#I never did any engineering classes likely because of the reasons above

[synthetic-rust]

Kinda sad to think about, but I wonder if I’d have been more likely to get into engineering type stuff if sexism wasn’t a thing…

Like no one’s ever stopped me from doing things like that, but I’d still say to myself in my head that I would be out of place for doing it for whatever reason :[

It’s weird tho, cause in most other areas of life I don’t usually give a damn about gender expectations and all that, but in the subject of technology I still ended up feeling like It’s not something I should pursue.

Been trying to remove that kind of thinking from my head, but it’s hard sometimes. It gets a bit lonely feeling like an exception to things rather than being welcomed.

—

As a sort of extension to what I’m talking about, I’ve noticed that people like to say things that are progressive in one way or another, but then will still silently operate on principles that reflect the opposite (because of societal influence).

This isn’t something I’m exempt from, and no one truly is because of how social we are as a species, but I do wish more people were able to let themselves do without it and stop limiting themselves and others more often.

In that regard I still often feel lonely existing as a girl that doesn’t buy into the things we’re so often silently and not so silently pushed into doing. There are a lot of things that I feel some kind of pressure to participate in despite my disinterest. Mostly because I feel like I become more of an outsider within my gender for not doing them.

(Btw, I’m not exactly the most cis girl, but what I’m talking about here notably calls upon that kind of experience 👍)

[sshbpodcast]

Character Spotlight: Montgomery Scott

By Ames

Bust out the green booze! We’re spotlighting The Original Series’s resident miracle worker this week on A Star to Steer Her By, where we’re giving you the best and worst moments of each character in the whole dang show. We’re donning our worst Scottish accents to give you a whole bunch of moments from Scotty, whose engineering prowess is only matched by his love of scotch. If you’re going to wear a red shirt on this ship, make sure you’re the chief engineer evidently.

Since we’ve already covered the main three characters (Kirk, Spock, and McCoy are all here), finding moments to highlight from the rest of the crew of the original Enterprise is going to be more and more of a stretch. Cut us a little slack here – the writers didn’t consider the secondary characters most of the time either. See what all we came up with below, listen to this week’s discussion on the podcast (jump to 46:48), and maybe you’ll break the laws of physics too!

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best Moments

The best diplomat I know is a fully activated phaser bank We see Scott in command of the Enterprise a bunch of times because Kirk and Spock are on away missions, and his emphatically no-nonsense attitude is honestly refreshing, especially compared with all the times Spock utterly fails at leading. And in “A Taste of Armageddon,” Scott figures out Anan 7 was imitating Kirk and stands up to ambassador Fox about it like a boss!

Deus ex machina, literally Despite it being utterly futile, Scotty stands up to the literal god Apollo several times in “Who Mourns for Adonais?” and it’s a little bit commendable. Sure, he gets his ass handed to him. Multiple times. But we’ve gotta give the guy credit for trying! However, as you’ll see in a minute, his motivation may not have entirely been in the right place.

I meant to say that it should be hauled away as garbage Scotty is a genuine delight throughout all of “The Trouble with Tribbles” and he really gets to shine. We learn his idea of shore leave is curling up with a good technical journal, which seems right to us. But his big scene in the commissary in which he starts a massive brawl with Klingons in defense of the name of the Enterprise is just too good not to highlight.

We did it, you and me… put him right under the table Let’s also give Scotty a lot of credit for drinking that Kelvan under the table in “By Any Other Name”! He sacrifices a bottle of very old whiskey for the cause of distracting their captors, and he came out (or really staggered out) the other side a victor. They don’t call it Constitution class for nothing!

No order can stop me from frightening them Again, Scott is left in charge of the Enterprise while the three lead characters get to have an adventure in “Bread and Circuses.” Although under orders not to interfere while orbiting Rome planet over and over, Scott agilely side steps that order by turning off the power on the surface. There was NO reason to think that nonsensical idea would help in any way, but the gamble paid off!

It's the biggest guess I've ever made! Somehow, this is the first moment of actually engineering genius that we’ve included on the list (I suppose we just consider it Scott doing his job at this point), but installing a Romulan cloaking device on the Enterprise in “The Enterprise Incident” is a step above the usual excellent job he does down in the bowels of the ship. Now you see him, now you don’t!

Oh what adventures they’d have! I’m almost saddened we never got a spin-off series that was just the adventures of Montgomery Scott and the slug baby from “The Eye of the Beholder” because that would be a lot of fun. When Scott meets this hyper-genius child, he somehow works out a compromise with its people even though none of the other crewmen could so much as communicate with them! Even Spock!

My sister’s youngest Uncle Scott’s relationship with his nephew Preston in The Wrath of Khan is really quite lovely. We don’t get to see much of it (families in Star Trek are famously fraught), which means the moments we do get of them together are touching and sweet. And then James Doohan’s acting in Preston’s death scene is sure to pull on your heartstrings, something this movie does in spades.

Amazing grace Speaking of touching scenes from The Wrath of Khan, the film culminates in not only the perfectly delivered eulogy from Kirk (which has a special place on our Kirk spotlight post), but in Scotty’s playing “Amazing Grace” on the bagpipes while Spock’s torpedo is spat into space. The fact that this was added at Doohan’s suggestion makes it all the more beautiful.

From one surgeon to another Let’s get further into the movies, where Scott (and the other minor crewmembers) seems to have the most to actually do. All the main TOS characters commit one hell of a treason to go search for Spock in The Search for Spock, and Scott is right there with them, sabotaging the Excelsior by pulling out some of the parts of its notorious transwarp drive.

Hello, computer! The Voyage Home shows us what a crime it was throughout The Original Series that they didn’t pair McCoy and Scott together more often. They play so well off each other as they go off to find material for the trip back to the future with some whales in tow. The comedy is spot on, their timing is down to the millisecond, and their shattering the Temporal Prime Directive is… well, you’ll see.

No bloody A, B, C, or D The Next Generation found a clever way to bring Montgomery Scott into the 24th century in “Relics” and it’s a generally good time! Sure, I have a better punchline for the “it’s green” callback somewhere in our episode coverage, but Scott wrestling with being behind the times, seeking out the familiar bridge of the Enterprise, and having a heart-to-heart with Picard are all lovely moments.

—

Worst Moments

I’d like to get into her toga Despite finding Scott standing up to Apollo in “Who Mourns for Adonais?” sort of endearing because he is so outmatched, his motivation the whole episode long is that he wants to get in Palamas’s pants, even though it’s pretty clear she’s not interested in that way, and he spends the rest of the episode speaking for her and telling Apollo what she wants when she’s right there.

This unit is not perfect Not so much a bad moment for Scott through any fault of his own, but a bad moment in that it makes him look as much like a chump as he did in literally the previous episode, Scott gets freaking killed in “The Changeling” only for it to get undone when Kirk asks really nicely. It was also in defense of Uhura, whose mind had just gotten erased, but there just aren’t enough bad Scott moments, okay?

Alright then, we can do it the hard way We mentioned a handful of times in which Scott did a good job in command of the Enterprise, but sometimes he’s almost as bad as that pointy-eared hobgoblin. In “Metamorphosis,” he decides to search for the missing crew by scanning every single possible one in the 7000 bodies in an asteroid belt, which is just not how engineers solve problems! An engineer would write an algorithm or something. Yeesh.

Is your refrigerator running? Here’s another moment while Scott was in control that he just acted stupidly. In “Friday’s Child,” the Klingons set up the ruse of a false distress signal to keep the Enterprise busy while the away team is on planet, and Scott loses like a whole day to it before figuring out he’s been duped. And then we never even get to see the confrontation with Klingons on his return! What a waste!

I just need a wee bit of rest, that's all We’re scraping for crumbs to find more moments from Scott doing anything noteworthy, and I can’t help myself from bringing up the look on his face when his advanced aging is revealed in “The Deadly Years.” There's nothing wrong with the character, but “walk in and look sad” seemed like a boring sight gag to me. Then Scott barely has any lines despite being one of the affected crewmembers!

A walk in the fog with a bonny lass We’ve harped on “Wolf in the Fold” in both our Kirk and McCoy spotlights, and we’re just not done giving grief to an absolutely absurd inciting moment for an episode. Scotty is literally diagnosed with a medical case of misogyny by Doc, setting up a string of events that gets a bunch of women killed. And this show was supposed to be progressive at the time.

Where they’ll be no tribble at all… in death “The Trouble with Tribbles” is a genuinely funny episode, and the punchline at the end is meant to be a good button. But then you start thinking about it. And you realize that if Scott beamed hundreds (if not thousands) of tribbles into the engine room of a Klingon ship, they were either fried when they went to warp or brutally murdered by Klingons. And that’s less funny.

Look over there, a distraction! Here’s another one to pad out the list that I find kind of dumb. To distract Kara long enough to get a phaser from her in “Spock’s Brain,” Scott pretends to faint and it simply looks ridiculous. As if this episode isn’t bad enough, it’s also so uncreative that it uses a really half-assed plan to get out of this situation. Where’s something as creative as fizzbin when you need it?

Could it be the half a gallon of scotch? Even more half-assed is everything about “Spectre of the Gun,” which sees Scott volunteering to test a kludged tranquilizer on himself only for it not to work because his mind is too weak. Yeah, I don’t follow this train of thought either. How do they know Scott would have woken up in time? What exactly were they going to do if it did work? Force it under the Earps’ noses? Yeehaw!

I’m an engineer not a doctor We’ve already stated how sweet the relationship between Scott and Preston is in The Wrath of Khan, but I still cannot fathom why Scott brings his dying nephew to the bridge instead of sickbay after the attack. It’s only in the movie to get a reaction out of Kirk and not for any rational purpose because Scott is a professional who should know not to go many decks out of his way during a crisis.

How do we know he didn't invent the thing? I’m gonna call Jake out as a hypocrite for putting McCoy regrowing a woman’s kidney in The Voyage Home on his best moments list, but putting Scott giving Nicols the formula for transparent aluminum on his worst list, but here we are. It does break the hell out of the Temporal Prime Directive by a few more factors, so maybe it’s the negligence that makes the cut!

I know this ship like I know the back of my hand And to round things out, we finally reach The Final Frontier, which includes a joke that couldn’t even land if it had a barricade in the shuttle bay. How incompetent does Shatner think Scott is to have him literally concuss himself on a weirdly placed crossbeam (what were those crossbeams doing there anyway?)? It’s a bad punchline to a joke no one asked for and does Scotty dirty.

—

Well, we gave her all she’s got, captain. If you think some of these moments are already scraping the bottom of the barrel, imagine how creative we’re going to have to get for our Sulu spotlight. In fact, don’t imagine it; come back next week and find out! Also keep listening along to our podcast coverage of Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you podcast, hail us on Facebook and Twitter, and keep your haggis out of the fire.

[gloriousmonsters]

unfollowed you by mistake lol. anyway. do you think song lan and xiao xingchen could have changed their philosophy/outlook on life to include any kind of "class consciousness" without encountering xue yang, and do you think that given the chance to live post xue yang encounter, that they would have regressed into a more conservative/prescriptive ideology as a reaction to their own trauma, or rather have eventually reflected on what produced a xue yang and how that understanding of injustice and trauma can improve their own approach to cultivation as a mean to better society? i am very tired and this is probably badly worded and shallower than i would like it to be lol

its possible that it can be both btw. a seemingly not class conscious ideology can still include principles of guidance which can look prescriptive to the outsider while actually implementing the kind of life long dialogue between teacher and student which is not essentially repressive nor excessively patronizing in nature, despite having a clear hierarchical nature and a heavy emphasis on individual responsibility

welcome back lol

and I... hm. Idk, there's a part of me that often kicks in with MDZS characters where I'm like 'this is for a certain value a Person but also very much a Tool of the Narrative' (possibly bc mxtx's works tend to be so laden with... moral problems, is the best way I can think of putting them, and I love it). So my kneejerk answer to the first question is that if they'd developed that class consciousness without meeting XY, it'd be kind of lame because then they couldn't have partaken in their part of the story. It's possible, of course, answering watsonianly (though I've never had the necessary drive to deep dive into any of the schools of thought/philosophies/etc that they come from, so IDK how exactly it might come about) because a lot of things are possible if you fiddle with the factors.

And I also find the question of 'if they'd lived' to be an interesting one bc for me... XXC's committing suicide is his answer to the challenge that XY presents at that point, and I feel like if he did somehow live his mind would be clouded a very, very long time not so much by problem-of-xue-yang-as-related-to-justice-and-revenge-murder, but the problem of xue yang as 'how did this person have two such utterly different faces, and which of them was real? is it possible to reconcile them?' I feel like it might stand a chance of him feeling pulled to understand XY and consider what role society played in his shaping when he's remembering his friend, and then overcorrecting with 'but none of that can matter THAT much, I shouldn't be thinking about that kind of thing' when the guilt and shame of 'this is a massacre killer who blinded my bff and may or may not depending on what timeline this takes place in engineered his death'.

IMO time, one of the big themes in MDZS is: people are very good at thinking they're ruled by principle when they're actually ruled by the buffeting winds of trauma, bias and emotion. All three of the villains show a strong awareness of different societal issues and how they can create, well, people like them, and point these things out, and the reaction of the good guys is usually... rejecting those arguments based on gut reactions, not objective reasoning (much like swathes of the fandom lololol). XXC rejects XY's reason for what he did based simply on it's just wrong, even if what you said is right you went too far so I can't focus on your reasons. So while I think there's a chance he could come around, I think it's slim. (It would probably involve a Lot of conversations with XY with crying and yelling and they'd both hate it).

SL is more of a cipher to me bc i like never write him and read him only slightly more but he's pretty much established as the more severe and judgemental of the two so....... all of the above but decrease the chance from .01 to .001 percent.

[friedaaaaaaargh]

Another phobia ramble

I’m typing this for one day in the near of distant future some person experiencing similar issues will see this (as I get increasingly terrified by even the thought of an alarm, the English gets more illegible).

I have igniterroremophobia (ligyrophobia/phonophobia) which basically for me is a completely bizarre fear of alarms (mainly fire alarms).

As I’ve moved to an environment where the need to have millions of alarms for various health and safety reasons (this is the UK of course) is required, I’ve noticed this fear has escalated massively. It’s been on my mind a lot this week after an incident on Tuesday where now my entire workplace knows I was outside shaking like a leaf on a bench for an hour to avoid a fire test at a conference (I walked out of someone’s talk which was very rude of me, but good job I did as they tested the alarm early). I’ve spent the week ashamed and hiding from people as I’m aware of how ridiculous I must look, and also know that my lab group probably want to know why they tell me I need to help them with an alarm-triggering procedure and suddenly I’m nowhere to be found.

I’m not sure when my fear started exactly, but it did. Initially, I used to spend the entire end of the school year dreading class allocations as I didn’t want to be in the classroom that had an alarm in it. At the beginning of school year was fire drill season and they’d tell us at the beginning of a certain week we’d be having one and I could never focus. In sixth form I had to be excused from a lesson as i overheard a teacher talking about a fire drill that afternoon and was so embarrassed and my teacher suggested exposure therapy.

I barely slept for a year at uni because I was so terrified of being woken by the fire alarm (not a nice experience I’ll tell you) making me exhausted. I used to be terrified to take showers, to walk around without headphones (still the case) and have the toilet with a fire alarm in the room (trust me I do seem to always be on the toilet when an alarm goes off.) I thought during lockdown it got better, afterwards I went back to uni and deliberately chose my desk to be under the fire alarm as an act of defiance to myself but it wasn’t to be.

Currently, I can’t work with liquid nitrogen, I do not work with cryo-EM either for fear of the alarms going off. Everytime they do engineering work I get stressed. I hate level crossings, I hate my smoke alarm but I’m coming to peace slowly with that one. I currently can’t work in my office on Monday afternoons as they test the fire alarm at SOME point (depends when they feel like it) that day, but sometimes they just move it to Tuesday for the lols. I can’t visit the school of medicine on a Wednesday morning, biology on a Thursday morning or lecture on a Thursday morning. I know exposure therapy will help but the alarms are loud and everywhere and I can’t find a place to slowly expose myself. I missed my first year PhD taught lectures due to them always being when the fire alarm went off, in the end I had to confess my fear before I got a bad reputation and they moved the lectures! But the other students started complaining how ridiculous it was .

When I travel for conferences I stay up all night because I’m terrified I’ll have to evacuate. I moved out of my flat after one month because the students above kept setting off the fire alarm. I refuse to live in high rise tower blocks so live miles away from my workplace so the only person I know whose gonna be setting off any alarms is me.

For me, the worst part of my fear is the fear of it suddenly happening, or knowing it’s going to happen at some point that day but not exactly when. If and when it happens, I feel sick for the rest of the day. If alone when it happens there’ll be crying and screaming.

On Tuesday I was scheduled to present at a conference and I’ve got a reputation as quite a good speaker. Last year I had an awful time at the conference as I was really unwell and nearly didn’t go this year cos of memories but thought I’d suck it up and deal with it. When we turned up, they announced we were expecting a fire alarm in the afternoon. I was in the middle of the room completely unable to get out. There was no guarantee it’d go off at said time, I was terrified. My speech was a mess, I sat quietly during lunch and excused myself in the afternoon by leaving the talks to lots of stares. I sat by the river crying for an hour and was so angry at myself. I’d told a friend where I was and she later coaxed me back in saying the alarm was finished. It was not, but she wanted to make sure I was in the room for the next session. As I was walking to the building it went off again. I walked into the next session and the organiser looks at me and warned me they were probably not finished testing (in front of the whole room) I ran out crying whoops and was also embarrassed and saw the friend outside who had lured me back in (and was now tryna stop me from bolting out the door home) who then angrily told me the alarm was actually quite nice (NICE?) but that she’d go and ask them to stop. I didn’t pay attention to the rest of the conference and I didn’t go to the after party, instead going home and laying in bed humiliated and angry. I haven’t spoken to anyone from the conference since out of pure shame.

I’m tryna work out how to help myself but the thought of exposure therapy makes me feel a tiny bit sick. This kinda just turned into me dumping all my thoughts from the week on as I’ve been very angry at my phobia and really want to stop it as to be fair it’s ruining my work performance. Also our annual fire drill is this month so he he he.

[nyx3927]

 @musicfeedsmysoul12​ and @lurking96 this is both of y’all’s fault with that thread about how too many fics where Izuku jumps, gets a quirk and just make Bakugo regret it without any actual character change. Just: Izuku goes splat, and now Bakugo is an uwu soft boy who’s really sorry but had no character development visible.

Y’all both get some of the blame for this fic outline I created after a bang, chocolate, and on 2 hours of sleep. It’s still a really rough outline and I don’t have time to polish it up into an actual outline, draft, then fic with my summer classes and job right now. Enjoy my stream of thought with no filter

The Ripple

Izuku has a concussion from Bakugo attacking him at school so his eyesight is off. Everything else is the same up to when All Might leaves him on the roof.

The concussion fucked with his vision, balance, and depth perception. So he ended up accidentally stepping off the side of the building. (Hush, I know that there’s a railing. We’re pretending that when All Might jumped away from Izuku on the roof, he accidentally took like half of it with him.)

Crash, boom, blood. Ambulance carted him off to the hospital and that’s the last we see of Izuku for a while.

They don’t know that All Might was the one who got him up to the rooftop because the notebook with the signature was blown off the roof and into the river. By the time that it was found, it was nothing but mush and the writing was illegible, all runny and blurry. They also just assumed that a villain ripped the railing off in a previous battle and the owner hadn’t gotten it fixed yet.

Inko tells Mitsuki that they think it was suicide because he couldn’t have accidentally gotten up on the roof (No evidence of All Might). Katsuki hears that but refuses to tell anyone that he told Izuku to jump off a roof because that could hurt his chances of being a hero.

Entrance Exam

Fast-forward to the entrance exam, everything proceeds as canon except for the bits with Izuku, which never happened.

Uraraka is stuck under the boulder with the zero pointer bearing down on her. Canon shows no evidence of any pro except Present Mic at the site, and he was last seen at the gates so he isn’t close by to Uraraka.

Uraraka couldn’t escape from the boulder in time and the kill switch takes up to 30 seconds to receive and process. So, the robot steps on the boulder and crushes her leg. She’s rushed to Recovery Girl but the damage is so severe that they have to amputate a leg.

As compensation, UA takes care of all the medical bills and offers her a spot in the Hero Course at UA with her entire tuition paid for all 3 years. Uraraka accepts to make it easier financially on her parents, so she shows up to the first day of classes with a prosthetic leg that she painted pink in an effort to make it less sad.

Quirk Assessment

A random extra is put into 1-A, but they and Mineta are promptly expelled. The extra just didn’t try at all, relying upon the idea that the teacher wouldn’t actually expel anyone on the first day. Mineta was just too pervy/not heroic enough so he got the boot.

Aizawa was reminded of the death of Oboro when Uraraka nearly got crushed, so he’s on high alert to expel those that he believes would never be good at heroics/ would just get themselves killed. Extra not trying and Mineta just focusing on being a perv, made him convinced they would get killed so he just expelled them straight away [No readmission for them]

This shocked Momo who thought he was bluffing and made her more cognizant of the fact that not everyone plays by the same rules as her.

Battle Trial

Battle trials happen. Momo and Uraraka are paired up together and fight twice in the trials. They won both times because Uraraka floated the bomb and Momo in the fight against Todoroki so that it was impossible for Todoroki to capture them. They win against Iida and Bakugo because Uraraka takes advantage of Iida’s unwillingness to hurt someone he views as disabled/helpless and knocks him out with a bat from Momo, then touches the bomb, Momo just created water and soaked Bakugo so he couldn’t use his Quirk and then ran from him.

All other trials proceeded as in canon.

USJ

Since Tsuyu is the only one in the Water Zone [Midoriya not in the story and Mineta expelled], she just went straight for the shore and got back to the entry area via the river. She witnesses the entire beatdown of Aizawa and his fighting, so she’s very traumatized. But because she’s amphibious and is completely underwater [In my hcs, she can breathe underwater as long as water can access most of her skin. So her suit is very permeable and water can get through it], Shigaraki never sees her and so he doesn’t try to kill her.

Rest of the USJ goes as canon dictates including Aizawa getting his head smashed by the Nomu

Sports Festival

Because 1-A has 2 less students, only the first 40 to get to the finish line can pass on. Todoroki ended up getting first place by icing over Bakugo’s legs at the tunnel entrance. Everyone else that originally passed in canon, also passed.

All the teams are the same, except for Uraraka’s team which doesn’t have Midoriya, and Shoji’s who doesn’t have Mineta.

Bakugo is going after Todoroki instead of Uraraka’s team because he’s focused on snagging the winning headband. 

Uraraka uses her Quirk on her team and they just hang out in the sky for awhile, since after the boulder, she practiced to be able to lift more weight so that never happens again. 

Shoji’s team is the same as canon, especially because Mineta never actually did anything important to the team.

Todoroki never uses his fire because he used his ice to create a dome that kept everyone else away from his team. Bakugo runs around stealing other headbands since he can’t get to Todoroki.

At the end of the round, Todoroki is in first, Bakugo is second, Uraraka is third and Shinso is fourth.

Ojiro and Shoda both drop out citing the fact that they couldn’t remember the event as the reason. Shiozaki Ibara and Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu replace them

So now we have the 1v1 battles with the following students.

Uraraka Ochako

Tokoyami Fumikage

Hatsume Mei

Bakugo Katsuki

Kirishima Eijiro

Ashido Mina

Sero Hanta

Todoroki Shoto

Iida Tenya

Yaoyorozu Momo

Kaminari Denki

Shinso Hitoshi

Aoyama Yuga

Shiozaki Ibara

Tetsutetsu Tetsutestu

Shinso gets a free pass onto the next round because he is a gen ed student so they wanted to allow him the best chance possible and it’s better for the optics of UA for watchers to see a hero student beating up another hero student instead of a gen ed kid.

Todoroki v. Sero -Todoroki won ala iceberg

Kaminari v. Shiozaki  -Kaminari won by sending electricity through her hair and knocking her out because Aizawa forced him to start thinking outside of the box after he nearly died during the USJ [shiozaki has to have nerves to control her vines and nerves have electricity traveling through them. So they’re a conductor and Kaminari can send his electricity down them]

Iida v. Hatsume -He doesn’t accept her gadgets and just pushes her out of bounds. After the Uraraka debacle in his battle trial, he realizes that he can’t just go off his perceptions and has to be wary of them.

Ashido v. Aoyama - Ashido won

Tokoyami v. Yaoyorozu - Yaoyorozu won by creating an explosion of light and blinding them, then pushing them out of the ring. Uraraka taught her to take advantage of what she can do and Aizawa forced her to realize that others don’t have the same rules.

Tetsutetsu v. Kirishima - Kirishima won by charging Tetsutetsu and knocking him out of the ring. Again Aizawa forced him to not just behave as a shield because of the USJ

Uraraka v. Bakugo -Uraraka won by taking off her prosthetic, leaving it as a decoy and floating herself so that he couldn’t hear her coming, and the dust from his explosions had blinded him. She tackled him from above and hurled him out of bounds. He got a concussion and Recovery Girl forced him to stay in the infirmary.

Todoroki v. Shinso -Shinso won by coming after Todoroki’s weak spot and making him talk

Iida v. Kaminari -Kaminari won by shocking Iida’s engines when he tried to grab him. Made him collapse, and then just dragged him out of bounds.

Tokoyami v. Ashido- Tokoyami won by Dark Shadow kicking her out of bounds

Uraraka v. Kirishima -Uraraka won by preying on Kirishima’s desire for manliness and to not hurt a girl. Got close enough to float him and then just push him out of bounds. Aizawa has plans to lecture Kirishima about when to be manly and when to not be.

Shinso v. Kaminari -Shinso won. He could tell that Kaminari was a memelord, so he just took advantage of that and said a meme that Kaminari couldn’t resist completing. [Don’t know what yet, I’ll figure it out later]

Tokoyami v. Uraraka -Tokoyami won. Uraraka lost because she couldn’t use her Quirk on Dark Shadow and Dark Shadow was the one to attack her. [See doc of quirk analysis for more in depth in case we forget]

Shinso v. Tokoyami -Shinso won by mirroring Tokoyami’s speech patterns which knocked him off guard and got him caught into Shinso’s Quirk.

Shinso got first place, Tokoyami got second, Uraraka and Kaminari shared third place.

Hero names

Todoroki -Shoto

Bakugo -King Explosion

Iida -Tenya

Uraraka -Weightless [As a pun on weigh less because of her amputation and her quirk. She’s not quite as bubbly and didn’t feel like uravity reflected her anymore]

Tsuyu -Froppy

Kirishima -Red Riot

Yaoyorozu -Creati [I really want to change this but I don’t know to whaaaat!!! I’ll come back to it later]

Tokoyami -Tsukuyomi

Jiro -EarJack

Shinso -Silencer [Stupid but his quirk makes people silent plus I love MLB silencer design of the , not the helmet tho that is ugly looking and the coloring needs to be more muted imo]

Internships

Shinso gets an internship with Aizawa to assess whether or not he’s fit for heroics. Aizawa also prescreens all of his students' internships to make sure that it’s a good fit for them. [He’s a lot more protective of where they because he wants them to be actually learning useful heroics not shit like how to clean and pose for a camera.]

Mirko offers an internship to Uraraka because she wanted to teach a fighting girl that was perceived as helpless by society. [Society views disabled as helpless, a girl is also viewed as helpless, both is bad combination. Mirko wants to prove anyone can be badass with the right training]

Yaoyorozu gets put with Fatgum because Aizawa sees that she’s struggling with the fat part of her Quirk and knows that if she went with Uwabami, she’d develop more insecurities. [Uwabami is a TV actress/model. She’ll pass on weight/beauty related insecurities because that’s what a lot of actresses have and she seems focused more on a fanbase]

Kirishima goes with Rock Lock to be faced with the blunt truth that ideals are nice, but you can’t have them rule your life as a hero. [Canonly, he’s very blunt and pragmatic, so he’d believe that trying to be manly is fine, but there is a time and place for it.]

Everyone else goes with their canon internships.

The Nomus attack Hosu. Because Gran Torino isn’t there, the Nomus are more dangerous and more civilians die. All the heroes are focused exclusively on managing the Nomus and the interns kinda fall to the wayside since they can’t do anything.

Iida slips away and Manual is too busy putting out fires to notice.

Iida runs off and finds Stain. Battle commences and Iida loses.

Stain calls him and Native fake heroes. Native gets a sliced throat. Stain is a little more lenient with Iida because he is a kid. He goes through the fabric pants and slices the femoral artery to the bone. [Femoral artery cuts can lead to death within minutes especially with Iida running on adrenaline which kicks up the blood pressure and rate of bleeding.]

Endeavour comes through with Shoto burning all the nomus and destroying them. Finally the city is quiet and the search for the dead begins.

Every hero in Hosu grid searched the entire city to retrieve the dead and bring them to the morgue for claiming. 

Manual was the one to find his dead intern and Native. He had to call UA and tell them that he got a student killed while under his supervision. He gets blacklisted by UA and Aizawa puts out a warning on the Underground network that if others are under his care, that he might lose track of them.

Once everyone returned from their internships, they left red spider lilies on his desk as a way to guide him to the afterlife.

Training Camp

The villains still want Bakugo because they saw his aggression, violence, and determination to be the best during the sports festival and the internships. So they think he’d be an easy switch to flip.

This time, Aizawa doesn’t dump them out in the middle of the forest because he’s focusing on forcing his students to interact and bond with each other instead of doing their own thing. So they all stay on the bus and Aizawa makes them talk about something semi-important with a seat partner for 10 minutes before switching so that everyone talks to more than just their friend groups.

When they arrive, Kota is his bratty self and Aizawa shuts that down fast. He tells him that he has two options, one: stay with his aunts and uncle or two: stay with Aizawa. Aizawa can’t have an itty-bitty child running around loose in the forest when 17 hormonal teenagers are letting off their Quirks which are dangerous. [it was an awful idea in canon to let Kota hide in his treehouse. Imagine if one of the kids near the mountain lost control of their quirk.] Kota chooses to stay with his aunts and uncle at all times because Aizawa is scary.

Once the training starts, he pairs everyone up with different partners to force their Quirks to improve.

Ashido-Kirishima to strengthen her acid and his hardening by hurling acid at him

Tokoyami-Kaminari-Aoyama to force Aoyama to maintain his laser beam for longer, Tokoyami to force him to strengthen Dark Shadow against light, Kaminari to power multiple light sources without burning them out and not going into whee mode so he can avoid the laser beam and Dark Shadow

Ojiro-Koda to force Koda to vary the animals that he calls and Ojiro to give him experience with fending off multiple opponents of varying sizes and skill levels without seriously injuring them.

Todoroki-Bakugo-Tsuyu to force Todoroki to be able to control both sides of his quirks and switch them easily, Tsuyu to force her to get accustomed to varying temperatures and making sure they don’t knock her out, Bakugo to force him to sweat more in both cold and hot temperatures so that he’s more versatile.

Jiro-Shoji-Hagakure to force Hagakure to improve her stealth and fighting, Jiro to make her be able to detect people sneaking up on her, and Shoji to improve his locating skills and stealth. [Shoji is a big boy and needs to work on stealth]

Sero-Sato to help Sero with his dodging and speed, and Sato to help him retain more of his planning and forethought while his Quirk is activated

Uraraka-Yaoyorozu to make Uraraka work on her sickness and weight limits and Yaoyorozu to adapt to planning on the fly and create items quickly.

Aizawa forces them to break away from their training partners when it’s time to make dinner and everyone is required to help in some way during the meal. The help can be gathering the ingredients, preparing them, doing the actual cooking, plating, setting the table, cleaning up after, anything as long as they contributed.

Repeat until the trial of courage.

Vlad wants to do the trial and Aizawa refuses to do it. Aizawa is actively trying to squash out the competitiveness of his students in order to make them work together and ask for help so that they’ll survive longer in the hero society. Uraraka lost a leg because people wouldn’t cooperate to help her in the entrance exam and Iida died because he was too focused on himself and didn’t ask for help. The trial would just reignite the competitiveness and ruin his progress.

1-B does the trial on their own while 1-A is given a maze they have to navigate.

The maze is created by Pixie Bob and is huge. It’s large enough that the students on the ground can’t peek over the walls to see the path. There are two students on the ground, the leader and the guide. The leader can see the walls and the turns but has earplugs in so they can’t hear the guide if the guide tries to talk. The guide can hear the directions from the person who sees the entire maze but is blindfolded and has to guide through tapping the shoulders of the leader. The person outside and looking down has to direct their team through the maze quickly without crashing into other teams. The leader can’t just guess a direction because Pixiebob will shift the maze if they try to do that so they can’t backtrack. It’s in teams of three so Aizawa is directing the last team. [Kinda inspired by survivor but with my own twist]

All of them rotate through each position with different teams each go round to impress on them the importance of all the roles.

In the last round, Bakugo was the person issuing instructions, cursing and screaming through the mic the entire time.

That’s when the villains attacked. But there were a few changes in the lineup. 

Toga wasn’t there because the police picked her up and Inko got her case taken on to get her on parole and took her into her home when she saw her at the station while continuing with the criminal charges levied against the owner of the building that Izuku had fallen off of. The appearance of a girl bullied and ostracized for her Quirk, who was going down the path of no return, Inko saw Izuku in her. As such, she wanted to care for her and show her that villainy wasn’t the answer and that there are people who cared for her in spite of her blood Quirk. [Toga is stuck with Inko at this point in time and has a tracking anklet to make sure that she’s behaving. Rehab is going really well with the unconditional care that Inko is providing.]

Dabi got an infection and landed in the hospital ER as an unknown patient and wound up in a coma while his body was busy trying to fight the infection of his staples. [The man’s a walking open wound. You can sneeze in his general vicinity and have a high chance of taking him down in a couple weeks. Haven’t decided if I want to wake him up or not. Depends on my feelings]

Mustard joined the attack via Toga due to them being closer in age and talking. No Toga, no Mustard. [He’s sulking in detention right now.]

So the only ones left are Mr. Compress, Magne, Spinner, Muscular, Moonfish, Twice and the Nomu. Much smaller and no long-range attacks.

Their mission is to get in, extract Bakugo and get out with minimal damage. That’s what happened.

Muscular, Moonfish, and the Nomu all rampage on the opposite side of the mountain to draw attention to them. Magne and Spinner break up the 1-A class and drive them apart. Twice and Mr. Compress work together to snatch up Bakugo in a marble and then they all book it. Muscular and Moonfish are both left behind to keep the heroes distracted long enough for them to get back to Kurogiri and through the portal. Nomu ended up buried in a mountain via a very anger Tiger at the disruption of his naps. The students all worked together to try and bring down the villain to retrieve their classmate, but when that failed, Yaoyorozu managed to attach a tracker to the villains top hat.

Injuries were minimal and the three heavy hitting villains were arrested and locked up. The only casualty was Bakugo being kidnapped.

Kidnapping Arc

Blah, blah, join us you can be stronger and win a villain-Shigaraki

No, fuck off, go fuck yourselves-Bakugo

Repeat until All Might shows up

Then AfO activates goop Quirk [really need a better name for that. better than vomit transport quirk at least. That was my first thought], drags the league and Bakugo to him. Bakugo is held by him, hand on his temple ready to crush him.

Rest of Heroes all show up on the battlefield but aren’t moving so that Bakugo doesn’t get hurt. Essentially a stand off.

You know, you can tell whether or not someone has the potential for villainy by their greatest regret -AfO

AfO has a quirk that allows the user to see someone’s greatest regret, with more details the longer that the quirk is activated. He also has a quirk that allows him to project whatever he’s thinking about in a video format for everyone to see. [the man is old. he probably had a habit of taking whatever quirk he wanted when he was younger before all might turned him into a very ugly potato/alternate darth vader]

Quirks activate and it’s the scene of Bakugo telling Izuku to get jump off a building spliced with the news from Inko that Izuku was suspected of jumping off a building

Interesting. Why is that your greatest regret?-AfO

Quirk gives him more details. 

Bakugo only regrets saying that because if it ever became public, he'd never reach the spot of number one hero which is his only goal in life.

Guess you are nothing but a villain after all. Too obsessed with yourself to see the damage you caused.-Afo 

Afo shoved the boy away from him and forcibly activated Kurogiri’s Quirk to allow the league to escape.

Every hero on site is frozen in shock at the reveal of what a hero student of UA, the most prestigious hero school that graduated most of the top heroes in Japan, actually believed.

At that point, AfO flips All Might the finger and just goes through the portal because the news would shake society’s faith in UA which is really good. He can kill All Might later. [or just wait for any infection to take the man out. He lost his stomach so he probably lost his spleen too which is kinda important for the immune system.]

Fallout

Bakugo is booted to gen ed because Aizawa refused to teach someone that was just going to end up hurting someone later in life. Because Aizawa is an Underground Hero who specializes in information and predication, schools tend to believe in what he says about the potential/future of heroes in training especially when he has evidence to back up his beliefs. So no other school will take him on as a hero student.

Bakugo is essentially blacklisted from heroics because everyone wants to believe that a hero is good and just. And when the illusion is broken before it has a chance to solidify, they have no chance of becoming a hero. 

Aizawa goes and apologizes in person to Inko. Because even though he had no way of knowing, he feels like he should have recognized the abusive tendencies and/or egocentrism  of Bakugo earlier. So, allowing it to continue was a slap in the face to his victims.

Inko accepts his apology because she didn’t know about it either so how could she blame him when she was closer and still missed all the signs. She offers to let Aizawa visit Izuku because Eraserhead was one of his favorite heroes because of how much skill he had. But because Eraserhead was underground, he didn’t have any merch or enough information to write about him.

*Split path here depending on the angst level I want

1. Izuku is in a coma, all healed up, just hasn’t woken up. When they came, Izuku had just woken up a half hour ago so the doctors were busy checking all his vitals, memory, joints, etc. Inko cries, Aizawa stands away because he’s allergic to emotions, and Izuku is just silently fanboying because he sees one of his favorite heroes.

2.Izuku is in a coma and doesn’t wake up. Inko introduces Aizawa to him and tells Aizawa about his dreams and his story. Aizawa makes sure that at least once a week, he comes and visits to talk to him. He also brings other heroes to introduce to Midoriya to make sure that others know about him.

3.Aizawa and Inko go to a graveyard and the name Midoriya Izuku is carved into a family grave marker with flowers and an All Might figure in front of it. Inko tells Aizawa that Izuku died from falling from the building. They thought he jumped randomly, but with the new info, Inko is thinking that Bakugo might’ve pushed him verbally over the edge. Aizawa promises to investigate more.

[kinsey3furry300]

So how the heck do the Avengers pay for stuff, and how rich are they?

So, in the wake of “Falcon and the Winter Soldier” There’s a lot of debate about why Sam didn’t seem to get paid well for his work in the Avengers (at least in the MCU continuity), and this has got me thinking: we’ve got no evidence that the Avengers are, financially, anything but a hot mess. So lets break it down, Avenger by Avenger, using real-world pay scales for the ones who have jobs.

Tony: a billionaire, so clearly he’s a financial genius, right? Well….. his actions say otherwise. He’s shown to be wildly irresponsible with his money. He inherited a lot of wealth form his parents which was managed by the first Jarvis, Obadiah, and Pepper for him, he buys and then gives away not just woks of art, but entire collections by major 20th century artists on a whim, destroyed his own cars and home without concern, he tanks the value of his own company in the first Iron Man with a bad press interview, gets kicked of his own bord of directors, and ultimately, in Iron Man 2, gives control of his company to Pepper. He’s insanely rich, and insanely smart, but man, he’s not smart with his money. So all the cool stuff, his suits, the Avengers tower, the facility up-state: that’s all paid for by him, but Pepper is holding the purse-stings.  So, does he pay the others? We have no evidence for most of them… but we do with Spidey. Peter Parker is in the Stark Internship Program a euphemism to hide the fact he’s training and mentoring him as a super-hero, but I find the wording interesting: he refers to Spidey, his surrogate son and chosen heir, as an intern. I.E., Unpaid.  I’m guessing this is Howard’s influence over him, some sort of ‘make you own way in the world, son’ attitude, but  if he’s not paying Spidey, is he paying anyone else? He certainly pays for stuff super heroes suits and things, equipment, fuel, the base, but does he pay anyone a wage? No one ever mentions it. You think it would come up.

So, if he’s not paying them a wage, where do Avengers  (and thier allies) get their day-to-day money from, and are they rich? Using google and https://www.federalpay.org, lets find out.

Cap: Well, before Civil war, he’s a shield operative, and he presumably still holds his military rank: he’s a US Army captain, with (well) over 40 years service, so USD$88,142.40 per year, with $237.71  drill pay (pay per drill you have to do on weekends, on leave or outside of normal service) and $175.00 per month hazard pay (which I bet is interesting) on top of that. As a WW2 veteran, he’d be eligible for a war pension if he:

Was not discharged for dishonorable reasons; and,

Served 90 days of active military duty; and,

Served at least one day during wartime ("wartime" as determined by the VA); and,

Had  countable family income below a certain yearly limit; and,

Is  age 65 years or older; or

Regardless of age is permanently disabled, not due to wilful misconduct.

As he’s still receiving 90k per year, he’s ineligible for a pension as his countable yearly income is above the limit.  So if shield pays him in accordance with his rank and years of service, about $90, 600 per year incuding hazard pay.

After civil war, he’s a fugitive on the run, so presumably flat broke. I’d asume he gets his pension returened to him after the snap.

He’s also just gone from the 40’s to the present day, so 70 years of inflation probably makes buying things very confusing for him: everything would seem insanely expensive at first. He’d also not know what the correct prices are for anything invented after 45. You might get used to how much more expensive food and coffee is, but how much is a smart-phone worth? $200? $2000 $20000? Who knows? I bet the others have to facepalm a lot when he either refuses to pay for what he sees as clear price-gouging, and at the same time regularly pays insane amounts of money for goods and services because he doesn’t know better. He also has no known assets other than his pay: he rents an apartment making him one of the few American males in his age-group who isn’t a home-owner

Thor: Does Asgard even have currency? It’s depicted like a “Crystal spires and toga” type utopia with no poverty: even working class Asgardian’s like Scourge seem to be pretty well-off and want for nothing, so he’s from a post-scarcity society where actual magic is a thing. His “Another” coffee cup smashing and the fact he doesn’t have a computer of phone in Ragnarök might indicate that, no, he just doesn’t have, need or understand money. Splitting a bar tab with him must be a nightmare. His breakdown post snap indicates he’s got some cash, but not a huge amount, and is probably skiving of Valkyrie and the other Asgardians.

Banner: Okay, so a PhD could make you a lot of money from patents… in pharmacology or engineering. Theoretical physics? Not so good. And if Banner did have any patents, they’ve probably been seized under eminent domain by the US military.  At the start of The Hulk film, he’s working a entry-level factory job at a botteling plant in Brazil. The minimum wage in Brazil is 1069.62 Real per month, that’s 12,835.44 Real per year, or around $2437.79 US per year, before everything goes wrong for him! He then runs off to India, works for Tony for a bit and then gets shot into space. Spidey may actually make more in allowance than Banner does, and Banner is a gown ass man with bills to pay: I’d imagine he loses a lot in ripped clothing.

Natasha and Barton: Pre Civil-war, both are government spooks, so how well does that pay? The salaries of CIA Intelligence Analysts based in the US range from $25,838 to $685,701 , with a median salary of $125,340, so let’s assume that Shield pays in a similar range: $685,701 per year for Director Fury, around 125,000 for Natasha and Cliff, which explains Cliff’s nice, middle-class mid-western home. Post civil war, presumably not great: we know that Natasha spends a lot of her savings running and hiding all across the world, and Cliff takes a deal and presumably lives of his savings, pension and his wife’s income.

Rhodes: Full USAF colonel with over 10 years service? $105,562.80 per year, plus $293.23 drill pay per drill and $175 per month hazard pay, and because he’s team Stark and not Team Cap in Civil War, he’d not lose any of that. He presumably also gets an injury pay-out after his accident. After T’challa and Stark, he might be the best paid avenger.

Dr Strange: spends all his money he made as a surgeon on trying to cure his hands: spends literally his last dollars heading to Nepal to train. Wong even jokes with him about their lack of worldly money when asking for a tuna-melt. But, can use illusion to make people think he has money, and his home and clothes etc. come with the job, so in the same boat as Thor in that he has no money, but needs none AKA, he’s a bastard to try and split a restaurant bill with.

Wanda and Vision: No know source of income, just sort of live in Tony’s hose and eat his food, and on top of that Wanda goes on the run after civil war… yet they can stay in fancy hotels in Edinburgh, a relatively expensive city, and Vison apparently bought them a house to retire in, so one of them has some source of money. Maybe Tony gave Vision years of back-pay form when he was still Jarvis, or maybe the vison has a day job, which is, frankly, hilarious. Could you imagine him as a barista? I can, and it makes me very happy.

Scott Lang: I’d assumed he’d be super, super broke, but apparently the average pay for a private security consultant in the Bay area is $85,430 per year. Not bad. Pity he gets sucked into the quantum realm just as his business is taking off, so presumably, flat broke again.

Bucky: no known income, and I doubt Hydra paid him for being the Winter Soldier so he probably has no savings, but he should, technically, qualify for a military pension. As a single veteran, he’d be  eligible for federal tax-free pension of up to $1732 per month, or $20,784 tax free per year. Not much for someone who lives in NYC. He may also be eligible for medical benefits over the loss of his arm. Whether or not he got to see any of that money given how confused his life has been over the past 10 years is unclear, but on paper he’s eligible.

T’challa: He is, quite possibly, richer than Stark, and as an absolute monarch pays no tax and has access to his Nation’s vast wealth in vibanium. It’s good to be the king!

Captain Marvel: USAF captain, and a test pilot; the test pilot school only accepts applicants with a service length of less than 9 years 6 months (10 years six moths of helicopters) as they don’t want older applicants. With 8 years service, $79,538.40, plus drill pay and hazard.  However, no know (human) pay since 1990. Flat broke.

Guardians of the Galaxy: no data, but I’m assuming “Cowboy Bebop” levels of perpetual never-ending poverty given the way they choose to live. I’d also assume Rocket has taken all their cash into some sort of Ponzi scheme of his own creation, because just look at him, of course he has.

Spidey: he’s got about $10 of his aunts’ money at any given time, so he can buy lunch… which may in fact be more than Banner or Lang, and we know it’s more that Strange or Thor.

 So, here the big one: how rich or how broke is Sam?

Sam Wilson: annoyingly, we’re not directly told what rank Sam held in any MCU film. USAF pararescue “Maroon berets” are generally NCO’s (but there’ are officer-ranked pararescue) , and he’s seen working on his wings at one point, where as officers don’t generally work on or maintain airframes. He’s shown wearing a Nation Air guard grey while jogging at one point to confuse the matter further. The general consensus on redit is he’s a former USAF tech sergeant (E-6). But how long was he in the air force? With six years service (the minimum sensible time he could have served to work in pararescue based on his age), that would be $41,464.80 per year, plus drill pay and hazard. As Anthony Mackie, the actor that plays him, was 36 as of Civil War, and assuming the character is the same age, and assuming he retired from the air force that year, and he joined the USAF at 17, the youngest you can join, he’d have served 19 years, giving him a pay of $51,566.40, the maximum pay you can get at this rank before promotion to Master Sergent,  but meaning he left just before he’d qualify for the 50% final salary pension you’d qualify for after 20 years. Which seems weird. So let’s assume the character is one year older than the actor that plays him and served 20 years (ages 17-37), that means Sam has a military pension of $25,783.20 per year (20,784 of it tax-free), plus any injury benefits. He councils other veterans, but doesn’t get paid for that. He also chooses Team Cap in Civil War, so would become a wanted criminal, and so lose his income between 2016 and 2018, and then gets snapped and has no income for 5 years, which would destroy his credit rating. Like the rest of Team Cap, he presumably gets his post snap pardon, and goes to work for the US government at his former pay and rank. However, given how Captain John Walker treats him as an equal, it’s possible he’s been promoted to a captain when the  hired back, giving him a pay of between $54,176.40 to $88,142.40 (with 20 years experience, depending on if they take into account his prior service or not, and how much prior service he has), but either way, he’s just starting this as a new job after being legally dead for 5 years: no savings, and no credit.

Commercial fishing vessels cost about 10% of their total value per year in maintenance alone. I can’t identify what sort of boat the Wilson’s have, but some quick googling indicates that the cheapest  15m long wooden in-shore shrimp trawler costs around $140,000, so that’s $14,000 per year in maintenance costs alone, minimum. And that’s a lower estimate, assuming the rest of the business is sound, which we know it isn’t.

So, in concussion, yes, Sam is in some serious financial trouble until he can re-build his savings and credit, but the scary bit is he’s not alone in that: he’s probably better off than Lang, Banner, Danvers, Strange, Thor, Bucky, Wanda and Parker. Only Clint (if he gets a full pardon and gets his full pension), Rhodes, Stark and T’challa aren’t in some sort of potential financial problems. That asshole bank teller was right: despite the fact it seems to pay well on paper, with a few exceptions, the Avengers financials are probibaly a mess. EDIT: Rocket is running the Ponzi scheme, if that’s not clear from context. The others know they have money somewhere, but not where it’s gone. And It’s been pointed out to me that as he’s technically a POW while he’s the Winter Soldier, Bucky is owed over 70 years back-pay, equal to over 3 million dollars, details in the notes.

[yutahoes]

All About You

pairing: nerdy! Yuta Nakamoto x rich! bratty! Y/N (I hope I made justice) other characters: Johnny as your twin brother, Taeyong as your bestfriend word count: 4.2k words genre: fluff summary: He’s supposed to teach you Math, why is he teaching you to love? warnings: cursing, Y/N has a bad temper, cheating, cringe  Some scenes are inspired from ‘It Started with a Kiss’ 

a/n: Based on this ask. I’m sorry anon, this took such a long time to write. 😭 I just feel unmotivated to write and the week had been such a whirlwind of emotions. I’ve also been so busy, it’s so crazy. 

Also, this is my thank you post for reaching another milestone of this writing blog. I never expected that I’ll past 500 followers but now, it’s in 1.5k. Thank you for following me and reading my works. Please, don’t hesitate to give me feedback even if it’s good or bad. 😅  

"Y/N!" Your eyes shoot open at the sound, groaning when you realize that it was your brother shouting. "You'll be late for school." You hid your head under the pillow to shut down the noise coming from outside the room. "Your car is towed, have you forgotten about it?" Once again, you groaned. "If you don't come down after five minutes, you'll have to take the bus." 

Once again your eyes opened, raising your head. Five minutes? How will you get ready in five minutes? Your allowance is almost gone. You needed to go to school with Johnny or you might end up taking a bus. You were wearing your school uniform when you heard a car engine and saw Johnny leaving already. "Fuck!" You whispered to yourself before taking your bag and hurriedly ran down the stairs. 

"Fuck you, Johnny Seo!" You shouted in annoyance, dragging your school bag outside the gates of your large house while taking your phone out and calling your bestfriend. "Pay for my cab fee." 

“I don’t have any money left,” Taeyong whined. “Just take the bus.” He said before hanging out that pissed you off much more. 

You groaned in annoyance before walking to the bus stop. You will get scolded for being late again if you don’t take the bus. You just wished that no one is going to see you. 

Luckily, the bus isn’t that crowded but there’s only one seat available, beside a guy who had the same uniform as yours. How annoying.

The guy was focused on answering a worksheet, his name written above. Yuta Nakamoto. You heard that name before but instead of pondering over it, you decided to shrug it. You were thankful that he’s the only person from your school who is on the same bus as you or it will be really embarrassing. Once you walked to the gate of the school, you noticed the discipline director on the gates. Shit, you thought, you forgot your necktie. This has detention written all over it. This day is so unlucky. 

A piece of fabric can be felt on your neck followed by the same male student walking before you. The discipline director saw him and scolded him for not wearing a necktie that startled you. You glanced at the necktie hanging on your neck and hastily fixed it before getting inside the campus. Your eyes meeting with the same guy you were sitting next to earlier on the bus. Yuta Nakamoto. 

You shrug while passing him. It's his fault that he's punished like this. Why would he give his necktie to you? When you arrive at your locker, you exchange the worn-out necktie with the spare you have in your locker. "Hey, did you study for our Math exam?" Taeyong greeted that made you roll your eyes. He knew you never study for anything. 

"You know everyone in school, right?" He's such a social butterfly, everyone is his friend. You handed him the necktie, "Return this to Yuta Nakamoto."

"You know Yuta?" But you didn't answer him and started walking the opposite way to your first class in English. Johnny's eyes were on you as you entered the class you shared with him, raising your middle finger as you sat down on your chair and slept on the desk. 

The bell rang. English is done. Lifelessly, you walked to the other side of the building to attend your most loathed class of all. Math. 

Everyone was busy reading notes as you sat next to Taeyong. "Did you study?" You asked and he nodded, grinning. "Just open your paper." He groaned and you gave him a glare before the teacher came in with papers in his hand. He asked everyone to keep their notes and handed out the worksheets. 

Your head was aching at all the numbers and letters on the paper. Your eyes glanced at Taeyong's paper, lightly elbowing him to show his answer. The teacher passed your table and Taeyong lightly glanced at his paper then glared at you. 

"Let me see." You whispered when the teacher passed your table. He opened his paper, lightly glancing around as you try to copy what is written. Someone called for the teacher while you were busy copying the numbers from Taeyong's paper then someone called your name. 

"Copying, Ms. Y/N?" the teacher asked that made you turn to him. "Thank you for informing me, Mr. Nakamoto." Nakamoto? You lightly glanced at the guy in glasses next to the teacher. Of course, it’s him. 

You were brought to the detention room after class. An hour of doing nothing. What��s more annoying is the fact that you were given a failing grade in Math already. There’s nothing you can do but hiss in annoyance. 

When you got home, you had an earful from your grandfather about how you’re such a disappointment to your mom and even comparing you to the perfect Johnny. “Get Y/N a personal tutor.” the older commanded your twin brother, “Maybe she’ll stop cheating in exams.” 

You were annoyed. It’s a one-time event. This is your first time copying from Taeyong since you really didn’t know about the Math exam. Why are they all acting like you’re a serious offender? This is all that guy’s fault for snitching on you. 

The next day was more annoying because you came face to face with Nakamoto Yuta, the snitch, who even had the guts to sit in front of you. “He will be your tutor,” Johnny claimed that made you wide-eyed. He’s kidding. “Grandpa already agreed to it. He said if you pass Math, you’ll get back your car.” You glared before sighing. You needed the car back, going on the bus is a hassle and Johnny isn’t even helping you at all. 

Even if you hated and wanted to ruin this guy’s life, he’s your only choice to getting what you want. 

From your usual seat, you were always transferred to sit beside Yuta as per your grandfather’s wishes. If he’s this influential in school, why are you even bothering to study? Yuta is always with you every class and you were annoyed at how he seemed like a bodyguard, making sure that you attend classes, rather than a tutor. He’s quiet, you have to give him that. Always buried in his books. You believe he doesn’t even know your name. 

That was until you pushed all his buttons. 

It’s not because you’re dumb but school is unmotivating for you so you never put in any effort into your subjects especially Math. “You got this wrong again, Y/N.” Yuta exclaimed while pointing at your answer. Wow, he knew your name. “I’ve been explaining this for hours. Are you stupid?” 

“What did you call me?” 

“Stupid,” he said while looking straight at you. “Even a second-grader would know how to multiply numbers.” You hissed before taking the paper and started answering the question properly. Yuta chuckled when you returned the paper to him, checking your answer. “You have such a bad temper.” 

“Piss me off more and you might get the worst temper ever.” You warned but he only smirked that annoyed you more. “Annoying loser!” you muttered under your breath. 

"That's the reason why you don't have any friends." He really is here to annoy you, isn't he? And you have a friend, Lee Taeyong. Pissed off, you pulled the first thing you saw from him, his glasses, then threw them on the ground before stepping on them. 

Johnny's booming voice can be heard in the library and you know, you're in deep trouble already. 

------

"You broke your tutor's glasses?" your grandfather asked, voice rising. You rolled your eyes, poking the beef on your plate before cutting it so small. “Apologize to him tomorrow.” 

You stared at him in surprise. You? Apologize? To that nerd? He started it! “I won’t, just buy him new glasses.” 

“I already did,” Johnny whispered, drinking his juice. 

“See?” You smiled cheekily, “Problem solved.” 

The older man sighed before dropping down his utensils that startled your twin brother. “You’re hopeless, Y/N.” He claimed while glaring at you. “If you don’t apologize to Mr. Nakamoto, I’ll cut off your allowance in half. And we’ll pretend that the discussion about your car didn’t happen.” What? You gasped but he only stood up, making Johnny sigh. 

“Y/N, please be nice to Yuta. He’s been through a lot.”   

-------

You have no choice but to wake up extra early and come to school with Johnny. You were napping on your desk when you felt a thud beside you. Yuta is here. “Is that really Yuta?” You overheard your classmates asked that made you curious. When you raise your head to look at him, you were startled at his shining, glassy eyes staring at you as well. Before you could say anything, a female classmate called his name. “Yuta, do you want to eat tteokbokki with us later?” 

You sighed before taking out your book, tapping a pencil on the cover. “Yeah sure,” Yuta claimed and you inwardly smile, no tutor lesson today. “Do you want to come, Y/N?” The girls were looking uncomfortable so you just shook your head, claiming that tteokbokki is disgusting which made Yuta roll his eyes. “Then I’ll just come to your place later for the tutor session.” A groan escaped your lips. What the hell? 

It was late afternoon when the maid called for you, saying that Yuta is looking for you. Johnny welcomed him and even claimed that he asked the maids to prepare the garden for the session. You were seated in front of him, looking uninterested, books sprawled in front of you as a tower of cupcakes and tea was on another table. “Your house is on another level. Must be nice living in a house like this.” 

You smirked before trying to substitute x with the equation. “It’s nice because I’m always alone.” 

“Why?” He asked, “Johnny seemed so cool. Your grandfather, I met him once, he looks kind.” 

You giggled, multiplying both sides of the equation. “I’m not like them.” You whispered. “I’m stupid and I have such a bad temper.” You focused on the numbers in front of you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Yuta whispered, putting down his pen. “That was insensitive of me to say those things and I understand why you hate me.” You lightly glance at him. What’s with the turn of events? You should be apologizing for breaking his glasses. “But I want to be your friend, Y/N.” 

“My friend?” 

“I don’t have lunch plans. Whenever Taeyong or Johnny leaves you during lunch, I want to sit beside you.” You only stared in curiosity. What is he saying? “Let’s be friends, Y/N.” He held out his hand and you saw your grandfather watching the two of you from afar with a smile on his face. Hastily, you took his hand and shook it, smiling at him. Maybe your grandfather will return your allowance to normal. 

The maid went out with a large bowl which made Yuta smile while thanking her. “I brought tteokbokki. Do you want some?” He asked but you shook your head, giving him a disgusted look. “Just try one.” He poked one tteok covered in orange sauce, showing it to you. “Just say ah.”  

How weird. But you opened your mouth to taste this almighty tteokbokki he loved. It was so chewy in your mouth, the taste of spiciness and sweetness playing in your mouth. “How was it?” 

“Disgusting.” 

You didn’t realize how lonely it is to eat alone if not for Yuta. Whenever Taeyong would eat lunch quickly because of council duties or Johnny with his radio show, Yuta would always sit beside you and offer you dessert. He would ask you if you have trouble understanding something in class when you’re seated next to each other in almost all classes you have. 

“Maybe they’re dating.” You overheard in class once, female classmates looking at you who just entered the room. “Why would Yuta reject you if not?” She was talking to a girl seated in front, touching her hair.  

Another girl came to your table. “Are you and Yuta dating?” 

What? You and Yuta? A chuckle escaped your lips. “Of course not, who would fall in love with that nerd?” You saw how the girl seated glared at you followed by a thump beside you. Yuta laid his head on the desk and the girl scrambled back to her seat just as the teacher came. You shrugged. 

During lunchtime, Taeyong immediately left for a meeting in the council. But unlike any other day, Yuta didn’t sit beside you. It was weird. He was consistent these past few days. Why would he suddenly change? But once again, you shrugged. It’s not even lonely to sit alone. 

You waited the whole afternoon for him to come to your tutor session but he's a no-show which startled you. He never misses a day even if he has part-time jobs to do. And you need him now because tomorrow is your exams in Math, the make and break of your car. 

From Taeyong, you found out that he works part-time in a coffee shop near the school. He looked startled when you came in, even ordering a lot since you'll be studying. Yuta only laughed before taking your order. 

The cake looks unappetizing after you kept poking your fork in it, annoyed at how you cannot understand the equation. Why are there letters in Math? It should just be numbers. "You're substituting it wrong," Yuta mumbled before placing his tray on the table and taking your extra pencil. He leaned closer to write on your paper but your gaze was on him. 

You've been seated next to each other but this is the first time you saw him this close. He's handsome. A boyish charm that you cannot see in anyone else. When he turned to look at you, you blinked in surprise. He's so handsome. His red lips, the high nose, his glassy eyes. "Did you get it?" 

A heavy breath followed by a shake of head, to return your focus to the equation and not the image of Yuta. "How did you get this answer?" You asked, looking at the answer which is way different than yours. Are you getting stupider? 

He sighed heavily then glanced at his wristwatch. "Wait for me. I'll just finish my shift." And you nodded. That was your goal all along. 

But instead of doing some practice exercises, you were focused on Yuta serving drinks. He looks like an invisible person in school but a really charming man outside. Whenever he looks at you, you look away from him and pretend to be busy in your workbook. Why are you so worked up because of him? This is crazy! Yuta is making you crazy. 

He's a nerd. He's annoying. He's such a know-it-all. "Yuta doesn't like you, Y/N." you whispered to yourself then gasped when you realized you said it out loud. To your annoyance, Yuta just passed by your side with an empty tray. Did he hear that? You hope not. 

It was the fifth equation when Yuta sat in front of you, yawning and stretching his arms. He was done with the job and had some break before he had to go to the gas station for his second part-time job. "You have a lot of jobs." You claimed while he checked your work. "Do you need that much money?" 

"I have to pay for my tuition." 

"Why would you go to a private academy if you can't even pay for it?" 

Yuta put down your workbook, showing the mistakes and where you missed the question. "My parents met in that academy so it means a lot to my mom for me to graduate in the same alma mater as her." They did? Then Yuta might be rich. "My dad is filthy rich. She got pregnant but his parents don't want the child. My mom left him." 

"That's just tragic."

Yuta smiled. "You know, it’s the typical rich boy - poor girl love story. It will just end that way." You glanced at him before pursing your lips. "Just try finishing three questions. It's the exams tomorrow, you need rest." Once again, he yawned. "And I have to walk you back home."

You stopped after one equation seeing how he almost fell asleep while waiting for you. He might be tired and you don't want him to be late for the next job. You promised you'll do the remaining exercises at home and show him tomorrow then hailed a cab so he won't have to walk you home. Just to be sure, you promised to message him when you arrive home. 

But you never did. Never messaged him, never answered the remaining problems. All that's running in your mind is him. Yuta Nakamoto. He's not bad yet he's not great either. But something about him is piquing your curiosity. Something about him makes you want to be closer to him. 

"Aish!" you shouted. You should be studying. 

--------

You were surprised when the girls were left inside the room and the guys were brought outside for the test. You cannot copy from Yuta. Maybe it was your grandfather’s plan. Surprisingly, the questions aren’t as hard as you thought they would be. Or maybe you just got smarter. The studying to distract your mind from thinking about Yuta has paid off. 

Taeyong sighed heavily while seated in front of you during lunch. “I think I’ll fail the exams.” You glance at him in surprise. Do you have a different question as him? You asked him the first question which you remember clearly and you had a debate on what the right answer is. When you showed him the solution, Taeyong just whined in defeat. “Wow, you’re teaching me Math now.” he claimed before tapping his chin. “Should I get Yuta as a tutor as well?” 

“You can’t.” You raised your voice at him. “Yuta is mine.” 

Taeyong snickered. “Speaking of him, did you know that he was sleeping while taking the exam?” That took your attention. “I don’t even know if he finished the questions. He’s just out of it.” Now, you’re worried. What happened to him? Why did he just sleep when he’s taking exams? 

“How were the exams?” Yuta asked when you met in the library but you only stared at him. “Is it hard?” 

You shook your head. “Did you finish your exam?” He chuckled while nodding, asking if it was Taeyong who told you. “You finished everything?” 

Again, he nodded. “Don’t worry. I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” You asked him why but he just smiled. “The exams are now done. We’ll just have to wait if you pass to get your car back.” 

You nodded. “You want a ride?” 

Yuta shook his head, smiling at you. “I’ll have to resign as your tutor, Y/N.” You stared at him in surprise. Wait, why? “I’ll have to take a new job…”

“My grandfather can pay you.” But Yuta shook his head. “Why do you need that much money anyway? Are you dating someone?” He smirked before leaning his back on the chair. He didn’t say anything but the smile in his eyes was enough proof to know that he is indeed dating someone. 

Nakamoto Yuta? The nerd? Someone actually had the nerve to ask him out? Someone actually raced you to ask him out. 

You passed by the tteokbokki shop and ordered some of Yuta’s favorite food. It does taste weird, but addicting. You poked one tteok and put it in your mouth, munching on it with a lot of annoyance. Why doesn’t it taste good now? It tastes good when Yuta was feeding you one. You just wasted money on this food. 

You were annoyed. At Yuta. At this girl. He seemed friendly with everyone, it’s annoying. You sat beside Taeyong in class which surprised your friend. “You broke up with Yuta?” he teased that made you roll your eyes. “I thought he’s yours.” You stepped on his foot, earning a yelp from him which made the whole class look at the two of you, even Yuta. 

When the results came out, you rushed to see if Yuta is still the first-rank student. You were worried the whole time when you found out he slept in class. What if he lost the top rank? He lost his scholarship? You grasped your hands together, wishing that he’ll remain in his spot. When you opened your eyes, in front of the rank one student, you beamed at the sight of his name. Yuta Nakamoto. 

He’s still the rank one even if he slept during the exams. Yuta is really amazing. 

Your phone rang and you answered it without even looking at the caller ID, “Where are you?” Yuta. “Did you see your rank?” Wait, what? “I don’t think your grandfather…” A crowd of students came and you almost lost your balance if not for someone who caught you. Him. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” you called then glanced at your phone. You were just talking to each other. “My rank?” 

He smiled. “Twelfth.” You almost ran to the part of the bulletin board that has the top 10-20 rank list. On the twelfth rank is your name, three spots higher than your twin brother and seven spots higher than your bestfriend. You felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned to hug the grinning Yuta. “You did it, Y/N.” He whispered against your ear, “I’m proud of you.”  

You lightly glanced at him. The first person who told you that he’s proud of you. Now, you had an answer to yourself on why Yuta is someone you cannot shake off. He is the first person who believed in you. 

“I’ll treat you to tteokbokki.” Yuta glanced at you in surprise before you took his hand. 

The old woman greeted you and Yuta was surprised when you greeted her back. “We should eat something you like. I’ll treat you.” But you shook your head, licking the sauce from your fingers. “When did you start eating tteokbokki?” 

You shrugged then dipped the tteok to the red sauce. “Why were you on the first bulletin board? Do you think you’ll get the top rank?” A light kick from you under the table made him wince. 

“I thought you might lose your scholarship.” You claimed before eating tteokbokki again. "You were distracted during the exam so I was worried." He stared at you in surprise before smiling. "Shouldn't you stop all these part-time jobs if you want to keep your scholarship?" 

"I lost the gas station gig," he confessed, poking his fork on the tteokbokki. "I'm worried that you didn't come home that night so I skipped work. Johnny told me that you did when I came to your house but I can't sleep that night." 

That night? You were thinking about him that night. "Eomma said someone might be thinking about me." Shit! "But I guess I'm just worried about you." He's what? "But don't mind it." He shrugged before eating the tteokbokki. 

"You were worried?" 

He rolled his eyes, looking at you deadpan. "Of course. What if you fail your exam? Your grandfather's payment will all go to waste." You just munched on the tteokbokki, chewing loudly. "You're enjoying the tteokbokki so much. I thought it's disgusting." 

You shook your head, stuffing your mouth with the chewy tteok. "When did I say that?" 

Yuta chuckled, wiping your sauce-clad finger with tissue. "You're really charming, aren't you?" You rolled your eyes. Why is he shaking you like this? He's already dating another girl. "Just let me save a little more money before asking you out on a date, hmm?" 

What? You choke on the chewy rice cake, coughing at his statement. Ask you out on a date? "I don't want us to be like my parents' story so I need to work hard to at least reach halfway to your world." He munched on the tteokbokki but your eyes remained on him. "Please wait for me before I can take you out officially." 

Is that why he resigned as your tutor? How did this turn into this? "How are you so sure that I'll wait for you?" 

"You said so yourself, I'm yours." He chuckled and you mentally killed Lee Taeyong. "And I do like you." Shit! He did heard you back in the coffee shop. This is so embarrassing. "Even if you don't like me romantically, just let me take you out on one date." 

"Sure." You claimed, "Since you sound so desperate and I'm such a nice girl to reject you." 

Yuta chuckled. "Of course you are." 

“Yuta.”

“Hmm?”

“Treat me to ice cream after this.”

The guy nodded that made you smirk to yourself. This nerd isn’t so bad at all.  

[fatiguing-thoughts]

Change of Heart - Paul Lahote x Reader

Request: “Hey, since you don't feel comfortable writing about the poly imprinting thing the other anon suggested, I have an idea based on what they said that maybe you could write instead. So instead of the reader imprinting on both, a reaction type of thing for when the reader had a crush on one, but falls in love with the other with time. If it is preference style, you can get to show both situations (crush on Embry, but falls for Paul later and vice versa)”

this is the crush on Embry -> falling in love with Paul version

Having a mother who was obsessed with the beach was the reason that your life turned out the way it did. 

That’s where you met your best friend, Embry Call. 

His mother worked at the souvenir shop, she frequently brought him to the beach as well. So time after time of running into each other and playing together as kids-- you grew up hanging out all the time. 

Despite you living and going to school in Forks, you guys saw each other at minimum three times a week. And as you got older, you only hung out more. Even into young adulthood.

You guys did everything together. School dances when your moms forced you into going, going to see the movies either of you were dying to watch, and simply hanging around doing nothing. It was like you were dating, but if dating meant that you were merely best friends. No kissing, the awkward touching of hands here and there. 

But overall, you and Embry connected deeper than anyone else. You would stay up talking all night, picking the brains of one another’s minds. Listening to music together, singing your favorite songs. Sometimes you stared a little too long at his lips, but that was besides the point. You guys were friends. 

I had grown quite the crush on Embry, but I knew deep down that it wouldn’t be worth risking the friendship. I could never risk anything awkward between us. I have never felt this comfortable around another person before, and I doubt that I would find it again. So holding Embry close to my heart as a best friend was an idea that I was well acquainted with. I’d grown to accept it. 

Though, as time went on, he began to gain some newer friends, which was normal. What high school boy didn’t hang out with other boys? The only issue was, it seemed to tear into your Embry time. 

It was fine, really. Embry’s happiness was my top priority. But when he finally introduced me to his friends, I’ll admit I felt pretty excited. To finally meet some new people, to find friendship in those other than Embry. 

Embry was always my best friend, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a bigger circle. He spoke so highly of them all, how could I not be thrilled to meet them? 

So when I did, I could say that I was both incredibly nervous, yet excited. 

“They’re gonna love you.” He reassures me on our way to Jake’s house. 

“How do you know that?” I ask, fiddling with the rip in my jeans.

“Because, I love you. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for. They’re gonna think you’re a lot of fun and super cool, because you are.” He smiles that signature Embry Call grin. 

Friend. Ugh. Get it together, (Y/N). 

“Thank you, Em.” I smile back.

“Of course.” 

The drive to Jacob’s was quick from Embry’s considering they both lived in La Push. Pulling up into the house, Embry led me into the garage where they were working on Jacob’s project car, the rabbit. Embry would never shut up about it, his eyes brighter than the sun whenever he talked about how much fun it was, how he enjoyed finally being able to exercise his mechanic skills. 

“Hey guys, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Jacob, Jared, Quil, and Paul. We have a few classes together.” He points at them as he says their names. 

“Hi.” I wave shyly. 

“(Y/N), I know you haven’t been here yet, but don’t worry. I’ll quickly become your favorite. Don’t stress.” Quil walks over, putting his arm around your shoulder and chuckling. 

“Oh great, thanks.” I roll my eyes. “You really weren’t kidding, Em. He’s nuts.” I giggle. 

“Wow, okay. Thanks for putting in a good word, Embry.” Quil laughs, walking back to where he stood. 

I quickly found myself growing comfortable, no wonder why Embry found good company in these guys. They were all so nice, so down to Earth. 

One in particular caught my attention, Paul. He was handsome, well built for his age. He seemed to be just as friendly as the rest, too. 

I watched as Embry and Jake worked on the engine, peering over the side of the hood. 

“Do you know anything about cars?” A charming voice rings out behind me. 

I turn over my shoulder and see Paul, I felt a blush begin to rise to my cheeks. Why did he get me so flustered for absolutely no reason?

“Uh, yeah. A little bit. Embry talks my ear off about them, plus I have some cars I like myself. But mechanical wise, they run circles around me.” I smirk. 

“Nice. They’re teaching me a lot more, I’m probably at the same level you’re at.” He chuckles, his deep brown eyes piercing into mine. 

“No you’re not, (Y/N) still runs circles around you. I’m the best teacher around.” Embry teases. 

“Well, you heard it here first. Looks like I know more than you about cars.” I tease.

“Might have to teach me some stuff some time.” He smirks. 

I felt the blush creeping onto my cheeks again, so I bent my head down, glancing down at my feet, before returning his gaze. 

“Maybe.” 

Embry looks between us, discomfort slightly showing on his face, which left me a bit confused. 

The drive back to my house was a bit awkward. 

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“I just... I got the vibe that you and Paul hit it off really well. Which would be fine, but he’s a bit of a... player. I just, I don’t want you to go through that. He’s a great friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend.” Embry gently tells me, looking into my eyes with his chocolate brown ones. 

“I see.” I swallow, looking out the window.

I was unsure of what to say. Paul seemed like a nice guy, but Embry wouldn’t steer me wrong. 

Over the next few weeks, I began to spend more and more time with them all. I grew to adore them more than I ever thought I would, they were just as important to me as Embry was now, my romantic feelings finally subsiding for him. Quil quickly became the impish friend that Embry told me he’d be, Jared was an absolute clown, Jake was beyond friendly, very caring. 

And well Paul... Paul was someone that really left me blushing almost constantly. He hung onto every word that left my mouth, and I did the same for him. He was sweeter than sugar to me, even if he was less of that to the rest of the group and everyone else. He had a certain softness in his voice, in his body language with me. Paul talked to me like I was the only person in the room, but Embry’s warning loomed over me like clouds over the rainy Forks sky. 

As time went on, Embry warned me again. He even spoke to Paul about it, apparently. Paul had told me about it one night while we were talking just the two of us. We begun to hang out just the two of us, yet I never let him call it a date as per Embry’s warning. 

While he was at first surprised I wouldn’t go on a date with him, he was persistent because he knew how I felt. He knew the connection we had. He was upset that I always reciprocated the flirting, but was always far too hesitant to make any larger moves. 

“Embry, I haven’t seen any other girls since you brought her to hang out.” 

“I don’t know Paul... I don’t want (Y/N) to be the same as every other girl for you.”

“She’s not, she’s different. You know that. I really like her, I never felt this before. She won’t say yes unless you’re okay with it.” 

“Don’t make me regret this, Paul.” 

“You won’t.” 

Paul would hold my hand when I would get scared during horror movie night. He would pick me up for hangouts for the pure fact that he could drive me home, despite me being able to drive and having my own car. He would give me his hoodies when I would grow cold, whispering about how they looked better on me than him. Paul grew protective over me, always making sure that every adventure we took together, he would be there to make sure I stayed in one piece due to my clumsiness. Paul truly thought I was this fragile piece of glass that could shatter at any moment. 

 He would surprise me with my favorite drink from Starbucks when I was having a rough day at work. The way he would always have to touch me, whether that be resting an arm around my shoulder, holding my hand, or resting a hand on my thigh or lower back. All of the above sending my nerves in a frenzy. He was protective, slightly jealous. He didn’t like when guys checked me out, so he made it known I was his when he would press a kiss to my lips, then smirking at them, pulling me into him. 

 I loved the feeling of when he would pull me into his lap, his strong arms wrapping around me. The way he held me at night, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world-- it was a beautiful feeling. It was crazy to hear the stories of the hot-headed boy, because with me he wasn’t like that. He was patient, kind, and loving to no end. Did he have his moments where his temper would flare up? Of course. Everyone does, but I tried to help him get to where he wanted his temper to be. We worked on new ways to cope, we made a lot of progress for him. 

He was everything you could ask for in a guy, he was nothing Embry warned me about. Everyone noticed that Paul had softened immensely, he was calmed down. He was “whipped” according to the guys, which I didn’t stop him from kicking Jacob’s ass for that one. 

“Damn, Paul. (Y/N) trained you well.” Quil teases, only to be pulled into a headlock.

Our first kiss was sweet, it was gentle. Paul’s large hands held my face like he was holding the most fragile thing in the world. He treated me like a princess. 

“Wanna go get lunch before we hang out with everyone? I’m buying.” He offers. 

“Sure, but you’re not buying my lunch.” I giggle over the phone. 

“Why not? It’ll be a date.” He chimes. 

“I don’t know... What’s in it for me?” 

“Uh, going on a date with the hottest and sweetest guy in all of La Push.” 

“Oh, Jacob’s taking me on a date?” I tease, knowing that would drive him a little nuts. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He chuckles into the phone. 

“I just might be, when’re you picking me up, Lahote?” I giggle. 

“I’m actually outside already. Surprise.” 

So we went out to lunch, and it was really fun. It always was a fun time with Paul. Going to hang out with the guys was great, though something was off with Jared. He played it off, continuing to tease Paul and I. 

Embry grew to support Paul and I, though he told me he was my second pair of eyes. He was watching Paul like a hawk, hoping he wouldn’t break my fragile heart. 

But when Jared got sick with mono and stopped coming around, I had to be there for him. He was beyond hurt when he saw Jared hanging out with Sam Uley. Why would he up and leave the group? No explanation, nothing. Jared avoided all of us like the plague.

Paul was devastated. That was his best friend, how could Jared lie to him? How could he ditch him like it was nothing?

The issue was, is that Paul had a hard time expressing his emotions. Even though he was sad about the situation, he grew to be angry. He would huff and puff, pacing the room, yelling about how Jared was being an asshole and how he had no idea what to do. 

It was fine, really. You knew that he was going through the ringer and he still treated you like a princess. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t even realize how much I was yelling.” He would apologize, walking over to you sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to calm down after your attempts to do so were futile. 

“I understand, you’re going through a rough time right now. But I’m here for you.” I smile, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“I love you.” He presses his forehead against mine.

“I love you, too.” 

Chills ran up my spine, I had felt butterflies like never before. Paul gave me feelings I never knew existed.  

But soon, he grew feverish. His skin was burning hot and he grew testy. He snapped at everyone, and seemingly for the littlest of things. I thought it was strange, as this was a side of Paul I had never seen. We had to leave Jake’s one night, as he grew incredibly protective over me... almost animalistic. He almost lost it on Quil when he started play fighting with me, I just took him out of there, leaving the guys in the garage. I was met with concerned eyes all around, but I knew Paul wouldn’t hurt me... I just had no idea what had gotten into him. 

He held onto me like his life depended on it. 

“I’m scared, (Y/N).” He whispered into my neck. 

“Why Paul?” 

“Jared and Sam... they look like they’re waiting for me. I can’t stand it-- they’re hovering over me all the time. I can’t deal with it.” He huffs. 

His feverish skin almost burning mine, just as it had been the last few days. 

“I’m sorry Paul, maybe try to avoid them?” I offer up my advice, but it met with a mere sigh from his lips. 

“They keep telling me I have to break away from everyone. That I’ll have to leave the friend group, that I’ll have to leave you. They’re lucky I didn’t kick their asses.” He huffs. 

His words shocked me, they left me speechless. Why would they be saying that?

“Why would they say that?” 

“Hell if I knew. I just ran out of there before I punched someone. I know you don’t like when I hit people.” He chuckles.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” I smirk.

But I couldn’t shake his words, I didn’t understand why they wanted him? Why they wanted him to cut us all off? 

He soon fell asleep while I rubbed circles into his back, trying to soothe him once again. I heard my phone go off on the table next to me. 

It was Embry asking if I was okay, to which I told him yeah. He didn’t need to know the worries plaguing my brain. 

But the next few days, Paul got sicker. He started changing before my eyes, growing insanely fast. His body temperature continued to climb. He told me that Sam and Jared wouldn’t leave him alone, but he was only getting angrier at them and holding onto me tighter. 

“They keep saying they don’t want me to hurt you.” He would sigh, his face visibly distressed. 

And then told me that I couldn’t see him for a while. He cut off all the guys completely, and I hadn’t heard from him since; he wasn’t even answering my texts. 

Embry was worried sick about me, despite everyone being upset at Paul’s sudden change and departure from our lives. He would come and check up on me, absolutely stunned to see the shifting moods I had. 

One minute, I was fine and 110% certain that Paul wouldn’t up and leave with no warning, and the next I was a blubbering mess. Embry did his best to make sure that I wasn’t left alone for too long, as he was afraid I would become the next comatose Bella Swan. I mean, kudos to him for caring but that wouldn’t happen. Or maybe just yet, as the longer Paul was gone the less I seemed to care about anything else. It just felt like a part of me was gone, like the puzzle piece fitting my heart together was missing. 

So a few days later, I made some of his favorite soup and made my way over to his house. 

I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. It was locked so I couldn’t let myself in, but I knew where Paul’s bedroom window was. I peeked through and saw him peacefully sprawled out on his bed, the sight bringing both relief and a smile to my face. But then I heard some whooping noises from the back of his house, causing me to investigate. 

I look and see none other than the infamous Sam Uley and Jared Cameron, he looked very different since the last time I had saw him. It felt like forever ago since that night. 

“(Y/N), what’re you doing here?” Sam asks with a concerned tone. 

“I needed to see Paul.” I demand.

“Go home, (Y/N). He doesn’t want you to come around anymore, he doesn’t want to be with you anymore.” Jared looks deep into my eyes, his words punching me in the gut. 

His eyes were hard, as were his features, but I knew he was full of shit. But the words still hurt for just a second. For just a second.

“What the hell are you guys doing to him?” I look at them with eyes set to kill. 

“What? What did he tell you?” Jared asks, eyes widening with concern. 

“Calm down.” Sam urges, putting a hand out in front of Jared. 

“He won’t tell me anything anymore.” I hiss. “But before he stopped answering me he was so afraid of you guys! Always following him around, telling him what to do. Telling him to stay away before he hurts me! Paul would never hurt me, asshole!” 

I was fuming now, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself. Paul was a tough guy, nothing really broke him like their warnings and constant following did. The sudden changes he was experiencing, he had no idea of what to make of it as he was given no answers. 

“I watched him change in front of my very eyes, this is beyond some bullshit about him wanting to leave me, Jared. This is not normal.” I stomp my way over to them. 

“(Y/N), stay back.” Sam’s hand gestures up to me. “Jared, calm down.” 

“Sam, don’t. I’m done with this, I want my boyfriend back. Jared, what the hell got into you, too?” I raise my voice at him, causing him to flinch. 

“Hello? Earth to Jared Cameron? What’s your deal now, asshole?” I yell again, poking his bare chest. 

But that’s when rage took over Jared’s body. Something I had never seen before. Jared was always goofy, so nice. I had really only seen Paul so angry, and even then-- this was a different level. 

“(Y/N), move back now.” Sam yells. 

This time, I listened. I took some hesitant steps back, almost tripping over my own feet. 

Jared’s body was almost vibrating at this point, that’s how fast it was shaking. I just stared in awe, Sam’s voice was booming, though. 

“(Y/N), move back!” He yells again. 

I bring myself to take a few more steps back, but this time I did trip over my feet.

Jared suddenly moved like he was bursting out of his own skin, and in some way he did. Sam pushed him back to create some more distance, but overall in the end-- Jared turned into an enormous wolf. An enormous wolf that snarled at me, but overall didn’t do anything to hurt me. 

“What the hell?” I blink my eyes, before running towards Paul house. 

That’s when I see Paul running towards the situation. 

“Paul, run!” I say, trying to grab a hold onto him, but he gently, but very quickly, shook me off. 

He too, burst out of his own skin, turning into a giant wolf. 

“What?” I whisper to myself.

I watch as Paul jumps onto Jared, listening to their snarls and growling. I stared astonished, as Sam looks over at me with sympathetic eyes. 

After a few moments, Sam orders them to stop. And they did, they walked into the woods and came out with some jean shorts on. 

“Come here.” Sam says, helping me off the ground. 

“Is this... is this what was going on?” I breathe out.

“Yeah, you’re gonna learn a lot today.” He sighs, clearly unhappy about me knowing. 

“I’m sorry.” Jared exhales. “It’s hard to control your anger when this starts, and then I had to lie and everything. I’m just sorry.” He smiles softly. 

“All good, understood now.” I smirk. 

Though I was still uneasy. What did all this mean?

“Paul?” I merely whisper, looking up at his face. 

He had grown a lot, got even more muscular since I had last seen him. But he refused to meet my gaze. 

“Paul, please look at me.” I beg, reaching out to grab his forearm.

He hesitates, almost afraid to. 

“Paul if you think I’m afraid of you, I’m not. Please look at me.” My pleading voice almost cracking. 

I needed to see those deep brown eyes I had loved so much. The ones that brought me endless joy, endless love. But he wouldn’t budge. 

“That’s not what I’m afraid of right now.” He chuckles sadly. 

He was still looking over my head, refusing to meet my gaze.

 “You owe it to the both of you to figure it out, Paul.” Sam nods. 

“What? What’re you talking about.” I turn to Sam. 

But as I turn my head to look back at Paul, I finally caught his gaze. A small smile crept on his face, until our eyes met. 

That’s when his jaw fell slack, his face completely softened. It was like he was stuck in a daze of sorts. 

But what I felt was good. I felt like the world had stopped spinning, I felt like Sam and Jared were gone, it was only Paul and I. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as this overwhelmingly great feeling pressurized around my entire body. This was something far more intense than what Paul and I usually had felt, and even before I thought we had intense feelings. 

No, this was different. 

I had no idea how to even stand anymore, I felt like my knees were going to give out.

“Finally, some good news.” Jared huffs, grabbing both of us out of our trance. 

“Okay, please explain things.” I look back to Paul. 

“Okay.” He breathes a sigh of relief, before he pulls me into a rib crushing hug, spinning me around. 

I felt the air leave my lungs, this actually hurt. He sometimes accidentally hugged me too hard, but this was surreal. 

My breath hitched as I whimpered out and “ow” which caused Paul to quickly let go, profusely apologizing. 

“Sorry, I forget my own strength. Still not completely used to it.” 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Okay, so let me get this straight. Vampires run rampant through Forks and the rest of the Olympic Peninsula? Right, so that’s what made you guys phase. And then you can’t be around people for a while because it’s an enormous secret that only the pack and their imprints can know. And Paul imprinted on me, but I still don’t know what that exactly means, but we can go over that. But then, you guys protect everyone from said vampires and destroy them. Now you’re super warm and strong and the rest of the group you expect to join soon? Because you all have it in your blood?” I ask, looking at Sam.

“Well, you seem to really listen. But yes, It’s likely that Quil and Jacob will, we don’t know so much about Embry but it’s possible. Has he been acting strange?” Sam raises an eyebrow. 

“He texted me about a fever earlier, but he’s been normal enough.” 

“Well, you suddenly disappearing might set him off.” Jared chuckles. 

“What? I can’t see him anymore?” 

“Not until he phases, any of them. The secret is important.” Sam looks at me with empathetic eyes, Paul’s hand immediately resting on my lower back. 

“I have to disappear out of my best friends’ lives? I don’t even phase!” 

“It doesn’t matter, it’s too much of a risk right now. Over time, we’ll see what happens.” 

My heart sank, how would they forgive me for disappearing indefinitely? For blowing them off? I was growing anxious at the thought. 

“They’ll forgive you when they understand, it just takes time.” Sam nods. 

“Okay.” I whisper. 

“Alright, Paul. Explain imprinting.” Jared smirks, looking over at us. 

“Right now?” Paul looks at Sam, but Sam only nods his head, signaling for him to begin explaining. 

“Paul? Just talk to me, we always talk about anything and everything.” I lay my hand on his comfortingly. 

He seemingly melted at my touch, just as always.

“Well, the thing is, it’s not our choice. And I want you to hear me out before you say anything, please.” 

“Of course.” I grew nervous at his words, but I knew that was nervous, too.

“Well, so it happens to some of us, not all of us get so ‘lucky,’ if you will. It happens when you see a certain person for the first time after you phase. When you look into their eyes, it’s just... it’s pure bliss. You just know, you know it’s your soulmate. But, that doesn’t mean romantic, it could be platonic. In reality, it’s up to them. But for us, you’d do anything, be anything for them. A friend, protector, a lover. We just... we need to be near them. I need to be near you, and I always did, even before all of this complicated shit. I was always protective, but I can’t imagine I’ll ease up, it’ll probably get worse so I’m sorry in advance, but overall, I want you to know that you hold the reigns.” He softly smiles, looking into my eyes with a pleading look.

“Oh, I see.” I murmur, looking down at my hand for a second, trying to process the situation. 

His face fell, and it looked like someone punched him in the gut, Jared and Sam grew a bit worried. 

“Wait, that wasn’t me rejecting you. I’m just... I’m thinking. It’s just a lot to take in. I love you, more than anything. I’m glad it was me and not someone else, I am. As long as you’re happy about that. But I just need to understand it. I feel a physical pull to you, so I feel it, too.” I smile softly, thinking about when he refused to look into my eyes. 

“I’m very happy that it was you.” He grabs onto my hand.

“So why didn’t you want to look into my eyes?” I mumble. 

“Because I didn’t want to bare the thought of it not happening with you, though I don’t think I could change anything about us, ever. Imprint or not, (Y/N), you’re stuck with me.” He chuckled. “But only if you want me.” 

“Of course I want you.” I nudge his shoulder. 

After that, it was just playing the waiting game, waiting for my best friends to phase, too. I was left with so many calls and texts I couldn’t answer. Embry showing up to my house, knocking to no avail. Leaving, sadness deep in his eyes. Though, he eventually became angry. I knew he was going to phase soon, I watched from afar how he was growing more hostile, and how he was changing physically. Soon, I’d have my best friend back. 

Paul was right, he grew more protective, more worried about my every move. It was clear to us all that he was more protective than Sam and Jared were over Emily and Kim. It was easier to understand everything with Kim and Emily being apart of this all, as they knew where I was coming from. 

But, it was the waiting game that was killing me. Thankfully, Paul was around to pick up the pieces after leaving my best friends behind, no notice given. He held me when I grew sad, feeling guilty for having to leave their lives. 

Paul was unwavering, loving me endlessly.  __________________________________ Word Count: 4796

[dakarimainink]

Invitation

WARNING: 18+, SMUUUUUT, alcohol, public fingering, public orgasm, cocky attitude, bodily fluids, protected fucking, oral female receiving, multiple orgasm for female, orgasm, slight humiliation, a splash of angst, swearing, a hint of sub/dom, clit slapping (because lord have mercy)

Pairing: Dave York x You (Reader)

Wordcount: 7K

Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own. omfg... this is a fuckin' mess!!!! this is the most warnings I've applied too.... This is my first work with Dave York and I loved how it turned out! Probably going to hell for this too

it started as a small idea and as I wrote, it just became longer and longer. 7K??? gah! I just fell straight for Dave York when I watched the equalizer 2 and omfg!!!

Anyway, just a second note to this story, you (reader) is a bit of a hopeless mess for this guy, just sayin'....

You're invited to the CIA gala dinner by Dave York and you accept.

Masterlist

It was the annual CIA gala dinner. Somehow, Mr. York had decided to bring you – his secretary – to the dinner, as his wife were out of town with the kids.

You had never been to such an event before and were worried perhaps you wouldn’t fit in. You certainly didn’t have the clothes for it, so you sought help from your friend, who had pulled you through nearly every clothing store in Washington. Dresses weren’t your thing, they were clingy, uncomfortable and the biggest crime of them all, no pockets.

After following tediously several YouTube videos on how to do makeup and hair, you finally were ready to leave for the gala. Your friend had suggested getting a coat with the dress, but you knew it was a one-time thing and therefore opted for your own black long-coat. Your friend had also lent them their silver clutch bag to match the little jewellery you had. You barely remembered last time you wore a necklace, but there it hung around your neck. A small little diamond droplet you had inherited from your mother (or was it grandmother?).

The doorbell rang and pulled you out of your thoughts. Your heart thumped a little harder as you walked towards your front door. You were nervous, not quite sure on how to behave or talk or even if you would recognise anyone there. The people you did work with – the other secretaries and office workers – weren’t even going to the event. It was only for the people higher up and you had received some strange looks when you told them.

You admitted to being honoured that Mr. York had asked you of all people, that he didn’t even chose to go alone. He could have even asked Alexis – a woman with style and class sitting higher up than yourself – as she was into him. The only reason you knew was because she never shut up about it whenever she engaged in conversations with you by the coffee machine.

She would gush about him like a schoolgirl, which was uncharacteristically of her. Whenever he passed by, not even glancing in your direction, she would almost squeal her heart out once he was out of sight. You knew she was only engaging with you in order to know Mr. York’s schedule and meetings, but you weren’t giving up that information so easily. You took your job seriously, mostly because you were desperate to keep it as you had been going from one workplace to the other for two years.

You admitted to yourself he was a good looking man, always cleanshaven, neatly dressed and always carried himself with such high authority. But he was married with children and in your book, that was hands off. You weren’t sure if it was Alexis who had smitten you or if his authoritative aura and stern voice whenever he asked you to do something, had led you to sometimes dream of him. But you had slapped yourself mentally and told yourself to not pursue it further than your dreams.

You remembered once she asked you why you kept calling him Mr. York, he had a first name after all. You had said truthfully, you did it out of respect, but there was another reason as well. You were afraid that if you called him by his first name, you would trick yourself into thinking you would ever have a chance with him. The only time you did say his first name, was when your fingers were deep inside your drenching pussy, moaning out his name as you came undone.

You brushed the crease on your high cut black dress before reaching for the door handle. You knew it was him on the other side who had come to pick you up.

You opened up the door and found Mr. York standing tall with his back to the door, looking at your front porch. He turned around and his eyes widened at your presence. They drew across your body as his lips parted with a slow exhale. His eyes lingered for a moment on your exposed leg before they drew up again to meet your eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N you look…” His eyes roamed your body again, taking in the sight of you before locking eyes with you once more. “Divine.”

Mr. York was particular with his words. He believed choosing once words carefully would aid one to a clearer understanding of once intentions. The fact that he chose to use “divine” to describe you, sent delicious shivers down your spine.

“Thank you, Mr. York.” You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. “You look handsome.” You added, trying to avert attention from yourself. And he was mouth-watering handsome; dressed in a dark blue three piece suit, white shirt and black tie. His hair was styled and he was newly shaven.

He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets and smirked at your compliment. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, just let me get my coat and clutch bag.” You turned around, grabbed your coat and swung it around your body before sliding your arms in. You picked up your bag and made sure you had everything you needed. You locked your front door and followed Mr. York outside.

He opened the door to his black BMW and held your hand as you sat down into the passenger seat. He closed the door after you and got around and into the driver’s seat.

As he sat down, the smell of his spicy cologne hit your nose and you inhaled deeply. As you exhaled, you realised he was looking at you curiously. You cleared your throat and felt a heat wash over you. You reached for the seatbelt and secured it.

He did the same before starting the engine. The roar of the motor startled you and you held onto your bag. He placed his hand on the shift stick and looked at you. “Everything okay?” He asked softly.

You swallowed thickly, trying hard not to rub your thighs together as his eyes lingered on you. “Y-yes, just a bit anxious.” You admitted and shifted in your seat. You darted out your tongue to dampen your lips. His eyes immediately snapped to your shimmering mouth and you couldn’t help but nervously smile.

“There’s no need to be, I’ll take care of you.”

Your lips parted at his words. Oh god how you wanted this man to tend to you and your desires. You pressed your thighs together as you looked away, trying hard to be as discreet as possible. You could feel his gaze lingering on you, which made you squirm on the inside, fighting the urge to throw yourself at the man sitting next to you.

The engine roared again before you drove off to the gala.

~~~

On arrival, a man dressed in a black tuxedo opened the door for you and assisted you in getting out. You decided to leave your coat in the car, as you were told the event would be completely indoors.

A second man held the door open for Mr. York before he handed the man his keys to park the car. You stood still as you waited for Mr. York to arrive by your side, your eyes wandering the tall outside walls and windows, a warm light emitting from inside.

You walked nervously next to him, your fingers clutching onto your bag as you stepped up the small flight of stairs to the entry. Mr. York handed the invitations over to the man by the entrance before the door was pushed open by a second man. A mellow glow of light shone through and a wall of chatter hit your ears.

As you passed the threshold your eyes widened at the amount of people grouped up all around the grand ballroom. Great chandeliers hung from the ceilings above the many round tables decorated with expensive dining ware and huge vases overfilled with big bouquets of flowers. There was a golden glow all around the room, making it almost like a lucid dream.

Your presence caught people’s attention as you stood by the door. You gulped nervously as you felt eyes burning into you. You wanted to run and hide. You wanted to curl up in Mr. York’s embrace and melt away. You sensed a sting of regret as you stood there like a piece of exhibition for anyone to ogle at.

Your eyes widened as you felt a warm hand on your exposed lower back. You turned your head and met a pair of calm brown eyes. He leaned close to your ear. “Relax, Y/N.” He whispered, the breath tickling your skin.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Everyone’s looking.” You mumbled back, feeling small in such a huge room with high-ranking people.

“I can’t blame them; the view is stunning after all.” He smirked and straightened up. A man dressed in the same outfit as the men outside, held up a tray with champagne glasses. Dave picked up one and handed it to you. You looked at him questioning. “You might as well enjoy it all.”

You took the glass from him and took a sip. The taste was crispy with a hint of apple. He retrieved his hand from your back and held it in front of you. “I won’t let anyone get near you.”

You glanced at his hand and believed him. Your eyes darted at the several hungry-looking men before placing your hand in his. He gave it a small squeeze before leading the way into the room.

“Thank you, Mr. York.”

He scoffed in amusement. “No need to be so formal, Y/N. Call me Dave, I insist.” Your eyes met and for a moment, the buzzing around you drowned out. You could stay connected with them until the end of time. He guided you through the crowd of people, giving a nod here and a shake there as you walked. You didn’t recognise anyone or any of the names as Dave greeted them one by one.

“Ah, Dave. It’s good to see you.” A man dressed in a black and white suit came wandering over to you with a woman next to him in a red dress. “And who is this sweet little bird?” His eyes roamed your body and lingered on your chest. “Didn’t know you had a mistress on the side, Mr. York.” He winked and looked at Dave next to you, who had a stern frown painted on his face.

You uncomfortably took a long sip from your champagne, feeling out of place with a hint of disgust the minute the man had said his first word approaching you.

Dave’s arm immediately went around your waist and pulled you a little closer. “Mr. Brown, this is Y/N.” You could feel the heat radiating from him through his suit. “Y/N, this is Michael Brown and his wife Alexis Brown.”

It took you a moment to register it was in fact Alexis from the office. This would explain why he didn’t invite her. Your eyes met and you could see the jealousy drip from her pores as she gave you the most toxic smile you had ever seen someone give you.

“Ah, the secretary.” She scoffed. “Wife busy, Mr. York? I thought you would at least settle for something more…” She wiped her upper lip with her tongue. “… séduisant.”

You furrowed your brows at the last word. You had no idea what it meant but you sure as hell knew there was something venomous behind it. It made your blood boil and all you could think of was spitting something back at her, but what? You didn’t even know what she said and it just frustrated you further.

“Alexis, the day I want to invite a snake, I’ll make sure to keep you in mind.” Dave bit back and his words took you all by surprise. “By the way, how is Jonathan at eleventh floor? I heard he helped you with a copying issue last week.”

Your jaw dropped.

Alexi’s eyes narrowed.

Michael’s lips turned thin. “No need to ruin the mood, Mr. York. We get your point.” Michael said through clenched teeth. “We’ll leave.” He grabbed Alexis’ wrist and pulled her with him as they stomped through the crowd.

You looked up at Dave who kept his eyes at the couple until they were gone. He turned to you and placed his hands on both your arms. “Are you okay?” He asked concerned, as if you had been hit by a truck, which it felt like considering the scene that just unfolded right in front of you. His thumb lightly caressed your skin and you felt your knees tremble slightly.

“I’m just…” You stumbled at a loss for words. The mixture of alcohol, his presence and caress made your head swim. “What did she say?”

He gave you a half smirk and let his hands fall to his side. “Doesn’t matter, it was rude and she got what she deserved.” He looked around the room, noticing the crowds were wandering towards the tables. “Let’s find some seats.” He took your hand in his and led you through the room.

Dave held your chair and assisted you in sitting down. Once seated he sat down in the chair next to you, sliding the chair a little closer to yours. You could feel the warmth emit through his clothes and you swallowed thickly. Inhaling once again his musky scent and exhaled slowly. Fuck he smelled good.

You quickly reached for your champagne glass and downed the whole drink. You didn’t remember the last time you had drunk alcohol and realised it was probably a mistake to even drink it, as the liquor had a pretty fast effect on your body, especially considering you had only eaten breakfast that day.

Your eyes roamed the faces of the table, but you realised there was no point to it, as you didn’t recognise any of them. You hadn’t even seen their faces before, let alone even heard their names. You kept your hands twiddling in your lap as you kept looking down on the big round plate with nothing on top. You could feel a slight growl in your stomach and darted your gaze around to make sure no one heard it.

It would be hard of course, as everyone around you were too busy chatting with each other. Some were talking about finances, others about their families and Dave –

“Well yes, unfortunately my wife is out of town this weekend, but luckily I was accompanied by this lovely lady.” You felt a hand gently wrap around one of your twiddling hands, his fingers brushing against your thigh as he grabbed it. You inhaled sharply as your eyes locked with his. “Y/N, I would like to introduce you to the director of public affairs; Caleb Wallace.”

You put on your warmest smile and reached your hand over to him. He gladly shook it with a firm grip. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Dave told me you’re working as his secretary and that he is very satisfied with your work.”

Your eyes jumped to Dave who seemed to hold by that statement. You weren’t sure if he was lying or not, but you decided to take it. If he had said it, then he probably meant it.

“Well, I wish he had told me those words as well.” You chuckled jokingly.

Caleb laughed with you, finally letting go of your hand. “Why yes, isn’t that always the struggle. Praise is often heard by the ones it’s not directed at.”

You leaned back and saw the stern underlying face on Dave. You gulped as his eyes barely narrowed onto you and you felt your heart drop. You realised your mistake already and cursed yourself for drinking the champagne.

He turned his head to Caleb with a grin, joining in on the joke, but you knew he was upset with what you had said. “Well, I am sure she will see the value of her hard work once we go over the yearly results and the bonus she might get.”

You turned away from the men and chewed on your inner cheek as you stared back at the plate in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat when a man suddenly leaned on your left and poured champagne into your empty glass. You were about to protest when you felt a squeeze on your hand. You looked down and found Dave was still holding it.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea I have any more.” You mumbled as the waiter continued to pour drinks for the rest of the table.

Dave leaned closer to you. “You don’t have to drink it, but it’s nice to have an option, isn’t it? I also heard it pairs good with the meal we’re soon to be served.” He winked and leaned back before turning back to Caleb.

You stared at the bubbly glass and agreed, it was nice to have an option. And you believed if you were to survive this evening, you needed some liquor courage. Out of habit, you reached for the glass and took a sip as you felt the anxiety linger as some eyes continued to glance at you from around.

The meal was served; slow cooked brisket with wine and mushroom sauce, served with side of homemade creamy mashed potatoes, along with a slightly buttered and grilled zucchini and squash vegetables.

Your mouth watered instantly the smell hit your nose and you dampened your lips in anticipation. You picked up your fork and knife and begun to eat. The room almost fell silent as everyone ate their served meal. The taste was better than you imagined and your stomach were silently thanking you for finally eating something.

As you ate, the older woman sitting next to you on your left had begun a light conversation with you. When you told her you were a secretary, she had really shown interest, as she said it was how she had first begun working for the CIA.

“Never let men walk all over you, you hear me?” She had begun sternly. “If anyone tries anything funny, if they even step a toe over your personal line, you make sure to tell them.”

You knew her words were meant as good, but you couldn’t help but notice a slight tinge of toxicity in her tone. She must have gone through quite a bit of struggle to give such a warning to you, but you knew this yourself, considering the struggle you went through on your third full-time job. You had made sure to clap back at him when you saw him go from annoying you to the newest girl at work.

You finished your meal and alternated from having a conversation with Caleb and Dave, to the older woman next to you, Rosa Shell.

As you were turned to Rosa, you felt something bump into your knee. You looked down underneath the tablecloth and saw Dave had widened his legs apart as he was speaking with Caleb. The movement took you by surprise and you couldn’t help but notice the slight bulge growing in his trousers. You darted your eyes up to the flower bouquet adorning the middle of the table and shallowly breathed through your lips.

“Is everything alright, my dear?” Rosa asked and took your hand.

You cleared your throat before turning back to her. “Yes, just… it’s a bit warm in here.” You lied. Although it wasn’t a complete lie, the mix of alcohol and Dave’s innocent touch had made your ears burn.

Rosa nodded in agreement. “It sure is. Why don’t we, after dessert, step outside for some air.”

“Dessert?”

And as you said those words, a plate adorned with a chocolate souffle was placed in front of you. You blinked down at it, not being prepared for a dessert to be served. You shifted in your chair and glanced over at Dave who seemed preoccupied talking with Caleb and another man next to him again.

You were about to take a bite of your souffle, when you felt a hand rest on the middle of your thigh. Your eyes widened and you looked down, seeing it was Dave’s hand. You breathed as slowly and controllably as you could, trying not to let it get to you.

You took your first bite as you chose to ignore the heat enveloping between your legs. The chocolate melted on your tongue and you felt your body relax a little, until you felt a light squeeze on your flesh. You turned your head slowly and met a pair of dark brown eyes. You held your own breath as you scanned his face. His fingers were gently rubbing into your skin and you felt your panties getting wet already.

There was a smirk hiding on his lips as he leaned closer to you. “You seem a bit flustered, Y/N.” He whispered. “Could it be because you haven’t had any relief all day?”

You titled back and looked at him with wide and confused eyes. How did he know? And how can this man have such an effect on you? He’s just resting his hand on your thigh.

He let out a scoff. “You don’t think I noticed your dilated pupils, trembling breath and rubbing thighs in the car?”

You swallowed thickly as a blush crept up your cheeks. You felt your whole body heating up as his fingers reached between the slit on your dress and to the inside of your thigh. You inhaled sharply at the touch of his fingers against your skin.

“Mr. York…”

“Dave.” He reminded you with a dark gaze.

“Dave…” You corrected yourself. “I don’t think…” His fingers slowly slid up your thigh along your ever heating flesh.

“Think what?”

Your jaw trembled. “I don’t think this is appropriate.” You squeezed out, trying to hold your composure.

At the apex of your thigh, he dug his fingers into your skin. “But rubbing your thighs together and spreading that sweet aroma of yours in my car is?”

You let out a shuddered breath and wrapped your left hand around his wrist. You wanted to push him away, but your body was already betraying you and you let him close the gap to your aching mound.

His fingers brushed against the fibres of your panties and a dark grin grew on his lips. You saw he felt it and your ears burned red. He tilted his head in a mocking way as his fingers pressed against your clit. Your lips parted at his touch and your fingers dug into his skin.

“Don’t.” You whispered, begged.

His fingers circled your clit slowly. “Don’t what?” He asked, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

Before you could reply, his fingers slid between the folds of your clothed mound, feeling your juices seep through the fibres. Your right hand snapped to his thigh and you held your breath as he teased you.

Your jaw trembled as you tried to speak up.

“Don’t what, Y/N? We need to communicate in order to understand each other.”

Oh, he was enjoying this. You could see the mocking glee spread across his face as he continued to massage your nub.

You took a deep shuddering breath, ready to tell him to retrieve his hand from your dripping cunt and leave you be, but…

“Don’t stop.”

Fuck…………………………………

He seemed just as surprised as you were. His lips parted in disbelief as he scanned your face.

You tried to speak up again, to say that’s not what you meant, but it was what you meant. God, you had been thinking about having this man fuck you for weeks and now he had his fingers rubbing your soaked panties in the middle of a gala dinner, surrounded by high ranking people you would probably never see again.

He hooked your panties to the side and as soon as his warm fingers slid between your folds, you squeezed your hand on his thigh. He pushed two fingers into your mound, massaging your walls and your eyelids fell heavy.

He leaned close to your ear. “Keep your composer.” He ordered and rubbed your clit with the heel of his palm.

You clenched your jaw as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You let go of his wrist and forcefully placed your hand on top of the table, trying hard to not moan as you felt your walls tighten around him. You bit your lower lip and stared at the flowers in front of you.

You couldn’t believe Dave York was fingering you in public like this. Not only could it expose you, but it could get you both fired. It could easily ruin both of your lives, but here he sat; fingers deep and eyes fixated at the restraint on your face.

He felt your legs quiver and knew you were at the verge of coming. A smirk grew on his lips as he rubbed your clit faster, pressing harder into you.

Your fingers grasped at the table as you clenched around his fingers. Your abdomen tightened and you almost choked on your breath as you forced yourself to not cry out in pleasure. Your whole body were set on fire and you coughed in order to get something out of you. You tilted your head back as you inhaled deeply with lips parted wide. You breathed out shuddering and swallowed thickly. You lowered your head, terrified of meeting anyone’s eyes.

Dave retrieved his hand and you both saw his fingers shimmer in the low glow from the chandeliers. He admired it for a moment before leading it up to his mouth and cleaned them with his mouth, sounding a low hum from his chest.

Rosa turned to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. “My dear, are you alright? You’re at the brim of sweating.” She asked with a worried look.

You kept your head low as you stared at the souffle on your plate. You were still on your high wave and had no way of speaking.

Dave placed his hand on your forehead and your eyes widened as you smelled the lingering aroma of your juices from his fingers. “Hmm, you’re very warm, Y/N. Perhaps I should take you home.”

You nod. It’s all you can do. He gets up from his chair and assist you in standing up. You leaned onto him as your legs still felt like jelly.

Fuck, it had been a long time since you had come that hard. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he made you come as well. You barely remembered the last time you even got laid. The thoughts made you squirm inwards. You just begged no one else could smell your pussy as you made your way out to the car.

~~~

You opened your clutch bag and fiddled around to get out your keys. You felt Dave’s eyes burn into the back of your neck. You pulled out your keys and froze, feeling flustered at what had happened during the dinner. A tinge of irritation and embarrassment washed over you as you thought back on you coming by the table.

You whipped around and gave him a stern look. It was time you told him you shouldn’t have done it and you expected him to never do such a thing again.

“That was not okay.” You barked out, trying hard to be upset about the situation. Deep down you knew you enjoyed it, having him play with you like that. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and cocked his head to the side. “It didn’t sound like it when you told me to not stop.” He began casually. “It didn’t feel like it when you were already soaked before I could reach that aching cunt of yours.” He took a step closer to you, making you press your back against the cold door. “It didn’t look like it when your whole body shuddered at the orgasm I gave you.” He raised his hand to your cheek and gently stroked it. “It didn’t smell like it when that sweet honey of yours seeped between your thighs and it most certainly didn’t taste like it when I enjoyed the hint of you on my fingers.”

His words had you panting as he held your chin in a tight grip. You were dripping once again and you were about to press your legs together, when his knee was placed between your thighs. Your lips parted in surprise as you met his eyes.

“Aroused?” He asked in a fruity and teasing tone. You swallowed thickly as you breathed between your parted lips. He glanced down at your legs pressing against his knee. He shook his head with a smirk before his eyes snapped to yours. He scanned your face with a stern look. “I want you to unlock that door of yours and then I’ll give you a choice.” He loosened his grip on your chin and peeked at your plump lips. He swiped his thumb across your lower lip. “Either you tell me good night and I will leave without question. We will pretend as if this evening never happened and you will continue to work as my secretary. Or…”

You had already decided that the first option was the best. You had to set down your foot and leave this night behind you.

He dipped his head down and brushed his lips against yours before tilting back again, looking at you. Your head moved forward, wanting to kiss him before you forced yourself back. The movement made him smirk. “You let me in and I will make you come twice more.” He whispered.

You felt like someone had smacked you across the face as his words hit your eardrums. Did he just…? Your mound screamed at you to just fuck this man right there. You gaped at him in disbelief.

He let go of your chin and took a step back, giving you room to think and to breathe. Your legs immediately clapped and you pressed them together, feeling embarrassment wash over you at how turned on you were. You were glad you had the door to lean on as you felt your knees already struggling. But no, you couldn’t let this man do this to you. You had to say no. You had to.

He stood unbothered in front of you with hands in his pockets. He kept his eyes on your face, trying to see what was going on inside.

You gulped and turned around, keys in hand and guided the key to the lock with a shaky hand. You struggled to get it in and it didn’t take long until his hand wrapped around yours and helped you steady your trembling. The heat of his body seeped through your coat as he leaned into you. You heard him inhale your scent deeply and you couldn’t help but exhale unsteadily.

You managed to turn the key yourself and open the door. You stepped across the threshold and turned around to find him standing still. He was looking at you patiently, waiting for you to make your choice.

Good night. Good night. Good night. Good night. You chanted it like a mantra inside your head as you held his gaze. You’re not welcome in. You’re not welcome in. You’re not welcome in.

You’re not wel- “Come in.”

Oh, for fucks sake…………………………………

He dampened his lips as he dragged his fingers through his hair. He sauntered past you and into your entry hall. You shook your head at yourself. I need more self-control, what is wrong with me.

You closed the door and turned to him. He was standing sideways, looking up and down your body. The stare made your skin heat up immediately and a blush crept to your cheeks. It was already too late. Your body had spoken. Your mouth had spoken. Every part of you yearned for this one man who were now standing in your hallway, scrutinising every inch of your delicate frame.

You licked your lips and caught your lower lip with your teeth. You didn’t know where this was going. Perhaps he had said it as a joke? To test you. Oh god, what if you had failed. You were about to open your mouth, when he took three long strides towards you and pressed you against the front door. The lion had you cornered and your body cried for more.

You inhaled sharply as his hands roamed down your waist and he placed fervent kisses on your neck and along your jaw. He caught your lips and begun a slow dance with your tongue. His hands slid up your body and squeezed around your breasts. You moaned into his mouth and he kneaded the flesh, surely to leave bruises the next morning. You wrapped your arms around his neck and felt your pussy drip with excitement.

He grabbed your wrists and placed them above your head against the door. He ended the kiss, hungry and determined eyes met your aching ones. “Keep them there.” He ordered and trailed kisses along your jaw and down your throat.

You gasped for air as he slowly went down to his knees. You looked with wide eyes down at him. He tilted his head back and met your gaze. His eyes were dark with desire as he grabbed the hems of your slit in your dress. You breathed faster as he fisted the silk between his fingers.

A loud rip sounded through the house as he tore the dress apart. You let out a cry of surprise as he smirked up at you. The slit, once ended at your thigh, was now open all the way to your navel.

“Legs apart.” He growled, already smelling your arousal. You did as you were told and he bent forward, biting your inner thigh. Your arms flew down to his hair in plea. He lifted his hand and gave your cunt a slap, eliciting a yelp of surprise and pleasure. “I instructed you to keep your arms above your head.” He reminded you and you heaved for air as you rose them above your head again.

He kissed and nibbled at your flesh as he moved closer and closer to the apex of your thigh. You were fighting against moving your arms as he closed in on your aching mound.

He hooked the sides of your panties and pulled them down slowly. He inhaled deeply as the smell of your honey reached his nostrils and he let out a shuddering breath. You kept looking down on him, seeing how he admired the sight in front of him. He tilted his head slightly back and caught your eyes. He held it as he moved closer and you could feel his hot breath on your skin.

He drew the flat of his tongue between your petals and growled as he tasted you on his tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut as he circled your clit with his tongue. He rose his hand and pushed two fingers into your dripping cavern. You moaned out as he massaged your inner walls.

Your arms lowered down and you wrapped one hand around the door handle for support and one hand grabbed your breast, kneading the flesh to soothe the sexual frustration building within you. He pressed his fingers deeper into you and it made you buck your hips forward. He jerked out of you and snapped his head back. Before you could look down on him, you felt a sting on your pussy and a cry of pleasure left your trembling lips.

“Stand still.” He snarled. You looked down at him through heavy eyelids and nodded apologetically. No one had treated you like this; dominating your movement. Your body loved every part of it.

His expression softened and he dove straight between your legs again. He lifted up your leg and placed it over his shoulder. With three fingers in and the flat of his tongue pressing on your clit, you felt your knees starting to shake and your walls clench.

He sucked and circled your clit as he curled his fingers in, massaging your g-spot. A shock shot through your body and you gasped for air as your stomach clenched. “Dave…” You rasped when you tripped over the edge. Your body lit up and delicious sparks flew through your veins as you came undone. Both your hands grasped at his hair and he growled as he lapped up every drop dripping out of your pussy.

He rose to his feet and crashed onto your lips immediately. You could taste yourself on his tongue as it made you groan. Your fingers entangled into the back of his hair and you lightly tugged at it as you felt his erection against your abdomen.

He broke the kiss and placed wet kisses on your neck, sucking gently on your pulse. “Are you protected?” He murmured against your skin as he worked the clasp on his belt.

You cursed at yourself. You had stopped taking pills about a year ago, finding it a waste of money as you didn’t have a boyfriend. “N-no.” You stuttered.

He reached into his inner suit jacket pocket. He pulled out a thin foil packet and gave you a wink. “I had an intuition.” He smirked proudly. He pulled the jacket off and threw it to the side, letting it land on the hallway bench.

He unzipped his trousers and pulled out his throbbing cock. You gaped down at the sight of it, seeing the precum on his head glisten in the light. He held up the packet by your mouth and looked at your lips. “Bite.” He ordered with a breathy voice.

You bit down on the corner of the pack and he pulled it to the side, making a tear. He pulled the condom out and rolled it onto himself. He pulled your leg up and placed himself by your opening. He kissed you hard as he slowly pushed himself inside you. Your walls moulded to his entry as he pushed all the way in, kissing your cervix.

You both moaned heavily as you were connected, revelling on the incredible feeling. He pressed his forehead against yours and sighed heavily. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He rasped.

You let go of his hair and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. He grabbed the hem of your dress and pushed it to the side. His hand slid around your other thigh and he pulled you up. You immediately wrapped your legs around his hips and he pressed you harder against the door, his cock going deeper into you. You snapped your head back against the door and let out a cry of pleasure.

He pushed out of you before slamming in again, forcing the air out of your lungs. His hips moved back and forth in a passionate pace. Your walls sucked him in every time he pulled out and pushed him out whenever he slammed in. You felt his cock throb inside your cunt as he continued to fuck you to oblivion.

You dipped your head forward and left fervent kisses on his neck and jawline. He moved his head back and caught your lips, kissing you hard as he felt your walls clench around him. “I need you to come for me.” He gasped between kisses. “Come for me.”

You broke away from the kiss and pressed you head against his shoulder as he thrusted harder into you. You knew if anyone walked past your home, they would hear the door slam in its hinges and the lock rattle. You loved how he wasn’t careful with you, that he didn’t think you were a porcelain doll easily broken. It made your head swim.

Your abdomen tightened and your toes curled as a heat exploded within you. Your fingers dug into his back as he fucked you through your orgasm. You gasped for air as he trusted once more inside you and stilled deep within. He grunted out as he came undone and his fingers dug into your thighs, leaving more marks on your skin. You both shuddered and heaved for air as he rested his forehead on your shoulder.

He carefully let you down to your feet and you immediately reached for the doorhandle to lean on. You felt your knees shake and you struggled to stand up. He admired the hopeless sight of you and helped you sit down on the small hallway bench.

Your eyes fluttered open and you saw him take the condom off. He tied a knot on it and put it in his trouser pocket. He tucked himself back in, zipped up and buckled his belt. As he turned to you with a cocky smirk, he dragged his fingers through his hair and readjusted his tie.

He took a step closer to you and caught your chin between his thumb and index finger. He leaned down and tenderly kissed you. You felt the high of your orgasm calm down and you could focus in on his face. He straightened up and picked up his suit jacket, swung it around and slid his arms in. “I’ll repay you for the dress.” He said apologetically and bent forward to caress your cheek. “I’m looking forward to see you on Monday.” He kissed your forehead before he walked over to the door. He placed his hand on the handle and looked over his shoulder. “Preferably without underwear.” He opened the door and stepped outside. He gave you a last look, savouring the beautiful sight and closed the door behind him.

You sat still on the bench, feeling your legs still trembling and your pussy sore. You still couldn’t believe you just got fucked by Dave York.

(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know and I will happily add you)

@cynic-spirit, @lililolli, @notabotiswear, @sara-alonso, @blankmooon, @ah-callie, @mamacitapascal

[readyplayerhobi]

Captain’s Log | 1

; Starfleet Captain!Jungkook x Ex-Borg!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, future smut

; Word Count: 6.6k

; Synopsis:  Freshly promoted Captain Jeon Jungkook is one of the youngest captain’s in Starfleet history. Sent on a mission to provide aid to a fellow starship, he grapples with multiple problems from a Q who seems to be trying to be human and calling himself Seokjin to having the only Romulan in Starfleet on board and the intricacies of dealing helping an ex-borg crew member readjust. Whether he’ll manage to succeed is another matter altogether, but he’ll try his hardest to prove the USS Yi Sun-Sin deserves a place amongst the most famous ships in Starfleet.

; A/N: So...I’ve just decided to split this. And by split it...I may or may not continue it. I’m not sure how this will be received or if people will even enjoy given it relies very heavily on the Star Trek world. If I can get my inspiration back then I will definitely write the second part which will probably be much longer!

-

Captain Jeon Jungkook stood in the small transport ship, staring out of the viewport with his breath caught in his throat. Before him, was the vast expanse of space. Thousands of tiny twinkling specks of light dotted the view, each one a star that was hundreds, thousands or even millions of light-years away.

There was every chance those stars could already be dead. The big ones would have swelled, more extensive and more substantial as they tried to survive by burning as many gasses as they could before finally going supernova and exploding. All that would remain is a neutron star, the compressed core of what had once been a magnificent sun or instead, a black hole that would eat at the very fabric of the universe.

Smaller stars would simply burn out, becoming white dwarves and cooling for millions of years as they became invisible. Forgotten. What Jungkook was looking at, was visual proof that those stars had existed.

But that wasn’t what interested him.

No, what interested him was the monumental structure that hung in the deadness of space, beyond the atmosphere of Earth. McKinley Station was massive on a scale he couldn’t comprehend. Giant in the kind of way that only space could provide. It was one of Starfleet’s pride and joy, a spacedock that birthed the spaceships that protected the hundreds of planets in the Federation.

Cradled gently in the spacedock’s arms, like a loving mother just waiting to let her child go, sat one of those spaceships. She was brand new, her paint glistening in the lights that shone around her. Like other ships of her class, Curiosity, she had the familiar saucer section that took up a large portion of her size while towards the back, her currently powered down warp nacelles flowed out in two straight lines.

A pale grey, the only notable thing on her was the lettering scrawled across the top of her saucer. It slowly came into view as the transport moved around, letting Jungkook get a good look.

The larger script read her registry number, NCC-75715. It was the clearest text, but he wasn’t interested in that. No, he was interested in what was written above that in a smaller font.

USS Yi Sun-Sin.

Her name. The name she would be known by across the stars. The reason he was interested in the magnificent ship, so new that she would probably have the delightful fresh smell when he got on board, was that she was his. 

Captain Jeon Jungkook, one of the youngest captains in Starfleet history, was the captain of the brand new USS Yi Sun-Sin. This was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her, but he could feel his heart swelling with pride already as he watched the ship get closer and closer. He would lead her crew through the galaxy, make the hard decisions, explore the unexplored and defend the defenceless. 

It was still hard for him to realise that he’d made it. His years at Starfleet Academy had gone perfectly. Almost too perfectly. The highest grades, the best physical performance and graduated top of his class. He’d only been beaten in the mathematics and physics sections by a Vulcan, which was unsurprising.

After that, he’d run through the ranks of Starfleet at an exponential rate. As a result, he was only 31 and already a captain. His parents were beyond happy and bursting with pride that their little boy had made it to the honoured ranks of Starfleet. Just an ordinary guy from a small city called Busan.

Yet here he was. About to embark upon the greatest adventure.

-

One Year Later

“Engineering, what’s the status on the warp drive?” Jungkook asked, his finger pressed onto the screen embedded into the arm of his comfortable captain’s chair. The bridge stretched before him, a small space before reaching the helm and beyond that was the enormous viewscreen that let him see what lay beyond the Yi Sun-Sin.

A scientific anomaly in the nebula they’d been studying for the last week had caused the warp drive to unexpectedly power down. They’d been operating on thrusters since, managing to push the ship just far enough that they’d left the nebula. Engineering had been working on the drive ever since, frantically running through diagnostics and repairing blown conduits.

A starship without a warp drive wasn’t of much use to anyone. Jungkook was desperate to get it working again so he could get both his ship and crew away from any potential danger.

The last thing he needed right now was for a Borg cube to randomly fly by.

That thought ran through his head and he cringed at the thought, pushing it away quickly. He hoped that didn't happen. With the current roster, Jungkook didn't need his crew needing yet another reason to hate the Borg.

Not that he'd begrudge anyone for their negative feelings regarding the Borg. They were terrifying and Jungkook prayed to whatever god would hear him that he would never have to come across them. 

Any alien species they found that they deemed to be a worthy addition to their gigantic Collective was swiftly captured and assimilated. Rarely did those people ever manage to return once taken.

But a few did.

When he’d been choosing the crew for his ship, Jungkook had had the pick of a wide range of capable candidates. He’d quickly earned himself the Captain of Lost Causes title amongst his peers when they saw who he’d chosen.

His crew was eclectic, to say the least.

And that included an ex-Borg. The only ex-Borg in Starfleet since the demise of Icheb, a capable officer who had unfortunately been killed to harvest his Borg parts. Jungkook, and everyone else in Starfleet, had found that a sad day. Even more so because it had been the infamous Seven of Nine who had delivered the parting blow, ending his suffering when she found him.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how painful that had been for her. A lot of people were under the assumption that those who had once been Borg still retained their lack of humanity. Or whatever you called that in other species. They were wrong. People had it, they just didn’t know how to access it anymore.

Which was why he’d picked you to be his astrometrics officer. You had retained your knowledge from when you’d been in the Borg Collective, one drone amongst millions, even billions. That meant you had a formidable knowledge of space and how to traverse it, a mathematical mind that could only be met by an android and an innate understanding of science.

Needless to say, you were a brilliant Starfleet officer. 

You didn’t quite make such a good human though. Along with struggling to find your place amongst free-minded individuals once more, your social skills found much to be desired as well. Everyone on board Yi Sun-Sin knew about you, and they all knew about the problems you had faced in Starfleet Academy when it came to others.

Jungkook had found you endlessly fascinating for the first few weeks. Your lack of awareness regarding certain social graces and your complete disregard for rules if you felt they were interfering with something worthwhile had both bemused and exasperated him.

When he’d been given this ship, the only thing he’d thought about had been how to ensure he was commanding a large number of Starfleet personnel efficiently and with care. He wanted to be the kind of captain whom people were confident about coming to with their problems while also inspiring strong loyalty to take them into dangerous situations.

He most certainly had not expected what had happened with you over the last year. Not that he particularly regretted any of it. Starfleet didn’t have any concrete regulations when it came to fraternizing. Jungkook knew because he’d frantically scanned them all when he’d realised how deep he was into his feelings. All he’d been able to do was maintain that his personal life remained personal and that when in command, he didn’t let anything interfere with his job.

Alongside you though, he’d also taken on Lieutenant Commander Jimin. The slight man was currently standing behind the communications console to the left of Jungkook at the back of the bridge. He was Jungkook’s second officer and a Romulan. The only Romulan in Starfleet. Just like you, it had made him a little bit of an outcast amongst his fellow officers and cadets at the Academy.

Romulans were not exactly renowned for being friends of Starfleet. But Jimin’s family had fled Romulus before he’d even been born, gaining asylum on Earth and becoming productive members of society. Jimin had never known what it was like to be amongst Romulans; he’d never even seen the homeworld of his species.

That didn’t stop people from distrusting him though. From viewing him through the lens of hostility and anger. Unsurprisingly, he’d somehow formed a friendship with you and it pleased Jungkook to see that you both at least had each other.

But that wasn’t what was important right now. The damn warp drive was.

“Engineering reporting,” The soft and feminine voice of his Chief Engineer, Siyeon, filtered through to the bridge. “We have almost managed to fix the drive, Captain. I estimate another hour and a second test run will be required before I can recommend restarting the warp drive safely.”

Her words were brisk and precise, the famous mark of the ever so logical Vulcans. Siyeon had been the Vulcan to beat him in the subjects he’d hadn’t come top in at the Academy, her analytical mind pursuing her to move through the engineering ranks. When he’d seen her name available for his crew he’d jumped to bring her aboard, promoting her to a senior rank.

She was exactly like she’d been at the Academy, almost unaged due to her extended Vulcan lifespan. Long black hair in an understated cut, eyebrows in a straight line that made it a little hard to understand what she was thinking sometimes and the familiar pointed ears of her race. Due to the same origins of their species, she looked remarkably similar to Jimin with his ruffled black hair, straight brows and pointed ears.

Jungkook was glad to have her on board though. He felt like she could see problems that he hadn’t even considered before and sometimes came up with solutions that seemed surprisingly creative for a Vulcan. Though her second was a human. Chaos incarnate.

“Great, let me know when it’s ready and we’ll give it a try.”

“Acknowledged.” 

He has to purse his lips to stop himself from laughing at her brusque dismissal. It was still jarring to be dealt with in so quick of a manner but Jungkook knew that Siyeon didn’t mean to be rude. She just had more important things to worry about. 

“Jimin,” Jungkook called out to the Romulan, looking back and taking in his immediately alert stance. “Are the sensors showing anything?”

His direct gaze leaves Jungkook’s to look down at his console once more, fingers flying as he taps in commands and looks over everything. The top part of Jimin’s uniform above his heart is solid gold in colour, signifying he’s part of the operations division. It makes his slim shoulders look slightly broader, but not by much.

“Nothing in front or to the side of us, sir. I can’t confirm behind us. We’re still too close to the nebula and our sensors can’t penetrate.” Jungkook always found it a little odd, even after six months, to be staring at someone who resembled a stoic Vulcan so strongly and yet was the complete opposite. Jimin spoke with urgency, a slight tinge of worry in his voice as he was unable to give Jungkook everything he wanted while his brows dipped towards each other as his face gave away even more.

Romulans had never embraced cold logic like their cousins. If anything, Jimin was prone to bouts of rage if he was pushed to his limit. Quick to take offence and even quicker to take action. An unfortunate Romulan trait.

“That’s fine Commander, don’t worry too much over it. We’re still moving away so keep checking. Sensors at max, I want to be aware of every tiny meteor flying even remotely near us in this sector. I do not want to be surprised.” A brusque nod accompanied Jimin’s acknowledgement and Jungkook turned his attention to the next thing on his list.

Looking over to the chair next to him, he raised a slight brow at the Bajoran male sitting there. For a few moments, Commander Yoongi Min didn’t seem to realise his captain wanted his attention. He was too busy scanning over a datapad that had been handed to him by an ensign.

“Min?” Jungkook prompted, causing Yoongi to look up abruptly. The familiar ridges on the upper bridge of his nose gave away his Bajoran heritage, alongside the traditional decorative earpiece that was connected with tiny chains to the shell of his ear, an important part of his culture.

Licking his lips, Yoongi coughed slightly before nodding as he collated the reports he’d been given while Jungkook’s had been busy. 

“Sickbay reports ten injured when the conduits blew on deck 11, section B and C. No other casualties. Engineering teams have already repaired those conduits. Holodeck 1 is out for the moment due to a power surge caused. No ETA for the moment.” He carried on, the reports less important now he’d gotten the big ones out of the way but Jungkook still listened intently as his mind raced.

Once finished, he nodded his thanks to Yoongi before contacting sickbay for an update from his Chief Medical Officer, Dr Dahyun Troi. 

“Dr Troi, how are the casualties? Are you okay down there? Do you need any extra help?” There was a brief pause but he didn’t push it. He may be the captain of this starship but the Chief Medical Officer was the only person who was allowed to give him orders if necessary. The last thing he wanted was to aggravate her.

“Captain, we’re looking good here. I’ve already treated and released four of the casualties. Another three are probably going to be able to go in half an hour once I’ve given them a final scan. The last three are going to be here a little longer, I’m afraid. Ensign Adewale has a crushed left leg that will require surgery to repair while Lieutenant Martinez has suffered head trauma. I can’t give a firm diagnosis on Lieutenant Kapoor, though I do have a feeling that we may have to divert to a Starbase for the medical facilities there to look after her. There may be amputation required.” Dahyun’s voice was calm and gentle despite what she was reporting.

It made her the perfect doctor in Jungkook’s opinion. Always reassuring and with a soft tone of tranquillity, she managed to keep her patients relaxed even under the most stressful and painful of times. 

Which made sense. She was half-human and half-Betazoid, a telepathic race which allowed them to be empathic. The ship’s counsellor, Commander Taehyung Grax, was a full Betazoid. His stronger abilities made him a better option for sensitively dealing with the crew's psychological issues.

“Okay, keep me updated on whatever you need. We’ll plot a course to the nearest Starbase just in case.” Jungkook responds, ending the communication. Taking in a deep breath, he just lets himself have a moment to compile his thoughts and just...breathe. He hasn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours.

Logically, he knows that he could just leave the bridge and get some rest. Yoongi would keep track of everything for him and call him back if anything critical needed his attention.

The soft noise of the elevator doors opening caught his attention, looking over to see you walking out with your usual, self-assured strides. Your face was carefully blank, the Borg implant along your jawline matched with another at your temple. They’d been too interwoven with important nerves to be removed.

“Captain, the astrometrics lab is functioning as expected-” Anything else you were about to say is cut off by the sudden movement of Lieutenant Commander Jung Hoseok. The Chief Security Officer, normally so jovial and bright, moved at what seemed like warp speed to the main area of the bridge, his phaser pointed in front of him while he called for more security.

“Who are you. Identify yourself.” He said sternly, his elegant face like a stone as he watches the newcomer with wary eyes. Every tiny movement is tracked and before Jungkook even realises what he’s doing, he’s standing as well. Brow creasing, he looks over the man who has appeared in a flash of white light.

“I know who he is,” Ensign Namjoon Dax, the chief helmsman said softly. “He’s a Q.”

“Oh no, please no.” Yoongi moaned softly from Jungkook’s side, a hand coming to rub at his face. There was no need for Jungkook to question why he was reacting like that because even he knew what that meant. It had, unsurprisingly, become required reading to go over the reports from Captain Picard, Captain Janeway and Captain Sisko regarding their encounters with the being simply known as ‘Q’.

It was both his name and the name of his race. Extra-dimensional beings with immense power over time, space and plenty of other things that Jungkook desperately didn’t want to get involved with. Like the laws of physics, for starters.

Q was not something that any Starfleet officer wanted to get involved with. Because for as monumentally powerful as they are, as knowledge as they were, they were like petulant children. Constantly bored and wanting to play with the ants. Of which Starfleet ships often ended up being their playthings.

“You’re right, I’m a Q. How did you know? It’s my dashing good looks, isn’t it? Nothing in your universe could possibly compare to this exquisite facade. Handcrafted by the...well I don’t know but that’s not important.” Q said, his full lips spreading into a beautiful smile.

He wasn’t wrong. The alien man stood before Jungkook was good looking, to the point it almost looked unnatural. Tall and with broad shoulders, he had jet black hair that was swept off his forehead in an elegant style while his large eyes practically sparkled with mischief.

It made Jungkook feel ill.

“I know...because I’ve dealt with a Q before. The Q.” Namjoon is still sitting at this console, the red of his uniform denoting his command division and Jungkook feels a small swell of pride at how calm he’s being. Although, there’s no reason to get hysterical. From what he’d read, there was absolutely nothing he could do to make Q disappear until he got bored and left.

“Really? I don’t remember you,” Q said, puckering his lips into a pout while one dark brow rose as he scanned over the helmsman. “Handsome, tall, those familiar markings on your face...you’re a Trill. Do you have one of those creepy worm things in your stomach too?”

Gesturing towards Namjoon, Q’s nose scrunches up in disgust. Trill’s were a humanoid race and some of them were ‘joined’ with a symbiont. A worm-like creature that could only live in the body of a Trill, which was passed from host to host. As a result, Namjoon had the memories and knowledge of all the former hosts of his symbiont.

Including meeting Q, apparently.

“I have a symbiont, yes. And you won’t remember me. I’ve only been joined for a year. You might remember one of my previous hosts though? Jadzia Dax? From Deep Space 9?” There’s a brief moment of quiet as Q thinks before his mouth drops open and he points at Namjoon.

“Yes! You were very beautiful. Though you wore blue then, not red? And you were a woman. Is it strange, going from gender to gender?”

“No. It’s natural. I’m the Chief Helmsman of the Yi Sun-Sin whereas Jadzia was a science officer. You don’t look like that Q though.” Clearing his throat, Jungkook tries to turn the conversation to himself. He was the captain of this ship, after all, it felt odd to be so clearly excluded from the conversation.

“Oh well, that wasn’t me. That was my brother, Q. He shared his memory of you, that’s why I know. I’m Q. But I’ve been quite bored lately so I thought I’d try out this whole...living like one of you things. So, you can call me Captain Seokjin! Reporting for duty!” He says this brightly, grinning as he salutes. There’s another flash of light and suddenly, the plain white robes he’d been wearing are turned into a Starfleet uniform.

A command uniform...with the relevant pips of a Starfleet Captain on his collar.

Letting out a groan, Jungkook tries to control himself as he realises that he wasn’t going to be getting out of this easily. A Q who wanted to be human, or at least act like a Starfleet officer? At least cadets at the Academy were going to remember his name after being forced to read this report as well.

“You can’t just...turn up here and demand to be part of our crew,” Jungkook states, as calmly as he can with high blood pressure rising this much. “Can’t you...go to one of the inhabited planets if you want to live like us? Find a city and-”

“Pssht!” He’s interrupted by Q, or rather Seokjin, lifting a hand and making a gesture as if he was trying to blow away a bad odour. Baffled at being interrupted so blasé, Jungkook just stares at him for a moment with wide eyes before looking over at Yoongi. His second-in-command just gave him an unsure shrug, uncertainty written all over his face.

“I said I want to live like one of you. That means on one of your fancy starships, getting into danger and fighting bad guys. I wanna pew pew everyone!” Finger guns at the ready, Seokjin pretends to fire at Hoseok. When his Chief Security Officer just scowls at the intruder, Seokjin just grins and laughs.

Pressing at his temple, Jungkook reminded himself that headaches didn’t exist anymore. They’d been cured long ago. He was just feeling a phantom headache, that was all.

“You can’t just...waltz onto a starship and give yourself a command. For starters, there’s only one captain and that’s me. Another point is that you are most definitely not qualified to be on this ship. You haven’t passed Starfleet Academy, therefore you can’t be given a rank of any kind. And even if I did give you a field rank, it would be Ensign. Because I don’t know what you can do. If I’d even want to let someone as...chaotic as you even touch anything.” Maybe he went a little too far with that. Some of his words felt a little bit harsh and Jungkook had to work hard not to give away that he was uncomfortably aware that he might have pissed the omnipotent being off.

But all Seokjin does is sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes and flapping his arms around in a remarkably childlike tantrum. 

Subtly raising one hand, Jungkook calls for the security team to stand down. They do so slowly, unhappiness at the order apparent but they can’t go against their captain’s order. Straightening, Hoseok keeps a firm hand on his phaser, the gold of his uniform clashing slightly with the red he’d decided to colour his hair with recently.

“Why not? I’m more powerful than you anyway. I could take you places you’ve never even heard of. How about the Kinmara system?” Clicking his fingers, there’s a flash of light and the view out of the large screen changes abruptly. Instead of the vast expanse of space, there’s a large planet creeping into view.

“What the...where are we?” Jungkook asks, looking over at Jimin with wide eyes. His operations officer is staring with equally wide eyes before scanning the information on his console, rapidly touching it as he changes what he sees. 

“I...I don’t know. The star charts don’t match up with any of the stars out there and we don’t have this planet in the system. From what I can see...it’s an M-Class with a breathable atmosphere. Gravity slightly stronger than Earth but within acceptable parameters. Multiple life signs across the planet.” He stutters slightly, eyes flickering from the view to Seokjin before moving back to Jungkook.

An M-Class meant it was habitable to life forms like humans or Vulcans. The fact that it wasn’t charted, or explored, meant that Seokjin had no doubt used his immeasurable powers to transport the Yi Sun-Sin who knows how many lightyears away from their previous location.

“Yes, it’s called Kinmara. The system is named after it. It has two moons, one of which is also inhabited and is called Breehana. Lovely place, the weather is beautiful and the ocean is just right. Only the ocean is pink, as you can see. I love pink, it’s so pretty to look at, don’t you think? Anyway, the Mara’s, the name of the race down there, don’t get many visitors so you might find it interesting to visit.” Looking back over at the Q, Jungkook realises suddenly that he’s also materialised himself into a fancy chair.

It takes a lot of effort to bite his tongue and not snap at the powerful being. Jungkook needs to get back to where they were, and Seokjin is the only one who can do that. Especially when they didn’t even have warp drive yet.

“I’m sure it’s a lovely place to visit, but right now I would appreciate it if you would just transport us back to where we were? You see, we need to make some final repairs to our warp drive so we’re not interested in exploring Kinmara right now. But if you let us know where it is on a star chart then I’m sure someone at Starfleet will eventually get round to exploring it closer.” Giving a genial smile, Jungkook gives himself a mental pat on the back. He didn’t even sound remotely annoyed then, perfect.

Only he forgot that he’s not dealing with some rational lifeform. He’d read enough about the previous encounters with Q, and read the regulations on how to handle an encounter with one, plenty of times to know that there was no such thing as rational to them. They did what they wanted, when they wanted and how they wanted.

Unfortunately, this Q had chosen the Yi Sun-Sin to be his plaything for today. Which meant that headache that shouldn’t exist was beginning to very much feel like it existed.

“Oh, are we not exploring today? How about some action instead? I know the perfect place.” Another snap of his fingers and everything goes white once more. What takes a mere second feels like minutes, with Jungkook dreading what they’ll be faced with. Because if there’s one thing he’s certain of right now, it’s that it would not be where they’d started.

He’s greeted with a vista of space when he finally opens his eyes, the twinkling lights of far-off stars as familiar to him as the back of his hand. A welcoming sight.

What is not welcoming, however, is the immediate alarm that begins to blare through the bridge. Automatically, the lights dim and a familiar, if unwanted, red light begins to flash throughout the bridge while screens begin to show what the ship deems to be important information. 

Red alert. The standard Starfleet setting for when enemy ships are detected or they go to battle stations. Automatically, the ship has put itself into red alert when something has triggered its sensors. Under normal circumstances, this would mean the Yi Sun-Sin would be primed and ready for battle with weapons ready.

With no warp drive though, it was just a foreboding sound that chilled Jungkook to his very bones. Because there was something out there. Something that his ship deemed a danger to itself and her crew. Something he couldn’t fight.

“Sensors?!” He barks, jerking into movement. Hoseok doesn’t even waste a breath, practically leaping behind the security console and tapping at the screen. There’s no need to ask what he’s doing, Jungkook already knows that he’s trying to see if there’s anything they could do to fight.

“One ship, sir. It’s spotted us, five-million kilometres out and closing. It’s…” Jimin trails off, his already pale face draining even more as his mind acknowledges what he’s reading. His reaction alone makes Jungkook feel sick. Romulans weren’t prone to fear when it came to fighting. They lived for this kind of stuff, beaten only perhaps by the Klingons.

“It’s a Borg sphere, Captain.” The soft words come from behind him and he spins around, eyes widening while the rest of his expression freezes in dual shock and dismay. Your face is carefully neutral, just like it always is and he watches as you work through the data on your astrometrics panel. The sensors for your area are far more sensitive than the general navigation, which makes it no surprise that you’d figured it out first.

“Borg?” He almost whispers. There’s no need to look at the rest of the crew. The subtle wave of fear at the incoming ship moves around the bridge like a harsh wind. But at the same time, he feels a thread of pride at the actions of his senior command. No one panics or starts shouting, instead there’s an odd silence that soon turns the fear into resolve.

There may not be a lot that they could do, but Jungkook would be damned if the Yi Sun-Sin didn’t go down fighting in some way. Even if he had to ram the sphere. Did it make him a bad captain if he’d much rather his crew die in a suicide mission than be assimilated into a lifeless collective?

Glancing back over at you, he sees what no one else does. The fear in your eyes. The pure terror at the knowledge that the Collective you had once been a part of was so close to taking you again. From many conversations with you over the months, both casual and a little more intimate just before sleeping, Jungkook knew that you would rather die than go back.

There was no individual in the Borg. No one person, no freedom of thought of free will. There was only the Collective. A central mind that connected to every single Borg throughout the galaxy, billions upon billions of minds all working as one with no thoughts of their own. You had immeasurable knowledge from all the information that the Borg had harvested from the races they had assimilated over time, but you were terrified of losing your individuality once more.

A Borg drone, which you had once been, was nothing. The Collective thought nothing of killing off drones they deemed defective or those that couldn’t be repaired. There was no compassion, no empathy. No love.

Yes. Jungkook would rather his crew die than put them through that. He didn’t think he’d have many complaints about it either.

Perhaps a little selfishly too, he couldn’t bear the thought of putting you through that once more. You’d finally learnt how to be an individual once more and were exploring your humanity. The thought of you lost forever once more was even more painful.

Looking over at Seokjin, Jungkook gritted his teeth and pointed at him with fury. If only the Q didn’t have the kind of power that Jungkook couldn’t even begin to imagine or understand. He would sincerely love to punch the smug, handsome asshole.

“Take. Us. Back. I told you, we have no warp drive! That means we have no weapons! You’re not going to get the battle you wanted. We can’t fight the Borg, not like this. Take us back! You can be on the ship, fine whatever! Just...don’t touch anything and let us just do our mission! Please.” He begged, about ready to get on his knees if necessary. 

Maybe it wasn’t very becoming for a Starfleet captain, but he didn’t care right now. He had no idea where they were in the galaxy and if the Borg got them, then Starfleet would never know either. The Yi Sun-Sin would go down as missing in action, just another mystery that would never be solved.

But Seokjin’s attention has moved onto you, a curious expression taking over. Tilting his head slightly, he walks over to you with long, elegant strides that make it seem like he’s been on this bridge many times. It annoys Jungkook and he has to ball his hands into fists to stop himself from lashing out at the Q.

You could take care of yourself, he knew that. Jungkook had far more important things to stress over than Seokjin taking a sudden interest with you. So it’s with great pains that he turns away and begins to bark orders at his bridge crew, demanding the status of weapons before patching through to engineering and getting an update from them.

“What are you?” Seokjin asks you, eyes of a deep chocolate brown scanning your frame up and down repeatedly. Unlike anyone else on the bridge, the colour of the top portion of your uniform is blue. A signifier of the science division, it was rare for you to be on the bridge; Jungkook wished that you weren’t here right now given the way Seokjin was looking at you speculatively. 

He shouldn’t have been concerned though because you handled the omnipotent being with the same, cool regard that you did everything else. It had been a little frustrating when he’d first taken command, even more so when he’d realised that he had a potential romantic interest but he loved it right now.

Because you just stared at Seokjin, your gaze not giving away a single hint of emotion or expression. A slight tilt of your head gives away that you’re considering him and Jungkook probably shouldn’t get as much satisfaction as he does by the way Seokjin shuffles, almost as if he’s awkward.

“You are a Q. The Borg have never met your species before. I have no frame of reference for how to engage with you except for the reports from Starfleet.” As usual, your words are straightforward and precise. No one ever has to worry about whether you hold hidden intentions, it’s simply not in your nature anymore to engage in subterfuge.

“The Borg,” Seokjin sounds surprised and he scans over you a few more times, brow rising. “You can’t be an actual Borg, they wouldn’t let you stay here. Not to mention you don’t have all that ugly machine stuff on you. Humanoid and in a Starfleet uniform. You were a Borg, but now you’re not with the Collective anymore. How fascinating.”

“Very. Captain, if you will excuse me then I have duties to attend to.” You’re looking at Jungkook now, lips pursed expectantly. Pausing in his questions to everyone else, Jungkook nods and permits you to leave the bridge. It’s not unnoticed by him the way Seokjin watches you in fascination as you leave. His stomach turns at the sight and worry fills him.

Not that there’s any point. You can take care of yourself and more importantly, none of them could stop whatever Seokjin wanted to do.

“How very interesting.” Jungkook can’t help but glare at the Q as he watches you leave, twisting his lips in a bizarrely human gesture. Finally, he reaches his boiling point and points in frustration out of the viewscreen.

“Borg. Danger. Leave. Now.” Part of him knows that he shouldn’t be as blunt and rude, not when the situation was this dangerous. But he didn’t care, he just wanted his crew and ship away from danger. Something that Jungkook couldn’t do himself. He’d begged, he’d argued and now he was being firm.

If Seokjin wanted to pretend to be part of his crew then he would have to learn to take orders from him. It was the only way this whole stupid thing was going to work without causing Jungkook some serious stress. The very fact that he was even considering this said volumes about the fear and pressure Jungkook was under right now.

Exhaling slowly, he pleaded with himself internally to keep himself calm. From what he’d read about the Q, and that was the race as a whole, it wouldn’t do to antagonise him. It’d do no one any good if he decided to just disappear, leaving the Yi Sun-Sin to its fate.

“Fine, fine. Urgh, you lower lifeforms have no sense of adventure. You’re all so boring.” A click of his fingers sends everything white once more. Once his vision clears, Jungkook immediately starts barking orders to his crew. He didn’t need to though, they were automatically moving like a well-oiled machine.

“We’re back where we started, captain,” Jimin confirms with a nod of his head, his gaze still focused on the readout from his console. He doesn’t say anything more, his fingers too busy darting across the screen as he takes in what he’s seeing.

“Well, this was a waste of my time. I’ll be back when the fun starts.” With that, Seokjin vanishes. The bridge is eerily silent for a few minutes after he’s gone, everyone looking at each other in confusion as the red alert status disappears now they’re safe again.

“Is he gone?” Yoongi asks, looking over at Hoseok. The security chief glances down to his console, lips pursing as he scans through the information before nodding his head slowly.

“No...Q life-signs detected on board. Or rather, only what we expect should be onboard. Looks like he’s really gone.” Something inside Jungkook relaxes and he suddenly feels so, unbelievably, tired. Groaning quietly, he flops back into the captain’s seat and rubs at his forehead. He should visit the medical bay, it’s not natural to have a headache.

“Okay. Okay, well. He’s going to come back, we know that. Just be prepared, warn everyone on board and I want to be informed the moment he turns out. Hoseok, you better make sure your security team is ready for anything he decides to do. I know you probably can’t do anything but it’ll sure as hell make me feel better. Yoongi, get onto engineering and see if they can speed this whole thing up. I want to be gone as soon as possible, is that understood?” Yoongi nods, automatically turning to the interface in his chair.

“Yes sir, I’ll collate reports from all departments and send them to your ready room.” Nodding to his second-in-command, Jungkook stands and stretches with a groan. He’d spent long enough on the bridge and he just wanted some time to relax. But he couldn’t do that, not yet.

“Great. I’m going to head to sickbay, check-in with Dr Troi as my head is killing after that incident. Then I’m gonna try and get some rest. You’ve got the bridge Yoongi, once the engines are fixed and working then get us going again. Warp 8, back on our path. And...send a report to Starfleet about what’s happened. Try and get some advice on what to do with all this. Everyone good with their orders?” Looking around, everyone on the bridge nodded in acknowledgement to him and a weight lifted off his shoulders.

He had a good bridge crew, and he knew that he could rely on them while he was gone. Heading over to the turbolift, entering the circular car and asking for the desk that medical bay was one. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed as it began to move.

“Fuck.”

[dykeninthdoctor]

“ironhusbands, pre relationship, focusing on them in their first year of college and being like rhodey really realizing how young tony is” and “sweater sharing”

“Have you heard–“

“Did you see–“

“He went to Rob’s party–“

The whispers are carried to him on the wind, full of rumors, sometimes lies, sometimes truths.

Jim doesn’t care. He knows Tony Stark–the heir to the Stark empire, son of the legend, Howard Stark–is on campus, but he doesn’t care.

There’s no reason for him to.

The kid is 16, apparently, a prodigy for his age, which Jim could’ve guessed, and he gives zero shits about his education.

Jim hasn’t heard anything about the kid going to classes; only about parties, and girls, and sometimes, the whispers mention boys, too. They call Stark a charmer, a slut, a flirt, and worse.

Maybe Jim cares a little bit.

Stark is 16, and he already has a reputation, one that scares Jim.

“Oh my God, did you see how much he drank last night?” a girl says, eyes wide in a mockery of surprise.

“He never seems like he’s drunk, though,” her friend says.

Jim frowns.

“Maybe it runs in the family,” the first girl teases, and then they’re both laughing, walking in the other direction.

Jim frowns harder.

-

He goes to a party the next chance he gets.

Stark is there, in the center of it all, holding court like a prince standing on the backs of his adoring subjects. He’s sprawled across a sofa, legs draped across the lap of a girl whose hand is resting on the inside of his thigh, head in the lap of another girl whose lips are staining marks of red across his jaw.

Stark’s eyes are glazed, the smile he wears is taped on, and Jim realizes with a sinking feeling that it’s all a mask. A mask hastily built, a mask with cracks that Stark uses alcohol to fill, so that no one can see the emotions behind it.

Jim doesn’t know how, or why, but he can.

“A toast,” Stark slurs, raising the plastic cup in his hand, “To dear ol’ dad, who sent me to this lovely institution.”

A cheer goes up around the room.

Stark drinks.

Jim’s moving before he realizes, shoving his way past people, fighting to get to Stark, snapping sharply, “C’mon, Tony, let’s go.”

To his surprise, and fear, Stark gets up and takes his hand without second thought. Jim tries not to think about why.

When he takes Stark outside, the kid–because God, he’s just a kid–looks up at him with a raised brow and a smirk made of plaster. “We’re gonna do it outside? You’re into exhibitionist shit, huh?”

And then he’s on his knees in front of Jim, and Jim’s trying not to throw up.

“No–shit, no, please stand up, Stark–“

“What?”

It’s the confusion in his voice that finally does it, and Jim’s retching into the bushes that line the house behind them, coughing up bile.

He hears the clumsy motions of Stark getting to his feet, feels a small but calloused hand on his back, sees Stark’s face–eyes wide, lips parted in a small o, the face of a kid–and then throws up more bile onto the leaves.

“I’m sorry?” Stark offers quietly, and it’s so different from the brassy, loud, slurred voice of the prince Jim saw only minutes ago.

“How old are you?” Jim asks. It’s not what he meant to say, but as Stark’s eyes go a little wider, he knows he needs to know the answer, because it’s not 16.

“I’m almost 15.”

Jim tries not to throw up again.

-

He takes Stark back to his dorm, with its single bed and tiny cork board with pictures of Momma Robbie and Jeanie tacked up, with the single poster of a galaxy taped to his wall and the precarious stack of textbooks on his desk.

Stark drowns in his clothes, the knitted sweatshirt hanging off his shoulder, revealing a collarbone littered with hickeys, the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, showing bruises the shape of fingers pressed into tan skin.

“Why?”

The question rings out in the silent room.

“Why what?”

“Why are you being…like this?”

“Because you need this,” Jim says.

Stark just looks at him, his chest rising and falling with exaggerated slow breaths, his eyes blinking slowly, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

“C’mon, get in bed.”

When Stark doesn’t move, Jim freezes.

“No, Stark–not like that. I’m not gonna do anything with you–to you. We’re not doing anything. You deserve a safe place to sleep. I’m gonna do homework, okay?”

“Okay,” Stark says quietly.

When he falls asleep, curled around the only pillow in Jim’s bed, he looks even younger.

Jim makes himself a promise.

A promise to protect Stark.

-

The next day, when he wakes up with his face pressed to the pages of his physics textbook, and his bed rumpled but empty, he realizes protection is not what Stark wants.

Too bad, Jim thinks. Too fucking bad.

-

It’s harder than he thinks to find Stark; even if the kid doesn’t attend classes, there aren’t parties during the day.

The whispers don’t tell him anything, and today, they’re about him.

“He went home with him, just like that–“

“Have you see him around before?”

“Stark just listened to him–“

Jim ignores them.

He goes to his classes, he takes notes, he tries to focus.

He also thinks about where Stark might be hiding.

-

He doesn’t have to think too hard; Stark’s sitting in his dorm when he gets back after his 5:00 lecture.

The door was locked, but Stark didn’t seem to have any difficulty with that.

“Hi,” Stark says.

“What the fuck,” Jim says back.

Stark shrugs. “You were nice to me. What do you want for it? Money? A reputation boost? We can pretend to fuck, if you don’t want to for real, just so that people think you got some.”

“What do I want for it?” Jim repeats.

“Yeah, payment.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“C’mon, everyone wants something,” Stark says, and the way his eyes avoid Jim’s, despite his casual pose and even more casual tone, tells Jim that he’s scared.

“I don’t want anything, Stark.”

It’s a lie; he wants to know who hurt Stark, he wants to give Stark a hug, he wants to protect Stark.

He also wants Stark to let him out of choice, rather than obligation.

“Okay,” Stark says.

Okay, Jim thinks.

What he says is, “You can stay while I do my homework, if you want.”

“I talk a lot,” Stark tells him. “I’ll bother you.”

“I have a little sister, you can’t be worse than her.”

“Oh.”

So Stark stays.

-

“What’s your name?”

“Jim.”

“Oh, that won’t do at all. What’s the rest of it?”

“James Rupert Rhodes?”

“Rupert?”

“Don’t start with me, Stark–“

“Tony. My name’s Tony.”

“And my name’s Jim.”

“Not anymore, it’s not. You’re Rhodey now.”

-

“What are you doing?”

“Physics.”

“No shit, Sherlock, I meant the equation. You calculated wrong.”

“I did not.”

“Put it in the calculator, it’s not 6.78, it’s 6.57.”

“You did that in your head?”

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

-

“How old’s your sister?”

“She’s 10, but she’s 7 in that picture.”

“That’s your mom?”

“Yeah, I took that picture of them at the lake near our house.”

“She…she looks nice.”

“She’d like you.”

-

“What’s your major?”

“Aerospace Engineering, so yeah, I’m a rocket scientist.”

“Damn, how’d you know what I was gonna say?”

“You’re predictable, Tones.”

“Tones?”

“Well, if you’re allowed to give me a nickname, shouldn’t the favor be returned?”

“I…yeah.”

-

So Jim becomes Rhodey, and Stark becomes Tony, and sometimes Tones.

-

Rhodey realizes a few months in that Tony doesn’t need protection.

Tony knows how to protect himself, with a sharp quip or an even sharper smile.

What Tony needs is love.

So Rhodey makes a new promise.

-

After Rhodey has to drag Tony out of another party, after slurred words become quiet apologies, after Tony falls asleep in his bed again, Rhodey calls his momma.

She tells him to bring Tony home for Christmas break.

-

In Rhodey’s eyes, Tony’s never looked more alive than when Momma Robbie convinced him to play Scrabble with her and Jeanie.

-

“That boy needs love, James,” Momma Robbie tells him, a mug of tea cradled in her hands.

“I know, momma.”

“You gonna make sure he gets it?”

“Pretty sure I already am.”

-

When the clock strikes twelve on New Years, Tony tries to kiss him.

They’re on the roof, the stars above them reflecting in Tony’s eyes, and Tony tries to kiss him.

“No, Tones,” Rhodey says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love you.”

“Just not like that?”

Tony’s voice is broken glass, slowly tearing Rhodey’s heart to pieces.

The lie is a knife to the chest.

“Just not like that.”

Tony nods quietly.

They don’t share a bed that night.

-

When they get back from break, after a silent car ride, Tony asks suddenly, “Wanna see my workshop?”

It would’ve been simpler to ask if Rhodey wanted to see his heart.

There’s no other to answer to give than yes.

-

It’s a beautiful mess of chaos, the only description befitting the place where Tony breathes life into wires and gears and lines of numbers.

Rhodey doesn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you, Tones.”

Tony hugs him for an hour, and then spends three more showing him each idea, and then uses another two to get lost in a new project.

Rhodey realizes that this is where Tony truly comes alive.

He’s a kid in a candy store, a bird taking flight, a genius at work.

And he’s beautiful.

The knife, the lie, digs harder into Rhodey’s chest.

-

Tony has bad weeks, and worse weeks, where Rhodey doesn’t see him for days, but it’s okay.

It’s okay, because Tony always comes back.

-

Rhodey learns about Howard during a bad week, and about Jarvis on a good one.

He learns about Maria on a good week, and about Ana on a bad one.

Tony brings him pieces, and Rhodey starts to build the puzzle.

Some pieces are missing, and will probably always be missing, but it’s okay.

Rhodey will love him no matter what.

And slowly, Tony is starting to believe that. Rhodey can see it in his eyes, in the way his mask comes off, in the way the cracks become windows for Rhodey to look through.

-

The summer is long. Tony calls him some weeks, emails other weeks, doesn’t talk at all for most of them.

The worst part is not knowing if he’s okay.

But Rhodey takes what he can get, and gives as much as Tony will take.

-

When they get back to school, there are fresh bruises on Tony’s arms. Rhodey gives him a new sweater from Momma Robbie and Tony wears it like its armor.

They get a dorm together, officially, and most nights, Tony ends up in Rhodey’s bed, in Rhodey’s arms.

Watching him wake up is the best part of Rhodey’s day.

It’s hard, to keep lying, but Tony’s still just a kid, and Rhodey won’t be another person to use him.

So he loves him in the ways he can, and it’s enough, because it has to be.

-

The whispers are constant, always talking about them, but this time, Rhodey truly doesn’t care.

He knows better than the lies they spread.

-

“Rhodey–Rhodey, wake up,” Tony whispers against his chest.

Rhodey grunts. “‘m sleeping.”

“It’s raining.”

“So?”

“I wanna go outside.”

It’s the look in his eyes that does it, the wonder. Rhodey’s on his feet before he even realizes it. “Okay, Tones.”

They dance in the rain on the roof, and Tony laughs, and Rhodey looks at him, and sees nothing but happiness, and feels nothing but love.

-

Rhodey kisses Tony on his 18th birthday.

Maybe it’s wrong, but the way Tony laughs against his lips and twines his arms around his neck is nothing but right.

“I thought–“

“I lied, genius, I had to,” Rhodey whispers, ready to let go, but Tony just holds him tighter.

“Thank you.”

“For lying?”

“For loving me the way I needed.”

[hoenursey]

here it is, y’all, the nurseydex theatre kid au i never finished (and probably won’t ever). if any of y’all remember, this was going to be the othello au lol !! whoops.

_X_

God hated him, obviously. That much was apparent. God hated him or did not exist, because no loving god would do this to him. No loving god would have him, fingers wrapped delicately and squeezing ever so slightly at one (1) William J. Poindexter’s slim neck, and no loving god would force him to have his blocking so that he needed a knee wedged between Will’s thighs and his other hand pinning his wrist to the bed, and there was absolutely, positively no loving god that would have Will gazing up at him, pupils blown wide as a half erection tented the silk nightgown he was in, in the middle of Samwell College’s black box theatre.

There was just no way in hell, Derek reasoned, as Will swallowed and he felt the bob of his throat run down, down, down the center of his palm. A loving god would open up the floor and fucking eat him, just let him die right then and there.

“Will, you should be thrashing!” Monetta yelled, and Derek flinched, then forced himself to relax and slowly pulled back.

It happened like this.

“We have no backup for Desdemona,” Monetta spat. “Who fucking– who changes their major now? Who drops a class in the middle of the fucking semester? Can you even do that?” She whirled around, eyes wild, and Derek backed up slightly. Monet could be kind of… wild, sometimes, when she got going.

“Uh–”

“It’s rhetorical!”

Everyone in the theatre flinched.

“I need a backup. I need one now. I don’t care if it’s a fucking dog. If the dog can act, I don’t give a shit. I just need a fucking actor. Find someone who’s got chemistry with Derek and I will fucking kiss you.”

“I’d prefer it not be a dog,” he said hesitantly, and Monetta turned her head in his direction. Only her head, and a single, mad-looking eye focused on him.

“But you know what? I, uh. Can work with that. A dog, I mean. Anything. The show must go on.”

Monetta’s head turned back, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“Hey, what about Will?”

Nevermind, he thought to himself bitterly. He turned a flat look on Chris, who was smiling cheerfully, as usual, a wrench in his hand.

“Who?” Monetta asked. Her brow was creased, the script she’d been waving still dangling from her long fingers.

“He–” Derek tried to say, but then Monetta threw the script at him as Chris said, “He’s the one who’s been helping Larissa with sets! Me, Will, and Derek had our freshman humanities course together!”

“What does he look like?”

“Red hair, freckle-y,” Mandy called from the rafters.

“Mega freckle-y,” Jenny confirmed. “And he’s, like, p good at acting. He’s got a great voice, loud and, like, strong and stuff? Super pale, kind of angry just like as a person. He’s a little awkward but like once you get him comfortable it’s fine. We had 1302 together; actually, it was Othello, so he already knows the lines! He’s super rad!”

Monetta turned to him, and he gave her an uncomfortable look. “Please tell me you can work with him. Derek. Please. We really, really, really don’t have time to do another open casting call, and frankly all the non-actors in here suck. Please. We have three. months. Tell me you don’t have any problems with him.”

“He’s an asshole,” Derek grumbled. “A rude asshole who thinks i'm irresponsible and laughs at me when I fall–”

“But can you work with him on stage?”

Derek sighed softly as Monetta turned the closest thing she had to puppy dog eyes on him.

“You’re helping with my calc work,” he said tiredly, and she beamed at him. “Call him up, Chris. See if we can get him here by tomorrow.”

It happened like this: Monetta took one look at William Poindexter and fell in love with him. He monologued for her and she looked ready to propose. They found a costume (after damn near an hour of sizing and shaping and pinning and honestly, his ass was just unfair) and she had their children’s names picked out.

“Thank you so much for this. I’m so sorry we had to call you in so late, and this is so–”

“It’s, um, not a problem?” he said, almost a question, smile curving his pink lips, because of course he had an uncomfortably endearing smile.

“Monetta, one problem,” Caitlin Farmer said muffledly. They looked down at her where she was hemming the bottoms of Will’s pants, a few pins tucked between her lips.

“Yes, Caitlin?” Monetta asked, voice tense. Caitlin pulled the pins from her mouth and handed them to Derek, saying lightly, “Hold these, please?”

“Uh, we don’t have any period clothes for this. The sleep scene, where Othello kills Desdemona? We only have women’s robes and gowns, and I know costuming gets cumulative grades on like accuracy. It won’t be so bad if the rest of the costuming is good, but we’re hella underprepared and I know they don’t want to make an entire new outfit this late in the show.”

“What do you have?” Will asked. Monetta, Caitlin, and Derek all looked at him, surprised– he hadn’t really said much outside of a few words confirming or agreeing with whatever they said.

“Just… silk nightgowns. That’s it. The little strappy shift ones? You probably don’t want to wear those, i’m sorry–”

“It’s-- uh, don't worry about it,” he interrupted gently. “A few weeks in a shift dress isn’t going to kill me. Besides, i’m already gay and, uh, sort of out, so like, what's the worst they can say to me?” Derek’s brain went blank. Will was gay? Will was gay? Was he single? Why did he care?

“Derek!”

“Sorry, what?” he asked, blinking at Monetta.

“I said, go get ready for practice. We’ve gotta get your blocking down.”

“O-okay,” he managed.

“And I want you and Will to practice outside of this period! Go hang out, get dinner in the dining hall together! You’re supposed to be married, okay?”

Shit. Fucking shit fuck shit– “Okay, Monetta. Dinner, dining hall, practice. I’ve got it. I can hear perfectly clearly.”

“But does your brain work? I doubt you sometimes.”

It happened like this: they started having dinner together, and then lunch together, and then breakfast, and then Derek was sitting with the engineering majors and Will was sitting with the poetry kids and they were both sitting with the theatre kids. It happened like this: they bickered, and Derek flirted, and Will snarked, and they practiced until they were dead on their feet.

It happened like this: they hadn’t practiced kissing by themselves, just line work, because they didn’t really have the space to do blocking anyways. Or that was what he told himself, anyways, because he kept thinking about how much he wanted to, and he poured over the kissing scenes in private: how he’d kiss him, how delicately or firmly it would be done, and how most of all there wouldn’t be much more effort to pretend that he was madly in love with him, because of course he had to fall in love with anyone who smiled at him.

It happened like this: Monetta needed them to practice the kissing scenes in rehearsal.

“You’re both single, right?” she asked idly as she checked over the set backgrounds, Derek scanning over his blocking notecards from on top of one of their desks.

“Huh?”

“You and Will. Single?”

“Well... I am,” Derek said slowly. “But I wouldn't know about Poindexter. He's never mentioned a partner though, and it doesn't seem like his style to not, like, say anything. Want me to ask?”

“Sorry, I had to drop off some supplies to the culinary lab,” Will called, the door slamming behind him, and they turned to look at him.

“Will,” Monetta hedged, “You’re single, right?”

He paused, looking at her curiously, then nodded a little jerkily, shrugging off his bag and jacket. Nursey tried not to stare at the way his shoulders filled out the tight red “Samwell Computing” shirt (gay, gay, gay, his brain was chanting, gay, gay, stop thinking about how broad his shoulders are, gay). “Far as I know.”

“Great,” Monetta said, relieved. “Sorry, just… last time, we accidentally caused a few breakups? And chairs got thrown. I really don't wanna see that happen again.”

Will chuckled softly, flexing his wrists a little and then pushing up onto the stage with his hands, rolling into a standing position neatly. Derek was dying. “Well, no angry, uh, boyfriends here. Or girlfriends.”

“Fantastic,” she murmured. “I’d hate for you to have a chair thrown at your head, we really don’t have the time to find another Desdemona.”

“You know you’re supposed to care about other people’s well-being, right?” Jenny called down from above the stage, where she was fixing up some of the lighting that had fallen earlier. Mandy nodded in agreement.

Monetta took a moment to consider it, face thoughtful, and then shrugged, pivoting on her foot and walking away from Will and Derek.

“No time for that either! Everyone get dressed, we’ve got a lot of work to do today and some people still aren’t off book.”

“It’s literally just act two,” Connor said irritably from the fourth row, though he still stood to move backstage. “That’s it. Excuse me for not memorizing every single one of Iago’s stupid little asides--”

March smacked him on the back of the head and he yelped, indignant. “What was that for?”

“You don’t have to get insulted four times a week for a month, Wisnewski,” she grumbled, “So can it.”

[atsumumiyasimpgirltm]

Driver’s License- (Atsumu Miya x F!Reader)

Pairings: Atsumu Miya x F!reader

Warnings: mentions of smoking, language

Genre: Angst

Type: Songfic

Word Count: 2972

A/N:  I totally didn’t write this for myself no way self indulgence wHO’s thAT??? Maybe I’ll write a part 2

Song: Driver’s License- Olivia Rodrigo

-----------------------------------------------------

I got my driver's license last week

You had turned 16 a week before, and had gotten your driver’s license the day after. At the DMV, you took your photo, smiling through your pain like you always did, because you were a good girl, weren’t you? You didn’t get mad, or cry over stupid things, no, not you. 

Just like we always talked about

You remembered the late night sleepovers when you were kids, talking about what high school would be like, and making up funny scenarios based on the movies you saw on the television. It was during one of those late nights when Atsumu had asked, “do you love me?” and patiently waited for an answer.

'Cause you were so excited for me

He was older than you, and he always boasted about being able to drive before you. You always rolled your eyes and laughed, texting him to ask for a ride somewhere or to just pick you up so you could sit in the car and talk.

To finally drive up to your house

Atsumu swore to you that the day you got your driver’s license, you’d go somewhere together. Maybe find an empty highway and cruise for a while, going nowhere just to ease the stress off. Maybe it’d be a mini one day road trip, and you could hit all the spots that you had been to as kids. You could be kids again, just for a little bit.

But today I drove through the suburbs

He swore, he crossed his heart, he promised, but when you texted him to inform him of the news, he texted back with a simple “I’m busy,” breaking the illusion that you held on your friendship with him.

Crying 'cause you weren't around

Devastated, you got into your car and fulfilled the promise yourself, aimlessly driving through your neighborhood, no destination in mind. It was no empty highway, but it numbed the shock that you felt.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Later, he texted saying he was with someone, and you immediately knew, it was that girl. The one who was so pretty, the one who everyone adored or admired, the one who no one could say a single negative thing about, because anything negative was automatically spun into a compliment. Atsumu had talked about her once or twice, saying that they did things together on the weekends.

Who always made me doubt

You used to be acquainted  with her, and she repeatedly insisted that ‘You and Atsumu would look so cute together.’ For a girl a year older than you to say that? It gave you reason, reason to think that maybe he’d want you. There was always something off about her, she was too sweet to be real, too perfect. Who would have guessed that she was a backstabbing bitch? But you couldn’t even say that out loud could you? Because if you did, everyone would tell you ‘she knows what she wants’ or ‘she’s ambitious and is willing to take necessary steps to get to her goals.’ 

She's so much older than me

In the year above you, she was a second year when you and Atsumu were in your first. It was a wonder how he ever met her in the first place, he never accelerated any classes. Maybe it was fate bringing them together, as many would say. Or maybe, it wasn’t fate for them to be together, but fate punishing you for being too passive, too much of a watcher.

She's everything I'm insecure about

She was tall, she had long unmarked legs and clear skin. A small waist and big eyes ringed a shifting color with brown in the center. Every time you saw her, you wanted to put her disgustingly pretty face into the floor for being everything you were not, for giving you just an ounce of hope and then taking it away. 

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

You needed to clear your head again. Still sitting on the hope that maybe, just maybe, Atsumu would realize she wasn’t for him, 

You started the car, senses perking up. The engine was loud, and drowned out your thoughts, the inside of the car smelled like mints, and the leather of the steering wheel cover was rough under your hands. 

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

Driving in the direction of Atsumu’s home, you slowed when you saw his porch light on, grateful that the tint on your windows concealed you from any onlookers. 

And I know we weren't perfect

When you slowed at the curb opposite to his house, you saw Atsumu and the girl, sitting on plastic chairs, laughing about something, and smoking menthols. The girl pulled the rolled piece of paper from her mouth with French manicured nails, and placed her hand on his arm. He beamed, at the physical contact. Whether it was from the buzz the nicotine gave him or her you would never know. A sour taste, not too far from the taste of smoke, filled your mouth. Since when did he do illegal things?

But I've never felt this way for no one

The girl’s head raised, and she whispered something to Atsumu. He looked across the street at your car, making accidental eye contact- not that he knew-  through the driver’s side window. For a second, you watched him through the glass, contemplating whether or not to get out to confront him.

And I just can't imagine

Atsumu cocked his head to the side, most likely in recognition of your car, but if he wanted to communicate, he didn’t do so, instead turning back to the girl and reassuring her that “It’s nothing.” Ignoring the warnings from your parents telling you not to drive in platform shoes, you turned the car from your parallel parked position on the curb, and floored the gas pedal as hard as you could, escaping off of Atsumu’s street before the tears came. 

How you could be so okay now that I'm gone

The next day at school, you walked up to the roof, expecting Atsumu to be waiting with Osamu and Aran like he usually was. That was your routine, the routine you had formed back in elementary school, and had followed every single day since then. Every single day but today and the days to follow, because when you ascended the stairs to the roof, you spotted Atsumu and the girl, deep in conversation about something, Osamu and Aran nowhere in sight.  You felt yourself being torn apart as you watched their interactions, so effortless and easy despite having only met a couple weeks prior to this event. A feat that took you months of talking with Atsumu to get. Rage filled every crevice in your body, and it pulsed through your arteries. It was being pumped by your heart, and soon, you were so filled with it that with all the strength you had, threw your bento box straight between them.

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

They looked up at you, conversation having been stopped by your projectile bento box, and after registering the disturbance, both glared at you. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fucking fair. For this girl to come and take everything from you, your best friend, your closest friend, it wasn’t fair for her to come and break all the promises that you and Atsumu had made.

'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

“So much for ‘friends forever!’” You angrily folded your arms, taking a final look at them before turning yourself around and untucking your shirt to wipe away tears. 

“What’s her problem?” You heard in a condescending high pitched voice. 

A scoff and then, in a much deeper voice:  “She’s just pissed about a promise we made when we were kids.”

You ran as far as you possibly could from them, and tried to find your other friends, your real  friends. 

And all my friends are tired

Entering the cafeteria, you found Osamu and Aran at a table in the cafeteria, most likely having been exiled by Atsumu to accommodate for his new friend. Seeing that you had no lunch, Osamu pushed an onigiri towards you, and Aran offered you half of an apple. They both looked at you with pity.

Of hearing how much I miss you

You spent that entire lunch talking about how much Atsumu’s new ‘just friend’ pissed you off. You talked about how much she angered you, how she was too perfect, how she was a bad influence on him, and how with her, you were always going to be the villain, the person who was keeping them apart, and the second place.

But I kinda feel sorry for them

Aran and Osamu, being the good listeners they were, ate up your words, and didn’t disregard a thing you had said. They didn’t tell you that she was ‘ambitious’ or ‘doing what she knew she had to do,’ they didn’t tell you to stop being oversensitive or that people come and go, They just sat and listened to you, and when it was over, patted your back and fed you lies about how “Everything is going to be okay.”

'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do, yeah

But nothing would be okay, not as long as Atsumu and the pretty blonde girl were together, Neither Aran nor Osamu knew the Atsumu you knew, the one who would call at midnight asking if you wanted to go to Walmart, the one who would drop everything he was doing to hang out with you. The Atsumu that was gone now all because of one person.

Today I drove through the suburbs

After school that same day, you waited until the sun was on the horizon, painting the sky around you pretty pinks and oranges, a contrast to the way you were feeling. You sat on your curb until you felt the time was right, then, you got into your car and drove to one of the only places you had ever felt safe.

And pictured I was driving home to you

And maybe it wasn’t the place, but the person who made it a safe space, because when you pulled into the street, seeing the familiar glow of porch lights, the sound of loud laughter, and the minty smell of menthol- different from the smell in your car, you were brought back to that night, and immediately wanted to turn back and drive anywhere but here.

And I know we weren't perfect

Ignoring the bad feeling that surrounded your mind, you slowly drove through the street, pulling into your spot on the opposite sidewalk curb.

But I've never felt this way for no one

Just in time to observe the silence that fell between the pair. This was it! This was when Atsumu realized that she wasn’t the one! Everything would be fixed now, and you could all go back to the way it was the before, the normal way, the better way.

And I just can't imagine

You leaned your arm against the window, and stoically watched the girl lean back into her chair. Atsumu did the opposite, and leaned forward. 

How you could be so okay now that I'm gone

He kissed the girl, and suddenly, you couldn’t hear anything. Not the soft music playing in your car, nor the buzzing of the street light. The only thing you heard was ringing, an alarm telling you your time was up. Vision filling with tears, the same taste from the last incident filled your mouth.

I guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

Just like last time, you pulled off the curb, but Atsumu and the girl were too entranced with each other to notice. The joints on your knuckles turned white from your too tight grip on the wheel, and your eyes stung. You drove as fast as you could to nowhere.

'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

Every morning while driving to school, you had to drive past his house. Involuntarily, your grip around the steering wheel always tightened when you passed the sign, and you would relax after you had passed it.

Red lights, stop signs

In his car, you’d always play red light games, seeing who could memorize the most license plates from the last light, or who had the stupidest bumper sticker. When driving, you hated the red lights, you hated every second that you had to wait for them to turn green, every second that reminded you of the tragedy you had witnessed in this very seat.

I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Every white vehicle that passed by reminded you of him and his car. Regardless if it was a sports car or not, you always watched it until it passed out of your sight and turned the street’s corner, because you had to hope that maybe it was Atsumu, coming back to you.

Can't drive past the places we used to go to

You tried to sit down at the children’s park, at the top of the slide, another one of your safe spaces. It felt empty without your best friend at your side, and that same day, you saw Atsumu and the girl walking towards it. How could he have done that? How could he have the sacred space that you two had shared since you were kids with this outsider, because that’s all she would ever be to you. Needless to say, you left quickly, before you could be seen, and didn’t come back to the park again.

'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe 

It was so painfully obvious that you were in love with Atsumu, that you still were. Everytime his name was mentioned, a salty look crossed your face, and you made a great effort to change the topic, taking leaps and bounds to avoid him, and when you could, ignoring him in favor of talking to Aran and Osamu.

Sidewalks we crossed

Even getting drinks at the 7-Eleven was painful. Every crosswalk and curb had a story revolving around the two of you, your entire friendship’s history could be traced here, and now, it was all gone with no one to remember it, because Atsumu had found someone else, and you were left in too much pain to even try.

I still hear your voice in the traffic

As you walked, you touched every light pole and stopped at every spot on the sidewalk that you had a memory on. You reaccounted the stories, the memories, the past, and tried to get lost in the good so you could push away the bad.

We're laughing over all the noise

Noise coming from a group of young teens, probably first years, entered your ears. It was loud, boisterous laughter, the type that you and Atsumu had shared outside this very 7-Eleven over the course of many years.

God, I'm so blue, know we're through

And as you walked into the small store and filled your Slurpee, you looked down at the tiled floor, a stain from where Atsumu had accidentally opened and spilled an entire hair dye packet. The dread that you had been suppressing came back in a wave, crashing over you.

But I still fuckin' love you, babe 

You exited the store with your Slurpee, drinking it slowly through the straw. The walk from the parking lot to the sidewalk felt longer than it ever had, even though it was only five seconds. Too many memories in this very place, and not nearly enough time.

I know we weren't perfect

What had you done wrong? It must have been something, because good things happen to people who do things right. If you do things right, you’ll get what you want, always, right?

But I've never felt this way for no one

But you hadn’t calculated for one factor: The perfect girl with the perfect life. The girl who had everything you didn’t, who was everything you were not. And even though you had done everything correct, she had ruined everything.

And I just can't imagine

Walking home, you stopped briefly at Atsumu’s street sign like you always did when walking this way, but unlike the other days, you had never thought of going back. It had always seemed like an impossible option for you, too much to bear for your fragile mind.

How you could be so okay now that I'm gone

Your hands shook as you held your Slurpee in your hands, either from the coldness around you or from the tears that threatened to ruin you. You didn’t get cold often, so of course you knew the answer to that question. 

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

Looking down the street you saw the same porch light on, and the same sounds and smells you always got when you had passed by in recent times: Loud laughter and menthol. 

'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

You wished that you had told him “yes” that night at the sleepover. Maybe you could have avoided the heartbreak, and maybe he could have too, but all you had told him was that you’d be friends no matter what, too scared to tell him that you were most definitely in love with him. Or maybe you didn’t know, a childish mind unable to identify the feeling. It didn’t matter now, all you and he had done was stick out your pinkies to solidify the promise- “Friends forever.”

Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

You crossed the street, traveling away from the laughter and menthol, away from your supposed forever, and didn’t look back.

[route22ny]

What My Korean Father Taught Me About Defending Myself in America

Born in 1939 during what would be the last years of the Japanese colonial occupation of Korea, my father, Choung Tai Chee, also called Charles or Chuck or Charlie, came to the United States in 1960. He was flashy, cocky, unafraid, it seemed, of anything. Wherever we were in the world, he seemed at home, right up until near the end of his life, when he was hospitalized after a car accident that left him in a coma. Only in that hospital bed, his head shaved for surgery, did he look out of place to me.

A tae kwon do champion by the age of 18 in Korea, he had begun studying martial arts at age 8, eventually teaching them as a way to put himself through graduate school, first in engineering and then oceanography, in Texas, California, and Rhode Island. He loved the teaching. The rising popularity of martial arts in the 1960s in Hollywood meant he made celebrity friends like Frank Sinatra Jr., Paul Lynde, Sal Mineo, and Peter Fonda, who my father said had fixed him up on a date with his sister, Jane, in the days before Barbarella. A favorite photo from his time in Texas shows him flying through the air, a human horseshoe, each of his bare feet breaking a board held shoulder high on each side by his students.

When I complained about my wet boots during the winters growing up in Maine, he told me stories about running barefoot in the snow in Korea to harden his feet for tae kwon do. His answer to many of my childhood complaints was usually that I had to be tougher, stronger, prepared for any attack or disaster. The lesson his generation took from those they lost to the Korean War was that death was always close, and I know now that he was doing all he could to teach me to protect myself. When I cried at the beach at the water’s edge, afraid of the waves, he threw me in. “No son of mine is going to be afraid of the ocean,” he said. When I first started swimming lessons, he told me I had to be a strong swimmer, in case the boat I was on went down, so I could swim to shore. When he taught me to body-surf, he taught me about how to know the approach of an undertow, and how to survive a riptide. When I lacked a competitive streak, he took to racing me at something I loved—swimming underwater while holding my breath. I was an asthmatic child, but soon, intent on beating him, I could swim 50 yards this way at a time.

For all of that, he was an exceedingly gentle father. He took me snorkeling on his back, when I was five, telling me we were playing at being dolphins. There he taught me the names of the fish along the reef where we lived in Guam. He would praise the highlights in my hair, and laugh, calling me “Apollo.” And as for any pressure regarding my future career, he offered something very rare for a Korean man of his generation. “Be whatever you want to be,” he told me. “Just be the best at it that you can possibly be.”

Only when I was older did I understand the warning about being strong enough to swim to shore in another context, when I learned the boat he and his family had fled in from what was about to become North Korea nearly sank in a storm. In Seoul as a child, he scavenged food for his family with his older brother, coming home with bags of rice found on overturned military supply trucks, while his father went to the farms, collecting gleanings. His attempts to teach me to strip a chicken clean of its meat make a different sense now. I had thought of him as an immigrant without thinking about how the Korean War made him one of the dispossessed, almost a refugee, all before he left Korea.

When I began getting into fights as a child in the U.S., he put me into classes in karate and tae kwon do for these same reasons. He loved me and he wanted me to be strong. I just wasn’t sure how I was supposed to take on a whole country.

We moved to Maine in 1973, when I was six years old. My father had taken us back to Korea after I was born, to work for his father, and then moved us around the Pacific—from Seoul to the islands of Truk, Kawaii, and Guam, in his and my mother’s attempts to set up a fisheries company. Maine was his next experiment, and not coincidentally, my mother’s home state. On my first day of the first grade, in the cafeteria, after a morning spent in what seemed like reasonably friendly classes, my troubles began when I went up to take an empty seat at a table and the blond haired, blue-eyed white boy seated there looked up with some alarm and asked me, “Are you a chink?”

“What’s a chink?” I asked, though I knew it wasn’t a compliment. I had never heard this word before.

“A Chinese person. You look like a chink. Is that why your face is so flat?”

This was also the first day I can remember being insulted about my appearance.

“I am not Chinese,” I said that day, naively. In a few years I would learn I was in fact part Chinese, 41 generations back, but at that moment, I tried to explain to him about how I was half Korean, a nationality and situation he had never heard of before. Half of what? And so this was also the first day I had to explain myself to someone who didn’t care, who had already decided against me.

He was a white boy from America, and he was repeating insults that seem to me to have come from a secret book passed out to white children everywhere in this country, telling them to call someone Asian “Chink,” to walk up to them, muttering “Ching-chong, ching-chong.” To sing a song, “My mother’s Chinese, my father’s Japanese, I’m all mixed up,” pulling their eyes first down and then up and then alternating up and down.

I was struck, watching Minari a few months ago, when the film’s Korean immigrant protagonist, David, is asked by a white boy in Arkansas in the 1980s why his face is so flat. “It’s not,” David says, forcefully—so many of us have this memory of someone saying this to us and responding that way. Why did a boy in Arkansas and a boy in Maine, in their small towns thousands of miles apart, before the internet, each know to make this insult?

When I got home from that first day at school, I asked my mother what the word “Chink” meant, and she flinched and covered her mouth in concern.

“Who said that to you?” she asked, and I told her. I don’t remember the conversation that followed, just the swift look of concern on her face. The sense that something had found us.

I was the only Asian-American student at my school in 1973, and the first many of my classmates had ever met. When my brother joined me at school three years later, he was the second. When my sister arrived, four years after him, she was the third. My mother is white, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed American, born in Maine to a settler family. I have six ancestors who fought in the Revolutionary War, but none of them had to fight this. I don’t know how to separate the teasing, harassment, and bullying that marked my 12 years of life there from that first racist welcome. It makes me question whether I really had a “temper” as a child, as I was told, or whether I was merely isolated by racism among racists, afraid and angry?

My father dealt with racism throughout most of his life by acting as if it had never happened—as if admitting it made it more powerful. He knew bullies loved to see their victims react and would tell me to not let what they said upset me. “Why do you care what they think of you?” he would say, and laugh as he clapped me on the shoulder. “They’re all going to work for you someday.”

“Don’t get even, get ahead,” was another of his slogans for me at these times. As if America was a race we were going to win.

Two decades after his death, writing in my diary while on a subway in New York City, I began counting off all of my activities as a child—choir, concert band, swimming, karate and tae kwon do, clarinet, indoor track, downhill and cross country skiing—and I asked myself if my parents were trying to raise Batman. Then I looked down to the insignia on my Batman t-shirt, and I laughed.

These lessons my father gave me—to be the best you can be, to fight off your enemies and defeat them, to swim to safety if the boat sinks, and in general toughen yourself against everything that would harm you—these I had absorbed alongside certain unspoken lessons, taken from observing his life as a Korean immigrant. To have two names, one American, known to the public, and one Korean, known only to a few intimates; to get rid of your accent; and to dress well as a way to keep yourself above suspicion. Did I need to train like a superhero just to be a person in America? Maybe.

But if I thought of superheroes, it was because my father was like one to me, training me to be like him.

One legend I heard about my father when I was growing up is the story of a night he was being held up at gunpoint, while he was unpacking his car. Whoever it was asked him to shut the trunk and turn around and raise his hands in the air. He agreed to, slamming the car trunk down so forcefully, he sank his fingertips into the metal.

By the time he turned around, the would-be stick-up artist was gone.

He would often ask me and my brother to punch him, as hard as we could, in his stomach. He was proud of his abdominal strength—it was like punching a wall. We would shake our hands, howling, and he would laugh and rub our heads. One time he even used it as a gag to stop a bully.

A boy on my street had developed the habit of changing the rules during our games if his team started losing. We had fights over it that could be heard up and down the street, and one day I chased him with a Wiffle bat, him laughing as I ran. My father stepped in the next time he tried to change the rules during a game and prevented it, telling him all games in his yard had to have the same rules at the beginning as the end—you couldn’t change them when you were losing. When the boy got mad, he said, “I bet you want to hit me, you should hit me. You’ll feel better. Hit me right here, in the stomach, as hard as you can.”

The boy hauled off and punched my dad in the stomach. I knew what was coming. The boy went home crying, shaking his hand at the pain. His mom came over and they had a talk. The rule-changing stopped.

I tried teasing my classmates back after being told to by my father. Stand-up as self-defense requires practice, though: During a “Where are you from?” exercise in the second grade, I told my classmates and teacher I had “Made in Korea” stamped on my ass, which elicited shocked laughter and a punishment from my teacher. I remember the glee when I called a classmate an ignoramus, and he didn’t know what it meant—and got angrier and angrier when I wouldn’t tell him, demanding that I explain the insult. When told to go back to where I came from, I said, “You first.”

Increasingly, I just hid, in the library, in books. When given detention, I exulted in the chance to be alone and read. I was an advanced student compared to my classmates, due in part to my mother being a schoolteacher, and I learned to make my intelligence a weapon.

The day several boys held me down on my street and ran their bicycles over my legs, to see if I could take it, as if maybe I wasn’t human, that felt like some new horrible level. I don’t remember how that ended or if I ever told anyone, just the feeling of the bicycle tires rolling over the skin of my legs. The day I bragged about my father being a martial artist to my classmates, they locked me in the bathroom and told me to fight my way out with kung fu, calling me “Hong Kong Phooey,” after the cartoon character, as they held the door shut. This was the fourth grade. After I got out of that bathroom and went home, I told my father about it, and he told me it was time to take tae kwon do. I had to learn to defend myself.

I would never be like him, never break boards like him, but for a while, I tried. I still cherish the day he gave me my first gi and showed me how to tie it. I learned I had a natural flexibility, which meant I could easily kick high, and I took pride in my roundhouse and reverse roundhouse kicks. But after a few years, my father took issue with a story he’d heard about my teacher’s arrogance toward his opponents, and he pulled me out of the classes. “It is very dangerous to teach in that spirit,” he told me. And he said something I would never forget. “The best fighter in tae kwon do never fights,” he said. “He always finds another way.”

I have thought about this for a long time. For the ordinary practitioner, tae kwon do and karate prepare you to go about your life, aware of what to do in case of assault. They offer no guarantee, just chances for preparedness in the face of the violence of others as well as the violence within yourself. At the time I felt my father was describing the responsibility that comes with knowing how to hurt someone, but I came to understand it as a principled if conditional non-violence, which, in this year of quarantine and rising racist violence, is one of the clearest legacies he left to me.

Like many of us, I have been trying to write about these most recent attacks on Asian-Americans, some of them in my old neighborhood in New York, and I keep starting and stopping. How do we protect ourselves and those we love? Can writing do that? I know I learned to use my intelligence as a weapon to keep myself safe from racists, starting as a child, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like enough. The violence is like a puzzle with many moving parts, but the stakes are life and death. “You’re really going to homework your way through this one?” I keep asking myself. The people attacking Asians and Asian Americans now are like the boy I met on my first day in the first grade. They don’t care whether or not we are actually Chinese—the primary experience Asian Americans have in common is mis-identification. The person who gets a patriotic ego boost off of calling me a “chink” isn’t going to check if they’re right about me, and I don’t imagine they’ll stop their fist or their gun if I say, “You’re just doing this because of America’s history of war in Asia,” even though we both know this is true. And so I have been thinking of my father and what he taught me.

The most overt way my father fought racism in front of me involved no fighting at all. He founded a group called the Korean American Friendship Association of Maine, which helped new Korean immigrants move to Maine and find work, community, and housing, along with offering lessons on how to open bank accounts, pay taxes, file immigration paperwork, and get drivers’ licenses. For both of my parents, community organizing, activism, and mutual aid like this were commitments they shared and enjoyed and passed along to us, their children, and this led to much of my own work as an activist, teacher, and writer. I am not my father, but I am much as he made me.

There’s a difference between fighting racists and fighting racism. Where my father stayed silent, I have learned I have to speak out, which has felt, even while writing this, a little like betraying him. And as a biracial gay Korean American man, I don’t experience the same identifications or misidentifications he did. I am mistaken for white, or at least “not Asian,” as often as I’m mistaken for Chinese, and have felt like a secret agent as people speak in front of me about Asians in ways they would not otherwise. I learned most of my adult coping strategies for street violence from queer activist organizations after college.

Even as I write, “I wonder if he ever felt fear living in America,” it feels like a betrayal, especially as he isn’t around for me to ask him. I think again about how my father always made a point of dressing well, for example, but it always felt like more than that. Men wearing suits as a kind of armor, that isn’t so strange. He had his suits made at J. Press, wore handmade English leather shoes—shoes that fit me. I sometimes wear them for special occasions. Among my favorite objects of his is a monogrammed J. Press canvas briefcase, the name “CHEE” in embossed leather between the straps. After his father gave him an Omega Constellation watch when I was born, he eventually acquired others. For a time I thought he did this aspirationally, but most of his family in Korea is like this: Well-dressed, with a preference for tailoring and handmade clothes. All of my memories of my uncles coming from the airport to visit us involve them arriving in their blazers.

The first time I followed my father’s advice to wear a sports jacket when flying, I received a spontaneous upgrade. I didn’t have frequent flyer miles and the person checking me in was not flirting with me either. There was nothing but the moment of grace, and the feeling that my father, from beyond the grave, was making a point as I sat down in my new, larger, more spacious seat. Because I had never tried out this advice while he was alive.

Like much of my father’s advice, it came from his keen awareness of social contexts, and it worked. His wardrobe came from the pleasure of a dare more than a disguise. You don’t acquire a black and gold silk brocade smoking jacket in suburban Maine because you want to fit in with your white neighbors. Sometimes his clothes were a charm offensive, sometimes just a sass. The jacket advice may well have been an anticipation of racist treatment, of a piece with perfecting his English so he had no accent, and raising us to speak only English. My mother spoke more Korean to us as children than he did—a remnant of her time living in Seoul.

Now that I am old enough to choose to learn Korean, I still feel like a child disobeying him, just as I do when I dress too casually, or acknowledge that I’ve experienced racism. I know I am just making different choices, as you do when you are grown, but also, I am stepping out from behind his program to protect myself. I feel the fears he never spoke about, and instead simply addressed with what now look like tactics. At these moments I miss him as much as I ever do, but especially for how I would tell him, this may have protected you. It won’t protect me.

In my kitchen the other day, as I was making coffee, I fell into the ready stance, with my right foot back, left foot forward, and snapped my right leg up and out in a front snap kick. This is the basic first kick you learn in tae kwon do. And you do it again, and again, and again, until it is muscle memory. You move across the room this way and then turn to begin again.

I wasn’t sure if my form was exactly right, but it felt good. Memories came back of the sweaty smell of the practice room, the other students, the mirrors on the walls, the fluorescent lights. All those years ago, I had thought my father had put me in those classes in order to become him, but as I sent my practice kicks through the air, I remembered how even learning them made me feel safer, protected at least by the knowledge that he loved me. I could not have said this at the time, but after those attacks, I had feared I wasn’t strong enough to be his son.

I still fear that. I suppose it drives me, even now. It is dehumanizing to insist on your humanity, even and perhaps especially now, and so I am not doing that here. Each time I’ve tried to write even this, a rage takes over, and then the only thing I want to do with my hands doesn’t involve writing, and I stop. But I know from learning to fight that hitting someone else means using yourself to do it. My father’s advice, about fighting being the last resort, has given me another lesson: You turn yourself into the weapon when you strike someone else—in the end, another way to erase yourself—and so you do that last. In the meantime, you fight that first fight with yourself, for yourself.

You may never be able to protect what you love, but at least you can try. At least you will be ready.

Alexander Chee is most recently the author of the essay collection How to Write an Autobiographical Novel. A novelist and essayist, he teaches at Dartmouth College and lives in Vermont.

[joezworld]

📂

What in the HECK happened with Scotsman, Dominion, and Dwight during the Great Gathering?!

(Also, since Dutchess of Hamilton has also been to the US during the 1939 NY World’s Fair, did she get involved?)

Warning - extremely long post below

So, first of all, Duchess of Hamilton never went back to the UK.

Duchess of Hamilton (6229) and Coronation (6220) had their nameplates swapped by the LMS when an engine was sent over to the US. 6229, in the guise of 6220, went to the US.

Streamlined locomotives were all the rage at the time, and railroads practically fell over themselves to get Coronation (as she was now known) onto press trains. The B&O railroad in particular was so impressed with her capabilities that they extended a formal offer of employment to her for service on their streamlined Royal Blue service. The LMS were surprised to get an offer to "purchase" their locomotive, but accepted nonetheless, as it meant a welcome infusion of cash in the dark days during the beginning of WWII.

Coronation fit right in with the Americans, having only been about a year old when she was sent to New York. Following the end of steam traction on the Royal Blue in the late 40s, (the B&O were early adopters of diesels.) she and her B&O coworkers found good employment on the New York Central, where she still runs to this day.

Since then, she's fully "gone native", marrying a J3 Hudson, (yes one of the streamlined ones) adopting both an American accent and three children, and being fully repainted to NYC silver by 1956. Flying Scotsman met her in Albany in 1970, and neither one of them recognized the other.

Actually, most UK expats don't recognize her, to the point where a common interaction is for her to be held up as an example of "look at her, she's integrated well into the US", only for the British engines to say "that's preposterous, she isn't English".

When it's pointed out that she's still obviously an LMS Coronation, the next response is usually screaming.

All that being said, she has no interest to come back to the United Kingdom, and wasn’t asked by the NRM anyways. 

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Second of all, the Great Gathering was... an event.

So, there are (officially) 6 preserved Gresley A4s.

Mallard - static, National Railway Museum (UK). Also an asshole.

Bittern - running, private owner, UK based

Sir Nigel Gresley - running, owned by a trust, UK based

Union of South Africa - running, private owner, UK based

Dwight D. Eisenhower - static (officially), National Railway Museum (USA)

Dominion of Canada - static (officially), Exporail (Montréal)

This is the official list, and for the first 4 engines, it's the truth.

However, things are a bit hazier on the other side of the Atlantic...

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So the thing that needs to be made clear right up front that in a sentient vehicle world, museums aren't like the NRM, where locomotives sit static for years on end, although obviously the English have museums like that because of course they do.

Rail museums in the rest of the world are much more like Colonial Williamsburg - a living history center staffed by volunteers who act out a prototypical setting from [insert decade here].

British Rail, being British Rail, didn’t know that and didn’t care.

-

4496, Dwight D. Eisenhower, having been named after the General-turned-President, had been earmarked for preservation by BR, and was summarily shipped off to the US National Railway Museum in Green Bay, Wisconsin.

In an entirely unintentional move, this donation MONUMENTALLY snubbed the Smithsonian, who refused to have any dealings with BR for decades, even for archival purposes. This, combined with the fallout from Operation Smash Hit, and the fact that the Smithsonian is Petty AF, meant that there was virtually no official trans-Atlantic cooperation between British and US museums for decades.

Dwight hit the shores of the US in 1964 New York City and was greeted by a marching band, a ticker-tape parade, and Presidents Johnson and Eisenhower, who were on-hand to personally make the engine a US citizen.

Always keen to curry favor with the government, the Southern Pacific railroad had a job offer waiting for Dwight right alongside the Presidents and the parade, and when he accepted, he went off to Sunny Southern California - someplace so opposed to Britain the he fell in love with the place immediately and refused to leave!

The ladies may have also had something to do with it as well - while most engine classes fell into a typical 50-50 gender distribution, the SP GS-4 class was all female...

[Pictured above - one of 28 very good reasons to live in California if you're a single British steam engine.]

Dwight does not kiss and tell, but at his wedding in 1974, all 28 GS-4s showed up - and he was only marrying one of them!

Since the 70's, he's become a mainstay in California, having been repainted into Daylight Limited colors in 1969, and retiring from railroad duties in 1999. After that, he went into the movie business, and is currently the head of digital media development at Disney.

His wife Irene (SP 4437) is also an interesting figure as well - following in the wheelmarks of the great female locomotives before her, she had an eye for business and a Stanford education before she married her husband, and was an initial investor in multiple tech companies in Silicon Valley during the 70's and 80's, but stopped doing that after her investment in Apple proved very lucrative. In 1996, she was convinced by a few people in the Stanford Alumni association to invest in another tech startup, this one an "internet search engine" called Google.

So yeah, Dwight Eisenhower kept falling up and up and up all his life, and is now married to the richest woman in the world.

--

4489 Dominion of Canada was donated mostly by accident, having been forgotten in the back of Darlington sheds until 1966, when she was shipped off to the Canadian Railway Historical Society in Montreal.

As stated elsewhere, the Canadian Government considered any locomotive built in the UK to have UK citizenship, and therefore treated them as commonwealth citizens under existing Canadian law. (remember that Canada was still a colony at that time)

CN, the national rail carrier, was obligated to offer her a job under their charter, and she accepted, moving to Toronto to run intercity trains between Toronto, Montreal, and Ottawa.

Within two years she was displaced from those duties by the introduction of a new, shiny, jet turbine powered train, and was summarily demoted to local commuter runs in the Toronto suburbs.

Moving to suburbia did one thing more than anything else - expose her to the people who live there. They all had complaints, they all had problems, and they all had no idea on how to fix them.

Being a helpful sort, Dominion decided that she could help, and promptly ran for Toronto city council in 1974. She won, and has been a fixture in local Toronto politics ever since - she even got to be Chairwoman of Metro Toronto (the closest thing to being mayor because Toronto's governmental structure is weird) until 1998, when Toronto was merged with the surrounding area to create a massive new region.

Having then done everything there is to do in municipal Toronto government, Dominion went on to become the Chief Executive Officer of Metrolinx, the agency that controls almost all of the transit agencies in Ontario, because, as she puts it, "I'm still a commuter engine at heart".

She's now painted in the current GO Transit paint scheme, and still does commuter runs- which is really weird looking now that there are double deck commuter coaches in a push-pull configuration, with a Gresley A4 doing the pushing.

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Now, I mentioned that those 6 were the only ones officially preserved - there were two unofficial preservations as well...

-

4486 Merlin was properly Shanghied - he was yanked off the docks in Southhampton by a cargo ship in August of 1965, and was spirited away to parts unknown.

Those unknown parts turned out to be South Korea. There, he was given citizenship by the US-aligned military dictatorship (Korean history is wild) and was employed by the State-run rail operator.

As the military government began a hardcore plan to increase their country's wealth and industrial output, rail lines were being built across the country, and Merlin was soon awarded a position on the fastest train in the network, the Seoul-Busan Saemaeul-ho.

Because of his experience in running high-speed express trains, Merlin not only became the public face of Korean high-speed rail, but also became an "honored elder" amongst the other Korean engines, a position he still holds to this day - as despite being over 70 years old, he still runs daily trains on the fast services, easily keeping time with the Korean schedules as well as training the new high speed trains, including the KTX sets. He's on his 24th boiler by now, and has more parts from Hyundai than Doncaster.

An additional fact - Merlin actually has had a linguistic effect on Korean railroading, as his strange amalgamation of an accent - a strong Yorkshire accent that tried to be Received Pronunciation for 30 years, mixed with almost 50 years of middle-to-upper-class Korean - has filtered down through the ranks of KoRail, because all of his students want to sound like him out of respect. Human British expats in Korea will occasionally hear a locomotive speaking in English, and the engine will sound like a Yorkshireman every time and the Brits cannot handle it.

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4495 Golden Fleece is the only A4 to preserve himself - he saw the writing on the wall in the early 60s, and hopped a car ferry to France at the end of 1962. From there, he bounced around Europe for a bit before making it to the United States in the late 70's.

Of the 8 surviving A4s, he's probably led the quietest life of all - he moved to Miami before it got nice, and basically got in on the ground floor of CSX when that merger happened in 1980. He's now the head of terminal operations for the Port of Miami, but he's generally kept a low profile - not even having a chance to meet Scotsman due to his time in Europe.

He's still in contact with Dwight and Dominion, and has no real bitterness over not being "famous" like they are - he likes the quiet, and still lives in a modest house in Boynton Beach with his long-term girlfriend.

----------------------

Soooo... the Great Gathering.

It was supposed to be a meeting of the 6 surviving A4s - a two year event held at the NRM in honor of the 75th anniversary of Mallard's record-setting run.

"Record setting" is a past-tense term here. While there have been no official runs, every single one of the Pennsylvania Railroad's T1 and S1 locomotives claim to have gone faster than 126 without meaning to, and numerous other locomotives on unofficial attempts done late at night on flat stretches of land across the country have hit 130+.

British Expats have also done better than 126 - Coronation claims to have hit at least 140 on a midnight mail train in 1980, and in Korea, Merlin claims to have hit 128 on a test train, although that was judged by timing mile markers as his speedometer wasn't functioning properly.

Problems arose before any of the engines had even reached the NRM, as Mallard's already sizeable ego had swelled to massive proportions, and several engines in the great hall were planning a justifiable homicide.

Then came the time restraints - none of the foreign locomotives were willing to uproot their lives and jobs for two years just to sit motionless in a shed. A two year exhibition was eventually negotiated down to a 6 month gala, much to the irritation and confusion of the NRM, who could not understand that the engines were still in service.

Then came the extra engines - Dwight and Dominion thought that the NRM knew about Fleece, and were quite insulted on his behalf when he wasn't invited - they threatened to not attend unless arrangements were made for Fleece to attend as well.

An utterly baffled NRM agreed, but also tore their record archives apart, as they knew that Fleece had been scrapped. The fact that his picture was plastered all over CSX's Florida Division website was all the more confusing as a result.

-

Meanwhile in Busan, nobody knew that Merlin had escaped the scrappers' torch and therefore did not invite him. He was only informed after K-Pop star Psy texted him from London to ask if he knew about the event, which was being advertised on television.

Merlin, having missed his friends from the LNER, decided that he would just crash the party, used some of his many vacation days, and took off for England on a cargo ship.

-

By sheer coincidence, all four foreign A4s hit the dock in Southhampton on the same day, and were delighted to see each other - especially Merlin, considering that everyone else had thought he'd died.

Meanwhile at the NRM, delight was not the word one would use. Befuddled, confused, shocked even, but not delighted. Their plans had revolved around 6 A4s, most of which wouldn’t be running - only to now discover that there were 7, all but one of which were functioning! (Mallard, the star of the show, was the odd one out, and it drove him crazy) 

Then they got a phone call from their man at the docks saying that another one had showed up, looking like he’d driven out of a K-pop album cover, and they just gave up and started screaming. 

-

Screaming is also what happened when the cavalcade of foreigners showed up in York - first of all, the quartet of new engines sounded nothing like they had when they left England. 

Dwight had willfully unlearned his Upper Crust British accent by 1971, and had fallen deep into a California accent (quite similar to what Scotsman sounds like - coincidence? No.)

Dominion and Fleece hadn’t tried to unlearn their accents, but 40+ years of living in North America can really dilute the Britishness. It doesn’t help that Dominion has developed most Canadian vocal tics eh?

As stated above, Merlin has a weird fuckin accent, and now he speaks English with a strong Yorkshire accent, but will occasionally and without warning drop into a Korean/Yorkshire hybrid accent.

The screaming also happened because the NRM had wanted to repaint the duo trio! quartet?! into LNER garter blue, and were promptly informed that “we’re painted like this for work! Don’t touch it!” (the sole exception was Dwight, who hadn’t pulled a real train in 14 years, but he liked his Daylight Limited paint), so instead of the new arrivals showing up in LNER colours, they showed up looking like THIS:

Having their long-lost siblings show up looking and sounding like THAT had quite an affect on the A4s and the other NRM engines: 

Bittern could not believe her eyes - to the point where she actually began making noise about seeing an optometrist

Union of South Africa almost backed through a wall

Sir Nigel Gresley was speechless for two days

Mallard was so angry that he actually chipped a tooth during one of his rants about “the impropriety of it all!!”

Evening Star laughed so hard that he managed to derail himself without moving

City of Truro almost cracked a piston from shock

Alycidon spent the entire gala coming up with more and more laser focused jabs at Mallard - who was so easy to fluster that the Deltic needn’t have bothered 

Oliver Cromwell and Green Arrow made fast friends with the new arrivals, and spent the entire time learning ‘Americanisms’ to annoy the other engines with.

But what about Flying Scotsman? Where was he in all of this? He was generally considered to be the “leader” of the NRM fleet (much to Mallard’s annoyance), and was usually who the other engines turned to when things started getting out of control. 

Did Scotsman calm things down? Like hell he did. The inmates were running the asylum from the moment that Scotsman saw the other A4s - more importantly saw Dwight - and immediately greeted them in flawless Californian. 

This actually set off the building’s security alarm, as Flying Scotsman saying “DUDES! Wassup?!” caused such an uproar that the noise broke several exterior windows. 

----

And all of this was in the first few days - there were six months left to go. 

--

There was one railtour attempt. It was supposed to feature Bittern and Sir Nigel running in tandem, but instead featured Dwight and Merlin, mainly because Bittern wanted to see what would happen. 

They exceeded the max speed limit for steam traction within 15 minutes, sparked a thorough investigation by the RAIB, and got all future steam powered railtours for the Gathering cancelled immediately. 

On the plus side, the two engines did prove that it was still possible for a steam train to hit 100 safely. 

--

One thing that baffled the other engines was the inordinately large number of people who turned up just to see Dominion, and the one person who kept turning up to see Fleece - it took a lot of explaining for them to understand that Dominion had been married three times, and had children (adopted) and grandchildren from all three marriages coming to see her. A similar amount of explaining was required to explain that Fleece’s girlfriend/partner wanted to see him too. 

The normally chatty Dwight and Scotsman would suddenly clam up whenever Dominion and Fleece teasingly tried to ask about their love lives, something which wasn’t unnoticed by the other engines, but got similarly nowhere. 

The answer to why they both shut the hell up was explained when a lot of shouting broke out in the yard of the NRM one day about a month into the exhibition:

Irene Eisenhower, not content to sit in California and count her billions, quickly grew bored without her husband, and decided to go to England and be with him. The fact that she definitely did not fit the UK loading gauge was never even a consideration, and so she just showed up in York on the back of a lorry, having informed no-one of her arrival, and content to just pay off the requisite people if a fuss occurred. 

A fuss did occur, and it was only ended when Scotsman managed to convince the museum’s curator (who at this point in his life was regretting ever thinking of this damned gathering) that Irene was a ‘temporary donation’ to the museum. 

[Scotsman, who definitely hid his Cali accent from museum staff the entire time, has one of the best poker faces in the world]

Dwight was overjoyed, and so was Scotsman, for initially unclear reasons. Then Irene managed to grab both her husband and Scotsman, dragged them behind a shed, and [THIS IS A PG13 HEADCANON] the both of [PG13]. Turns out that while Scotsman may have slept his way across the US a few times, he was actually ready to settle down with Dwight and Irene - they were a throuple way back in the 70s, and those passions haven’t faded. When Scotsman reluctantly left the US in 74, a lot of the reluctance was because of those two. 

This bombshell of a revelation went over interestingly at the NRM. Some engines (Green Arrow) were happy for them, some were incensed (Mallard - although it was for anti-American reasons, not homophobic ones), and some were intensely curious about what was going on in the outside world (Bittern). 

-

The ‘foreigners’ (as Mallard had taken to calling them), were deeply displeased at how their fellow engines were being treated - while a lot of them were ‘in steam’, some were not and might never be again, something they found abhorrent. Unable to do anything at that time, as the NRM was not a for-profit entity and therefore did not have anyone to bribe, (Irene’s solution to things is to throw money at the situation) the engines started talking about how life was different in the outside world - namely that engines were still working hard, even when they were over a century old and running on steam power. 

This was of great interest to engines like Evening Star and (6220) Duchess of Hamilton, neither of whom were likely to be steamed again, and Bittern, who was growing more and more curious with each passing day. Dissent began to slowly build against the NRM curators, and the culture of the United Kingdom in general.

-

One thing the foreigners did try do something about was Ellerman Lines. The poor bastard had been sectioned to show his inner workings, much to the jaw-dropped horror of the foreign A4s, who made such a stink about it that he was moved outside the museum by NRM staff, who must have thought that the engines lacked object permanence or something, because that didn’t make it better!

-

Irene Eisenhower, who was beginning to get really sick of the nonsense that the NRM called preservation, (Scotsman was not in running condition, and had been hastily reassembled mid-overhaul in order to be cosmetically ready for the event, and let’s not forget poor Ellerman Lines) elected to bring the event to a close on her own after only three months. She did this by eventually putting her immense wealth to good use, and called for a haulage service to rescue the engines from the NRM without the knowledge of the museum staff. Aside from the A4s, she also took Ellerman Lines, Scotsman, and Bittern (who had asked to go) with her, and only bothered to inform Ellerman and Bittern - she was not about risk Scotsman having another “think of England” moment and staying. 

The haulage firm was efficient and the cargo ship was waiting, so the engines were in international waters before the NRM opened the next morning. 

Much swearing occurred in England that day, and the NRM’s image has yet to fully recover from the PR story that they had sold Flying Scotsman (and Ellerman Lines) to a reclusive American billionaire. 

Privately though, the NRM does not care, as that story is a lot better than “Someone stole our engines and we’re not allowed to get them back because as it turns out we’re slaveowners, so no international court will help us.”

Also, despite their multimillion dollar “donation" from the I. Eisenhower Opportunity Fund, they still haven’t been able to fully pacify their engines, all of whom have somehow gotten the idea that they should be running in main line service like they live on Sodor or something...

--------

Dwight, Scotsman, and Irene all live happily together in the sprawling Eisenhower estate in Malibu. Irene is currently lobbying the California state government to legalize polygamy, with moderate success. 

-

Ellerman Lines, after a lot of therapy and a full rebuild, is now working on a short line in Wyoming. He likes the scenery.

-

Bittern followed Dwight, Irene, and Scotsman to Los Angeles, and used her ‘connections’ (Dwight) to get a supporting role in Avengers: Age of Ultron. Since then, she’s gotten several roles based on her own merits, including an Emmy nomination for Best Guest Appearance in a Comedy.

-

Merlin spent a few months in LA before he went back to Korea. He is very thankful that he was able to reconnect with his brothers and sisters, and that his homeland has good internet, as he video calls his family across the Pacific almost every day.

-

Golden Fleece still lives a quiet life in Florida, but finally decided to tie the knot, and married his girlfriend in 2017. The ceremony was supposed to be quiet, but Irene Eisenhower has no idea what that word means. 

-

Dominion of Canada continues to baffle non-local trainspotters when she runs commuter trains into Toronto. She is now a great-grandmother. 

-

7 years later, and the term “Great Gathering” is still a forbidden phrase in the back rooms of the NRM.

[romantichopelessly]

Roman’s List

Synopsis: This is 100% romangst, based on a single line from this latest video. That’s it. I do not apologize. I did not edit this. Goodbye.

Word Count: 1543

----

When Roman wrote, prose flowed from his mind like water from a tap. Steady most of the time and of questionable quality depending on the day, but flow it did. Verses came to Roman as easily as breathing. If one had occasional asthma, that was. Roman could pull out rhymes like so many dimes from his silver-lined pockets, even though his go-to metallic was gold.

Roman was a writer. Roman was a creative.

As such, Roman’s room was filled to the brim with notebooks. Notebooks filled with scribbles and ideas, sketches and poetry that never saw the light of day and love letter after love letter after diary entry. Notebooks that were as empty and clean as the day that he acquired them. Primed and ready to use in whatever way the prince saw fit, if he ever found the perfect use for a cherry red journal with a golden leaf pattern winding the cover.

However, there was one notebook that was not like the others. This notebook--plain and black, with a bound leather spine and a white satin built in bookmark--spent most of its time in the small crevice on the back of the prince’s mirror.

It was a difficult place to keep a journal, especially when Roman found something to put in said journal at least once a day, meaning that his poor innocent mirror was being moved far too often to excuse the elaborate hiding spot.

The journal contained a list. Roman, as a creative, was not one for making itemized lists. Really, that was more of Logan’s thing. However, this specific list had been ongoing for years now. If the notebook that the list filled was not imaginary, Roman would probably be on his third or fourth notebook.

Roman had started this list when Thomas was in his late highschool years. About the time that he was deciding what to do with his future, to be exact. The first entry was simple. A bullet point and a mistake. The first documented of many.

I lost us the lead in the school play. Thomas has decided to major in chemistry.

It wasn’t much, at the time. Roman didn’t even truly remember what it was that made him write down what was then seen as a colossal failure on his part. One minute he had been disappointed by Thomas’s decision to give up on his acting dreams, and the next he was huddled on the floor of his room, his reflection staring back at him from an awkward angle in his mirror, his breath coming in short gasps and chastisements running through his mind on a loop. Failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, failure--

When Roman came back from his spiral, his bright red glitter gel pen was already in his hands, and the words were already scripting themselves across the page of the notebook he hadn’t remembered reaching for. It was only when the mistake was written down that Roman felt the weight--or at least a very small part of it--release from his chest.

And there was the first on the list of Roman’s mistakes. Written neatly for future reference, to be looked back upon so that he would never ever fail Thomas in such a way again.

Of course, everyone knew that that was not the last time that Roman would let Thomas down.

The list grew slowly at first. Roman was still confident in his ability to be the perfect creativity for Thomas. He brought ideas whenever Thomas needed them. He encouraged Thomas’s passions, even though they were no longer a part of his career path. He pushed for Thomas to pursue his dreams in between engineering classes and organic chemistry papers, and for Thomas to pursue cute boys.

The only times the notebook was pulled out and Roman’s list grew longer was when the pursuit of dreams interfered a bit too much with Thomas’s work.

He never wanted to hurt Logan. Honest.

The notebook and the list was almost forgotten when Thomas finally gave up on chemical engineering and decided to become an actor. By the time Vine came around, Roman felt practically unbeatable. Sure, every once in a while he would do something that garnered the need of the notebook and its list, but more often than not, Roman was unstoppable.

He considered getting rid of the list.

On July 15, 2017, Roman’s list of mistakes nearly doubled in size.

After Virgil had revealed his name and Roman had apologized for making the anxious nelly feel so unwelcome as a part of Thomas, everything suddenly became a lot more clear.

He had been making mistakes for so long without even knowing it.

Every harsh name that Roman had ever aimed at Virgil was added to the list. All the times that Roman mocked his very real worries and sent Thomas out unprepared into the world were added to the list. Each time that he shot Virgil a look that made the anxious side flinch away--as if Roman were the villain, and goodness gracious Zeus above, if Virgil wasn’t the villain in those situations, perhaps he was--were added to the list. All the times that Roman doubted Patton’s judgement about his “shadowling” were added to the list. Entire years of Roman’s life were added to the list, because hurting Virgil was hurting Thomas, because like it or not Virgil did not, in fact, set out to hurt Thomas, and how could Roman have been so stupid to not realize that--

After that, Roman decided that he needed to be more cautious.

He needed to check himself. The list was kept for a reason. So that he could stop failing Thomas. He decided that he would be more open minded. He couldn’t chance hurting Thomas like he had with Virgil ever again.

So when Deceit revealed himself to Thomas, that was how Roman approached the situation.

Even with the list in mind, Roman still made mistakes. He got defensive around Deceit, modeling after Patton, and every night afterwards, Roman would add those names to the list. It was like Virgil all over again. Sure, it wasn’t obvious now that Deceit was another knight in shining armor for Thomas, but Roman had been wrong before. He had been wrong too many times to count now. He couldn’t take that chance again.

When the callback came up, even Roman’s list couldn’t advise him.

Deceit wanted to go to the callback. Patton was saying that that was wrong. Roman had never before made a mistake when agreeing with Patton. Patton was almost always right. He knew what was good for Thomas. On the other hand, shutting out Deceit was almost exactly like the previous mistakes that Roman had made in regards to Virgil.

And on the third pretend-it-doesn’t-exist hand, Roman desperately wanted to go to the callback.

He wanted it more than he had wanted anything in quite a long time. And Roman was a selfish creature. Selfishness had appeared in his list on more than one occasion.

So Roman did what he thought was best--not what he wanted, no, never what he wanted, the stakes were too large to risk yet another failure against Thomas--and Roman listened to Patton. He sentenced Thomas to the wedding.

A mistake was not added to the list that night. He had finally done something right.

Then along came the day of the wedding, and Thomas was hurting. Roman didn’t quite know how--of course he didn’t, he was too stupid to figure it out--but he knew that this was his fault.

Patton tried to make light of it. Good, caring Patton tried to fix Roman’s mess, and ungrateful Roman just kept messing it up.

Everything tumbled downhill after that. Roman’s progress was Humpty-Dumpty, and his fall came in the form of aggressive overcorrection of his actions and a nervous laugh at an admittedly funny name.

And a nail in the coffin.

A confirmation that this failure was the final nail in the coffin.

“I thought I was your hero?”

A shake of a head.

Roman sunk out to his room and shoved his mirror off of his wall without a thought to the fragile glass it was made of. He pulled out the notebook with shaking fingers and grabbed a pen off his desk with a complete lack of care.

CHOOSING THE WEDDING.

Listening to Dec Janus.

Not listening to Janus.

Skipping Logan.

Not watching out for Thomas

Laughing at his name.

Item after item was added to the list. The pages of the notebook crumpled under his careless hand as he gripped the pages with an intensity that he didn’t even know how to feel. The pages were wet, his tears hitting the pages and drying in rough patches on the paper.

He didn’t even know himself what the real mistakes were. He wrote them all down for good measure.

By the time that Roman ran out of energy, the list was almost incomprehensible. Words scratched out and doubled over, not following the lines of the notebook and in atrocious handwriting.

But it would have to do. Because Roman couldn’t afford any more mistakes. This list could not afford to get any longer than it already was. He couldn’t fail Thomas this catastrophically ever again.