#the news dropped while I was in the middle of teaching so I just spent the last few hours silently screaming while trying to act like a
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WE’RE GETTING A SEASON THREE!!!???!!!
#sorry that I’m freaking out several hours late#the news dropped while I was in the middle of teaching so I just spent the last few hours silently screaming while trying to act like a#teacher#my art#good omens#good omens season 3#aziraphale#crowley#ineffable husbands#good omens fanart#cliopadra blabbers on
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Chin Up
Roy Kent x Teacher!Reader
Warnings: Language
0.8k words
Author's Note: Big thanks to @misshall14 for the idea!
Teach Me Tonight Masterlist
At the pub, you’d refused to go speak to Roy, despite Leanne’s nudging. Nope, not in front of the older teachers. You didn’t need to make this a bigger deal than it was. Roy was being nice, maybe a bit cheeky. He seemed to understand that teaching could be a headache- a wonderful headache that you loved, but a headache, nonetheless. He was just being nice.
Your weekend was spent trying to think of what to say to him during drop-off on Monday. Something polite, kind, without allowing him the opportunity to flirt. You’d never met a more dangerous, charming man, and you needed to prepare yourself for his leather jacket and smiles.
As you greeted parents and children, you were still pondering what you wanted to say to him. But all thoughts of Roy Kent flew out of your head when Jack Price’s mum nearly ran you down, red in the face and dragging her child behind her.
On Friday, you’d made him wait to use the loo until another classmate returned, since you only allowed one student at a time to go. And students knew from day one that if it was an emergency, they didn’t have to wait. It wasn’t even your rule; it was something all the teachers agreed to due to too many instances of playing around in the restrooms. This rule was probably as old as Jack, who had been fine with waiting. It wasn’t news to his mum.
And yet there she was, scolding you in a loud voice for daring to make her child wait like some prisoner, threatening to go to the headmistress for the sadistic way you ran your classroom. While you kept your poise and calmly informed her to please email you to set up a meeting to discuss things at a more appropriate time, you knew everyone could see your burning red face and the tremble she left you with.
Everyone including Roy Kent.
He quickly sent Phoebe off to play before approaching you. “Alright?” His voice was almost as full of concern as his eyes.
You nodded, blinking rapidly to hold back the stupid tears that had formed. “Oh, that was nothing,” you assured him with a dry chuckle. “You get used to it. Parents are worse than the kids.”
“Hmmph.” He was studying you carefully, as if you were going to shatter at any moment.
“I, um, should go chat with the headmistress,” you mumbled, fiddling with your keys. “Let her know what happened.” Your smile was tighter than the feeling in your chest. “See you later, Coach.”
He nodded, no smiles this morning. “Hope your day gets better.” With a small salute, he was gone.
You sighed and headed towards the office. Hope your day gets better. Well, it certainly couldn’t get worse.
~
“Can we come in?”
You looked up from your desk. There was Roy Kent, holding a small brown bag in his hand, Phoebe right behind him clutching her backpack. It was dismissal, and the headmistress had decided to cover for you so you wouldn’t have to see Mrs. Price so soon, which you were grateful for.
You put on your teacher smile, the one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and nodded. “Sure.” You stood and met them in the middle of the classroom. “Long time no see, Pheebs,” you joked, earning a smile from your student. Reluctantly, you turned your attention to her uncle. “Need something?”
Roy held out the paper bag, which you took with a confused frown. “Just… this morning fucking sucked.” He reached into his pocket and took out a pound note, shoving it into Phoebe’s outstretched hand. “Dunno what happened, but you didn’t deserve that.” He nodded to Phoebe. “Cover your ears.” After she’d done so, he continued. “Jack’s mum fucking sucks. Always throwing a fit over nothing. Don’t let her get to you. Promise me.”
Your smile became real when you saw the earnestness in his brown eyes. “Promise.” You opened the bag; inside was a giant chocolate croissant from that café you loved. Your usual. “Are you this kind to all of Phoebe’s teachers?”
He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “I am… kind to the people I want to be kind to.”
Fucking Roy Kent. Charming and mysterious.
“Well, thank you,” you managed. “Appreciate it.”
He wrapped his arm around Phoebe’s shoulders; you chuckled when you realized she was still covering her ears. “Right. Well, we better go get this one’s homework started.” He gave you one last nod. “Chin up, alright?”
“Bye, Coach. Bye Pheebs.”
As the two walked out of your classroom, you turned to go back to your desk. With your back to him, you didn’t see the way Roy glanced over his shoulder to take one last look at you, a wistful smile on his bearded face.
Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten @gothicwidowsworld @taytaylala12
#roy kent teach me tonight#roy kent x teacher!reader#he's here he's there he's every fucking where#roy kent#roy kent x reader#roy kent fanfic#roy kent fic#roy kent fanfiction#roy kent fluff#ted lasso fic#ted lasso fanfic#ted lasso fanfiction
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Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 1
Yeah...I know I said I would be taking a step back but then my muse went “Brrrrr!” and wouldn’t let me up until I had over 6k words and several more scenes I wanted to do, including the end.
Art student!Steve and Live Model! Eddie AU. Enemies to lovers. Eddie is a straight up ass in the first few chapters of this.
*
Steve was in the library looking at his schedule with Robin.
“It’s my last semester, Robs,” he said squinting at the computer screen. “And then I can graduate.”
Robin sighed. “I still have a year to go, you are so lucky.”
Steve was looking at the remaining credits he needed to graduate with art teaching degree and was shocked to find that he only needed one class.
“Shit.”
She leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer, too.
“Shit,” she echoed.
“Live figure drawing,” Steve muttered with an air finality. “The class I failed three times.”
“Mhmm,” Robin agreed. “Once a year.”
He banged his head on the desk. “I hate that class. And it’s always awful. There was the creepy old man that kept hitting on me the whole time.” He had been forced to drop the class. He had been reimbursed for it, but because it happened just after the midterm, insta-fail. “Then there was poor heavy-set girl. The constant sniggering and jeering made me ill and when the professor refused to anything about it...” he shook his head.
“Yeah, that was the worst,” Robin whispered. “But at least that incident got that professor fired.”
Steve nodded. That had been the only good thing that had come out of that class. But getting him fired made for another insta-fail. He tried to protest that one, but the Dean refused to budge.
“The last time was all you, though,” she said, pushing at his shoulder.
Steve cleared his throat and hung his head. Because, yeah that one was on him.
The new professor brought in an extremely fit basketball player. Steve had spent very little time drawing and a lot of time trying not to stare. So when he turned in his final with a blurry face and nothing drawn in the middle, he had failed the class again.
Robin pointed at the screen. “It’s a different teacher again this year.”
Steve lifted his head to look at what she was pointing at. J. Byers.
“Shit,” he murmured. “You don’t think that’s like Joyce Byers, do you?”
Steve had done a lot of babysitting and holding down two jobs to pay for school out his own pocket because his dad wasn’t willing to pay for what amounted to an art degree. He would work at Family Video while the kids were in school and then work at the plant at nights on weekends.
Will Byers was one of those he babysat. The kid had an older brother. But he had been working full time to keep the lights on while their mom got a master’s degree.
Robin’s mouth worked but no sound came out.
“I think this got even more awkward,” Steve murmured.
Robin just patted his shoulder in sympathy.
*
Steve was in hell. That was the only explanation for all of this. It had been Joyce Byers and he had to get the Dean to sign off him being in her class because she might be accused of favoritism. In fact if it hadn’t been the only class Steve needed to graduate he was pretty sure the Dean wouldn’t have allowed it.
Which was fine. Awkward, but fine. Nope. The part that made it hell was who was currently sitting on a stool in the middle of the classroom, (completely dressed, thank god!) was Eddie Munson.
The so-called Freak of Hawkins High. Or as Steve called him in his head “Steve Harrington’s biggest gay crush.” So yeah. All that work to get special permission to take the class and he was going to fail anyway.
Joyce stepped up to stand next to Eddie. “Hello, I’m Mrs Byers. Or Joyce, whichever make you more comfortable. Because that’s the point of this class. You being comfortable. I know this not ideal for a lot people. Especially young people like yourselves. So we’re going to start off slow. Working on different parts of the body and then for your final it will the complete nude form.”
Steve let out a shuddering breath. He wasn’t the only one, thank god, but if Eddie had stripped then and there, Steve would have fainted.
“This will be your live model this semester,” she continued, indicating to Eddie on the stool. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”
Eddie grinned, his dimples making themselves known. “Hi! I’m Eddie. I was looking for a way to make easy money between gigs with my band. I have tattoos, but Joyce here has assured me that that won’t be problem for you sweethearts as this is an advanced art class.”
Steve gulped. It wasn’t going to be a problem art-wise. But libido-wise? He was in so much trouble.
After class he stopped to talk to Joyce.
“Hey, Mrs Byers,” he greeted with barely the hint of a stammer. “How’s Will?”
Joyce hugged him. “It’s so good to see you, honey. Will is doing great. He’s navigating school better now that we’re back in Illinois.”
Steve nodded. They had briefly gone out to California so that she could get some special accreditation or something like that.
“Tell him I miss him,” he said.
Joyce smiled. “Of course, sweetie.” She gave his hand a squeeze and said she had to get back to work.
Steve nodded again and walked out the door.
“Well, well, well,” Eddie said. “If it isn’t the former king of Hawkins High. I thought I saw you lurking in the back.”
Steve closed his eyes and turned slowly. There he was, leaning against the wall, one leg propped against, while the other stretched out in front of him. His arms were crossed, and his hair dangled in front of his bowed head. Steve itched to draw him oh so badly.
“Munson,” he said trying to keep the tremor from his voice.
Eddie lifted his head. “So you do remember me, should I feel honored?”
Steve let out a heavy sigh. “You do what you want, you always have.”
“I heard you got special permission for this class,” Eddie sneered. “You convince the Dean to take the class for a lookie-Lou? Sorry to disappoint, Harrington. Not some hot chick you can leer at for fifteen weeks.”
Steve’s head rocked back in shock. “Fuck you, man. For starters I got special permission because being the former babysitter for teacher is a bad look for both of us. For another, this is my last class I need for my art degree.”
Eddie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Daddy let you take art? Must really not need the dough.”
Steve balled his hands to prevent the rage from tumbling out. “No. I worked hard to get where I am. And for the record...they never have hot women. Not if they don’t want to get sued for harassment. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to work because not all of us can take our clothes off and be paid.”
He stormed off, tears streaming down his face.
*
Eddie watched him go with a slow lick of his lips. That went differently then he expected. He didn’t think Harrington would cop to admitting that he was there to leer, but his lie about art school? That was a new low.
And babysitting? No parent in their right mind would leave Steve “the Hair” Harrington in charge of their kids. Lie number two.
And then trying to get out of talking to him by saying he had work? Harrington lived in Loch Nora. The richest part of town. He didn’t have to work a day in his life. Lie number three.
And what was that about not being able to take off his clothes and get paid? It didn’t sound right to his ears. It was like he wasn’t dogging the modeling gig but that he couldn’t.
Which anyone who had eyes knew that was bullshit.
Joyce came out and saw him still standing there. “Thank you again for doing this, Eddie.”
“You’re welcome, Joyce,” he said with a charming smile. “I don’t mind. I’m sorry your other model bailed on you last minute though.”
Joyce sighed. “She got a bar tending job that starts on tonight and I’d really prefer not to have my models fall asleep in the middle of posing.”
“Chrissy’s good girl,” Eddie said. “I’m actually glad she got the job at the bar. Some of the guys in the class looked pretty slimy.”
Joyce sighed. “It happens every time. They take just enough art classes in order to get in and then are disappointed when it’s not some pretty girl.”
Eddie nodded, thinking of Steve Harrington.
“And this school has had a problem with a couple of the last models they had,” Joyce murmured. “If another incident occurs, the class will be dropped all together and I’ll be out of job.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he said, with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder.
Joyce looked up at him with a smile. “You’re so sweet, Eddie. I’m glad Will found someone like you to look up to.”
Eddie blushed, shoving his hair in his mouth. “I like the kid. He’ll do just fine.”
Joyce nodded. “See you tomorrow.” She waved goodbye and walked away.
*
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Epilogue
Just tagging a few of my regulars, but if you want to be tagged let me know in the comments. Thanks!
Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369
#My writing#stranger things#steddie#art school au#gay steve harrington#bisexual eddie munson#ladykailtiha writes
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Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand) Ch. 2
Steve Harrington x f!reader
Description: You have this amazing talent of knocking the wind right out of Steve's chest with words alone.
Warnings: pregnant!reader, mentions of being sick (among other scarier pregnancy symptoms), language
Word Count: 3614
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My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!
Rain slammed against the window panes of the Harrington house like bullets. The cold seeped through the walls and ate straight through Steve’s pajamas, and the cup of coffee in his hands was doing little to remedy it. There was zero hint of sun in the sky, it seemed like there would be none all day, and Steve was really regretting coming out from under his covers.
Steve had only slept in his own house three times over the past two weeks; he’d made quite the home for himself on your couch, living out of a backpack of clothes he’d stuck in the corner of your living room. You had asked him not to leave you alone, and what kind of man would he be if he had said no to that? He probably wouldn’t even have been able to, anyway.
He didn’t know if he would be allowed to sleep in your bed with you, and he had been too afraid to ask.
While his father never really bothered to care where his son was, and his mother trusted him enough to let him do his own thing most of the time, he was still expected to show his face at home every once in a while. He’d been stuck with the closing shift last night (even though it was outside of his availability, so thanks for that, Keith), and he knew you’d be fast asleep by the time he made it back to your apartment. You’d called the store after you got home at the much more reasonable hour of six thirty. ‘I think I can live with being alone for tonight’ you’d told him. ‘I’ve got a paper to write, anyway.’
Fuck, Steve really needed a better job. Preferably one that paid him more and wasn’t open until eleven p.m. on a Thursday night.
You worked a big girl job at the Roane County Historical Society museum. You were just a secretary, but you had a salary, insurance, and all that other grown up stuff. Nine to five, four days a week, and they helped with your college tuition, too. Come May, you’d have a History degree and a teaching certification, and word on the street said Hawkins Middle was about to have a need for a new History teacher. Unlike him, you had the perfect five year plan laid out right in front of you.
Y’know, as long as Steve hadn’t ruined it for you.
By the time he woke up on Friday, his father was long gone. It was nearing one in the afternoon, and the big empty house felt extra big and extra empty today. Steve glanced out the window as he poured a second cup of coffee and saw the rain collecting in the bottom of the long-since drained pool in his backyard. A handful of stray leaves sat mixed with the rainwater, some stuck in a brown mass on the bottom, some floating lazily atop the puddle.
He was startled out of his trance by his mother’s voice and nearly dropped his full mug.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said as she walked into the kitchen, heels clicking along the tiles. “Or, good afternoon, rather.”
Meredith Harrington was the opposite of her husband in more ways than anyone could count. She actually enjoyed spending time with her child, for one, but there had never been an angry bone in her body. She wasn’t immune to frustration, or worry, but it was never unfounded. Yet still, for every wild flame of rage that shot from her husband's mouth, she counteracted with calmness. Or, more accurately, quiet, fearful resignation. Her husband never put his hands on her or their son, but Steve could always tell that she had spent her whole marriage walking on eggshells, waiting for the terrifying moment that he did, as if it was a simple inevitability.
Steve loved his mom, but fuck, he wished she would just stand up for herself for once.
“God, Mom, you scared me,” Steve responded, leaning against the counter.
“I do live here, too, y’know,” she poked back with a smile. “When did you get so jumpy?”
If she ever found out the real answer to that question, she would probably never let her son out of her sight ever again.
“Haven’t seen much of you these last couple weeks,” his mother observed. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” he insisted. “Yeah, I’m alright.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. She put the pocketbook she was holding down on the marble countertop of the island and crossed the room to lean against it, opposite her son. “I can tell, there’s far too much going on in that big head of your’s.”
Steve snorted at the well meaning insult.
“It’s nothing mom, I promise.”
“Come on now, you know I don’t buy that,” his mother asked with arms crossed. “Talk to me, kid.”
“I-I don’t know.” Steve was absolutely, in no way, ready to talk about any of what was going through his head, especially to his mom. ‘You might be a grandma come September’ wasn’t really something he could just drop in the middle of casual conversation.
“Is it a girl, maybe?”
Steve’s quiet was proof enough that his mother was, at least partially, right. She gave her son a knowing smile.
“Tell me it’s not Nancy again, right?” she asked. Meredith was generally a pretty forgiving woman, but Nancy had really broken her son’s heart. So, while she would always show nothing but kindness to the eldest of the Wheeler children, she didn’t have to like her.
“Oh, no. Definitely not,” Steve assured. “That ship sailed a long, long time ago.”
“Good,” she replied. “Will I ever get to meet this mystery girl?”
Steve just shrugged, deciding it best to omit the fact that the “mystery girl” had lived across the street for eighteen years and swam in their pool every summer for a decade.
“You should invite her over for dinner some time,” his mother said. She leaned forward and pulled a piece of errant lint off of Steve’s shoulder with perfectly manicured nails. “I’ll roast a chicken. It’ll be nice.”
“She doesn’t eat chicken.”
“She doesn’t eat chicken?” she parroted back. “What kind of person doesn’t eat chicken?”
“She’s a vegetarian, mom,” he explained.
“Ah,” his mom accepted. “Then I’ll make that broccoli cheddar casserole you like. You know, the one I make during Lent every year? Think she’d like that?”
“Yeah, I think she would.” Steve was trying his best to hide his smile, though he wasn’t doing it all that well.
“Alrighty.” She patted her son’s shoulder as she walked past him and gathered her purse. “Well, I have to go run some errands. You’re more than welcome to join me if you’d like.”
“No, thanks.”
“Right. You’re much too cool to tag along with mom to the grocery store. How could I have forgotten?”
“No! No, it’s not that, I-”
“I’m joking, Steve,” she assured with a smile. “Make sure that cup ends up in the dishwasher, okay? Not just in the sink.”
“Dishwasher. Got it.”
“I love you! Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone!”
With that, the heavy front door shut and Steve was plunged into the silence of deserted suburbia.
You were at work, he had the day off with no plans, and the idea of being at all productive sounded absolutely exhausting. He finished his coffee in two big gulps and decided the best way to spend the day would be to crawl right back into bed and wallow in his feelings.
Steve had, very much on purpose, kept most of his thoughts about your current situation to himself. Partially because every time you two did start talking about it, you ended up a slushy pile of tears in his arms. The other reason, though, the bigger reason, was that he was terrified that you would put all of your own wants and wishes to the side and do whatever he wanted you to. The concept of you having a baby you didn’t want just to appease him made him sick to his stomach.
His parents only got married because his mom ended up pregnant at nineteen, and having a baby out of wedlock in 1967 was a social sin of the highest order. So they planned a wedding in two weeks time (a small family affair, exclusively to save face and avoid the questions that arise with courthouse ceremonies), and moved into a big, fancy house so that everyone knew the Harringtons were a normal, run-of-the-mill, perfect American family. His father loved to point out all of the things he didn’t get to do all because Steve came along and got in the way, and his mother. . .
She loved him. He knew that. He also knew that she had to pack up her life to play house with a man she was always a little bit afraid of, all because of him. His father always resented him for it, but his mom never did. At the very least, she never told him she did.
The thought of doing to you what his father did to his mom absolutely fucking terrified him, but ‘terrified’ had been his baseline state of being pretty much constantly over the past two weeks.
Steve was no stranger to fear. He’d had extensive experience with the feeling; that sharp heaviness that settled itself behind his ribs and sucked every drop of oxygen out of his lungs. When it came at him hard and fast, that was when he could handle it best. This was not that. This fear was slow and achy, all-encompassing. It sealed itself onto his bones, like some sort of emotional slime. Like a fungus.
And, honestly, most of that fear was for you, not him. The worst thing that could happen to him was that he could end up being a shitty father, and while he would hate that more than pretty much anything in the entire world, it did sort of pale in comparison to your worst case scenario. You could die.
Yeah, maybe he was being a little bit dramatic, but you still could. It wasn’t all that far outside of the realm of possibility. You were already horribly sick, you had been for the past few weeks, and while you had been taking the constant nausea and incessant dizzy spells like a fuckin’ champ, it wasn’t like a positive attitude would be able to save you if you started hemorrhaging.
Steve really hoped, for your sake, that you had yet to go down this train of thought, but he knew you most likely had. As terrified for you as he was, he understood that you were probably feeling all of it tenfold.
And yet, behind all of that, he was having a very difficult time squashing that tiny inkling of reckless hope that had been planted in the back of his head. He was still a 21 year old dick-head who had zero business taking care of a baby, and he definitely wasn’t allowed to be excited about it. For, like, a million different reasons.
Eventually, he fell back into a heavy-limbed sleep, but was woken up however many hours later by the shrill ring of the phone. A bleary eyed glance at the clock on his bedside table told him it was just passed six o’clock. His mother should be back by now, right? He let it ring.
A moment passed, and it rang once more. He debated for a moment if he even had the right to answer it anymore, but he begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed and picked it up anyway.
“Harrington Residence,” he grumbled, hoping whoever was on the other side could tell how frustrated he was to be awake.
“Steve?” Your voice came through the line. It was strained, and he heard you trying your best to disguise the sobs coming from your throat. “It’s me.”
“Hey, woah, what’s going on? What happened?” he questioned, any annoyance gone.
“Are you able to come pick me up?” you stuttered out between sniffles. “I’m at work. I-I have a flat tire.”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course I can,” he said.
“Okay.”
“I’m on my way, alright? Five minutes, tops,” he told you. He had the earpiece of the phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder, and the cord was stretched as far as it could go to reach into his bedroom as he haphazardly swapped his flannel pajama bottoms for a pair of jeans.
“Thank you.” Another sob.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he insisted. “Hang tight, I’ll be right there.”
The rain had slowed back to a dismal drizzle that splashed into the puddles stretched across Steve’s driveway. The drive to the museum was usually short, but the evening rush (as if the barely-there Hawkins traffic could ever be called that) slowed him down just enough for it to be annoying. The museum had officially closed an hour ago, though stray patrons and evening administrative duties usually kept you back after hours.
Steve saw you shivering underneath the awning that hung over the front doors, comparable to a lost kitten stuck in a thunderstorm. The shoulders of your sweater were soaked through, and as Steve pulled into the parking lot and stopped his car, he could see the angry black rivers of runny mascara that dribbled down your face.
“What the hell are you doing waiting for me out here in the rain?” Steve asked as he jogged up to where you were standing. He removed his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. “Why aren’t you inside? It’s freezing.”
“That creepy research assistant is in there and I hate being in the same room as him when there’s nobody else around,” you choked out, syllables broken up by wracking sobs.
“Alec?” Steve asked, and you nodded. He pulled you tightly against him before adding, “I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”
“Please don’t do that,” you squeaked.
“Let’s change your tire, huh?” Steve said, though he made no move to let you go. “Do you have the spare?”
“That-” your words were cut off by a pitiful sniffle. “That is the spare.”
“Of course it is,” Steve sighed, though he most certainly should not have, because it just spurred on more crying from you. “Hey, it’s alright. I can take you home and we can get a new tire on it in the morning, okay?”
“I just had a really bad day,” you wept into his shoulder.
“I know, baby. It’s okay.”
“I spilled the hottest tea in the universe all over my legs,” you croaked. Steve winced at the image.
“I’m sorry,” he said into the top of your head.
“And since it was so hot, I accidentally said ‘motherfucker’ in front of a tour group that consisted exclusively of second graders!” you added. Steve would have laughed at that if you weren’t so wildly upset. “And Creepy Alec was being creepy all day long-”
“My offer still stands.”
“And then I came out here and my fucking tire was fucking flat!” you exclaimed, punctuated by another bout of wailing, the kind that made your whole body shake and your voice stutter. Steve took it the best he could, petting the back of your head and holding you tight, wishing he could go into your brain and dig all of the bad bits out.
“Let me get you home, and we can get you into some dry clothes and deal with your car in the morning, okay?”
“Okay,” you whimpered.
Steve let you go, but when he went to pull you along to his car so the pair of you could leave, you stayed planted right where you were. You lifted your watery eyes to meet his, and he gazed at you from where he stood.
“Steve?” you quietly asked him.
“Yeah?” Steve responded. A silence fell between the two of you, though the lazy rain and evening downtown traffic poked holes through it.
“I wanna keep the baby.”
You had this amazing talent of knocking the wind right out of his chest with only words alone.
“That-” came out of fucking nowhere, holy shit!, he didn’t add. “Really?”
“Yeah,” you muttered over a wobbly lip.
Steve was paralyzed. The soles of his shoes had been superglued to the pavement and his arms had been turned to stone. It was somehow both exactly what he did and did not want to hear all at the same time, because deep down in his gut he knew he wanted that too, but there was a laundry list of reasons why it was a bad idea, why it was irresponsible, why it was maybe everything he ever wanted, and-
“Steve, if you don’t want to do this, that's okay, but I need you to tell me. Now.” Your voice, shaky and full of fear and yet so, so determined, pulled him up and away from his thoughts once again.
“I do!” he exclaimed, maybe with a bit too much fervor. He regained his ability to move and closed the gap between the two of you in one wide step. “I do.”
You stood silent with your glassy eyes staring bullets into his.
“Look, I’m gonna start talking, and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to stop, so if it gets to be too much, just shut me up, okay?” Steve said. He brought his hands up to grace your shoulders.
“What?” you questioned, confusion laced throughout your miserable expression.
Steve had spent the last three and a half years doing everything he could to drown out the sounds of his feelings for you, and Robin was right. It was destroying his brain.
“I’m really, really in love with you,” he said. “And I have been for a really, really long time. Since way before this, fuck, since before Starcourt, and I’m so fucking sorry for not having the guts to say it until now. I’m the universe’s biggest coward for that-”
“You are not a coward!”
“-And I know you deserve better, but for some reason that still eludes me, you’ve stuck with me through all the bullshit, anyway. You could’ve run away whenever you wanted to, you could’ve gone with your parents when they left, but you didn’t, and that has to mean something, right?”
“Steve,” you wept.
“I promise, there is nothing in this world that I want more than to do this with you, alright? Not a single fucking thing,” he assured you. “I meant what I said. Holding your hand the whole time.”
Steve took your trembling hand into his own, fingers fitting together like lock and key.
“If you’ll have me,” he added.
Your lips wobbled, you let out another shattered sob, and you kissed him like it was the only thing keeping you alive. Like you would drop dead right on the spot if not for his lips on yours. Steve kissed back, because he knew he would drop dead if he didn’t, and now he had tears to match your own.
“I’m really, really in love with you, too,” you blubbered after the pair of you pulled apart. You had a hand on either side of his face, fingers ghosting over the junction of his jawline and neck, and Steve had his wrapped delicately around each wrist.
“You really wanna do this?” Steve asked you. “You really mean it? You’re not just saying it?”
“I really mean it,” you said definitively. You were still very much crying, though you were infinitely less miserable than you had been five minutes ago. The pair of you stayed swaying in each other's arms, protecting each other from the cold.
“Good, because I really mean it, too,” he responded.
The thick, foggy haze of emotion was beginning to dwindle, and despite the warm bubble of affection the two of you had created, you were still standing out in the rain. And Steve was pretty sure he could see Creepy Alec spying on them through one of the second story windows.
“Let’s go home. I’ll make you dinner,” Steve murmured to you, and you nodded in agreement.
Steve drove you both back to your apartment and made a feast of plain scrambled eggs and buttered toast, because it was all your stomach could really handle right now. Turns out, he very much was allowed to sleep in your bed with you, and after he’d finished doing the dishes in the sink, he joined you under the pile of blankets that adorned your mattress. Your cat curled itself up at the end of the bed as you drew yourself into his side. He didn’t remember you being this cuddly, but it was a change he was more than happy to welcome.
After a few minutes, when he’d thought you had fallen asleep, your voice pierced through the quiet of your bedroom.
“You’re gonna be someone's dad,” you muttered into his pajamas. Fuck. He was, wasn’t he?
“You’re gonna be someone’s mom,” he shot back.
“Weird,” you responded. “I think you’ll be really good at it.”
“You think so?”
“Mhm. Definitely.”
And of course Steve was still fucking terrified. Terrified of the monsters, and of his dad, and of all the different ways this could go south, but he had you tucked up against his chest, and he was gonna be someone’s dad, and he couldn’t really bring himself to care about any of the scary stuff. In this moment, for the first time in as long as Steve could really remember, the underlying current of fear that ran along his thoughts was finally overpowered by just how much he fucking adored you.
Tiny Little Taglist: @sheisjoeschateau @hazydespair @damon-loves-pie @pariahsparadise @anislabonis-love @e0509 @alexa4040 @starsforviolet @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @plk-18 @hoesbloated
#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x female reader#steve harrington x you#joe keery#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things x y/n#stranger things fanfic#stranger things x you#stranger things imagines#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington x f!reader
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Hello, guys! It's me!
How are you?
And I present to you another fic, ashorter one!
I'm almost done with the request so I'll be accepting new ones soon!
I hope you'll enjoy!
I’ll try word this the best I can. My request idea was one when reader and hyunjin are ice skating and then he slips and gets a concussion and he’s really dizzy and asks to just go home. He’s being really cranky and frustrated and won’t even eat anything. Later he develops a terrible headache and reader has to stop him crying and making it worse. Reader convinces him to eat something but he gets really sick in the middle of the night and tells her he wants to just throw it up but she discourages him from doing that because it’s all he’s eaten all day. He gets frustrated (again lol) because she doesn’t want him to puke so she just lets him do it in the end.
A DANGEROUS MOVE
Hyunjin spent the entire week stressing over what you two could do together that wasn't the usual dinner, Han River, etc. He wanted to do something different, then an idea popped into his head: ice skating.
He knew how to skate and he thought that maybe he could teach you, and laugh at you in the process, but little did he know you were almost a pro.
You were really excited just as he was and couldn't wait to get to the ice rink, but little did you know how the day would unfold.
Getting there, you both put on the skates and set off on the little adventure. And yes, he was appalled by how good you were and how magical you looked while you skated and spun.
- Woah. You look beautiful babe!
- Thanks!
You said getting close to him and circling him, giggling, making him feel extra happy that you were having a good time.
He then joined you, doing really simple choreographies with you, enjoying every bit of the moment. Then he attempted a move that didn't end well.
He failed his landing, making him fall on his back and unavoidably hit his head on the ice, the sound of it startling you and making your stomach drop.
- Hyunjin!
You yelled running to him. Getting to his side you instructed him to not move for a while.
- Oh my god, babe! Are you okay?
- Agh!
He winced from the pain in his head and even though he was lying down he was feeling dizzy. After a minute he was calm enough to get up.
- Here let me help you.
You placed your arms under his, hugged him, and helped him to his feet and he swayed once he was standing but you managed to steady him before helping him out of the rink.
- Sit down here.
He sat down and squeezed his eyes, the dizziness not wanting to go away. You kneeled and removed his skates for him and helped him put on his shoes.
- Let me see your head.
You said getting up and looking behind his head, trying to see if he'd cut it. Thankfully nothing, but the fall was hard so he might've gotten a concussion.
- babe...let's go home...I'm too dizzy...
He said grabbing your arm and ducking his head. That was the sign that something was wrong, Hyunjin only admitted to feeling unwell when things got really bad like you'd seen when he injured his hand.
- Sure honey, let's go.
You put on his mask for him, making sure he wouldn't be recognized even though you didn't see any paparazzi, and then put your arms under his and he embraced you back so he could stand, feeling way too dizzy to trust his own body.
You helped him settle in the car, buckling his seatbelt, his eyes closed all along, and a pained expression all over his face.
- Honey, I think we should go to the hospital...You might've gotten a concussion
- Okay...
He said grunting and sinking into his seat.
You took him to the hospital where the doctor said he did have a concussion but it wasn't bad, he'd experience headaches and probably some nausea but it would get better in a few days, as long as he rested. You let the others know and then took him home.
The pain was so annoying that Hyunjin was really grumpy, anything was setting him off even the tiniest of the inconveniences.
- Babe, I made some food.
- I don't want to eat...
- Just a little bit?
- I don't have any appetite...I just wanna rest...
- Okay. I'll eat and we'll sleep for a while, okay?
- Hmm...
He hummed, leaning his head on your shoulder as you ate your meal. Once you were done you washed the dishes while Hyunjin already headed to the bedroom to lie down.
You got to the bedroom and lay down next to him, cuddling him to try to give him some comfort. You rubbed his back and stroked his hair making him fall asleep within minutes.
But at 1h30 later he woke up and his head was throbbing, he could feel his heart beating inside it. The pain was getting unbearable, he was feeling miserable, and he started sobbing quietly in your embrace.
You woke up as you felt him twitch a little under your touch and noticed he was sobbing.
- Hyune? Baby?
You said waking him up and cupping his face, tears ready to fall from his eyes.
- It's hurting a lot...
- Oh baby, I know. But don't cry, crying will only make it worse.
You said pulling him into an embrace and rubbing his back gently, trying to calm him down. You started breathing deeply and slowly and instructed Hyunjin to do the same. He paid attention to the movement of your body and followed along and managed to calm down after a few minutes.
- There we go. Feeling a little calmer now?
You asked, gently wiping away a small tear with your thumb.
- Yes....
- Can you try to eat something? For me?
- Yes...
- Okay, I'll go get it.
You brought a small portion of the food you made earlier for him to eat and he did and liked it.
- Thanks, honey. It was really good.
- I'm glad you liked it.
You turned on the TV to watch some drama so he could distract himself and get some sleep while cuddling you and within 30 minutes he was fast asleep again and so were you.
The night was going well but then the effects of the concussion started to reveal themselves.
His head was throbbing again, he could feel it behind his eyes and his stomach was in absolute turmoil. It was sloshing around, making loud uncomfortable gurgling noises.
He woke up and sat up on the bed nudging you to wake up.
- Hm? What is it?
You said blinking, eyes half open trying to take in the image of your boyfriend sitting on the bed, one arm hugging his middle and head resting on the other.
- What's wrong honey?
- My head and my stomach...
- What exactly are you feeling?
- My head is throbbing...and my stomach h-hurts...
- Are you feeling nauseous?
- Yes...I wanna throw up...
He said gagging weakly into his hand and then leaning against you.
- But baby...you've barely eaten anything...
- but it hurts... something is revolting inside.
- I know it's annoying, Hyune. Don't you want to try to get some medication first? And see if the urge goes away? I don't want to see you vomit the only thing I've managed to make you eat today...
- Fine...
He said sounding clearly frustrated and defeated. He knew you meant well because, yes he didn't eat much but deep down he knew getting it out was the only way for him to feel better. But to not worry you, he took the medication and just waited, seated on the bed with you. Ultimate silence took over the room as you rubbed patterns on his hand while he just kept looking down.
At some point, his body made it clear that the medication wasn't working, making his stomach let out a loud gurgle, that even you heard it.
It was rioting inside him and he already could taste acid at the back of his throat. An air bubble stuck in his throat obligated him to force a burp out to try to get some comfort or relief but it backfired when it brought a small amount of acid liquid.
He grimaced at the taste and texture, gagging weakly and then immediately swallowed it back.
Which proved to be the worst choice he could've made at that moment. As soon as it went down it wanted to come back up, making him start to swallow convulsively, now gripping your hand to try to control the urge since you didn't want him to throw up.
You squeezed his hand back looking at him with caring eyes and he never moved from his position, still staring at the mattress keeping his head down.
After he managed to swallow the urge one time he let out a long sigh, that didn't really seem to be of relief.
- You okay?
You asked softly, holding his hand and rubbing patterns on it again.
- No...
He said with a shaky voice and nodding his head.
Another loud gurgle was the last warning from his stomach before strong nausea took over his entire body, strong enough to make him sweat cold.
He felt that acid taste in his mouth again which was beginning to fill with saliva.
- ...'m gonna throw up...
He said very faintly, trying not to open his mouth too much and risk vomiting all over the bed. His voice was so muffled, you didn't hear clearly.
- What?
You asked with a fond tone of voice, tilting your head to the side and lowering it getting closer to him.
- I'm gonna throw up.
He said with a shaky voice that ended with a retch and already getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom.
- oh.
That was all you said before getting out of the bed yourself and following him into the bathroom.
Hyunjin just bent over the toilet, holding the edges, and stood there, staring at the water.
- Is it that bad?
You said as you entered the bathroom going to his side with a hair tie on your hand. You tied his hair into a bun and placed your hand on his back and gently rubbed it up and down.
- Yeah...
He said spitting out a bit of saliva and rocking back and forth in agony. His head was throbbing because of the concussion and his stomach was angry but it seemed like it had created a mind of its own and was determined to make Hyunjin suffer some more.
Despite all the nausea, gurgling, and pain, his stomach was not exactly helping him throw up.
It then started cramping making Hyunjin retch dryly over the toilet and the only thing that would come up a few times was thick saliva, but the nausea was still there and it was still very strong.
- Honey... nothing's coming up...
He said, still rocking back and forth and feeling defeated and hopeless. His stomach was clearly not okay so why wasn't it trying to get the food out?
- Breathe baby...do you want some water? Maybe it'll help trigger it...
- Yes...
- I'll go get it.
You gave him your water bottle with cold water in it and he took a few careful sips.
- Straighten your back a bit, maybe it'll help as well.
He did as you told him and your hand never left his back, providing him the comfort and balance he needed at that moment.
Moving his body actually increased the nausea, making him gag a few times but nothing came up, so he just kept standing and breathing.
You decided to rub his stomach and see if it helped him throw up since he was feeling so miserable.
It seemed to have helped as the nausea increased even more, making him bend over the toilet one more time.
He kept his mouth open, retching unproductively a few times before a strong cramp in his stomach sent hot liquid rushing up his throat making him lurch forward as a thick stream of partially digested food hit the toilet water.
- Oh baby...
You cooed as you rubbed his back when another round came out not giving him time to breathe.
- you're doing good.
You pat his back when he choked on a piece of that got stuck in his throat and triggered another wave to come out mixing with the putrid mess inside the toilet.
After that, he dry heaved a few times before the nausea subsided a little. He straightened his back, took deep breaths, and swayed a bit, the whole ordeal making him dizzy and his concussion hurting even more.
- Babe...can you help me to the bedroom...I feel faint...
- Sure. Just rinse your mouth quickly and let's go.
You flushed the toilet then wrapped your arms around him, helping him rinse his mouth in the sink and guiding him to the bedroom where he immediately passed out once he hit the bed.
You covered him and lay down beside him, stroking his hair, hoping he could sleep through the rest of the night and that his concussion would get better soon.
#emeto#sickfic#whump#kpop sickfic#kpop emeto#stray kids emeto#stray kids sickfic#skz emeto#skz fanfic#skz sickfic#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin emeto#hyunjin sickfic#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#felix x reader#jisung x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader#skz fluff#skz angst
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swimming lessons | e.m
summary - reader teaches eddie how to swim (5k)
no tws! please note, this is fem!reader x eddie but there are physical descriptions. (i find it very difficult to write without physical descriptions, that is why this is originally eddie x oc but altered for more people to enjoy!)
author’s notes - it’s been a year since i posted my writing online and even longer since i finished anything. i’m trying very hard to get back into writing because i completely lost any ability to for a long while because of how busy my life had gotten. my life has finally finally calmed down again so i can pour more time and energy into growing as a writer! i cross-post on ao3 as @fleursamour where i write eddie x oc. that said, hope you enjoy!
The summer of ’86 had broken the heat record and there were still four weeks of summer vacation left. The Starcourt Mall’s remains still stood in the middle of the town but people were too hot to care for it which was a small victory in the grand scheme of things. The less people asked questions, the less Y/N felt the need to look over her shoulder and expect angry Russians to point a gun at her.
Instead, Y/N waded through the mass of people heading to the swimming pool, dodging children in their bright bathing suits and matching floaties and impatient moms who just wanted to lay by the side of the pool and read their over-the-counter romance novels while their children tried to drown each other in the water.
Little drops of sweat formed at the base of her neck and rolled down as she moved against the crowd, heading in the opposite direction. She licked her dry lips and walked a little faster until finally: air.
Y/N sighed as she sucked in some fresh air, the chattering and loud laughter moving away and away until they finally faded into nothing.
Dressed in her classic red bathing suit with white rims and jeans-shorts, Y/N walked until the granite streets turned into the uneven ground of the forest. Y/N clung to her duffle bag as she moved, bypassing a fallen tree trunk, until she finally reached the trailer park which held the trailer of one Eddie Munson.
Perhaps their friendship was an unconventional one. Y/N was a cheerleader, head cheerleader to be exact, and Eddie… Eddie was called ‘The Freak’ on a good day, never mind the bad days. A Dungeon Master with a passion for playing the guitar and a rock-and-roll style having a friendship with a preppy cheerleader from the suburbs who spent her days reading and writing stories about people falling in love? It was unheard of.
And yet…
And yet, they bonded very quickly after being assigned a project in History, a subject Y/N was exceptionally good at. They worked together for six long weeks; dividing their time between the Wheeler house and Eddie’s trailer and ended up with the highest grade in their class, though Y/N figured they would’ve still become close friends if it wasn’t for the grade. Between sticky fingers from glueing their cardboard presentation board and long breaks sitting on the porch or in the grass just talking, Y/N and Eddie realised they were two creative minds who simply worked together.
Once the project was done, Y/N broke the news to Mike that yes, she might have stolen his new idol as her friend, and joined the D&D club, though not fully. Y/N still wasn’t keen on playing D&D, the long hours of it making her feel antsy, but she worked together with Eddie to compose great stories for the boys to act out and Eddie made a pink Hellfire shirt, just for her.
They still talked, about everything and nothing. Y/N didn’t quite understand why but everything felt easy between them. Eddie was the one person she could tell everything to without fearing he would judge her because he was Eddie and Eddie was kind and understood.
And now she was standing in front of his trailer, hand raised to knock on the metal door. Y/N only had to worry for a second about burning her fingers when the door swung open and strong arms wrapped around her body.
Eddie lifted her clean off the ground, swinging her around like a rag-doll. For a nerd, Eddie was strong. Y/N would’ve never expected it but it only took a glance at Eddie’s rolled-up sleeves which revealed his veined forearms and that one time he wore a T-shirt while sitting next to her in her mom’s canopy, drinking overly sweet iced tea as they poured over the next campaign for Y/N to know he could snap her like a twig.
“Good morning to you too, Eds,” Y/N laughed softly, wrapping her own arms around his neck as she squeezed her eyes shut. He smelled of cheap cologne and weed, a scent that had become so familiar to her that she dreamt of it sometimes. Not that she would ever admit that to anyone but her diary.
Eddie pulled back a little to look at Y/N with twinkling brown eyes and a sweet smile. “Hey there! Fancy meeting you here, doll.”
“Ready for our swimming lessons?”
Y/N could tell from the look on Eddie’s face that he was most definitely not. For a guy who always tried to play it cool and distract people with his humour, his eyes spoke words his lips never would. Y/N read him easily, perhaps too easily. When did they get this familiar with each other?
“It’ll be okay, I promise,” Y/N added, her voice honeyed as she rubbed a hand over Eddie’s bicep. He was still holding on to her, feet dangling uselessly above the ground. “I won’t let you drown.”
Eddie set Y/N down and stepped back, looking over her body slowly, from her wiggling toes in her white sneakers, to the miles of olive skin that stretched over her legs, to her tight jean-shorts and even tighter bathing suit, up to her face, and then back again. “You are going to rescue me if I go under?” Eddie dramatically sunk to his knees and sprawled on his back, head lolling to the side. “I’ll be dead in a minute.”
“Prick!” Y/N exclaimed with a laugh and dropped next to Eddie, holding her hands above his heart. “I could drag you back to land if it was a dire situation like drowning. You know how people have those strength-spells because of adrenaline?” Y/N smirked then, pushing against Eddie’s chest once where his heart resided, still beating as strongly as ever. “Besides, I know CPR.”
“CPR comes with more than just getting my heart working,” Eddie teased, pursing his lips. “Do y’know how to do this too, princess?”
Y/N pushed Eddie’s face away with a scoff. “Matter of fact, I do! But if you were really in need of air, you wouldn’t make kissy faces like that.”
Eddie suddenly lunged for Y/N and turned them around which was followed by an undignified squeal from Y/N and a loud laugh from Eddie who now hung above her with a sly smirk on his lips. The shadow he cast over Y/N protected her from the sun and gave her some much-needed cooling down which was promptly heated up again by Eddie lowering himself until he was only a hair away from lying down on her fully, his forearm coming to rest next to her head, his other arm holding her hip.
His touch was searing hot and it took Y/N everything not to blush.
It didn’t work.
But, if Eddie were to ask after the blush, she would lie and say it came from the sun. Y/N did always strategically burn along her nose and over the sides of her cheeks.
“What would I need to do then to get mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?” Eddie asked innocently, squeezing Y/N’s hip with his ring-clad fingers. His hand was big on her frame and Y/N was a little too aware of it.
“Drown,” Y/N deadpanned.
Eddie tilted his head before nodding. “Okay.”
“Okay?!”
If people hadn’t been awake already, Y/N’s screech would’ve woken the entire trailer park.
Eddie let out a short laugh and leaned closer until Y/N was struggling to breathe. “Yes, doll. Okay. If that’s what it takes, I’ll drown.”
Y/N mentally noted down this entire conversation to use later in her still-unfinished romance novel. It wouldn’t be the first time Y/N had taken an example from her real-life conversations with Eddie to use for her stories. Eddie was just a walking romance novel hero, she couldn’t help that either.
“Don’t you dare!”
“Hey, kids!”
Eddie quickly rolled off Y/N and helped her up, just in time for his uncle Wayne to open the door to their trailer and peer down at them knowingly. “Thought you were headin’ to the lake?”
“We were, Uncle, just got held up.” Eddie wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Y/N here was distracting me but we’ll be on our way now.”
Eddie threw a wink Y/N’s way which was met with yet another one of her blushes. Y/N tried to blame being on the shyer side for her scarlet cheeks, or even just Eddie being a menace to society and the entire female population but she secretly knew there was more to it. And yet, the admittance of something like being in love with your best friend was more than Y/N could handle, even if it was only to herself.
So, she pushed Eddie’s arm off which found its way around her waist instead and avoided Uncle Wayne’s eyes.
“Let’s go then,” Eddie grinned wolfishly, steering Y/N away from the trailer and Uncle Wayne and towards the lake which laid only a few minutes walk away. “The faster we get there, the sooner you save my life.”
“Wasn’t funny the first time, isn’t funny now.”
Y/N held a very real fear that Eddie was actually going to drown and there was nothing she could do. Eddie stood at a whopping 5 feet 10 which towered at least 7 inches above her. He wasn’t scrawny either, if the twirls from before were anything to go by, and Y/N realised that if Eddie went under, there wasn’t much she could do.
Eddie, noticing Y/N’s stiff posture and restless hands, squeezed her hip sweetly. “Not gonna drown on you, sweetness. I wouldn’t do that to you. I know you worry too much.”
“I worry just the right amount, thank you very much,” Y/N replied with an edge to her voice before she softened. “Don’t wanna lose you, Eds.”
The hand around her waist moved up until Eddie reached the underside of her breast. Y/N held her breath. It, thankfully and sadly, moved up her arm instead and towards her head where Eddie’s big hand laid, covering a big part of her ear, and pulled her in. Y/N’s head came to lay against his broad chest, her arms fitting nicely around his waist and though them walking like this was quite uncomfortable, Y/N relished in the closeness of their bodies.
“That’s not gonna happen,” Eddie promised. His hand brushed through her hair and Y/N prayed he wouldn’t see the goosebumps he ignited from his mere touch alone. “You’re stuck with me, doll. Get used to it.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.”
Through the trees, the glittering of water became more and more visible until there was nothing obstructing their view of the lake stretching out over the horizon, gentle waves rippling. Evergreen trees stood at the sides, stretching up to the sky. Y/N took a deep breath and inhaled the gentle scent of salt and earth.
“We need more sunblock,” she mumbled, reaching for the bottle in her duffle bag. She promptly ignored Eddie’s small huff ‘Of course, she brought goddamn sunblock’ and turned to him with the white cream coating her palm. “Come ‘ere.”
“Nope, not gonna happen,” Eddie grumbled, stumbling back a few steps with his hands outstretched. “I’m too metal for sunblock.”
“You’d rather risk walking around like a lobster?” Y/N asked, her eyebrow raised inquisitively. “It’s not very metal to waddle around, shithead.”
Eddie considered her for a moment and, with another grumble, tore off his shirt and…
Oh.
The sight before her was a work of art: muscles rippling over pale skin, a few scattered moles that made up a constellation she longed to trace with the tip of her forefinger. Eddie approached her as Y/N focused on his tattoos, wondering how many more he would get and if there would ever be one for her. Tuffs of chest hair moved tantalisingly down, disappearing underneath his swimming shorts and Y/N had to look away.
Eddie bent down then until they were on eye level, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll only wear sunblock if it’s you putting it on.”
Did he flirt with her just to embarrass her or was there more behind his words? Y/N couldn’t figure it out. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t acted on anything so far even though she definitely had opportunities to.
“Fine, you big baby,” Y/N managed to utter, saving herself from complete embarrassment. Bless her brain for letting her come up with something in response and play it semi-cool. Though, Eddie’s intense gaze that wouldn’t leave her made Y/N wonder if he had easily read her and just let her off the hook this time.
Y/N couldn’t think about it too much and decided to be grateful for small miracles instead.
Y/N stepped forward, her hands slick with sunblock, and hesitantly laid them upon Eddie's warm shoulders. His feverish gaze made her heart skip a beat, but she focused on rubbing the lotion into his skin - starting with his shoulders and working her way down his arms. She had to pour more sunblock on her hands to cover his chest too. Her hands moved quicker and quicker the more she went down. Y/N didn’t dare to get close to his swimming shorts so she made him turn around instead, ignoring his comment about him getting a sunburn on the lower half of his abdomen.
His back had tattoos Y/N hadn’t seen before. She traced the large dragon that spanned most of his spine and its wings that moved with his shoulder muscles reverently. “It’s beautiful, Eds.”
“Thank you,” he answered. Something in his voice sounded as though he had wanted to say something else.
Y/N finished with Eddie’s face, covering it with the cream in gentle strokes. Her hand lingered on his cheek ever so briefly but the intensity of Eddie’s gaze made her move further up to his forehead which she had to reach by standing on her tippy toes and sweetly moving his hair out of the way.
Eddie wrapped a steady arm around her waist when she almost fell from her tippy toes which pushed them chest to chest. Y/N wondered if he could feel her curves against him but if he did, Eddie didn’t say anything.
With gentle strokes, Y/N finished applying cream to Eddie's face, her hand lingering on his cheek ever so briefly before the intensity of his gaze urged her to move on. Standing on her tippy toes, she sweetly moved his hair out of the way to reach his forehead.
When Y/N lost her balance, Eddie wrapped a steady arm around her waist, pulling her close. Their bodies pressed together, chest to chest. She wondered if Eddie could feel her curves against him, but if he did, he didn’t mention it.
Once Eddie was covered in sunblock, Eddie turned to Y/N and nodded at her shorts. “Don’t you need sunblock as well?”
“Oh… Yeah, you’re right.” Y/N bit her lip and wiggled out of her shorts, pretending she didn’t see Eddie staring at her, a flush on his face Y/N blamed the sun for. “I can do it myself, though. Because I’m not a big, pouty baby.”
“Allow me to help you anyways, princess?” Eddie replied, ignoring her big baby comment which made the air feel thicker around them.
Eddie even bowed before her like she was truly a princess and he, her loyal servant.
It took Y/N two swallows to answer.
“Okay.”
It came out strained, barely audible, but Eddie immediately sunk to his knees before her as though she had shouted it from the rooftops and Y/N had trouble not imagining him doing this in different situations. Then Eddie dared to look up at her from beneath those long eyelashes and Y/N genuinely thought she had a sunstroke with how woozy she felt.
“Sunblock?”
“What?” Y/N answered dumbly, not able to look away from the way Eddie blinked up at her, brown eyes sparkling warmly in the sun. He licked his lips and then grinned, shaking his head.
“The sunblock, Y/N.” Eddie stuck out his hand. “I’m good with touching you without, but I don’t think you would allow me.”
You truly have no idea, do you?
“Shit, yeah, sorry,” Y/N chuckled nervously and nearly dropped the sunblock as she fumbled to get it out of her duffle bag once more, laying it in Eddie’s hand who uncapped the bottle, squirted the cream into his hands and then they were on her leg.
From her ankle, up her calve and to her thigh which easily fit between his hands. He didn’t just rub the sunblock in but kneaded which made Y/N jerk every time, ignoring the tension in her lower tummy, the warmth that coursed through her body.
Eddie’s hands were wanderers, seemingly tracking along her body as though they would find something new if they only searched well enough. Y/N would have thought this was Eddie’s first time touching a girl if she didn’t know better.
His hands moved up her hips, over the dips of her waist and up again to her ribs. With the bodysuit Y/N was wearing, she could only feel fabric, but to her, it almost felt as though he was rubbing over bare skin and Y/N was on fire.
Finally, he moved up her arms, to her shoulders and oh so gently shifted to her collarbones, massaging her. Y/N let out an involuntary sigh and closed her eyes, allowing her to enjoy his touches for this moment and this moment alone. She couldn’t keep doing this to herself, what if she fell even harder and there was no turning back?
Eddie rubbed the cream into her neck with such gentle moves, such precision, Y/N wondered if he thought of her as delicate. Eddie was all dramatic falls and hard hits on the D&D board and excited screams and running and climbing and yet he was touching her as if one too-hard touch would shatter her in his hands. Y/N liked it, liked feeling fragile and breakable, liked that Eddie showed her more care than anyone ever had.
His hands came to lay over her cheeks and Y/N finally blinked her eyes open again. She hadn’t even noticed Eddie had moved this close but there he was, towering above her once more. If she moved her face upwards their noses would brush with the way he was bent down slightly. Y/N felt the great urge to and for a moment, Y/N wondered if Eddie was coming closer, leaning in or if it was just her imagination.
And then the warm touches were gone and Y/N suddenly felt cold despite the blistering heat bearing down on her. Eddie had taken a few steps back, throwing the sunblock in the grass.
“Ready to go then?” Eddie asked, his face crumpling in confusion when Y/N held up her hand as a ‘wait, please’ signal. With trembling fingers, Y/N took out a portable radio, suddenly feeling stupid for bringing it.
“Ehm… I just thought… Maybe you would feel a little better with music? I even checked the channels and there was one with like metal songs and rock and roll and stuff and it’s… It’s really stupid, I’m sorry. I just- I shouldn’t’ve…”
Eddie took two long strides and then he had her chin in his hand, tilting it up so Y/N was forced to look up at him. “You’re an angel and I don’t deserve you.” Eddie promptly leaned down and kissed her cheek.
The butterflies raged long after the radio was placed in the grass and they were standing at the edge of the water, Eddie’s hand a clamp around Y/N’s.
“We’ll take it slow,” Y/N said soothingly, laying her free hand over Eddie’s. “We’re doing this at your pace.”
The sun made her skin prickle pleasantly, though her nose was already starting to burn despite the sunblock. The top of Y/N’s dark chocolate hair felt hot, almost unbearably so, but the sweet relief of the lake laid before her and it wouldn’t be long before she was allowed to dunk her head under and cool off again.
Y/N threw Eddie a sideways glance. His hair was kept up with one of her scrunchies, one she would most likely never see again. Eddie looked unfairly good with his hair up. Maybe she could convince him to get some earrings… He would look-
Okay, no.
Focus.
“Maybe we should sit on the side first?” Eddie croaked, his entire body shaking as he stared down at the water. Y/N immediately nodded and moved to sit down with Eddie who followed, oh so slowly.
“Better?”
Eddie nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Better.”
“Remember what I said? Paddle with your legs to stay upright and to swim you move your arms and legs in circles. If you turn on your back you will float.”
His mouth moved as though he was repeating the words back to himself and then gave her an almost imperceptible nod. “I’m ready.”
Y/N grinned and held Eddie’s hand the entire way down. She would hold his hand through anything.
The shock of the cold water made Y/N freeze briefly, remembering to paddle her legs when her chin went under.
“Hey!” Eddie exclaimed. “Don’t go drowning on me now, doll. I need you here.”
Y/N turned to Eddie and reached out with her other hand, laughing softly. “You’re doing so well, though! I don’t think you need me as much as you think you do.”
“Don’t think there will ever be a second I don’t need you,” Eddie mumbled back and squeezed her hands gently.
With some fumbling and a few exclaims, Eddie was paddling like a pro and could even swim a circle around Y/N which made her cheer so loudly a few birds flew away with affronted caws.
Eddie swam around her again, his hands gliding through the water with effortless grace. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how naked his hands looked without his rings, without the chains around his wrists. Vulnerability seeped through the cracks of his carefully crafted image. He was stripped bare before her, revealing not Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson or Eddie the Dungeon Master or even Eddie the Senior Year Repeater, but just Eddie Munson, the boy Y/N had fallen in love with.
It was a privilege to see him like this.
Had others?
Doubtfully.
Eddie got around, he really did, but when Y/N pictured Eddie in bed with other girls, bearing the sting of the thought, she couldn’t imagine him as exposed and raw as he was now. He always wore his rings and the chains around his wrists and the guitar pick around his neck. It was part of what made him attractive, to Y/N as well. But it wasn’t all that made him attractive. What made him attractive was his excited yells as he swam faster than he had before, without nearly going underwater this time. What made him attractive was the blinding smile he shot at Y/N, all boyish and broad. What made him attractive was the way he came up behind her and hooked his head over her shoulder.
“You’re in your head again,” he noted, non-accusatory as always. “Come back to me, doll.”
“I’m here,” Y/N smiled and turned quickly, daring to wrap her arms around Eddie’s shoulders. “My legs are just tired, that’s all.”
It wasn’t even a lie. Now that she said it, her legs truly did feel heavy, her muscles aching from overuse.
Eddie looked down as though he could see the exhaustion in Y/N’s legs. He nodded once and placed his hands under her thighs, prompting her to hook her legs around his hips, holding her close as he paddled his legs just as Y/N taught him.
Y/N sighed gratefully and laid her cheek on his shoulder, breathing in the washed-out smell of that cheap cologne he always wore. It had been altered, smelled even more alcoholic now, but Y/N pushed in closer anyways.
His skin was sun-warmed, a curl tickled her nose, and their bodies stuck together from the heat.
Y/N had never felt happier than she did now.
“Comfy?” Eddie asked, his voice amused. Y/N could imagine his eyes twinkling as he said it.
“So comfy,” Y/N slurred, her eyes drooping.
God, she could fall asleep like this.
Eddie’s wet hand moved to the back of her head, holding her steady. “Go sleep, baby. I’ll keep you safe.”
Y/N nodded and fell asleep with a smile and a lasting thought: That was a new one.
The sun was setting when she woke up. Her back was marked with indents of the grass she had been laying on. Her body was already dry, save for her bathing suit which always took ages to dry up. Y/N yawned and turned, smiling at Eddie who was already looking at her — eyes squinted, nose scrunched adorably at the moving sun that shone in his eyes.
“Good morning, princess,” Eddie greeted her, scooting closer until their arms brushed. Every hair on Y/N’s body stood on end, goosebumps rippling over her skin again. Eddie stopped pretending he didn’t see and traced the outline of them instead.
“You could’ve woken-“
Eddie shook his head, fingers dancing up and down her arm. “You were looking so peaceful.”
Eddie swallowed then and moved even closer. “You’re beautiful. Couldn’t bring myself to wake you.”
The blush that had finally faded after hours of being under Eddie’s ministrations returned again.
Eddie sighed and squeezed his eyes shut.
“You’ll kill me one day, doll. And it will be goddamn worth it.”
Y/N laughed nervously, shaking her head, droplets of water falling left behind by her shifting hair. “You can’t talk like that.”
“Why not?” Eddie moved impossibly closer, their noses brushing together.
“We’re friends.”
“Keep talking,” Eddie whispered, his hand moving up to lay over her cheek.
Y/N couldn’t focus, not with the way Eddie was looking at her — as though he held the world in the palm of his hand. It was too great to bear.
“I refuse to be one of the girls you fuck then throw away.”
Eddie’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “Shut up.”
“Wh-“
“Shut. Up. Y/N.”
And then he kissed her, deep, unhurried. His tongue brushed the roof of her mouth and the sound Y/N let out pushed him closer until he was rolling on top of her, one hand moving to brace the back of her head, the other enfolding her hip. His leg fitted perfectly between her own.
Pulling back, Eddie moved his hand until he was cradling her cheek once more, swiping under her eye. “You’re not one of the girls ‘I fuck then throw away’,” Eddie said, enunciating the last part. “You would never be.”
“So what then,” Y/N asked, licking her lips and this time, Eddie looked down at her lips unabashedly. A complicated expression flickered on his face before it lit up as though he just remembered he could kiss her, he already had before.
Eddie kissed her once, twice, a third time.
“You’re everything,” Eddie whispered against her lips. “You’re my everything. I want you to be my- I mean… You already are my everything but I want you…” Eddie cleared his throat. “What I’m saying is, I want you to be mine. I want to be yours, if you'll let me.”
Y/N wrapped her arms around Eddie’s neck and pulled him closer. Her leg hooked over his hip and nodded, lips slanting over Eddie in lieu of an answer. She understood what he meant and he understood what she meant without too many words.
“I didn’t even have to fake drowning,” Eddie said once he pulled back with wonder in his voice and stars in his eyes.
“Shut up, Eddie,” Y/N told him this time and kissed him again until he couldn’t breathe. She would show him a different kind of drowning, one all-consuming and way better than what the water could do for him.
That was the summer the infamous relationship between Y/N Y/L/N and Eddie Munson started. There would be many more summers after, but this one, the hottest summer of ’86, was by far the most memorable.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#eddie munson one shot#*mine
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can’t handle it (2) || jake “hangman” seresin x reader
summary: it’s your first day training for the mission, so it’s time to get your head in the game. but when a familiar face shows up, you can’t resist having a little fun…
word count: 1.6k
a/n: first of all, this gif?? give glen powell all the awards for this toothpick work, please. thank you all so much for the love on part one!! i hope you enjoy part two just as much. this one is a bit shorter but trust me i will be compensating with a much longer part three (which might be my favorite so far hehe) and as always, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!
part one // series masterlist
Waking up this morning with the awareness that Jake Seresin was only two doors down the hall brought you right back to your old days at Top Gun. The flirty, yet emptyhanded jokes about sneaking into each other’s room after room checks played in your mind as you laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling before you shook yourself out of it.
You meant what you told him last night, he couldn’t handle you. The arrogance on that man could fuel an F-18 and someone like you who needed your space to shine knew better than to let yourself get involved with him. No matter how much his smile made you melt, or his intense gaze made you feel like the only person he saw, or his relaxed sense of humor made him easy to talk to…
You needed to get up.
With a sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed. You had your first day of training ahead where you would finally get to meet the person who was going to teach you how to fly this mission. The words Phoenix said rang in your mind now: Who could they possibly get to teach you guys?
After taking a quick shower and getting dressed in your flight suit, you left your room still thinking about what this mission was going to look like.
“Ready for day one?” Phoenix called from across the hall, having been assigned the room across from yours.
You grinned. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Forgot how much these beds sucked though.”
“Ugh, yeah.” Phoenix rolled her shoulders back. “I spent ten minutes just standing under the hot water in the shower, you’d think they would treat us a little better around here.”
You made your way to the hangar where your first session would be held, seeing Hangman and Coyote come from the opposite direction. Both sets reached the doors as the same time, and Coyote made a big deal out of putting an arm out to hold Hangman back from entering the room.
“Ladies first.” He said, dropping into a bow.
“Nice to know someone has class around here.” You said, with a smirk directed at Hangman.
“Well, I wouldn’t want you to think I treated you any different than anyone else, darlin’.” His gaze was set on you and you couldn’t help but notice how the green in his eyes complemented the green in his flight suit.
“Oh trust me, no one thinks that.” You patted his chest before giving Coyote a nod.
Hangman only gave you that look that let you know he was biting back a smile as you walked past him into the makeshift classroom before following behind.
“You disgust me.” Phoenix muttered as you took two seats in the middle row.
“Appreciate it.” You grinned, then stood at attention when you noticed the admirals entering the hangar.
Everyone sat as Admiral Bates took the stand to introduce your instructor. A Top Gun graduate, who was a highly decorated captain. You turned as you heard footsteps coming down the aisle and watched as a man carrying a booklet walked towards the front of the room. Your brows furrowed as you tried to place him in your mind; you could swear you’ve seen him before.
It wasn’t until you shifted your eyes to Hangman a few seats in front of you and saw him groan, a defeated look on his face, that it clicked. Your new instructor was the man he had quite literally tossed out from The Hard Deck last night. You couldn’t help but smile, looking down at your desk as you held back a laugh.
Maverick grinned at Hangman and Coyote and they gave him sheepish smiles in return while you tried not to enjoy the moment too much. You shared a look with Phoenix and she furrowed her eyebrows in question and you shook your head, signaling that you would tell her later. This was too good.
You couldn’t help but let your gaze drift to the other side of the room during the lecture a few times, telling yourself you simply wanted to watch Hangman’s reactions to Maverick being the man who was going to prepare him for this mission.
But that quickly went out the window the second he pulled out that damn toothpick, placing it between his teeth with a confident smile. The way he worked it in his mouth let you know that he knew he was hot shit.
God, it was aggravating.
“...that will come down to the man or woman in the box.” Maverick was saying when you tuned back into his words.
At that, Hangman turned his head to look at you and Phoenix with a raised eyebrow. Phoenix subtly flipped him the middle finger while you just rolled your eyes. As much shit as he gave everyone, you knew he respected you and Phoenix as pilots. It didn’t stop Hangman from being, well, Hangman.
Nor did it stop you from noticing the way he shifted the toothpick to the side of his mouth when he looked back at you, his tongue working overtime to get that placing right. You wondered if there was some douchebag school where hot assholes learned tricks like these. They must be getting this material from somewhere.
You forced yourself to focus on Maverick’s words, refusing to give Seresin any more attention. From what you gathered, you would be working on dogfighting today. You couldn’t remember the last time you had an in-depth course on dogfighting, not when there’s hardly been any takedowns in the last thirty years. You could also tell that your superiors were not too happy about this arrangement either. This made Maverick being your instructor a lot more interesting and made you like him a whole lot more. This was not going to be your everyday training.
When you were finally dismissed, you waited by your desk as Phoenix left the hangar, waiting behind for Hangman.
“Looks like someone’s already in hot water with teacher.” You singsonged, keeping pace with him.
“Oh, shut up.” He said, glancing to the side at you before continuing forward.
“Aren’t you from Texas—where’s that Southern hospitality? That’s no way to talk to a lady, now is it?” You goaded him, now walking backwards in front of him with a big smile on your face.
He stopped, looking down at you and you only brightened your smile.
“Tell me, do you think Maverick will shoot you down today to get back at you or let you off the hook?” You inquired.
You got a full bellied laugh at that one. “You’re having way too much fun with this, aren’t you?”
“It’s not every day you get to say you watched your instructor get thrown out of a bar by a fellow colleague.” You shrugged.
“Just my luck, am I right?” He huffed out a laugh, looking over your shoulder.
He suddenly didn’t seem as relaxed as he was before, his body tense as you could tell his mind was working, trying to figure out the gravity of what he had done and what it could mean for him. It was unusual to see Hangman ruffled in any way and you decided you didn’t like it. At all.
“Hey,” You grab his arm softly, forcing him to look back down at you. “You know I was only teasing, right? I doubt he’s going to hold last night against you.”
His eyes softened, just a bit. “Yeah, yeah I know. I just…I need to go on this mission. Can’t risk screwing up, you know?” He tried to keep up the lighthearted tone, but you could tell there was something lingering underneath. A heaviness he tried to keep out of his words.
“You’re going to be fine.” You made sure he could see the sincerity in your eyes. Once you were sure he knew you were serious, you turned the conversation around. “Though, I can’t guarantee you that spot since you are going up against me.”
The smile returned to his face, albeit slowly and you backed up, releasing his arm as you started towards the planes. Shaking his head, he followed you, smile growing as you kept going.
You felt proud that you were able to lift his spirits even a little bit. Hangman may be arrogant, but he was also a good friend to you. Seeing him in that state didn’t suit him and it only felt right taht you helped him get out of it. You could only hope that—
You jolted as you backed into someone, the person letting out a shocked sound. Spinning around, you came face to face with Maverick, who only looked amused.
“Captain!” You swore in your head. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve been looking where I was going.”
“Yes, you should have.” He looked over your shoulder at Hangman, then back at you. “Get yourselves ready, first team goes up in twenty.”
“Yes, sir.” Maverick gave you both a parting smile before exiting and you released a breath.
You couldn’t believe you just did that. It made sense now why Hangman had been smiling so big and you vowed to shoot him down yourself if Maverick didn’t get the chance. You whirled on him. “You couldn’t have warned me?”
“Whoops,” He said with a grin as he walked past you. “Looks like we’re on even playing field now. And hey, you were right: I already feel so much better!”
“Asshole!” You called after him, brushing off the embarrassment.
You couldn’t wait to get in your plane and get through the exercise. You were just about ready for this day to be over.
taglist: @americaarse @insideafictionaluniverse @emotionalbruv @levylovegood @letusbewildflowers @roses-and-grasses @words-4u @maggieromanov @yuhnosdominion @ollyoxenfrees @rule107 @callalily2000 @atrxidxs
#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#hangman x reader#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin#hangman#top gun#top gun maverick#glen powell#jake seresin imagine#hangman imagine#jake seresin x you#hangman x you#cant handle it fic
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Part of the New Worlds collab by @enaus.
Inspired by the 2011 South Korean drama Dream High. For every time Jay Park ruined your life, he gave you a lollipop. Of course, he gave it to you anonymously, because how embarrassing would it be if people found out that the legendary trainee Jay Park gave lollipops to the girl whose life he kept ruining?
.: 6.9k words .:. female reader .:. enemies to lovers .:. fluff, angst(?) :.
.: tw: mature language :.
.: masterlist :.
The time he ruined your audition.
On the day that Jay Park muttered an emotionless and unapologetic “oops” in your ear during Kirin Arts High School’s auditions, approximately one minute and thirty-seven seconds before your own, you decided that he was put on this earth solely to ruin your life.
And really, you would’ve forgiven him if he’d just shown even just a sliver of remorse.
But an “oops”?
“So you just spill coffee on people for fun?” you’d asked, hissing from the heat of the coffee and the shock of the large figure crashing into you as you made your way around a corner. You couldn’t even think about the words before they just exited your mouth.
“So you just bump into people for fun?” his deep voice replied, matching your tone.
“I feel like I’m getting a third-degree burn as we speak!”
“Well, your blouse looks better brown anyways.”
You look up and meet eyes with dark ones piercing almost right into your soul. A quick up and down glance tells you all you need to know about the devil incarnate standing in front of you with an empty paper cup in his hand. With an arched brow, an all-black outfit, and dark hair pulled into a slight man bun, you just knew that he’d be the bane of your existence at Kirin Arts High School.
A small price to pay to achieve your dreams.
Because ever since you were a little girl, Kirin had been your dream.
Sure, getting to be rich and famous through music was cool and all and a renowned art school would certainly help, but beyond that, you’ve just always loved music ever since your parents got you a cat piano on your third birthday. You’re not necessarily a prodigy, but you’ve never spent your free time not working on a song. And with a family just barely middle-class, you’ve never had the opportunity to properly train as a musician, teaching yourself off of YouTube and free trials on the app store.
You used your words and your music to tell your stories, and all you’ve ever wanted was to do it for, well, ever.
So with no other dream or path as desirable to you, Kirin was perfect. An arts school, free, so long as you pass your audition.
And you did.
But you almost didn’t.
With shattered energy and redirected focus, you walked into the audition room, glassy-eyed and frustrated. And while you’d normally be able to fake it, you looked like a mess too considering your blouse (a favourite of yours that your mom personally thrift-flipped for you) used to be eggshell white.
But you’re you, and you don’t let coffee stains ruin your plans.
So you smile brightly, introduce yourself, and sing to your guitar the song you wrote when you were thirteen.
Someday, the tears will stop falling
Someday, the light will come in
The sun rays will dry my cheeks and stop the dark
Walking out of your audition, you weren’t as confident as you wish you could’ve been. You know for a fact you missed a chord or two, and a particular vocal run went just a little flat, still having to stop yourself from reacting at the remaining heat on your chest.
When you got an email from Kirin a few weeks later, your heart dropped when they’d informed you that you were simply waitlisted. And since you’d been so confident on your way into the audition, you knew the blame could only go to the then-stranger in all-black who’d spilled his coffee and didn’t even have the heart to apologise.
Of course, you were eventually accepted, and while things were quiet on your first day of classes, you received your first secret supporter lollipop the morning after.
A pastel spiral lollipop taped to the front of your locker, surrounded by heart stickers.
From someone whose identity was always a mystery to you.
From, well, a then-stranger.
The time he ruined your self-esteem.
Unapologetic all-black coffee-drinker is in your dance course right before lunch.
You noticed him for the first time during your second week of classes, since he’d gotten a fresh undercut and looked different in the Kirin uniform, but you forced yourself to pay no mind. You aren’t at Kirin to make enemies, and since he’s here, you figured he was here for his dreams just like you. You decide that the one incident from a day in which he must’ve been particularly stressed out should not define his character.
And things were civil for a while, since it was easy enough to avoid each other in a class of twenty-seven.
However, on the day that you were set to be assessed on a routine in front of the whole class, you couldn’t ignore him any longer.
Since you’ve never been much of a dancer, you were essentially just hoping to walk out of the class with a passing grade since the dance credits are mandatory for all students. So with your new friend Yunjin Huh’s help, you walked into the dance room confidently for the assessment.
Calling for students to perform in trios, you kept yourself thinking positively, running through the moves in your head one last time before it was your turn. And when your trio gets called to perform, you handle yourself just fine, knowing well you might’ve missed a detail or two but that you were generally rhythmic and presentable.
You learn his name then, when his own trio is called to perform.
Jay Park.
He danced well, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes because he, quite frankly, did more than dance well. Jay Park was born to be a star, but you suppose most of the other students were too.
It’s when the bell rings at the end of the class that you decide to make your final opinion on Jay Park. A person with that much talent and that (upsettingly) much visual was naturally cursed with a shit attitude; an imperfection on his otherwise perfect image. As you, along with the other students, begin to collect your things and head for the next period, you overhear something you wished you’d never heard.
Looking back, you can’t even remember the exact words that had left his mouth. You think he may have called you stiff? Whatever he said, it doesn’t matter.
What matters is that you never walked into another dance class with your head up. What matters is that whatever he may or may not have muttered under his breath to his best friend Sunghoon Park took all of your confidence in yourself. What matters is that whatever he said, he’d laughed afterwards, at you.
What matters is that you took it as his way of saying you didn’t deserve to be here at Kirin with the rest of them - idol wannabes and trainees, because you weren’t a dancer.
Jay Park, on the other hand, was a natural performer who had the most secure sense of self you’d ever seen in a young teen. He was sure of himself in every syllable he recited and every move his body made, beyond just the musical sense. He never seemed to question himself or his decisions, as opposed to you, who moved with care and deliberate, yet hesitant intention.
You were never meant to mix.
Halfway through the semester, while you were heading to the cafeteria for lunch, Jay Park interrupted your stroll with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. “Hi there.”
You take a moment to realise that he was in fact greeting you. “Bye there.”
“Okay, wait,” he calls out, reaching for your arm as you tried to walk past him. “I know we’re not really friends, but Miss Hyo has told me that you need a… little help with finals coming up.”
And at that, you can’t help but scoff. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“This, to be clear, is Miss Hyo’s fault for not telling you she thinks you need help.”
“And you think I need help too?” You stop and turn to him, directly confronting him in a way you didn’t think you had the confidence for.
Jay takes a moment to respond, grimacing before nodding confidently. “Everyone needs help.”
Rolling your eyes, you brush past him, proudly muttering “asshole”. Safe to say, you rejected his offer.
By the end of that first semester, you have to admit, you’d almost given up, but with Yunjin by your side, you were at least prepared well enough for the final assessment. “Out of every exam I’ve ever taken in my life, I’ve never been so nervous,” you admitted, tugging at the straps of your backpack while waiting in the hallways for the teacher to arrive.
“We’ve practised the routines for weeks, girl! We’ve got this,” Yunjin smiles, cheering you on as she does.
And as you express gratitude towards your best friend, you hear a low whisper from behind you snickering. “Of course she’s nervous.”
You can’t help but whip your head around and you can’t be surprised when you spot Jay Park with a condescending smirk plastered across his face, leaning against the wall with hands in pocket as he’s whispering (perhaps more demeaning comments) to Sunghoon.
And suddenly, the words are out of your mouth before you even thought them.
“I’m sorry, do you have something you’d like to say to me?”
His eyes roll, and it must be the first time you’ve made eye contact since the first time you met at the auditions. “Are you speaking to me?”
“Well, you were certainly speaking about me,” you continue. From behind you, you feel an arm tug at your shift sleeve; Yunjin trying to stop you, but you are not backing down. “Is it funny that some of us are not prodigies like you?”
“Well that’s really not my fault now is it?” he smiled in a condescending manner. The things you would do to rip it off his face.
Feeling Yunjin continuing to tug at your sleeve, you rip your arm away from her grasp, walking right up to Jay. “How about you say all those things you were whispering about me to my face, Park?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he steps closer to you. “There truly are a lot of things I’d like to say to you.”
“Break it up, lovebirds,” the dance instructor physically pushes past the two of you, rolling her eyes as she sticks her key in the classroom lock to let her class in. “Fighting won’t prepare you for finals.”
You receive your second pastel spiral lollipop on the following day, the last day of your first semester at Kirin High School.
And when you come back on the first day back after winter break, you receive your third, and a new one every morning after.
The time he ruined your music.
All things considered, your day had been going pretty well. Normal stresses of schoolwork aside, you were ahead on your assignments for the week and Yunjin brought homemade cookies during lunch that she naturally shared with you (they were incredible). She often tries to buy your love with food, jokingly competing with your secret admirer whose identity she’s been placing bets on.
Nevertheless, on this particular Tuesday, you were scheduled to have a free period after lunch - a free period you shared with one Jay Park, which, more often than not, resulted in some events you’d wished hadn’t happened at all. There was one particular incident, however, that sticks out amongst all that occurred during those Tuesday afternoons.
Hoping to avoid him, and additionally get a little productive, you’d locked yourself away in the music room (the seventh one on the third floor), working diligently on a piece for a composition class.
Out of every course offered by Kirin, composition was your strong suit, and it was also what you loved the most. You poured your heart into every piece, and this one was no different. Besides, this particular project was an opportunity to submit songs to real recording artists, and while many of the songs written in this class don’t ever get to see the light of day the idea to even be considered by a label meant the absolute world to you.
But as with every good workflow, you needed a break to relieve yourself in the washroom.
You make a habit after this day to take your things everywhere you go.
Because not seven minutes later, you find yourself returning to orange juice-soaked music sheets and Jake Shim, an Australian exchange student, standing shocked, next to none other than Jay Park with an empty paper cup in hand.
“I swear this is not what it looks like-”
“Then what is it, Park?” You interrupt him, because after over a year of his constant bullshit, you’re tired of the excuses. “Because it’s been five fucking minutes and my music’s on the ground.”
Jake Shim, on the other hand, looks stressed out of his mind, and while he may be a new student, he’s already familiar with the tension between you two. “Jay really didn’t-”
“This is between Park and I.”
“Don’t dump on Jake for something I did!”
“So you did do it? Good, Park! You’re finally taking fucking accountability!”
But instead of yelling right back, the boy in front of you stays silent, and you find yourself surprisingly taken aback. It’s the first time you think you’ve seen a genuinely apologetic look in his eyes. Of all his shenanigans and all the times that you’ve berated him for them, it’s the first time you almost want to hear him out.
Almost.
And in a lower tone, he says, “Look, I didn’t mean-”
“Save it.”
You don’t have the energy right now. Your song is ruined and so are any chances of you ever forgiving Jay Park now.
Avoiding direct eye contact, you straighten your back and walk over, eyes trained on the oranging sheets on the ground, hoping they can be salvaged somehow. Getting on your knees to pick them up, you see that the graphite of your pencil doesn’t mix well with the drink and you have to blink away tears.
From above you, you sense Jay bending down to reach your level. “Let me help.”
“No, just… go. It’s okay.”
“But it’s not okay,” he whispers from above you, and there you have it, a teardrop slips.
Clearing your throat, you finish stacking the papers and stand up to face the two. “No, Park,” you sighed. “It isn’t.” And though you swore to yourself that you would never let Jay Park see you cry, you can’t help but get emotional. “God, I-” you gulp. “I knew you hated me but I didn’t think you’d actually ruin this for me.”
Making a show of shoving the pages into the trash can, you collect the rest of your things and stomp out of the room. You skip your final class and go home early. You have a new song written by midnight.
The first one you’ve written out of so much malice.
You end up selling the song to some indie rock band, and to your surprise, the song begins to do well in underground music circles. Part of you wishes you kept it, wondering if it had been your voice and face attached to the track if it would’ve done as well, but you’re proud of it regardless. You really might have a future in music after all.
You receive your first note from your then-stranger secret supporter the morning after the orange juice incident. Just a yellow post-it note on top of yet another pastel spiral lollipop. Handwritten.
Your music is beautiful.
After particularly difficult days, you begin receiving more. Just short messages of supportive strength. Nothing to indicate identity, romantic interest, or malicious intent. Simply sincere words of love.
The time he ruined your perception.
Every student at Kirin envies and vies for one particular position, voted for and granted by the Kirin staff - kind of like how valedictorians work in regular schools. Graduating from Kirin means you have to participate in the graduating class showcase during which two students - one female, one male - are selected to be highlighted performers for all of the attending talent agents and producers to scout.
And of course, as fate would have it, you and asshole Jay Park are your graduating class’ top students.
Which, considering your individual strengths, meant that you had to write a song for star performer (and apparent future of Kpop) Jay Park. And while the school directors clearly preferred the idea of a Jay solo, you wouldn’t let up and wrote up a duet. After all, the idea of the valedictorian showcase was for you both to shine and you would never forgive yourself if you were the reason Jay Park succeeded.
In the months leading up to the performance, you had to spend hours after school and on weekends with Jay Park alongside the rest of your graduating class who had their own roles for the showcase. You were never much of a dancer, so you spent most of your free periods working with Nishimura Riki, the resident dance prodigy and choreographer, and received extra image training with Yunjin and Kim Sunoo, arguably the two with the most stage presence in your class.
Aside from the scheduled practices with Jay, you did your best to avoid him. Since the prior year’s incident with your music, you just couldn’t look at him the same and decided that the showcase performance couldn’t change anything. Though Jake Shim did go out of his way to explain that he was chasing Jay around the building (during which he was holding orange juice) and apologise, everything else combined was just too much to move past. The damage had been done.
Besides, you figured he wouldn’t need as much practice as you since the whole performing thing came much more naturally to him. So it certainly came as a shock to you when, on a chilly Thursday morning when you’d decided to come to school early to work on extra music, you spotted Jay already breaking a sweat in a dance room, running through your routine alone.
Through the window in the door, you quietly watched as he slowed down every move, taking particular care in every detail and embodying it. He repeated each one meticulously, shaking his head when it didn’t feel right and patiently going through it again. No amount of blind hatred and disgust could take away the fact that there truly was much to admire about Jay Park.
And at first, you genuinely thought he was just some arrogant douchebag, meant to be the next It Boy of the industry considering he seemed to be granted every gift under the sun. Having this chance now to watch him practice so diligently and so sincerely for the first time changes your mind. You hate it; because now, there’s yet another reason to admire the man who repeatedly destroyed your life.
“You can come in, you know?”
Blinking back to reality, you open your eyes to see that Jay is smirking- no. Jay is smiling at you through the window of the door, opening it and stepping aside to welcome you in. Hesitantly, you follow him into the dance room.
“We have about forty minutes left until the first period, so we can run through some of the choreography if you’d like,” he offers, not a hint of malice in his tone as he starts tapping on a tablet with the choreography video loaded up. When he doesn’t hear your reply, he looks up at you. “You can put your backpack over there next to my stuff.”
The eye contact is too much and you look away. “I just don’t think I can-”
“Well, we’ll do warm-ups first of course!” His voice is so kind. “I know you just got here so we can stretch a little before we get to rehearsing-”
“I mean that I can’t be here,” you interrupt him. “With you. Dancing.” It might be too blunt, too honest, but you can’t pretend like you’re just best friends after everything.
Jay’s eyebrows furrow, putting the tablet down on the table next to him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we do just fine during the scheduled rehearsals, so I don’t think we necessarily need extra practice… together,” you fumble through your words, hoping he just accepts your excuse. You just don’t want to- can’t dance with him. “I have to go rework the arrangement of the dance break anyways. It’s why I showed up early.”
“Is this about our first year?”
Your mind blanks.
“What?”
For a moment, you think Jay and you are finally gonna have at it with one another, yelling and kicking and screaming at one another about everything that’s transpired between you two. Instead, Jay takes a deep breath and looks down. “Nevermind. Riki’ll want to hear the new version of the dance break as soon as possible. I won’t interrupt you.”
Losing your mind over whatever the fuck just transpired, you give him an awkward nod and turn to leave the room when Jay talks again. “What are your plans?”
You turn back around with genuine confusion. “Um, the dance break has little room for unique moves so-”
“I meant for post-secondary? If you don’t mind me asking,” Jay’s voice trails off. He’s never showed an interest in you like this before.
Sighing, you cross your arms in front of you defensively. “I got accepted early into the music department at a few different universities. Haven’t made my final choice yet though because I’m hoping…” You don’t continue your sentence when you realise what you were just about to admit to Jay Park of all people, though you don’t need to say it out loud for him to get the picture.
The graduation showcase.
With all of those talent scouts, producers, and potential employers sitting in the crowd.
Clearing your throat, you look up at Jay who seems to have slouched over in thought. “What about you? You’ve had agencies lined up since you were like twelve, right?”
Jay snorts at that, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, but my parents wanted me to focus on education first.”
“Wow,” you mutter. “You’re telling me I get to perform with someone who could’ve been an idol this whole time,” you continue sarcastically.
“And I get to sing a song written by you,” he replies sincerely, and you feel something odd turn inside of you. “So I guess we’re both lucky.”
You inhale deeply to dodge the way that makes you feel. “So it’s the showcase for you too then?”
At that, he shakes his head. “I’m with Belift Lab actually, which I’m technically not allowed to share,” he admits with a wink that makes you roll your eyes. “I make my debut in November if all goes well.”
You should’ve known he was a trainee - the way he’s looked paler, and even skinnier despite working out more. You’ve noticed the darker bags under his eyes and the way he pants harder after dancing. You just also happened to notice that every dance move never went uncared for, every facial expression so detailed and curated for the stage, every note he sang hit perfectly. It’s all a sign of his hard work and exasperation, but also of his passion and genuine love of performing.
So, you smile at the news. Sincerely. “I’m happy for you, Park.”
“Thank you,” Jay replies.
And for a moment, you two stand together in comfortable silence before you clear your throat. “Anyways, that dance break isn’t gonna write itself,” you comment with an awkward chuckle that he mirrors.
“Good luck,” he smiles, watching as you leave. “Wait!”
You whip back around. “Yes?”
“I understand if you don’t want to, but I really would like to get some extra practice with just us two? If that’s okay?” Jay stutters out and you almost find it endearing. “I mean, with all the training I’m doing, I’m a lot less familiar with the song than, well, you since you wrote it. And um,” he pauses. “I can help you with the dance, but only if you want.”
If this was his way of apologising, you think you might have to accept. “Just, um, please be patient with me. I’m in no way as good as you so-”
“Of course! Yes!” he immediately exclaims in an almost excitable puppy-like way. “We can take all the time in the world that you need.”
You leave the dance room shortly after that, heading up to the second floor recording studio where you most enjoy producing. Before you get there however, you stop by your locker to drop off a couple textbooks when you notice there’s already yet another pastel spiral lollipop taped to the front of it.
Your heart stops.
Because while you two aren’t the only people in the school who arrived this early, he’s the only other senior - the only other person who could have left that first candy on your second day at Kirin Arts High School.
Your then-stranger secret supporter that Yunjin insisted was an admirer.
Jay Park.
The time he ruined your dream.
For every time Jay Park ruined your life, he gave you a lollipop.
Of course, he gave it to you anonymously, because how embarrassing would it be if people found out that the legendary trainee Jay Park gave lollipops to the girl whose life he kept ruining?
And of course, in Jay Park fashion, he’d successfully kept it a well-hidden secret right until the night of Kirin Arts High School’ graduation showcase, just minutes after you finished your performance together.
You’d been so focused on your studies and your music for the past three years, silently grateful for your secret supporter’s lollipops and adamantly ignoring Jay Park’s quiet kindness.
“Here you go,” he muttered in your ear, shoving the pastel spiral lollipop in your hand.
“Wha-”
“You can eat it now that we’re done performing.”
You look down at the candy. “Jay-”
“I was gonna give you one this morning but I thought it might mess up your throat and all that, so here it is! For a job well done!”
Ever since you’d both been the only seniors to show up to school early and you’d found a lollipop on your locker, you immediately suspected it was Jay. You, however, immediately wanted to throw up at the idea, hence, you tried to think of every excuse under the sun to explain how it could be literally anyone else.
Maybe a friend of Jay’s asked him to do it for him on that particular day. Maybe your admirer tapes the lollipops after school so they don’t have to come early in the morning. Maybe they came super early and left early only to come back later as an alibi.
Anything to dispel the idea that Jay Park was the reason you continued to believe in yourself.
Because in every pastel spiral lollipop came a little more hope that, at the very least, all of your hard work and care had a purpose. That at least one person out there was listening to your music. That at least one person wanted to see you succeed. That at least one person believed in you, and so you should believe in yourself too.
For that one person to be the one who ruined your audition, the one who ruined your self confidence, the one who ruined your song… It felt wrong.
It felt like a betrayal.
Because despite the past few weeks of your budding (friendship?) tolerance of one another, the confirmation of his years-long admiration and support of you turned your world upside down.
It did upset you when you arrived at the school that morning to a lollipop-less locker, but you’d brushed it aside knowing that your admirer was perhaps just busy with their own tasks for the showcase. You didn’t picture you would find out like this, though.
“Park, what the hell is this?” you couldn’t help the words that came out of your mouth.
“It’s a lollipop,” he answered, eyes sincerely sparkling.
After closing out the showcase successfully (and to a standing ovation no less), you both ran off stage, hugging each other tightly without even thinking about it before hugging and celebrating with the rest of the performers and crew. He’d whispered a kind “you deserve this” in your ear before pulling away. You didn’t even get a chance to thank him, much less ask what he meant by what you deserved.
It’s about an hour after the showcase’s closing, after entertaining family and friends from the audience as well as a handful of interested producers and agents, that he gives you the lollipop while cleaning out your remaining belongings from the dressing rooms and lockers.
“I know it’s a fucking lollipop,” you replied, making a face to which he only smiled wider.
“Well, you know, it’s a gift!”
“A gift?” you retort, flabbergasted with his bright nonchalance. “Park, I have been-”
“Excuse me?” A man’s voice interrupts your conversation, and you both turn to the much older man in a suit approaching. “You two were tonight’s highlighted students, yes?” After confirming your names with the man, he smiles, pulling out two business cards. “You might recognize me as Bang Si-Hyuk. I’m a producer at BigHit Entertainment.”
Your heart is about to burst, as evidenced by the sincerely flabbergasted expression on your face. “Yes. Hi. Hello. It’s incredible to meet you sir,” you smile brightly, the thought of Jay Park wiping from your mind though he greets him too (in a much calmer manner, good for him).
“I’m sure I’m not the first to approach you tonight.” He isn’t, though he’s certainly among the most prolific. “So let’s skip the chit-chat. I’d like to speak with you both about your futures. What now after Kirin?”
Jay takes the lead on the conversation. “I’m grateful for the recognition, sir, but I’m actually set to debut by the end of the year.”
With a slightly disheartened look on the producer’s face, he turns to you questioningly. “I’m unsigned, sir.”
“And what makes you different?”
“Pardon?”
“Without Jay, why should I still sign you?”
You gulp nervously, glancing over at Jay who gives you an encouraging smile. And with a deep breath, you answer, “I’ve always been a musician. Prior to my time here at Kirin , I primarily identified as a songwriter, but given the opportunity, I’d love to just write and produce for, well, ever.”
The established producer thoughtfully nods to himself, grimacing disappointedly. “Frankly, I was looking forward to securing you both as a team, but you have my card.” With that, he bows politely, which you and Jay return, turning around and heading towards the door.
And he would have left too, if Jay had kept his mouth shut.
“She deserves more than that,” he calls out, stopping the producer in his tracks. “Respectfully.”
Bang PD turns around with an unamused look in his face. With a defeated sigh, he crosses his arms. “Elaborate.”
Taken aback by the situation, you are rendered speechless as Jay only continues to respond to the producer. “You already know just how talented she is after tonight, but beyond that, she has never been anything but forgiving and understanding,” he starts and already you feel moved to tears. “There is no one more passionate and more hardworking than her and quite frankly, it’d be a waste to give up on her just because we can’t come as a package deal.”
“Jay…”
“She is a star all on her own and if you can’t see that, then this moment will be the biggest regret of your life because she’s gonna prove you wrong,” he states, with more vigour and conviction than you’ve ever heard him speak. “Sir.”
If you thought you had a chance to audition with BigHit before, you certainly don’t have one anymore.
Or at least, that’s what you thought.
Bang PD chuckled to himself, straightening the lapel of his blazer before clearing his throat. “My biggest regret of tonight is not being able to convince you to sign with Bighit, Mr. Park, after quite the speech,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’re a personality that will certainly go far. But,” he thn pauses dramatically, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest. “My second biggest would be to let this young woman go.”
You blink. “Excuse me?”
Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he types in a few details before offering the phone to you. “Are you sure you only want to become a producer?”
“And performer!” Jay answers for you enthusiastically, as you shake and type in your contact. “A face like that should be on stage, don’t you think sir?”
“Don’t push it Park,” he grimaces, accepting his phone back from you. “You can think about it for the time being, but we’ll reach you by the end of the month. Have a wonderful graduation and happy graduation.”
Once he takes his final leave from the room, your mind recounts all that has occurred within the past few minutes, taken aback by everything thrown your way all in a single instance.
“Park-”
“You were calling me ‘Jay’ just now, actually,” he smugly points out, holding his arms out as if expecting a hug from you. “Can we get back to that?”
Swatting his arms away, to which he pouts, you shake your head in confusion. “Okay Jay,” you comply. “What the fuck was all that?”
“All what?” he gives you a dimpled smile and you have to stop yourself from smiling in return out of all the excitement.
“You-” You’re not quite sure what you’re accusing him of anymore. “Bang Si-hyuk just offered me a contract.”
“That you deserve,” he nodded in a matter-of-factly manner.
“An artist contract, Park,” you clarified.
He smirks proudly, clearing his throat and standing straighter. “That you deserve,” he repeats.
“I never wanted to be on stage. I just wanted to write my music and-”
“Then why did you keep taking dance classes?” His question is so out of nowhere that you pause. “It was only required in our first year.”
Shaking your head, you frown. “Yunjin and I wanted to take the same classes.”
“Okay, then why did you write a duet when the only requirement was for me to perform it?” Fair point. “I know more than anyone that you hated rehearsing with me.”
“I did.”
“Why did you come to Kirin at all?”
“Because I love music, just like everyone else here.”
“Just as much as you love the stage and you are kidding yourself if you don’t think that’s true.”
You pause for a moment, looking Jay in his equally tired and excited eyes.
He was always so sure of himself, feeling every emotion to its’ extremity and acting confidently no matter what the situation. It’s how you know he wasn’t lying or exaggerating any of what he said. It’s how you recognize his unhesitant sincerity despite your unhealthy history together.
Jay Park has always been blunt, unapologetic, and forward.
And you?
Scared.
“You didn’t have to…”
He laughs, eyes crinkling up into little half-moons. “I didn’t have to give you all those lollipops, which by the way, ended up being quite the financial investment, but I committed anyways.”
You smile at that. The lollipops were quite pretty. “Why?”
“At first, because I didn’t know how to say sorry. My audition didn’t go as well as I'd hoped so I snapped at you,” Jay admitted, looking away from you guiltily for a moment. Oh. “And then there was our first-year dance class. I really fucked up that one.”
Remembering all that occurred, you crossed your arms, insecurities coming back all at once. “Have an excuse for that one?”
“Not an excuse,” he said. “An apology. I’m sorry I made comments about your dancing. That was not fair to you, and I’m sure it sounded worse not being in the conversation.”
“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty,” you admitted quietly, avoiding his eyes.
“I understand,” he nods, and you feel your heart skip a beat with his genuineness. “I was insensitive, but I really did just wanna help.” And thinking back to how he asked you just a few weeks prior to rehearse together, you realise that he truly has grown from then.
Clearing his throat and straightening his posture, Jay meets your eyes. “And for every other shitty incident I dragged you into, I really am sorry. I just… I wanted see you succeed. I still do.”
“You know, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have written that song last year,” you shyly admit.
“The one that got picked up by ‘The Rose’? God, I left it on replay for weeks!” Jay replies, hearts in his eyes when you mentioned your song. “Although, thinking about the lyrics now… It’s okay. I deserve it.”
You laugh together.
And when you look shyly down at your feet, you notice for the first time that your fingers are still playing with today’s plastic-wrapped pastel spiral lollipop. It reminds you of all the hope and support you felt you received, even from the then-stranger.
“You kept giving me lollipops. Even if there was nothing to be sorry for…”
Jay sighs, leaning his weight against a table behind him. “I was planning to apologise at the auditions, actually.” And everything would’ve been resolved right away. “I waited outside the room, and I heard you sing. What you wrote. And I don’t know, I guess I was just overwhelmed.”
You step closer. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not a writer, you know?” he starts. “I don’t really have any clue what stories to tell, much less how to do so. And your voice, my god, don’t get me started. I could listen to you sing forever.”
“How did I not know this?”
“I was embarrassed. I was a dick who did badly in an audition and took it out on a stranger, who apparently is like a musical goddess, so when I got in, I spent the first day scanning the halls for your locker. And you just, I don’t know, deserved a gift.”
“Everyday?”
“Everyday.”
You take slow steps towards Jay Park, who you’ve always known but have only now just met, and tackle him with a hug, snuggling into his chest. “What is wrong with you?”
His arms hold you tighter, planting a soft kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m in love with you.”
You can’t say you’re surprised although it’s a shift to hear out loud.
In the years leading up to graduation, he may have been an absolute menace, but perhaps Sunghoon and Yunjin were right to tease you about Jay’s actions. He always seemed to end up sitting next to you in classes or teaming with you in group projects despite your desperate attempts to avoid him. He initiated every conversation pretending the last time that you’d cursed at him never happened, willing to start anew.
In the weeks leading up to the showcase, you spent an hour before school, lunches, and most of the evening everyday rehearsing together. Though mostly in the professional manner, all that time with another person who shares your dream results in hours that drift away talking and anything and everything. It’s magical having someone to share that kind of love with. Plus, he served as a fantastic dance coach.
And in the hours, minutes leading up to your stage together, Jay Park never left your side, wordlessly standing by you to make sure you didn’t let your nerves get to you the way they did during your first-year dance class.
You are, however, surprised that you aren’t appalled.
You pull back just slightly to look him in the eyes, searching for any hesitance. You find only sincerity. “Don’t worry. I don’t really think that’s a bad thing.”
“You’re... debuting soon.”
Jay shrugs. “If you’ll wait, I will.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
“No.”
“I do.”
“No, I-”
“You?”
You pull apart. You run your hands through his hair. It’s soft. You smile. “You’ll be amazing.” It’s true. He will be. “And the rest of the world finally gets to find out.”
He smirks, fingers beginning to run through your hair. “Mhmm,” he nods. “Along with all these girls who’ll be all over me...”
“You know I haven’t told you if I return your feelings, right?” you point out, arching an eyebrow to his shocked face. “What makes you think I’d be jealous?”
Jay shuts his dropped jaw, clearing his throat before looking down at your arms still wrapped around his torso. “You haven’t let go.”
And though you didn’t realise it, it’s fine with you. “I don’t want to.”
“I guess I’ll see you at, like, Music Bank at some point?” Jay jokes, to which you laugh sarcastically. “You really should consider becoming an idol!”
“Stop!”
“You’re so pretty and you’re voice is so pretty and-”
“This conversation is over!”
And as the two of you continued your conversation, picking up the last of your things and heading out of Kirin Arts High School as students for the last time, you put the worries of your career on hold. You’re not sure when you realised it but it was probably always going to be Jay Park.
In his growth and patience. In his quiet support. In his pastel taste in sweets.
Because no matter what the future holds, right now Jay Park is holding you and that is all that matters.
AN: Thank you all so much for reading!
It’s been a while since I’ve published a longer one-shot (though this one’s actually on the shorter end of my works) so I’ve been a lil nervous about this one. I don’t think it’s perfect but enemies to lovers is my favorite trope, Jay is my bias, and the new school year is starting up so it just felt right to release this now ~
Dream High was also the first ever kdrama that I watched back in 2014 because when I was getting into kpop, I became a massive fan of Miss A and IU, so while it’s not the perfect show, it has a special place in my heart. Bonus points to any of you guys who know exactly what the lollipop bit references ;)
Special thanks to @enaus who gave me the opportunity to do this collab with them, and make sure to check out the rest of the collab linked at the top!
#enhypen new worlds collab#enhypen#jay x reader#park jongseong#enhypen fluff#enhypen reactions#enhypen headcanons#enhypen angst#enemies to lovers#kpop ff#enhypen jay#jay park
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The tiny fae sat atop the neck of the ancient snapper, holding on to his bag of parchment and writing instruments. He let his mind drift for the walk, knowing that the habit of countless years would take the larger dragon's feet exactly where they needed to go. Muscle memory was a wonderful thing.
The mental memory, however, was slippery and you always took it for granted until it was gone.
As they reached the tablet in the middle of the clearing, Scribbles could feel his great-great-grandmother perk up. The sight of the polished rocks she'd called her desk for ages would always draw her out of the slightly disconnected place she spent the majority of her time these days. His own spirits brightened instantly and he grinned with anticipation.
While Tomo puttered around her desk setting up everything just so, Scribbles fluttered to the two sides of the path that came through the trees. Most of the locals knew that the famous researcher was now struggling with dementia and would treat her accordingly; but sometimes strangers would come through and laugh at "the daft old lady" who handed out coins for simple answers over and over.
As the fae put the second sign up, its block letters reading "PLEASE BE KIND", he heard himself called back. "Scribbles! Everything is ready! You need to be in place if you're to get any work done with me today!" Tomo's voice was affectionate and filled with the same eagerness that had driven her to learn everything she could when she was younger.
"Yes, Grandmother! I was just putting up the 'open' signs for our sources."
"Good boy! Hopefully we'll get someone who knows what they're talking about today. I swear, some people just are woefully ignorant. But that's alright! We can teach. Everyone likes to learn, right?"
Smiling a little bit sadly, Scribbles nodded. "Of course." He set up his parchment, inkwell, and quills and prepared for what the day might bring. "We can only hope that everyone today will learn something valuable."
As the day wore on, Tomo never lost her enthusiasm. Whether the answers were wrong or right, she learned something (again) or the dragon who gave the wrong answer was able to have a new fact to take home. Every silly little drawing, recipe, or imaginary prose Scribbles wrote down was met with a gently amused patience and joy that her grandson was so talented and creative.
Those who were in the know would quietly drop their coins back into the basket hidden in the bushes next to the tablet. Tomo was endlessly generous, because she didn't remember that she no longer was a highly-paid scholar. Everyone in the area was so proud and so fond, they would simply make sure that she would never run out of coins… for Tomo insisted on paying for correct answers. Her pride and generosity would allow nothing else.
At the end of the day, Scribbles packed up his equipment and looked at the slowly fading light in his beloved grandmother's eyes. "The sun is going down, Tomo. Time to head home. After all, brains need rest to be able to process all this information."
"Right you are! You're such a good apprentice. If you're lucky, my desk may be yours someday. But not for a long time. There's still so much left to learn." Tomo looked over the clearing one last time before Scribbles climbed up on her back. With a deep sigh that was full of contentment - and a hint of unconscious sadness - the ancient dragon let her mind slip into the twilight she'd been fighting as her body carried her home.
Scribbles looked down at the head that held the most beautiful mind he'd ever known. No matter how many times the fog took her away, he would work hard to bring her out into the light. If that meant spending every day like today, so be it.
Wiping away a tear and sitting up straighter, Scribbles smiled as Tomo started gently rambling a story from her childhood. It was one of his favorites. The little dragon pushed away any shadows from his thoughts and enjoyed the rhythm of the familiar words.
Tomorrow was another day… and there were always questions to ask and answers to give. For what was life without learning and love?
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im sorry, you are 22 and were already a phd candidate??
LOL this got long sorry!!! u get my evil academic origin story anon congrats
yeah! i wanted to be a professor for a while (like, most of high school, and then my freshman year of college i became disillusioned abt my original field choice but by junior year i had stumbled into a new field i was passionate abt and decided teaching was the dream again) so in my senior year of college i applied to a bunch of cs phd programs
idk how other fields/countries work but basically like if you apply and you dont have a masters already it just takes longer (5 years on average instead of ~4 or something)! and a lot of the programs i applied to preferred that you didnt have a masters already. so it's less impressive maybe than it sounds on paper?
i also wanna say i was one of three ppl from my friend group going straight into phds after graduating (not even counting my med school hopeful friends. or regular masters friends) so i also feel like it's not that uncommon?? maybe covid made it more common. i also went to a like ~high end~ research uni full of nerds. and was in with the nerd athletes (distance runners) so im like biased
i spent the fall semester of senior year applying to grad school, and the spring semester getting my heart broken by grad school decisions LOL
i got into one program but it was literally like. top 5 in the country for what i wanted to do. so i accepted, bc i made my undergrad decision based on prestige and that worked out like absurdly well for me lol. and then i had a mental breakdown the weekend of graduation and realized i didnt want to grind out a phd in a field that doesnt treat ppl like me (queer women w learning disabilities from lower class backgrounds... lmfao....) kindly for like no money in the middle of nowhere far from anyone i know + love when i could (in theory) get a well-paying job (or at least more survivable than 30k/year) and find satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment from things like. spending time with my friends. traveling. having money for my hobbies. etc etc.
so i dropped out like right on the deadline for signing up for classes/seminar/research groups. and then they kept me on the email list anyways so i was tormented for a few months by what couldve been which was Great for feeling secure in this life changing choice i made more or less on an emotional whim that deviated from a life plan i had had since i was 15
and then i spent 6 months unemployed bc the tech world is imploding . LOL . but i have a job offer now for something that's really meaningful to me that'll allow me to use my skills to help people AND it'll pay me more than double what my phd stipend was. so alls well that ends well or something
#if anyone ever wants to chat comp sci. or making strange illogical decisions abt their life and academia. hit me up <3#this is kind of a long post sorry but i felt like i needed to make it clear that it's not like.#idk to me it's just a fact and like a kind of waste of time and energy and a Lot of emotional turmoil that i spent figuring out my life#essentially aimlessly but desperately grasping onto any path that made sense#rather than anything impressive if that makes sense#like i enrolled in a phd program. was 'sponsored' so to speak by a prof. had a placement in a lab. had funding and everything.#but then had a mental breakdown. and dropped out before even moving there (thank god)#ask
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Not That Type – slash/duff, A/B/O AU
So, this idea appeared a while ago when I was listening to an interview Slash did with Howard Stern and started thinking about what kinds of invasive questions reporters would ask in an a/b/o universe... It was originally just the first part, but I added the second scene this week which is why this is a day later than usual. Sfw, suggestive but not graphic.
—
"Aw, come on... I'm not like that!"
Slash was visibly flustered, his voice rose in pitch and Duff resisted the temptation to squeeze his reddening cheeks.
"No, seriously, I – " He pursed his lips as the voice on the line cut him off.
Slash was sitting with his back against the headboard of the cushy hotel bed, wrapped up in a complimentary white terrycloth robe, with freshly-washed hair soaking his collar and the telephone receiver cradled at his shoulder. He was in the middle of an interview, and Duff, for his part, was being perfectly quiet as he waited on the couch for Slash to finish.
This was nothing new: even now that they could afford their own rooms, Duff still spent most of his time in Slash's suite. And they'd learned long ago that it was best not to let on that there was anyone else in the room during interviews – it raised too many questions that they didn't care to answer.
"No, people have this idea that – just because I'm in a band and I'm... you know, an alpha…" Slash always stumbled on his words when he was embarrassed, it frustrated him sometimes but Duff found it endearing. "But I'm really not one of those guys who'll like, pick fights with other alphas and come on to every omega they meet. I just wasn't raised that way, you know?"
Duff had heard this line of questioning a million times before. If only he had a nickel for every time Slash had tried to explain that just because he's an alpha and a rockstar, that doesn't mean he's an asshole, he doesn't throw his weight around and get whatever he wants, and he can't just tell Axl what to do because he's an omega, it doesn't work that way!
But the press never listened. Honestly, Duff was glad he was just a common beta, if it meant he had to deal with a little less bullshit.
Really though, part of it was just Slash himself. Alpha or no, somehow he always managed to attract attention – much of it undesired. There was just something about his look, his riffs, his mystique. Reporters, managers, and omegas... everyone wanted a piece of Slash.
Duff was the one who got him, though.
—
"Jesus, that guy was like a fucking shark! You'd think he was scenting me through the phone line." Slash dropped the receiver on its cradle with a forceful good riddance and an irritated pout.
"He sounded like a jerk," Duff sympathized, climbing onto the bed to reclaim his spot straddling Slash’s thighs. "Beta?”
“I think so. Don’t be jealous?” He leaned up to peck Duff’s temple and gave him an imploring look, but the corner of his lips gave his teasing away.
“As if,” Duff scoffed. “…He should learn to mind his own business.” He parted the lapels of the robe and lay his hands on Slash’s warm chest as it rose and fell with his laughter.
“You gonna teach him a lesson, sweetheart?” he gently prodded, looking up at Duff with fond amusement, hooded eyes and curled lips. “Gonna defend your alpha’s honor?”
“I’d teach him a lesson with my fists if you’d let me…” Duff played along, half serious.
“No one lays a hand on you, you know that.”
The words slipped out as a growl, and Duff tipped his head forward to chuckle breathlessly into Slash’s shoulder.
“Christ, Slash…”
“Aw, don’t make fun of me baby, you know I can't control that sometimes,” he whined, tugging on a lock of wet hair and twisting it around his fingers. A drop of water landed on his collarbone.
“I wasn’t!" Duff giggled again, feeling uncharacteristically bashful. "It was sexy…”
He watched the droplet trace a path down Slash's bare chest, avoiding his gaze to hide his warm cheeks. Slash had dated betas before, but Duff had never been with another alpha, and sometimes Slash’s idiosyncrasies still managed to fluster him.
“Oh?” Slash sounded pleased. That was more than enough encouragement for him, he didn’t hesitate to get to work on Duff’s shirt buttons. His calloused fingertips grazed Duff’s skin, and he squirmed on Slash’s lap. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting so long, you’ve been so patient all afternoon while I’ve been stuck in interviews…”
“Typical selfish alpha behavior,” Duff sniped, but he was already unwinding the sash around Slash’s waist.
Slash rolled his eyes. “Not you too…” He buried his fingers in Duff’s hair and pulled him close for a kiss. “I’m sure there’s some way I can make it up to you…”
—
#sodafics#if you’re wondering…#I imagine duff riding slash in the next scene#:)#I’ll have this up on ao3 tomorrow probably#sluff#slash#duff mckagan#saul hudson#gnr#guns n roses#surprisingly this is my first abo au#i mean the first one I’ve POSTED lol#gnr fic#gnr fanfiction
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Hello its me(^o^) and this is my first Request
Can I request for Severus Snape when he broke up with his Girlfriend because He was Afraid of her safety and not knowing that she was pregnant with his Children... The Reader gives birth with Quadruplets like 3 boys and 1 girl.. And ones time while Severus was Buying some stuff for his Work he spotted her along with his Children and Reader was like very Wealthy and Powerful
Thank you so much(^o^)💙
Thanks so much for this ask!
I imagine that he breaks up with you like right after you both graduate Hogwarts
He wishes he didn’t have to, but he knows how dangerous it could be to have a romantic connection with a follower of the Dark Lord.
You know he doesn’t want to, because you know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t throw away something he’s spent so long putting time and energy into, like your relationship.
The night he does break up with you, he says that he never loved you.
All in an attempt to get you to hate him.
You tell him that you don’t believe him.
He knows that you won’t drop this, and that you’ll never believe that he doesn’t love you.
So he says other things.
“I hate you.”
“You were just a replacement for Lily.”
“You couldn’t even do that.”
“You serve no purpose to me.”
“How could I love someone so disgusting?”
Each word is not only like a knife to your heart, but to his as well.
He knows he will forever despise himself for being the reason that you looked so miserable.
You go silent, and he just leaves, distraught.
He never finds another person to love, still hung up on you.
And he still despises himself, just like he knew he would.
About 10 years later, he’s in Diagon Alley to get some new supplies for the potions supply closet.
And he sees you
And you’ve definitely changed
He’s seen you in the Daily Prophet, of course.
And all of the amazing things you’d done for the wizarding world as an auror.
But the papers had never done you justice.
You were still beautiful, but in a less youthful way.
You looked more confident, too.
Taller, wiser.
Like a woman.
And Severus wasn’t quite sure what to do other than stand in the middle of the Alley and gape.
The biggest change, though, was the four children that ran out of the Quidditch store and embraced you.
All of them had at least one feature similar to his.
The little girl, however, looked EXACTLY like him.
Just a lot less sad.
He knew who the father of those children were instantly.
And he knew why you’d chosen not to let them around him.
Why would you, after what he’d said to you?
How could you ever trust him to not say similar things to the children?
He also knew, however, that he’d have to teach these children.
He’d have to spend seven years, watching them grow up, acting as a mere professor.
A professor that every student, except most Slytherins, hated.
Even though it would break him even worse.
But he would do it, because this was the grave that he had dug.
And now, the only way to protect them would be to make them hate him, too.
Just like he had done to you.
Snape didn’t ever get those supplies that day.
He just opted to go back to his room at Hogwarts and wait until another day.
I hope you liked it! You didn’t specify wether you wanted a happy ending or not, so this is what I came up with!
#severus snape#harry potter#ask#severus x reader#snape x reader#severus snape x reader#harry potter headcanon
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happy friday! For Anders and anyone of your choice: B04. Character Attempts to Matchmake Love Interest They Believe Is Unattainable
yoooo thank you!! my brain said "matchmaking? elves!" -- so, under the cut, please find ~730 words of Anders/Merrill, set between Acts 1 and 2 of DA2, for @dadrunkwriting.
(This is -- I can't fathom why I keep writing so much fluff. But here it is.)
-
Anders had been coming by the alienage pretty often lately, Merrill reflected. Not a bad thing, actually; he'd been civil! He'd healed lots of elves! He'd kept the cracks about blood magic to a minimum! And the spirit hadn't appeared so far. It was just that he kept trying to—match her up.
"What about that one?" he said, pointing at a rangy elf loading sad summer squashes on a cart destined for the Lowtown market. It was early in the morning, and they were sitting in front of her house together, sharing cups of tea and a cloth full of sour plums.
Anders had stayed so late treating a series of related concussions that he had been unable to return to Darktown, and had spent the night. He didn't get as upset about it as Merrill might have feared. Instead, he had thanked her for the bed, claimed to have a decent night's sleep in spite of his dreams, and now seemed almost perky.
"That's Jonidia's son Tafer," said Merrill, wincing and reflexively half-rising as the elf dropped an armful of squash in the dirt, "and he's much too young for me! I don't understand why shemlen are so bad with elves' ages."
"I'm not that bad with elves' ages."
"Last week you kept pestering me about that old flower merchant. That was a grandfather—maybe even a great-grandfather!—and he was being kind." Merrill sat down and took back her tea, which Anders had taken for safekeeping when she stood up. It was nice to feel comfortable enough with someone to do things like that, and very odd that it was Anders. "Why is it always men with you, anyway?"
"You'd prefer women?" He shaded his eyes—it was going to be a hot day, she could already tell—and scanned the horizon. "What about her?" He pointed at a middle-aged elf who was coming around the vhenadahl, a pair of covered baskets yoked over her shoulders. "I'm sure she has plenty to teach… oh, bollocks, I can't talk like this anymore."
"This is more fun for me when Isabela does it," Merrill informed him.
"I've been told that before," said Anders out the side of his mouth like he was offering a shared joke, his tone almost sly. Then his expression twisted and soured. "What about Hawke?"
"Hawke doesn't tease me like that unless Isabela really gets going, and then Varric usually tells them to stop after a while." Merrill thought. "Have you seen Hawke recently? I've been thinking of dropping in on her again soon. It must get so boring up there in Hightown, in that big new mansion of hers, and she doesn't water her plants enough."
"I'm sure Hawke will be thrilled to see you," said Anders, sounding none too happy about it. All this talk of ages and here he was, a grown human sounding like a child.
Merrill frowned at him. "Why are you upset now? I thought we were having a nice morning."
"I'm not upset."
She took the plums from him and rolled one between her fingers. "Is it because I mentioned Hawke? Did you have a fight with her?"
"No, Merrill, I did not have a fight with Hawke."
"Did Justice have a fight with Hawke, then?"
"Justice and I are one—" She hid her smile too late, and he sighed, his exasperation half serious. "Just drop it."
Merrill was still watching his face when she bit into the plum, which was why she noticed his eyes dropping to her mouth.
She licked her lips, he licked his, she moved towards him a little, and there was a moment of clumsy but effective nonverbal communication that managed to convey a lot more than Anders probably wanted it to.
"Oh!" she said, embarrassed and pleased. It seemed like the day was getting warm earlier than usual. "Is that why you keep bothering me about people?"
"Merrill," he said, and looked away, his shoulders hunched like he was ashamed.
"You could have just told me." She put her hand on his knee—his leg was still right next to hers—and squeezed. After a moment, his hand settled over hers. It was big and warm and there were hairs on the back of it. Merrill felt excited about all of that.
They could talk about things later. She drank her tea, which had grown lukewarm, and watched the alienage wake up around them.
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five good things
I'm off work for three whole weeks now (I save my leave up so that I can take a good long time off at this time of year because I know I'm going to need it), and then for my first two weeks back I'll be working at home because I have a database-wrangling task to do and I can concentrate so much more easily at home.
I have a study at long last! We finished it last weekend, and I've spent a good bit of time in it and somehow I feel a lot more motivated to do stuff when sitting at a desk (except this afternoon but never mind, we can't have everything). Photos when I've sorted out everything that's going on the walls - probably at the end of next week, as I won't have the chance before because...
...tomorrow I am heading off to Heathrow and early on Wednesday morning I have a flight to Hamburg to spend a week with my lovely friends who live deep in the Schleswig-Holstein countryside. HOORAY! It's really crept up on me, but I've just packed my case and everything fits (so far) and it only weighs about 15kg out of my baggage allowance of 23kg. A minor miracle. Keeping my fingers crossed that the baggage handlers' strike today and tomorrow doesn't have too much of a knock-on effect on my bag going with me on Wednesday, and that the Border Force strike doesn't have too much of an effect on me clearing passport control when I come back next Thursday as I forgot I was coming into terminal 5 rather than terminal 3 and only have an hour between my flight arriving and my coach leaving, OOPS.
I have rediscovered the scarves I was knitting for our local homelessness charity while I was off work sick seven years ago (sigh), and found that I still had yarn for three more scarves, so I'm in the middle of making them. It's a super simple pattern, extra chunky wool and big needles so they're knitting up nice and quickly and it's extremely therapeutic. I dropped the first batch (two carrier bags full) into the charity's community cafe/warm space in town last week, and they wouldn't let me go without taking cake with me, as 'nobody leaves here empty handed' in the founder's words. They do fantastic work all year round and quite honestly the guy who founded it deserves a knighthood. I'll be going back in the new year with more scarves. :D
I've finished all my festive fic challenges, plus another prompt-fic, and am hoping for plenty of inspiration while travelling/waiting for my flights/etc. I suspect there will be at least one lazy, quiet afternoon while staying with my friends, so am hoping to get some knitting and writing done.
Not to mention studying, as I've got a bit to catch up on and an assignment to start thinking about. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed as I'm really struggling to remember the terminology, but I had a tutorial on Saturday and the tutor explained a few things in a way that finally made them make sense - and she also said that there have been a few people feeling overwhelmed in the forums, but that it's pretty usual for this part of the course as we've had so much new information piled on us in a short time (I'm already 50% through the course, more or less O.O ) - so I went and checked out the forum threads and found lots of encouragement from the student buddies, who have studied the course before, and the teaching staff - one of the prior students said she never did memorise all the terminology and was using crib sheets right up to the final assignment. Which is reassuring - and at least I can do that with this course, since none of the assessment is in real time.
I have the Job Number Two Christmas party this evening - which is a treat for the staff of both estates, laid on by the family we work for/the estates (my other job is local authority so we don't get a paid-for do - but this one is always rather nice), and is taking place in the main location which is a real honest-to-god castle that has appeared in many film and TV productions :D :D :D Drinks in the Long Drawing Room at 7, and dinner in the Great Hall at 7.30. I feel properly fancy every time XD The missus is giving me a lift there and back too, so I can have a couple of glasses of wine, which tends to take the edge off having to talk shop all evening (I usually end up sitting with one of my volunteers, or with one member of the family or another, and I don't know anyone well enough to talk about anything else XD it's usually entertaining sitting with any of the family though).
ANYWAY. Festive greetings to all of you, a very happy Hanukkah to those of you who are celebrating, and Solstice blessings and a Merry Christmas and all good wishes to everyone else. :D
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My Family
Papá: The coolest person you'll ever meet. You'll be like, "hey, have you heard that new Natalie Merchant song?" And he'll be like, "no, I'll totally check it out though, you have the best taste in music. I went backstage and took ecstasy with Natalie at her concert in 1999." He doesn't wear shoes at work. He's a professor and he has to keep tissues stocked in his office because he has a perfect record of at least one student having an emotional breakdown in front of him every quarter in his 20 years of teaching. Is from Colorado, automatically awesome. In classic Dad style, casually drops deep traumas into everyday conversations. Just the other day, we were shooting the breeze over danishes and I found out my parents almost got divorced 3 years ago when they didn't talk for 3 months and my father spent every night on the couch. Who knew?
Mamá: One time almost drove a surrey into the Pacific Ocean. Stays up until 3 A.M. every single day watching T.V. shows about child molesters, is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed next morning at 8:00 A.M. for swanky gov't. job. Drove me at 60 mph on the highway to the late shift at work one time after the sun had set and halfway there realized she forgot her glasses at home. Comes into the bathroom while I'm in the shower to use the toilet or just talk.
Hermano: Practically a billionaire at 32, but would rather wear the threadbare clothes he's had since middle school, cut his hair himself, and live off the popcorn he gets for free at work then spend a single penny. Except on my Christmas presents, which took him three trips from the store to get home. The first time he was high, ate 5 edibles in one sitting because he thought that would be a good starting point. The best storyteller. Won't always respond when you ask him a question, and if he does reply, will most likely not be to the question you asked.
Canela, A.K.A. The Bean: So named because of her gorgeous cinnamon coat and for pioneering her iconic sleeping position: snout tucked deep under her leg and body curled into the shape of the legume. The most enchanting beauty. Has natural eyeliner and, of the 3 varieties of tail (curly, swishy, and thunky), is blessed with the latter. If you shaved it, would most likely be covered in bruises due to overuse and constant whacking on any and all 2-ft. objects, including my sensitive calves. It is an honor to pet her.
Simon: One sheddy boy. You could only scratch his chin because literal clumps of his hair would come off in your hand if you touched him anywhere else. Fiercely protective of his family, but a little sleepy and up in his years.
Chewie: A pure-bred Pomeranian adopted when my mother was 8 and 1/2 months. He needed a baby monitor more than I did, since he cried and woke my parents up far more often. Attempted escape multiple times- was quite actually speedy for being so small.
My Girl Gma: Bakes amazing cinnamon rolls, but just recently stopped saying "Oriental." Has crush on Pa from Little House on the Prairie.
Grandpa: "Adopted" a lost dog that belonged to someone else, moved the dog to a different state twice, then sold it. Bought my seven-year-old aunt a goat to teach her responsibility but sold it back when he found it standing on his Cadillac. Always had Cadillac and mansion, but refused to buy ham because baloney was a few cents cheaper.
Abuelo: No one, including his own children, actually know how old he is, and he likes it that way. Openly states Hermano is his favorite out of 12 grandchildren. You gotta appreciate his honesty.
Tiá: Came to stay with us when I was little; sweeped the leg by pinching other children at the Easter egg hunt to make sure her niece went home with a full basket. She didn't come to the park to make friends.
Primo Ricky: He's in a band.
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Good Sudoku is a Roguelike
Along with the rest of the US in the early 2000s, I found myself getting extremely into Sudoku for a short while in middle school. I was never even remotely good, but ripping through the first 10-20 puzzles in a given book or app — generally labelled "Beginner" — made me feel okay about myself. As far as I knew at the time there was an extremely simple ruleset to the game: Place the numbers one through nine in columns, rows, and houses with none of those numbers repeating in any of said columns, rows, and houses. Armed with literally only this information I would often find myself wildly frustrated the moment more intricate solving techniques became necessary to progress. I simply didn’t know such techniques existed as none of the resources I used to play Sudoku had any interest in teaching the skillset required to move past the most basic set of puzzles. And so I'd bounce.
Enter accomplished game designer, artist, and talk-giver Zach Gage, a guy whose new project announcements cause me to drop everything I'm doing to check out immediately. In collaboration with Jack Schlesinger, the two have created what is without question the most streamlined Sudoku experience available for iPhones (and iPads!): Good Sudoku. A lot has been said about what makes the app so special, but to quote the official website:
Good Sudoku turns your iOS device into an AI powered Sudoku genius whose only mission is to help you learn and love this classic game.
This "AI powered Sudoku genius" accomplishes its godquest via a series of tools that not only remove the inherent friction of the game itself, but aim to teach the player high-level techniques used to solve more difficult puzzles further down the line. One such tool is called "Auto Note," which with one tap fills each blank space on the grid with notations indicating every possible answer. Gone is the tedium of starting each puzzle going square by square, using a finicky note-taking tool to get to a point where you can maybe begin to fill some spaces. Auto-note has you covered, my guy. Another tool — “Focus Mode” — allows the player to tap on any of the nine numbers to highlight every spot within the gamespace that number might fit. These two tools in conjunction with one another remove so much of the busywork involved with playing sudoku, I started to question if it should be considered cheating. It's not cheating though, because instead of just straight-up giving you the answers, they allow you to see patterns with more immediacy which means more time spent solving and less time staring blankly into the grid-void.
Those tools by themselves in conjunction with the app's beautiful aesthetic would have probably been enough to get me on board with Good Sudoku, but where Gage and Schlesinger (a good band name) have really outdone themselves is their incredible Hint system. Throughout your experience, the AI is quietly solving each puzzle in the background based on the answers you've managed to fill in. Every time you enter a new piece of information, the AI updates its path to victory. With the tap of a “Hint” button the player can see what the AI has determined to be the most logical next step in that path based on all of the current variables. In most Sudoku apps, one such button would fill the next answer... and that's it. On to the next one. Good Sudoku changes the game (in every sense) by showing you exactly how the AI was able to find that next piece of information, complete with a helpful tooltip explaining the strategy and walking you through the steps required to get there. By surfacing the processes involved, the app teaches players these techniques through repetition. You might not know what a "Locked Candidate" is now, but you absolutely will after seeing one for the tenth time. Through extended play, the game transforms from an unparsable grid of numbers and blank spaces to an exercise in pattern recognition. As these strategies slowly burn themselves into your head, you become a better Sudoku player. It rules.
After playing daily for about a week after its release, I've noticed Good Sudoku activating the same brain-space as roguelikes in the vein of Spelunky or The Binding of Isaac. These are games meant to be played hundreds of times, and for thousands of hours. After years of playing Spelunky I immediately go into auto-pilot when starting a new run because I've seen so many permutations of the level generation I can't help but feel as though surprise is unlikely. But that comfort with such a hostile environment has come from thousands of runs. I've died in Spelunky more times than I can count, and each death brings with it a small lesson for survival in future attempts. At this point, my head is crammed so full of strategies and techniques and possibilities that I feel more equipped than ever to survive the next run. I mean I probably won't… but it's nice to feel confident sometimes!!
It's in this way Good Sudoku has, oddly enough, turned the base game of Sudoku into something actually resembling a roguelike. Each tap of the Hint button reinforces the toolset I'll need to make it through the next attempt down the line. Sure I'm not getting impaled by spikes, but at least I'll be able to spot a Split Naked Pair or a Hidden Triple or something. What Gage and Schlesinger have accomplished here is extraordinary in its execution mainly due to its subtlety: Although the pitch is "to help you learn and love this classic game," so few apps actually accomplish this in a way that feels so lightweight, you'd be forgiven for not even noticing when you've started to solve Expert puzzles without hints for the first time.
Good Sudoku calls itself a sudoku that loves you, and for once in my life, I agree. It was built to care about me, about my mental load, about my time in a way no virtual agent every possibly could. Good Sudoku has more humanity in it than GPT-3. via @jag_pag
Good Sudoku is free, with a $4 in-app-purchase. I don't actually know what happens when you pay the four bucks because I did it immediately. Support cool stuff if you can!
You should download it, and probably everything else Zach has made. Alright ttyl!
⏆
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fear-is-nameless
Call me Fin.
sawyers-secret-admirer
Untitled
clovis-bray-ate-my-son
Yeehaw? Yeehaw.