convoluted piece of shit, as Taehyung put so eloquently, but he left a couple minutes ago for a study group. “And stop bullying him.”

“I’m just shocked,” Jimin continues. “How does someone so hot end up with someone even hotter and like—not immediately participate in procreation. This is a crime!”

“Look.” Your textbook flips closed. “I don’t know what your obsession is with this guy’s dick over here, but it’s mine to worry about.”

“I think you upset her,” Jeongguk says.

“I know what it’s like to be pressured into sex,” you say. You feel Jimin lock up. “Look—sorry, that was baggage and I’m stressed.” Jimin nods. “But seriously? It’s—he’s—Jeongguk’s fine the way he is, alright?”

You taper off. It’s silent save for the milling of other students in the quad, but the air is thick. Sliced through with your anger but you’d rather have this conversation in private, without Jimin and his probing. Unnerving Jeongguk was like lighting the fuse in you, and maybe it was the instinct to preserve whatever purity Jimin keeps insisting on but you’ve never seen your boyfriend so upset about something. It kind of hurt to see him like this.

You get back to taking notes when Jimin talks again. “I’ll go,” he says. “Jeongguk I—”

“It’s fine.” Doesn’t sound like it though because he’s tight-lipped.

Jimin salutes and sidles away. A bubble of unfinished conversations swells around you.

“Thanks for—that, I guess,” he says.

Your highlighter squeaks against the paper. “Jeongguk.”

“M’yeah?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

Maybe that was a bad start because Jeongguk sputters. You think he squawks, too—and he’s definitely fidgeting, lots of cut-off noises in his throat as he tries to say anything coherent. You look at him and he finally takes a breath in. “I—”

“You’re worried.”

His face contorts in confusion. “About what?”

“I don’t know. But I can feel it.”

“Same wavelength,” he laughs. Empty but he knows you’re just trying to help.

“Look.” He doesn’t but that’s because you’ve turned back to your books. “We have sex when we have sex. And if someone tries to—bother you about it, you can tell them they can suck on my fat cock.”

You hear him chortle. “I’ll do that.”

The conversation ends. You study. You still feel Jeongguk fidgeting.

Now there’s three weeks left till the term is over.

“My—brain. It’s exploding. There’s too much going on.”

Jeongguk’s desk is a cramped space—the only place you can prop your textbook up against is his sweatshirt wrapped into a wrinkly ball. Graciously taken from his hamper because he still hasn’t done his laundry. The chair creaks when you spin to look at him: a dejected blob of comfy clothes surrounded by looseleaf paper and sticky notes. “Break time?”

He slumps against his pillows, arms out like a sad toddler. “Break time.”

This probably means you’ll cuddle for the next three hours but there’s little to complain about when Jeongguk purrs into your hair once you settle into his chest. There’s a warmth to him you can’t get anywhere else. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Just working too hard.”

“Okay,” you murmur. Jeongguk’s breath evens out the way it does when he wants to stop thinking. You can hear the hum of the fridge outside.

“Want this to be over.”

You trace your nail over his collarbone. “I know.”

“When’s your awards ceremony?”

“In two weeks,” you say.

“Same time as our final game.”

You lean your head up when he sighs, watching his eyes flutter in the afternoon shade of his curtains. A calmer period right after a hectic schedule of school, because you have Professor Kwon to thank for her excessive meetings about tutorials and assignments. It never occurred to you that you might’ve been imposing when you showed up to Jeongguk’s dorm with your homework, but he’d been studying too. Same wavelength, he’d say.

“Jimin been bothering you lately?”

“No, thank god. Don’t think I could take anymore prodding.”

This is the first time you’ve asked since that afternoon in the quad, though now Jimin’s been less annoying whenever you see him with Jeongguk. You know he’s just itching for your boyfriend to finally get his dick wet.

And you can’t blame him—that was his intention when he finally got Jeongguk to ask you out. Friendship with Jeongguk was a weird stretch of time, especially when he’d spent the entirety of it silently pining for you: involuntarily single, but so preoccupied with the care and keeping of your GPA you’d been blind to any advance. Not that he tried anything, though.

He’d been in his second year, still getting used to the enormity of campus grounds as a scholarship-bound athlete. And on top of all his schoolwork he had to balance the fragility of having a crush on an upperclassman well on her way to PhD candidacy. It was a good thing he was cute, though, and Jimin had no qualms about embarrassing Jeongguk any chance he got when you were around. The blush when Jimin had pushed him to your desserts table at one of the indoor Farmers’ Markets still burns in the furthest love-lit corner in your mind.

“You remember when you asked me out?”

“God.” A too-late night in the library that prompted the chivalrous part in Jeongguk because he’d brought you to the bus stop too close for campus police to escort you. You’d been good friends for a while already, the hurdle of skirting around each other knocked down when Jeongguk finally got the guts to insert himself in the your friend circle. In that wet shelter, a quivering lip. The sure that now has you seven-and-a-half months down the line with arguably the best thing that’s happened to you since you started your college career, but you won’t tell him that. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“I don’t know. Just—feels like forever ago.”

“Sappy.”

“Maybe the stars are aligning,” you say.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know, just. Sometimes when I lie down with you I feel like I have to—lay myself bare.”

“Then bare yourself.”

You pause. “I’d like to suck your dick.”

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna need you to elaborate,” Jeongguk says like he’s winded.

“Two weeks of me finishing assignments and you at hockey practice. You know. Take advantage of the time we have with each other.”

“Good point. But I have a counter offer.”

Jeongguk is always a giver. “Which is?”

“I eat you out instead.”

“You’re too good to me,” and this is the only response you can come up with without sounding too shocked. Or horny. Not that you’d ever shy away but Jeongguk had a way of burning you up from the inside. “You’re down for that?”

“Always,” he says, then rolls you over. All that muscle from his workouts barring you from even thinking about fighting him back so you let him push you till you’re comfortable. But this isn’t about you. Not at the moment, anyway.

“Take your shirt off.” Jeongguk does this so quickly his face almost crashes into yours when he comes back down, gasping a laugh that he breathes into you when his mouth meets yours. A quick tangle of your legs around his waist has him lying over you with ease, caught in his cage of pressed-down elbows and intimacy.

“Wanna—take care of you.” He trails his mouth down your neck, bed squeaking when his knees pad down. Lips tasting lower and now he lifts your shirt up to your chest, pressing wetness to your stomach and you’re quick to discard your clothing if only to see Jeongguk pause at the zipper of your jeans. “Can I—?”

You nod.

His fingers don’t shake but he’s blinking fast, pulling on the waistline of the rough denim and shucking it past your feet, sighing when your panties come into view. A short-lived reverence when he leans down to mouth at your sex above the thin cotton and your legs spread wide for his arms to cling onto.

“Tell me—tell me what you like,” he says. A shy demand.

“Take my underwear off then I’ll tell you.”

There’s warmth lost when Jeongguk slides your panties down to one ankle but he’s over you in the second it takes for you to flick it off. No pause in his eagerness but now he lies in wait for your instructions. The way he pauses for you is so agonizingly hot you might combust.

“It’s—I like it when… I feel you lick at my…” God you sound fucked. But Jeongguk’s a wild card and takes it in stride, hands once again finding purchase around your thighs and you feel his hard tongue on you, a wet slide that has your stomach caving. It’s the natural twitch in your fingers that prompt you to keep a loose grip in his hair, other hand tight in the bed like your proxy anchor. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah…”

Jeongguk laves your core, pressing harder the higher he goes. Contingency he takes advantage of because you get louder. It’s the lick on your clit that has you sighing. “Oooh, you—use the… tip of your tongue. And lick right—there.”

He’s so pliant you feel like you’re throttling him. There’s a forward insistence of his head until you feel the flat of his tongue pressed fully against you, his neck rolling with every shift of your hips. In control of your pleasure and he makes it feel like this is what he was made to do. His fingers get tight. “You taste good,” he exhales right onto your sex and you nearly crush his head with your thighs.

“Oh my god.” Your breaths are lost. You might hide your face but that would mean losing sight of Jeongguk providing a service only he can spell out with his tongue. “Ah—”

There’s a little squeak further down the bed and you notice the small flutter of his groin caught in the warmth of him and the sheets. His lips close around your nub before you can say anything, slurping that has your gut wrangled, your fingers gripping his hair as you get lost in his love. Your eyes roll back. “Oh fuck, that—agh—”

He’s made you come before. And the familiar tone of your incoming bliss is something he can memorize—he probably already has judging by the train wreck of your throat and the sounds he pulls from you. A swindler of your orgasms but you’d gladly hand yourself over if it meant deceiving your pussy into its own demise.

“Fuck you’re—so sexy like this,” Jeongguk mumbles. You whine at his attention but now you’re running even hotter than ever.

You’re not even telling him what to do anymore but you know he knows it’s good, a message sent with every twitch of your sex into his mouth and now his fingers are splayed along your pelvis to keep you from bucking up. He doesn’t even need his fingers. It’s the hardened tongue, the little slashes on your clit as his head swings back and forth that have you squealing: “Yes, like that. Oh I’m cumming—fuck—!”

Jeongguk hums when you jerk your hips up, convulsions in all your sweetest parts and your throat is dry from all your moaning, the swell of your lungs so hard to keep up with but he always has you losing your breath. Spit collects in its warmth down your ass but it’s a lost thought when Jeongguk lathers you into your come-down, legs like jelly and he helps your knees together when you finally stop trembling. You don’t realize your eyes are closed until you feel his lips on your mouth, complaint of catching a break right behind your teeth when you kiss with what little strength remains in you.

“That was. Really good,” you whisper. Jeongguk laughs. And he doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with his wet mouth and red cheeks. “Do you wanna cum?”

He looks like he’ll say no. A bitten lip instead of confirmation. “I—”

“Please, I want you to.” Like a switch turned on he lights up, head bobbing and now he’s shoving his jeans past his ass, underwear down too. “You wanna—come on my face?”

His eyes look like they’re leaking out of his face. A strangled noise escapes his throat. He probably thinks you’re on crack but it’s just in his nature for him to assume a dazed auto-pilot whenever you say shit so outlandish. “You—I—I-I—Can—?”

“You can cum—god you can cum anywhere. I’m yours. Remember?” Reaching behind, you feel for the clasp of your bra, flinging it off before you pull on Jeongguk by the dip of his back until his knees straddle your ribs. “Is this good?”

“Can—could you—spit… on it.” His voice dwindles like he’s caught between the threshold of dirty and pushing it. You don’t answer because your neck straining for the tip of his dick and down the rest of his shaft is all he needs for one. Jeongguk bucks into you. “Oh fuck—ngh—ah!”

If his grinding on the mattress was a ticking bomb, your tongue on his cock is the thirty seconds till detonation. And by the sounds of Jeongguk groaning into the mid-afternoon sun slipping through his curtains you know he’s almost there. “Lie down, lie down,” he instructs, hand replacing your mouth in a stroke so quick you’re scared he might get cum in your hair.

“Agh—fuck yeah I’m—”

A spurt of his cum stains your lip, then your cheek. You feel some on the tip of your nose too but Jeongguk points his dick down to your tits, spilling all his hot frustration on your even hotter skin and you might cum again from the visual of him looking so spent. “Wow.”

“Yeah, that—” Jeongguk swallows twice— “I… wow.”

His dick is getting soft. There’s sweat pooling where your body meets the sheets. “Wanna pass me tissues?”

“Oh fuck. Yeah, yeah—here, sorry.” Jeongguk makes soft passes with a wad of cotton over your chest, handing one to you for your face. “Do you—do you like it? When I… cum on you?”

“Yeah.” You think about making a weird comment about sipping on his juice but you’ll save it for later. You focus on not letting his spunk flake on your cheek. “It’s hot. Really.”

“Good,” he says. Flopping down after shooting the soiled tissue into the basket and now he seems exhausted. “Do you feel gross or is it just me.”

“Gross how?”

“Gross like I need a shower.”

You can’t deny him. “Wanna shower?”

“Yep,” he says with no hesitation, and he doesn’t let you say anything else when he grabs you by your wrists. Somehow, everything feels lighter.

Sometimes Jeongguk invites you out to practice. It’s boring and you don’t know a single rule about gameplay, but the presence of him despite being a ways away on the ice is still a comfort on its own.

The arena is frigidly cold, and while you aren’t without distraction (re: Assignments) it’s still one you can barely get yourself to really focus on. You rub your face in frustration. You hear the sound of the hockey puck passed around in harsh slaps.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Jimin,” you acknowledge. He drops down next to you. “Here to spy on hockey ass too, huh.”

“That and Hoseok promised to get me dinner later.” You raise your eyebrow. “Did one of his assignments.”

“Forgot you were a chemistry genius.” Clicking your tongue, you watch the big 97 of Jeongguk’s jersey as he glides around behind the glass. He waves when he sees you looking. You’d greet him back but your hands are too perfect where they are in the heat of your sweater pockets so you wave your head in what you hope looks like excitement.

“Been holding up okay?” You turn. Jimin’s eyes are a blaze of concern. “The other week, in the quad. You were pretty stressed.”

“Final paper.”

“Dissertation?”

“Working up to that,” you say.

“So you’re a scholar scholar.”

“Mm.” Your laptop screen blinks to black. “Something like that.” You hear Jimin snicker. He’s coiled up, stomach caved in a tiny laugh, eyes crinkled. Too amused. “What?”

“I’m just—” Jimin takes a breath in to stem his impending laughing fit— “so confused. Like, there’s Jeongguk who can eat eight cups of spicy ramen and literally bomb the bathroom with his shit—and then right next to him is Jane Goodall but with human babies.”

“He loves spicy ramen,” you comment.

“Yeah but do we like his stank? Nope. And you really just compared pronatalism to liking ramen. You know you’re out of his league.”

Jeongguk, completely oblivious to Jimin’s really weird anecdote, brings a fist up in cheers when he shoots the puck into the net. “Well. At the very least he’s cute.”

Jimin heeds with a hum to watch the play on ice. Seeing the team skate around with their broad-shoulders and thick helmets is an odd kind of relaxation. A team of huge men cutting the ice with knives on their feet but the sound is a swish satisfying enough for those kinds of videos that put you to sleep. Rough and gentle, just like Jeongguk. “I’m glad Jeongguk met you,” Jimin starts again.

“Mm. I think he has you to thank.” You boot up your laptop once more in the hopes you get inspired to type, but now Jimin has you distracted even more.

“He just… used to be so quiet. And I’m gonna brag here but he’s got good friends. But meeting you was a game-changer.”

“Hm.”

“He was so passive.” You think to Jimin almost two years ago, pushing a slightly-smaller Jeongguk towards your table at the market. One look in your eye; pointing to the donut closest to him. Your finger touched his palm when you dropped the chocolate-glazed on it and he looked lost. “But now he’s just. Happy. All the time. It’s nice to see.”

There’s 97 again. Then Jeongguk turns and glides closer to the rail. He holds up ten fingers. Ten till over. You give a thumbs up. You feel yourself shivering but you’re not cold anymore. “Then I’m glad, too.”

“Good kid.” Jimin waves too, and Jeongguk skates off without looking at him. “Bitch! Anyway.” He leans back on his hands, feet perched on the row in front. “You guys… good now?”

And your screen fades to black again. “Oh god.”

“Sorry, fuck. Sometimes I think—no sometimes I don’t think. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, whatever.” You turn to Jimin looking very apologetic, keeping mum with his lips folded in. “It’s—he’s. A lot more eager, I have to say.”

“And are you okay with that?”

You hesitate. “I mean if we’re getting vulgar here—”

“Absolutely not, you are not telling me what he did with his dick.”

You raise your hands in surrender. You wouldn’t have told him anyway. It’s just nice to see a flustered Jimin, especially after what he’s subjected you and Jeongguk to. Good-natured but overtly so, and now you’re both blushing. “It’s been good.”

Great. Now you’re thinking about Jeongguk and his cock again. Obviously it’s not unwelcome but riling you up is getting too easy.

“Then that’s good,” Jimin says. You hear the blow of the whistle. A congregation of fist bumps forms at the exit of the rink, and Jeongguk lets everyone pass him to get off. “Well I’m gonna go get ready for some free food. See you, yeah?”

He offers a high-five you hit hard. “Bye.”

“Oh. And good luck on your paper. You coming to the game by the way?” Jimin asks. He jumps off the bleachers, leaving you to stare at your honest attempt at getting work done. You close your laptop with a sad click.

“I have an awards ceremony that day,” you explain. “I’ll try and catch it.”

“Don’t work too hard.” Just then, Jeongguk runs up behind Jimin not at all silently—his gym bag is ginormous—to catch him in a headlock. “Wha—”

“Why are you talking to my girlfriend,” Jeongguk interrogates. He’s probably wet with heat because Jimin scrunches his nose and shoves him off.

“You’re a pig, did you even shower.”

“Smell my armpits and you’ll get your answer.”

“Anyway,” Jimin groans. “I’m off.” He walks to the changing room in a swagger so calculated you’d yell at him for showing off his ass. But Jeongguk drags your attention away when he steps in front of the bleachers, leaning over until you greet him with a kiss.

“Hi,” Jeongguk says against your mouth.

You plug your nose for effect. “So you didn’t shower.”

“I rinsed! Don’t be mean.” He watches as you shove all your things into your bag, his hand poised for you to give it to him, and inside you falter at his generosity but you shoulder the strap and use his outstretched palm to help you up instead. “I wanted your bag, miss.”

“No, you already have a heavy one.”

“Let me carry it for you—” But you shut him up with a tiptoe and a peck to his open mouth. “Don’t distract me!”

You ignore him, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the exit. “Let’s go, I might miss my bus.”

Eight p.m. is a dead hour on campus grounds. You see only a handful of straggling students going back to res, even more going into the library building. The lamps guide your every step. Jeongguk’s fingers tangle in yours. “So you aren’t free at all the rest of the week right?”

“Yeah.” You try not to look at him because you know he’s pouting. “I didn’t get any work done thanks to your shouting.”

“That was Yoongi,” Jeongguk defends. “And sorry.”

You reach the bus shelter. “I’m kidding.” The neon sign overhead says your bus is due in three minutes. “I’m—I like going to your practice.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I like seeing my star hockey player tear it up on the ice,” you joke. Jeongguk laughs into your lips when he bends down lock them with his own.

“Was it sexy enough for you?”

“Oh yeah. Got my pussy rumbling.”

He balks. “You’re so annoying.”

Two minutes. “It’s starting again.”

“What is?” In the dark light of the evening moon rising, you are reminded of this bus shelter seven months ago. A tower of nerves over you. If you think hard enough, you can still hear the shaky question he’d let dangle from his tongue, the one that has you here with him now. But now Jeongguk is nervous for different reasons. “Oh, like when you disappear on me for like five years.”

You see the light of the bus coming. You wrap Jeongguk in your arms. “Yeah. I’m only free next week.”

“Take it easy,” he says. Only one person gets off at the stop. “Just text me. Don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Last time—a month into your relationship. When you texted him every four days because of your midterms and he’d gotten so worried he genuinely wept when you showed up to his doorstep. It was a good thing you’d brought food too; not that you were expecting a cry fest but he’d felt better once he was filled with fried noodles and your affection. You concede to his request with a nod.

He lets you leave with one last kiss to your forehead. “See you,” you say. The air is alive with what you have to leave behind for the time being.

The week is rough. Professor Kwon asks you to submit marks sooner than you anticipate, so the need to get your paper done becomes a lot more urgent. One student hasn’t even handed in her assignment, which—fine. You don’t have any qualms about the zero you input. But the angry email with the threat to report you to an academic advisor the next day has you so on edge Namjoon agrees to grade half your assignments next time.

Jeongguk, somehow, eludes you too. Graduate school demands more tears than sweat and blood and while he tries his best to comfort you during your work-filled days, he’s been getting busier with hockey practice too. The added thought of starting to study for your exams is just another cake-topper. And it isn’t as if you’re going days without talking to Jeongguk, but it’s still a sting to the romantic part in you that misses him.

A week and a half before your big paper is due is a Tuesday. The girl who dissed you in your email doesn’t show up to tutorial. Everyone is dismissed for the evening. It’s good.

Nothing beats the giddy jump in your step when you find a cubby in the library close enough to an outlet, though.

Then you get a text from Jeongguk.

[8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m free the rest of the night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me love u bich u really deprived me of touch for an entire week [8:07 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wya

He meets you at the library with sweaty bangs and indents on his cheek from his helmet. You briefly contemplate jumping him. The feeling is quelled with the reminder that the library doesn’t tolerate loud noises and Excessive Romantic Gestures, so you opt for:

“Sexy.” You’re up on your feet to give him a quick hug and he makes a disgruntled face before dropping a kiss to your mouth.

“You wet yet?”

You glare to hide the need to balk. You plop back down. “You ate pussy once, don’t think this gives you free points to get so cocky.”

He pauses. “Sorry?”

“Sit. And don’t—ask me that again.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jeongguk cowers into the seat next to you. “What’s my scholar up to tonight?”

“Researching about Western Europe and their refugee policies.”

He doesn’t look like he’s interested but he makes a contemplative noise. “Very… educated. But anyhow. I’ve been thinking.” Uh oh. “And I have something. It was a week-long thought process but I have it.”

Your pens roll along the wood of the desk. “Have what?”

“A plan.”

“For?”

“For how I’m gonna fuck you. Eventually, I mean.”

“I leave you for a week and this happens,” you answer, but he’s not fazed. You feel yourself melting. Something you learned about Jeongguk during the preliminary stages of your relationship was that he liked getting things right. And if that meant practicing until he was ready—well. There’s a part in you that fears for the livelihood of your vagina. “Babe. That’s—you know we don’t need some sort of… five-steps-to-success thing.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” He pouts like you have it all wrong. Maybe you do, but it doesn’t sound so convincing to your—to be frank—non-virgin ears. “Good practice.”

You knew he would say that. “You have something in your noggin already, boy?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna elaborate?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “What do people normally establish before they start having sex?”

“Well I don’t have lice in my pubic hair if that’s what you wanna know,” you offer.

He scrunches his face. “Don’t—joke about that.”

“Sorry.” Jeongguk gives you an incredulous look because you both know you don’t mean it. “But you really wanna do this here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, lay it on me.”

“Wait—really?”

You’re starting to think you won’t get any work done for the night. Like all the nights you spend with Jeongguk and you realize the pattern now, so you might as well indulge in him. “Yeah, go pull on all your pornographic roots.”

“Ha ha.”

“I’m not into getting tied up, first of all.” You flip a page in your textbook to feign nonchalance as Jeongguk wheezes.

“Stop that!” But he just takes a piece of paper and readies a fist to write. “You’re so crude.”

Now you really can’t focus. “Are you seriously going to write about my sexual preferences?”

“No, I’m writing a detailed observation about how to go about. You know.” He purses a lip in thought. “Navigating the ocean of your pussy and its desires.”

You didn’t think the library would be home to both of your sexual awakenings, but Jeongguk makes it hard to be shy when he’s this motivated. “Weird way of asking me if I’m into watersports.”

“Okay you have to take back asking me about my pornographic roots because it sounds like you’re the freakier one.”

“You like me being freaky?”

He reddens. “Anyway!” (Silently, you revel in your power to tease.) “I was thinking. Since we can’t hang out too much the next week-ish, that we save all the good stuff for later.”

Good point. “Define good stuff.”

Jeongguk gets smaller. Eyes drilled into yours, he whispers, “Putting my penis inside you.”

“Okay now it’s getting weird.”

He drops his pencil in disbelief. “Only now? Tell me how any of this wasn’t weird in the first place.”

“You’re literally the one who took out a pencil to jot down my sexual preferences, don’t act like you’re innocent.” Now he has the decency to look sheepish. He doesn’t say anything. “Jeongguk. It’s fine to be nervous. But I don’t want you to feel like you need to do this.”

You might as well be talking to the wall but he nods anyway. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! Just… you don’t owe anyone anything.” Something in you longs for him to understand that. You hate to make him nervous but Jeongguk is so adamant you almost want to wrap him in your arms from the sexually-inclined horde that came in the form of Park Jimin. “Remember that.”

He deflates with a sigh. “Then… can you come over tomorrow?” He’s squirming. “I’m done practice at seven.”

“If my advisor’s nice enough she’ll let me off at six,” you confirm.

Jeongguk takes a notebook out but makes no effort to open it. “And. I missed you. Just. Wanted to get that out there.”

There’s only so much texting can do, you get it. The pit of your stomach simmers with affection for the dumb boy sitting next to you, legs jumping the way they do when he’s nervous. “Love you.” And he smiles. Fuel for your listlessness. There are papers to write, and virgins to daydream about. Especially about the one who just propositioned you with absurdities. But now his pencil is out, and the moment is lost.

You can think about Jeongguk’s dick later. For now, you settle in the quietude of his presence with yours.

It’s a colder day today.

“Hi!” Taehyung opens the door, bouncing in his pyjamas from the rush of freezing air. “Come, come. Please don’t ask me how I’ve been, I’m so tired of school and that’ll be my answer and I don’t want to talk about it.”

You swallow your pleasantries down. He’s a stressed Neuroscience major. “Fair,” you greet instead, toeing your boots off.

“Coming from somewhere?”

“Tutorial evaluation,” you say. Taehyung lets out a low whistle, closes the door behind you. He knows your shoulders are stiff because of Professor Kwon’s watchful gaze. Sitting at the back, ramrod straight with that black clipboard, taking down notes on your performance as a first-time TA.

She’d let you go after with a smile, though. Let you know you did fine. You’d practically glided to residence when she’d given you the go to leave for the day.

“I have a question for you,” Taehyung says. He sits on the couch, watches as you take off your snow-soiled scarf and jacket. “Has Jeongguk been more… fidgety lately?”

So he’s noticed too. “Yeah, I’ve—seen it. Why?”

“I don’t know, he sort of just—” Taehyung scoots over when you plop down next to him— “he came out of the room yesterday squealing, then ran around the living room for a bit then just. Went back into his room.”

Oh. So that’s what he was off to do when said he needed to get something after you linked him to your favourite porn accounts on Twitter.

“Maybe it’s just. I don’t know, pre-game jitters,” you lie. Taehyung’s giving you the look. Like he’s not satisfied with your answer and the only way to sate him is if you let him do one thing. “You can ask.”

“Did you fuck him yet?”

No reservations. As expected, because he’s just as nosy as Jimin and the rest of their friends annoyingly concerned with Jeongguk’s hesitation in the bedroom. “Nope.”

“Okay but like—can you fuck him already? I’m gonna be rolling in my grave by the time his penis passes the two-inch border of your personal space.”

You can’t keep in your snort. “Oh my god.”

“Just. We really don’t mean to be so standoffish but he just likes you so much it’s insane. Like I’ll see his phone light up and he will too. He’ll literally—he just glows. It’s kind of creepy actually but like. Cute creepy.”

The rush of praise runs through you. You don’t like to brag, but you really did snag the campus boy crush. You were popular enough with academia, but after the first time Jeongguk posted a picture of you two at the Christmas market, though—the entire student body went ballistic. It was the nascence of a fairy tale; movie romance budding in the grey concrete of campus grounds.

No one saw it coming. And knowing that the one everyone has their eye on has its eyes on you—it’s a good kind of blow.

“He’s my baby,” you say, and Taehyung coos. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.”

There’s a rattling of the door knob. The sight of a ragged Jeongguk stumbles in, gym bag dropped on the floor and he disappears down the hall with the call for a shower and a brief smile your way. “I’ll be five minutes, babe.”

That’s Taehyung’s cue. “Well—I’m off to study group. Take care of him, yeah?”

“You know it.” You offer a fist bump. Taehyung’s knuckles are bony on yours.

The trek to Jeongguk’s room isn’t unfamiliar. You bounce back on his bed, willing yourself not to close your eyes because you know you’ll just crash. A headache prepares right behind your temple, as imminent as rumbling thunder. Something in you calls for Jeongguk to hurry the fuck up before you succumb to Stress and those horrible, horrible thoughts of due dates.

It doesn’t take that long. There’s the squeak of the shower handle turning off and the black of your closed eyes, the scurrying of an unseen body; the lifting of your shirt for a very heavy weight of a hockey player blowing raspberries into the skin of your stomach. Jeongguk chortles when you nearly break your back trying to dislodge him. “You’re—oh my god—hey stop!”

“Hi,” he says, laugh caught in his breath, “I’m clean.”

“I see that.” He’s in his pyjamas. You let him settle on your side. The lingering heat from his shower makes you clammy but you let him hold you tight. “How was practice?”

“It was nice.” This is code for: I wasn’t yelled at by Yoongi. “I’m excited for our game, I’m feelin’ good. Did you find out if you could make it?”

You were blessed by the gods, because not only were your days coinciding, they were also starting an hour within each other. You’d be at the podium with a flowery speech while Jeongguk tears the ice rink with his pretty skates. And if every award recipient’s was longer than a minute then you might miss the entire game. Two hours past Jeongguk most likely scoring the winning goal; an infinity lost to see your star in action.

(And seeing Jeongguk play is really attractive.)

You settle with: “I’ll try my best.”

“Okay,” he says. The crown of his head digs into your neck. You feel his lips when he speaks. “How are you holding up?”

“Barely.”

“Did you get your paper done?”

“Barely.”

“So it’s done.”

“Let’s not talk about school,” you dismiss. He leaves the conversation to wither with a suction to your skin. Wet where he lines your neck with quick kisses and you soften into the sheets. “Is this your way of—executing your plan.”

“Hm?”

“You know—your—guide to putting your penis inside me.”

He leans up on his elbow. Unimpressed because his eyebrows are scrunched. “Funny.”

“You love me.”

“And what about it?” His eyes shine the way they do before he tells you he loves you too. “It isn’t even a plan it’s just—a buildup. To when my penis goes inside you. Like a countdown but with orgasms instead.” You snicker. He drags a light hand down your front, settling his palm right over your pussy. “Let me touch you.”

You forget how to breathe for a second. “Yeah—I’m—yeah. Please.”

“Sit up.” Jeongguk plants himself near the wall, not unlike the position he was in when you sucked his dick for the first time. Instead of the afternoon heat, you’re caught under the dying evening rays of sunset: not as hot but still you feel the spark in your belly when Jeongguk lifts your bum to settle you between his legs. His nails play with the button of your pants. “I wanna try something.”

“Sure.” And he helps you wiggle off your clothes, bottom bare to his graces. Doesn’t say anything, just lets his mouth meet yours slowly, tasting the day off your tongue, your worries behind his teeth.

“Anyone ever fingered you so hard you cried?”

“You wanna make me cry?”

“Don’t say it like that.” Jeongguk nips at your lip. “But yeah, I guess.”

You’re wet. This is a fact you come to realize when you feel him spread your legs, feet planting in the mattress in an attempt to ground yourself. “Okay,” you agree.

His mouth’s busy with yours, lips unyielding like he could do this all day. It’s almost picturesque, the way he has you: head turned over to meet him in his love, arms wrapped around your own. Yours for him to savour and he always tastes good.

He doesn’t wait anymore. Your clit throbs with the passes of his fingers, head falling back to rest on Jeongguk’s shoulder when he dips in the pool of your heat and drags it back up. Groaning when he spins tight circles like you taught him and your hands find his thighs. “Feels—good,” you utter. Already you’re gone but Jeongguk feeds into your pleasure with no qualms for your embarrassment.

“Can I—put in a finger?” He asks shyly, but playing with your slick like he’s known how to make you putty in his hands this whole time.

“Yeah. Please.” You welcome the insistence in your sex with the buck of your hips. Jeongguk curls his middle finger up, the heel of his hand smooth on your clit and you sigh, “Ooh, fuck yeah.”

He kisses your cheek. “Another one?”

“I can take it,” you say, and he has another finger in you, hooking into your nerves. You might moan but Jeongguk turns your head and molds his mouth into yours, stealing your breath with his tongue. He curves in a little too hard and you squeal. “Oh my god, too—much.”

“Sorry.” He adjusts, fingers straight again. “M’gonna go faster, if that’s okay.” You nod, restless, and then he adds: “And you can’t look away from me.”

“Yes please—”

You couldn’t look away even if you tried, because the hand not fucking you into oblivion catches your cheeks, locking you to Jeongguk’s gaze. It’s a fucked out one too, and now you notice his hard dick pressed up against your back.

It’s a storm of thrusting: wet and more wet and now he abruptly pulls out, smears your slick on your clit in a rub so fast you would squeal louder if it weren’t for his lips swallowing your sounds.

“Oh-h—!”

You burn. Jeongguk enters you again and your cunt feels swollen. Fucking all the deepest and dirtiest parts of you and you take it, yielding to the draw on your tight walls. The squelch gets louder. So do you.

“Oh yeah—” And you don’t cry but the feeling of him inside is so overwhelming and all that you need and it’s there— “Fuck, y-eah. Gonna cum soon—”

“Give it to me.” Punctuated with a twist in your sex so rough you would have twitched him off but his legs cage you. Jeongguk smiles. “Come on babe—”

“Nnn—ha J-Jeongguk—” You grab his wrist, the one knocking his fingers so good though he doesn’t stop under the tight hold— “B-Baby—”

“I want it, I want it,” he chants into your mouth, like he’s eager for a release conducive to your early death just so he can say he did that. Awful cocky but you can’t dwell on it. “Just cum for me.”

“Fuck—” He makes you look at him when you do, eyes wide to his imploring ones. He has it in his fingers, a climax that wrangles the most obscene noises from your throat. Your hips grind up uncontrollably, clit a pulsing pain but his thumb rubs it all the same. Jeongguk doesn’t stop till you whine, “God, please—I can’t."

“You’re crying.”

“Am not.” But you feel the sting of heat in your eyes. Jeongguk rubs his nose with yours, wrapped in his arms and affection.

“Was it good though?”

“Was it good, he says.” You kiss him with no bite. “Loved it. Best ever.”

Jeongguk lights up, corners of his mouth lifted into a sated grin. “Woo,” he says. You’re about to ask if he wants one rubbed out but he continues speaking. “So plan’s going well if you wanted to know.”

“Shut up. Shut up!” You make a point of getting up with as much force as possible, disturbing the coils the mattress as Jeongguk laughs. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me.”

Your panties are sticky against you. You turn to see him staring at you already. “I love you.”

The room glows in the last few minutes of red, coated darker and darker. But the look Jeongguk gives you—maybe astonishment, maybe longing—casts a glow that blazes within. Like all he wants is for you to be here and you do too. He breaks the silence with a smile. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You climb back over him, unable to resist anymore. “So I’ve been told.”

“I mean it though.” He shifts so you’re lying down again, head on his chest. Warm again. “Sorry if I’m—pushing the agenda. And I know I say Jimin’s not getting to me and it’s true but it—makes me want you. All the time.”

You settle for the truth with a kiss to his sternum. “I have no free time after today though.”

“That’s okay,” Jeongguk whispers. “Just love me now and you can always love me later.”

“I can do that,” you say.

He lets you dig into his side even further. “Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about school?”

“Mm.” You know it’ll help to air your dirty laundry. But knowing Jeongguk has his own shit to deal with is enough for you to hesitate. “Nothing I—haven’t said before. Just stressed.”

“About your last assignment?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re smart. And for whatever reason, really into baby-making in foreign countries.” Jeongguk groans when you pinch him. “But I know you. And you’ll do well. Also it’s official that you’ll do well because you’re dating someone really good at what they do, and I was just inside your body so technically my energy transferred to you.”

“Very solid process.”

His breathes warmth into your skin. “Believe me. You’re gonna be fine.”

And it’s not the end of the world, not being able to see him for a bit. You both know this. You hug him tighter to you regardless, like making his skin stick to yours was an actuality. You know he feels it too when his arm locks just a tiny bit harder. An unspoken longing for the mold of your body.

You’ll get there.

It’s been four days since you’ve seen Jeongguk, so Namjoon takes the responsibility of keeping you sane. He books a study room for three hours and meets you with a two cups of coffee and three extra pens just in case they run out while you mark your assignments together. He takes the stack of papers from you with a frown, and you work.

The paper is coming along well. You think you have a good five pages to go, but the amount of hounding Professor Kwon has done is scaring you into another late night-in. More and more marks are due, and Namjoon has his own work to deal with. You hate to burden him with your own but now you’re really feeling the Stress from school.

[6:01 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey what are you doing [6:02 PM] You: i’m doing work :(( [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Poo poo [6:02 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m bored [6:03 PM] You: 💩💩 [6:03 PM] You: sorry bout it !!!!!!! [6:04 PM] You: wait how can u be bored ur @ practice ?? if ur just…. doin practice [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On break [6:05 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: And I miss you [6:06 PM] You: omg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [6:06 PM] You: my heart

Namjoon’s eyebrows are scrunched. “I can’t tell what this student is saying.”

“Read it out loud.”

“I will argue that the legalization of crack cocaine will act as a beneficial potential towards the bettering of society. With the advent of legal marijuana usage in Canada—yeah.”

“That’s… an abuse of thesaurus privileges,” you comment.

He hums. “They’re young, let them live.”

Again, Jeongguk texts you.

[6:09 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When are you free [6:10 PM] You: tonight [6:10 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I’m not 😩😩 What about Wednesday? [6:11 PM] You: i’m only free rn baby :( might have to wait till after friday [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Damn [6:12 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I need to go now text me when you’re done k?????? Love you [6:13 PM] You: okay ! 💜

You hear Namjoon snapping at you. “You’re getting distracted.”

“Sorry.” Your pen twitches in your grip. This is your third cup of coffee. “Just—need a goddamn break.

You can sense Namjoon’s nerves grating too. “I get it.” He looks at his watch. “Well. We need to leave in five minutes.”

You graded almost all of your half of assignments. You let yourself breathe a sigh of accomplishment, clearing your work into your bag. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Buy me lunch someday and we’ll call it even,” Namjoon says. He swipes the papers your way to collect. “And by the way—” he takes one last sip of his coffee— “I caught wind that one of the Commissioner-Generals is coming to the ceremony.”

You stare. “From which agency?”

“No clue. But I just thought you should know.”

Of course he would. The one time you don’t clear your search history and now Namjoon is up your ass helping you find any potential global PhD programs. And it wasn’t unimaginable either, some higher-up coming to see the semester-end awards the department heads organized, and the student chair had a lot of say in it, current one being Kim Namjoon: a lobbyist, a smart guy, and Twitter-sort-of-famous for being really damn loud about inequality.

But they’re probably not recruiting me, you think. Best not to get your hopes up lest it go to a well-deserved head who apparently doesn’t get distracted by the potential of finally squeezing their boyfriend’s dick.

Namjoon sighs. “Hey, isn’t the ceremony the same day as the game?”

“Yep,” you confirm. For a split second, an image of Jeongguk giggling pops up into your head.

“Do you think you’ll make it?”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, standing outside the door until Namjoon turns off all the lights. “I’m gonna try.”

The hallway to the main entrance of the Humanities wing is quiet. “Speaking of the game. Any intel about your current… predicament?”

“Jimin?”

“Jimin.”

“About Jeongguk?”

“About Jeongguk.”

“Fuck,” you murmur. And you thought he’d be kind enough to keep your secret, but Namjoon is to Jimin like a big is to a little except they’re both too posh to be in a frat. “Not really. And stay out of it.”

“I will,” he says. He opens the door, winter wind as brutal as ever. You think about Jeongguk walking you to the bus stop but he’s probably already back at his dorm. You shiver. “But if I catch you distracted on your phone again I might have to ask.”

You cower into embarrassment.“Sorry.”

Namjoon waves you off. “Just get home safe, yeah?”

Getting home isn’t that bad; late enough for the absence of the rush hour crowd and you get to sit on the bus the rest of the ride. You all but book it to your place to escape the frost nipping at your cheeks and into the nest of your textbooks. Plans to demolish at least a tiny bit of your not-so-tiny pile of work come to a stand-still when you hear your phone vibrate.

[7:46 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hey did u finish yet [7:46 PM] You: fuck sorry forgot to text [7:46 PM] You: yeah i did, i just got home [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: That’s good [7:47 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Do you have a lot of work to do tonight?? [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please say no [7:48 PM] You: ….. [7:48 PM] You: why [7:48 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The plan [7:50 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Still building [7:50 PM] You: should i be scared [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But [7:51 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I know you wouldn’t like it if I didn’t ask, and I’m a good boy, so [7:52 PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can I send you a picture of my dick?

A boot hangs limply from your toes from when you were trying to tug it off. Dumbly, you’re gaping. Gaping at this transition from shy Jeongguk to… whatever the fuck this was. The pulsing of your sex betrays your shock.

It’s not like things were changing fast, either. That moment in his bed—after he fucked you with his fingers—was the last time you’d been together. A solid evening of knotted arms and Jeongguk’s breath down your neck. He’d only let you go because your complaints to do homework got too loud for him to sleep properly, and you left him in his room like that: heavy-eyed and full of low murmurs for you to come back.

“You’ll miss me, right?” He’d asked. It sounded so innocent. Looked like it too when he stood next to you as you slipped on your shoes. The answer was easy.

“Duh.”

And it wasn’t like you weren’t affectionate. Sure, gaining the impulse to hug and squeeze him was one you had to work up to, but this came with new relationships, that novelty of being someone else’s: one that Jeongguk had no problems getting used to. Took you a little longer to warm up to his kisses in public but you’re here now. Here, slack-jawed at this distant intimacy. Feet mired in your shock, on the carpet of your front door.

You don’t remember feeling this desperate for Jeongguk before.

[7:54 PM] You: i [7:54 PM] You: definitely wouldn’t be opposed

You lock your screen fast. Fling your shoes off, slap your jacket onto a hanger. You nearly bust your bedroom down in your hurry to get the fuck on the bed, like the rush of a late night with a stranger but Jeongguk is wholly familiar and isn’t even here to touch you. The ding of your phone is enough to keep you on your toes. You don’t swipe yet because already you’re sweating.

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo and 2 Messages

Should you take your clothes off? Or is he supposed to ask you to do that? Should you ask? What the fuck. This was too much.

You open it. It takes one second to download.

That’s his dick. Jeongguk’s dick, flash on, held up by the tips of his fingers at the base like he knows his angles. The tip is flushed with a wetness you’d lick right up if you were there just to feel the way he shivers under you.

[7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby I’m so hard [7:55PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna kiss you all over

You squeal.

This was your boyfriend, mister-campus-hotboy, the one literally everyone got hard over and now he’s sending you his own personal dick pics. Maybe you do need to thank the high heavens one day because

What

The

Fuck is going on.

No matter.

[7:57PM] You: i want u to [7:57PM] You: want u on top of me [7:57PM] You: with ur lips on my neck [7:58PM] You: getting me wet. u always make me. wet

You can’t wait anymore. Your shirt is off, bra tossed, back bare on your sheets. You shimmy out of your pants just as Jeongguk texts back.

[7:58PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fcurck baby [7:59PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can’t stop thinnking abt u [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: The way u sounded [8:00PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: When I was e ating u out [8:01PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: u tasted so good on m y tonguel fucckkkk [8:01PM] You: are u jacking off rn ??? [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yess [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Touch urself [8:02PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Please?

Panties come off. It’s not a surprise when your finger is soaked in your arousal, teasing your clit and you sigh.

[8:02PM] You: fuck im so wet [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Yeah??? [8:03PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: What r u thinkgnin about [8:03PM] You: your mouth [8:04PM] You: on my tits [8:04PM] You: my cunt [8:04PM] You: u got me off sooo good [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Fuucckckk baby [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re so hot ho ly shit [8:05PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Want u so bad [8:06PM] You: how??? [8:06PM] You: u already treat me so good [8:06PM] You: maybe i’’ll take care of u now hm? ?? [8:07PM] You: mymouth on ur dick [8:07PM] You: taste so good [8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Shit

Everything was jumping out of your head so quick your one hand couldn’t keep up. The two fingers on your pussy dipped again, jolts of sweetness straight through your nerves when you rub yourself faster. Focusing on his texts was as easy as trying to stave your orgasm off, which… really wasn’t going too well, pelvis meeting the palm of your hand in a desperate kick.

[8:08PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Take your clothes off [8:09PM] You: past that

It takes him a minute.

[8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Could you send a pic [8:10PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Pleas e

Oh. Okay.

You lean up on your elbow, push your chest against your bicep in the hopes that your cleavage could somewhat be evocative enough in the weak light of your phone. (You notice you forgot to turn the lights on.) The picture cuts off right above your nipples, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t do that just for the possibility of a desperate plea. You lie back down.

Sent.

[8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: urruhguhgkehrdhfg [8:13PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Baby pleease I want more [8:14PM] You: of what ??? [8:14PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: FUck [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I want you [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: On top of me [8:15PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Grnding yuor pretty pussy on my dick [8:16PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You’re wet ik ur wet

Of course he would. He knows your body better than ever before, and you might tease him but the throbbing you’re attending to is too much of a distraction.

[8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Can you imagine that [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Teasig my cock into you [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I won’t putnit in yet [8:17PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Bc I want u squirming o n top of me [8:18PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ik u don’t beg [8:19PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I would ask u anyway if u want me to sink u down on my cock

Oh my god. The soft sucking sound of your fingers inside your cunt isn’t enough to drag you out of this reverie. It just sinks you deeper into this bliss Jeongguk spells out for you so well. He has you like putty. Your knuckles curve you into a hopeless whimper.

[8:20PM] You: i want that [8:20PM] You: iwa nt that so bad pleas [8:21PM] You: let me feel your dick inside [8:21PM] You: u want that so bad baby [8:21PM] You: to feel me squeezing around u [8:21PM] You: im so tight and wwt [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Wanna hear u [8:22PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Ft [8:22PM] You: just call

You don’t think you could handle seeing his dick now. Especially when the build in your pussy is this close to tipping you into a climax he probably wants to hear.

Your phone blares in the quiet. “Baby—”

“I’m so close,” Jeongguk says. He sounds like he’s panting. “Tell me you are too. Please—!” He cuts himself off with a gasp.

“Y-Yeah.” You burn in his desperation, curling into your cunt in the spot you know would have you keeling over. “Ngh—!”

“I wanna hear you. Wanna—hear you when I fuck you. So—good.”

“Oh fuck—”

“You want that too baby?”

You heave. “Yes!”

“Let me hear you cum. Please. I’m so fucking close—”

“Jeongguk!” You sputter, moaning loud, crying in the extremity. It zips through your core, has you reeling, legs shaking as you rub it out so hard you arch from your bed. You barely register Jeongguk’s own completion.

“Fuck I’m cumming—shit!” He groans, long, noisy on the line but the image of his cum onto his hands has your stomach clenching. Clobbered by his own doing and it’s almost endearing how fucked out he sounds. There’s a moment where you hear fumbling, a distant breath; shifts in the mattress probably. “Baby…”

Your phone lights up again.

Aa…Jeongguk❣️: 1 Photo

You don’t hesitate this time.

His dick is wet, probably with his spit, but now his entire first is closed around it, dregs of his cum pooling in the suction of his palm against the pink skin. The urge to put your mouth on him is so over-whelming you groan in frustration.

“Want it in my mouth,” you say.

“You’ll make me hard again,” Jeongguk murmurs with a laugh.

It’s just past 8:30. “So. What got you so hard that had you begging for me over the phone?”

“Hm.” You move until you’re under the covers. A makeshift warmth because you don’t have Jeongguk to cuddle you for post-sex softness. “I don’t know. Just missed you. Again. Sorry if you had work to do.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah I’m not.” You think you hear him in the washroom. The vent is loud. “Made a mess.”

“Not my fault.”

“Uh, it kinda was. Hoping for more nipple next time.”

“Now you’re asking for too much,” you sigh. There’s a sleepy pull in your head, dragging you through the waves of feelings that currently bombard your heart. “I miss you too. Hope you’re not working too hard.”

“I have a bruise on my ass! Oh my god I forgot to tell you. But Hoseok checked me so hard for no fucking reason and—boom. Landed right on my booty.”

You coo. “Aw. Want me to kiss it better?”

“Yes please, it’s on my fatter butt-cheek I think.”

It dies down again. “So what stage are we at for your build-up?”

“Close to the finale.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. There’s only three days left till your prospective hells come to a head. Then it’s back to loving Jeongguk but closer to him this time, not through the cracked screen of your phone. “Can’t wait.”

“Me too,” Jeongguk says. “Guess—I should leave you to your work?”

As much as you want to say no, the pile of essays on your desk is calling for your ass to get moving. It sends a quick ripple of nervous tension down your spine but the sooner you get it done the sooner it is to texting Jeongguk again. You know he’s impatient too. “Yeah. Might stay up.”

“Not too late, okay? You’re almost there. And make that tea I bought you, it’s supposed to help with your headaches.”

You’ll cry. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Text me when you’re gonna sleep.”

You’re probably ovulating because a tear really does slip over your cheek. The stickiness between your thighs rubs your skin when you finally get up, avoiding the offensive stack of work in your periphery when the hints of a new headache start to come up.

Jeongguk probably knew you were heading straight into another painful night of working. There’s a tin of loose leaf tea sitting patiently for you in your cupboard. And maybe taking on the teaching position wasn’t such a good idea, but then again, dates where everything loomed over you were inevitable. School’s a bitch. But you have an attractive boy waiting for you to finish, and that’s what prompts you to face the music. One more time.

Three more nights.

The first night is actually okay. You get a page and half done, and Namjoon checks in with a text in the evening to make sure you aren’t pulling your teeth out. Jeongguk has practice the whole day.

During the second night, you forget to save one of the articles you cited, and you spend a frantic hour searching through all your sources to trace it back. It’s a painful process and you almost cry, but you text Jeongguk and he sends you a selfie of him sending you a thumbs up. Your phone lags trying to scroll through the gigantic box of of hearts he texts you. You find the article. It’s good.

Third night and you’re about ready to give up. Jeongguk and Namjoon are both out of commission because apparently the universe hates all of you and you’re all busy with your respective work. But you have a page to conquer, and the onus is on you to show up with nice skin tomorrow because the department likes to take pictures to post online. The tea Jeongguk got you steams as you type diligently.

One

Word

Andit’sdone.

“Oh god,” you whisper to yourself. You scroll through your paper, making sure all your citations are right. Page numbers there. No excessive use of the first-person, your professor’s name spelt correctly. Formatted correctly.

It’s done.

You bask in the harsh light of your desk lamp, weight lifted off your shoulders the instant you save your document to submit online.

The assignment page loads, and you hit the button.

The line of your phone rings twice.

“Hello?” Jeongguk groans. It’s three in the morning. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“I FINISHED I SUBMITTED IT IT’S IN!” You yell. A genuine rise in your throat that has Jeongguk whooping with as much energy as his sleep-ridden voice can allow on the other side of the line.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I wanna hop on your dick right now.”

Jeongguk just snickers. Your eyebrows raise, because for sure he would’ve been choking. But maybe it’s because he’s tired. “Don’t tempt me into a boner, it’s too early for this.”

“Fuck—sorry. You have your game. Okay I’ll hang up. I’m gonna—sleep. Try to. Okay I love you! Sorry bye!”

“Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You knock out the second your light is off and your head hits the pillow.

You asked Namjoon earlier in the day to call you awake because your ringtone is more annoying than your alarm. And even though the ceremony is later in the evening, you’re scared that you’ll sleep the entire day away.

Jeongguk texts you before you’re up. A congratulatory message, and another saying that he’ll be at practice the whole day so he’ll try to text you at lunch. But the afternoon sun sees no text from him and you know it’s because he’s sweating his balls off on the hockey rink. Stubborn like you know he is but now you miss him again.

One thing that sticks in your head the rest of the day: the thought of it being over. Because once you get your awards and hopefully get to see the end of the game, you get Jeongguk to yourself again. Two weeks of agonizing to get to this point all but crashes into your loins to spark a frighteningly hot fire, and now, once again, you’re left to fantasize about Jeongguk’s dick. You force yourself not to dwell on it too much, makeup a risk to your fidgeting and if the reason why you have an ugly picture up online is because you were longing for dick then—well.

It’s Namjoon who greets you when you get to the conference hall downtown.

“You look good,” is all he says.

You stick your tongue out at him. You had to redo your lipstick twice. “Shut up.”

He leads you to where he was sitting: the massive table stuck in the middle with the microphones sticking up along the perimeter. Maplewood and entirely unfitting for the green carpet, though Namjoon beats you before you can say anything mean. “If you look up front, that’s the Commissioner-General I was talking about.”

You look. She’s a petite woman, scarily thin, wearing a bright scarf. “Yoon Soomin,” you recognize.

“Correct.”

“Namjoon!” You hit his shoulder, and he winces with a grin. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“Because I knew you’d get stressed!”

Well he’s goddamn right you’re stressed now. Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of one of the programs you had your eyes on for the past year now. Applications are open next week. You’ve had yours done for a solid six months, and now the head of the program is right here. In the flesh. Watching you about to get your award.

The chatter of all the other students is drowned out when the program head gets up for the commencement speech. “Good evening everyone. My name is Bae Joohyun. Thank you—”

Ding.

Namjoon kicks your shin. You silence your phone. It’s Jeongguk.

[7:39PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Hi babe hope u had a good day!!! Sorry I got distracted [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: But I know ur gna win like fifty awards so advanced congrats!!!!!!! Proud of ur big brain [7:40PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Love you [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I hope you make it later pls try ur hardest but if u can’t it’s okay but like I would really appreciate if you. Came [7:41PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: OJO [7:42PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Heh Taehyung said that looks like me

There’s clapping. You don’t know why everyone’s clapping but you do it too.

[7:42PM] You: pls don’t break any limbs while i am here i won’t be fast enough [7:42PM] You: love u. play smart not hard. i’ll be there for ur final goal 🤪 [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: Anything for my scholar [7:43PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: You r so cute please come soon [7:44PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: I have to go now I LOVE You

“I will now invite the Student Chair Kim Namjoon forward to deliver a speech,” Professor Bae says.

No last text to Jeongguk because now you join the applause once more. Namjoon gets up with practiced ease, staggered steps of confidence because if anyone is going to get a PhD first, it’s him. And you know he applied for the program too.

It starts simple: “Thank you for coming today.” A celebratory gathering, gratitude for everyone’s hard work and commitment. A call for everyone to continue being ambassadors for the Humanities. Nothing you haven’t heard before.

“I would also like to announce that the department has decided to award a special recipient tonight for their academic work and contribution to graduate research,” Namjoon continues. “The award will be presented by Yoon Soomin, Commissioner-General of the Anthropology for the Humanities Global Network. Please give your warmest applause to Doctor Yoon.”

Oh god. Your literal idol because she was just as interested in babies as you were and Jeongguk would for sure be goading you into a frenzy because of your shaking. But you clap as normally as normal clapping goes, and Doctor Yoon takes the mic.

“I’ll just head straight into it,” she says with a pretty smile. You catch Namjoon looking at you. He raises an amused eyebrow, and now you’re suspicious. “It is an honour to call upon ___, for their recent submission of pronatalist work based in Europe for the research study funded by the Global Network.” That’s—you. That’s you, and these are your legs moving on their own accord to the beat of the eager applause. You don’t look at Namjoon but you can hear him, because he’s clapping the loudest. “___ has been recognized before: for an outstanding submission in undergraduate research on cultural genocide, as well as active participation in the Anthropological department.”

Yoon Soomin extends a hand to you, as well as a pretty certificate gilded with bold letters in the form of your name. Again: all offered by Yoon Soomin. Again, you are shaking.

“T—hank you,” you stammer, and her hand is soft in yours and you really just might cry but it’s probably because you’re exhausted. You’d slept for a solid ten hours but no amount of rest would have ever prepared you for her pretty voice congratulating you again. “I—It’s an honour.”

“Picture time,” Namjoon interrupts. He’s got his phone up. “Smile!”

“Congratulations again,” Doctor Yoon says. She grins like she knows something too, and the rest of the ceremony is static in your ears.

Like always, it’s repetition. A name called, award presented. Your name is exhausted three more times, and you’d cower under the attention but you worked too goddamn hard not get to this point. You think of Jeongguk, probably three to none even though it’s only been half an hour into the game. You and Namjoon are practically trembling when Professor Bae dismisses everyone.

Your jacket is on, purse about to swing over your shoulder when someone comes up to you.

“Hello.” Doctor Yoon again. “Oh—are you in a hurry?”

“Not at all,” you rush out. You can feel Namjoon vibrating too. “I—Thank you so much for presenting the award.”

“It was my pleasure. The overseas program application opens next week,” she advises, and you really might scream but you will yourself to stillness. “We don’t know where it’s based yet, but I hope that doesn’t discourage you from submitting your application.”

“Oh she’s been interested for years,” Namjoon offers. You elbow him. Doctor Yoon laughs.

“I’m glad to hear that. Keep up the good work!”

You all but skirt around her with a quick thank you again! and make a mad dash out the building and to the underground train because Namjoon sucks and can’t drive on highways yet. “Good thing you didn’t wear heels because you’re so fucking slow.”

“Shut up,” you growl. The people on the sidewalk offer no space for you to slither through, and you grind you teeth with impatience. “And don’t give me shit when I beat you four to one.”

“Not everyone’s into babies like you are, genius.” You reach the closest subway entrance, a seedy staircase down into the dirty cement and your fare is paid with a drop of a coin; running for the departing train and you make it by the wisp of your hair. You sigh into an empty seat, Namjoon right next to you. “Time.”

It’s nearing 9:00. “Oh my god it’s almost done.”

“You’ll make it,” Namjoon says. The jostling ride is another twenty minutes, and you know it’s cutting it short but you promised Jeongguk. He’s so close. You’re out of breath. “So you’re free now, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You worked hard.”

You scrunch your face in embarrassment. “Thanks Joonie.”

“I mean it,” he says. “No one deserves this more than you. Yeah? Cut yourself some slack.”

“I know—it’s just—I couldn’t be there for Jeongguk as much as I could have—” And it’s all coming out now. There’s only one other person on this cart other than Namjoon so you let yourself have the moment, the breakdown. The awfulness of preoccupation and missing your boyfriend and too much work. You don’t want to cry but the screech of the metal tracks makes it easier to hide. “‘M so fucking tired.”

Namjoon pats your back when you heave. “Two more stops. Then you can curse the gods all you want.”

Good incentive, because once the doors slide open on your stop you book it up the escalator as fast as your fatigue can allow. Luckily campus is right around the corner, cars taking up all the space on the road. Probably all here for the final match of the year, your university against the one a city over, and the cheers are so loud you hear it from the two sidewalks over. “Let’s go let’s go!”

And you and Namjoon run again, down to the set of doors of the arena nestled into the corner of your school. The doors are heavyset but you yank them like you’ll die if you aren’t inside within the next twenty seconds, and it’s only now that you feel the buzz of your phone from a text.

[8:58 PM] Jimin Bimin: I’m on the east side with taehyung, third from the bottom bleacher, mostly in the middle. hurry!!!!!!

Namjoon’s no doubt just following the beeline you make because even you can’t feel where your legs are taking you. All you know is the rush of school pride and the deafening yells of the crowd, lost bits of popcorn on the floor scrunching against your shoes as you search for Jimin. You see Taehyung first: warpaint on his face and he waves you over quickly, scooting over with a pull on Jimin to make room for Namjoon too.

“You made it!” Jimin screams and it still sounds like a squeak with the roar of the people everywhere.

But you ignore this, laser-beaming the rink for that familiar 97. You catch Jeongguk closely following the puck, stick clenched tightly in his fists, legs quick in their glide as the offence. You feel everyone’s bated breath, hands grabbing Jimin’s arm—the other team’s members flying past Jeongguk, the raise of the wood, a slap to the puck—

The red blares. The crowd goes wild.

“HE WON!” Jimin screams and so do you, the wave of excitement passing over you like fairy dust and now everyone’s cheering. You have no idea what went on. But now all the boys off the rink jump over the barrier to grab Jeongguk in a hard throttle, arms tangled around each other, chant lost on your ears but they look so happy.

Somehow, a body breaks away from the huddle, and now they’re skating in your direction.

Jeongguk waves. You smile. A wave back, and now you have each other again.

You wait outside the building, watching as the throngs disperse. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin already said their goodbyes, last felicitations from them both and a promise for lunch from you somehow gets squeezed from the conversation too. The brick is hard against your back.

[9:30PM] Aa…Jeongguk❣️: WHERE ARE YOU [9:30PM] You: i’m outside already!!

A door bursts open. There’s an inhale, then you turn your head. Jeongguk drops his bag the second you charge for him, arms ready for your attack as you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, arms caught on his neck. You think you hear someone gasp but it’s all lost on you now. “Oh my god I love you,” he breathes, and you cry. “Babe—”

“I watched you,” you sniffle, and you frown when he laughs. “Watched you win.”

“I’m glad.”

You kiss him. “Missed you.”

Jeongguk looks like he might cry too. “Mine again?”

“Yours again.” And you mean it.

“I would—I would invite you over to the after-party but I’m sleepy,” he says in between presses of his mouth, “and I ran out of contact solution the other day so I can’t invite you over and also Taehyung’s probably sleeping right now.”

“Then you come over.” You melt into his tongue, his feet staggering in your grind and he bites your lip.

“R-Really?”

“Yeah, actually get some shut-eye.” He lets you off when you wriggle your ass against his hands, dragging him to the bus stop before he can put them back against your jeans or else you might really fuck him this time. “Because Taehyung snores too loud anyway.”

The ride to your apartment totals eight minutes because it’s late, and living on the edge of the suburbs means no one’s up this late anyhow. Jeongguk hadn’t even let you find a seat, balancing through red lights on his feet just to fly out the door when you’d reached your stop. You’ve already done too much running today but Jeongguk still rushes you up to your floor, and before you can get the key to your door he has you pressed up on it instead.

“Want you,” he says. Hard against your throat like he means it.

“God—let me—open my door and you have me,” you say through your teeth, gritted because the hallways echo and now Jeongguk has his thigh pressed up against you. “Babe let go—”

He does, but only with a lingering kiss promised by your burning attraction. You don’t fumble with the lock but you do stumble in from how quick you open the door, slamming shut in your haste and you hear his duffel bag meet the ground and now your back meets the hard metal again. “You have to stop shoving me into this thing oh my god.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jeongguk whispers. He’s kissing you again. Lifts you up with no warning and you yelp into his curious mouth, dick grinding into the rough of your pants. “Fuck I—”

“Did—you want to—”

“No—wait yes, yes—I just—” He doesn’t let up. You can feel his cock straining against his sweats, flimsy layers you could just shove down but his hips are glued to your own. “I can’t—cum. Right now. Too much. Wind—wound up.”

Your tailbone is starting to dig into the door. “Then let me down and let’s just—sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. One last kiss, nose meeting yours. “Still on my hockey grind.”

“Ew,” you snort. “Also don’t wear your pants to bed.”

“Oh.” He shoves his shoes off when you do.

“I don’t like it when people wear their outside clothes on my sheets.”

“Oh.”

“But it’d be nice to wake up to your dick on my ass,” you add. Jeongguk makes a strangled noise, then carries you to bed.

“I’ll brush my teeth tomorrow,” is the last thing you remember him saying.

The morning rushes in too soon. Your curtains aren’t closed and Jeongguk hogs the blanket, sprawled on your side of the bed no less. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to spoon but at least his cock is warm with something just as soft as your ass.

You settle in the calm. Jeongguk isn’t one to snore but his soft breaths are just as jarring, disbelief apparent when you realize this is the first time he’s ever slept-over at your place. As convenient as it is to live somewhere that only needed one bus ride, you’re on campus all the time; making sense meant taking up space in his res instead. But now the lump he occupies in your bed is something you think you could get used to.

(Even if he hogs the blanket.)

You’re still in your clothes from last night, but at least you had the decency to shuck off your jeans. And you’d gotten up well past Jeongguk-sleeping-hours to take off your makeup because it took you forever to pry his ridiculously strong arm off around you. You get up with a kiss to his mane of bedhead and a silent reminder to grab an extra toothbrush.

The next plan to execute on your list after washing the tired off: breakfast. And you know you don’t have eggs but you open the fridge like you’ll see the carton sitting there anyway.

You’re standing, coming to a blank for what feels like forever. You think briefly about ordering in, then remember the guilt of just grabbing groceries instead. The internal battle is cut short when you hear the creak of your bed, a long groan. Then, footsteps.

“You look sad,” Jeongguk croaks two seconds later.

You frown for effect. “I want eggs. And why are you up.”

“Come here, egghead.” Jeongguk is groggy. The sexy kind too, because his voice is a tenor that scratches the needier part in you, the one telling you to bury your face in his chest and you do just that. “I felt you move. Sorry I couldn’t wake you up with my dick against your butt.”

“S’ok. And go shower because you’re stinky.”

He lets you go. “Good morning,” he says for the first time. A domesticity you feel lightheaded from. “You should shower with me.”

“Unless you’re scared of detachable shower heads I think you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be cocky,” he whines. “And you’re dirty too, you sweat a lot just like I do.”

That’s true. “But it’s not even a hair washing day.”

“Why are you resisting me, woman.” He brings two hands up, wiggling his fingers. “I’ll tickle you.”

“You will not—”

“I will tickle you and if you don’t shower with me I will cry.”

You huff. “Fine.” He leads you down the hall to the bathroom, satisfied in his quick win, back flexing when he takes his shirt off. “And I’m the cocky one.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says. You know he’s baiting but you don’t want to resist him anymore. “You need to turn the shower on because I don’t know how to.”

Getting naked is a different kind of intimate when you’re not in the bedroom. You know this because Jeongguk can’t even look your way when you’ve stripped, but you’re shivering like he’s staring. You step into the tub before he can back out. He doesn’t come in till the water’s running.

You like it hot. Jeongguk—not so much by the looks of his hesitation, so you compromise with a slight shift of the knob and a switch in place so he’s under the pelt of water. He’s all hard muscle under your hands. “Hope you like cherry blossom.”

He doesn’t say anything. Grabbing the loofah you spurt your pink soap, lathering it on his chest first. Jeongguk just stares. “I really missed you,” he says.

You nod. Nodding fast to keep yourself from thinking too hard because then you might start getting soft. “Me too,” you croak out. “Want me to wash your hair?”

Jeongguk just brushes his lips against yours in answer. You’ve just reached over his shoulders to get the back of his neck but he forces you back into the tiles, back inundated with cold hardness and there’s no room for complaint when your tits press against Jeongguk’s skin like this. He groans a desperate sound into your pliant mouth. “I—I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

You pause. “For what?”

“I don’t—know—I—just having you here again. Makes me want to do everything.”

You are enveloped in mist and so much longing. “Let me finish then we’ll—go back.” You don’t know if you want to focus southward because one look at his dick and you’ll fall to your knees. “Turn around.”

He does. The glass of the divider fogs up in your intimacy. You give a half-hearted scrub along his skin, focusing on the grime you can’t see. Can’t think.

“Okay you know—I think we’re good,” you say, voice tight.

“Come here.” Jeongguk spins to find you again, a hard kiss into you and you feel his dick press up against your stomach. “Towels.”

“Turn off the shower.” You push open the door, shaking legs dripping onto the floor as you scramble to wrap yourself in warmth other than Jeongguk. He grabs the other one, quick passes over his skin before he drops it to the floor and nearly bowls you over to get you out into the bed room.

It’s bright. Jeongguk reads your mind. “Can I—shut the blinds?”

“Please.”

He goes to twist the plastic while you dry off the last remnants of water clinging to your skin, and before you know it Jeongguk has you lain flat across the tangled blankets, legs dangling from the side of the bed. “God I tried really hard to have a normal morning with you but I—just can’t anymore.” He kneels over you. “Please tell me you feel the same.”

You could go on about how quick the one-eighty was. From your thoughts about breakfast to this absolutely insatiable need for your boyfriend to insert whatever valid body part he could use into your pussy. But you and Jeongguk are never conventional, and going too fast is an illusion now.

You have each other again, and no one’s counting the seconds anymore.

“Will you fuck me?” You ask.

“Yes,” he decides, and he unwraps the towel you’d clung onto before pressing downwards and caving into your lips. “I—have never wanted you so goddamn bad in my life, oh my god.”

“Good,” you choke on your breath because Jeongguk slips down your throat with his tongue and a pucker of his lips. “Ah—!”

A bloom of your slick runs through your cunt when he sucks hard on your skin, thumbs a shy presence on your breasts but they peak under the pressure. “You have the cutest tits,” he says.

“Shut up.” You flare with embarrassment. “You can—be more rough.”

Jeongguk twists your nipples and you pant. “Like that?”

“Suck on them too. Make it—hurt.” His eyes flutter, determined in your command. Mouth a hot suction, laving you with his spit. His teeth graze in a bite and you moan. “Fuck—yeah. That’s so good…”

He stays like this: feeding into your sounds with sloppy grips of his tongue, suckling till your tits pop out his mouth and your hands find the nape of his neck in desperation. “Ugh—please—”

Jeongguk slurps on a nipple. “Get up there.”

You scramble up the bed, comfortably nestled in the centre and Jeongguk’s fingers go to spread your pussy, cheeks heating in the sound of wet. He sighs.

“Do you want to cum now?”

You dip your head. “Please.”

He settles on his stomach, diving in to latch onto your clit, sucking that has your head thrown back further with every inch he covers with the jerk of his tongue. Honed in on the dangerous tip that could have you teetering over in a second and your hips pull back, but his hands take your bucking and locks you down to his attention. Too much so and now you wail. “Oh my g—od.”

Curses caught in the grit of your teeth because now he licks the stretch of your cunt like he’s thirsty. Jeongguk’s good at making you want more when you don’t know what means. “Gonna—use a finger.”

“Fuck, yeah. Yeah.” He curls in and up, a sweet crevice touched. Eyes rolling back as you puff. “Holy fu-uck yeah, finger it.”

“Wanna beg?” He suggests. Challenging.

“You’re asking me to?”

“I’m begging you to,” Jeongguk snickers.

“Then—” you settle up on your elbows, watching the minute thrusts into your cunt like a lazy cartoon— “please use another finger. And—make me cry this time.”

His eyes bulge in your confidence. Pulls out; now there’s two hard intrusions and it digs into a sweeter part inside, a touch that has you keening right into the pillow, drool smearing on the sheet. Clit sitting pretty on his wet tongue and you’d let him have it all day if he asked. Then Jeongguk thrusts in a drill so hard you vibrate. “O-O-Oh my fuuuuuuck—”

He curves into your loudness. “So fucking sexy,” he praises, rushing right through you and onto his fingers. “So wet—”

“Ugh—!” Your sobbing isn’t a tearful one but the scratch in your throat is smarting. Jeongguk swipes right over your nub. Leans up, fingers still a consistent presence and now his tongue is teasing yours, a muscle spasm more than anything and you can’t fucking breathe.

“Sit on my face,” he says.

“You—really?”

“I might cum.” Oh. He looks at you, eyes a wonder of pleasured agony. Probably because he’d been grinding into the sheets like last time but now you’re even more gone.

“Okay,” you gulp, and Jeongguk rolls over. Knees above his shoulders, using his elbows to slide along the mattress till you’re settled comfortably over his eager mouth. “You okay?”

“Fuck yeah.” He pulls on your thighs until his neck doesn’t strain up anymore, a stretch you can ignore if only to feel the traction of his rough love on your sensitivity. “This is—so hot.”

“Are you—pulling on pornographic roots right now?”

He hums into a suction. “Yeah.”

“What else have you thought about?” You can’t see his entire face from your view, but his forehead is scrunched. Thinking hard for you.

“Nothing—crazy,” he says. He kisses your leaking cunt. “Always wanna make you feel good. But it’d be hot if I choked you, yeah.”

“Oh—”

“Whatever you like,” Jeongguk decides. “I like whatever you like.”

“I would like it if you made me cry,” you contend.

He doesn’t say anything else. Jeongguk squeezes your ass, neck straining to get you dribbling on the tip of his tongue, pleasure pulled from the bottom of your stomach into moaning so loud you’re worried for the thinness of your walls. “Oh my god I’m close—don’t stop—”

Your pussy grinds right into it. His fingers are lax on your skin like he’s given up if it means you feed into your own demise. And you do: grating all your nerves from Jeongguk’s insistence into your sex and your hands tangle into his hair. “Oh fuck I’m—Jeongguk—!”

The feeling settles heavy in your pussy. Taken with a vehemence you’d praise forever and Jeongguk is nothing but passionate, a power translated through all his work and one he insists on when he paints your cunt like it’s his favourite thing to do. His hands tighten their grip on your ass, nearly falling over when his tongue slides like that—

“I’m cumming—oh my god I’m—fuck!”

Your eyes sting. It bursts—starting on Jeongguk’s tongue and spreading so fast you can’t tell up from down. Moans wrenched from your chest and you can’t catch your breath, even when you push yourself off from Jeongguk because you can’t stop riding into it. “Ah—oh fuck.” You’re sniffling.

“Babe wait did I actually make you cry?”

“Yes you idiot, come here.” And Jeongguk crawls over you, kiss-ready, lips wet on yours. “Do you—is it—are you okay? Do you wanna try now?”

“Sure,” he says. “I just—might not last too long.”

“We take it slow,” you say. He nods. “Got condoms?”

Jeongguk looks sheepish but he nods again. “Please don’t ask me why I have them on me.”

“I’m asking why you have them on you.”

He groans. “Let me just—get them from my bag.” And he runs, hard penis and all, outside to the bag he’d left outside in your haste to the bed. He’s not even gone for two seconds before he has the string of foil in his hand. “Remember there was a party last night? Taehyung gave them to me just in case—you know. Something happened.”

“Good friend. Do you—have lube too?”

Jeongguk pales. “No.”

“Come here,” you order instead, because you’re ridiculously wet anyhow. He gets closer, lying down when you push his chest down. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just wanna kiss you.”

He lets you. You stay in this moment, a precursor to a new era if you were being dramatic about it. But having him so soft and yielding under you like this makes you want to enjoy it, bit by bit. “I love you,” he says.

You mold into him. “I love you too.” Reaching over for one of the foils, you tear it as Jeongguk stares with a still chest. The condom rolls easily. “Okay?”

“Yep.”

Then you sit on top of him, your own breath caught in the butterflies jumbled in your stomach, a flit when his hands come to rest on your thighs. Nerves tangling with his and you feel the low tremors in his body. Your pussy glides along his dick lying pretty on his stomach. You tangle your hands with his. “Don’t be nervous,” you whisper.

Jeongguk gulps. “Just—kiss me again.”

You lean back down, his hands tightening yours when you meet him again. “Are you okay?”

His eyes are closed. “Yes—yes. You can put it in. Please.”

“Just—say the word and I’ll stop.”

He nods.

There’s a lump in your throat. You want it to be good for him. The griping all his friends did had done a great deal for your sex life, yeah. But the point of his comfort was crossed so many times you feared he’d back out by this time. And now he waits: waits for your go, on your own time, because the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you too. You know it in his attention, his quiet insistence on making you cum first. His patience for you to come back to him. Waiting so that you could get comfortable before he did, because he’s only ever comfortable when you are.

You hold the base of his dick, tip straight below your core, positioned at the height of both your breaths.

You sink down.

It’s a scarcity, to feel this good from the get-go. A prodding that pinches a little stretches you right, Jeongguk’s length gloved in your heat, so much heat because he groans. “Oh my god.”

“Is that—okay?”

“Yes—”

His hands find your hips when your knees drop down even further. Slow, slow, slow; so wet because he makes you feel it—until you bottom out. Jeongguk shivers. “Tell me—when I can move.”

You watch his eyebrows scrunch up, teeth gritting when you shift to ease the weight on your legs. “I’m good. I’m good, please move, fuck.”

You do. You pick up to an easy pace, not straining yourself but enough for the tip of his dick to hit a spot in your gut that has you cooing. Your hands find his chest. “Ooh—fuck yeah.”

“Is it good—for you?” Jeongguk pants, bucking his hips when he watches your tits bounce.

“Yeah. Feels so good…” You trail off, getting used to the feel of something so much thicker than his fingers. A burn you can’t say you haven’t missed, teasing your insides and you squeeze.

“Baby—that—fuck—” He’s sweating. His forehead shines, hair caught on his skin. His chest is a flushed, wet where your palms meet him because you’re getting a little winded now. But the little grunts he lets out every time you bounce is enough to keep you going.

“Do you think—you can cum like this?”

His grin is sheepish. “N-No.”

You opt for a closer grind then. “How do you want me?”

“Your back,” he says, hesitant. “Let me—fuck you from the edge of the bed.”

You can do that. You lift up till his dick lies wet on his belly, sheets a mess under your bum when you let Jeongguk get up to move you the way he wants. He stands, one knee on the mattress as he spreads your legs, pussy served like it’s his to take. Makes a grab for his dick; jostles around a bit on your clit to see your hole tighten, stomach clenched.

He presses in slow just to see you shiver. In control of your pleasure again, and you sigh into the sheets.

“Oh my god.” You grasp the blankets, elbows strong to watch what you now know is the visual of Jeongguk fucking you. A little stilted in his rhythm, but only because he’s getting used to the feel of your pussy like this.

You don’t care for the semantics of proper fucking. As long as his hips meet your ass in the beat you can only call nasty. The squelch of your arousal is loud. “Fuck—baby…”

“Yeah—feels so good.” Buried deep in your walls and maybe you could learn the ridges of his dick like this: lain here for him to use, cunt fit only for his pleasure. A position you’d gladly take everyday from now on because fuck if this isn’t heavenly.

You know he feels it too when his chest picks up in his panting, dick a piston now and you mewl.

“Yeah—faster, baby—like that—!”

“Shit—” Smearing your walls with your own slick, made for him to dirty. A push so vigorous you would be sliding if it weren’t for Jeongguk’s tight hands on you, and all you can do is take it. “Babe I’m close—”

And he bends down, kissing you with a pant into your mouth because he’s getting spent, efforts all going into your pleasure. He still thrusts. “Cum. Cum when you can, fuck.”

“What about—”

You shut him up with another press of your lips. “I’m fine.”

He leaves it at that. Jeongguk leans up again, adjusting one more time till he’s got both knees on the bed, cock a heady presence inside your sex and he gives it hard now. You’re trying not to squeeze so hard around him but it’s getting difficult; seeing him so focused, his eyes wild, sweat dripping on his shoulders. Sweltering in your heat and love and novelties—defiling him but in the best way possible. “I love you,” he chokes. “Oh my god I might—”

“Give it to me,” you whisper.

He does. Your pussy is still in Jeongguk’s indulgence, his whines escalating until he groans out: “I’m cumming—”

Jeongguk slams into you, a final push for your core and he croons into your neck. Streams of his pleasure in the form of a long sigh, his pulses inside. And maybe you’re dumb but you’re laughing and crying again, arms wrapping around his neck, swaying him back and forth as he calms down.

“How was that?” You ask.

He’s crying, too. You wipe his under-eye when he takes one more kiss. “Best ever,” he says. “I’ll make you cum.”

“You don’t need to—” But his thumb is already on your clit, still wet from his doing and you force your hips to stillness— “Jeongguk no—”

“I wanna feel you cum around my dick,” he says, and the plea is enough for you to tighten and cry even more. It hurts, a nudge of pain but it’s already beginning to spread into pleasure—

“Jeongguk—”

You cum into his kiss, walls clenching into an orgasm so sweet your toes tingle. A ripple of pleasure running through all of you and he moans like he feels it too.

Out of breath. It’s hot under his skin.

“So. Who do we tell first?”

Jeongguk laughs. “Maybe we can decide over breakfast.”

And you feel something, better than orgasmic bliss, the pleasure of a tryst: the simplicity of being in love. Jeongguk makes you feel like you can do anything.

“Eggs?” You ask.

His tongue is sweet. “Eggs.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts #jungkook #f: one time in your room #ubemango fic

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toothpastecanyon · 3 years

Text

Noie's Friends, Chapter 3

A collection of oneshots about Noie's years at college.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

_____________________________________________________________

“Hmm… what should I have today? What, should, I, have?”

Tapping on the counter. Noie stretched her shoulders a bit, and tapped the register to stop it going to sleep.

“Huh. You know, I just don’t know any of these teas.” The man scratched his stubble. “You guys sell an awful lot of them, don’t you?”

“Yes. We’re a tea shop, sir.”

“Oooh, sir. I don’t get sir’ed very often…” he peered at her name tag. “Naomi. Oh, that’s a pretty name. Where’s it from?”

She shrugged.

“You don’t know? Oh, I know where my name comes from, John’s a good English name, you know? There was a King John once. In fact, how’s about I write it down on this napkin…”

Noie found herself glancing over his shoulder. If only she could tell him there was a line.

“You can call me up anytime, little lady.” He passed it to her with a wink. “Anyway, where was I… Oh, do you guys have Dr Salt? I think I’ll take that over your weird teas.”

“Okay, we’ve got them in the back.” Noie stepped away. “They’re kind of expensive here, though.”

“Aw, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Hey, don’t forget my napkin!”

Noie headed to the back, which was a small tiled room with an asphyxiatingly-strong stench of various spices. Even after a week she still hadn’t gotten used to it; her eyes watered a tiny bit as she headed to the tiny soda fridge in the corner of the room.

“Somebody wants another soda?” A voice - Sara stepped out from behind a column of spices. “They know there’s a restaurant right next to us, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s here for a drink.” She tossed the napkin at her. “Check out what he passed me.”

Noie opened the fridge and picked a soda out. She heard a sniggering from behind her.

“Why did he…” Sara snorted. “Why did he write ‘King John winky face’ on it?”

“Oh my god, did he? I didn’t even look at it.”

“Yeah, look at it there. He sounds like a real catch.” She shook her head. “You want me to go out there? I can always chase off a creepy guy.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Thanks, though.” Noie heard the front door jingle. “Oh, sweet, new people!”

“Now you can tell him there’s a line.”

“Hah! Did you read my mind?” She winked at Sara as she opened the door. “Seeya.”

“Silver!”

Noie recognised the group strolling into the shop - and especially the woman in pyjamas making hre way to the counter. “Bea! Isn’t it Magic 101 for Gus and Mina right now? I thought you guys were coming after that.”

“Hey,” The man glanced between them. “About my order-”

“What, you dreading us?” Bea winked at her. “Nah, there was - heh - a little accident in the labs.”

“Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She stabbed a thumb back at Gus, who seemed to be missing his eyebrows. “You should get the story from ol’ fire fingers over there. I hear primary sources make the most engaging narratives.”

The man cleared his throat. “Excuse me-”

“Oh, I’ll ring your soda up for you, it’s five dollars.” Noie grinned at Bea. “Did he blow himself-”

“Five dollars?!”

“-up?”

“I’m not saying nothing! You’ll have to-”

“Excuse me kid, I’m still ordering!” The man shoved Bea a little back. “Hey, what’s the big idea? I could go down to the gas station and get this for a fifth of what I’m paying here! What kind of stupid fucking-”

Bea tapped his shoulder, and he stopped midsentence with a choking gasp. He grabbed his throat gasping for air, eyes bugging out, and started coughing up leaves and loose soil. She pushed him aside, and leaned an elbow on the counter.

“Okay, so what’ll we have today?” Bea slid the soda away. “Obviously not that - jeez, five dollars? Does anyone actually buy those?” A pause. “What?”

Noie was leaning over the counter with wide eyes. The man was on his hands and knees, making shallow gagging sounds. “Uh, Bea? Is he gonna be alright?!”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry about the mess. Shouldn’t have done that spell indoors.” She snapped her fingers, and everything dissolved into air. The man gave a gasp of relief, and curled up into a shuddering foetal position. “Now I’m the bad customer, right? There you go.”

“But is he gonna be okay?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s an old elven children’s prank. I don’t know why he’s being such a baby about it.” She nudged his leg. “Come on, man. I’ve seen elflings half your age take this better than you. Stop crying.”

As Noie watched, Sara came out of the back. She saw her peeking around the corner- as soon as she caught sight of Bea and the others, she came wandering out.

“Oh, hey guys! Hi Bea!”

“How’s it hanging.”

“You’re here early, right? Why do I feel like- oh my stars, Gus, your eyebrows! Your hair!”

Laughter erupted across the table, and Gus went red. Bea chuckled.

“Yeah, tell her the whole thing, dude!” Bea turned back to Noie. “Eh, I think we’ll all just have our usual. You know what that is, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Noie turned towards the brewing machines. “Alright, gimme a second…”

She got out a pot, and from behind her she heard the ongoing conversation.

“So what happened, dude? Did you blow yourself up?”

“I didn’t blow myself up-“

“Yeah, cause it was a candle spell.” There was a chuckle from Bea. “First time I’ve ever heard of a human hurting themselves on one of those.”

“No, no, okay, so I had my hands like this, okay! I was rubbing my forehead from all the Latin, and then suddenly my head feels really warm and Mina starts screaming that my hair’s on fire.”

“Your hair was on fire, dude. It looked like a campfire up there for a second.”

“Yeah, and then Mr Jasko grabbed me and basically threw me into the lab shower. How often does that water get cleaned, do you think? It smelled really bad.”

Noie poured the tea, and turned around as it brewed. She saw Gus rubbing at his eyebrows; Jess was patting his shoulder.

“Ughhhh… I look like a damn thumb.”

“No you don’t, dude. You still have… some of your hair.”

“Oh yeah, that’s great, that’s great. Some of my hair.” He ran a hand through it. “Shit, and I have a date this Friday! Do you think it’ll grow back by then?”

“I can grow things.” Bea gave a smile. “Hair is kinda like moss, right?”

“Oh no, you are not touching my hair, Bea. I know you too well.”

“Yeah, you do. But really, that sucks, man. I’m sorry for you.”

“Maybe I’ll just wear a hat,” Noie heard as she placed all the mugs onto a tray. “Hats are cool right? He’ll think it’s cool, right?”

Noie walked over. “I’m sure it’ll go fine, dude.” She carefully placed the tea right next to Gus’ book. “At least you gotta get a good grade on the fire spell thing, right?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly light a candle, did I.” He flipped his textbook to a certain page, and picked up his tea. “The lab’s probably gonna be redone anyway. I gotta study up for it.”

“Heh, don’t go saying it out loud again-”

“No. No, I won’t, Mina.”

Noie started going around the table, but Sara suddenly noticed her and jumped up. “Oh my gosh! Noie, I should’ve been helping! Let me do that!”

“Oh, it’s fine-”

She took the tray. “No, no, you made it, I’ll do the rest. Bea, were you paying?”

“Yeah, it’s my turn.” Bea turned around, digging in her pockets. There seemed to be a lull in conversation as everyone set up their books and magi-orbs; Noie found herself standing awkwardly behind Gus, looking down at his textbook.

Huh. She’d never actually looked inside a magic textbook before; it looked a lot like any other, with dense pages of information cut up by a few diagrams and headings - here, the headings seemed to be the spell incantations themselves, judging by the fact that they were in latin. There was one incantation next to a drawing of someone lighting a candle with their finger; that was probably the one Gus messed up on.

She frowned. How do you even pronounce Latin? She tried sounding it out in her head, flam-mul-a ex stud-

There was a shout. The next thing Noie knew she was on the floor, her hands twisted behind her back. She opened her mouth, but-

“D’arvit!” Bea’s voice was right next to her ear, louder and sterner than she’d ever heard. “The hell are you playing at, Naomi!”

“Wh-what-”

“Don’t let me ever see you trying that shit again! You know better!”

Noie blinked; she could hardly form words. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! What did I do?”

“You don’t know?!” A pause. “You don’t know?”

“No!” Noie tried to move her arm, but it wouldn’t budge. “Agh, ugh, I think you’re twisting my wrist!”

There was a moment of silence, and then Bea let go of her completely. She pulled Noie up, and there was something strange in her eyes as she patted her down. She felt along Noie’s wrist, and Noie couldn’t help but notice the whole table had turned around to stare at them.

Noie shivered at that… shivered. She felt strangely cold, strangely drained. She opened her mouth, but nothing really came out.

Mina was the first one to speak. “Uh, Bea,” she started. “What was that about? What happened?”

Bea’s eyes flitted up to her, and then traced across the whole group. She let go of Noie’s arm, and after a moment, Noie could see her stretch a big smile across her face.

“What was that?” Bea asked, and then gave Noie a light shove. “Pranked! It was a prank! You should’ve seen your face, Silver!”

She gave a great laugh, but Noie could still see that glint in her eyes. She didn’t laugh back; no one did.

“Eh? Prank? Nobody up for some good ol’ horsing around?”

“Seriously? That, uh, wasn’t very funny, Bea.” Sara walked over to Noie. “I think you really freaked her out. You freaked me out.”

“Yeah, me too.” Gus frowned at her. “You really shouldn’t tackle someone like that. That hurts.”

“I see your point, I see your point.” Bea raised her hands. “Guess I don’t know my own strength. I won’t do it again… unless, like, hypothetically, you were standing next to some kind of bomb and I had to tackle you to save your life-”

“Dude. Just apologise.”

“Alright, I was getting to it!” She looked at Noie, and held out her hand. “Hey. I’m sorry I freaked you out.”

Noie glanced down at her hand. She gingerly took it. “Uh, no problem, Bea-”

We need to talk.

She froze at a clear voice in her head - Bea’s voice. Still smiling, the elf nodded once, and let go.

“Alright, glad we reached an understanding.” She dusted her hands off. “Now, what was I doing? Oh right, paying for junk! Sara, get over here!”

Sara put a hand on Noie’s shoulder - it was strangely warm, or maybe Noie was strangely cold. “Are you gonna be okay?” She asked. “You’re shivering.”

“Me? Um,” Noie gulped. “Y-yeah, I’ll be, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“You should go stand out in the sun for a bit. I’ll cover for you.”

“Yeah, that… that sounds good. Thanks.”

Sara gave her a quick smile, a squeeze, and then headed off. Noie watched her go, then looked towards the front doors. She stumbled as she made her way over, and struggled a little to open them.

She stepped out into the sun, into the harsh rays beating down on her face, her shirt, her soul…

And still she shivered a little.

She needed… she needed to sit down. Wow.

_____________________________________________________________

The little study session ended much sooner than usual - only a little after the end of Noie’s shift. It was a bit awkward the whole time, with Gus touching his hair and Sara shooting daggers into the back of Bea’s head. For Noie it still felt like an eternity; she’d managed to warm up, but there was still a strange weakness in her knees, a sluggishness in her mind that was hard to shake.

It was strange. The looks Bea kept shooting her didn’t help either. What was going on?

“I think I’ll be heading out,” Gus said, closing his textbook. “Gonna go hat shopping.”

“Oh, if you’re heading out, I might too.”

“Yeah, it’s getting late.”

As everyone started packing up, Noie felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” Sara spoke quietly. “You, uh, want a ride home?”

Noie glanced over at Bea, who was ostensibly cleaning her magi-orb; somehow Noie still felt watched.

“Uh,” she started. “That’s okay, thank you. I think I’m gonna walk home - uh, with Bea.”

Sara frowned. “You sure?”

“Don’t worry,” Bea spoke without looking up. “I won’t tackle her again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Noie gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s fine, Sara. Thanks.”

Sara didn’t look entirely convinced, but she hugged her goodbye and left the shop. The rest of the group filtered out shortly after, leaving only the two of them, sitting across from each other.

Bea didn’t immediately talk. Noie tapped her fingers a little on the desk; she made a face, and then opened her mouth.

“Bea-“

Bea stood up. “Walk with me, will you?”

“What?”

“Just follow me.” She reached out an arm. “Take my hand.”

“Why?”

“I wanna show you something.” She flashed a smile. “You’ll like it, I promise. Trust me on this, Silver.”

Noie hesitated… but after a moment, she did take her hand. Bea gently pulled her upright, and led her out the door. Immediately they turned into a back alley, and Noie frowned.

“Uh, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“Why are you being so weird about this?” She stumbled as they made their way down the edge of a parking lot. “What happened back there? And, uh, not to be rude, but did you do something to me? I feel kinda weird after you tackled me back there.”

“Hmm?” Bea suddenly turned and lead them through a dead bush. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. It’ll go back to normal in the next few days.”

A twig slapped her in the face. “What? What’ll go back to normal?”

“Your, uh, magic.”

“Magic? What?” Noie could hardly see her through the greenery now. “Okay, where are we going, seriously? There’s got to be an easier way to-“

She stumbled out of the bushes, and blinked hard. Her eyes went wide.

“To…”

They were inside the biggest forest Noie had ever seen in her life. Old growth trees with trunks wider than a car towered way overhead, up into a canopy of leaves that caught all but little flickers of sunlight. Beneath her feet was suddenly ferns and mulch, and all around her were animal sounds - caws, chirps, cheeps, foliage cracking, woodpeckers hammering. This was… Noie looked to Bea, and found her grinning back.

“This…” she managed. “This isn’t Arizona.”

“Sure it is! Also it isn’t. Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you teleport us?”

“No, no.” Bea let go of her hand. “This is, uh… well, there isn’t really an English word for it - let’s call it the Elfscape!” She snorted. “Stars, the Elders can never catch me calling it that.”

“Elfscape? Like the Mindscape-”

“It’s complicated, it’s, uh… well, kinda, but it’s more physical than the Mindscape. Or maybe it’s the Earth’s Mindscape?” She shrugged. “Look, it’s complicated even for elves, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Oh, okay?”

“Also, uh, if you see anything between the trees, try not to stare at them.”

“What?” Noie followed her gaze, and saw a shadowy figure far in the distance. There was something eerily… angry, there - she could feel it like a pit in her stomach. She looked back at Bea. “Uh, what’s that?”

“Another elf. They’re probably fine - they just get a bit touchy about outsiders coming here.” Bea gave a laugh. “I’m gonna get an earful about it when I next visit for sure.”

Noie frowned. “Then, uh, why’d you bring me here?”

“Because you are gonna test something for me real quick.”

“Test something?”

“Yeah!” Bea touched her hand, and gently lifted it up. “Alright, that goes - yeah, there. And point for me; any finger’s fine. Yeah, that looks good!”

Noie found herself pointing straight forwards. She raised an eyebrow at Bea. “Uh, okay?”

“Now, I want you to say flammula ex studio.” A small flame appeared on Bea’s thumb; she winked when Noie’s eyes went wide. “Can you do that?”

“Are you trying to get me to do magic? I don’t think I can do that kinda stuff; don’t you have to really practice for it? And-“

“Just! Just indulge me for a second, Silver.” Bea stepped back. “Try it. Please?”

Noie made a face at her, then turned to look forwards again. She felt a little ridiculous standing here like this, but Bea shot her another smile and she sighed.

“Okay… fine. Fine. What do I have to say again?”

“Flammula ex studio. Whenever you’re ready.”

Noie grimaced. “Okay, here goes nothing. Flammula ex studio.”

She’d hardly finished the incantation when she felt a rush of heat. One moment she was standing there, the next all she could see was a great ball of fire coming out of her fingertip.

“Wha- oh, shit!” Noie jumped back and instinctively tried to shake it off. “Bea! Bea! Help, I’m on fire! I’m on-”

With a chuckle, Bea walked over and put a hand over the flames. They seemed to extinguish it, and Noie was left standing there, eyes wide, heart thudding in her chest. Distantly she could hear Bea laughing.

“Now that is what you call no flow control!” Bea patted her shoulder. “You really haven’t done magic before, huh? Wow!”

Noie gulped, and tried to steady her breathing. She forced herself to meet Bea’s eyes, and opened her mouth. “W-w-what was that? Why did th-that happen?”

“Why’d you think? Magic!”

“Magic?”

“You better believe it! Seems like you’ve got a bit more juice in your tank than the average human! A lot more juice, but of course,” Bea winked at her. “I already knew that.”

Noie blinked. “You did?”

“Course I did! Magic’s not subtle, Silver. It’s written all over you!” She patted her shoulder. “Honestly, the only thing I’m surprised by is that you didn’t know. Don’t human schools have those little magic exams in elementary school these days?”

“Magic exams?” Noie frowned. “I don’t remember those… but I was exempt from magic stuff as a kid. Dipper has magic sensitivity, so he-” She glanced at Bea. “Oh. That was, uh, his cover when we were growing up.”

“Huh, not a bad cover.” She rubbed her chin. “Well, that definitely clears it up, but that’s still nuts to me that you didn’t know. I guess that’s just me talking, though; I dunno what I’d do without magic.”

Noie laughed a bit at that, but the sound faded away quickly. She found herself looking down at her hands, rubbing her fingers. They still felt warm, and she frowned.

“Bea?”

“Yeah?”

“You said…” Noie clasped her hands against her chest. “You said I had more magic than most humans.”

“I did.” She chuckled. “Gus’d have a way worse day if he could do what you can.”

“But - how? Is it just… random chance? Do you know?”

“Do you know?”

Bea had that strange shine in her eyes again. Noie hesitated as she stepped a little closer.

“I’m asking you seriously.” Bea was studying her face; after a moment, she looked away. “You know, it’s a common joke that humans suck at magic, but you know why they do?”

“Why?”

“Cause of the Transcendence. Or at least, all that time leading up to the Transcendence, living in a world without magic. Y’know, elves were in their forests, mermaids were in the seas, all your city preters kept themselves under wraps.” Bea touched a budding leaf, and watched it open. “Magic follows magic, and for thousands of years, you guys just weren’t having much sent your way. Now you’re playing catch up.”

She looked at Noie with a knowing smile.

“So that leaves us two possibilities,” she said, and pushed off the tree. “Either you’re just a real lucky human - and that happens! - oooor, someone in your family was a little more in touch with their magic, if you know what I mean.”

“More in touch-” Noie started, and then she stopped dead. Oh.

Oh, she knew exactly where she got this from.

“Anyway, you don’t have to say anything. Just telling you what might be going on” She passed by Noie. “You wanna head home? I’m thinking I should probably take you back to your brother before he thinks I trapped you in an alternate dimension or something.”

“But- what do I do?”

Bea raised her eyebrows. “Do about what?”

“I-I nearly burned everyone back at the tea shop without even realising!” Noie stammered over her words. “What if that happens again? I was lucky you were there - I don’t know how to control that on my own!”

“Hey, don’t panic. Panic makes magic explode, I’ve heard.”

“Wh- that’s not funny, Bea!”

“I know, I know.” She chuckled to herself. “Couldn’t help myself, but, uh, if you’re asking for serious advice, I guess you could just make sure you never read anything that sounds like a spell again. Oh, also, since you don’t have to speak it out loud, try not to think too hard about that spell I taught you, flammula ex studio.” She gave a sly grin. “Yeah, don’t even think about flammula ex studio, don’t even think the words flammula ex studio, don’t-”

“Please stop.”

“Okay, or what you could do - and I think this is better - you could maybe learn some basic flow control so you stop going full blast on every random spell you see. It’s not hard to learn, I bet I could give you a handle on it in a couple hours.”

Noie just stared at her. Stared, as she reached out a hand.

“C’mon, Silver. Let’s get you home.”

After a moment, Noie took a deep breath, in, and out. She swallowed, and then she took Bea’s hand. Bea smiled, and then took them through a bush; they made their way through the greenery, through cool leaves brushing past her face, and then came out in the garden bordering Noie’s dorm. She looked behind her, and saw not a forest but a shrub and the corner of a building. There was a chuckle from Bea.

“Yeah, don’t tell the others about that little trick. They’ll be asking me for shortcuts until the end of time.”

“Hah, yeah-”

“Wait.” Bea held up a hand. “Do you hear that?”

“You!”

A shout. Someone was stomping over to them - someone with a suit, glowing eyes, and a shadow that sported wings. Noie blinked.

“Dipper?”

“You’re okay!” Dipper hugged her tight, then turned to Bea. “Okay, where’d you take her?”

“Back to her dorm, of course.”

“Don’t play games with me, mortal.” He stabbed a finger at her. “I just spent the past hour tearing through pocket dimensions to see where the hell my sister went. Where’d you take her?”

Noie patted his shoulder. “Dipper…”

“Nah, it’s okay, it’s a fair question.” Bea brushed his finger away. “It’s just a little hangout place for elves, it was totally fine.” She chuckled. “I’m glad that’s the part you noticed - you know, not the part where I totally broke her arm a tiny bit. I thought I was a dead girl walking there.”

“You did what?!”

“You broke my arm?”

“See? She didn’t even notice before I healed it, it was fine.”

Noie watched Dipper make several attempts to speak. He clenched his clawed fists - and then, with some effort, unclenched them, and pinched his forehead.

“You… make it very hard for me to like you, you know?”

“Aww, I try.” Bea winked at Noie. “Anyway, I oughtta be heating out.” She took a step away, and then clicked her fingers. “Oh, you know who else could totally help you with magic? Demon boy over here’s pretty good at it, I’ve heard.”

“Magic?” Dipper looked over at her. “You want to learn that? I could definitely help.”

Noie stared back.

“What?”

“You knew I could do magic too?”

“Yeah?” Dipper frowned at her. “I could always tell, why?”

There came a chuckle from Bea as she walked away. “Yeah, you two have fun now! Bye!”

_____________________________________________________________

“So, you had a bit of a day.”

“Tell me about it.” Noie unlocked her dorm’s door and collapsed into bed. “I can’t believe you knew this whole time. You didn’t think to mention it?”

“I mean, no!” Dipper closed the door; immediately he shed his human form, and floated close to her. “I’m sorry, I just - I didn’t think you were that into magic!”

“Yeah, and why wasn’t I into magic when I was a kid again?” She huffed as his face dropped. “No, that’s not a- you don’t have to feel bad about it, but that’s just the truth. I didn’t know about this because of your magic sensitivity.”

“Yeah…” Dipper looked down. “No, you’re right, you’re right.”

Silence hung there for a second. Noie rolled her eyes, and pulled him into bed.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself.” She hugged him close. “Stop looking so sad; seriously, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m not really ‘into’ magic anyway; I was only annoyed because I’m not ‘into’ accidentally blowing myself up if I read some Latin.”

Dipper snorted at that, and she smiled. Stared up at the ceiling.

“Yeah…” she said. “It’s not important to me, you know? It’s not something I grew up with, or even knew that much about. Even if I had found out earlier… how much would it really matter, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Noie looked at him. “I know where it came from, you know?”

“From where?”

“You don’t know?”

Dipper stared blankly.

“From Pinni, of course.” Noie made a face. “From… my mother.”

“Your mother?” He sat up. “Oh, right, I remember now! She was a selkie, right?”

“Apparently.”

“Yeah, yeah, I see that now. I totally forgot you’re a half-selkie-”

“I’m not a half-selkie, you can’t be half selkie.” Noie cut in, and then stopped herself. “Sorry, it’s just- it's a hereditary enchantment, not a separate species. And I'm long past the age when they were supposed to do the skin thing and everything, so I'm not a selkie, I'm fully human."

Dipper was looking at her askance; suddenly Noie heard how that came off. Her cheeks flushed.

"Not that it'd be bad if I was! I'm not, like, ashamed of it or anything, but it doesn't affect me all that much!” She gave a shrug. “Seriously, I live in a desert. I've never been to the ocean in my life - heck, I don't even know how to swim. Why would I go around telling people 'ooh, did you know I'm half selkie?' That'd be so obnoxious."

Dipper didn’t say anything to that. She rose to her feet.

“It’s just - what do I know about any of this, right? What do I know about magic, about selkies - fuck, what do I even know about my own mom?” She gestured at him. “At least Leon left videos, right! At least you and David met him, right! But who the fuck is Pinni? All I ever got was, I dunno, she’s nice? She’s shy?” An angry shrug. “Apparently she came from the ocean, whatever the fuck that means, so it sounds like I’d have a hell of a time tracking down any family on that side!”

“Noie?”

“It’s just - I’m fine that I never met these people, okay? They’re literally strangers to me, I don’t know why people expect me to feel devastated about them or something.” She stared at her hands. “I guess I just… that everything could’ve been so different, you know?”

A pause. Dipper said nothing, and she sighed.

“I could’ve known about magic. I could’ve actually met my parents. I could’ve been a fucking selkie - how weird is that?”

She chuckled, but then she looked back at Dipper. He had tears in his eyes, and she watched him hang his head.

“You could’ve,” he said, softly. “I’m sorry, Noie. If it weren’t for me, you could’ve had so, so much better-”

“No!”

Dipper glanced up sharply. She ran back to his side.

“Dipper, that’s - that’s not what I mean!” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You know, I think about how stuff could’ve been, a-and it scares me! I don’t want that!”

“What do you mean? You deserved so much better, you deserved to know your parents-”

“And if I had them, I would never have had you!” Noie snapped. She put her arms around him. “I don’t care if it would’ve been better. I don’t want to imagine myself in a timeline where you aren’t my brother, okay?”

Dipper hugged her back - lightly for a moment, but then he squeezed.

“And there’s… it feels like if just one thing had changed, I would never have known you at all, and I hate that… you know?”

There was a thick chuckle. “Oh, you might have known me. You’re still a Mizar, after all.”

“But you wouldn’t have been my brother.” Noie hugged him tighter. “And I’m so glad you are. I’m so glad. I love you, Dipper.”

She heard him say something like “I love you too”, but it was too shakey to make out, and when he buried his face in her shoulder, she felt wet tears on her shirt. She smiled at that, at his wings enveloping her, and just held him for a long, long time.

It was a warm kind of quiet. Neither of them quite let go, but eventually Noie shifted her leg, and Dipper pulled back a little to wipe his eyes. They looked at each other, and laughed a little.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” She said, and Dipper gave a chuckle.

“We are, we are…” He cleared his throat. “So, uh, I take it you aren’t up for magic lessons?”

“Huh? Oh, no…. Bea was right, I probably should learn the basics.” She brushed some hair out of her eyes. “You know, just so I don’t go blowing myself up accidentally.”

“Yeah.”

“After that… I dunno, maybe it’ll be fun? We’ll see how it goes.”

“I liked learning magic.” Dipper said. “Of course, my magic’s kind of… different from yours, but I think you’ll like it.”

“What, I won’t be making demon deals? Darn.”

“Oh, very funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Noie said, and lay back down in her bed. Looked out her window, at the setting sun. After a moment, Dipper laid down next to her, and that warm silence descended on both of them again.

Words were needed no more. They held each other like that as Noie’s eyes drooped, as she drifted peacefully to sleep in her brother’s arms.

#transcendence au #naomi argenta #toothwrites #Noie's Brother #magic #worldbuilding

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

Text

dirtbags // 1: Charlotte

Summary: Motley Crue High School AU with The Pack (Lola, Charlotte, Peach, & Eileen); Winter, 1984. Charlotte’s halfway through her Junior year of High School when Lola arrives in town, and becomes a part of Charlotte’s life almost by accident.

Tommy seems to fall for any girl he hasn’t grown up with, Nikki and Charlotte are in agreement that their friendship becoming public knowledge would be social suicide for them both, Vince is a tool, and Eileen is still mad at him for what happened over Summer.

A/N: 8829 words. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @misscharlottelee this has literally been in the works for what’s felt like a year, but i decided that i can’t keep putting it off forever, so here. part 1. i think im going to try and put these out weekly?? maybe sooner?? but i adore you and i of course absolutely adore @josaphinebaker so i’m glad to finally let you all enjoy the long-awaited, multi-part HS AU (me, not posting writing for months: AND WHAT’S THIS? THE HS AU WITH A STEEL CHAIR --) ft. a softer world quotes

who said life can’t be an adventure? because whoever said that is probably the villain.

There’s a place for everything, and everything has it’s place. That’s they way the world works, at least, that’s the motto the rest of the cheerleading team seems to adhere to almost religiously. Charlotte, who’s been on the team for almost a full year and a half, since the start of her Sophmore year, can’t see the world so black and white. It’s not that she signed up to be a Cheerleader to fulfil some bitchy, blonde stereotype, it’s more that she had free time to fill and thought it would be fun. It took her a few months to find her footing once she’d been offered a place on the team, and was quickly thrust into her school’s the social spotlight, but she managed in the end, and had been managing ever since, mostly.

“Charlie, you’re so lucky,” Tommy, her cousin, lamented to her, driving her home after cheer practice, and marching band, had finished for the day. He was still in his uniform, as was Charlotte, and she gave him a sidelong glance, picking at the nail polish on her thumb. She doesn’t even give him an answer; ever since she’d joined the team, he had felt the need to wax poetic about the other cheerleaders and their uniforms. It’s so familiar that she doesn’t even need to prompt him into mooning over seeing Pamela in the cafeteria that day.

“She’s never going to date you if you don’t talk to her,” Charlotte’s smile is sly as her gaze slides back to the road, and the sun drifting towards the horizon.

“If Pam ever found out I’d looked at her, she’d probably just spit on me, call me pathetic or some shit,” Tommy’s eyeroll is implied by the flatness of his tone, but Charlotte can’t help but laugh.

“Oh Tommy, everyone looks at Pam,” she reminds him, and Tommy lets out an annoyed whine.

“I know,” he groans, clearly not cheered by that fact, feeling ever the more hopeless, and they fall into silence. Charlotte reaches down beside her seat and lifts a lever, pushing the seat back so she could comfortably rest her feet on his dashboard.

“Did you hear someone finally bought the MacCready burger joint? Dad was talking about it yesterday,” Tommy says mildly, making a left-hand turn onto their street. Charlotte raises her eyebrows, intrigued, but doesn’t speak. Tommy knows her well enough to take her silence as an invitation to go on, “Mrs Mac is going into hospice care and apparently some guy bought it and moved into town.”

“Oh shit, poor Mrs Mac,” Charlotte muses, and crosses her ankles on the dash, “hopefully their food is edible now.”

“Their burgers were great!” Tommy protested loudly.

“Their burgers were trash, Tommy! You’re just a rat -!”

“I’m not a rat!” He argues back, pulling into the gas station around the corner from their house. Tommy pulls up beside one of the pumps, and Charlotte gets out to browse the various snacks on offer inside the service station.

“Afternoon, Mick,” Charlotte calls out to the gas station attendant, the guy who’s been working here since he was fourteen, who’s currently got an electrical apprenticeship every other day. Charlotte realizes she might know too much about him considering he barely communicates in grunts most of the time. It’s not that he can’t speak, it’s just that he has a well documented dislike of her over exuberant cousin.

As expected, Mick doesn’t look up from his copy of Rolling Stone behind the counter, but makes a noise of acknowledgement.

Before Tommy has finished filling the tank, an unfamiliar figure enters the gas station, breezing past Charlotte and snatching up a packet of pork rinds, moving to the drinks fridge and taking a can of lemonade. The person is a young woman, though Charlotte doesn’t get a good look at her face; she’s got silky, black hair down to the small of her back, beneath a backwards baseball cap, and she’s the most notable of her clothes are her scuffed, black boots, and her oversized, black denim jacket littered with patches and pins.

When she puts her items on the counter in front of Mick, she pauses, frowning at the display, and Tommy enters the shop with an oblivious smile, asking if Charlotte had decided on anything.

“Can I help you?” Mick asks flatly, and the girl holds up a single finger, the universal signal for wait, and Mick huffs, but remains quiet. The girl adds a packet of gum to her haul, and leans her elbows on the counter.

“And a pack of Marlboros.”

Mick scowls.

“How old are you?”

“Are you being paid enough to care?” She responds, voice a low, challenging alto, and after a moment of deliberation, Mick actually shrugs, and turns to the cigarette display, picking out a pack for her as she pulled a few bills from her back pocket. After everything’s paid for, and the various food and drink had been stashed in the numerous pockets of her jacket, the girl is quick to open the cigarettes.

“They’re for my dad,” she explains, taking one out and putting it between her lips, grinning, “mostly.”

She passes a bewildered Tommy and Charlotte on the way out, giving them a flat look over, eyebrow raising minutely at the sight of Charlotte’s cheerleading uniform, but she’s quickly out the door. Tommy, flabbergasted at her display of confidence, marches straight up to counter and leans on it like he’d seen the woman do.

“A pack of -”

“Fuck off,” Mick tells him, before Tommy even finishes his sentence. Charlotte snorts a laugh, approaching the counter with a bottle of diet coke.

“Fifteen bucks on pump three,” Tommy sighs, pulling out his wallet, “and Charlie’s drink.”

“Do you know her, Mick?” Charlotte asks, still smiling, mind playing over the interaction.

“Do I look like I know her?” Mick grumbles, counting the handful of quarters Tommy had passed him with a ten dollar bill. Tommy, however, has never in his life taken Mick’s constant foul mood to heart, even when he probably should.

“He loves me, secretly, I know he does,” Tommy grinned when they were back in the car, heading to Charlotte’s house to drop her off, “we’ve known each other for five years, we’ll be friends any day now.”

“Tommy, he’s three days away from just decking you when you go to pay.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw me in front of traffic,” Tommy, ever the optimistic dumbass, chooses to look on the bright side. Tommy wears his affection on his sleeve, and seems to find himself trying to befriend anyone who would sooner fight him, if his hero-worship of local punk Nikki Sixx is anything to go by. It’s with a painful clarity that Charlotte realizes if he ever meets the girl from the gas station, he’s going to fall in love with her almost immediately.

Which makes Charlotte’s accidental and secret friendship with Nikki Sixx awkward.

“Oh Miss Lee,” Nikki whistles at her the following morning, wearing a grin that’s all teeth, “you know just what a guy likes to see on a Thursday morning.” He’s leering at her, leaning on the mesh of the fence, fingers hooked into the metal as he presses himself against it, his gaze trained on the pleat of her cheer uniform split upon her thigh over her tights.

“Every time you speak, I consider vehicular homicide,” Charlotte tells him with a sigh, straightening out her skirt, already resigned to the fact the rest of her free period was about to be co-opted.

“Then I’m glad you can’t drive,” Nikki’s still grinning, throwing his bag over the fence, into the garden Charlotte had thought was peaceful enough to study in.

“It’s the only thing keeping you alive,” she says, plastering a fake, sweet smile on her face, closing her biology textbook as Nikki vaults the fence a few feet away from her. She pulls her jacket a little tighter around herself, in an attempt to ward off the slight chill of the end of semester air.

Never in Charlotte’s life would she have intentionally tried to befriend Nikki Sixx. How was she supposed to know that two of her free periods coincided with when he liked to show up to school? And that the secluded garden area out behind the library where she liked to study in said free periods was the easiest place to sneak in?

She’s threatened to turn him in more times than he can remember, and he spits back that she should just find a new place to study, but she keeps showing up, and she never turns him in, and by now most of Nikki’s flirting is harmless.

They were both very much of the opinion that having a public friendship would be bad for the both of them; Nikki’s got more than a reputation of his own, both because his name technically isn’t Nikki, but he fights anyone who calls him Frank, and because he’s kind of a slut. Also there’s still an unconfirmed rumour about him being expelled from his first high school back in Seattle, since he’d joined their school a semester in Freshman year. Everyone’s too afraid to ask. Charlotte knows the cheerleaders aren’t above making hell for one of their own if they were caught fraternizing with someone like him.

That being said, Nikki had made it very clear that he’d rather saw off his arm than admit that they were even acquaintances, scoffing about how he’d lose any and all street cred he’d ever had if his friends found out he was hanging around Miss Everyone’s Best Friend Charlotte Lee. At the time, she’d taken offence to his tone, but she quickly came to learn that that’s just how Nikki is sometimes.

He offers her a cigarette from the pack in his pocket like he always does, sitting opposite her on the picnic bench instead of going to class, his bag still on the grass where he’d thrown it. Like always, Charlotte turns it down, but it does remind her-

“Saw a girl yesterday at Mick’s gas station that reminded me of you,” Charlotte flips to the back page of her notebook, which was already littered with little drawings, and starts scribbling idly.

“She hot?”

“I guess?” Charlotte says after a moment of consideration, “didn’t get to see her long enough to really be able to tell.” Nikki hums thoughtfully, and Charlotte, without looking up, “she asked Mick for cigarettes and he was like ‘how old are you?’ and she was like ‘are you being paid enough to care?’“

Nikki takes a long draft from his own cigarette, and kindly turns to the side to blow smoke into the wind, instead of directly into Charlotte’s face, as he used to do, or like he does when he’s annoyed.

“Mick would have mad respect for a move like that,” Nikki snorts, and when Charlotte looks up from her notebook, she sees him looking off into the distance, giving a genuine smile at the mental image. Maybe this is why she puts up with him, these rare genuine moments. He raises the cigarette to his lips again, and looks back at her, eyebrows raised, as if prompting her to go on. Charlotte looks back at her notebook.

“It inspired Tommy to try and buy smokes too, but Mick shut him down fast; I swear, if we show up when he’s clocking off, he’s going to K.O Tommy the first chance he gets.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw him in front of traffic,” Nikki notes, and Charlotte pauses, frowning. She hadn’t realised her hyperbolic threats on Mick’s behalf were a standard unit of measurement for how much he did or didn’t like her cousin. They were bullshit! Why did anyone take them seriously? Charlotte’s often astounded at her own credibility, and how much people tend to take her at her word without question.

“What’s she look like?” Nikki asks, flicking his ash into the grass, bringing Charlotte out of her thoughts.

“Who?”

“The girl from the gas station.”

“Oh,” Charlotte pauses, thinking, finally settling on, “she was wearing heaps of dark shit, had black hair, maybe that’s why I thought of you. I don’t know who she is though, didn’t recognize her from anywhere.” She adds, and Nikki hums thoughtfully, nodding. With his free hand, he snatches her pen out of her grip, despite her yelp of protest, and begins doodling pentagrams on the back cover of her notebook.

“You free tomorrow night?”

“I’d rather die than date you.”

“Charlie, you’re not my type -”

“Nikki, your type is tits and a heartbeat.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d fuck you, but I’d rather be castrated than date you,” Nikki responds flatly, and Charlotte quickly shuts up, scowling, “but my band has a gig at a place that doesn’t card, so if you and that overgrown Labrador you call a cousin can sneak away from mommy and daddy for the night, you’re more than welcome to come party with the big kids.” He smirked, flicking Charlotte’s pen back at her. Charlotte’s annoyance has simmered down at his offer, considering his words.

“Nikki Sixx inviting me to see his band,” she mused, sly smile curling at the corners of her lips, mischief glinting in her eyes, “you like me, don’t you? You like Miss Everyone’s Best Friend. Soon I’m going to be your best friend too!” At least she was self aware enough about her people-pleasing tendencies to poke fun at his scorn.

“I like that you’re cousin’s obsessed with me, so bring him too,” Nikki’s quick to correct, but his heart’s not fully in it, if the smile he’s failing to repress is anything to go by, “I’m just in it for the ego trip, sweetheart.”

Charlotte gags at the pet name; the bell rings.

“She smells like an ash tray,” is the first thing Charlotte hears when she sits herself with the rest of the cheer squad at lunch, and she’s terrified for a moment that Heather, the Vice Captain of the squad, is talking about her. Discretely, Charlotte sniffs at her hair, worried that the perfume she’d spritzed to hide any of Nikki’s lingering smoke had worn off quickly. Heather’s not even looking at her, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to the other gathered girls.

“Heather, half the people at this school smell like smoke,” Eileen cuts in as the voice of reason, taking a dainty bite of her food to punctuate her point. Heather’s expression sours.

“Yeah, but she’s pretty, why would she smoke?”

“Heather, you smoke,” Eileen rolls her eyes, and Heather sits back, crossing her arms, long, dainty fingers resting on her perfectly tanned and toned biceps.

“Yeah, but at least I have the decency not to smell like the bottom of an ashtray,” Heather raises an eyebrow, as if offering some form of challenge, and Charlotte watches Eileen bite back on a scathing retort, simply offering a withering smile, and continuing on with her lunch, “anyway,” Heather rolls her eyes, and starts up a new conversation with the girls on her other side, who were hanging onto her every word like it was gospel.

It’s quite possible that the tensions between Heather and Eileen may never actually die down, Charlotte considers, fiddling with the plastic-wrapped straw of her juice box. The thing is that Heather had only scored the position of Vice Captain of the cheerleading squad after Eileen, practically a shoe-in after two years on the squad and a pretty impressive acrobatic repertoire, publicly turned down the offer, quit, and joined the swim team the very next day, refusing to give a reason for any of her actions. A vicious joke circled the school about Heather being sloppy seconds, and despite Eileen never actually contributing to the joke in any way, or even acknowledging it, part of Heather still obviously resented her. The fact that Eileen still chose to sit with the cheerleaders despite not being one anymore, might also play into that, like she’s rubbing it in Heather’s face, even though she never would intend to do that.

Charlotte’s known Eileen for what feels like forever, since Summer camp in Grade School, living close enough to maintain a friendship, but not close enough that they were in the same district for Grade or Middle School. Both academically and socially minded young women, they’d found themselves in a number of clubs in those years that brought them face to face at meet or competitions, and thankfully, their local high school drew from a wider range of districts, finally bringing them together as allies, rather than competitors.

“Who were they talking about?” Charlotte asks quietly, stabbing her straw into her juice box, trying to keep their conversation discrete.

“A girl transferred into our grade -”

“On a Thursday?” Charlotte scoffs a little, “with three weeks left to go before Winter break?” And Eileen makes a noise in the back of her throat, an I know, it’s weird, right? Without saying any actual words.

“Something Fields; we just had French with her,” Eileen nods to where Heather’s now happily chattering with the other cheerleaders, earlier disagreement seemingly forgotten.

“Something?” Charlotte asked wryly, and Eileen gave her an amused look.

“Madame Laurent’s accent would butcher the name Sally, I’m surprised I managed to understand Fields,” and okay, she has a point, Madame Laurent’s French accent was half the reason any of the students studied the language, if only to understand her, because her English, while technically good, was sometimes incomprehensible.

“The girl didn’t correct her?”

“Nah, just kept quiet, embarrassed, I think,” Eileen mused, and Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, “though she did sit herself right next to Heather; bold move, I’ll applaud her for that.”

“Bet Heather didn’t like that,” Charlotte snickered quietly, and Eileen’s smile stretched into a full grin.

“She straight up moved the moment the girl put her bag down.”

“The poor girl,” Charlotte shook her head with a sigh, before clarifying, “not Heather, obviously.” Eileen snorted a laugh.

“What’s the new girl like?” Charlotte finds herself asking, intrigued.

“Quiet,” is Eileen’s immediate answer, “couldn’t get a good read on her, but she knows a decent amount of French.” But she deliberates for a moment, “looks kind of mean.” And for the barest moment, Charlotte frowns, mind flashing to the girl she’d seen at the gas station yesterday... it couldn’t be.

“Black hair?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I saw a girl at the gas station yesterday, black hair, kind of mean looking, Mick didn’t know her,” that was the big tip; Mick seemed to know all the gas station regulars, so she must be new. Eileen catalogued this information in her mind, but had no comment on it beyond a shrug, before reminding Charlotte that they had debate after school, and asking if Tommy would be sticking around to give her a lift home.

“He will be, he’s got practice until four too,” Charlotte said with a half smile, “and yes, he can give you a lift home too... Will Peach be needing one too?” She asked, referring to Eileen’s younger sister, but Eileen shook her head.

“She’s staying back until five every day this week to finish her science fair project, mom’s happy to pick her up - something about magnets this year - but I don’t want to wait around.”

“Wait, how long until the science fair?” Last year, Eileen, Charlotte, Tommy, and Vince Neil, who they’d still considered something of a friend at the time, had all come to support Peach in both her first year of high school, and her first science fair. Peach had come third, with a rather impressive display about which various household liquids killed plants fastest, and all three had cheered when she’d been given her ribbon, and Tommy and Vince spent the entire ride in the back of Peach and Eileen’s mom’s station wagon ranting about how she should have won, and scheming about how to best put a dead houseplant in their science teacher’s bed, like some low budget, home depot Scarface. Tommy may have become their friends via his place as a constant fixture in Charlotte’s life, and Vince simply because he had grown up as something of her neighbour and Tommy’s close friend, but their loyalty was absolute. Well, almost absolute. Vince was noticeably absent from their current roster of friends however, the then-four of them how vowed to make it a habit, and they could all tell Peach had been touched by the gesture, and Eileen, Charlotte, and Tommy were, at the very least, going to uphold that promise. A small smile plays on Eileen’s face.

“Next Tuesday, she’s so excited.”

if you put your mind to it, you can do anything. but you won’t.

So according to Eileen, Vince Neil is throwing a party on Saturday, and seeing as Charlotte’s parents still think the world of Vince after he’d been so kind of her after everything happened with her ex at the start of the year, she’s allowed to go. They went to middle school together, though he was always a year younger than her, in Tommy’s grade, and their parents were passive-aggressive PTA friends for a few years there, and, as mentioned before, he’d been genuinely sweet when she was at her lowest. Her parents don’t know that a week and a half into Summer break, right after he’d taken her to prom and promised to key her ex’s car if she asked, he started surfing, starting hanging out at the beach with the rest of the pretty, mean jocks spending their Summer in the sun, and had turned into a vain asshole. Or, well, more of a vain asshole than he already was.

Vince’s family was well off, and his parties were legendary, which is what made her parents agreeing to let her go so strange.

What they didn’t, and would never agree to, was letting her go to Nikki’s gig, so she didn’t even bother to ask. Instead, she asked to spend the weekend with Tommy and Athena. Her mother calls to confirm that that would be okay, Charlotte packs a duffle bag with outfits for the weekend, and her mother reminds her to take care of herself at the party the following night, kissing her on both cheeks when Tommy turns up in his beat up Vista Cruiser.

“Why are you hanging out with us tonight?” Tommy asks, frowning, still in the clothes he’d worn to school. Charlotte’s grip tightens on her duffle bag.

“Because we’re going out tonight.”

Immediately, Tommy’s posture straightens, and his expression lights up; he was delightfully easy to excite. Suddenly he was brimming with questions as he drove, fighting to keep his eyes on the road, and Charlotte let herself relax a little, glad to see he was onboard.

“Nikki Sixx’s band -”

“- is playing tonight!” Tommy finishes her sentence, his voice breaking on the last word out of excitement, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t comment, and it doesn’t stop Tommy’s eyes from sparkling, “he wrote it in sharpie in pretty much every bathroom in the school; you want to go?” Yeah, that sounds about par for the course for Nikki Sixx’s brand of advertising.

“You’re half in love with the guy,” Charlotte ignored Tommy’s spluttered protests, “so I wanna see what the hype is about,” she lied easily. She wasn’t a fan of lying to Tommy, he deserved better than that, but he also might crash if he knows that Nikki had personally invited them.

Tommy begs his mom to let them go, promising to be safe and be back by midnight, and the moment Charlotte vouches for him, his mother’s concern melts into agreement, and Athena complains that she’s never allowed to go anywhere. Tommy sticks his tongue out at her, and she kicks him in the shins, scowling, until Charlotte asks her to help her get ready, and Athena brightens considerably.

“Charlie you look like a badass!” Tommy delights when he steps out of the bathroom, hair all teased up, eyeliner expertly applied his waterline, wearing an outrageous outfit. He was going to fit in easily.

“Holy shit, dude, so do you -”

“Tommy! That’s my shirt!” Athena accused, storming over to him, trying to pull the tight, black tank top with the hot pink diamante lightning bolt off of him, despite his jacket over it, while he tried to slap her away.

“It looks better on me!” Tommy snapped, escaping her grasp and trying to hide in the bathroom.

“Dude, she’s thirteen, give her the shirt back, you can borrow one of mine,” Charlotte sighed, standing back from it all.

“Never!”

His mother called out if everything’s okay, and while Athena yelled that Tommy was stealing from her, Charlotte called back that she’d take care of it.

“Charlie, please,” Athena sulked, leaning against the closed bathroom door, while Tommy told his sister to piss off. Charlotte sighed, before giving the young girl an evaluative look.

“Would you let him wear it for five bucks?”

Athena squinted at her, seriously considering the offer; if Tommy had made it, there would be no way she would have accepted, but she knew Charlotte was good for it.

“Fine, but if he stretches it, I’m telling mom about his stash of Playboys,” she threatened, to which both Tommy and Charlotte made noises of surprise, Charlotte because she hadn’t known about that, and Tommy because he clearly didn’t think Athena knew about it either.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tommy hisses, wrenching the door open. Athena turns arms crossed, smile smug, and gives him her best try me look. Tommy wrinkles his nose, but stalks into his room, grabbing a five ones from his wallet and giving them to Athena, who Charlotte had never seen so pleased before.

“I hate her,” Tommy seethed, and Charlotte petted his shoulder in solidarity.

“I know,” and then, “aren’t you going to be cold?”

“I’ve got another jacket.”

The pub, Kings’ Hotel, sits on the border between suburbia and the CBD, and Charlotte’s been past it a million times, has spent a considerable amount of time idly staring out the window of MacCready’s Diner across the road, but never actually been inside. Speaking of MacCready’s, there’s a ton of scaffolding around it that Charlotte definitely doesn’t remember, and the sign’s been taken down, so it appears Tommy’s gossip about it being under new management was true.

There’s no bouncer, but high schoolers and music were already spilling from the building by the time Charlotte and Tommy showed up. The music is decent, if a little heavy, but Charlotte knows she could definitely get into it if she wanted to. When she approaches the building, she notices a gaggle of vaguely recognizable people all in a cluster, huddle together while they smoked to keep warm in the cold night air.

“Hi Heather,” Tommy calls out to one, putting on his most winning smile, and when Charlotte gets a proper look, yeah she can see Heather with her hair sprayed up and lipstick shiny, give her cousin a sceptical look. She does, however, notice Charlotte, and her expression shifts to something faux sweet and coy, a show of being amicable to someone obviously associated with a fellow cheerleader, and she gives them both a wave.

“I thought you had a thing for Pam,” Charlotte asks quietly as they push their way into the pub.

“Charlie, I’m into any and every cheerleader I’m not related to, why should I deprive any of the other lovely young ladies by only focusing on one girl?”

“Gross,” was Charlotte’s only comment. Tommy ignored her.

It was kind of overwhelming at first, between the loud music, the crush of people she half-knew, the fact that the bartender didn’t even blink when Tommy ordered a beer, or the fact that Nikki Sixx was on stage in skin tight leather pants, playing bass like it was his God given mission in life.

Her ex and his best friend had also been kind of obsessed with Nikki and his band, and she was coming to understand the hype. Between the swirling lights, the people on the dancefloor, and the heat of the crowd, it was almost hypnotizing to be a part of.

“You should get a drink,” Tommy urges, and Charlotte hesitates. She’s had spiked punch before, half a glass of wine at a family get together when her mom had been tipsy and feeling indulgent, and a couple of sips of beer that her ex had offered her when they’d gone to parties together, but she’d never really...

“I don’t know what to order,” she admits, hesitant, but still raising her voice over the music. Tommy offers her his beer to taste, but Charlotte was already well aware of the fact that beer tasted like piss, and she turns him down. She tries to think back to what people order in TV shows and movies, and tentatively approaches the bar.

“Could I get a jack and coke?” She asks, just thankful that her voice doesn’t shake. The bartender looks her up and down, checking her out without a hint of subtlety, and Charlotte fights the urge to pull her jacket tighter around herself.

“Of course, honey, that’ll be five-fifty,” the bartender smirks, and Charlotte gives an uncertain smile back, thanking him and passing over a ten dollar note. He gives her a five change, along with her drink and a wink. Gross.

“What’d you get?” Tommy asks, when she finds him again, standing against the opposite wall, already halfway through his drink. Charlotte’s holding hers in her fingertips, nervous, taking a sip and scrunching up her whole face at the taste.

“Jack and coke,” she hisses as the alcohol burns. Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up at her bold choice, and asks if he can try it. She offers it easily, and he too makes a face as he drinks, but pretends like it’s great.

They see more people they recognize, people confused but glad to see them out. They’re almost immediately accosted by Keanu, yet another face Charlotte hadn’t been expecting to see, and he wraps them both up in a hug; he’s all dark hair and wide, easy smiles, somehow everyone’s friend in a way that’s so different from how Charlotte seems to be everybody’s friend, but he and Tommy get on like a house on fire. There’s a resilience they both seem to have, and a shared enthusiasm, despite the fact that Keanu was a Senior, a year above Charlotte, and a full two above Tommy, but his good nature seemed to override these boundaries; the moment Tommy mentions he’d been thinking of heading to the dancefloor, Keanu’s more than happy to join him.

Immediately Tommy gulps down the last mouthful and beer and the pair of boys see fit to start cutting shapes on the dance floor with wild abandon, and so Charlotte finds herself at a table at the back of the room with Heather, a few other cheerleaders and their boyfriends, and surprisingly, Vince. He’s in white leather pants, and they look cool as hell, but also it’s Vince, and Charlotte’s fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Charlotte Lee, you’re looking fine tonight,” Vince slide into the space beside her, and Charlotte doesn’t roll her eyes, or make a comment about how he looks like a greasy snowman, no matter how much she wants to.

“Surprised to see you here, Vince, where’s all your popular little surfer pals?” She asks sweetly, and Vince raises his eyebrows at her, a retort on the tip of his tongue.

“I forgot you two knew each other,” Heather says, and she pauses, clearly deliberating, something dangerous in her eyes, “didn’t you used to date?”

“No,” Charlotte blurts quickly, though Vince is just as quick to deny it, “we’re friends- we were friends; not anymore. We went to prom together, yes, but we never dated.” She clarifies quickly, body language all tight and uncomfortable, which manages to go all the way over Vince’s head, and his hand comes to rest on his heart, expression reading betrayal.

“How long have been known each other, Charlie, for you to say we’re not even friends -”

And maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the alcohol, but Charlotte snapped.

“We were friends for years, Vinny, then six months ago you decided to spend all your time with a bunch of tools and bragged about taking me to prom because I was a cheerleader, and also - oh yeah, remember this? - made one of your best friends cry,” Charlotte hissed venomously, shoulders still tense, fingers gripping the edge of the table. Vince scowled.

“Peach wasn’t-” the words spill from him automatically, but there’s a flicker of something that may just be shame in his eyes, so he drops his gaze and starts again; “my friends are not tools -”

“The Vince who was my friend wouldn’t skip school three days a week to get high and fuck on the beach!”

“It sounds like you two have a lot to work out...” Heather seems genuinely surprised, and while she’d been fishing for gossip, this was too much, and she graciously backed out of the conversation, pulling one of her friends over to the bar. Charlotte was suddenly aware of how hot it was in the bar, how sweaty and oppressive it all felt.

“People can fucking change, Charlotte,” Vince scowled.

“You didn’t change for the better, Vince, whatever the opposite of character growth is, it’s what happened to you.” Charlotte spat, and turned on her heel before he can respond. She didn’t want to stand on the side side of the road out the front, so she heads for the door labelled Beer Garden, and steps into the cool night air.

Once outside, she realises how quiet it is, and when she sees Nikki Sixx at one of the tables with a blonde girl giggling in his lap, she comes to the conclusion that the band must be on break. The Beer Garden is mostly populated by smokers, the people around Nikki being the cool, intimidating, stoner punk rockers that she’d figured would be here, but that she can’t bring herself to approach. It’s nice to take a moment to be alone, she finds, breathing in the crisp night air, head feeling clearer for it, looking up at the stars glittering overhead.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Vince is a fucking tool. He’d made Peach cry the week they got back to school, and Charlotte had vowed to never forgive him for it.

After a few minutes, Charlotte takes the time to really look at the people milling around, wondering if she actually recognised anyone. Much to her surprise, in the back corner of the courtyard area, she did.

Side by side, Mick from the gas station, and the mysterious girl who’d bought cigarettes from him, sitting on the edge of a planter full of dead shrubs, both smoking, neither speaking, reading one magazine between the two of them.

Charlotte’s not quite sure who’s more likely to stab her, between Mick and the girl, and Nikki’s band of misfits, but she hedges her bets and heads to the pair at the back.

“Having a good night, Mick?” Charlotte asks tentatively, before giving pause. They’re reading a ratty old copy of Hustler. Mick looks up, and lets go of his side of the magazine, letting the girl take it, to keep flipping idly through.

“The band’s okay,” Mick muses, and seems to realise that his cigarette has gone out when he tries to take a drag on it, and he pulls out a lighter and relights it, “how’s your night been?”

“It’s been alright, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Charlotte gives an awkward laugh, looking to the magazine, which Mick seems to either have forgotten about, or not realise that he’s reading porn in public, but finally the girl looks up.

“Someone cut out all the tits,” she’s got an accent Charlotte hadn’t noticed back at the gas station, and still can’t quite place, but that’s not the part she focuses on.

“What?”

The girl flips the magazine around to show a Farrah Fawcett look-alike posing suggestively, with her entire torso cut from the magazine, just leaving a hole where the cologne ad on the next page can be seen.

“Found it on the side of the road on the way here,” Mick says, like it suffices for an entire explanation. Instead of elaborating, he offers Charlotte a cigarette.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” an awkward silence follows, Charlotte with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, while the girl close the magazine with a resounding slap and threw it over her shoulder into the dead shrubs, “I’m Charlotte.” Charlotte offers her hand. The girl looks at it, then to Charlotte’s face.

“From the gas station, the cheerleader” she says, tone unreadable, giving Charlotte a scrutinizing look, like she’s waiting for the blonde to shirk under it’s intensity. Charlotte doesn’t back down, and the girl finally gives her a firm handshake, “Lola.”

Silence followers, chatter filters over from the various other groups, Nikki’s laugh, loud and clear, above the rest. Neither Mick nor Lola makes room for Charlotte, so she sways idly from side to side, people watching the rest of the courtyard.

“Didn’t pick you for this type of scene,” Mick muses finally, crossing his ankles and fixing Charlotte with a strangely neutral expression, cigarette almost burned down to the butt where it’s poised between his lips, “that over-eager cousin of yours, sure, but this doesn’t seem like it’s your style.”

“Oh, Tommy is here,” Charlotte’s quick to clarify, looking around as if he were about to jump out of the bushes and irritate the rarely amicable Mick, “but, I don’t know,” she shrugged like coming out tonight wasn’t her idea, “I’m more than happy to give anything a go at least once; people at my school are kind of weirdly obsessed with the bass player, so I guess I wanted to see what the hype was about.”

Mick finished his cigarette as he considered her words, giving a pensive look to the bass player himself, still surrounded by a gaggle of fans, and eventually stubbed the last of the ash out against the edge of the planter he was sitting on, letting the butt fall, crumpled, to the ground.

“He’s the only one with any ounce of talent,” voice gruff, Mick’s approval comes as a surprise to both Charlotte, who’s eyes go wide at the statement, and Lola, who barks an unexpected laugh, that ends with her choking on the smoke in her lungs. Mick thumps her on the back, and she roughly when her breathing clears, tears watering in her eyes.

“Whoever writes their songs is half decent,” Lola points out, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, after which she dropped her own mostly burnt-out cigarette, crushing it under the heel of her boot. Yes, she has a point, but Charlotte’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“Can I ask...?” At her tentative tone, Lola immediately tenses, growing defensive, “are you Lola Fields?”

“Why?” Lola immediately snaps, and Charlotte raises her hands in surrender. Mick’s arms are crossed, looking with interest between the two girls.

“I think you go to my school,” Charlotte quickly clarifies, but Lola’s scowl deepens, as if wondering how she knew that, “do you take AP French with a tall, ginger girl?”

“I don’t really know who else is in the class,” Lola slowly tells her, but it’s not a no, which is all that matters. Charlotte nods, but doesn’t press the subject, “it’s weird that you know that much about me.” Lola adds.

“It’s barely anything,” Charlotte points out, baffled at the sudden defensiveness.

“You know my last name and that I do AP French,” Lola says, and her gaze shifts from Charlotte to the gaggle of fans surrounding Nikki, as they all started to head inside.

“Well,” Charlotte doesn’t let her resolve falter, smiling, “my name’s Charlotte Lee, and --”

“Oi, Cheerleader, you coming inside? We’ve got another set to go!” Nikki Sixx’s voice rings out through the courtyard area, and Charlotte visibly cringes at the sound of it, turning slowly on her heel, still wincing when she faces him.

And yes, he was talking to her, his hands are still cupped around his mouth like a megaphone, a tunnel showing off his smug and toothy grin. She hadn’t realised he’d even noticed her, but he had, and he needed her to know he had.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” she calls back, irritated. Nikki lowers his hands, and even from this distance she can see him raising his eyebrows.

“But you’re here, aren’t you?” He leaves the because I invited to you as an implication only she would hear, knowing she would hear it nonetheless. Charlotte sighs deeply, shoulders sagging with resignation, and Nikki, feeling as though he’d won, turns sharply on his heel and marches inside.

“I hate him,” Charlotte groaned.

“You know him?” Mick seems rather surprised, enough that the emotion could be heard in his voice. Charlotte turns back, not quite sure what to expect when she faced them. Mick is watching Charlotte with actual interest. Lola was watching the spot where Nikki had been, expression carefully blank.

“He’s a pain,” Charlotte says, defeated, and Lola’s gaze flicks to her, expression turning amused, but before she can get a word in -

“There you are!” The door to the now mostly-empty beer garden bursts open, and Tommy makes himself known. He’s left Keanu somewhere inside, apparently, now that he was on the hunt for his cousin. Mick sighs so heavily that it’s all he can do to lean back into the planter, arms crossed over his chest like a vampire, as if the very sight of the kid exhausts him. From this position, the packet of cigarettes in his pocket is exposed, and Lola steals one.

“I’ll owe you,” is all she says, as Tommy approaches, in less of a beeline, and more of an unsteady wave, more than a little tipsy. Christ, his mom is gonna kill them both.

“I was looking everywhere for you,” his wide eyes betrayed his concern, despite his current state, but his concern turns to joy, upon seeing her company, “hi, Mick!” Mick does not answer, laying with his eyes closed, in the shrubs.

“He’s dead,” Lola supplies without missing a beat, pulling out her lighter and lighting the stolen cigarette, and Tommy’s expression falls.

“We should help him -”

“I can help him, don’t worry,” Lola assures, with faux seriousness, before her tone shifts to something light, easily distracting the tipsy boy, “you were in the gas station the other day with this one, weren’t you?” She gestures with her lighter towards Charlotte; Tommy looks to his cousin before looking to Lola.

“I- yeah, oh, shit, you’re- hi,” suddenly flustered as he finally remembered where he knew her from, he offers his hand, “Tommy.”

“Lola,” there’s a new edge to her smile, sparkling in her eyes as she taking in Tommy and his whole look, which has something strangely protective flare up in Charlotte’s chest. But then Lola catches the slight frown on Charlotte’s face, and it’s like she knows exactly what she’s thinking, because she lets go of Tommy’s hand and her expression betrays on the faintest hint of amusement.

“Lola,” Tommy nods very seriously, as if committing the name to his memory in his current state was quite the task, but he persisted nonetheless. After a moment, however, he seemed to remember his original mission, “Vince thought you’d headed home -”

“Fuck Vince,” Charlotte spits automatically, venomously, a knee-jerk response, and Tommy’s stunned into silence.

“Do you want to go home?” Tommy’s far too earnest and concerned for his current state, and Charlotte feels momentarily guilty for her outburst, hanging her head and letting herself breathe for a moment.

“No, the music’s good, we just got into a fight -”

“You guys used to actually be good friends,” Tommy hesitates, confused, and Charlotte gives him a rueful smile when she looks back at him.

“Then he decided that being nice to the people who have been friends with him for years was lame.”

“He’s nice to me,” Tommy says, sounding a little put out, and Charlotte shrugged, crossing her arms.

“And he’s still nice to me, doesn’t mean he’s not a tool; I’m a cheerleader, and you’re a guy, of course he’s still going to be nice to us.”

Tommy still doesn’t get it, but Charlotte decides to head back into the pub with him, throwing over her shoulder that it was nice to meet Lola. She could almost swear she heard a muttered ‘fuckin’ teenagers’ from Mick, all of nineteen years old himself, which just has Charlotte rolling her eyes. Mick taps Lola’s arm when Charlotte glances over her shoulder, while the rest of him still lays flat in the dirt, and Lola passes him the cigarette obligingly, crossing one leg over the other and smirking at him.

it doesn’t matter if the glass is half full or half empty. i am gonna drink it through this crazy straw!

“Vince is on the warpath,” Eileen’s always been able to remain composed while unreasonably drunk better than any person Charlotte’s ever known, and the following night, while Vince’s house party rages around them in the living room of his house, is no exception. She won’t say how many vodka sodas she’s had, or who supplied her with the vodka, but the way she was unable to suppress the amused twist of her lips was a dead giveaway that she was a little more than tipsy.

“Oh?” Charlotte’s eyes were roaming from face to face at the party, never sticking to just one, hands clutching a red solo cup full of cheap wine.

“Someone told him the person who keyed his car was here,” Eileen’s close to laughter, and Charlotte’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Does he -”

“No,” Eileen shakes her head, taking another delicate sip of her own drink, “he thinks it’s one of Duff’s friends.” She says, before her eyes going wide, and she slaps her free hand over her mouth - “sorry.” Charlotte, who’s too tipsy to care about the mention of her ex, is more confused than anything else.

“Because of me?” She actually snorts, skeptical, “as if Duff or any of his friends cared about who took me to prom after everything happened, enough to key Vince’s car.” It’s been long enough now that she can laugh at it, and the warped logic of it all, knowing full well that the girl sitting beside her was the real vandal of Vince’s shiny, red car.

“Can you believe Vince asked me to invite Peach? After all that shit he pulled on her after Summer? I almost clocked him in the middle of the carpark!” Eileen’s movements were relaxed and uncomplicated, so unlike her usual demeanour, so easy-going, so honest, sometimes drunk-Eileen’s openness caught Charlotte by surprise, “told him to invite her himself if he wanted her there so bad.”

“I’m in awe of your restraint,” Charlotte mused, leaning into Eileen, letting her eyes fall closed in an attempt to keep the room from spinning in her vision, “he’s such an ass; I’m surprised you’re even here.”

“The nerve on him, acting like he’s too good to be seen with her because he’s got new friends,” Eileen shook her head, wrapping her free arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, securing her, still people watching, “I should have keyed him,” for a moment, she hiccups, and when Charlotte cracks her eye open for a moment to guage her friend’s current state, she sees Eileen glaring into her mostly-empty cup.

“I’m still deciding if I should pee on something he cares about,” Eileen says, tone so serious that Charlotte can’t help but dissolve into giggles.

“What?”

“‘s why I’m here,” Eileen was so earnest in her declaration that Charlotte was a little nervous, if only because drunk-Eileen would absolutely do something as undignified as pee on something of Vince’s in an act of revenge.

“Would you key Duff’s car for me?” Charlotte asked to change the topic, all soft and teasing, and she can hear rare, unrestrained the smile in Eileen’s voice when she assured Charlotte she would in a heartbeat, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Despite it still being early in the night, Charlotte knew that if she seemed drunk when she got back to Tommy’s house, her Aunt would tell her mom, and that’s the exact opposite of what she needs. Tommy can get legless if he wants, he only has to face the wrath of his weirdly supportive parents; if Charlotte comes home obviously drunk, she won’t be allowed out of the house until college. So she decides to get water.

There’s bodies everywhere, and Charlotte’s struggling to move through them, even with Eileen guiding her to the kitchen.

Charlotte’s been in and around this house so many times, it should be second nature to her; she and Tommy had spent what felt like half their childhoods in this house, within it’s pristine, white walls, and expensive, leather furniture, playing pretend trying to imagine what their future would turn out to be. None of them would have pictured this, of Charlotte, of Charlotte hating Vince and still stumbling, drunk through his house, nor had they seen Vince, playing pretend with popularity, tossing them all aside for a set of conceited fair-weather friends. Tommy’s never been able to predict his own future, too willing to go with the flow to be too certain of anything.

Away from the living room, and the record player, the music is muffled, and the chatter is quieter, as people are here for drinks, or snacks, while most were choosing to dance in the crush in the living room, or making regrettable, teenage decision upstairs.

Eileen tops up her drink with obviously spiked punch. Half vodka and soda, half spiked fruit punch. Gross. Charlotte looks on in disgust as she sips water, and Eileen acts like there’s no difference between taste, but she interrupts her own performance of stoicism when her eyes widen.

“Fields.”

“What?” Charlotte asks, confused as all hell, following Eileen’s gaze to where the kitchen opens up onto the patio, only to see Lola, in a full face of makeup, hair sprayed to high heavens, wearing all sorts of black, ripped, mesh and denim layers, looking like an intimidating cross between glam rock and crust punk. She was straddling someone’s lap, looking at them intently, what looked to be a black, eyeliner pencil in her hand.

“That’s the girl from my French class,” Eileen sounds a little surprised to see her, and Charlotte smiles a little.

“Her name’s Lola -” but her mouth drops open when Lola, in the dim light spilling from the kitchen, leans in and kisses whoever she’s sitting on. After a beat, both Charlotte and Eileen burst in fits of unsubtle laughter, not having anticipated this turn of events. They’re holding each other for support in their drunken amusement, laughing like this is somehow the funniest thing they’ve ever encountered, thankfully aware enough to set aside their cups.

“I- we’re intruding right? This is- we should leave-” they’re not even the only ones in the kitchen when Charlotte says this, gasping for breaths between her laughs, but they seem to be the only ones who have noticed what’s happening, or at least the only ones who halfway care.

Until there comes a shout of ‘yeah, get some, Tommy!’ from the bonfire about thirty yards from the patio, and Charlotte very clearly and distinctly thinks ‘oh no’.

Vince is silhouetted by the fire, bleach blonde hair catching the light, but Charlotte can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shut up, Vince!” Lola’s partner, who is now unmistakably Tommy, calls back, flustered, as Lola hides her grin against his shoulder. Vince and his cronies, none of whom Charlotte knows by name, jeer in response. Then Lola’s leaning back and saying something that Charlotte doesn’t catch, but suddenly Tommy looks inside, his expression turning from flustered and pleased to horrified as his gaze locks with Charlotte’s and they both know that she knows.

Eileen is wheezing with laughter beside her.

Charlotte sees Tommy’s now lipstick-stained mouth mutter ‘shit’. Lola follows his gaze, and waves awkwardly at Charlotte. Charlotte also mutters ‘shit’.

Charlotte tips out her water and gets herself another cup of wine from the back of Vince’s refrigerator. A lot has happened in thirty seconds, she thinks she deserves one more drink for the night.

#mick mars #tommy lee #vince neil #nikki sixx #motley crue #the pack #charlotte & lola #lola&charlotte #the angry lizard writes

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bre-meister · 3 years

Text

Spiders

Thank you @over-under-through1 for the prompts!

Butch’s class had run late and for an already unusually late class to run late meant that by the time he turned his car onto his street it was already late enough that most houses were dark. An errant light could be seen behind closed curtains here and there - some even turning off as Butch drove by as if reading his mind that it was just utterly too late to be lurking about in or outside the house.

Pulling into the driveway of the small two-bedroom house he shared with his girlfriend, Butch contemplated whether he should risk opening the garage and pulling in or just leave the car outside tonight. He knew that Buttercup tended to complain that on late nights like these the sound of the garage door rattling as it opened was enough to wake a normal person let alone someone with super hearing. He could see lights flashing intermittently through the front window and assumed that Buttercup had been watching t.v on the couch trying to wait up for him. She might not be asleep but it was more likely than not - it wouldn’t be the first time she’d fallen asleep in front of the television. Butch was tired and already annoyed at being forced to be out so late because his professor’s tangents went on tangents. He wasn’t quite sure he had the patience to deal with a sleepy, pissed off Buttercup Utonium at the moment, so he turned the car off.

Stepping out and closing the heavy door as quietly as he could, he made his way to the front door. He tried to keep his keys from clanging around too much while still trying to unlock the door. Butch expected the house to be quiet. Maybe he’d pick up on BC’s soft snores - she insisted she didn’t snore but Butch found it endearing if not a little cute - or the sounds of some random show playing from what he’d thought was the t.v. What he was not expecting, not in the slightest, were the multiple holes and char marks on the wall.

A loud commotion in the living room caught his attention and he went into defense mode, floating above the floor to avoid making any sound. If there was an intruder - although anyone would be stupid to try to break into a Ruff or a Puff’s house - he didn’t want to alert them anymore to his presence than he already had when he opened and closed the door.

Turning the corner from the entry hallway into the main room he was shocked to see Buttercup floating above the couch, lasers firing from her eyes every few seconds.

Well, he thought, that explains the lights through the window.

“Buttercup,” he whispered. When she didn’t acknowledge his presence he repeated her name a bit louder, “Buttercup!” A bit louder turned into yelling to be heard over her war cries.

She paused and looked at him quickly before turning back to whatever she had been doing before. Without his powers aiding him in tracking her motions, he probably wouldn’t have realized she’d even acknowledged him at all. He might have been tracking her motions, but it seemed that she was tracking the movement of something else.

A quick scan of the room told him that there was no one else there but her and him.

“Buttercup,” he sounded exasperated, annoyed, confused, but also curious at the same time, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“Well,” she started to explain but her eyes were still looking around rapidly, “ I was in the kitchen because I had cooked and I wanted to leave you some food out for when you got back and I was cleaning up and then I came out here to sit on the couch and wait up but then I saw a spider and I almost had it until you distracted me and now I don’t know where it is!” her rambling had turned frantic by the end.

It Butch’s brain, tired as it was, a moment to catch up to what she had said.

“I - a spider?” Butch was dumbfounded. He knew that his girlfriend had a fear of the eight legged creatures but he never thought it would express itself in the physical act of putting holes in the wall.

“Yes a - “ something moved out of the corner of his eye and Buttercup squealed - a most dignified squeal that definitely did not sound like Bubbles thank you very much - “SPIDER, YOU GET THAT SIDE OF THE ROOM IT CAN'T RUN FROM BOTH OF US!”

Somehow, the spider was managing to evade her erratic eye beams so Buttercup changed her tactic. Another beam shot out turning those beautiful jade eyes a menacing red. Unlike its predecessors, this was not a quick, contained blast but one continuous beam. The lasers followed the spider who was, somehow, still managing to outrun the blast. Butch realized that Buttercup was either going to fry the spider or burn the house down trying. Butch rather liked their little start-up and would rather keep the damage to a minimum so he decided to step in.

“Buttercup stop! Calm down!”

The beam continued - she wasn’t listening. Thinking quickly Butch flew up behind her and covered her eyes with his hands, effectively blocking the beams. His palms burned from the intensity of the lasers. His hands being so close to the source didn’t help either. Briefly, Butch considered that he hadn’t completely thought this plan through. In the end though, it was better his X enhanced skin took the brunt of the attack rather than the already scorched walls. They wouldn’t have held up much longer from the looks of it.

“What the fuck, it’ll get away!”

“No, it won’t. It’s just sitting on the wall or, well, what’s left of it.” The last half of the sentence was mumbled but with their superpowers he was more than certain she had heard him.

“Just let me handle it ok? I’d rather not have to sleep in the cold because you burned our house down trying to get rid of a spider.”

“Whatever, just make sure it’s gone! And I mean gone. None of that, taking git outside shit just so it can come back later!I don’t want to see another spider in here ever again!”

If Butch were less mature like he’d been in his youth, he would have laughed at her for the way her tone wobbled. She was clearly shaken up by the idea of the things she feared - and that list was very small - invading her home, her safe space. But this Butch, the one who had grown and matured recognized that teasing would only cause her to clam up and when it came to Buttercup and fear, her bottling it up never boded well for the future.

So, Butch simply slung his backpack around his shoulder and opened the bag. As he made his way closer to the arachnid he pulled out one of his textbooks. Crouching down, so he was level with the spider, Butch took a moment to address it,

“Sorry little guy. I hate to do this but,” he shrugged, “the missus had spoken.”

Standing up, Butch swung quickly using the hard textbook to end their little spider problem. He collected a tissue from another pocket in his backpack to wrap up the squashed spider.

Walking into the kitchen he saw Buttercup by the stove. The microwave was going behind her and she fidgeted as Butch leaned around her to deposit the tissue in the trashcan.

“Is it… is it over?” She asked quietly.

Butch couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped as he answered,

“Yes, Sunshine. It’s over.” he moved in closer, hands rising to grab her hips when suddenly she was on the other side of the kitchen.

“Uh uh. Wash your hands first!”

Butch raised his hands in front of him as he moved towards the sink. He made a show of washing and drying his hands. When he was done, he held them out in front of him, eyebrow raising,

“Good?”

“I suppose,” she hummed.

Butch spread held his arms out further and just as quickly as she’d dogged him earlier, she was in his arms. Her own wrapped around his neck as he placed his on her waist.

“Thank you. I know it’s kind of stupid but -”

“No,” he interrupted softly, “the way you feel, your fears? They’re never stupid. Not to me. I’ll gladly slay a spider for you anyday, butterfly. Especially if it means keeping the house from falling down.”

“I am sorry about that.” Buttercup looked over her shoulder at the decimated wall that used to separate the kitchen from the living room.

“Well, look on the bright side.” She said after a moment.

“And that would be?” Butch was genuinely curious as to what she was about to come up with.

“I mean, it wasn’t a load bearing wall,” she turned back to him and shrugged her shoulders, “ Now we have that open floor plan I’ve been saying I wanted.” Buttercup smiled playfully.

The laugh that escaped Butch’s moth was sudden and loud. If the neighbors hadn’t awoken by all the lasers and shouting they certainly would by the loud laughter at such a late hour.

Butch’s stomach growled reminding him that it was late and he hadn’t eaten since early afternoon. Buttercup’s light laughs joined him at the sound. Butch ignored his hunger. Instead, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Buttercup’s lips.

The two separated once the microwave beeped, signaling it was done heating up whatever was inside it.

“Common Mr. Hero. I put your plate in the microwave. Eat so we can go to bed. I’m tired and it’s late.”

Butch preened at the nickname knowing that it was only half a joke. Reluctantly he let her go sso she could get his food out of the microwave. He moved to the fridge to get them drinks before returning to the table where Buttercup now sat, a plate of hot food in front of his usual seat. Butch couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

They talked as he ate. She told him about her day and he did the same. As she launched into a story about some of the characters, as she called them, that visited her bakery - a small start up but Butch just knew that, with Buttercup’s talent, it would take off - Butch couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t mind the late nights as long as he got to spend them with her.

#PPG #ppg buttercup #ppg greens #ppg butch #ppg fanfic #arachnaphobia #My writing #sorry but in the green's house that spider was not making it out alive #it had to be done

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

The Break - ep. 03 - Georgia

Summary: Hershel and Annette find out that Maggie has been dating Glenn behind their backs.

A/N: I took a lot of liberty with Hershel the first time I wrote this so I wanted to align him more with his character when he was first introduced.

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“Annette you gotta talk to him! Please!” Maggie begged, standing in the kitchen as Annette prepared dinner for the family.

“Margaret. What your father says is law in this house, you know that as well as anyone. And he’s told you how many times that you are not permitted to date unless-”

“I know!” Maggie groaned. “Unless you both approve of the boy. But that was never gonna happen. Ya’ll wouldn’t let me date Glenn and I knew that!”

“Well I’m sorry you felt like that but going behind our backs was deceitful and wrong. You can use this time to reflect on your decisions and whether what you did, lying to your family, was pleasing to God.”

Maggie groaned, slamming her hand on the counter and then rushing out of the house, toward the barn. Anytime she had gotten into an argument with her dad and stepmom before she always went to the barn for some fresh air and clarity.

Beth had come home Friday night from a playdate with a friend to tell her dad two very important things. One, that she had seen you with ‘someone’ outside the diner when she was leaving with her friend’s family and two, that Maggie was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully for you the someone Beth saw was no one she recognized but the instant Hershel and Annette heard that Maggie wasn’t exactly where she said she would be on the night she said she’d be there they had looked through her room and her cellphone log.

And when she came home that night after her date they were waiting at the dining room table, Hershel with his stern pastoral face on and Annette looking unnecessarily near tears.

“It’s not like you’re hanging out with Daryl Dixon.” You’d told Maggie later that night on the phone as she cursed both her parents out of existence over the entire ordeal.

“I tried to reason with Annette and she won’t even talk to him for me. Told me he’s doing the right thing for everybody. Just cause Glenn isn’t Baptist.”

“And cause he’s Korean.”

“It ain’t like that.” Maggie argued. On more than one occasion you and Glenn both had told Maggie that her parents were walking the line of racism pretty thoroughly. They did the thing all churches looking for new members did, masking their doctrine with a welcome sign for all creeds and cultures and backgrounds and people. And it was fine if the majority white church had some Hispanic, black, or Asian patrons. All were welcome. But all were not welcome to date Reverend Greene’s daughter.

“It’s like that.” You replied. “You can be friends with whoever you want Maggie but they aren’t about to let you date someone who isn’t white and Baptist and from a family they’ve known since the creation of the earth.”

“Will you call Glenn for me? Tell him what happened?” Maggie requested, “I’m trying to talk some sense into daddy but I’m grounded expect for church and school. They said not even youth group!”

“I’ll call him.”

“I really love him, ya know? I know we’re in high school but I really think he’s the one.” Maggie admitted.

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry.”

Nothing came of Maggie begging Annette to talk to Hershel. She was insistent that Maggie listen to her father and abide by his rules and his rules were that she wasn’t permitted to date a boy that didn’t go to the church. The ‘what if he did’ argument got her nowhere either, Hershel simply reminded her that he didn’t and he would never and even if Glenn started to now out of the blue they would all know why and it wouldn’t be earnest.

When Beth told them, over the dinner table the first official night of Maggie’s grounding, that she had been on the phone with you, all her phone privileges went out the window too. She would go to school, pick up Beth and Sean, come home, do homework, and go to bed. On Saturdays she would help around the farm and on Sundays she would go to church and that was the end of it. There would be no social life. Even a few of her teachers had been informed that she was not to speak to Glenn Rhee.

“You know what I hate about small towns?” Maggie questioned, sitting on the swings beside you. The playground was fenced in, right beside the addition that had been added to the church some 30 years prior so that people could send their kids to a Baptist preschool. It was through church donation and preschool tuition that the playground had been kept up but it was still outdated compared to an actual schoolyard.

“No.” You replied, positive that she would tell you.

“That everybody just knows everything! And listens to everything daddy says! All week we were pulled apart, Mrs. Frasier told everybody that we weren’t allowed near each other!”

“I know. We go to the same school Mags.”

“But it ain’t fair! He’s not God, why’s he get a say in my personal life?” Maggie questioned.

“Just think, soon we’ll be in college. Then we can hang out with whoever we want.” You replied.

“I don’t think being in college will make your parents okay with the idea of you spending time with Daryl Dixon.” Maggie said, grinning, “where do they think your car is anyway?”

“At Dale’s. I told them Dale always comes by the diner and I knew he would give me a good deal. I just left out the part where it’s at Daryl’s house.” You laughed. “Speaking of, I kind of told him I’d stop by today.”

“Now?” Maggie asked. “This is the only social life I get all week.”

“Did you ask Annette if you could go dress shopping with me tomorrow after school?” You asked. “It’s the only day I have off. I switched shifts with Lori, she has another date.”

“Oh my god!” Maggie stood up from the swing suddenly. “Oh my god!”

“What?”

“Oh my god, I didn’t tell you!”

“Tell me what?”

“Daddy said I’m not allowed to go to the dance.”

“What?” You paled at the information. The only thing that wasn’t making the entire experience of going to the dance completely awful was the knowledge that Maggie and Glenn would be enduring it with you. But if they weren’t...if Maggie wasn’t going...then you would be sitting there in a hideous dress listening to Aiden bullshit with his football buddies.

“They both said, no dance.” Maggie said, dropping back onto the swing.

“I can’t believe it. Do you think they’ll change their minds?”

“If I can find a time machine and make them forget that Glenn and I are dating.”

Daryl was already working on your car when you showed up in his driveway. The cold weather had you in a white long-sleeved turtleneck and a nice skirt, tights keeping your legs warm. Your parents were one step away from becoming crazy fundamentalists but thankfully they only made you wear dresses and skirts on Sundays. You came into the car port where Daryl was, waving at him when he looked up from the car.

“Hey, hope it’s okay I stopped by.” You said, coming over to stand beside him.

“Yeah, ‘s fine.”

“Patricia won’t let me work on Sundays and Maggie is only allowed to hang out during church so...” you trailed off as you sat down in the lawn chair. You’d brought your backpack with you to church with the intention of going to Daryl’s afterward.

“So ya figured ya’d come antagonize me?” He asked, the hint of a grin.

“I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise!” You replied. “I brought homework anyway.”

While Daryl got back to work on your car you pulled out your history homework, balancing the textbook and notebook on your lap and wedging the pencil case between your thigh and the lawn chair. For the most part you focused on your notes for the Atlantic Revolution while Daryl worked though every few paragraphs you would look up. You found that you liked watching him, it was almost calming in the way he worked on a car but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable and you knew how weird it would seem if he caught you staring. There wasn’t much else to see from where you were sitting.

Behind your Jeep was Daryl’s truck and parked on the sidewalk outfront was a rust bucket of an old sedan that you guessed belonged to his father. It hadn’t been there on Halloween but it had been there the last time you stopped by. The backyard, from what you could see, looked as messy as the carport.

“Do you have any water?” You asked, standing up and putting your books on the chair.

“Thought ya were gonna be quiet as a mouse?” Daryl sassed.

“I am, I swear.”

“There’s water in the fridge.” He waved his hand over toward the refrigerator the sat beside the steps.

The fridge was closer to the back of the carport and gave you a better glimpse into his yard. There was a pop-up camper parked in overgrown grass and a shed in the far corner by the chain link fence. A picnic table sat in front of the camper along with a small grill.

“That’s cute.”

“What’s cute?” Daryl asked, saying the word like it was an insult.

“The camper...I like how it’s all set up.” You said, “my family goes to this Baptist camp every year and there’s this family that has a camper like that. They put string lights on theirs.”

“I ain’t putting string lights on my camper.” He said.

“It’d be so cute.”

“Yer not so good at being quiet are ya?”

"Sorry.” You grabbed the bottle of water from the fridge and went back to your seat. “I’ll be quiet. I promise.”

“Ya keep promising.” He pointed out.

You sat down and held your books up as evidence that you were getting back to work. As you resumed studying Daryl went back to working on the car, glancing up every once in a while, to make sure you were alright. Or so he convinced himself that was why. He thought you looked pretty, not that he didn’t always think that, and he couldn’t figure out why you kept coming around. He thought maybe you didn’t trust him with your car but then you weren’t hovering and you didn’t seem too worried about what he was doing to the car while you were there.

“Ya know ya don’t gotta come around every time I work on the car.” Daryl mentioned.

“I like hanging out with you.” You shrugged, looking up from your notebook.

“Well I ain’t here ta babysit ya.”

“I could give you an extra $5 an hour?” You teased, “and snack allowance. I prefer goldfish.”

“Ya always like this?”

“Like what?”

“A pain in the ass.” He deadpanned.

You pouted, “fine, I won’t come by next time. I’ll go hang out with Glenn or something...Reverend Greene found out him and Maggie were dating and now she’s grounded until she’s like thirty.”

“That the Chinese kid?”

“He’s Korean.”

“Ain’t surprised the Greene’s wouldn’t want him around they’re daughter.” Daryl replied.

“You don’t even know Glenn. He’s so nice-”

“Hey, I ain’t saying anything against the kid. Just saying, they’re old school. Most people ‘round here are.”

“It isn’t an excuse.”

“I ain’t disagreeing with ya, I’m just saying...they ain’t gonna change their mind.”

“Well anyway, I can go hang out with Glenn, so I don’t bother you.” You said, back on the topic from earlier. That you were a nuisance, which was the exact opposite of the effect you wanted to have on him.

Daryl rolled his eyes at you, “I didn’t mean ya had ta go. Just meant, if yer worried ‘bout the car I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not worried about the car.”

“What?”

“I’m not worried. You said you could fix it and I trust that you can.” You replied.

“Than why ya hanging around?”

“Its not the goldfish.”

“I’m being serious.” Daryl said, leaning against the Jeep.

“I like hanging out with you.”

Daryl didn’t say anything else, just turned back to look at the car before you could see the blush on his cheeks. He scrunched his nose and bit at his thumb as he focused on the engine and tried not to think about what you just said. He wasn’t completely friendless in the world. He had Rick, and occasionally Rick’s friend Michonne came around from the police academy, but he’d never had someone outright say that they liked his company. Especially not a someone like you.

taglist: @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @qrangr @twdeadfanfic @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @harpersmariano @cathwritestragediesnotsins

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kookiebunnii · 4 years

Text

pairing: mark(got7) x reader

genre: fluff for the birthday boy 🥳

word count: 4.3k

warnings: mature language

When Mark had been dating your roommate, you barely spared him a second glance.

Being a college undergraduate meant that you had plenty of exams and coursework to worry about without having to keep track of who Ingrid was “dating” this month. The two of you got along as well as two individuals who kept to themselves could get along. She was rarely home, and when she was, she’d spare you the awkward introduction to her new fling by quickly ushering him into her room. You always told yourself that your living situation could’ve been way worse, so you let Ingrid’s business proceed without much of a complaint.

You couldn’t even remember how long the two lasted, given the amount of fuckboys that had walked through her door. It was a wonder that you could even recall his name, to be frank. Perhaps he left some semblance of an impression because of the way he never walked around like he owned the place like most of Ingrid’s conquests. There were times you’d find an unknown shirt hanging haphazardly across the couch or one of your pudding cups gone missing from the fridge. Despite these occurrences, you disliked confrontation, so you chose to endure rather than address your grievances. While Ingrid had been with Mark, you remember being considerably more comfortable in your own residence.

If someone had told you that you’d be head over heels in love with Mark Tuan only a month after your roommate ended things with him, you’d probably have a good laugh. You were more invested in the comebacks of the boy groups you loved than some boy your roommate, of all people, had once been with. Besides, you were a commitment-seeking gal, and anyone that pursued your roommate was definitely not expecting anything long-term.

The suggestion that you would grow attracted to such a guy would have seemed ludicrous. Yet maybe this is why the saying “not everything is as it seems” exists.

The whole ordeal began relatively innocuously. You were waiting on your hazelnut latte at the university’s central coffee shop, preparing to head to the library for some much-needed studying. Midterms were around the corner, and you had spent one too many days dozing off in lectures to feel prepared. It seemed that most of the student population had the same idea as you, since the café was bustling for a Wednesday afternoon. You tried your best to stay out of everyone’s way, focusing instead on checking the time on your cell phone and planning out your schedule for the rest of the day.

When you finally have your order in your hands, you take a small sip before heading for the exit. Right when that happens, a form in your periphery suddenly rushes in and knocks the hot coffee out of your grasp. Thankfully, or as much thanks as you could offer in such a tragedy, most of the drink cascades on the tiled floor. Only a little of your latte scalds your hand and paints your white sweater with brown polka dots. The disappointment you feel about losing your drink is quickly overshadowed by embarrassment when people start staring and the painful burning blossoms across the back of your hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

Your offender rushes to grab some napkins, immediately going to work on wiping the floor. As his head is lowered, you try to think of a smart response. Just as you were about to give the rude kid a piece of your mind, he looks up and the words dry up on your tongue.

“Y/N?”

“Mark?” you finally manage, surprised he even remembered who you were.

He quickly hands you a napkin, looking even more apologetic before responding, “Here, for your hand and sweater…I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s fine,” you quickly reassure, doing your best to clean yourself up. The coffee will likely stain your sweater at this rate, so you decide to simply study at your apartment instead so you can change into new clothes.

This certainly puts a wrench into your plans, doesn’t it?

“Let me buy you another coffee. A new sweater too, it looks like,” he gives you a timidly awkward smile, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to do so.

You offer him a quick rise of the corners of your lips, but not much else. It still felt a little shocking and disappointing to be in such a predicament, and you sure as hell didn’t want Ingrid’s ex to be owing you any favors.

“As I said, it’s fine. Really. This was an old sweater anyways,” you grab the hem as you speak, before trying to dodge around him to leave.

When he quickly blocks your attempt to escape, you realize the guy’s reflexes are quite remarkable. However, you wanted to be rid of this awkward situation as soon as possible, so his actions made you purse your lips together in discontent.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. This really wasn’t the way I’d imagine bumping into you again. Literally I guess,” he shyly runs his hand through his hair, which is now surprisingly dyed blonde. You knew something about him was different, but now you pinpoint it as his hair. He used to wear his natural dark brown locks when he was with Ingrid, so the change catches you off guard. It suits him well though, the way it easily brightens his whole demeanor.

“Don’t worry about it, it happens,” you tuck your hand into your pocket and continue, “Look I’ve really gotta go, I have midterms to study for.”

He promises you that he’ll pay you back as you rush out the door.

It seems that Mark is a man of his word, because the next day, you find a mysterious package addressed to you waiting outside the door. With no shipping label and your name scrawled on the top of the box, your survival instincts tell you that opening it on the living room floor was probably the last thing you should’ve done. However, that happened to be exactly what you did.

The first thing you notice was a small note laying atop a variety of items that were wrapped up with layers of navy-colored tissue paper. Reading through the note causes a bright flush to dash across your cheekbones, as you realize that the suspicious package was from Mark.

Ingrid’s Mark.

You began to slowly examine the rest of the contents with less zeal, hoping that your roommate wouldn’t pop out of a corner and accuse you of having something with her old flame. The neatly-folded white sweater you discovered inside was very similar to what you previously wore before the coffee incident. However, the material was definitely a lot nicer and you spent a good two minutes just stroking the material with your fingers. His attention to detail regarding what you had worn was crazy good, leaving you more than a little impressed.

Moving forward, you found a package of instant coffee—hazelnut-flavored to be exact. You grinned, realizing that Mark’s attention to detail really was impeccable. Perhaps anyone could’ve identified the hazelnut syrup in your drink if they spent five minutes wiping it off the floor, but he had gone out of his way to identify the same flavor for you.

It was kinda cute, actually.

As soon as the thought appears, you quickly shake it out of your head. Mark couldn’t be cute. He couldn’t be anything more than somebody you knew, someone who was paying you back for an inconvenience. He was doing these things because he owed you—even if he wasn’t exactly obligated to go through such lengths.

Before you could try to evaluate your feelings about the matter, you decide to boil some hot water for the coffee you’ve just received. It seems as if the universe is conspiring against you however, as Ingrid emerges from her room right on cue. She gives the box on the floor a quick glance before asking, “Did you order something?”

You tuck the thin pack of instant coffee in your pocket next to Mark’s note. Your fingers tighten across the slip of paper, crushing it into a condensed ball as you spoke.

“Yeah. Just some random stuff.”

“Sweater’s cute,” she remarks, grabbing your gift and running her hands through the material in the same way you had previously. You felt something twist in your heart at her ministrations, as if her touch were contaminating and wearing away what that article of clothing had meant to you.

When she finally leaves after dropping the sweater back in the box, you take the entire box to your room and dump it in a corner of your closet with a slam so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore.

It just so happens that that package from a boy with golden locks would signal the start of a series of frequent disruptions within your day-to-day lifestyle.

Fate probably thought it would be funny to let Mark Tuan slip into your life little by little, for a few seconds each day, just to tease you. You were starting to wonder if the boy was stalking you, given how often you would see him at unpredictable intervals. If you went to the library to study, he’d be there borrowing a textbook from the front desk. If you wanted to buy a coffee and a pastry for breakfast, he’d already be at the cashier paying for his own. If you were rushing to class, slightly late because you’d overslept, you’d almost crash into him in front of your building.

He’d always give you that cute smile with a little wave of his hand to accompany it.

Your life was a grade A joke at this point.

Midterms had long been over by the time you finally took him up on his offer to hang out one-on-one. You had spent a lot of time and effort into putting him off, making excuses for why not a single day of the week would work for you. When November rolled around, all Mark had to do was raise his lower lip slightly in a pout for you to forget why you were trying so hard to avoid him in the first place. You’d never seen the boy purposefully act in such a cute way to get something, but it definitely made your heart leap in your chest.

Even when he took you to a nice minimalistic café to pay for a drink and slice of strawberry cake, he couldn’t stop apologizing for bumping into you during midterms season. You had honestly forgotten about it, but the way he talked about how foolish he felt after the whole ordeal made you smile unconsciously. The consideration he had put into making it up to you stressed him out greatly. He couldn’t stop wondering whether or not you even liked the sweater. Did it fit you alright? Did you actually like hazelnut lattes, or were you just trying something new out that day?

At this point you couldn’t help but laugh. It was such a minute detail, something he really didn’t have to worry this much over, but he had worried nonetheless. It was really silly of him, but also showed that maybe he was more than just trying to play with your feelings. You’re about to tell him how you appreciate the thought he put into his apology gift when you realize he’s staring at you.

“W-What is it? Is there something on my face?”

He shakes out of his reverie and reassures, “No you’re fine. It’s just, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh like that.”

You blink in confusion before playing with your napkin in embarrassment, “Oh uh…I’m not laughing at you. I promise. I just think it’s amusing that you cared so much since I never held anything against you in the first place.”

Looking back into his soft brown eyes is a mistake, because as soon as you do, your heart starts racing again. He gives you a grin of his own in response, brushing his honey-colored hair back to briefly reveal his forehead. It’s stupid how much that simple gesture makes you want to jump his bones.

“I’d say it was a worth it, considering we’re basically friends now,” he says, happily taking a sip of his iced americano.

The assertion makes you hesitate briefly as you ask yourself whether or not the two of you were “friends”. You didn’t know him all that well yet, but a part of you looked forward to doing so. If anything, the only thing holding you back was that he was Ingrid’s ex. She’d probably laugh at you if she found out about your interest in him, and it also meant that you couldn’t be sure who Mark really was. Ingrid was notorious for having her pick among fuckboys, and maybe Mark was just one of them who was really good at hiding it.

It seems that he notices your lack of agreement in his earlier sentiment, so he says, “What will it take for me to be your friend Y/N?”

Using your fork to play with the cream left from your cake slice earlier, you reply, “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t push you further, sensing that your answer probably meant something deeper than what you were able to convey. You feel thankful that he lets the matter go and goes back to giving you an excited puppy-dog look.

“Come on, there’s something I wanna show you.”

Turns out “something” means the ice cream parlor down the street. As he walks you back to your apartment, you can’t help but notice the way he goes to town on that poor cookies n’ cream ice cream cone.

“Are you trying to fatten me up with sweets today?” you muse, enjoying your second pastry of the day courtesy to Mark.

“As if. You look perfect Y/N—nothing a cheat day could do to you.”

It’s like the guy’s a professional sweet talker too, since he barely bats an eye at the compliment. Not something you’re used to, you try your best to not blush obviously at his statement.

God, everything about Mark Tuan was too much for you. He was the epitome of a honey boy.

The walk is fairly interesting, as Mark turned out to be simultaneously a good listener and a good conversation carrier. He’d ask you some questions that you were comfortable answering, listening intently as you shared some details about your studies, your childhood, the things you liked and the things you didn’t. You knew he was paying attention because he’d always laugh along with you, as you recollected some embarrassing things that had happened to you in the week prior.

By the time you reach your apartment door, you’ve forgotten exactly who Mark was supposed to be to you. In his large, tan hoodie with his hands in his pockets, he felt like a nervous boy walking you to your door at the end of a first date.

But could you really expect life to do you any favors just when things started to look up?

The door swings open just as you fumble for your keys, and out steps the last person you wanted to see. Ingrid takes one look at Mark and another at you before a smirk blooms across her bright red lips. Her makeup told you that she was heading to another one of her parties where she’d definitely bring a boy or two home.

“Long time no see,” she addresses Mark first, giving him one of those smiles that probably instigated all those hook-ups she partakes in.

You can’t help but feel overshadowed and uncomfortable. It would hurt you beyond measure to see the two flirt with each other right in front of your eyes. You had half the mind to just push past Ingrid and call it a day, but Mark’s words stop you in your thoughts.

“Sure.”

It’s curt and simple, lacking the flirtatious tone that Ingrid had injected into her words earlier. If you didn’t know any better, it honestly sounded downright bored—as if the speaker couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

Not giving her much to work with, Ingrid turns towards you instead. “Didn’t know you’d go for my sloppy seconds Y/N.”

Your throat feels dry and you refuse to let yourself expect anything different than the reaction your roommate just gave you. Of course, you expected her to make fun of you. It made sense that she would think of you and Mark being outside the apartment as you picking up a boy she left behind.

But why did it fill you with shame anyways?

“As if anyone would. I wouldn’t get involved with one of your boy toys,” the words leave you mouth with disgust, a tone you couldn’t help given the way you were trying so desperately to hide your true feelings. Liking Mark was dangerous and it would mean that Ingrid was right. You weren’t involved with him. You couldn’t be.

As soon as your statement pierces the air, you sense Mark’s form stiffen next to you. Immediately, you’re filled with regret. Did you need to word things that harshly? Even if you could never get to know him beyond being an acquaintance, he had shown you nothing but kindness. He never tried to get in your pants or act like a certified sleazeball like you were insinuating.

When Mark turns around and leaves the two of you standing in the hallway, it’s almost like you’re stuck in a wall of honey. The figurative sticky syrup prevents your limbs from making a move after the blonde-haired boy, as you’re stuck watching him go—watching him hurt over your words. Your throat tightens painfully with the way you try not to cry, fearing that you really ended up harming a boy that didn’t deserve the way you just portrayed him.

For the next 11 days according to your count, you don’t see Mark again. You were used to finding him leaning around the corner, listening to music on his airpods as he waited for a friend’s class to end so they could go play basketball. You had just started to adjust to his daily presence by entertaining the idea that you could start spending time with him. Props to your big mouth and careless words for shattering the prospect to pieces. The sense of guilt you carried was far heavier that the notebooks you lugged to class, and you were hoping—no, praying that you would see that bright smile of his to unexpectedly bump into you again.

Maybe meeting him again was the most luck you were fated to have.

As you doodle in the margins of your notebook, wearing the sweater he bought you all those weeks ago, you formulate an apology plan. If you showed him you were sorry, actually really sorry, maybe he’d forgive you. It wasn’t like you deserved it but seeing him again would sure beat the dreary days you were currently victim to.

Wracking your thoughts for comments Mark had made to you regarding things he liked, you realized he hadn’t talked much about himself beyond seemingly having an affinity of cookies n’ cream ice cream. He did mention wanting to have a puppy if his apartment landlord would allow it though. If it were possible for you to be more depressed, you realized belatedly that he had spent a good amount of time learning more about you than you did about him.

After your classes, you head out to find something for him. It wasn’t like you could afford getting him a puppy, especially since he literally told you he wasn’t allowed to have one, so you searched for the next best thing. It took you a few hours of searching to find something that satisfied your expectations, and you set out to spend the rest of the day preparing it for when you would confront Mark yourself.

Standing outside of his apartment at 9 PM on a Friday night was probably one of the dumbest decisions you ever made, and you made a lot of those. He probably didn’t even know that you knew he lived here. Ingrid had made you pick her up once from a party one of his roommates hosted when she was still with him, and your trusty sense of direction never really allowed you to forget how to get from one place to another. Even if you wanted to turn around and run home straight away in fear, you forced yourself to knock on the door with three quick thumps.

Praying that it was Mark and not one of his rambunctious roommates who opened the door, your wish actually comes true and you’re greeted with the sleepy frame of the honey boy you missed so much over the last two weeks. He’s wearing a thin white tee with grey sweats, as he rubs his eyes as if he can’t believe he’s actually seeing you at his door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he quickly runs a hand through his hair, as if trying to hide the fact that you probably just woke him up.

Did Mark always look this good? It’s actually unfair how pretty he is.

Clearing your throat, you gather up as much courage as you could muster before saying, “Yep it’s me. I’m here to beg for forgiveness.”

“What for?” he tilts his head slightly in question before mumbling, “Come inside, it’s cold.”

He gently rests his hand on your shoulder before urging you inside, and the way he touches you sends a shiver down your spine. Trying not to let any surprised noises escape you, you hurry on into the warmth of the apartment. You look around as you take your shoes off, noticing how surprisingly clean it is despite five boys living here. Perhaps your preconceptions need to be changed.

You shyly trail behind his large figure as he leads you into what appears to be his room. Taking note of the light-up rainbow keyboard and gamer chair with scarlet red highlights, you realize that Mark is one of those boys. You almost laughed aloud imagining him as one of those kids that whined “Mom I’m busy!” while playing Call of Duty.

He collapses on his bed unceremoniously with a groan, looking like he was ready to pass out again. Wondering who in their right mind took naps at 9 in the evening, you awkwardly stood in front of him while playing with the ribbon of the gift in your hands.

Opening one eye to look at you, he sits up and pats the corner of the bed closest to him. Wide eyed, you point to yourself before pointing to the same bed corner. He chuckles, and the deep sound sends another shudder through your body.

“Yes, I’m talking to you silly,” he grins, as if he had already forgiven you.

Hurriedly, you plop your butt down on the bedsheets and push your apology gift into his hands. He seems confused at first, messing with the sides of the wrapping paper as he examines what you just gave him.

“I got this for you because…I’m sorry for the things I said,” you relax, shrinking down in sadness before continuing, “You’re my friend.”

He looks at you through your entire confession, hanging onto each word that slips out of your lips. When you stop and slowly look back at him to gauge his response, he gives you a small smile. But it’s only when he grabs your nervous hand in his own do you finally let the small sigh hiding inside your chest escape you.

“I’m more than just someone Ingrid messed with. You know that, don’t you?”

Nodding quickly, he laughs as if admiring the great bobblehead impression you were giving. Your hand in his grasp starts to become unbearably warm, as you bite your lip to keep your dangerous thoughts at bay.

“I thought I knew everything that happened. But I don’t, and I shouldn’t hold that against you,” you admit, slightly losing your train of thought when he begins to gently rub circles into the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Don’t hold that against yourself either.”

You allow yourself to meet his gaze again, and the amount of warmth and comfort you find there almost breaks you down instantly. Perhaps he knew more than he let on regarding the inner turmoil you struggled with by only thinking of Mark as someone Ingrid once had. But from the first time he ruined your study plans to the moment he bought you various sweets until you verbally forgave him, he was slowly disproving those preconceptions. The amount of understanding he offered you made you feel even worse for referring to him the way you did all those days ago.

All along you thought that Mark was bad for you. Perhaps it was you that truly didn’t deserve him.

Momentarily pulling away from your fingers, he begins unwrapping the package you brought along with you. Suddenly nervous, you fiddle with the hem of your petticoat as he slowly pulls out the adorable puppy hat you purchased for him from the mall yesterday. Mark stares down at the hat in his hands, and it’s only when he bursts out in laughter do you finally let your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“What are you laughing at? I-It’s cute!” You stutter, furiously crossing your arms.

When he finally stops his fit of laughter, he sets the hat on his head in triumph as if he were wearing a crown of honor. Seeing it on him makes you giggle too, knowing that it was somehow possible for the boy you liked to get even cuter than he already was.

“Here, press the paws and the ears move,” you hand him the paws that dangled from the side of the hat and experimentally press one of them to demonstrate.

Mark spends the next few minutes pressing the ears at varying intervals and laughing at his reflection in the mirror.

“You know, maybe I should get upset more often. You’re great with gifts.”

Rolling your eyes, you retort, “Sure thing, honey.”

-----

#got7 #got7 fanfic #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 mark #mark tuan #mark x reader #mark tuan x reader #mark tuan x you #mark x y/n #mark x you #mark fluff #mark tuan fluff #got7 oneshot #mark ff #got7 ff #happy birthday mark #i love you

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jeminy3 · 4 years

Text

A Kingdom of Isolation. (NaruMitsu Frozen AU Snippet + Outline)

Next to the Titanic AU, I also attempted this one during late 2019 after seeing Frozen 2 in theaters and getting a lot of ideas about Edgeworth as Elsa and the flaws of the first Frozen film. Once again, this was fun to work on while dealing with life at the time, but after spending so much time and energy just building a believable setting and plot, I no longer have the energy or interest to properly write this.

The following is a summary of chapter 1 and the snippet for the end of the chapter.

Read the rest on AO3

Read the rest on Google Docs.

Click here for old art of this AU and the ideas I had.

+This is the end of what would have been the first chapter. Phoenix was the prosecutor of 1-1 with Franziska as co-counsel, who whipped and berated him the whole time for being bad at his job, which he is, losing handily to Mia and Maya on defense. After talking to them in the lobby, accepting defeat with grace because Larry is Larry after all, he is whipped again and eventually sent home to the Von Karma/Edgeworth Law Firm, punished with mindless paperwork for the rest of the week. Phoenix grabs lunch at Eldoon’s and is reminded of the white streak in his hair and scar on his head, which he thinks is from an accident 15 years ago. Then he goes home, mulling about his life and what’s led him to this point.

+His memories include parallels to “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” wherein he attempted to get Miles out of his room with offers like “do you want to build snowdogs,” “do you want to help me study,” and now this part:

-Phoenix arrives at the law firm, puts his leftovers in the break room fridge, goes to his desk and begins doing paperwork. He gets bored enough to have a dumb idea, and heads down the hall to Miles’ office, and once again tries to connect with him.

He knocks on the door. “Edgeworth?”

No response.

“I know you’re in there… you always are. Um… Do you… want to help me build some case files? For practice, y’know.”

Silence. Despite knowing better, stupidly, Phoenix continues.

"I had my first trial today, by the way! I lost, of course, but I mean- Larry was the defendant, so he was innocent anyway. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. You know how he is. If something smells...”

Still no response. Phoenix clears his throat awkwardly.

“Y- You know I was never great at prosecuting. So I mean, of course this would happen. I’ve told Von Karma SO many times, but you know him. ‘Defense is the WEAK side of justice. Prosecution is the ONLY way.’” He dips his voice into a nasally, gravel-like tone to mock their mutual mentor. The effort makes him laugh, between the ridiculousness of it and the way it tickles his throat.

Suddenly Phoenix hears shuffling, and the soft sound of footsteps approaching the door. They’re the same heavy footfalls that usually preceded Edgeworth opening the door for a crack wide enough to peer at Phoenix with one cold, grey eye and tell him to leave, he’s very busy. Again. As always.

Phoenix swallows, and decides to jump to that possibility first. “Now, before you come yell at me to go away again, I just want to say-”

The footsteps stop, suddenly. (Huh. That actually worked. Now what?)

Phoenix swallows again, feeling a chance to release at least a little bit of the heavy, choking weight in his chest.

“Um. I… I know you don’t like me anymore. And I don’t blame you, y’know, I’m… impatient, and reckless, and- I can barely pay attention to textbooks, so I just kind of wing everything, and I know that’s really annoying to you, since you take your work so seriously all the time- And like I said, I’m really bad at prosecuting, I don’t know why anyone bothers with me honestly, or what anyone expected today…”

His voice grows watery as he goes on, and he decides he’s letting out a bit too much, so he stops. He’s also noticed the footsteps coming closer, but much quieter now. And he can see the shadow of a figure in the foggy, frosted glass of the door’s window. It draws close, but makes no move to open the door.

“...Miles?” Phoenix dares to whisper.

He thinks he hears a muffled sigh, and the figure’s head bows, coming to rest against the glass in a circle of pressed hair and skin.

Something flutters inside Phoenix – it’s the closest he’s ever been to seeing Edgeworth's face again in years. He feels the need to also lean forward, bow his chin and rest his forehead against the glass, near Miles’ own.

“I… I miss you,” he says quietly. “We used to be really close when we were kids, and… I just... I miss it.”

“So do I,” the voice of Miles Edgeworth finally says, quietly, through the door – not only responding, but recognizing the pain and distance between them.

Phoenix squeezes his eyes shut, forces back the tears welling up as best he can. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out.

“Don’t be, Wright, it’s not…” Miles stops, then sighs again. “Just- Stop selling yourself short. You’re certainly not the worst prosecutor I’ve seen.”

Phoenix snorts a little. “Well, I guess that’s better than nothing.”

Edgeworth makes a quiet breathing sound that must be him laughing under his breath. “I don’t hate you, Wright. I never did. It’s just... “

Phoenix, feeling the weight of fifteen years pressing down between them, makes an educated guess.

“...It’s our parents, isn’t it?”

“...Yes,” Edgeworth eventually says with a deflating sigh, his breath fogging the window glass further. “The case never was solved… technically, it’s still open. The statute runs out in only a week... Then it’ll be off the records completely.”

Phoenix startles a little, lifting his head. “...You’ve looked at the case files?”

“I have,” Edgeworth says. “Here and there, over the years. I don’t know why, I never find anything new, and it only feels worse. I just…”

“...You want closure,” Phoenix finishes.

“...Yes.”

“So do I.”

Silence falls, heavy with the pain of wounds that never fully healed, questions that were never answered. Phoenix breathes, closes his eyes, remembers the way his mother crinkled her eyes when she smiled, the warmth of Gregory’s laughter. He lets the memory hurt him, just a little, before pushing it away and climbing up through the waves of grief before they wash him away again. He has a bold, potentially stupid idea.

“Maybe… we could look at the files again? Together? See if we can… I dunno, find something...?” (This is a terrible idea…)

Edgeworth chuckles again, louder, as its clearly audible through the door. “And how would that be helpful when I’ve failed to find anything new or substantial in all these years on my own?”

(Good question…) “Uh… I don’t know, honestly,” Phoenix says. “But- they always say, two heads are better than one! At the very least, it’s worth a shot before the statute runs out.”

Edgeworth hums softly on the other side of the door, and his head finally moves from the glass. His silhouette shifts on its feet before he speaks again. “Actually… I just might take you up on that, Wright.”

(Wait, really?!) “Wh- Really?”

“Maybe,” Edgeworth replies, “After the inheritance ceremony, of course, and if I can make time from the case I’m working on.”

“Uh- y-yeah, of course! Any time! That you’re free, that is. Uh- shoot, I’ll have to make some time too, but- Yeah, yeah, let’s try it!”

Edgeworth lets out another small, muffled laugh on the other side of the door, and Phoenix is only glad to hear it. “Someone’s certainly excitable… You never change, Wright.”

Phoenix scratches at his neck, finding himself flushing there. “Aw, well…” He wants to say, Well, you’ve changed too much, but considering the small miracle he’s achieved just now, the thought is quickly pushed aside.

“Well,” Phoenix starts again, his heart pounding in his ears, “I’ll uh, see you later then?”

“Later, yes,” Edgeworth says, with just enough hints of warmth and giddy awkwardness that Phoenix can believe he’s just as excited about this too, and no words can encapsulate just how incredible it is that this is happening – well, going to happen. Hopefully.

It’s more hope than Phoenix has allowed himself to feel for a long time, so he takes it in both hands and grasps it more tightly than anything else in his life. Spending time with Miles, just seeing him again, is worth that much and more.

After bidding him goodbye and goodnight, Phoenix could almost skip down the office halls, he’s so excited.

–

On the other side of his office door, Miles Edgeworth listens to Phoenix’s fading footsteps and sighs to himself, a hand on his door’s window.

He studies himself and his surroundings – all over the skin of his hand, and the furnishings of his office, is a layer of sparkling ice and frost, glittering with a strange, ethereal light.

He closes his eyes and concentrates, calming the small storm of emotions the recent conversation had awakened within him. In response, the unnatural ice around him begins to recede, vanishing with tiny crackles of sound, not a drop of water left behind, until its reduced to a small halo of white around him.

He looks at his surroundings again, somewhat satisfied, mostly forlorn. He bows his head, studies the now-bare skin of his knuckles.

“I’m so tired of hiding,” he says quietly, to himself. “...And if anyone deserves the truth, it’s you, Phoenix.”

#narumitsu #wrightworth #frozen au #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #jeminy writes

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

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Remoras Full Chapter XXIX: Mother of the Forest

When I received the call, an open refrigerator door hummed as its light leaked through to the dim space that was my apartment. Its light chill came as a breeze while I placed a bag of grapes within. Automatic, robotic, subconscious movements: standing in place, pivoting from one item to the next. I once heard that every seven years, the human body becomes anew, the old self having died out. There was a faint memory of a self of mine, a few deaths ago, long before the idea of having children ever came to pass, who stood and bagged groceries for minimum wage, and wondering how she would balance work and getting through high school.

In that same moment, I repeated that past life, in a more private setting. Just an hour prior, I had been the customer in line at the checkout counter. The woman behind me who I assumed to be one life older than I, arguing with the cashier over an expired coupon. Her spittle flew over the counter, and the scrawny and zoned out worker covered his face with the back of his arm as a means to protect himself.

I’m better than that. I’m not that kind of person, I often told myself, although if I had any sense of honesty, I often was. Something about the desire to be right, even when you know you don’t have a case, held such a sweet and sour taste; some of the grapes in the fridge had already spoiled from my last grocery visit.

My hand reached for the bottle of cranberry juice, but it soon became out of reach as my phone vibrated right beside it. There was a disconnect – a momentary hesitation – where I stood in place.

Just put that juice away, then answer it, my thoughts buzzed and scraped across my ears. Who was I to deny them? I had no expectations that the call would amount to anything of substance. If I had to guess, it might have been my boss, ready to beg and guilt trip me into working on one of my days off. That was a foolish decision, as I didn’t even notice the name on display on the screen. If I had, I would have picked up right away.

So it buzzed. Twice. On the third buzz, the refrigerator door swung closed and I picked up the phone. That was when I saw the name on the phone and a magnetic pull from below sent all the blood in me to sink down to the tip of my soles. When I tried to speak, I thought I would only manage a gasping breath. But instead, it was a normal, if gasping, voice:

“Demetria? Is that you?”

Not since I last heard from her, several months back, did I ever think I would hear from her again. No, maybe that was unrealistic. It wasn’t that I didn’t think I would hear from her at all: a simple hi every now and then sent through text, happy mother’s day or happy birthday messages. Those were the least (or most) I could hope for. But what it was instead was a belief that she had gone down the same path of the rest of my children and was too busy with her own life to think much of me.

So when she told me the truth, that she had dropped out of college, moved to the arctic over some crush, and worked as a waitress in a restaurant, I was elated. Any shock or sense of betrayal I may have felt didn’t register because there she was, alive, and wanting to come home. One of my children actually wanted to see me! It was enough to make me want to tap my shoes together and do a little jig!

After our conversation, however, I had no choice but to be aware of the environment I was in: empty, so empty. Every little space was covered by every day objects or some assortment of clutter. Paper towel rolls, post-it notes, bowls of fake fruit, tea and coffee cups, a box of makeup from that time I was suckered into buying from a friend’s multilevel-marketing gig. That was just a small sample of things which took up space on the kitchen counters. That didn’t even cover the hallways or the living room.

It was funny, really: when my kids lived with me, I’d get onto them about cleaning the house and made sure they did so. But when it came to me, alone and (in my own mind) free, I pretty much said, “fuck it, this is my space” and let the clutter do its thing.

Well, it sure did its thing, didn’t it? Hopefully Demetria wouldn’t mind.

When it came time to meet her, I felt the pervasive feeling that she wasn’t someone I recognized. It wasn’t the green hair, although that I didn’t expect. Nor was it her coming out, which although the notion never crossed my mind, didn’t really come as a surprise, either. Her loss of interest in her studies? Unfortunate, but not unheard of, especially when one attends university. Her new interest in knives? Concerning, but I could live with it.

No, it must have been something else. Even when she tried to revert to her old self, who I knew her as, I could tell there was something different. What it was, I just couldn’t place, but a thought crept in which brought shivers across my spine:

Maybe she’s not different and maybe I just never knew her very well to begin with.

That thought didn’t know what she was talking about. As far back as I could remember, Demetria was someone withdrawn and preferred her alone time. She valued hers and others’ hygiene and was quick to judge others, but also seemed to have a good heart deep down (at least, I’d like to think so). I always tried to give her her space, as I knew I would have wanted the same if I were her.

But there were little things which made me wonder if I was perhaps living with a different Demetria than the one I raised. One such example was when I sat at the sofa, watching one of my soap operas, Young and the Breastless, when I took a quick glance beside me to see none other than Demetria, pacing about and reading a book. Well...I assumed she was reading, but the book was upside down. She shook her head while she paced, flipping from page to page.

“Nope. I just can’t get into this,” she muttered, and it sounded less disappointed and more like she hadn’t yet given up hope that she would. I leaned forward and saw the title of the book: ‘Banana Fish.’

“What’cha up to?” I asked, and the show no longer took up my attention, instead becoming white noise.

“I’m trying to get back into marine biology, so I figured I’d read a new fish textbook, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get into it,” she explained and peered up from her book.

“Are you sure it’s about fish? I see a couple of guys on the cover,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m assuming it’s one of those edutainment-type deals. Y’know, like Pajama Sam. Anyway, they haven’t actually talked about fish yet, but maybe it’s a slowburn textbook.”

Call it mother’s intuition, but something told me that book had nothing to do with actual fish. Props to her for trying to get back into her old interest, but she ought not to force herself.

“You know, you don’t have to get back into marine biology,” I suggested, “maybe pick up a new interest. What about knives?” That was such a weak suggestion, but it was something.

Even with her glasses on, she squinted, although it seemed less like a vision thing and more for effect, as if to say, “are you crazy, mom?!” It was weird to admit, too, but I already missed her green hair and as much as she tried to appear and act like her old self, it only seemed to highlight how much she had changed.

“What am I gonna do? Knive-ology? I don’t think that’s a thing,” she snapped her fingers for added effect.

Her old self would have just said something like, “I don’t want to make a career of that.”

I knew she had returned home due to having such a rough time with someone, but if anything, she had been more expressive. At least, around the house. I still couldn’t get her to go outside. Through every cycle of one’s life, it seemed at the core, some things remained.

Another day, I was watching a different soap opera on my day at work, this show called ‘The Good Doctor’ (yeah, generic name, I know).

“Good doctor! Your patient is having heart complications!” The assistant rushed to the good doctor in a panic. The good doctor sat at his desk with a suede suit and a polka dot tie and looked up, a bushy eyebrow raised.

“What’s the complications?” He asked, before pushing himself out from his seat.

“It’s complicated! Hurry!” The assistant urged the good doctor, who then rushed into the patient’s room. In the room, the patient leaned up from his bed, a shriveled up old man.

“Are you a good doctor?” He asked, a gravelly voice.

“I am the good doctor,” the good doctor replied, rather humbly, too.

“My heart keeps beating,” the patient moaned. “I don’t know why.”

“That’s what hearts do,” the good doctor answered, and a smile spread across the patient’s face.

“Wow, thanks doc. I’m cured!”

My viewing experience was interrupted by a plop as I turned to my right to see Demetria’s face looking back at me while she hung off from the top of the couch upside down.

“What’cha watchin’?” She asked in a tone that indicated that she was bored and didn’t really care.

“The Good Doctor,” I told her as I tried to keep my attention fixed on the show.

“Gee, I sure hope so,” she snickered. “If I was at the hospital, I know I’d want to be seen by the good doctor, not the bad one.”

I nudged her.

“Since when are you such a smart-ass?” I asked.

“You missed a lot of character arcs,” she continued the snark. “I went through several developments and regressions, and now I’m here.”

“I can see that,” I teased right back. Yes, two of us could be sarcastic.

“No, but for real, I’ve always been like this,” her voice turned quiet, contemplative. “I’ve just usually kept it in my head.”

That. That never occurred to me.

“Well, it’s fun,” I remarked. “I’m really glad to have you around.”

Her (glasses-less) eyes widened, then turned to a near-squint.

“You are?” She sounded quite puzzled by such a statement. As if it weren’t obvious to her.

“Of course! You’re my kid!”

“What about your other kids?” She pointed out.

“I love them, too, but they never come visit me. Well, Hestia does sometimes, but that’s still rare. It gets lonely here, you know.”

“What assholes,” she scoffed. I nudged her again.

“Those are your siblings you’re talking about!” I scolded, something I didn’t think I had to do. Oh well, it was a playful scold. “They’re good people, they’re just busy much of the time. Hestia’s an architect and works with various non-profit groups on the side. Hermes has his job as a fitness instructor. Then there’s Log...he’s busy being Log.”

“Sheesh, what’s with all these Greek myth names, anyway?”

I drummed up a storm of laughter, something which wasn’t really funny, but sometimes I just laughed to reminisce.

“Funny story about that…” I caught my breath. “Back when I was your age, I won a contest to go study abroad in Greece.”

“Did it come with a time machine?” She butted in.

“Are you gonna keep snarking or you gonna let me tell you?” I shot back. In response, she slunk down the couch, then sat up in a flurry of movements.

“Fire away, cap’n!” She gave me some goofy salute.

“So while I was at some museums, I met this nice Turkish guy and we hit things off pretty well. We went to a nice cafe and I got to unload my love of myth to him. That’s when he laughed and told me he was half-Greek himself, and he was visiting some family. After I went back to the states, we kept in touch as penpals and sent letters to each other back and forth. You probably don’t need me to tell you the rest.” I stopped myself. If I were to continue, it would have been a much longer story than it needed to be.

“Uh, yeah I do. What’s that got to do with giving us weird names?”

“Well, you know how there’s that tradition in our family to name ourselves after trees. My mom named me Sequoia, and she was Cypress. So when I had my first kid, all the relatives wanted to know what tree-related name I would give them. I gave it some thought and then decided that I wanted to do something different, so chose the name of a goddess I loved, Hestia.”

“Ugh, Hestia,” Demetria groaned, “it’s always ‘Hestia is bestia’ and ‘is there nothing Hestia can’t do?’ It’s grating.”

While I admit the praises seemed rather excessive, I was proud of her, just as much as I was proud of all my children in some way or another.

“Next came Hermes, and at that point, the whole family was up in arms, begging and pleading for just one tree name. So I compromised and said that if I had a third kid, I’d name them something tree-related. That seemed to get them off my back.”

“Thus, lo and behold, Log was born,” Demetria raised her head up and put her hand to her chest, almost singing out the words. Talk about dramatic.

“But then, you were born, just a few years after Log. I really didn’t expect to have another kid, and I figured to balance things out, I’d name you Sycamore. But then I decided: fuck it. You’re Demetria. And the rest was history.”

Yes. I was sure she heard the explanation before, but I suppose it bore repeating. It was just a shame that she never got to meet her father.

“What was he like?” She once asked me.

“He was a kind man. Patient, loved to listen to others. Never had a mean bone in his body. You would have liked him, I’m sure.”

“Would I have?”

“Maybe. I suppose it’s hard to say.”

Yes. Just a few months before Demetria was to come into this world, Beet Root (he took my last name) lost his life in a car accident. It was hard, to say the least. More than hard. But what else could I do? I couldn’t just stop raising my kids. So I continued on, through the grief and confusion. So it may have gone that she was born with a little bit of grief and confusion as well.

At least with the way things were, there was more time we could spend together. More things I could learn about her. There were still things I would have liked to see from her, though: making friends, finding a job, getting outside more. All things she didn’t seem to want anything to do with. I mean, she came out to me, didn’t that mean she wanted a girlfriend? It wouldn’t happen if she didn’t try.

I know, I’ll help her out, I thought in the middle of my shift. While my main job was working front desk at the Himbo Hotel, I’d sometimes work as a part-time taxi driver on the side. It didn’t pay a lot, but it was fun to meet different people, sometimes.

One person that I picked up was a tall and twig-like girl with blue and pink pastel colored denim clothing (jacket and pants) and hot pink hair.

“Are you Macie?” I asked as I rolled down my window.

“I might be,” she replied, then got in through the backdoor.

Once she was in, I let curiosity get the better of me.

“So...I’ve got a daughter,” I mentioned.

“Yeah? You want me to babysit her?” She asked offhand.

“No, no, I was just wondering if you’d like to meet her.”

“Why?”

“Well...she’s gay…” As soon as those words left my mouth, I saw her put the back of her hand over her mouth in the rearview mirror and laugh.

“Okay then, what’s she like?”

“Hmm...well...she likes...knives?” I just realized how hard it was to describe her to someone else.

“No thanks, I’m not into the hardcore type.”

“She’s not hardcore! It’s just an aesthetic thing...I think. She also likes to work out, and she’s got a bachelor’s degree in zoology.”

There. I think I listed enough positive traits.

Macie shrugged.

“All right, I’ll bite. I’ll write down my number. But if it turns out to be one of those weird catfishy things, I’m blocking both of you and leaving a one star review.”

I gulped, but couldn’t help but whisper a triumphant “yes!”

After I dropped her off at her destination, I returned home and raced to Demetria’s room to deliver the good news. I knocked on her door and after a few successive pounds, she opened up. She stood with a small towel over her forehead, a black tank top on, and working up a sweat.

“Hey! Guess what? I got a girl’s number!” I couldn’t wait for a greeting, I just had to tell her.

“Aw, you didn’t even give me time to guess…” She turned her head and looked down, disappointed.

“Aren’t you excited?”

“Oh, yeah, grats.”

“No, not for me! For you!”

“Oh. Not interested,” she turned away.

“Come on, you might like her! At the least, you might make a friend!” I urged her. She should’ve at least tried.

“I don’t wanna make any friends, especially not with someone I know nothing about.”

“It’s not good to shut yourself off in your room!” I pleaded.

“You never had a problem with it before.”

...She had a point. I shouldn’t have minded so much, but I just really wanted to help her out and didn’t know how.

“You’re right. I hope you’ve had a good day,” I softened my voice, then closed her door.

Other than watch TV and eat together, we didn’t really interact much. That was fine, we didn’t have to, but she should’ve at least interacted with someone. What I saw in her wasn’t someone who was in her room all the time, indulging in her study. Instead, I got the notion that she was deliberately avoiding going outside. As if there was something out there that she was afraid of. If that was the case, I didn’t know what.

There was one girl I managed to get her to speak to, though. Granted, it was her sister, but it was something. Especially since I knew how much she didn’t like to spend time around her siblings.

I had a video call set up with Hestia on my laptop.

“Hey mom, how’s things been?” She asked, her bright smile ever-present on her face. She was seated at the dining room in her own apartment, a much more effervescent air surrounded her while her tucked back teal hair took up a large part of the top of the screen.

“I’m good, things have been great, actually. Demetria’s living with me now,” I told her.

“Oh? I remember how freaked out you were a while back ago. It’s good to know she’s okay.”

“I know, right? Apparently she went to the arctic for a while because of a crush.”

Hestia laughed, a sort of high-pitched “ohoho” laugh.

“She always did do her own thing, didn’t she? I regret not being closer with her, but what’s done is done and there’s no room for regrets.”

“You could come visit,” I suggested. And it wasn’t just that I was lonely. “Maybe you two could hang out or something.”

Hestia put her index finger on her chin and hummed.

“I would like to, but you know how busy I can be. I won’t rule it out, though, ‘kay?”

I sighed. That was the best I could hope for, wasn’t it?

“By the way, it turns out she’s gay.”

Again, hum.

“I’m not surprised at all,” she replied, that same kind voice as ever. “Did you hear about Hermes’ new boyfriend?”

I shook my head.

“No, what’s he like?”

“No idea! But he says he has one, and he seems happy, so that’s all that matters, right?”

“Heh, guess so. Say, how’s things with your girlfriend?”

“Good, good. Aphrodite’s been helping me volunteer at an animal rescue on my days off.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Maybe you and Demetria can bond over your love of women,” I suggested. That was met with another hum.

“That’s a decent enough idea, but everyone experiences love differently, so we may be too different to relate to one another.”

Just because it wouldn’t be exactly the same, that didn’t mean the two couldn’t relate, could it? That just didn’t make sense to me. Yet when I could have voiced as much, I didn’t.

“Would you like to talk to her right now? I could go get her,” I instead said.

“Of course, I’d love to say hello to my dear sister!”

“Demetria!” I called for her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she made sluggish motions toward the dining room. After rubbing her eyes, she looked my way.

“What?” She groaned.

“Wanna say hi to Hestia?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, then looked at the laptop screen. “’Sup?”

“Why hello, Demetria! You’re looking as cute as ever!” Hestia oozed joy from the swaying of her head.

“Uh, thanks. You’re looking tryhard as ever, yourself,” she replied in a flat, deadpan tone. I nudged her.

“Be nice,” I whispered. She looked up at me in response, a wide-eyed and pathetic expression on her face.

“No puppy dog eyes, either.”

“How have you been, Demetria?” Hestia seemed to wave off the snarky remark, “do you still shut yourself off in your room?”

My face felt like it was about to turn red, but Demetria seemed unfazed.

“I shut myself off in your mom,” she shot right back. As if she was some grade-schooler.

“Ew. We have the same mom.”

Yes. That same mom was listening to the two of them as they spoke.

“Uh...well…” Demetria stammered as she struggled to save face.

I snickered. Now both girls looked at me and in unison asked, “what’s so funny?”

“It’s nice to see you two get along so well,” I remarked.

The two laughed as well at that notion.

“Yes, I agree,” Hestia proclaimed, “it was nice to hear from you, my dear sister. You look well.”

“Yeah, later, spoiled princess,” Demetria shrugged, then walked away. Then, the unexpected happened:

“Butthead!” Hestia yelled back, and stuck her tongue out. Upon realizing what she had done, she put both hands over her mouth. I shook my head.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“I don’t know, that was rather unbecoming of me. Do forgive me,” she spoke all fancy, then gave me puppy dog eyes as well.

“You’re ten years older than her! You’re supposed to set a good example!” I cried out. To that, she raised and index finger and with her eyes closed, gave a triumphant smile.

“Actually, we’re both adults, so if anything, she should know better than to have such an attitude!” She declared.

Once again, I shook my head.

“Talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you too, mom! Do give Demetria my sincerest of apologies!”

The video call ended. As much as that (began and) ended in bickering, it was still progress. They spoke to each other. Baby steps. Maybe after that, she would branch out a little more and –

I could only wish.

About a week after that conversation, I got off work and noticed a text on my phone. I opened up the message and I felt my heart caught in a bear trap:

Demetria: Hey, try not to worry too much when you get home, but I won’t be there. I went outside and got a smoothie like you wanted me to. It was good, but it got me thinking how I the whole time I’ve been with you, I’ve felt stuck. Not stuck because of you, but stuck because I haven’t found any interest that I’ve felt passionate about. I don’t know what I want to do and it frightens me. So I’ve decided to go off and try to figure things out. I’ll see if I can stay with Juniper for a little while, maybe a change in environment will help. Love you, and goodbye for now.

I rushed home. I tried texting her back, but it wouldn’t send. I tried calling, only to receive dead air.

Her phone must be off. But why? Is she in danger?

Frantic, unsure of what else to do, I called Juniper.

“Hey, is Demetria with you?” I asked, as Juniper answered right away.

“No? Not unless she’s hiding somewhere. Why?” She seemed genuinely puzzled by my question, meanwhile I was still hyperventilating.

“She left me a message. Said she’d be with you.”

“Huh. I haven’t heard anything like that. But maybe she’s on her way? I dunno.”

“Okay. Just. Let me know if you see her, okay?”

“Sure thing! Hope she’s doing all right!”

“Me too.”

I hung up. Next was Hestia, but not because I thought she’d know Demetria’s whereabouts, but just because I needed someone to vent to. The phone kept ringing, but there was no answer. Then it timed out.

Of course. Because she’s always doing something.

However, just a minute later, Hestia called back.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” She greeted.

“Demetria. She...she…” I had trouble getting it all out.

“Everything okay?”

“I don’t know. She ran off.”

“Oh my…”

“I don’t know what to do. She left a message saying she’d see if she could stay with Juniper.”

“So maybe she’s with Juniper.”

“I called her and she said Demetria’s not there. I’m worried.”

“Yeah, I can tell. When did you last see her?”

“This morning. Right before work.”

“That’s probably why. I’d say it takes more than an afternoon to reach Juniper’s place.”

Right. That thought never occurred to me. But then, where would she stay on her way there? Motels? What if something bad happened there?

“I’m just...I really thought she would stay. I gave her her space. I let her do whatever. But she didn’t want to make friends and she didn’t want to leave the house and –”

“...Sounds like she left the house, though,” Hestia pointed out.

“You’re right. I should be happy. She’ll be fine. She was fine before.”

“Mom.”

“What is it, dear?”

“Chill. She’s an adult. Just let her do her thing. She’s always been an independent person, so let her be. If she wants to come back, just tell her ‘no, I’ve made my choice.’”

I balked.

“I couldn’t do that!”

“I’m not saying to be mean. Look, I know this family’s known for being overly nice, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a pushover. It’s bad enough you’re a worrywart.”

“I just don’t want to be too tough. I remember how Juniper’s mom was and I told myself I wouldn’t be like her.”

“You’re not…” Hestia muttered, then continued, “you’re afraid of letting her go, aren’t you?”

That struck me. Not because of how harsh it was. No, her tone of voice was sympathetic, if anything.

“I just wanted to spend more time with her,” I began to tear up, “She didn’t stay for very long and I thought I could have some company.”

“I understand. It probably gets lonely.”

“It does…”

“It’s not too late for you, either. You can try to make friends, you can go out and have fun. You should take care of yourself, too.”

“You’re right,” my voice turned weepy, but I smiled. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course. I gotta go, mom. I’m busy petting goats at a petting zoo. Did you know that statistically, one in five goats don’t get pet?”

“One of your volunteer works?” I asked.

“You know it.”

The call ended after that. So once again I was left in an empty house, full of clutter. Days went by, the same routine, and I waited for some update, some word as to where she was. So far, nothing. At a certain point, I considered adopting a ferret. I hadn’t quite decided yet, but it might help.

#remoras full #wriitng #stories #this chapter is on the short side #I admit this chapter is kind of rough in terms of quality #but thats okay #im allowed a not so good chapter every now and then

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stevenuniversetanzanite · 4 years

Text

Ally x Cordelia X Reader (Part 1)

This was inspired very loosely of fanfic of the same ship I’ll link it when I find it again. It being me what's to make it as extreme and niche as possible.

Anyways, stay safe, wash your hands and maybe enjoy this first part to a story.

Also I haven't seen much of cult so Ally is mostly based off fanfics and my own creativity. I'll get around to it eventually just haven't gotten the time yet.

Summary: The three of you have had your fair share of troubles but what will happen when all your pasts’ come to for the foreground.

Warning: N/A

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four (will be added when posted)

"Ally?" You stared at her confused. Why did she look petrified? In the low lighting, you couldn't see the redness in her eyes or the tears leaking from them. Her hands gripped your shoulders tightly. Your eyes darted around the room trying to piece together what was going on. Last thing you remembered you went to bed cuddling your girlfriend, wishing your other one was there. Alas, she was out on council business and didn't give a time she would be back. Ally's right hand landed on your check, drawing your attention back to her. "Why are we in the infirmary?"

"I was kind of hoping you could answer that."

You worked in your other girlfriend's school infirmary. It wasn't much of an infirmary, it had one bed, a cupboard full of various medical supplies and medical textbooks, a bench, desk and chair, a skeleton in the corner with a Santa's hat on you hadn't removed from Christmas and most importantly, a jar full of lollipops for the younger students (and older ones but don't tell anyone).

You looked over to the bed checking to see if anyone was down here you had to check on. If there were really hurt or need extra surveillance/care you'd keep the girl down here for the night instead of setting them up in their room.

"Uh~"

"I found you standing here staring down at the bed as if someone was in it,” Ally told you. You glanced down at the bed before looking back at her.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You didn’t know what she wanted to hear. You were the doctor here, you knew what she was most likely thinking, sleepwalking, but a large number of sleepwalkers can remember the reasoning behind their actions. Maybe you weren’t one of them. You probably weren’t- it’s a one-time thing, that’s all.

Ally went to say something when the two of you heard a jingle of keys at the door, distracting both of you. She told you to stay there but you weren’t going to listen. It was your job to protect the school when Cordelia was out, you needed to make sure it was her and not someone breaking it. You passed Ally, standing underneath the door frame and poked your head into the hallway giving yourself perfect sight of the front door.

Three bodies crept into the Coven, whispering amongst themselves. Exhaustion evident on the two younger girls. Zoe was the first to enter, closely followed by Queenie and Cordelia. In the early hours of the morning, none of them expected you to be up. Zoe was the first to spot your presence, her face deadpanning on sight, she nudged your girlfriend and Supreme, then motioned to you.

None of the teachers were happy about your long hours. They had all found you passed out in random locations during the day, or covered one of your few classes to ensure you get some decent sleep.

These women weren’t just your colleagues but your friends. The coven was one big family, more so now that Cordelia runs it. You all took care of each other. Some prices had to be paid to keep calm. Sleep was one of them.

“Y/N, What are you doing up so late?” She asked once she settled her belongings down by the front door. She walked over to you, you met her halfway. She placed a kiss on your check, concerned why you were up in the early hours of the morning. “Did a student get hurt?”

Ally took your place under the door’s archway, leaning against the white frame. Cordelia was less surprised that both of you were up. On the nights where you had to remain in your office/medical bay hybrid (or woken at an ungodly hour because someone would need you), Ally wouldn’t want to go to bed until you returned. She had a constant urge to take care of you. It may be due to you being the youngest (13 years younger) or you’re innocent, naive personality (similar to Cordelia before she became supreme). Cordelia would have to convince Ally that you would be fine up alone and you’d return to bed as soon as your job was done.

They both saw aspects of themselves in you which helped draw them to you, they were already going out before you returned to the academy. At times, they treated you like you were their child, all you had to do was tell them off and they would stop.

Without Cordelia present to keep her in bed, she had no one to hold her back. It must have been an all-nighter, Ally tended to be a deep sleeper if she falls asleep cuddled up with one if not both of them. Cordelia couldn’t be further off.

“Everyone’s fine, all girls in bed like there supposed to-”

“What are you doing up then?”

“Y/N-” Ally went to answer the question for you when you cut her off.

“-is completely fine.” You hugged her before she had a chance to think, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too sweetheart.” Cordelia looked over to the other woman, giving her a look of confusion. With every second that passed, she grew more doubtful of words that left your mouth. Cordelia broke away, she moved to Ally to greet her in a similar way, a kiss on a cheek and a hug. This one was shorter, you had clung onto the blonde woman while the brunette was more focused on keeping her close enough for her to hear her whisper, “I need to talk to you later.” Cordelia gave her a nod of acknowledgement and whispered something back to make it seem that she had whispered a “welcome home”. Neither wanted you to catch on.

“You must be exhausted after flying, we should head to bed,” You said.

“Actually, I could really use a bath,” Cordelia admitted.

“That can be arranged, dear,” Ally said. “Baby, do you think you could start her bath? She does always say you make the best ones.”

“You do,” she agreed, smiling warmly at you.

You looked between the two. Ally wanted some time alone, as soon as she was gone she was going to tell Cordelia. There was no putting this off. You decided to be a doll and carry up Cordelia’s bag for her while the other two head to the kitchen to get a drink.

“You should have seen her, her eyes, I’ve never seen them like that before. They stared straight through me.” Cordelia just sat there listening to the brunette voice her concerns. In all the years Cordelia had known you, she had never once heard about you sleepwalking. You had no history of it as a child when you originally joined the academy, she would have been warned and you hadn’t done it in your 18 months back. “I knew I should be concerned”

“Ally, it was just once-”

“How do you know? It could have happened any of the other times she got up in the middle of the night. We wouldn’t know because you keep me in bed.”

“All we can do at the moment is keep an eye on her. If she does it again we’ll put in some protection measures so she doesn’t get hurt.”

“Like locking the door?” They both knew they couldn’t do that, their door was always unlocked in case Oz or one of the girls needed them.

“Something like that,” Cordelia said. “It’s been a while, we better head up.”

Neither raised any concerns with you. You almost thought Ally didn’t tell her but there was this look that Cordelia would give you, only for a second before morphing into something else to mask it. She knew but didn’t find it important to bring it up. Not yet anyway.

It was two weeks later, you were falling asleep at your desk. You had a lot of free time during school hours. You didn’t teach many classes, you offered students a free place to chill if class got too much or if they got hurt. It wasn’t uncommon in a school of young, inexperienced witches for someone to get hurt and be sent down (that’s why you spent the school hours in your office) and a drop-in or two a day wasn’t uncommon. You always advertised yourself to be a free pair of ears, acting a free unqualified counsellor.

Majority of the time, you picked up Ally’s son Oz from school, and helped him with his homework before dinner. Sometimes Cordelia picked him up if a girl needed tending to or nether if he stayed at a friends house. It was a Friday night, Ally allowed him to stay at his friend’s house for the night. If nothing to preoccupy your time, you decided to take a quick nap at your desk.

You woke up, the whole school was dark. You must have slept through dinner. You were sure Cordelia would have woken you, oh well, she probably got caught up with paperwork. You exited the medic bay, heading to the kitchen. You thought you would have run into one person on your way. You pulled out the fruit infused water jug from the fridge and poured yourself a glass. You took a huge gulp of it, you were thirsty. It took a moment for the taste to set in. Metallic? You looked down at your glass and it was red. You stopped yourself from spitting out right there, instead, you dashed to the sink. You emptied the glass and left it for someone to clean it up properly later. You wiped your mouth on the tear nearest tea-towel. On your way to find someone, you tossed the blood-stained tea-towel into the laundry.

Everyone must have been out, not a student insight. You were about to entire Cordelia’s office when you heard a familiar woman’s voice coming from upstairs. You release the handle, venturing up the curved staircase. The voice beckoned you closer. Then two. You stopped dead in front of Oz room. You hesitated.

Someone you never thought you were going to see again stood behind that door. If she was here, the others must be nearby. A small four years old sat on the ground looking through one of Oz’s comic books he left out. She was as she were before the world crumbled. You knelt down before the girl, she pointed to the comic book and asked you if you could read it to her.

“Only if you take me to your mother.”

“Story first.”

“Alright, but only one issue,” you gave in. You gave one look at the comic, the comic wasn’t appropriate for the four-year-old whatsoever. “I think this comic is too old your you.”

“But I’m four!”

“And I’m 31.”

“Your old~”

“Yeah, I bet you can’t even count to 31.”

“I can! Mommy taught me.” She began to count, only getting two out of order. You praised her once she finished. She grinned widely, showcasing her missing front tooth. Silence fell among the two. “My brother cries a lot.”

“You don’t have a-”

“Yeah, and a sister.”

“No, you don’t.”

You heard footsteps coming towards the room. You remained quiet much to the girl beside you’s displeasure. Your eyes locked on the door, waiting for the person to A, pass or B join the two of you.

Then it struck you, why was she in Oz’s room? You were about to ask here when a shadow blocked the little light from flooding into the room. The silhouette of someone, a woman, cradling something in their hands, a baby? You couldn’t tell as their body was shrouded in darkness.

You started at them blankly for what seemed like forever, when you heard voices calling your name, coaxing you back to them. They didn’t belong to the people in the room, so who did they belong too?

“Y/n? Who were you talking too?”

Your eyes fluttered closed, when they opened they were gone.

"Huh?" There was a hand rubbing on your shoulder and it didn't belong to the brunette in front of you. You turned your head to see your other girlfriend soothing you with the rhythmic motion. "What are you doing here? I didn't realise it was that late," this was directed at the brunette in front of you.

"Cordelia called me home earlier," Ally responded.

"I was worried," Cordelia added.

"Why? I didn't do anything wrong." You looked between the two of them confused.

“Of course you didn’t sweetie,” Cordelia reassured, pulling you into her lap. Ally looked at her disapprovingly, coddling you wasn’t helping any of you get to the bottom of this. She knew they couldn’t rush you, but there would reach a time where they would have to push and Ally knew she was going to have to be the bad guy, whether Cordelia joined her, well, that will only be told with time. Ally sighed and moved closer, closing the gap between the three of you. She brushed a few of the hairs on your face back, adding it to the section Cordelia was combing her hand through. When she moved her hand away, you reached out to hold it, playing with one of the rings on her fingers.

“We’re just concerned-”

“Some of the girls told me you were acting oldly, interrupted a class-”

��Not intentionally,” Ally interrupted.

“Not intentionally,” Cordelia repeated. “You wouldn’t respond to anyone… we found you talking to yourself.”

“What are you doing in Oz's room anyway? You know he’s not home.”

“Nothing, no reason. I’m fine.”

“We didn’t ask you if you were fine.”

“And everything is pointing to you not being. You know you can talk to us right?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“So why don’t you?”

“It’s nothing. Honestly guys, I’m fine, probably didn’t get enough sleep.”

“Okay,” they both said. They would really have to keep an eye on you now. You could be stubborn when you wanted to be. Neither of them could keep an eye on you 24/7, if it gets any worse, Cordelia may have to employ some of her girls to keep tabs on you. Last time, she was told you did it it was night, but today it was mid-afternoon. She knew if she told the other teachers and pupils like Mallory and Coco, they would inform her the second something odd happens. She hoped it wouldn’t go that far. She prayed that you would talk to them before it got to that. It would save you the embarrassment.

“I’ll take her to bed, you go and check on the girls. Assure them she’s fine,” Ally said to Cordelia as she lifted slightly you off the blonde. She helped you to stand, allowing you to lean heavily on her. You wrapped your arms around her and clung for dear life. You hadn’t realised how tired you were until you stood. You had a tendency to grow cuddly when tired which the both- mainly Ally loved.

You didn’t pay too much attention to her words. You buried your head in the crook of her neck trying to get closer to her. “Why are you so soft?” You mumbled out causing the woman still on the ground to chuckle. “How is this possible? Delia, feel how soft Al’s skin is.”

“Maybe another time,” Cordelia responded. A time when they were both awake and more lively.

“I should definitely take her to bed,” Ally laughed at your absurdity.

“Do you need any help darling?” Cordelia asked Ally.

“Yes please, love. I fear Y/N’s not going to last the trip.”

You yawned, shutting your eyes. Cordelia helped Ally move you to the bedroom. They eased you onto the bed, Ally went to get you two some more comfortable clothes while Cordelia stripped you of your day clothes. You whined, wanting her to leave you alone so you could go to sleep. She shushed you, took the clothes handed to her and dressed you in an oversized t-shirt and shorts. Behind Ally, in the walk-in closet, Ally removed her pants suit and dress in more casual clothing. When she got back to you, you were trying to convince Cordelia to join.

“I can’t sweetheart, I have work to do.” You groaned in annoyance. Ally scolded you for your reaction. Despite being peeved at her for telling you off you still cuddle into Ally when she laid down next to you. Cordelia leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She moved onto Ally, kissing her on the lips before sashaying towards the door.

Next Part :)

#ally mayfair richards x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #cordelia x reader #cordelia goode x reader

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redbokuto · 3 years

Text

Awaited Encounter~ part 4

Bokuto’s lips curled up to support the pencil he was trying to balance on them. My fingers gripped our textbook tightly, glaring at the childish college student. “Bokuto…” I mumbled with a tinge of annoyance.

Normally, his antics wouldn’t bother me but after several hours of studying, my emotions tend to get a bit loose. At this point all the words in the textbook looked the same. The sight made my head pulse, and my eyes burn.

Bokuto frowned at my tone, making the pencil fall from his lips. “Akashii! When am I going to use this in life!” The gray-haired boy complained. He leaned back in his chair, letting the tank top he wore stretch.

“Probably never.” I answered honestly. My eyes traveled across the table to where Bokuto sat. I tried not to stare at his exposed muscles now that he is wearing less clothing than usual. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have our study session at Bokuto’s apartment.

Kuro, Bokuto’s close friend and roommate, left us alone. I didn’t get to meet him; he was already gone by the time I arrived.

“Then why am I learning it!” Bokuto whined like a child. His head tilted back, showing more of his pale neck. My eyes wandered around Bokuto’s body with care. I took in as many features about him as possible before exhaling. “Let’s take a break.” I stated while closing the large textbook.

The sentence brought life to Bokuto. His head sprung back up and a grin grew on his lips. “Hey hey hey! How about some food? It’s late isn’t it, it’s almost 8.”

I watched as the energetic man bounced off his seat and headed towards the kitchen. His top moving with every step. I swear that shirt was made to take my attention.

The view of Bokuto’s broad back graced me as the tall man searched his cabinets. He has changed so much since those days. When we were kids, Bokuto was a little chubby with his round cheeks and baby fat. Looking back on it, he was adorable.

Now though, that has changed. I would not describe Bokuto’s appearance as adorable anymore. More like… mature and taunting…

“How about I make us something?” Bokuto suggested, taking ingredients out of his white fridge. Bokuto’s apartment is a lot cozier than mine. When you walk in, you are in the living room with a small kitchen attached. The floor is made of light brown wood and the walls are painted with a light beige.

You could tell when you first walk in that this was a boy’s apartment. There was no theme to the rooms from what I’ve seen so far. There was even random stuff on the floor. Like a wooden boat which Bokuto calls his ‘adventure time’. I can’t even begin to question that concept.

Even though the apartment was strange and messy, I couldn’t help but admire it. You could tell the people here made many good memories, unlike my apartment.

“You can cook?” I asked with the tilt of my head. Bokuto turned around and frowned, “why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because I am.” I answered before moving from the table to one of the reclining chairs. Another thing weird about this apartment was its organization. Their couch was not the center piece of furniture, it was moved to the side. In the center of the room stood two brown recline chairs.

“That’s mean Akashi! And don’t sit there, that’s Kuro’s. Sit in mine.” Bokuto gestured to the identical chair beside me. But they both look the same… why does it matter? I didn’t bother speaking my question out loud. Instead, I moved.

My back pushed against the soft cushion of the chair. It made me sigh subconsciously, “well we haven’t known each other for that long.” I said in a whisper. I couldn’t speak those words louder than that. Every time I think about me and Bokuto’s current situation, I grow an aching pain in my stomach.

It felt as if I was using him for my own benefit. So I would feel less anxious than usual. Bokuto calms my nerves without any effort. His warmth and presence are all it takes, maybe that’s why it’s so hard to let go of him again.

“Did you say something Akashi?” Bokuto questioned, turning his head towards me. My eyes looked up to meet his large smile, “no, nothing at all Bokuto.” I tried to give the man a smile, but my face stayed straight. Looks like the guilt from all those years ago is starting to take effect.

“Well, in order to make the thing I want to make, we need a few items.” Bokuto stated while walking towards me.

I sighed, “you don’t have to cook if you don’t want to-“

“I want to.” Bokuto interrupted. His bright eyes looked down at my dark ones. They held a sense of determination, which meant there was no use in trying to change his mind. “Would you like me to come with you?” My offer made those golden eyes sparkle. “Yes!”

Bokuto grabbed his jacket as we both left the apartment. My hands tucked into my dark jeans while Bokuto hummed to himself. It was silent except for Bokuto’s humming. The silence was calming and peaceful, it made me comfortable.

A bell jingled when Bokuto opened the front door to the convenience store. The store was bright with only a few other people crowded inside it. The girl at the cash-register looked up to see who came inside. Her eyes widened a bit when they met mine.

Why is she looking at me like that?-

“Akashi can you get some heavy cream? I can get everything else.” Bokuto’s voice shook my thoughts. I gave the gray-haired man a nod before walking around the store. Her eyes stayed on me with each step I took. The stare made me uneasy.

I don’t like people paying attention to me, it has always caused me anxiety. My breathing grew ragged as a lump formed in my throat. I turned the corner to hide in one of the empty isles. For some reason, that one stare made me panic.

Sliding down to the ground, I tried to calm myself. “It’s just one person, it’s just one person.” I whispered, gripping my forearm with closed eyes. An image from my past passed through my mind, making me bite my lip.

“Akashi?” Even with my eyes shut, I knew Bokuto was kneeling beside me. I kept my eyes closed while his golden orbs scanned my body. “Are you cold? Hurt? What’s wrong?” Bokuto asked as he placed his hand on my shoulder.

The touch made me flinch, “it’s nothing.” I squeezed out. Bokuto’s hand let go of my shoulder. I thought he was going to leave me alone, but I was wrong. The gray-haired man grunted as he took a seat next to me.

His shoulder pressed against mine, erasing any space between us. A sigh escaped his lips, “you don’t like attention.” The statement came as a shock to me. How did he know that? Has Bokuto been… observing me? He has only known me for two weeks, well that he knows of.

I peeked up to look at Bokuto. For once his face was neutral and his eyes were only focused on me. “Yes… I mean no? How did you know?” My voice was quiet for only Bokuto to hear.

“You give hints from time to time. Like when the teacher looks at you, you often squirm and look disgruntled in your seat. Or when we walk to school, when someone looks at you, you freeze up and hide behind me.” Bokuto started to chuckle at the thought. “You’re very adorable Akashi.”

My face warmed as my heart rate quickened. I didn’t try to say anything, knowing it would come out as slurred letters. Bokuto looked at my red face and gave me a small smile, “are you still nervous?”

“Did you only say that so I wouldn’t be?” I mumbled.

Bokuto’s grin grew, “nope.” He stood up and dusted off his pants. I watched as the gray-haired man stuck out his hand, “let’s go, Akashi.” His smile was as bright as the sun, I could never smile like that.

I took his hand and followed behind Bokuto. It has always been like this, me hiding behind Bokuto as if I was his shadow. When we were little, a lot of kids hated him for that reason. Bokuto didn’t make many friends because of his large presence. The other kids would say Bokuto hogs the spotlight. I never believed that to be true.

Being Bokuto’s shadow has never been easy. It means I have to help him stay in the spotlight. Whether it’s grades or motivation. When we were younger, Bokuto would often get discouraged and not want to try. I was the only person who could motivate him to try again.

Now, times have changed. Now Bokuto is motivating me to move, even as his shadow.

Bokuto put down his items in front of the female cashier. The woman tilted her head to look at me, noticing how I was hiding from her. “We would like to buy these.” Bokuto stated. He had on his normal smile, but his voice was lower than usual.

The woman snapped out of her thoughts and nodded to Bokuto. She scanned the food in front of her, taking a few glances at me as she did. I kept my eyes on the back of Bokuto’s head, “when did you learn how to cook?”

Bokuto tilted his face towards me, “well when I was young. My sisters made me, so it wasn’t my choice.” Bokuto laughed.

I almost forgot about Bokuto’s siblings. He as two older siblings, making Bokuto the baby of the family. Bokuto is the only man in the house since his father passed away when he was young.

“Can we talk about them during dinner?” I asked, keeping my focus on my long-lost best friend. Bokuto blinked a few times, “of course!”

The woman handed Bokuto two bags, “H-have a nice day!” The woman shouted as we left the store.

I sighed in relief once we left, which Bokuto picked up on. “You know she was only looking at you because she was interested in you, right?” His comment caught me off guard. My head shifted to meet his eyes, but Bokuto stayed looking ahead. His lips were pressed into a straight line as his golden eyes lingered on the stranger in front of him.

“W-what do you mean?” I question with a hint of nervousness.

“I mean you’re beautiful Akashi.” Bokuto tilted his head and looked at me. “And everyone knows it.”

The rest of the walk was silent. I was torn between blushing from Bokuto statement or over analyzing it. So, I did both in silence. My whole body felt so awkward, especially my face. It was warm and stung with embarrassment.

Everyone? What does he mean by everyone? I wasn’t aware of this! Does that mean… Bokuto think so too? Does Bokuto think I’m beautiful?

As a child I developed feelings for Bokuto, and I can tell that they were coming back. When we were younger, Bokuto felt the same way. It was adorable puppy love. But now, is different.

When we stepped inside the apartment, Bokuto began to cook. I watched as the man focused on what ingredients go where. He smiled at me when he realized I was staring, “My sisters love this dish. Though it is not the healthiest.” Bokuto said, making the plates.

He placed the bowl down in front of me. Steam rose in the air as the smell of fresh chicken filled my nose. The noodles looked creamy and well done, the sight almost made me drool. “Fettuccine Alfredo.” The words made my stomach growl as I uttered them.

Bokuto chuckled, “eat up!”

Both of us ate and Bokuto talked. He talked about both his sisters, Ai who is the eldest, and Megumin who is the second eldest. He talked about how scary Ai can be and how energetic Megumin can be. I have heard most of this information before, but I paid attention to every detail.

“Ai and Megumin have super important jobs!” Bokuto exclaimed with a proud grin.

“And what would those be?” I asked while putting my plates in the sink.

“Well they both work in law enforcement.” Bokuto answered. He trotted around his kitchen to put his dish away. I started washing the dishes as he continued. “They may or may not be in the FBI.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

“I said may not.”

“Yes, yes may not.” I nodded along.

“but they are!” Bokuto exclaimed. I could tell he is proud of his sisters and looks up to them. I found it cute.

After another half hour of talking, Bokuto walked me home. He talked more about his siblings, and I listened along. When we got to my apartment, Bokuto switched the subject. “I had fun Akashi, thank you for helping me study.” I wanted to mention that we didn’t do much studying, but Bokuto spoke again. “I know I can be a pain at times, and I don’t pay much attention.-“

“I had fun.” Bokuto froze from my words. He then grew wide eyed from my smile, “let’s do this again tomorrow, Bokuto.”

The gray-haired man stayed quiet and speechless. I bowed a bit before going inside my apartment and slowly closing the door.

Third pov

Bokuto walked back home, still slightly shocked from Akashi’s words. He had fun? Sometimes it’s hard to tell what Akashi is thinking and feeling. Often, Bokuto feels as if he annoys Akashi. But his smile, it was genuine.

It was not just Akashi’s words, but the rare smile that played on his lips when he said it. It made Bokuto freeze up without any warning.

He let the image dance around in his mind, making his own smile grow. When he walked into his apartment, he was greeted by a very familiar face. “Oh, hey Kuro.” Bokuto waved before placing his keys on the counter.

Kuro picked up his head with left over noodles hanging from his mouth. “Hey bro.” Kuro said, slurping up the noodles.

“How was Kenma’s?” Bokuto smirked, taking a seat in his reclining chair. Kuro rolled his eyes and continued eating his noodles. Once he swallowed, he spoke, “how was your date?”

Bokuto puffed out his cheeks, “it was not a date.” He claimed, crossing his arms over his chest. Once again Kuro rolled his eyes, “Kenma told me you’d say that.”

“What else did Kenma say to you?” Bokuto’s playful smirk appeared again as he patted his friend’s shoulder. Bokuto has been friends with Kuro since his first year of middle school. That is when his volleyball accident happened. “Nothing that concerns you.” Kuro bit back. He does not like where this conversation was going, so he switched the subject.

“What did you two do while I was gone? I hope nothing too messy.” Kuro observed the blush blooming on Bokuto’s cheeks with a smile. “Dirty minded as always.” The best friend shook his head in fake disappointment.

“I am not dirty minded! We just studied, maybe you should start.” Bokuto pouted.

Kuro put his hand over his heart and gasped, “I study!” Bokuto laughed at the statement, which made Kuro laugh as well. “So… what’s his name?” Kuro placed his plate on the ground and put all his attention on his best friend.

“His name is Akashi!” Bokuto said proudly. Kuro’s lips parted, but no words came out. His face stayed neutral as a lump formed in his throat. “How long have you known him?”

“A few weeks but we have grown close! He might take your spot as my best friend!” Bokuto laughed. Kuro didn’t laugh though, he looked away from Bokuto and gave a bitter smile. “Yeah well, you never know.”

All these chapters can be found on Wattpad under the user zayinmorzin

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yoontopia · 4 years

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𝟯𝟮. “𝗜𝘁 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂” | 𝗷𝗷𝗸

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader; genre: fluff, sort of idol!verse; words: 2.8k

warnings: none ; rating: G

Part of the ‘100 Ways to say I Love you’ drabbles

author’s note: had to throw the long hair and tattoos in there, i couldn’t stop myself

You lay in bed staring blankly up at the ceiling, head void of thoughts. You could smell the barbecued meat despite your closed bedroom door, the deliciousness wafting in and making your stomach grumble. You know you need to get dressed and head downstairs soon, but the exhaustion from the past week is settling in and you cannot bear to move.

You hear your mother calling for you and you shout back in response that yes! you’re coming, for the guests will start arriving soon. Being back home after almost five years of being away at university halfway across the world had your parents throwing a very informal barbecue for the neighbours living on your street. It had been about a week since your return and your parents had been so excited that they had been treating you like a prized possession. You wondered how long this treatment would last, before your mom would start shouting at you to carry out your shares of household chores.

Sitting up in your bed, you looked around your bedroom. You had grown up here, spent your childhood and teen years here, but had moved away at the ripe age of eighteen, and never looked back. Your room, therefore, had remained immortalized, peeling posters of whatever rock bands you’d been obsessed with stuck on the wall. A small desk stood under the window, stacked with your old textbooks, the wall next to it covered with taped photographs of you, your family, and your childhood friends.

Smiling slightly to yourself you got out of the bed and made your way to the photo wall, looking at each picture carefully. Most of the photos were of you and your best friend Jooyoung, who had moved away for university herself. While the two of you had headed your separate ways after high school, you’d kept in touch, often video calling each other and giving out life updates. Jooyoung, in your opinion, was your soulmate, someone who’d been there for you since day one, who knew you inside and out. You missed her terribly and were almost sad that she wouldn’t be here today. Unlike you, however, Jooyoung visited home often, attending university a mere three-hour drive away.

Your eyes travelled to the other photos, some of you with your parents, of your old cat whom you terribly missed, until your eyes landed on one particular picture, which had been crinkled with time. It was a photo of you and Jooyoung at a lemonade stand out on your driveway, accompanied by a skinny boy with a mop of dark hair falling over his forehead. You frowned slightly staring at the boy’s face, memories flooding in. That’s right, Jooyoung and you were part of an inseparable trio during your school years, the third leg of which was made up by one Jeon Jungkook. Nerdy and geeky and video-game obsessed, Jungkook had lived across the street from you and you and he had spent many years being attached at the hip. This was, however, one of the only photos you had left of him.

At the ripe young age of fifteen, Jungkook had moved to Seoul on his own, having been scouted by some entertainment company. You remembered laughing at him with Jooyoung when he’d told you what had happened and had warned him that he was about to get scammed. But it hadn’t been a scam, and Jungkook had moved to Seoul and you’d never heard from him again. His emails had dwindled after a while, and once you’d moved away and gotten busy with your own life, you’d forgotten all about him. Your mother would occasionally give you updates over phone calls that he’d been training to be put into a group, that he’d debuted, that his group had gathered decent popularity in the country. Your mother had spoken with quiet pride, talking about Jungkook as though he was her own son. It made sense, you supposed, he’d been quite close with your parents, just like you’d been close with his.

You’d left Korea around the time he’d debuted and had never bothered to check his group out, partly due to not wanting unwanted memories to return. Jungkook had all but cut you and Jooyoung from his life and you needed no reminders of that fact. Their international popularity wasn’t very high, but if your mother was right, everybody in Korea with a working internet connection knew who they were. You supposed it was a flex, being a childhood friend to someone sort-of famous, but you doubted famous idol Jeon Jungkook even remembered you. You wondered if you’d even recognize him now, some seven years later. He was probably rich, and you were a struggling unemployed graduate moving back home to start your job search. Two completely different worlds. However, in your small, sleepy town full of fishermen and farmers, even famous Jeon Jungkook would have a hard time being recognized. This place was literally filled to the brim with the elderly.

Your mom calls for you again and you yell back that you’re coming. Walking over to your dresser you changed out of your sweatpants into jeans and a striped sweater. Shoving your feet into your bedroom slippers you took a deep breath before heading downstairs, pulling your bedroom door shut behind you.

You padded downstairs and joined your mother in the kitchen where she was busy setting plates.

“Need help?” you asked. Your mom smiled at you and handed you a bag of cutlery.

“Please put these out,” she said. “Forks in one cup knives in one cup.” You nodded and sat down on a stool near the kitchen island and began sorting the cutlery.

People were beginning to arrive, and you could hear them greeting your father who was busy cooking up a feast in the front yard barbecue.

“Where’s Seungwoon?” you asked, wondering where your little brother had gone off to. Your mother looked at the clock near the stove.

“I sent him to get some extra drinks. You kids will need drinks,” she let out a soft laugh. “I keep forgetting you kids are all basically adults now. I stocked juice yesterday, but I realized you’d probably need alcohol too, so I sent him to buy some.”

“You sent an eighteen-year-old kid on a booze run?” you snorted, and your mother laughed along.

“He was eager, so I put him up to it.” She said and you laughed. It felt nice, being back home, hearing your mother’s laugh in person.

“How many people did you invite anyway?” you asked, leaning to look outside. It was a bright sunny day, the sweltering August heat shining through the kitchen window.

“Not too many,” she said, putting some bread in the oven to warm. “The Sungs’ next door, Sooyeon and her husband are coming, although Jooyoung isn’t home, I’m afraid,” she looked over at you apologetically and you sighed. “She’s interning and working through the summer and couldn’t get the weekend off. They work her to the bone, but she really sticks to it. Let’s see… a couple more families that you probably don’t know, they’re new on the street, moved in three or so years ago. They don’t have any kids.”

“So there is nobody my age!” you said in surprise. “Seungwoon didn’t need to go get alcohol just for me and him mom, I can drink the juice.” Your mom laughed at your outburst and looked at you, hands on her hips.

“They Jeons’ are coming, and they have two fully grown kids who will need to be fed and watered,” You stopped sorting forks and looked up in mild shock. Your mom smiled knowingly. “Junghyun’s back for the weekend and I believe so is Jungkook,” she sighed as she said that. “Boy he must be a true Seoul child now – I wonder if our cheap countryside liquor and food is up to his current tastes, I haven’t seen him for years, unless its on TV of course.”

“So, you just want everything perfect because we’re having a minor celebrity over?” you asked glumly.

“Can you blame me?” she exclaimed. “You’ll see what I mean when they come, he’s different. People from Seoul are just different. I bet he drinks some fancy overseas brand of beer.”

“He’s not from Seoul,” you snapped. “He’s from here and if he looks down his fat nose at our country bumpkin ways, I’ll sit on him like I used to.”

“I’d like to see you try,” your mother grinned. “He’s had his growth spurts while yours seem to have forgotten you.”

“I’m short because grandma is short!” You exclaimed, but only half annoyed. Your mother laughed again and changed topics. The rest of the time was spent in you setting out plates in a pile and mixing the dressing into the salad and bringing out the napkins for people to grab. Your brother returned shortly after, and you helped him unload the soju and beer into the fridge. Then you resumed your seat at the kitchen island, scrolling through your phone while your mother had you taste everything to make sure it was edible.

“Stop fussing mom,” you said, at last. “Everything tastes good, and dad’s barbecue ribs are always a hit.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just excited you’re back,” she sighed. “It’s nice to have some help in the kitchen like this, just us girls.” The two of you shared a smile. Just then, the doorbell rang. Your brother opened the door. You turned to see who it was, and a smile split on your face.

Jungkook’s mother came in first, holding a bottle of wine that she put down next to you. She gave you a big smile and you let out a little squeal and jumped up to give her a hug.

“Oh my! You have grown so much!” she said laughing, pulling you in for another hug. The two of you were so busy catching up that you almost didn’t notice a tall figure entering after his mother. When you looked up, you finally saw him, and you had to exercise great control to stop your jaw from hitting the floor.

Because right there, talking quietly in the entrance to your house to your little brother, was Jeon Jungkook. You wouldn’t have recognized him off the street. He was tall, broad, wearing a well fitted black sweatshirt and black jeans that were ripped at the knees. A pair of expensive sunglasses were tucked into the front of his sweater. His hair was long, falling into his eyes, and curling around his ears, which had been pierced in multiple places. The silver of his hooped earrings shown every time he moved his head. You blinked – was that a tattoo peaking up from his sweater and curling around his neck?

Forcing yourself to turn your attention back to Mrs. Jeon, you laughed awkwardly at whatever she had been saying, only hearing half of it. Suddenly feeling small and awkward, you turned back to your phone and buried yourself in it. Jeon Jungkook had gone out and come back looking like a walking magazine cover and you still looked like you did at fifteen, only now with two degrees to your name. You tried to tune everything out as you scrolled twitter, hoping that you’d suddenly become invisible to everyone around you.

“Guk!” his mother called affectionately, and you bit your tongue trying not to curse out loud. “Look who’s here!” You heard him walk over, could smell the faint cologne as he approached his mother.

A soft voice said your name in mild surprise, and your chest constricted because you hardly recognized his voice either, which had deepened in the last seven years. You locked your phone hesitantly and turned in his direction, trying to meet his eyes.

Round brown eyes blinked back at you, containing the surprise that his voice also held. You gave him a small smile in greeting.

“Hey Jungkook, how’ve you been?” you asked, hating how meek your voice sounded.

“Kids, go upstairs,” your mom said from her spot at the stove, not bothering to even look up. You suspected she felt as small in Jungkook’s presence as you did. You sighed and got off your seat slowly and beckoned for Jungkook to follow you. He did.

Once in your room, you sat down on your bed and Jungkook awkwardly took a seat at your desk chair.

“So,” you started, letting the word drag out. “A singer, huh?”

The tips of his ears went red, to your surprise. You’d expected confidence, even cockiness. He rubbed the back of his neck almost shyly.

“You know?” he asked. You shrugged.

“My mom’s a fan,” you said truthfully, snorting. “I’ll be honest though; I’ve never checked out your music.”

“Ouch,” he said, and to your surprise, a look of genuine hurt crossed his face. But you blinked and it was gone. “How are you?”

“M’fine,” you said slowly. “It’s weird being back, but I’m getting used to it. I’m done university and now I gotta job hunt y’know.”

“Right,” he said, sounding impressed, and you didn’t know why. “What was your degree in?”

“Dual major in biochemistry and pharmaceuticals,” you said. His mouth opened and he looked genuinely stupefied.

“Woah that’s like, cool,” He said, and you let out a small laugh because he sounded genuine. “So, you’re like an academic.”

“Kinda?” you said. “It doesn’t feel any different though. I’m unemployed for now.”

“I always pictured you doing well at school and stuff,” he said, still sounding awed. “It’s a good look.”

“A good look?”

“Dunno, science? It’s a good look, it suits you. It looks good on you.” You blinked. Nobody had put it that way before.

“What? That’s such a weird thing to say,” you said huffing out a laugh. The tips of Jungkook’s ears went even redder.

“I’m just saying I always pictured you being successful,” he said softly. You frowned.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked. He looked at you, head tilting in a heartbreakingly familiar way. “Who’s the more successful person in this room right now? Aren’t you like, a millionaire?”

“I only finished high school!” he told you and you gaped at him. “I never got to go to university, so I think it’s cool that you got out of here and did all that all on your own.” His sentence ended in a mumble. The two of you sat there in silence after that.

“Was it hard?” you asked after a while. He looked up at you in question. “Was it hard giving it all up?”

“Yeah… I guess,” he said. “But what part of life isn’t hard?”

“Was it worth it?”

“Yeah,” he said and this time there was no hesitation, which had you smiling. “I did miss all my friends though.”

“Like me,” you joked

“Like you.” He said simply, and the smile slipped from your face.

“You stopped keeping in touch,” you whispered.

“Keeping in touch made me sad,” he said quietly. “I was homesick a lot back then, and all I wanted to do was run away and be able to go to school with everyone again. Your emails and updates made me sad and homesick.”

“I’m sorry that’s not what I—” you started but he cut you off with a knowing smile.

“I know, but to a fifteen-year-old it felt like the end of the world.” You stared at him.

“Yes, but now you’re like… you,” you said at last, finally letting yourself sound impressed. “Don’t you have a gaggle of fangirls throwing themselves at you? I swear that’s what happens to good looking famous boys.”

“You think I’m good looking?” he asked, his bashful expression disappearing replaced by a small smirk. You swallowed but decided to play nonchalant.

“Have you looked at you?” you gestured at him and his smirk widened.

“You’re still so cute,” he said simply. Your cheeks suddenly felt a tad too warm. You were about to ask him what he meant by ‘still’ when you heard your mom calling you both down for drinks. You stood up.

“C’mon,” you said and walked to the door. When you looked back you saw Jungkook still stood near your desk, staring at the photos taped to the wall, a small smile playing on his face, his hand on a certain crinkled picture. “Guk.” The nickname slipped out accidentally.

He looked over at you, and you tried not to blush under his gaze. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this man was the same boy who beat your brother at every video game and who you used to sit on when he annoyed you and who you and Jooyoung had bribed into putting on a full face of his mother’s makeup at thirteen. But as he approached you, you couldn’t help but feeling that maybe he hadn’t changed all that much after all.

“Let’s go I’m hungry,” he said. “Hey, do you guys have any juice?”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed.

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #bts fanfic #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jjk #writing #jjk drabbles

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atiny-orbit1219 · 4 years

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Body Waves

Idol: Wong Yukhei/Lucas from NCT

Prompt: Whenever your mom is too busy with work you’re left taking your little sister to her dance lessons. I’m the midst of being stressed from finals your mom asked you to take your sister to dance. It was safe to say you weren’t happy but you did it anyway. The normal instructor is on leave and taking her place temporarily is her dangerously handsome nephew, Lucas. You find yourself immediately falling for the adorable boy so what are you going to do when he asks if you’d like a private lesson?

Warnings: suggestive?? I don’t know.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You peel the sticky note from the fridge and immediately groan. It was difficult to read your mother’s scratchy writing but you could tell what it said at one glance. “Working late tonight. Take your sister to her dance class please.” You mumble. Normally this wouldn’t be such an issue but finals week is approaching and the time spent watching your little sister twirl around clumsily could be used studying instead. Of course though, you were going to do it. There is no use in arguing with your mother. You’ll just bring your textbooks and do what you can.

After a quick breakfast you were out of the house and off to your college campus to have a day full of iced coffee, tears, and study guides. No one ever told you college was like this, the movies made it seem like two semesters of non stop partying and drinking but so far it's only been non stop crying and stressing. “Hey Y/N! You coming to the library with us? We’re gonna go over the study guide together.” you let out a soft sigh and shake your head. “Can’t… I’d love to but I have to take my littler sister to her dance lesson right after class.” You whine, pulling your bag over your shoulder as your friends give you looks of sympathy.

You head to the parking lot, test questions and answers running through your mind at full speed. You were too busy thinking you almost walked past your car. You groan to yourself, frustrated at how things are playing out. You take a few steps backwards and enter your car, going to pick up your sister from school. Within minutes you arrived at the junior high and watched as your sister jogged over to you and slid into the passenger side.

“The new dance instructor is starting today!” Your sister said excitedly, you two were chatting about your days to pass time and she just remembered that the temporary replacement instructor’s first day is today. The regular instructor is busy birthing a child so her nephew is taking over as he is on holiday from some pretentious dance school in The city. You nod at your sister’s words, your fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “I wonder what he’ll teach you guys.” I hum, curious to how this new guy was gonna handle ten little girls at once. At least now you’ll have some entertainment in the background while you study.

You and your sister were the last to walk through the glass doors of the dance studio, but luckily you weren’t late. You noticed the normal group of moms all huddled, whispering to each other and pointing to the door that led to one of the dance rooms. You of course just figured they were gossiping about something or someone.. typical dance moms.

You follow your sister and the rest of the group into the studio once it was time for the lesson to start. Your head was already buried in the textbook, your eyes scanning the pages as the path to the seats was muscle memory at this point. Except... they weren’t there. Instead a stereo has taken their place. You didn’t notice until it was too late. You tripped on one of the wires, your stomach dropping from fear and surprise as you saw the ground approaching, your textbook falling from your hands as you attempted to catch yourself. You closed your eyes, awaiting your fate to hit the hardwood floor… yet the impact never came. You felt a hand wrap around your arm and pull you against what felt like a brick wall but you soon found out it was your savior’s chest. You gasp in shock as he speaks. “You should really pay attention to where you’re walking.” His voice was lighthearted and his smile was blinding as he looked down at you.

You had to blink a few times to make sure this was real. You looked up at him, his tan face, gorgeous smile, beautiful brown eyes, and perfect hair… there’s no possible way someone this good looking was standing this close to you. “Oh! Well uh- you know- t-the chairs! They’re usually here.” You stutter like a complete idiot as all knowledge of basic human functions leaves your brain to make room for every little detail of him to be sealed in your mind forever. He just laughs and you swear it was the sound you hear as you enter Heaven’s gates. “Sorry.. I moved them to the other side to match my studio back at home.., it was a bit confusing.” He explains and you could only dumbly nod along.

He finally lets you go and reaches down, grabbing your textbook from the floor and holding it out for you. “Oh.. I heard this class is brutal.. good luck!” He says with a charming smile. You reach out, grasping the book tightly as you let out a small laugh. “Thank you! And yeah it’s a bit tough.. but probably not as tough as teaching these girls so good luck to you as well.” You hum before turning around to take a seat with all the other moms. Your heart was racing a mile a minute, your cheeks still red from the encounter as you pretended to read the book while you actually listened to the stranger introduce himself.

“Hello! My name is Lucas!” He said, his deep voice filling the room causing you to almost melt into the chair. “My aunt is currently on maternity leave so that means you're stuck with me for a few months.” He joked. The girls laughed as he continued. “Your teacher gave me your recital song and I have free reign on choreography so let’s make this something no ones ever seen before yeah?” Lucas smiles his heart stopping smile before leading the girls through stretches.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. No matter how hard you tried you always found yourself staring at his body while he taught. Every now and then he’d feel your eyes and turn to look at you, which you would quickly look down at the book in your lap. This boy had you and the other moms wrapped around his finger. All they talked about was how good looking he was and how taking off their wedding rings sounded like a great idea at the moment.

The hour passed by in what felt like minutes and soon it was time to go. You bite your lip, waving a goodbye to Lucas before gathering your sister and going home.

The next few weeks you practically begged your mom to let you take your sister to dance class. Finals were over and now you could let yourself become completely infatuated with Lucas. The previous week he asked you how your test had gone and you felt your knees go weak. He remembered!! You could almost squeal at how happy it made you. You knew you were acting like a middle school girl with a crush but you couldn’t help it.. Lucas is hands down the best looking man you’ve ever seen and he’s also caring, funny, sweet and just… perfect.

After another hour of watching Lucas magically keep the attention of the girls, the class came to an end and like every other day you go to wave goodbye and collect your sister so you two could drive home and you can rant about just how gorgeous Lucas looked today.

“Hey! Y/n!” You were stopped in your tracks as Lucas jogged over to you. You turn around to face him, your heart skipping a beat just from the close proximity. “Oh hey Lucas! Did my sister leave her shoes again because I swear I’m gonna start glueing them to her feet.” You pout and Lucas can only smile. “No not this time… Although your sister did tell me you were interested in dancing.” Your eyes went wide at his words. “Did she now?” You ask cluelessly, your gaze shifting to your sister giving you a thumbs up and a cheeky smile from behind Lucas’s back. This little brat- “If you’d like I can give you a few… private lessons?” Lucas offered. Scratch that, your sister is an angel and you will definitely get her ice cream on the way home. “Really? You’d do that?” You ask, a blush forming at the idea of being alone with Lucas. “Yeah! I need the teaching experience and my aunt gave me the keys to the studio… so maybe you can come by Friday night after close?” He asked with a shy smile which you returned. “Okay! Sounds great! I’ll see you then.. I guess.” You say nervously and Lucas nods. “See you then.”

As Friday night finally comes you find yourself panicked. “What do I wear? What do I say? You put me in this mess! Help me!” You order your sister who just laid on your bed to watch the chaos unfold. “Wear the one black tank top with your leggings, black is so your sweat stains don’t show.” She says calmly. “You’re a genius.” You say as you gather the outfit and get dressed. “Hair up or down?” You ask for advice once more. “Wear it down then before the lesson starts put it up while he’s watching… guys like that.” You nod, putting the hair tie on your wrist for later. “How do I look?” You wait for your final evaluation as your sister stands up to get a closer look. She lifts your arm, takes a sniff, then hums in approval. “You’re ready my young grasshopper.” You shove her shoulder but smile anyways. “I’m ready…” you say softly before grabbing your keys and purse before heading to the studio.

You see Lucas’s car already in the parking lot as you take a deep breath. He’s just a guy teaching you a few dance steps.. you repeat this as you enter the building. You find Lucas in the studio and he smiles as you walk in. “Hey.” He said softly. “Hi.” You reply. “I went ahead and picked the song and choreographed everything.” You were surprised at how prepared he was and it only made you fall further for him. “Just so you know I have two left feet and no rhythm.” You exaggerate and Lucas laughs. “I’m sure that’s not true… plus… you have me to guide you.” You blush at his comment but nod your head.

You remember the hair tie on your wrist and gulp nervously before bringing your hands up to your hair. You could feel Lucas’s eyes on you as you gather the strands into a low ponytail. After he knew he was caught staring he just cleared his throat and walked over to the middle of the dance floor. “Okay.. you ready?” He asked. You walked over to his side, “ready.”

You were not expecting the choreo to be this touchy. Once Lucas started showing you the moves and you felt his large hands on your waist you almost lost the ability to function. You somehow managed to keep up with him though as he instructed you on how to move your body with his. Soon you were ready to dance with the music. The low base filled the room as you immerse yourself into the dance so you wouldn’t focus on your body pressed against Lucas’s. There was one move where your back was pressed against Lucas’s chest and you swayed your hips against him. While learning the move you were careful about leaving some space between you two but you decide to take the risk as you grow drunk on Lucas’s touch. He noticed your change in confidence and couldn’t help but smile but that smile soon faltered. He choreographed this dance.. he should’ve known better than putting in a move where you are literally just grinding on him.

Lucas tried to continue to the next move where he turned you around to face him and he stopped there, the dance long forgotten as you give him a confused look. “Why did you st-“ Lucas leaned down, cupping your face with both hands and captured your lips with his. You didn’t hesitate and kissed him back, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck as he pulled you closer, his lips moving expertly against yours. You’ve dreamt this moment over and over again but you never thought it would feel this good. Your whole body felt like it was on fire as Lucas slowly pulled away, a small smile on his face. You smiled back, an unspoken understanding flooding both of you as you jumped up into his arms. He catches you effortlessly and your lips are on his again.

You kissed until you felt lightheaded from lack of oxygen, your back pressed against the cold glass of the mirror as you studied Lucas’s face from up close. His messy hair from your hands, his swollen lips from your kiss, his eyes full of admiration for you.. your mark was on him and even though you couldn’t see yourself you’re sure his was on you too. And if not it sure was gonna be as his lips traveled to your neck. You were never going to complain about taking your sister to dance class again.

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waterloou · 4 years

Text

For @riverdalebingo ‘s bingo, coffee shop au

And because I love @s-s-southsideserpentine ‘s oc ruthie and my oc Romeo together I decided why not.

Fair warning: the only thing canon or riverdale about this fic is the town, the Fogarty last name, and the mention of sweet pea. Everything else is not canon. ✨

Fandom: riverdale

Word count: 3142

Pairing: OC X OC

Rating: T (mentions of drinking and smoking)

Romeo Fogarty sighed as he opened up the coffee shop. His boss, Irene, had gone on vacation and left him in charge in the mornings. It wasn’t a big job. His first customer was there as soon as he unlocked the doors, arms stacked with books, backpack bulging, hair mussed and eyes carrying dark circles beneath.

He offered to help her, but she politely declined, dumping her items on the corner table, and approaching the front, eyeing the confections.

“What’ll it be today?” He asked after a few moments. She looked up, slightly startled.

“Uh, chocolate chip bagel? With the largest cup of coffee you have.” She pulled out a few bucks.

He chuckled, “coming right up. Any particular kind of coffee?”

“Surprise me.”

“Alright then. Here’s your total, I’ll bring it to you when it’s done.” She handed him the total and he gave her change, their fingers lightly brushing.

“Thanks” She pocketed the change and went to sit down.

“You look familiar”

“I guess it’s one of those faces.”

“I’ve definitely seen you somewhere. You know the Fogartys?”

“Yeah” she looked at him cautiously, “I’m friends with Dante.”

“Ohhh,” He chuckled, “Ruthie, I remember.”

“Yeah…?”

“I’m his cousin, Romeo. We met a bit ago, not too sure you’d remember.” her shoulders relaxed.

“Oh, I’ve heard about you…”

“Cool…” there was an awkward pause, before the two went back to their tasks. He had remembered Dante complaining about how his coffee always had cinnamon in it.

He added a dash of creamer and sprinkled some cinnamon on top. He plated it with the bagel, cream cheese in a side cup, and set it in front of her.

“Thanks” She took a sip, eyes widening as she looked down at her coffee, “cinnamon?” He shrugged, and walked back to the counter. As the day went on, she stayed at the table, growing more stressed as she mulled over her stacks of work.

Other customers filtered in and out, the shop experiencing different levels of crowdedness.

During low foot traffic, he took his break, grabbing two mugs of coffee and a spare bagel from the cabinet. He dropped them both at her table, “on the house”

“Oh no I couldn’t-“

“On the house” he gave a slight wave, bringing his cup to his lips as he walked outside, soaking up the mid afternoon sun.

Dante Fogarty showed up a few minutes later, nodding a greeting at his cousin, before he entered the store.

The taller man sat down across from his friend, tapping his fingers on the table, “Hey mamas “ he smiled. Ruthie looked up and a wide grin spread across her face.

“You fucker, didn’t tell me you were coming down” she punched his arm lightly.

“I wanted to surprise you. Sweets said school was rough on ya. Gotta check on Fangs anyways.”

“How’d you figure out where I was?”

“Sweets and Romeo said you were here”

“Romeo?” She looked outside,”oh yeah, him”

“You’ve definitely met him before, but you were also definitely high”

Ruthie’s eyes widened, “oh no”

“Oh yes” he chuckled, “it was a wild night”

“Oh god” she ran her hand over her face and groaned. Dante reached for her bagel and took a bite.

“Hey!”

“I haven’t eaten-“

“Get your own-“ he grabbed her coffee and took a sip, before making a disgusted face, “oh fuck why do you like cinnamon in this shit?” He set it back down, taking another bite of her bagel. She yanked it out of his hand and stuffed half of it in her mouth.

“You look ridiculous”

“You shouldn’t steal my food then” she garbled through her full mouth and flipped him off.

“I come here to surprise my best friend and this is the treatment I get?” He raised a brow at her.

“Tomorrow. I’ll hang out tomorrow. I’d love to see you but I need to study. Exams are next week”

“Take a break”

“No, I already have sweets at the Abrejos, my job isn’t until later tonight-“

“Ruthless” he rested a hand on her notes, “take a break”

“You’re not gonna let me get any work done are you-DANTE” he took her computer and a textbook and rushed out the door. She hurriedly shoved her papers in her bag and ran out after him, cussing him out as he laughed.

Romeo watched the two as they grew smaller and smaller, chuckling to himself, before he headed in.

At her table, rested her computer charger, and a few pens and papers. He gathered them up and placed them in his bag. Hopefully she’d come back or he’d just give them to Dante that night.

The next morning, Ruthie came in, looking a little more exhausted than she did the day before, dressed in ripped jeans and an overly large sweatshirt that nearly engulfed her frame.

“You catch Dante?” He asked, getting her bagel and coffee ready.

“Eventually. Man has fuckin stilts for legs. I’ll have-“ he held up his hand.

“Chocolate chip bagel and cinnamon coffee?? Hazelnut creamer?” He paused, “Dante told me how you like it. It’s on the house” he placed them in her hands, their fingers brushing against each other again. His fingers felt all tingly and warm as he pulled them back, a small smile sliding onto his face.

“Thanks” she went back to her table and brought her laptop out. She looked at the food hesitantly, and sniffed the bagel.

“Dante hasn’t been putting you up to this, has he?”

“Why would he make me do his dirty work?” He chuckled, “he’d much rather do that himself”

She nodded, and took a bite.

He reached into his bag and took out what she’d left yesterday.

He placed them on the table in front of her and sat across from her.

“Thanks. Again.”

“It’s nothing. Do you need any help? With anything?” She looked up, her gaze cautious.

“Uh.” She looked at her notes, and then back at him.

“I’m ok” he nodded, and got up.

“I’ll let you know, though”

Ruthie ran her hand through her hair for what felt like the hundredth time during the hour, her brain feeling like static and not absorbing anything. She sighed, and closed her textbook, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

A loud laugh rang through the coffee shop, and Angel Abrejo entered through the door, bumping elbows with Romeo.

Romeo did have a nice smile, and kind eyes, she thought, her eyes lingering on him. He seemed like a nice guy, she rested her chin on her hand.

He made eye contact, and waved, she waved back, and went back to staring blankly at her computer.

Soon, someone sat across from her. She looked up to see him.

“Hey”

He folded his hands together, her eyes resting on them.

“You ok? You seem a little stressed”

“Uh, Yeah, Just. Exams. You know, stressful.”

“Need a break? I was gonna head over to Ignacio’s. Angel can watch your stuff” he nodded to the shorter man waiting for his coffee.

“Uh,” she thought for a moment, “you know what? Sure, that sounds great”

“Awesome” he flashed her a grin before going over to talk to angel, who waved at her.

The two walked down the road, the cold biting at Ruthie’s nose. She shivered and pulled her jacket closer around her. Romeo’s fingers fiddled at the ends of his jacket as he glanced over at her every once in a while.

As they walked into the bodega, they were greeted with a rush of warm air and loud mariachi music.

“Hola Ignacio!”

“Hola! Ah! Romeo!” The small, old man greeted jovially from the front desk. “Aye! Ruthie! Que tal?”

“Good! And you!”

“Bien!” He smiled.

“On me” Romeo whispered, “choose whatever you like”

“I couldn’t-“

“I gotchu, don’t worry bout it” he winked, before heading to the cold section. Ruthie looked around, and grabbed the gummy colas next to her.

Romeo moved past her, jarrito in hand, and grabbed a bag of salt and vinegar chips. She headed to the fridge section and took one of the orange jarritos before heading to the front.

“You ready?” Romeo called, walking up to her.

“Yeah”

“Cool.”

Ignacio smiled and rang them up, slipping Romeo pack of slims ‘for Maria’

“Ignacio, she not into you”

“I just want to treat the woman right!”

“Keep these.” He slid them back

“Aye! I’ll ask CD”

“She’s not gonna accept them from him” he chuckled, taking the bag, “adios!”

The older man grumbled, snatching the pack back.

“How long has he been in love with Maria?” Ruthie asked as they left, uncapping her soda, “a decade now?”

“Dante reckons it’s been longer” he took a long gulp of his soda.

“Yeah” she watched as the condensation of the bottle trickled over the tips of his fingers.

“You like cola candies, huh?” He asked, handing her the bag.

“Yeah” she ripped it open and popped one in her mouth, “shits good.”

“You know, I’ve never tried one.”

“Oh you’ve got to!” She pulled one out and placed it in her hand, her hands tingling after she pulled away.

He chewed it thoughtfully.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Not too bad,” he smiled at her, “definitely fitting”

“How?”

“Unexpected, but nice. Really nice”

They walked back to the coffee shop, this time, taking the longer route. Conversation flowed easier and Ruthie found herself grinning so wide she thought her cheeks would split.

“Man, wish you’d been at more Fogarty parties” she laughed.

“You and me both. Last one wasn’t too bad…”

“Dante told me. I’m so sorry that was your first impression-“

“Nah, you were a great addition to the party. How could I forget that laugh?” He chuckled

“Oh god I probably sounded maniacal”

“It was much needed. The boys were too quiet.”

They got to the shop and he opened the door for her.

Angel was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee and typing something on his phone.

“Aye!” He looked up.

“Finally you’re here. Did you get lost?”

“Distracted”

“Sure, aight” he got up.

“Thanks”

“Nothin to it” he bumped Ruthie’s arm lightly and raised his brows at Romeo. Romeo just shrugged and ruffled his hair.

“Aye! Watch the hair” Angel smacked his hand away and walked out, not before throwing a mock rude gesture, which Romeo discreetly returned back.

“Just lemme know if you need anything, aight?”

Ruthie nodded, “will do”

Ruthie was first at the shop the next day, her coffee and food sitting out for her.

“On the house” Romeo waved her hand away as she tried to give him the total.

“You’re not gonna let me pay again, are you?”

“Any friend of Dante is a friend of mine” he shrugged, “also, new blend, something Irene wanted to try, thought you’d like it” he winked, and went back to setting up the cases.

By the late afternoon, Ruthie was asleep at her table, head resting across an arm that had gone numb awhile ago, hand hanging off the table, and hair everywhere. She felt a light tap on her hand and jolted awake, to see Romeo sitting across from her, orange soda and cola gummies in hand.

“Hmm?” She sat up, her arm feeling tingly as it regained feeling, and her hair sticking to parts of her face via dried drool. She wiped her mouth with a spare napkin and looked over to Romeo, who seemed to be watching her fondly.

“I’ve been informed to tell you you’ve been invited to a Fogarty family dinner, minus abuela and my dad.”

“When is it?” She yawned, scratching her head.

“In about two hours, but you know how busy it’s gonna get” he laughed, setting the snacks down.

“I’ll walk you there. I’ll even carry your books.”

She chuckled, “What a gentleman”

“I try”

On the short walk to the Fogarty house, he shouldered her bag, making light, fun conversation up until they approached the door.

A little girl came running out and hugged her around the legs.

“Daisy!” She lifted the girl up and kissed her cheek.

Dante was out soon after, holding out his arms. Ruthie went to give him a hug, but he plucked his niece out of her grasp.

“You get to see her all the time” she sighed, exasperated as he cradled the little girl to his chest, kissing her hair.

“Daisy likes me best, right daisy?”

“RUTHLESS” she stretched her arms out.

“Aha!” Ruthie took her back, and propped her on her hip, sticking her tongue out at her best friend.

“Is that Ruthie?!” A loud noise came from inside, before a man came rushing out and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

“Hey CD!”

“SQUISH!” Daisy whined

“Romulus if you crush my niece-“ Dante started, before the man backed off.

“Aight aight, no need to pull out the full name”

Romeo snickered.

“Eyyy Romeo!” CD gave him a quick hug before aiming a punch at Dante’s arm and running to hide behind a tired looking Spyder, standing at the door. He nodded his head at Ruthie and she mimicked him, earning a small smile, before he pushed CD in the house.

“Let’s go in before anyone else comes out, or you’ll never enter”

The young adults had wandered to a common hangout spot in the woods, laughing and sharing liquor bottles as blunts and cigs hung lightly between their fingers, the smoke lazily wrapping around their wrists.

They all settled into the beat up leather couches, warn by weather, in merry joy as they reminisced on old memories, and caught up on each other’s lives.

“I’m hungry” CD whined, his stomach groaning.

“Me too, actually” Angel added, leaning back against the couch.

“Who wants to go get food? Nose goes!” CD pressed a wobbly finger to his nose, the rest followed.

“RUTHLESSSSSSSS YOU ARE THE LOSERRRRRRR” He cackled as Ruthie was the last one to press her finger to her nose. She laughed and took a swig from her bottle.

“I’ll go with you” Romeo smiled and got up, holding his hand out for her. She grinned back brilliantly at him and pulled herself up, nearly crashing into him, only to be stopped by a gentle grip on her arms.

“You good?”

“Just wobbly” she giggled, and righted herself.

“All Good now though.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the spot, ignoring the wolf whistles directed at them.

As they walked down the dark road, dimly lit by the stuttering street lights, Ruthie chatted on and on about little things, swinging their connected arms until she stumbled.

He caught her, “You ok?”

She nodded, taking a breath.

“lillllll drunk” Ruthie giggled, leaning against his arm.

“We’ll get you some water and coffee then”

“Mmmm coffee.” She hummed and started swinging their arms again, turning her forehead to rest on his shoulder, “I like coffee”

“I’d hope so, you drink it as much as I do”

“Do you ever get tired of it?”

“Nah”

“Me neither.”

Once they’d gotten their snacks, Ruthie had downed her cup of coffee in two gulps and had moved on to stuffing gummies in her mouth.

On their way back, she’d managed to get through the whole bag and on to her water.

“Slow down, Ruthie” Romeo rested a hand on her shoulder as she gulped down more of her water, “you’re gonna get sick.”

She stopped, and handed him her water, before pulling a hair tie off her wrist and sticking it in her mouth, before pulling her messy hair back, taking the tie, and wrapping it around her ponytail.

“Just in case”

He handed her the water back, their hands brushing against each other. She immediately laced her fingers through his.

“You know, you’ve made studying fun”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re really nice. Not many guys are nice without a catch.”

“People deserve to be respected. And my family obviously loves you. My family is yours.”

“Well, maybe something different” she mumbled, too low for him to hear.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s get back to the group-“

“Can we stop for a second?” She wobbled slightly, “dizzy”

“Sure”

They moved over to the side of the road, facing the dark field, and sat. Ruthie pressed her forehead against his shoulder again, pressing her eyes shut, her hand still grasping his. She took some deep breaths.

“Do you need me to take you home? I can bring them food after, if you’re not feeling ok.” She squeezed his hand, and nodded.

“Let’s just stay here for a minute.”

“Whatever you need,”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the Southside, peaceful.

“Ok” Ruthie breathed, “I think we’re good” she lifted her head to look at him. Her tired eyes strayed to his lips, before she looked away and got up. He followed suit, and the two walked slowly to the trailer park. She’d let out an occasional giggle and fall back into the chatty mood she was in earlier, talking about anything and everything.

As they got to her door, she threw her arms around him, holding him tight.

“You’re very nice” she mumbled into his shirt. He chuckled, and patted her back. As they pulled away, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Make sure to drink some water.”

“I know the drill.” She smiled,

“Well, I should be getting back” he pulled out his phone, which vibrates with Dante’s name on the screen.

“See you tomorrow?”

“I have my test.”

“Then stop by the shop, I’ll make something special to celebrate”

“Sounds like a plan”

“Get some good rest, best of luck!” He waved before answering the phone, holding it away as a booming voice sounded from it.

“Aye! Calmate, she wasn’t feelin good so I brought her home-yes I’m comin back-yes I have the food-ach-Stop whinin”

She watched him until he turned the corner, before she went inside.

The next day, around mid afternoon, Ruthie walked into the coffeeshop, looking less stressed, the dark circles under her eyes a little lighter, and her curls lively.

“You look nice” Romeo smiled, leaning against the counter, “How’d it go?”

“Better than expected...so, I was promised something special?”

“Ahh, yes” he pulled out a bag of snickerdoodles, chocolate chip bagel, and a large coffee cup.

“Cinnamon coffee with hazelnut creamer, a bagel, and Abuela’s famous snickerdoodles” he set them in front of her before looking around for his boss, “on the house” he leaned in, whispering with a wink.

“Thank you.”

“You worked hard, you earned it”

As he was about to turn away, Ruthie placed a hand on his arm.

“Wait,”

“Yeah?”

“You free tomorrow?”

His face split into a big grin, and she could feel hers doing the same.

“What did you have in mind?”