#YES IF YOU CONTINUE TREAT ME LIKE THIS I AM GOING TO FAIL THIS SEMESTER

[emmyrosee]

okay so, this evening has not been fun for me, so ofc I’m gonna try coping via escapism 🤩

and as always you are absolutely NOT obligated to write it. I’m so serious, if you don’t want to there’s absolutely zero pressure emmy, I’d completely understand one hundred percent.

very long story short, I got my grades back for this semester and despite doing soooo much better overall this year than my first year and not failing a single class this time around, unless I get a miracle it’s looking like I’m going to have to be asked to withdraw from my university for a whole year ☹️

and as someone who got straight As from elementary til my last year of high school/made school my whole life, this is just an enormous blow to any self confidence I had finally built back up. I was doing better mentally and finally feeling a bit like myself again and I’ve just felt so sick with anxiety all evening because I don’t even know what to do anymore. If they decide to ask me to leave, it’ll make my chances of medical school even slimmer than they already were and I can’t help but feel like a bit of a failure and like I’ve just ruined my future despite knowing it’s not all true and I still have options :(

it’s so hyper specific and I’m so so so sorry abt that, but would it be possible for some comfort + tons of fluff with kuroo possibly? I just want to be babied a bit by this fictional man LOL. I feel like he’d know exactly what to do and how to get my mind off of it until I inevitably get that email :(

anon <3

My love, I am so sorry you’re having to go through this, and I am here, to PERSONALLY, tell you that you are far from a failure, and you should still be proud of yourself for getting so far. It’s okay to have bumps like this that halt your dreams, and it doesn’t make you any less deserving of continuing to chase those dreams. And hey! Use me as an example! I went from being a mechanic for four years and being fired for being so terrible (yes that is an actual thing that happened) then I went to college for writing; and now I’m a licensed esthetician with a focus in makeup artistry! There is no such thing as a dead end, no such thing as a closed room, just keep treating yourself gently and reminding yourself that this is far from over, your dream is still more than obtainable with some time and it is more than okay.

Ahem. Let me get off my soapbox PFFFF-

——-

Last night, you refreshed your emails who knows how many times, staring at your computer screen on the verge of hyperventilating for what felt like hours- and it might have been; your brain can’t process how long it was right now.

Your bottom lip was tight between your teeth, the hand on the mouse pad trembling, waiting in anticipation, tight with nerves. Your other rested a fist on your lap, waiting for the results and occasionally wiping a rogue tear that falls.

There’s a soft rapping on the door, but you don’t turn to face it. You merely keep refreshing.

“Hey,” tetsuro whispers, and you hear his feet padding into the room, and when he gets next to you, he crouches down. Once again, you can’t spare him a glance. “Any updates?”

You stay silent. He winces, “I’ll take that at a no…” he lays a warm hand on your back and gently rubs it in circles, “it’s okay baby. We’ll figure it out, we always do.”

“Tetsuro, please,” you whimper, not quite in the mood for a pep talk. “I’m going to puke right now, my life is in flames and crumbling around me, I’m so nervous, please. Save the pep talk, I can’t handle it right now.”

“I'm sorry,” he soothes. He doesn’t say anything further, just rubbing your back in slow, firm circles with his palm, blinking his golden eyes up at you warmly, lovingly.

You feel your body cramp from being under his loving touch, suddenly dawning on you just how long you've been sitting in the chair, inert and unwilling to peel your eyes from the email inbox. You suddenly become hyperaware of how your legs feel numb, your fingers are cramped and your eyes are burning. It's the first time in hours you've taken a break from your refreshing to scrub at your eyes, breeding a wetness to try and soothe the sting.

You hear Tetsuro sigh, "why... don't we go to bed, angel?"

"No."

"But-"

"I can't," you whimper. "Not now. Not yet-" your breathing picks up as you look at him in despair, chest fluttering and heart pounding as you try to breathe. He furrows his brows and shushes you softly, big hands moving to cradle your cheeks and force you to look at him.

"Baby," he says softly, but firm enough to ground you. "It's late. They're not going to send it this late at night. And if they do, we'll deal with it when we wake up tomorrow. But I'm almost certain they're not going to send it to you this late. I promise, okay?"

You let out a shaky sigh and look at the time: 22:43. It's far too late to be thinking, to be worrying, and you'd much rather breakdown in the comfort of your own bed, than alone in this wooden chair.

But you do know that, no matter what, Tetsuro is going to be right next to you, rubbing your back and cradling you close.

When you say nothing, Tetsuro slowly stands up and scoops you in his big, strong arms, "come on, angel face. Let's get some rest." You thunk your head against his chest and fist your fingers into the collar of his shirt, letting him carry you to the bathroom where he plops you down on the countertop.

He grabs your toothbrush and some toothpaste, and gently tells you to open, which you sleepily do. He's extra careful, making sure to get every tooth he can, scrubbing softly as to not make you uncomfortable. Silence, save for the bristles on the toothbrush, fills the room, the corner of Tetsuro's tongue sticking out in focus.

"Okay. Spit," he says, moving so you can comfortably turn your head and spit the froth out. Skincare comes next, and his touch is even softer as he massages in every product you use.

"Good girl," he whispers, picking you back up to carry you to bed. "My good girl. Good, brave girl..."

You drift off in his arms at his praise, not even feeling the way he gets you into pajamas or gets you under the covers, the exhaustion of the constant high of anxiety weighing you down.

Waking up this morning, your bones feel like bricks under the wall of your muscles, barely able to move under the force of it all. Your skin feels like paper, so hyper aware of it now that you’ve had the time to come down from your anxious state. You blink up at your ceiling, eyelids tight as you do, and you continue to stare and let your body wake up molecule by molecule, inch by inch. You feel it coming to life, and you slowly bring your hands up to press the heels of your palms into your eyesockets to force the rest of the sleep out of your eyes.

When your hand then drops next to you, you feel yourself grow saddened at the lack of warmth. Tetsuro’s been out of bed long enough to let his side cool down, and it makes you want to cry at the idea of being alone right now.

You never should’ve shut him down last night. All he wanted to do was help, and you shut him up and made him feel bad, now he’s not even in bed with you anymore, and you feel tears sting at your eyes again, this time out of anxiety of making him upset, and-

“Ah, you’re up.”

Your guilty, howling mind shuts up as soon as tetsuro’s body makes its way into the doorway, smiling and stirring his tea with a spoon. “Good morning, babygirl.” He takes a step into the bedroom and before you know it, he’s at your side, sitting on the bed next to you. He uses his free arm to wrap around you, but not pull you to his chest. “Did you sleep okay?”

“No,” you whimper, voice croaky. He nods and lets his thumb rub up and down the curve of your shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at you last night.”

His brow cocks in confusion, “huh?”

Now, finally, you turn to face him, “I snapped at you… I told you to-“

“You told me you didn’t want a pep talk,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s okay. You’re allowed to tell me that my words might not be the most helpful. I’m not going to get mad at you for that. It’s not like you told me to shut my ugly ass up- you’d never do that, I’m too pretty.”

This, for the first time in what feels like days, has you crack a smile. You let out a small laugh, breathy and barely there, but he smiles proudly all the same, pulling you in for a hug now. “You’re a goof,” you murmur.

“And you, need to eat something,” he whispers against your head, and you deflate in his arms again. “Don’t you protest me, you know you have to eat something.”

“‘M not hungry,” you say.

“I know, but you didn’t eat last night, and I let you sleep in-“ at his words, your eyes flick to the clock on your nightstand, red numbers flicked onto 10:24. “You have to have something.”

“But-“

“I know,” he says. “Do you want something sweet, or savory?”

20 questions. It’s something he does after a fit of your anxiety to try and make your life just a hair easier, decisions quicker, and your day just a bit brighter because you’re getting exactly what you want. He claims he used to do it with kenma, hence why he’s so good at it.

“Uhm…” you shrug, “why not both?”

“Both?” He echos. “Okay. Do you want fruit?” You nod. He nods with you. “Okay. How about a bagel?” You nod again. “Okay. With some cream cheese?” You shake your head and he clicks his tongue, “butter?” You shake your head again, “okay. Uhmmmm-“

“I want to do it,” you mumble, and he presses a kiss to your head.

“You sure? Because I can whip something up-“

“I have to do it. I have to put the toppings on my bagel.”

He nods a final time and squeezes you close, “okay. If you need any help deciding, I’m right here, okay? I’ll be cutting your fruit.”

You hum and slowly swing your legs out of the bed, stretching and mewling from the force. When your hand instinctively darts for your phone, he clicks his tongue, "leave it. You don't need it right now."

"But-"

"I told your family to text me if they need you. Your phone is on do not disturb. Leave it there, babe." He swings his own long legs over and extends a hand out to you, wiggling his fingers enticingly for you to hold. When you grab three of them, he smiles and slowly leads you into the kitchen.

The news is playing on tv at a low volume, there’s a discarded blanket on the couch, and you quirk a brow in intrigue, “tetsu, how did you know I was awake?”

He shrugs, “my life shifts when you wake up for the day. I feel it in my soul.”

“Ew.”

“Shaddup.”

You laugh again, smiling a weak smile as you plop down at the table. He makes his way to begin cooking your bagel, popping it in the toaster before making his way to cut up your fruit. You sigh and play with your fingers, wondering if you should make conversation, or let silence rule, and you sigh shakily before opening your mouth to speak. “What’re you going to have?”

“I, my love, already ate some toast with some apple jelly and butter.”

“Oh.”

“But I’m going to pick at some fruit with you, because I don’t want you eating alone.”

“You don’t have to do that-“

“I know,” he hums. Then, he turns to face you with a smile. “I want to.”

Your heart flutters as you smile at him, looking down at your fingers to distract yourself. Usually, you’d be scrolling through your social media, checking apps and emails, but since he forbade it, you’re left to listen to him sing softly and the newscaster drone on and on. After a few short minutes, your bagel pops, and he plates it with some sliced fruit and places it in front of you, before kissing your head and grabbing various toppings for it.

Breakfast drags, but in a comforting way, where it drips by so slow like honey, syrupy sweet as Tetsuro talks. He talks about everything and anything, about the game Kenma's going to stream for charity, and the funny meme he sent the streamer- or funny to Tetsuro at least, as allegedly Kenma left him on read. You find yourself eating at his company, and before you know it, your bagel, juice, and fruit is gone. You look down at your plate in surprise, and he wiggles his brows at you, "feel better, angel?"

"Uhm... yeah," you say, almost confused. "I didn't think I was that hungry."

"I don't care how you thought, I'm glad you ate." He stands out of his chair with a stretch, "you still hungry? I can make you another-"

"No," you sigh. "I... I really should check my email-"

"Not until I give you a bath and a massage."

You quirk your brow, "you're going to give me a bath and a massage?"

"Of course," he chuckles, "If you're too anxious to give yourself some self care, that's plenty fine, but that means I'm going to give you self care." He shrugs, "those are just the rules."

"Do you even know how to give a massage?"

"Bokuto and I used to massage each other after practice all the time." Your brow quirks higher, and he holds his hand up, "don't ask. Just trust me."

"Can Bokuto give me a massage?" You tease, giggling at the way he gives you a fake smile and a high pitched "no," to tease you.

He presses a kiss to your head, "I'm going to go run the bath, why don't you get changed and meet me in there?"

"Okay," you hum. He nudges your nose with a finger before stalking down the hall to the bathroom. When your hear the tub running, you make a dash towards the small office room for your laptop, nervous to check your email, and-

"I took it out!" He calls, followed by a cackle.

"You're an ass!"

"It's your favorite ass, though!"

You grumble and make your way to the bedroom to get undressed per his request, stealing one of his oversized shirt to conceal yourself until the tub is filled. You stalk into the bathroom and blush under the way his eyes glaze up and down you, "fuck, I love you in my clothes."

"Back off, I'm about to bathe," you snort.

"Yeah, but I can still find you hot." As the tub fills, he adds a scoop of epsom salt, and a splash of bathing bubbles, large bubbles brewing on the surface of the water. You smile and watch them shape and form, the sweet smell filling the air around you. You feel excitement brewing inside of you as you watch him turn off the water and push himself up and off the floor with the edge of the tub, "should do it, baby. I'm gonna let you soak, I'll set up for a little massage after, make you nice and comfortable.

"Okay," you mewl. He presses a kiss to your lips and makes his way to the door. "Hey, Tetsu?" You say, reaching for his hand, which he takes happily. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, babygirl," he whispers. "You know that." He pinches your cheek and leaves the bathroom for you to relax.

The bath water is warm as you soak in the epsom salt, feeling your muscles loosen and relish in the combination. You bury your face in the bubbles and close your sleepy eyes, letting the smells lull you into a state of relaxation. Your head is still heavy with anxiety, but your heart is full of love and warmth for your boyfriend.

You're not sure how long you were floating in silence, lost in the bubbles and oils, but he gently knocks on the door, "you okay? Haven't heard you for a bit."

"Yes," you mewl, stretching. The water is now chilly and the bubbles are mostly gone and you rub your hands over the surface of the water. "Is the massage stuff ready?" You tease, looking at your hands and wincing at how pruny they are.

"It's been ready, I didn't want to bother you," he snickers. “Come out when you’re ready, just wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I’m alive, I’m coming,” you call, getting out of the tub to dry yourself. You take your time drying off, trying to enjoy the last little bit of warmth clinging to your skin. You leave the bathroom to get dressed into some clean pajamas, smiling as tetsuro busies himself with the whole massage set up. “Candles? You spoil me.”

“There’s a lot of smells going on,” he says with a face.

“I know I can tell,” you hum. Getting dressed, you slip on a pair of his boxers and a shirt, and you make your way to the bed to wait for him.

“Alright-“ he pats the bed for you to crawl on top of. “C’mere, let me pamper you.”

You giggle, “you have been pampering me!” Regardless, you swing your legs onto the bed and lay on your stomach, squeaking as he straddles you and cracks his knuckles.

He lays a massive paw on each of your shoulders, using his thumb to splay and press the muscle under his force, and your eyes cross in the middle and flutter in relaxation. They work in circles to press into the muscles, before laying flat on your back to dig his heel into before his fingers press and roll back up to your shoulders.

Thick fingers roll over the knot in your right shoulder, no doubt from the refreshing of the page for hours on end last night. You whine and bury your face in the bed, and he hums, "I know beautiful, I almost got it."

"Feels good," you murmur.

"Told you it would," he says softly. “You need to trust me.”

“I think I trust you too much,” you snicker. Tetsuro says nothing, merely offering you a laugh through his nose as he continues with the massage.

Your body twitches as the tips of his fingers dig into your side as part of the massage, but your snicker doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. “Something wrong?” He hums, doing it again.

"Tetsu!" You giggle, reaching behind you to try and stop his wrists, "that tickles!"

"That's crazy, I'm not tickling you," he snickers, and it's hard to tell if he's lying or not. "I mean, I can tickle you, if you want-"

"No!" You squeal, and your laughter turns choppy as he uses the sides of his hands to playfully chop up and down your back, making your body instinctively let out bumpy noises from your mouth.

“Quite an attitude on ya today,” he taunts, before hooking his fingers up under your arms, making you shriek, “okay, now I’m tickling you.”

Your mind spins from the sensory change, the signals in your brain cross, but one thing is for certain:

The email is far from the front of your mind.

And it feels good to laugh.

[mynameisbillandimaheadcase]

'

[inkedtae]

golden gills ⇾ jjk. [M]

𝓅���𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ goldfish!hybrid jungkook x bratty!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 ⇾ e2l, smut with a sprinkle of fluff and a waterfall of filth 

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ Reader taunts Jungkook for being the new Teacher’s Assistant for her history class. She simply can’t stand a teacher’s pet. Jungkook can’t help but make her one. 

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ a shit ton of flith, hate-love sex, office sex, super bratty reader, thigh riding, hair pulling, spit play, pube play, panty sniffing, a tad bit of edging, oral (f. receiving), dom!jk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lots of spanking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names, a dash of puns here and there, lowkey crack, probs gonna need some (un)holy water.

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ extremely unedited. please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission. currently on a kookie kick so get ready for some filthy (and occasionally fluffy) kookie content. if you have any request, please send them my way (i might consider another member). enjoy!

><> le playlist 

He strut into class, a little notebook clutched in his large hands. You couldn’t help but notice how his veins popped out. Was he flexing or was that just simply always the state of his hands. His sharp nails, tips tinged orange, dug into the leather binding of the notebook while he spoke with your professor. You glared at him from your seat at the front. He must’ve felt the heat of your gaze as he rubbed the nape of his, looking over at you. 

There, right there was the reason why you hate that man so much. That shit-eating smirk tugged on his pink lips, brownish-yellow eyes flickering between you and the professor. An annoyed sigh escaped you. He was too cocky for his own good. He may have radiated golden rays wherever he went. The yellowish-orange tint of his hair layered with strands of pink was undeniably eye-catching. You figured that if he was full fish and not just a hybrid, then that might be the colour of his scales. But, when that golden image was paired with his arrogant personality, you reminded yourself as your eyes bounced up and down his frame, he was insufferable.

Despite the golden hues of his species, Jungkook felt most comfortable in black. It was a trend you noticed immediately on him. His flowy, golden fin would stick out his shirt, lined along his spine, and tiny golden gills would rest in the hollows of his cheeks but he would only wear black. You hated how you knew that he only liked to wear loose fitted clothing because it looked great on him. It was all he wore so how could you not notice it, you tried to reason. That fact didn’t soothe your rage one bit, however, since it meant that you indirectly admitted to yourself that he always looked good. 

That man is dangerous, you thought to yourself before turning back to your notes. You didn’t have much to write just yet, but you weren’t going to waste your last moments before class staring at Jeon Jungkook. You opted for doodling, gently scratching your orange pen within the margins.

“How come whenever I walk in I always catch you staring?” He asked, sitting a couple of seats to your right. 

“Glaring,” you correct, not bothering to look up. 

He chuckles to himself, the breathy sound confusing your heart and stunting your rage for a minute. “You’re giving me your attention either way, hun,” he replied. “And I barely had to do a thing.”

You stopped mid-stroke, looking up at him with that same glare before your eyes scanned across the classroom. You noticed empty seats peppered between others who were lucky enough to enjoy some peace before the lesson began.  “There are other seats,” you muttered, turning back to your notebook. 

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, tossing his notebook down on the table with a light thud. “I like this one,” he sighed as he pulled out a black pen from his pants. “I can see everything from here, and everyone can see me.”

You furrowed your brows at his words. What a cocky little shit; always needing to be the center of attention. “You’re an idiot,” you hissed, making the mistake of looking up at him again. 

He met your annoyed gaze with a playful glint in his eyes. He had his tongue poking at his cheek, and a single brow raised as if asking if you truly meant that, as if warning you to try again. “Am I?” he challenged. “Or are you too busy concerned with me to realize how wrong that statement was?”

Your face scrunched with confusion as you tried your best to decipher his words.Why did he have to be so cryptic? Why couldn’t he just tell you what the hell he meant? Giving up, you were about to tell him how stupid he sounded when the professor began his lecture. 

He welcomed the class, introduced himself and went over the course syllabus before turning to look at Jungkook. “And, if you have any other questions, please feel free to contact me or my TA this semester, Jungkook.” He then gestured for Jungkook to stand. 

Fuck no. 

Your face fell as he rose from his seat. Before he could even catch a glimpse of your pure shock and devastation, you schooled your features and looked back towards your professor. It all began to click now, why he spoke with the professor before class and why he sat at the front. He even tried to warn you, in his own stupid, idiotic, cryptic way. Did you really insult your TA? He was going to be grading your work for the next four months. You wanted to believe Jungkook wasn’t a total asshole but with the way he taunted you with that look in his eyes before the lecture started gave you pause. 

Your face must’ve been revealing bits and pieces of your panic, despite your efforts, because you soon heard little breathy chuckles to your right. “Relax, hun. I won’t let it affect your final grade,” he whispered as the professor dived into his lecture. “This time.”

That little shit. 

You had written your essay two weeks prior to the due date, which is a lot coming from you since you’re more of a pull an all-nighter the night before kind of girl. You had researched thoroughly about the topic provided, giving your own analysis on the wars and political practises of the West. You even quoted Karl Marx a few times, and this little shit only just passed you? You had an average to maintain and you knew your paper was not merely worth a passing grade. You even had your best friend, Namjoon, read it over and approve of the analysis, citations and writing style. 

So the moment his office hours were available you made your way over. They were running during another one of your classes but fuck him if he thought you were going to let this slide. You weren’t sure what he was thinking but if this was all some power play, you were about to show him who the fuck was in charge. 

“Jeon, you motherfucker,” you huffed in a way of greeting as you walked into his office. 

Jungkook peeked up at you from his bowl, noodles hanging out of mouth. His eyes were a bit wider, cheeks puffed all too cutely as they were filled with food. He finished slurping his noodles as you shut the door. Though still completely furious, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop staring at his mouth. Something about those pouty, spice stained lips lit up your core and caused arousal to pool into your panties. 

You let out a shaky breath, seating yourself across his desk as he pushed his meal away, directing his full attention on you. He sat back in his seat, that stupid smirk over taking his features. 

“Yes?” He practically purred his response causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

You tossed your graded paper on his desk, eyes unforgivingly boring into his. “What the fuck is this?” You asked in a calmer voice, but the anger was still ponet in your tone. 

“You’re crappy paper I had the misfortune of reading,” he answered casually, like you just asked him about his day. 

The original fire in your eyes, you somehow were able to maintain since entering this office, dimmed into disappointment. Was it really that bad? But, you worked on it relentlessly. You had at least hoped it would pique his interest. Even Namjoon told you the approach you took was unique and well-thought out. For Jungkook to say it was a misfortune to read wasn’t just a shot at your grade but a blow to your intelligence, your pride. 

He must’ve noticed your change in demeanor as he sat up and sighed. He picked it up to look over it once again, but you ripped it out of his hand, crumpling it with, what you hated to recognize as, shame. “Don’t do me any favours, Jeon,” you all but warned through gritted teeth. “The grade speaks for itself. I can’t believe I thought someone as stupid as you would be able to understand something as layered and complex as this paper. The only thing crappy about any of this is the fact that I have a useless TA.”

Jungkook watched you with an unwavering gaze. “Watch your tone,” he grumbled, voice carrying more edge than those words ever did. 

You’ll admit, it stunted you for a moment, but the pain still lingered. You released the creased assignment on his desk lazily, treating it like the afterthought he believed it was. “Or what?” You taunted, tilting your head slightly. “You’ll fail me?” Your voice dipped in and out of feigned sadness, sarcasm dripping with every word. “You’ll go tell your precious professor? Hmm, little pet?”

Jungkook shifted in his seat, inhaling sharply from his nose before standing up. Even from across the desk, he towered over you. “Behave, (Y/N),” he warned, poking at his cheek with his tongue. 

His words meant nothing. You ignored the inner voice that reminded you that your behaviour was only getting this bad because his words actually meant more than you even wanted to acknowledge. 

“You’re just a useless pet, a stupid little goldfish trying so desperately to look tough in those all black clothes,” you pressed on, gesturing to his shirt that sat atop his chest and biceps all too well. He circled around the desk as you continued, “you can’t even get me to treat you with respect. Better yet, I bet you can’t even get me off. You’re that fucking useless.” 

How or why that sexual sentence slipped in was beyond you. You didn’t really have much time to think about anything, your mouth running on its own and leaving your mind to catch up. All you could see is him, him and those orange hues that lit around his muscular frame like a halo. You noticed him avoiding your gaze and you couldn’t help the teasing giggle that left your lips. 

A brow quirked up as he looked at you through his lashes. You only just realized that they were tipped with bits of gold. “There’s nothing you can do,” you said, standing up for the sole purpose of leaning in and whispering, “little pet.”

Those two words triggered something dark inside him. He groaned out, in frustration or excitement - you weren’t sure, and crashed his lips into yours. You wished you could say you resisted at first, but you were melting into his touch immediately. All logic left you and the only thing you can recall from that moment was another rush of lust and desire soaking your panties. You knew you lost your better judgement when you shamelessly moaned into the kiss at the fact that his lips tasted like freshwater and whatever flavour of spicy noodles he was previously eating.  

A rough hand tangled in your hair, tugging on it to pull you off his lips. You whined at the lost contact, surprising even yourself. You only caught a glimpse of his hooded eyes before he latched his lips onto your neck, setting fire to every inch of skin his mouth graced. Those eyes of his held a degree of rage and lusty fury all while little flicks of orange and gold swam within them. Had they always been like that? You never really got time to think about it before Jungkook bit at your flesh, unforgivingly nibbling and tugging only to slobber sweet kisses to soothe the sting. 

Your hands clutched onto his shirt, desperate to recompose even an ounce of your dignity. As if he knew what you were up to, his chuckled, warm breath fanning your skin, prickling you all over with goosebumps. Your thighs pressed together tightly at the sensation, and you were thankful you opted for a skirt rather than jeans this morning, knowing very well that there would’ve been a wet stain near your crotch. 

Jungkook inhaled deeply, parting from your neck to lick the shell of your ear. “You always smell so fucking sexy when you’re horny for me,” he raved. 

“I’m never horny for you,” your pride answered all too quickly. You wanted to add that he was mediocre at best right now, no matter how big of a lie that was too, but couldn’t find the courage after he bit harshly on your collar bone then lapped his tongue over the sting. 

“Don’t lie, pet,” he warned, smugly throwing your word back at you. 

“I’m not your pe- shit!” You gasped when his lips landed on the shallow hollow of your collar bone. You tugged on his shirt once more, tilting your head back as he began to attack it. His kisses were absolutely sinful and you found yourself wanting them all over you as you rolled your hips into his.

Once he was satisfied with the dark mark he left, he slightly pulled back. He opted for moving you around by the grip he had on your hair. It earned him little blissful whines from you that he couldn’t help but laugh at. He yanked your body closer to his chest, your hands now resting on his shoulders as you somehow positioned your crotch over one of his thighs and quickly, shamelessly moved against it. Your actions surprised you as well; you didn’t realize you were this hot for him.

“What were you saying before, my precious pet?” He teased, hovering his pouty lips over yours. His free hand rested upon your ass, gripping and kneading the flesh like he was coaxing the answer out of you. 

You bit your lip in denial of making a single sound. The notion wasn’t lost on him and he used his grip on your ass to halt your movements on his thigh. While you struggled to defy his silent orders, he held your body flush against his, keeping your clothed pussy trapped over his thigh with a single hand. You could feel his semi-hard against your lower belly as he smirked down at you. Had you not been in his grasp or too stubborn, you would’ve smacked that smirk off… with your lips. 

Jungkook yanked at your hair so that you were looking up at him with lips slightly parted and eyes undoubtedly desperate. That was the thing with your eyes; you could never hide your true feelings from them. 

His hot breath fanned over your chin as he muttered, “What happened to those cute little sounds, pet?” It took the last ounce of self control left in you to not to moan at his words. He continued to stare at you for a moment, admiring how, though you’re trying so hard not to show it, needy you were. 

“Open your mouth, baby,” he cooed. 

His voice was gentle enough for you to immediately comply. You parted your lips, looking up at him innocently. Though you knew what was coming next, your pussy clenching around nothing out of mere excitement, you did not pull away. In fact, you stuck your tongue out as he hovered his lips over yours and spat a stringy dollop of saliva into your mouth. It didn’t taste fishy at all, but simply, what you recognized as, him. You gazed into his eyes with lust-charged hate as you swallowed it without a second though. 

He smiled, satisfied, and released your hair to let his hand slide down to your other asscheeks, moving both hands under your skirt now. A little hiss left him as he felt your wetness reach the back of your panties too. “You really are this horny for me, aren’t you, baby?” He questioned as he guided your clothed pusssy against his thigh once more. 

“N-none of this is for you,” you stuttered. You tried to sound annoyed but the little moan in your tone hinted otherwise. 

He nudged his nose on yours, mannerisms shockingly softer than his grips on your ass. “Want another?” He raised a brow. 

When you remained silent, not wanting to admit that you most definitely wanted another wad of his spit in your mouth, he laughed. The corner of his wondrous eyes crinkled and he threw his head back, laughing at your silence. When his gaze met yours again, he bit his lip to subside the rest of his laughter, taking note of your furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

Jungkook seemed to like the challenges you were offering. He slightly tilted his head, eyes suddenly seeming unreadable. It wasn’t like you were paying much attention to his logic anyway, yours long gone by now. No, you were focused on the pleasure, the built up arousal twisting in your lower belly just desperate to be released. You knew your pussy wasn’t usually that sensitive, sometimes finding that you needed to tug on your skin to really get yourself off. But, holy fuck- 

“Jungkook!” You whined all too loudly as he flexed his thigh beneath you. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, tone reaching dangerously cocky levels. You loved it. 

Meek moans and whines poured out of your lips, like his name was the damn that held them back. Your grip on his shirt was sure to leave creases now, as you looked up at him, holding his gaze while you got yourself. You were passed pride now, ready to admit to yourself that you wanted to stare into those golden-brown eyes because, fuck, the simple sight was enough to make you cum.

Jungkook knew it. He knew you were close and squeezed your ass to let you know that. “Does my pretty pet wanna cum?” He lazily asked. The indifference in his tone was strangely enough to make you a slut for him; as if you weren’t already. 

You couldn’t give him the satisfaction, however. You were far too stubborn for that. Breaking your gaze, you threw your head back and shut your eyes. The pleasure was all you wanted to focus on as you got so fucking clo-

“No!” The cry tore from your throat, breaking as it fell from your lips. He took advantage of the grip he had on your ass once more, trapping your pussy on his flexed, muscular thigh. 

“Open,” he ordered.

You glared at him, sticking your tongue out with a huff. He spat another wad in your mouth, smacking your ass as you swallowed. The force jolted your body closer against his, now completely flush against his chest. Fuck, that chest. So strong and firm. You ran your hands up and down his pecs as he spoke. 

“You close your eyes again, and I’ll have you on your knees,” he threatened. You moaned at his words, earned a quirk of his brow. “Fuck, baby, you’re such a slut for me.” 

“When are you going to tell off that shirt?” You asked, the helplessness in your voice surprising you.

“When you ask nicely,” he teased, bringing his hand back down on your ass.

You leaned back just enough to tug on the hem of the loose shirt. He looked at you expectedly, actually believing you’d ask. A smirk found its way on your lips as your hands snuck beneath the cotton to rub up and down his skin. His breath hitched a bit at the contact, making you silently giggle to yourself. It was nice to know you weren’t the only one coming undone to soft touches. 

He kept your hips locked in place, but began to move his thigh under you. You gasped feeling the pleasure build itself back up in your lower belly. Digging your nails gently into his skin, you scratched at his nipples. It seemed you were both rewarding the other for a tease well done as he returned the blissful gesture by quickening the pace of his thigh. 

“J-Jungkook,” you whined, slowly bringing his shirt up higher and higher. His hands left your ass long enough for you to pull his shirt off and you took it as a sign to also be allowed to move again.

Giddy giggles left you as you got what you wanted and more, and you barely had to play nice at all. He was too consumed with getting you off to care, or so you thought. His hands came down on your ass with a force your pussy couldn’t ignore and you were sent into your first orgasm of the hour. 

Jungkook chuckled to himself, watching your jaw clench as high-pitched squeals escaped you and your pussy released all over his pants. The wet mess emitted filthy, slouchy sounds, further imprinting the fabric and filling the space between you two wonderfully. You held his gaze all the same, riding out your high as your nails dug into his pecs. He hissed at the sensation but did nothing to stop it. 

Your rapid rolls over his thigh stuttered against the friction, the pleasure starting to become too much for you. You halted your movement and quivered the last bits of our orgasm out. He peppered your face with little kisses all throughout, and you let him, whimpering for more. 

Jungkook pulled back at your sounds just to flash you a smug smile. He helped you off him, standing you up again. You bit your lip to keep from whining at the loss of contact. Though you did get your release, you were hoping for more. Your eyes, too obviously, flickered between his abs and the bulge in his pants. 

“If you want more, little pet, you’re going to have to strip for me,” he informed you. Jungkook held your fucked out gaze as he swiped a finger over the drenched spot of his pants to scoop up some of your release. You swallowed thickly at the action, watching as he sucked your cum off his finger. 

“You’re going to have to ask nicely,” you all but whine as his adam’s apple bobbed. 

His once playful teasing eyes seemed to be getting annoyed. The softness within them switched into something a bit darker. He was done with playing, and it only made you want to play with him even more. 

“I’m waitin- ah,” you gasped as he ripped the buttons off your thin, tight sweater off, exposing that yellow bra of yours that cupped your tits all too well. 

Jungkook towered his slender frame over you. “I don’t have to do anything,” he whispered, hovering his lips over yours. “Strip, little pet.”

You pulled your sweater off. A part of you wanted to reach up and just kiss him again. He was so close you could feel his breath against your parted lips. But, you knew better than to fully challenge that dangerous look in his eye. Your skirt was pushed down next, but you kept your panties on, slightly too embarrassed by the fact that they were sticking to your pussy. Reaching back behind you, you fumbled to unclasp your bra. Jungkook remained silent as he reached a single hand back there and undid it easily. 

You thought it must have regained his composure, the thought slightly pissing you off since you were becoming more and more of a mess by the second. But, the moment your bra fell, he attacked your breasts, burying his face between them. His lips latched onto one of your nipples, tonguing, biting, sucking away at it. One of his hands rested on your hip to keep you steady, while his other gripped at your other tit, massaging the fuck out of it. 

Your hands were lost somewhere in his orange-yellow hair, tugging at the long strands. You moaned his name repeatedly. Shameless and horny, you were loving his attention. “Oh, god, just fuck me,” you sighed. 

He hummed against your nipple. “In a minute, babe,” he muttered between alternating tits, now latching his lips onto your other nipple. 

From his slightly bent over position, you could see his fin lined along his spine. You wondered how it looked in the water, if it flowed within the waves like it did out of them. A hand reached over, gently grazing the ripped, but soft fin with the tips of your fingers. He shuddered against your touch, rolling his shoulders back but didn’t stop his tongue’s attack on your tits. 

You whimpered against him, lightly scratching his scalp with one hand and rubbed up his fin with the other. “Jungkook,” you breathed. You were desperate, needy and in total need of another orgasm. And that was what you kept telling yourself as you stuttered, “p-please, kookie.”

Jungkook froze, mid-suck and looked up at you slowly. “My, my,” he smirked, abandoning your tits and straightening up to his full height once again. Your hand on his fin slid up to his shoulder once more, an action that disappointed him too, his eyes flashing something too needy to be masked by his cocky demeanor. “Begging already, baby?”

You pressed your thighs together, granting yourself the smidgen of friction he was hell-bent on denying you. “That was barely a beg,” you scoffed. 

He shook his head at your words. “Shall we change that?” He lifted your hips before you could even respond and placed you on his desk. You were surprised he could lift you being that you were a grown ass woman and all. 

He spread your legs, groaning quietly to himself at the sight of your cum slick thighs and sticky panties clinging to your folds. Placing a hand to his forehead, he lowered his head and took a deep breath. 

You hated the sudden fear and panic of insecurity that shot through you. However, you couldn’t help but weakly ask, “s-something the matter?”

He nodded, meeting your gaze once more. “Yeah,” he sighed. You felt your heart drop, ready to close your legs when he continued, “those ruined panties haven’t come off yet.” A sigh of relief left you, your momentary panic bringing down all your walls with it as a blush tinted your cheeks. 

Jungkook must’ve liked that sight too because he was proudly smiling to himself. “Let me help you with that, little pet.” He dipped his head between your legs, lapping up the cum that stained your inner thighs too, not too bothered by the slight discolouration of them. 

Your legs were already trembling at the warmth of his mouth. He hooked his arms under both your legs, pulling your pussy closer to his face. Nudging his nose against your clothed clit, he inhaled your sinful scent. “God, this must be a fucking dream,” he muttered more to himself than to you in particular. “You smell even sexier when you fucking cum, babygirl.”

A whimper trickled out of your lips at his words as you gripped onto the edge of the desk. Little did you know that was merely the start of his filth. His mouth engulfed your clothed pussy in a single motion, licking and sucking the cum out of your panties. The hungry groans he made against your heat were boarderline pronographic. You were living for them, rolling your hips into his face relentlessly chasing after your next high. 

Jungkook tsked against your panties as if warning you to behave again, then sunk his teeth into them, catching a bit of your folds too. You cried out his name, your nails scratching at the dark wood beneath you. He watched you intently as he pulled those ruined panties off. You lifted your ass for him a bit and brought your legs together as he leaned back. 

He stood over you once they were off, the piece of clothing still locked in his jaw. Taking them out, he sniffed at them again. You pressed your thighs together once more, mesmerized by the sight before you. “Beautiful,” he rasped. Then he stuffed the wet, balled up panties in his pocket. “Mine now,” he explained, noticing the shock in your eyes. “Just like this pussy.” 

Grabbing your ankles, he pulled you closer to the edge of the desk and spread your legs apart once more. A little blush crept up his neck as the mess before him. He moaned to himself, getting on his knees. You never knew you needed to see a shirtless Jungkook on his knees before. He looked heavenly but his tongue was hellish, licking a clean strip up your folds. You threw your head back as he sucked on your clit. 

“Kookie,” you whimpered, having a lazy hand get lost in his hair again. You weren’t sure how or why you fell into that nickname, but you did and you weren’t planning on stopping. 

He hummed up at you, also accepting the nickname like you’ve been calling him that forever. His tongue swirled around your entrance, teasing - always fucking teasing you. He’d poke the tip of his tongue in only to watch you shudder and immediately clench your walls. His mouth traveled a bit higher halfway through another assault on your clit. 

“Can’t help it,” he muttered before licking at the short hairs a top your pussy. You blushed deeply at his actions. You had hoped he didn’t notice, but now seeing him practically lose himself over it, you felt a bit of pride swell in your chest. 

Jungkook bit at the flesh, tugging the hair with him as he pulled back. He spat on your pubes just to lick it up against the hair again. You gasped, looking down at his filthy actions with pure lust in your eyes. He repeated this action a couple of times, noting how excited it made you then returned to the wetness between your folds. 

“That really turned you on, huh baby?” He questioned watching as more of your wetness pooled out of your entrance. Diving right back in, he lapped up all the new arousal repeating the same flicks of his tongue over and over again. You couldn’t really grasp what the pattern was at first, but then it hit you all at once, forcing you to cry out in approval. He was licking his name against your entrance in Korean and English, poking his tongue into you with the dots of his js. 

“M-marking your territory?” you questioned, trying to sound as confident and composed as he did but your moans kept getting in the way. 

“I’d be drowning in it too if I wasn’t part fish,” he chuckled, fanning his warm breath against you. “Why don’t you prove me wrong, little pet?” His tone hinted that it was more of a suggestion rather than a challenge. “Cum for me.”

You were up for it either way, rolling your hips into his face. Nothing felt as sexy as when the little gills in the hollows of his cheeks brushed up against your inner thighs, slightly quivering at the contact. That unexpected sensation and the way Jungkook began to devour your pussy was enough to shock you into your second orgasm. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” you cried out, moans tumbling out of you endlessly. Your eyes rolled back, head falling back with them as you quivered against his face. “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you squealed as you rode your release to the end. 

Jungkook flattened his tongue, letting you get yourself off on him. Once he was sure you finished spasming on his tongue, noting how your thighs started to squeeze his face as they came together, he flicked his tongue back into action. He lapped up your cum, swallowing every ounce of what you’d given him. 

Sensitive and gasping for air, you attempted to weakly push his face off of you. It was an impossible task. He was too strong and too consumed with the task at hand, slurping your juices, unfazed and unbothered. 

“Kookie… I… fuck,” you squealed, closing your legs around his face. He was practically suffocating against your pussy as he drank you up.

He suddenly, and very easily, pushed your legs apart as if you hadn’t just been using all your strength to close them. He got up, face glistening with a mixture of his saliva and your cum. He looked like a fucking goldfish god with his hair all tossel from your grip and face all smeared of your cunt. You wanted to clean it all up for him, but he wouldn’t give you a chance yet. 

His thumbs slid into his waistband about to push his pants down when he caught a glimpse of you. You were looking all fucked out, trembling from the remnants of your last orgasm, legs curled up into your chest. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he whispered, all hints of playfulness and teasing threats gone from his tone. He almost sounded sincere, almost sounded like he actually meant all those things he said, like it wasn’t all just words thrown in the heat of the moment. 

You were panting quietly, not exactly sure what to say to that. You felt like you were saved by the exposure of his cock (on many levels) and pushed all thoughts away until you were back to your normal, rational state of mind. 

His cock was huge, veiny, and leaking precum, desperate for some contact. You shakily slid off the desk, fully prepared to get on your knees for him and give his heavenly cock the attention it deserved. But Jungkook tsked at you, nodding his head back to the desk. 

“Back on the desk, babygirl,” he grunted as he began to pump himself using the precum collected on his pink tip. 

You leaned against the edge of the desk for some stability, swallowing thickly at the sight of his veiny hand around his veiny cock. Licking your lips, you met his gaze shyly as if silently asking him to reconsider. 

Jungkook smirked, slightly buckling his hips into his hand. He gave himself a couple more pumps then set his hands on your hips to lift you back up on the desk again. “Be a good girl and I might consider letting you wrap that pretty mouth of yours around my cock next time,” he promised with a smile all too sweet for you to challenge. 

“Next time?” You meekly questioned. 

He positioned himself between your legs, that giddy smile still etched on his lips. He slapped his cock against your wet pussy a couple of times, making you whimper his name, before replying, “just behave, little pet, and you can have my cock down your throat anytime you want.” He then, without much further warning, sunk his cock into your entrance, hissing at the tightness. 

“J-Jungkook,” you sighed, only now just realizing how fucking badly you really needed him to fill you up. Tears pricked your eyes at the pure blissful sensation of his cock stretching you out so fucking good. 

Noticing your tears, he halted all movement. “Am I hurting you?” He asked, concern laced in his tone.

You shook your head immediately, all but begging, “keep going, please. Fuck, please kookie.” 

He let out a sigh of relief and continued to sink into you until he bottomed out. You gasped, holding his gaze while your nails dug into his shoulders. He flashed you a golden smile before pulling out and ramming back into you at a sinful pace. 

 “S-so b-ig,” you choked out between harsh thrusts. 

His face was contoured with pleasure, nose scrunched and brows furrowed in too cute of a way that you would’ve never even guessed he liked it this rough. “Ah-yah,” he gasped, overtaken by the clench of your cunt’s walls. “Tightest cunt I’ve had.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He complied with little complaints and you leaned your forehead against his. Noses brushing, breath exchanging, Jungkook fucked you into the desk with such force, he jolted it back a bit with each thrust. You tilted your head enough to kiss his gills and whine against them. A smile graced his lips at the contact and he tightened his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. You peppered each gill with kitten licks, then soft kisses despite how rough he was fucking you. 

Your arms moved around his back, practically hugging him. Shaky hands found his fin again and tightly gripped onto it. He buried his face in your hair, evading his senses with the floral scent of your hair, and groaned out little praises in your ear. You bit at his shoulder, subsiding your moans into his skin. You knew you weren’t exactly behaving, leaving little marks on his shoulder, but you also knew Jungkook was too engrossed with how your cunt gripped on his cock to care too much. 

All rough kisses and bites  on his shoulder came to a crashing halt, however, when he hit that spot deep within you. “Jungkook!” You shreeched, throwing your head back. He hit it again and again. Each time he hit it harder and rougher, coaxing you closer and closer to your release. 

You rested your forehead against his again, wanting to stare into his eyes when you came all over his cock this time. “There, there,” you encouraged, moving your hips up to meet his. The entire room returned the quick slaps of skin on skin in faint echoes, reminding you just how filthy this was. 

“Your close, aren’t you, little pet?” Jungkook asked as your cunt tightened around him. “Wanna cum, babygirl?”

You nodded your head eagerly, toes curling as that knot in your lower abdomen twisted in ways you weren’t completely familiar with. 

“Beg.”

“W-what?”

He chuckled and smacked your ass. You gasped, gawking at him in disbelief. “Beg.” he ordered. “I won’t repeat myself again.”

You squealed in frustration. “P-please Jungkook,” you started. “Your cock is so big… just wanna cum all over it. I- ah, I need to cum. Please, just please let me cum, kookie. Please!” 

“Cream on this cock, babygirl,” he growled in approval. 

You unraveled all you had to give him, cumming on his cock as he continued to ram into you in an unforgiving pace. You held his gaze all the while, shrieking moans and trembling whines escaping you. Your eyes slightly rolled back, mouth hung open as you tried your best to maintain eye contact. 

“Ah, fuck! You- you’re so fucking sexy when you cum, baby.” He gasped, thrusts getting sloppier. 

Though you were being overstimulated once again and felt the blissful burning of your after-high start to creep up on you, you still talked Jungkook into his orgasm. “Please fill me up, kookie,” you started, but never really got to finish as that was all it took for him to release ropes of white within you. 

You ground your hips into his as he buried himself deep in you. His brows knitted together, eyes just as needy as yours, cumming deep inside you. You knew he was cumming a lot just from how full you felt, but his cock was so huge, fitting your cunt just right, that it plugged all his cum in you, no remove for leaks. 

You circled your hips into his as he gasped for air, panting his hot breath over your face. “You’re so handsome when you cum,” you whispered, filter completely gone by now. 

Jungkook huffed a little smirk. He nudged his nose against yours before placing a gentle kiss against your lips. It was all over, the heat of the moment, the need for a release. Still, you kissed him back like it was a normal pastime. His tongue played with yours and you let him. It was like you two already had a routine of rough sex and intimate aftercare. And, shockingly enough, you didn’t find that off-putting at all. In fact, you realized you could actually get used to this, used to him like this. 

He pulled away, gasping once again. You joined him this time, slowly untangling yourself from him. You hadn’t even felt him soften inside you, practically just as big as when he was hard. You both gazed down at his cock, watching as he pulled it out to find it coated in a mixture of your cum, completely creamed. The cum plugged within your cunt came pouring out in thick glopes all over your graded paper. 

“Shit,” you whispered, watching your paper being ruined. “Now, that’s never going to the professor,” you huffed, looking up at him again. 

He bit his lip and scratched the back of his neck. “About that,” he began. “That’s actually not your real grade.”

A mixture of confusion and rage clouded your once sex-blown gaze. “What?”

“I may have given you another copy of your paper with a crappy grade just to get under your skin,” he confessed. He rested his hands on your thighs, rubbing them gently as if trying to calm you down. 

It worked. 

You raised a brow up at him. “Were you trying to get me naked?” 

Jungkook blushed, softly chuckling. “That was just as wonderful a surprise to me as it was to you.”

You held his gaze for a moment, finding comfort in the silence and his cute smile. “It was wonderful,” you muttered. 

“No one has touched my fin or gills like that,” he suddenly said, a blush tinting the tips of his ears. 

“Like this?” You asked as you leaned in to stroke his fin and kiss his gills once more. 

His hands found their place on your bruised hips and he hummed, “mhm,” before peppering your neck with sloppy kisses again. “Now get that pretty ass of yours off my desk.” He lifted you up only for you to wrap your legs around his waist. He laughed at your childish antics, holding you up by a newfound grip on your ass. “Come on, (Y/N),” he chuckled. 

You pulled back only a bit with a pouty smile playing on your lips. “Make me,” you whined. 

Jungkook smirked. “As you wish, little pet.”

[housamo-side-blog-2]

Red Eyes part 2

Okay, im starting to love this Au, 

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it is nightime in the dormitory of Shinjuku.. 

The bright crescent moon shines its luminescent  like shine on the entirety of Tokyo, A small bench is layed in the center of the dormitory, Where a young chubby student is sitting,staring at they’re intertwined fingers as they sang a harmonious melody, They sing as if they’re releasing something deep, something of a sharp feeling, that they began to tear up as they sang to what appears to be a high note of the song, Swaying from left to right, in full throttle,not knowing they’re familiar voice is going to be heard by the other sleeping students.

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And they woke someone up...

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{Door opens} 

.A Orange haired student, waiks towards the hallway to investigate, who is singing such an harmonious tone, There they spot they’re  two closest classmates as they watch from above, as the singing fluffy haired sang to their heart’s content.. They listen to their tone, their voice and the way they sing, they are now completely immersed into listening them sing now, as the redhead starts to suggest something. 

Ryota: Shiro, should we,?

Shiro: Just a few more minutes.. 

Kengo: Im recording them, 

Moritaka: Comrades?,

Everyone: Shhh...

Moritaka: Oh, apologies, Looks like we’re all awoken due to Harumo’s singing.

Ryota: Yeah, but, i didn’t even know they sing so good..

Kengo: im gonna show this to Harumo,at the guild. 

Shiro: Save me a copy. 

Kengo: What?

They continue to listen to their  musical and tuneful voice, not knowing that a tall figure is slowly approaching the quiet four, 

Mr Mononobe: Why are you all out of your rooms? 

Everyone: Ahhh!..

Harumo: Huh?..

Shiro: Mr Mononobe?, I..i..

Mr Mononobe: No need Shiro, first time hearing Harumo sing is like one of a million chances, 

Harumo: Were you guys there this entire time?!..

Ryota: We’re sorry Harumo, it was just really good, 

Kengo: And i got all on video!.

Harumo: You recorded me?!

Kengo: What?!, Its good content! 

Shiro: Im really sorry Harumo, i didn’t mean to, i just..

Moritaka: Most humblest apologies friend, i was so drawn to your singing that i lost focus. 

Harumo: ahhh...this is so embarassing! 

Ryota: But, you sound really great when you were singing!    

Harumo:Ahhhhhhhhhhhh...

Mr Mononobe: Alright everyone go back to your rooms, You know you have a test tomorrow. 

Ryota: A T-TEST?!...

Shiro: Yes Ryota, why’d you think we held those study sessions. 

Ryota: Oh,,y-yeah, i know that!,hehehe! 

Moritaka: Lets do our absolute best tomorrow, Ryota, 

Ryota: {In not going to be able to sleep tonight}

Kengo: Hey partner!, Good singing back there! 

Harumo: Ahhhhhh....

Moritaka: There’s nothing to be ashamed off Harumo, you sang beautifly, I never heard such a meliodic tune before! 

Ryota: When did you learn how to sing like that?..

Harumo: Uhhh..From Gabriel? 

Shiro: That explains the trips then..

Without further discussion, the stunned students, all went back to their dorms and went to sleep...

..

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{Harumo’s dorm} 

Lights off, only the torquoise ray of the moon luminates a small portion of your room, You appear to be having a nightmare you brows go lower, your eyes squinting at something that isn’t needed to be focused on.

{Harumo”s Dream}

Harumo: W-Where am i?!...Why is it hot in here?!, This is a dream!

Unknown creature: {Breathes fire}

Harumo: Ahh!,,what the?!,,,what the heck is that! 

An Unknowing creature that almost the same height as Shinjuku Academy, stands before you, With its wine like scales, its tin like claws buried in the ground of dream state, Spine chilling as it looks directly into your eyes with its scarlet glare, almost as if its peering straight to your soul.      

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Unknown creature1: ......Harumo.....

Harumo: It knows my name?!, Who are you?!...and what are you doing in my dream!?

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.

Unknown creature: ..I AM A DRAGON...

Harumo:A dragon?,,Then, why are you attacking me!?

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No response from your interrogation, the dragon like creature stands there, with its intimidating stature as well as its aura like glow, looming around it, But thats not all, 

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 .

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Harumo: Another one?,,,what the?!,,,

Out the blue, you are surronded by 5 dragon like creatures, each with their own distinctive features, the creature to your left is a turqiouse like its from the ocean, to your right, you see a moss green with what appears to be two vine like tentacles etched at the top of their head,  

To your south-east stands  A lavender colored with its shiny scales, To your south-west stands, An earthly colored dragon, as you can tell from its boulder like skin, 

Harumo: Wha?!,,,who are you all?, why is there,,,, 5 dragons around me? 

Confuse as you are shift your gase to each and every dragon that intimidates you,As they all radiate a glow that matches their features, you can’t tell what they are, as they stare down on you,confuse and worried,for you can’t summon your sword to defend yourself, .

.Suddenly.

,.

{ROAR!}      

 Harumo: Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!

Harumo: {Gasp} 

{Alarm clock ringing} 

You’ve awoken from your nightmarish like dream, for as look at your window, Rays of sunlight pierced your awoken eyes, you check the time, to see its early in the morning, which is unordinary, 

Harumo: What was that?....Those...dragons..

{Salomon appears} 

Lil Salomon: Good Morning Master!, Whaaaa!

Harumo: Whoah!, is something wrong?

Lil Salomon: Master, your..eyes..

.

.

Harumo: {Gasp in surprise} 

You stared at the mirror for a while to process, a sudden change..

Harumo: What happened to my eyes?..    

Sunflower colored eyes, shines dimly in your eyelids as it started to glow more like a rising sun, you panic and stumble to your wooden floor in distress,

Lil Salomon: Master.!

Harumo: Hah...hah...what happened Lil Salomon?, 

Lil Salomon: Harumo, calm down for a sec, breath slowly, 

Following your faithful buttler’s suggestion you slowly inhale and exhaled your anxiety and distress away, and it worked, 

Harumo: {Inhale.....Exhale} 

Lil Salomon: Thats it Master, slowly...

Harumo: .....Okay..im calm..

Lil Salomon: Master look!, your eyes!,,,they’ve changed back!

From Yellow to change back to your usual grey colored eyes, you breath in relief for as you thought something changed in you,for what could be the reason of the sudden change in the color of your eyes?. 

The question looms on your mind, but you seem to forgot something much more important, 

Harumo: Crap!, the test is this time!, 

Lil Salomon: But master!, what about your-

Harumo: We’’ll taik about that later!, I have a test to go to! 

Rushing back and forth your room, to get yourself ready to attend another hopefully ordinary day in Shinjuku Academy,

.

.

[Shinjuku Academy} 

Harumo: Hah,,,hah,,,,hah,,i made it! 

Ryota: Guys, its Harumo!, Hi Harumo! 

Harumo: Hey guys!, looks like i made it in time! 

Shiro: Its good that you’re not late this time. 

Kengo:....   

Harumo: Did all of you study?

Shiro: Hahah, no need to ask me that question.

Ryota: A little bit.

Shiro: What?, but we held a study session in the guild yesterday!

Ryota: Hehehe, it kinda slipped my mind?

Moritaka: I studied everything the exam has in store for me, so im fully confident in my knowledge.

Toji:*Nods*

Kengo: i suddenly have a bad feelin today.

Shiro: Oh?.

Kengo: Hey Harumo!, Did something happened to you? 

Harumo: Huh?

Shiro: Whats wrong Kengo? 

Kengo: Or is it just my imagination? 

Harumo:{Does Kengo know about my eyes?}

.

.

Mr Mononobe: All right!, Students go back to your seats and prepare a pencil,pen,and eraser, 

Shiro: Everyone Stand!, Bow! 

Everyone Good Morning Mr Mononobe! 

Mr Mononobe: Okay, sit down, this is your second semester examination, And i trust you all not to cheat!, understand?!

.

Mr Mononobe: All right, you can begin!.

.Ryota: Goodluck on the test Everyone!

.

  .

.????: HEY WHOEVER HARUMO IS, COME OUT! 

Everyone hearing the angry request, they look towards the window to look upon a large muscular figure along with 5 canine therians behind them as if they’re bodyguards. 

Harumo: Who are they? 

Mr Mononobe: Now class, stay put!, im going to check what it is. 

???:HEY HARUMO YOU BETTER COME OUT! OR MY BOYS WILL YOU! 

Harumo: Who are you?! 

???: Oh..so you’re Harumo!.. Come down here!, i want to have a nice clean chat with you! 

Kengo: This asshole needs a total beating if he knows whats coming for him! 

Moritaka: How dare they act so impudently infront of our school! 

.

.

Mr Mononobe, acting as the guardian of the student requested, confronts the unknown figure with his bodyguards, 

Mr Mononobe: Now ,now, may i ask who are you?, what businness do you have with one of my students? 

???: Hey old man!, How about you bring me your student Harumo here, They have a lot of nerve messing with my boys yesterday, and i can’t sit still about the way they were treated. 

Mr Mononobe: .....Im not going give Harumo...

???: Well then....

Mr Mononobe:Oof! 

Everyone; Mr Mononobe! 

Harumo: DAD!.....GRRRRRRR!! 

 .

Shiro: Harumo?....

Squeesing the window frame, you failed to notice a sudden change in your eyes, 

Ryota: Harumo your eyes are turning red! 

Harumo: HOW DARE YOU!!

???: Now!,Come out! 

{Opens the app} 

Harumo: Grrraaa!!!

Shiro: Harumo let us help! 

Ryota: You don’t have to do this alone! 

Blinded by your own fury, you redered the ties of gavity and flew towards the group who hurted your father like guardian, 

Harumo::HOW.DARE.YOU HURT MY FATHER!!!!!

Mr Mononobe: Harumo?...

???: Lets teach this punk a lesson! Get him boys! 

Harumo: OUT OF MY WAY! 

Armed with claws, the canine therians, gracefully cut, bruised you piece by piece as your uniform gets ripped bit by bit, revealing your chubby body piece by piece, but they don’t realised, ...

.

.

It was a huge mistake..

Canine therian1: What the hell is that skin made of!? 

Canine therian 2:It feels as if we’re hitting rocks !

From the onlookers, especially the summoners, they stare in confusion as they haven’t seen this side of their loving guildmaster, While the other students stare blankly aas they are both amased or shock to see the transfer student fight against 6 against 1. 

Now back to the fight, 

???: What are you all doing!?, go one and kill that bastard! 

Canine Therian 1 :But boss!, something is weird about this kid,We can’t cut them! 

Canine therian3:They have two swords!, and...what are they doing? 

Shiro: *Gasp* No! don’t’ Harumo! don’t use the Double Dragon on them!            Kengo: Harumo!,Harumo don’t use it, they’re worth it! 

Banging on the green dome enclosing everyone inside, the muscular students pleas go to occupied ears, as they are full of rage, as seen by the wine red color change of their eyes.

Harumo: Salomon!, 

Lil Salomon: Master!,this tecnique is not worth using on them!,Reconsider your decision! 

Harumo: They hurt my dad..so punishment is needed! 

Lil Salomon: I know, ive seen it, but look!, Father is okay now! you don’t have to use the Double Dragon technique on them, it will kill them for sure! 

Harumo: No one can die inside the battle area. I’ll make them remember this pain!

Boss: Pst, what, is that a secret move your doing?, Then go one,give me your best shot! 

Kengo: You moron!, you have no idea what that move is!, it could literally destroy a meteor! You’re only digging your own graves!   

Mr Mononobe: HARUMO!! 

Harumo: *Gasp in surprise* 

Waiking from behind, Mr Mononobe approaches you calmly as you are about to unleash the one technique that could destroy even the mightiest of foes.

Mr Mononobe: ....Don’t become a monster....

Harumo:.....

Bated breath and a silent stare, for you forget that you are in a midst of a battle, taking advantage of the confrontation, 

Harumo: Oof!

Mr Mononobe: Harumo! 

Kengo: Hey thats cheating! 

Boss: Ooh, did i disturb something!,

Harumo: *sigh* 

.

“Dragonborn”

 Harumo: This voice...! 

 Mr Mononobe: Harumo!..Ahhh!!

Boss: Don’t butt in old man.. 

Harumo: Mr Mononobe?.

Boss: Hahaha,,this,, all i have to do?...This is pathetic

Harumo: Crap!

Sacred artifact Hammer in the hands of the figure looking down on you, Prepares to drop their hammer the same width of their muscular figure, on you, as if their about to execute someone’s head off, and 

..

Mr Mononobe: ..Hey punk..

Boss:....

Harumo and Kengo: Mr Mononobe? 

Boss: You’re next so--

Like the sound of a wet towel amplified about 5 times,the painful sound can be heard from the second floor where the other students gase upon from,  your finisher, launched towards the side, due the massive power coming from the loving Mr Mononobe’s punches.. 

Harumo and Kengo: Ah....ah.....       

Boss’s henchmen: B-Boss?....Holy crap he’s knocked down cold! 

The onlooking students can only leave their mouths open for flies to come in and out, as they have witness a teacher, turned into a heavyweight boxer, The Summoners stood in disbelief as they have witness a teacher’s capability in protecting their precious students...

Mr:Harumo..Are you okay? 

Harumo: I think he’s not okay..

Lil Salomon: I didn’t even know Father can throw a punch like that!..

Mr Mononobe: Us teachers should know how to fight,if we want to protect our precious students.

Kengo: Holy smokes!.....Harumo you okay? 

 Harumo: Y-yeah, im okay, though im healed now, so don’t worry. 

 Boss’s Henchmen: Hurry lets get the boss outta here! 

Mr Mononobe: I let this slide for once, But if you all dare to come after to one of my students...Then expect it to be 10x more harder.

Boss’s henchmen: Nnngg,,,,We will never bother you all again sir!

With their boss in tow, they scidaddled out of sight,, 

Kengo: Don’t ever comeback here assholes!

Mr Mononobe: I’ll forgive your word for now Takabushi,,For now, lets head back to class now, You still have that exam. 

Harumo: R-Right...

Mr Mononobe: You..refer me as...your dad?  

Harumo: Crap!,,you heard that! 

Mr Mononobe: Hahaha!, how about it..son..

Harumo:*gasp*.....Yes Dad!

[lovestraykldz]

icstay | chanlix

summary: it's another fall without him, and felix can't help but continue the habits he's started since the last day with chan. cw: implications of death                      i can’t stop thinking about you ,, rain taps the windows of the cafe as the door opens every so often; customers ordering, drinking, and leaving. the leaves resting on the cement outside become soaked and more fall from the rain pulling them. autumn’s crisp air visits the cafe with each customer, the place staying warm for only a few moments at a time. another fall without him. it doesn’t surprise me that more people walk in once school hours end. the shop is pretty well known around seoul as the menu doesn’t have much of a limit to it. he actually introduced me here our first year of high school. i take a sip of my earl grey tea and finish my coffee cake. outside, a high schooler says something to his friends and drops down to tie his shoe. he stands up and rushes to catch up to them, walking into the cafe seconds later. their group adds to the noise already bustling in the evening rush. i overhear one of them talk about visiting a pc room after they order and they’re all in. “i’m sorry. i can’t.” the others pester him as to why and he says, “my brother just got back home and he said he’s cooking tonight. i’ll go tomorrow.” his friends mutter okays and wave him goodbye as he goes home to his brother. my phone buzzes on the table and i almost feel something. hey, i just came back from uni. do you want to go out for a meal? my treat! i reply with an enthusiastic sure and turn off my phone when he says to meet him outside my complex at 18:00. after an hour or so, the cafe calms and my sister comes over from behind the counter. “hey,” she smiles lightly. i look to her as she sits in the seat beside me. nothing is said for a few moments until she sighs. “i have a date tonight, so,” she pauses, bites her lip carefully and continues. “i won’t be home until late. you don’t have to stay up.” i nod and take the last sip of my earl gray tea, taking it to the kitchen behind the counter. she follows me and asks if i’m mad. i shake my head. “why would i be mad?” the kitchen door opens and her coworker kihyun puts his things away as his shift is finished for the day. he leaves us afterwards and we’re in an awkward silence. “because it’s the fall..” she trails off and i can’t help but make a remark. “it being fall doesn’t mean anything. you find someone when you find them and you don’t let them go until you know. don’t make the same mistake i did.” the air stills and she looks at the floor like it’s the one she’s having a conversation with. i wash the mug and plate and leave them on the rack to dry. i look at the clock and it strikes a quarter to 18:00. “i have to go. have fun on your date. see you tomorrow,” i say and dry my hands, making my way home to change into something a bit more fitting for the occasion. i turn my phone on right before i walk into my apartment and jisung texts me a second later as i’d timed it. i’m downstairs! :) i reply an okay and slip on a pair of jeans, a white tee, my converse, and his hoodie. when i reach the front door of the building, i see jisung whistling and looking around. he sees me walk out and waves with a smile. “hey! how’ve you been?” he asks. i tell him the truth: okay. he nods and smiles as if okay was something spectacular to be. i ask him the same and says he finally got his own apartment and he’s going to adopt a puppy soon. he goes on about his future dog as we make our way to the restaurant. upon entering, the waitress at the front desk asks us how many and jisung answers a table for two. we’re seated after minute and given our menus. “your waiter will be with you soon,” she smiles and walks back to the front. i take out my phone and turn it off, setting it on the table beside my chopsticks. jisung notices and asks. something clicks and i ask myself like the protagonist in a drama, why’d i turn my phone off? “habit,” i answer simply and he nods, almost taking note of it. i stand by my action and keep my phone off but still ask myself why i’d turned it off. “felix,” he calls my name softly. i look up from my menu. “what’re you going to get?” he asks, tilting his head to the waiter waiting for me to place my order. “can i get pork belly and stir-fried rice cake,” i order and jisung follows with his and the waiter takes our menus, saying our orders will be up soon. he looks over at me with a slightly shock and confusion in his eyes. “you like pork belly?” he asks. i nod, asking myself why i ordered pork belly if i was already planning on eating stir-fried rice cake. do i even like pork belly? jisung seems to take note of this too, and he puts it aside bringing up how uni’s going. “it’s good,” i lie. i haven’t gone to classes since two weeks ago. my professors have emailed me saying if i don’t show up next week, they’ll either drop or fail me for the semester. i can’t tell him, though. he’s the only one treating me like i’m not broken and the moment he hears this i know he’ll try fixing it. he sighs, dropping his head and says my name as if i’m a child in trouble by his father. “have you even gone to your classes?” he asks, his eyes are now closed. i hum a yes and he looks up, a bit angered. “felix. please,” his expression goes soft. “tell me the truth. how’s uni? how are you?” he breathes carefully as if his breathing will push his questions to push me off the cliff. suddenly, finally, i feel something. i don’t know what to say. i want to say that uni sucks; that i’m not doing so well; that it’s getting harder to get out of bed again; that i can’t stop ordering the food he ordered on our dates; that i can’t stop turning off my stupid phone becasue without him i have no one i need to text; that all i can smell is his damn cologne; and that all i want to see his stupid face one last time. but all i can do, is cry. i don’t make a sound, and nothing falls, but the tears form heavily. he sees our waiter with the food and asks if we can get it to go. the waiter nods and goes back to place everything in containers. when he comes back with our take-out, jisung pays quickly and we leave. once we reach my apartment, he starts opening the bags. “do you want to watch a movie?” he asks. i agree and put on howl’s moving castle, hiring the volume enough so we can watch it from the kitchen table. once the movie finishes, we get up and i start clearing the table and sink for the night. “hey, jisung,” i mumble. he hums softly in response. i put the dishes down and let the water run as i ask, “how’d you get over minho?” i look over and he has his head down, maybe thinking. he looks up and smiles lightly, “i didn’t. sometimes, you just learn to live with the memories they leave behind. it took me a while to start smiling again,” he pauses and looks down again. “the last year of high school and starting uni weren’t the best. i couldn’t get up; i didn’t want to. all i wore for months was his cardigan he left behind.” jisung sighs and leans against the couch, still smiling softly. “i’d even check my phone a lot; i thought he’d text me or something. don’t even get me started on the pictures,” he chuckles. i let my head down and think, so, i’m never getting over him ,,? “thing is,” jisung continues. “it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. i know i didn’t lose him like you lost chan. can’t imagine what it’s like.. i’m sorry.” i shake my head, “it’s not your fault.” “it’s not your fault either,” he sighs, standing up. “i should go. it’s getting pretty late. i’ll text you. keep your phone on tomorrow?” i nod with a faint smile and he smiles back, waving and leaving to his place. i’m alone in my apartment for a couple more hours till my sister gets back, so i decide talk as if he’s still here. “hey, chan,” i try to smile. this is stupid.. but it’s all i have. “i hope you made it to the happy place you always told me about.” tears start bubbling up. “i miss you, a lot. i still wear the hoodie you gave me for my birthday. it’s still really soft,” i chuckle lightly. “i hope you’re not mad that i’m using your cologne on the hoodie.” there it is: the first tear i’ve let fall since that day. “i miss you so much, chan. fuck!” i let out, going to the ground. “how can i forget you?! i can’t stop fucking thinking about you!” i try to breathe, and let out one more cry. “i can’t stop thinking about you..”                                                  ☽ !disclaimer!: i wrote this without knowing if chan is passed or not, so i myself am not sure what the situation is.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Random Drabble that came tonight as I finally finish up season 2 of BNHA...

-0-

“Work together to beat me you two-“ All Might began but he was interrupted.

“I’ll take the automatic fail.”

Silence struck the group. Everyone stared at Izuku, who looked terrified but also determined.

“What?” Aizawa-Sensei asked.

“I’ll take the automatic fail. Call me petty or mean or rude but I absolutely refuse to work with the kid who bullied me for most of my school career, who vocally hates me and who is honestly a selfish prick.” Izuku said even more bluntly.

“Fucking DEKU- shut the hell up!” Bakugou snapped but Izuku ignored it.

“I will take the fail. This is a school environment not an actual battle in which I wouldn’t have a choice Sensei. It is not my job to try and get along with him. I do not confront him. I do not provoke him. I ignore him.” Izuku said, continuing to stare straight at his teacher. “If this is because you think we should get along- then do not dare put my grade on the line. I will take the fail and I will do it with a smile because I refuse to be put into a position I am afraid for my life. I cannot trust him not to attack me after our battle trial where he was willing to ignore orders from All Might to not use his gauntlets which could kill me.” The Sensei all traded looks in front of them and Izuku nearly faltered but he instead swallowed and pushed forward. “It is not my job to make him be able to work with others. It is your job. I am not a tool for you to use to further his schooling. Act like adults and do it yourselves.” The entire group of adults stared. No one spoke, not until a voice snarled.

“Fucking faker- you’re a liar!” Bakugou snarled, moving and grabbing him, hands heating up. “I don’t have the problem- you-“

“You just fucking grabbed me!” Izuku snapped, fed up. Maybe he was just tired for days of studying. Maybe he was just tired because of Hosu. Maybe he was sick of people assuming he’d be meek and let things happen.

Or maybe he was just done with Bakugou in general.

“You grabbed me and I can feel your Quirk! Of course you’ve never had a problem with using it on me- I was your fucking punching bag as kids! What was it you said to my face? Take a swan dive? I’d be safer with a fucking villain then you!”

“What?!” Ochako said loudly, but the two weren’t listening.

“You should have fucking done it! Spare us your worthless ass-“

“I nearly did!” Bakugou stopped. He looked confused. “I nearly did and it was because of you and everyone else in our school. Because I thought it was the best option so I would never have to look at you again. I hate you. I don’t know if you know how much but I hate you Bakugou.” The blonde scoffed.

“Liar- you’d have fucking-“

“Enough!” Nezu spoke up then. “Midoriya, you will be on a three person team up. Bakugou- you will be getting a fail.”

“WHAT?!” Bakugou screamed. “What the fuck? He-“

“You have just admitted to instigating suicide and bullying- no abuse.” Nezu snapped. He did not look pleased. “You’re lucky we might NOT expel you-“

“That was in middle school!” Bakugou shouted, finally letingngoing of Izuku and stepping forward. It was like something broke and then Ochako went flying.

“You ass-“ she screamed, slugging him in the fact before she was pulled back by Ashido who didn’t look like she wanted to.

“And? We have no need for a villain training at UA and those actions? Are that of a villain.” Stated Nezu. “Aizawa-“

“I know.” Their homeroom teacher sighed. “I apologize Midoriya. I misread all the interactions between you and Bakugou and thought you both were at fault. I should have thought on it better.”

“Why did you think it was the both of us?” Izuku asked his teacher in a tired voice.

“I didn’t know why he had so much rage against you. It just didn’t seem feasible without both of you participating in a rivalry.” Aizawa told him. “But I suppose it’s pure simply awfulness.”

“Shut up! I’m going to be-“ Bakugou began but he was silenced by a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t say another word.” Kirishima said. He sounded very different then normal. That was when Bakugou saw everyone’s expressions of horror and fear and even some hate. He swallowed.

That… that wasn’t good. Why were they looking at him like that? Deku deserved it! He did!

“Can we even give him a fail?” Asked Midnight, sounding thoughtful.

“Yes.” Nezu said shortly. “He will be failed and then we will discuss if he should keep his place in the Hero course or perhaps be moved to Gen Ed while that boy- Shinsou?- takes his place or if he should be expelled all together.” And, though he kept this to himself, he would have to look into how they were treating their students. Midoriya was right. It wasn’t his job to be a tool for Bakugou’s growth. And they should have thought of that rather then defaulting to the idea they were heroes. Sure the kids had been through a fair bit but not enough to be treated like it.

Perhaps even keeping Bakugou away from the training camp would be good...

-0-

It really annoyed me they decided to pair these two up. Like seriously- also Bakugou as soon as he hit Izuku that should have had them go: BAKUGOU FAIL AND IZUKU GETS A PASS- which actually I’m keeping. I think I can fit it in somewhere for a different fic.

Honestly though- this is why I think they don’t see to much wrong with how they act? Because Bakugou is just plain mean in general so they just kind of assumed it has to be coming from both sides and maybe hey just don’t see Izuku’s side cause Bakugou is loud?!

Anyway- I think in this AU he is demoted to Gen Ed and Shinsou is moved up and Bakugou has to work his ass off to get back into hero course. Of course this does draw media attention which exposes his past which leads to a lot of hate towards him and that’s really what gets it through to him that his middle school was not the norm but an outlier.

And then of course though this isn’t known until the next semester meaning that the whole Kidnap thing doesn’t happen as no one knows he isn’t at the camp, passing off the villains and thus All for One is still around and All Might is still All Might...

Thoughts?

[honey-and-strawberry]

Move in day: 1 (part 1 of Ponytails & Overnights)

An ot7 MX (non idol) x OC university au series.

Warnings: little bit of swearing. Self esteem issues, but gets very wholesome.

Character profiles

Series opening song: Breathe For You by Monsta X

❗️Hyun-Jae❗️

This must be the address. The house looks bigger than the pictures! I hope the inside is just as nice as the outside. The landlord’s garden in the yard is well kept, I wonder if they grow their own vegetables in the greenhouse. I should’ve waited till Hyungwon was free, so he could help me move in right away. It’s ok, he’ll be here soon. He lives in the house next door anyway.

I go to the front door and punch in the code for the lock that was sent to me by email. The decor is very homey, definitely done with love and time. I’m welcomed by a sweet older woman, who was tending to her indoor plants.

“Wang Mi-Ja?” I ask, hoping it was the landlord. She cheerfully nods.

“Please, call me Mimi” she introduces herself. I bow while she puts down her watering can.

“You must be Chae Hyun-Jae, I didn’t expect you to come early” she gestures to the stairs.

“Oh, I’m sorry” I apologize.

“No, don’t be sorry, hearing what Hyungwon says about you, I should’ve known you would be punctual” she grins, leading us up the stairs. She knows that Hyungwon is my brother?

“Hyungwon talks about me?” I worry.

“All good, sweetie. He told me about your application right after you sent it” Mimi unlocks the upstairs door. I hope him talking about me wasn’t the deciding factor in accepting me.

Touring around the apartment, I am so impressed by the space! Fully furnished. Updated appliances. An actual walk in shower next to a deep tub in the bathroom. There is a small dry-erase board by the front door that has a list of house rules.

No boys staying overnight.

Clean after yourself.

Don’t be too loud.

I get to my bedroom and it’s definitely better than the pictures Hyungwon sent me. I could see myself living here.

“Remember, you’re the first one here, the rest of the girls are moving in soon. Ji-Eun should be coming in later today, she will be staying in the first bedroom to the right. I left envelopes for everyone that has keys and facility numbers” Mimi informs.

“Thank you so much, you took wonderful care of the place” I compliment.

“Thank you, if you need me, I’ll be downstairs” she nods before exiting the apartment. This is so much better than my last place! Even if my roommates aren’t the best, I’m still going to enjoy this! Speaking of the roommates, who are these girls? Checking out the envelopes on the dining table, it seems like Mimi addressed them with the girls' names. Cecily Bradford, Phoebe Adler, Park So-Yi, and Lee Ji-Eun. Two Americans I see. This is going to be new, but nothing I can’t handle. I plop on the couch to get a feel for the living room. Wrapping myself in the soft throw blanket, I finally get the sense of “home”. The silence is cleansing. Yes, I grew up in a silent household, but at least this silence isn’t brewed by passive aggressive tension.

Brought a suitcase to my bedroom to slowly unpack. Filling up my dresser and closet before I start the rest of my room. There’s a knock on the front door, it must be Hyungwon.

I greet him at the door, his arms are full of food.

“Since today is your move-in day, I’m treating you to lunch” Hyungwon greets. That’s very sweet of him. It’s not unlike him to treat me to food, but I didn’t expect this much!

“Aw, thank you”. We set the table and enjoy the menagerie of delicious food.

“When do the rest of the girls come in?” Hyungwon pauses from eating.

“Ji-Eun is coming in today, everyone else I don’t know” I shrug.

“Are you and the boys excited to have new neighbors?”.

“Seeing pretty girls everyday sounds nice, but you’re living next door so I’m shit out of luck” he teases.

“Eh!” I exclaim, smacking his arm. He laughs like a mischievous child.

“I could catch someone's eye” I pout.

“Yeah, someone is going to wonder why this animal escaped the zoo” he cackles. “Come on, you make it easy”. I stick my tongue out at him.

“Tell me about your roommates. You told me their names before, but do you like them?” I wonder, changing the subject.

“They’re all great, closest things I could have for brothers” he nods.

“Then why don’t you talk about them more to me?”.

“I don’t know what I could say. They’re all so different, but we all get along so well”.

“I hope it’ll be the same way with me and the girls” I sigh.

“Doubt it. The last group of girls that lived here got into so many fights, some of the guys had to step in to stop them from hurting each other” he leans back. Oh shit, there’s no way! What could’ve prompted that fight? Why haven’t they moved out if they keep fighting?

“Did Mimi do anything about it?” I wonder.

“She gave them warnings, but nothing more than that. She didn’t know how violent they got, she only heard the yells” he shrugs. “I hope for your sake those girls can’t fight”.

“Oh stop, we’re not going to be like that” I shush him.

“Says you and you haven’t even met your roommates yet” he laughs.

“I have a room to myself, if things start getting nasty, I’ll just stay in my room” I compromise.

“That way if someone gets stabbed, you can perform first aid” he jokes. Ha ha, I get it, it’s because I’m a nursing student, how cute. Smartass. I roll my eyes.

“Whatever ever happened to that scholarship you applied for?” Hyungwon changes the subject. My taste turn sour. I didn’t want to be reminded of it, but I guess the truth has to come out.

“I didn’t get it. I asked the department head and they told me I was supposed to get it, but someone came in at the last minute and got it” I confess. Always second place. Every single time.

“Damn, how many times have you applied for it?” he continues. My skin begins to crawl. Please stop talking about it, I already felt the shame, I don’t want to see the disappointment in him. God help me if he tells my parents.

“Every semester for the past four years” I mumble, slouching in defeat.

“Well screw them. That’s the problem with those scholarships, they only see what the application says, they don’t know who the actual person is” he groans. Seeing his frustration worries me. He must be so disappointed that I didn’t get it.

“You’re not upset with me?” I avoid eye contact.

“Why would I? They’re the ones that messed up. You did your best and they failed to see that” he scoffs. That’s a better response than I’d hope for. If only our parents were that considerate.

“Hey” he nods at me. I look up from my bowl.

“Don’t let that stupid scholarship let you down. You’re a great student and even better nurse” he points at me. Although he can be a smartass, he still can find a way to make me feel better about myself.

“What boxes did you already bring in?” Hyungwon changed the subject.

“Just clothes. I didn’t bring my school supplies or kitchenware out of the car yet”.

“I’ll bring them in” Hyungwon insists before throwing his trash away. I put the rest of the food in the fridge, saving the leftovers for dinner. Hyungwon exits the apartment, heading to my car parked just outside. There’s a knock on the front door. Hyungwon? He doesn’t need to knock unless the door has accidentally locked behind him. I open the door and I see what seems to be a model from a magazine, grinning cheek to cheek.

“Hyun-Jae?” this gorgeous stranger asks.

“Ji-Eun?” my eyes widen.

🦋Ji-Eun🦋

This is the place! This place is so much closer to campus, only a short bus ride away! And with the price of rent, I can’t beat this. According to the landlord, a roommate should already be there. The interior reminds me of my grandmother’s house. It definitely smells like my grandmother, the classic choking perfume smell. A very distinct contrast from the exterior, a modern lively chic. Looking at the emails of information, the apartment is in the north staircase. The south staircase is for the boys. A group of men live here? Weird, but it's nice that the landlord is providing affordable housing to students, she must be making bank.

I knock on the door to the apartment, hoping she’s home. The door opens and I’m welcomed by a natural beauty. Her hair is up in a cute loose bun, complimenting her comfortable outfit of a print t-shirt and jeans. I feel a little overdressed for this occasion, wearing a dress and flats.

“Hyun-Jae?” I ask, hoping it’s her.

“Ji-Eun?”.

I cheer with glee. I always had good luck with roommates and I’m sure it’s going to be the same here.

I switch my shoes to my slippers and run around the living space, leaving my suitcase by the door. She’s obviously taken back by my behavior.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so excited” I apologize. I’m a bit more cheerful than the average person, everyone has a different attitude about it.

“It’s ok, I just didn’t expect you to be so...energetic” she hesitates.

“Don’t worry, just give me a minute and the adrenaline will wear off” I joke. There’s nothing wrong with being energized over a new chapter in your life. Getting closer to my goals is something to celebrate, right? I’m getting closer to finishing my second degree, a new environment will give me the final push to succeeding.

“Let me show you around” he smiles. The tour was brief, but I love the space! The furniture looks comfy, the energy in just the living room feels fresh. I take my suitcase to my bedroom. I can pick the bed?! A perk of being here early! I pick the bed by the window to enjoy the view.

“Do you know about the other girls?” I ask.

“I know their names, but that’s it. We’re going to have two American roommates I guess” she sighs. Two Americans? I had an American roommate before. Nice girl, had a hard time adapting.

“That sounds fun. It’s always cool to learn new things from them. A past roommate showed me how she made sandwiches and it changed my world” I keep to the bright side.

“You had roommates before?” she smiles.

“I have, very lovely girls. Have you had roommates before?” I nod.

“This is my first time with roommates. I’m excited that you all are going to be the firsts” she laughs. This girl is very sweet, but seems uptight. She’s probably just nervous, if her not having roommates before is true, then I totally understand the anxious feeling. I’m going to try to make this transition as fluid as possible for her. I wish I had that help when I was first on my own, the least I can do is do that for her.

“We’re lucky to have you”.

“Did you eat?” I add. She nods.

“Do you mind if I go grab some groceries for us till the rest of the girls come?” I gesture to the door.

“You don’t have to do that” she nervously laughs.

“I’m not going to get a lot, it’s ok” I insist. I mostly just want to see how close the store is to here.

“Let me grab my wallet and give you some money” she rushes to her room. I would be fine if I paid for it, but since it’s food for us, I don’t see why not split it. She gives me some cash and tells me to grab some freezer dumplings and dipping sauce. Simple enough. I was probably just going to grab some ramen and drinks.

Opening the front door, I bump right into someone holding a stack of large boxes. The boxes were tall enough I couldn’t see who’s behind them. Thankfully, the boxes aren’t knocked over.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going” a man’s voice groans.

“I’m so sorry!” I apologize, grabbing the other side of the boxes in case I knocked him off balance. I see a head pop over the side of the pillar of boxes. He’s very tall, I thought it was just the boxes that were tall! His eyes widen as if he saw a ghost. He’s pretty cute for a guy who just yelled at me. His lips look divine. His black hair looks long enough to put into a man bun.

“You’re not Hyun-Jae” he states. He must know her, lucky girl.

“Correct, I’m Ji-Eun” I introduce myself with a laugh. He bashfully smiles, pushing his bread cheeks out, making me want to pinch them.

“I’m Hyungwon” he chuckles. The mystery pole of a man has a name. He has such a cute little laugh. Very few laughs I’ve heard in my life are as contagious as his.

“I’m sorry for yelling, I thought you were my sister” he apologizes. That solves how he knows her.

“I’m sorry for bumping into you, come in” I move out of the way.

“It’s ok, you can go ahead” he moves away from the door.

“I was in your way, you go first” I justify for him to go first.

“Ladies first” he rebuttals. Checkmate huh? He turned quite charming rather quickly, hasn’t he?

“What a gentleman” I smirk at him. I walk past him and he’s broader than a pole. Why do I get the sense I’ve seen him somewhere before? I easily could’ve seen him at the store or something, but he’s the kind of man I would remember, right? He bites his lip, restraining himself from saying something, I assume something cutely foolish.

“I hope to see you later” I boldly mention. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. Is he surprised I want to see him?

“You will” he turns confident, giving me a wink.

[allsassnoclass]

maybe I wrote an off-screen epilogue scene.  maybe I didn’t. click the keep reading button to find out

warnings for mentions of weed and a mention of meds

December 26th dawns slowly over the mountains of Colorado, the sun creeping over the landscape like molasses, and Luke wakes up in the same way.  He stays in the murky space between dreams and waking for a long time, floating through his subconscious until Ashton’s gentle fingers trailing up and down his arm finally pull him back to earth and wakefulness.

“Hey there, angel,” Ashton says, shifting to kiss his bare shoulder.  “Good morning, my love.”

“Morning,” Luke hums, turning on to his back so he can see him.  This bed is smaller than the one at their LA house, pushing them closer together and reminding Luke of the months in Utah back when they first got together and earlier this year, when Luke stayed with him for most of fall semester.

Ashton smiles at him, hazel eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Waking up to you is the best way to wake up,” Luke says, voice scratchy from disuse.  It’s something he’s told Ashton multiple times, but it always bears repeating, and it never fails to make Ashton melt a little.  He reaches forward and brushes Luke’s hair out of his face, hand curling against his cheek.  Luke leans forward and kisses him, warm and slow, stubble scratching his face and mouths stale with morning breath.  Ashton hums contentedly when they pull away, eyes staying closed half a moment longer than Luke’s.

“What time is it?” Luke asks.

“Mid-morning,” Ashton replies.

“Petunia?”

“Already took her out and gave her breakfast.”

“I love you,” Luke says.  Ashton can claim to dislike Petunia all he wants, but that doesn’t change the fact that over the course of quarantine he has been the one giving her more treats and belly rubs.  His willingness to get up with her in the morning means Luke is free to stay in bed as long as he wants, and since Ashton returned he can keep him here, too.

“What do you want to do today?” Ashton asks.

“Be with you,” Luke says.  That was partially why they decided to come to Colorado for Christmas.  Ashton wanted a little bit of snow and Luke wanted to spend uninterrupted time with him.  When spring semester starts, Ashton will be heading back to Utah alone.  Luke has been writing and recording a lot of smaller projects in his home studio that will likely never see the light of day, but beginning in January the band is going to have recording time together again.  He’s needed with them, so he and Ashton will be long-distance until the semester ends since the university isn’t having a spring break and they won’t be traveling more than necessary in the pandemic.

“You don’t have a choice out here,” Ashton says.  “The cabin isn’t that big, my heart.”

“Good,” Luke says, hand sliding down Ashton’s waist.  His pet names have been getting increasingly diverse throughout quarantine, and each one still manages to give Luke heart palpitations, even the weird ones like thunder cat and lemon zest.

He leans forward to kiss him again, shifting easily when Ashton tugs to guide him on top, thighs bracketing Ashton’s waist.  Ashton moves his palms to rest heavily on his legs, and when Luke leans back he’s met with the sight of his black hair messy against the white pillow, a ray of sun illuminating his face and making him glow.

He runs his knuckles along the scruffy beginnings of a beard Ashton has been letting himself grow since classes ended.  It’s prickly, but Ashton doesn’t stop him, just watches with a smile.

“You’re so handsome, Ash,” he says.  The eclectic mountain man vibe he’s been leaning into shouldn’t work, but somehow Luke looks at him and is still as enamoured as he was with the adorable boy he didn’t realize he loved and the beautiful man he married.

“Take a picture.  It’ll last longer,” Ashton says.  Luke moves his hands to the smooth planes of his chest, keeping himself propped up.

“I think that’s your expertise,” he says, reminded of the hundreds of photographs stored on Ashton’s phone or various sim cards around the house, all filled with Luke in various moods, positions, styles, and states of dress.  One of Ashton’s goals for their summer together was to bring his photography skills up to par with his painting, and with lockdown Luke was the only convenient subject.

They have some pictures that they’ll never show anyone, and there are a few that Luke has considered showing the world.  Needless to say, Ashton is his favorite photographer.

“I wish I had my camera now,” Ashton says.  “Every inch of you is exquisite, and with the way you’re backlit by the sun you look ethereal.  If I could capture the expression on your face I would never take another picture again, because none of them would compare.”

He doesn’t yet have the words to respond to that, so he leans down and kisses Ashton again, and again, and again.

-/-

After wasting the entire morning together under the covers and grabbing something quick to eat, Luke and Ashton go for a walk.  It’s not cold enough to be unpleasant, and the cabin has woods to one side with paths stomped down throughout.  They soon lose sight of the house behind them.  Luke hopes they’ll be able to find their way back when the time comes, but if they get lost at least they’ll be together.

“This year was a lot better than it should have been,” Ashton says.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a global pandemic going on.  There have been thousands of needless deaths, cancelled plans, and teaching was significantly harder and less fun, but I think this year was my happiest year since I can remember.  I feel really good about my art.  I feel like I’m more aware of the world around me.  I’ve stopped feeling as self-conscious.  I finally got put on meds that work, and I’m actively enjoying my life.”

“You smoked a lot of weed.”

Ashton laughs.

“Yeah, I smoked a lot of weed, but I kept it professional at school.”

“Some of your students’ works would’ve been even better if you were high while seeing them for the first time.”

“Luke,” Ashton admonishes.  “I’m not trying to get fired.  I need the administration for reference letters since I’m job searching near LA now.”

Luke stops walking, letting Ashton carry on without him for a few steps.

“You’re job searching?”

“I am.”  He backtracks, meeting Luke where he is and taking his hands.  “Luke, I’m not stupid.  I know that the reason this year didn’t suck was because it was the first year I got to fully spend with you.  You are the love of my life, and I don’t want to try living my life without you for eight months of the year anymore.  When you’re not traveling around the world dazzling people with your talent, I want to be with you at home.  I love teaching, and I’m going to keep trying to do that, but after this semester I’m moving to LA permanently whether I have something else lined up or not.”

“Oh,” Luke says.  “I thought you loved Utah.  You have friends there, and students.  Are you sure you want to leave that?”

This past semester, Luke was able to fully witness Ashton as a teacher.  When he wasn’t on campus, Luke got full exposure to his joys and frustrations.  He sympathized with him over administrative decisions and safety protocols and got to see pictures and video tours of the art submissions that Ashton wasn’t able to see in person.

He gave Daisy an encouraging voice note for finals, because she’s been struggling with trying to complete her senior project given the circumstances and Ashton asked him to since she’s his favorite.

“I have friends here, too, and there will be other students,” Ashton says.  “Even if that wasn’t the case, being with you would be worth it.”

Luke’s heart feels full to bursting.

“Really?” he asks, needing one more confirmation that his dream is going to come true before he lets himself believe it.

“Yes, my sweet.  I’m moving to LA with you for as long as you make that city your home.”

Luke kisses him because the other option is to start crying, something which he doesn’t want to do when they’re out in the cold.

“I think this was one of my best years, too,” Luke confesses.

He came out and then almost immediately deleted his social media from his phone.  He’s learned more about what it means to be a good ally.  He’s grown as a songwriter, stretching himself with different genres and working on his piano skills more, writing dozens of love songs for Ashton and silly ones for Petunia, bad ones, good ones, and amazing ones for himself and for the band.  He figured out what it really means to be a husband, sharing his life with Ashton and able to physically be there for the bad days they both had and celebrate the joyful ones.

Things haven’t been perfect by any means.  They had to postpone the tour, they can’t see anyone, and it often feels like the world is on fire.  Still, though, he’s had Ashton.

Through all of this, he’s had Ashton, and after this semester he’ll always have him with him.

“You’ve been glowing,” Ashton says.  “I’m glad I got to experience it with you.”

“Me too,” Luke says.  “I love you.”

Ashton kisses his nose.

“I love you, too.”

They continue their walk hand in hand, enjoying the fresh air.  Ashton points out signs that animals had been there and Luke ensures that he doesn’t run into any trees while he’s not paying attention to where he’s walking.  The path turns out to be a big loop, and soon they can see other cabins again and then their own back door.

“Wait,” Ashton says before they go inside.  “I want to jump in the snow.  Film it for my instagram.”

Ashton has a professional artist social media, but he also has a private instagram that he posts on frequently.  Luke has gotten very used to snapping pictures or videos for him, always endeared by which pieces of his life Ashton wants to share with the rest of the world.

Ashton takes off his coat for the video and faceplants with a kerplunk.  As soon as he’s done filming, Luke is laughing.

“That was fun,” Ashton says when he hands his phone back to him.  “Want to make snow angels?”

“No, Ash, I want to go inside,” Luke says.  He gets no warning before Ashton has arms around his waist, tackling him down into the snow and making Luke shriek.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” Luke laughs, poking Ashton’s pink nose with his glove.  Ashton beams above him.

“Can we go inside now?” Luke asks.  Ashton hums, then snaps a picture with his phone.

“Now we can,” he says, getting up and offering Luke a hand.  Luke lets Ashton haul him up, then they finally enter the cabin again, stomping snow off their boots and brushing it from their coats.

They don’t have any plans for the rest of the day, or the rest of their stay in Colorado in general, but Luke couldn’t care less about what they’re going to do.  He gets to spend the rest of the holiday with Ashton, and then the rest of his life with him.  Soon they’ll be permanently in the same house again, and he couldn’t be happier.

If Ashton managed to transform an awful year into a good one, Luke can’t wait to experience all of the amazing years ahead with him right by his side where he belongs.

[artificialqueens]

Don't Strauss Too Much (Crygi) - Mumu

A/N: Back on my Crygi clownery! A big thank you to the lovely @sportcox who helped me brainstorm this title <3

Summary: Gigi needs a tutor, and Crystal is happy to help her out.

Gigi Goode is going to throw herself off a cliff.

She’s been staring at her flashcards from yesterday’s music theory lecture for what feels like forever now, and she’s still no closer to memorizing the information she needs to know for her quiz on Friday than when she got here.

She and Nicky are sitting in the corner of their favourite cafe, notebooks and highlighters sprawled out on the table among cups of coffee and various sweet treats. Normally, the cozy atmosphere always puts Gigi into a good mood, but today she’s far too stressed to enjoy the experience. She has a week to memorize a whole chapter’s worth of material. So far she’s wasted most of her time just staring blankly at her notes.

“What kind of demon professor gives a quiz on a Friday, anyway?” She complains.

Besides her, Nicky laughs. “Take a break if you’re so upset about it.”

“That’s not how it works,” Gigi mumbles, even as she closes her folder and takes a sip of her iced coffee. She slumps back into her seat. “Music theory is gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

“I don’t even understand why you’re taking it,” Nicky says, tapping her pen against her teeth distractedly.

“I needed the credit,” Gigi explains in a monotone. “I thought it would be easy, but Professor Visage doesn’t even give us completion credit for homework.”

“Oh, the horror,” Nicky smirks at her. “Imagine, Stanford professors not giving you full credit just because you turned your work in.”

“Shut up,” Gigi pouts. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Can’t you just drop?” Nicky steals a bite of Gigi’s tiramisu, giggling when the other girl swats her away. “Hey, I’m helping, I deserve some of your cake.”

“I can’t,” Gigi says, rolling her eyes at Nicky’s antics. “Missed the deadline.”

“Just get a tutor then,” Nicky suggests. “Isn’t that Crystal girl you like also taking it? You said she was doing well last time.”

Gigi very nearly chokes on a macaroon.

“How… do you even remember that?” She gets out, coughing.

“As if I could forget. That’s all you talked about the entire two hours we hung out. You were all, ‘Crystal’s so good at theory’ and ‘Visage likes her so much’ and ‘if she weren’t so pretty I could be able to hate her.’” Nicky teases. “Besides, you know I love to play matchmaker.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to break it to you, but that’s not happening. I can’t even talk to her, let alone survive a tutoring session with that girl.” Gigi says.

“Okay, well, it’s not like you have any other options.” Nicky is unimpressed.

“Then I’d better just accept that I’ll bomb this quiz.” Gigi pops another macaroon into her mouth in self-pity.

“No, not on my watch.” Nicky insists. “Just message her, it’s not that hard!”

“Absolutely not,” Gigi says. She reopens her folder, looking glumly down at the index cards tucked into the pocket. “Like I said, I’d rather fail.”

She’s too busy staring down at the material in front of her to notice when Nicky grabs her phone until it’s too late. “Hey!”

Nicky just cackles, angling her body so that Gigi can’t interrupt her typing. “If you don’t have the guts, I’ll do it for you.”

“Nicolette Doll, I’ll kill you,” Gigi says, trying to grab at her phone.

Gigi glares at her friend, calculating about a hundred ways to dispose of her body. She has half a mind to drive her dessert fork into the blonde’s neck in an attempt to stop her from going through with this. Gigi bats at Nicky’s arms, attempting to wrestle the device away from her.

It’s no use. Nicky’s grip is strong, and Gigi watches with growing horror as the blonde types Crystal’s Instagram handle into the explore page. Nicky doesn’t even need to type the full name; Crystal pops up into her recent searches as soon as she inputs the first few letters.

In usual circumstances, Gigi would at least be embarrassed, but right now she’s more horrified at the prospect of messaging Crystal Methyd.

Crystal, the girl who she’s been crushing on since the very first music theory lecture. Crystal, who’s probably the reason she’s barely pulling a big fat D in the class in the first place, since, as it turns out, staring at the pretty Latina sitting in the front row isn’t a very effective learning strategy.

“Nicky,” Gigi says, trying a different approach. “I’ll do the dishes for a week.”

“Too late!” Nicky grins at her, far too proud of herself. She hands the phone back to Gigi. “Your welcome.”

Gigi stares down at her phone screen, blinking dumbly at it.

Hey! This is Gigi from music theory. I needed a tutor and was wondering if you might wanna help?

Gigi’s gaze darts from Nicky to the screen, and then back again.

“I hate you,” She decides, puffing out a breath at the end of the sentence. “Why am I friends with you?”

“You’ll be thanking me soon enough.” Nicky shrugs. “Oh! Look, she’s typing!”

Gigi feels a rush of dizzying panic at Nicky’s narration. She snatches her phone closer to her chest, doing her best impression of a chipmunk with a peanut. A glance down confirms, yes, Crystal really is typing out a response. Now that Crystal’s already seen it, it’s too late to unsend the message. God, she’s probably weirded out by the random request. Why did Gigi think bringing this up with Nicky was a good idea?

“Uh-uh, I don’t trust you anymore,” She scolds, voice only shaking a bit, as Nicky tries to peek over her shoulder. “You can sit there and if you’re lucky I’ll fill you in.”

Nicky huffs, pouting. “Putain.”

Gigi’s about to retort when Crystal’s typing icon disappears, and a message replaces it.

hi gigi :) of course!

Gigi fights the dumb smile that’s threatening to burst across her cheeks, hyper-aware of the fact that Nicky’s watching her intently. She can feel the french girl’s gaze on her, practically burning a hole through her ponytail and skull.

Crystal typed the message in lowercase— Gigi’s not sure why she finds that so endearing, but the detail lodges itself in her brain and Gigi files it under the mental list she’s begun to keep this semester. Little things about Crystal: she likes big earrings, her laugh sounds like liquid sunshine, her hair is a different colour every other week. And now, the newest addition, she types in lowercase.

The smiley face Crystal sent peers up at her.

Her phone pings again. how does tuesday sound? maybe at 3pm?

“Bitch, what’s happening?” Nicky asks, craning her neck in an attempt to catch a glimpse of their exchange.

A flash of annoyance shoots through Gigi. For some reason, she feels very protective of this little exchange. Nicky’s well-meaning, she knows, but she’s not quite ready to share Crystal yet. It feels kind of exciting to know that this… well, whatever this is, is just between the two of them.

“Nothing so far,” She says. Nicky seems to accept the answer, going back to reading a section in her textbook.

Sounds good. We can work in the Lane reading room if that works for you?

The response comes almost immediately. totally, yeah! see you then

Gigi tries not to feel disappointed at the lack of a smiley face this time around. Keyword: she tries to. But it’s hard to read the signs over a couple of text messages, and she re-reads the last text she sent. Did she do something wrong? Was it too formal? What does Gigi respond, now that she isn’t sure if Crystal just texts everyone smiley faces, or if the girl is flirting with her?

Gigi grabs a chocolate chip cookie and takes a bite, stalling. There are two chunks of chocolate in the mouthful. Gigi takes that as a good sign and decides to go for it.

Looking forward to it! See you then <3

She regrets adding on the heart as soon as she presses send, but there’s no way to take the message back now. Gigi settles on stuffing her face with the rest of the cookie in regret.

She waits a few excruciating seconds, but no response comes. Fuck, she shouldn’t have added that heart. Crystal must think she’s totally creepy. Gigi flips her phone facedown on the table and picks up those flashcards again.

Nicky sees her make like she’s going to continue studying and lets out a snort. “Good luck, girl.”

“Nice to know you have faith in me,” Gigi shoots back, chewing at her bottom lip.

Nicky’s right, though. She doesn’t get anything done for the rest of the half-hour they’re there, her mind too full of thoughts about study dates and smiley faces to focus on anything else.

***

“Ugh!” Gigi tosses another dress aside, falling back onto her bed dramatically. “Why is this so hard?”

Nicky looks up from her phone. “You’re the one that’s making it complicated.”

Gigi throws a pillow in her general direction and the blonde shrieks as it hits her. The impact makes her fall out the beanbag she’s currently sitting on with a loud thump.

“Merde, okay, I’ll help!”

“Thanks.” Gigi flashes a cheeky smile at her.

Nicky puts her phone down and contemplates murdering her friend. “What do you have so far?”

“Uh,” Gigi holds up a tweed dress. “This?”

Nicky can’t help it: a snort escapes her. “What are you, Blair Waldorf? That’s way too fancy.”

“Alright then, uh,” Gigi fishes around for a bit, before showing Nicky a floral two-piece. “What about this one?”

“Hell no, a set looks way too put together.” Nicky shakes her head. “You wanna creep her out?”

Ten minutes and half of Gigi’s closet later, they’ve finally settled on a winning combination: a leather jacket and Gigi’s favourite pair of jeans.

Nicky insists that she doesn’t need a bra under her mini cardigan, so Gigi rolls with it.

A little part of her is glad that Nicky’s so passionate about Gigi flashing Crystal her nipples: at least she will have someone to blame when this all ends in a train wreck because she’s coming on way too strong.

Also, the mental image of Crystal getting flustered— well, Gigi would be lying if she said it wasn’t convincing.

Gigi’s alarm goes off and she grabs her phone, groaning at the time. “Shit, I’m gonna have to power-walk there.”

“I’ll see you after then,” Nicky says, winking at her. “Have fun with your little crush!”

As it turns out, Gigi didn’t have anything to worry about, because Crystal is late. Gigi takes a seat by the windows, spreading out her stuff. She tries not to think too much about the girl she’s currently waiting for, occupying herself instead with watching the people outside.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” A voice says. Gigi turns and comes face to face with Crystal. The girl slides into the seat next to Gigi, her smile a little sheepish. “Art History is on the other side of campus. I guess I didn’t give myself enough time to get here.”

“Oh, uh,” Gigi flounders, not sure where to look. Is it weird to look into Crystal’s eyes? That feels a bit too intimate. She settles for focusing on moving her pencil case from her left to her right. Crystal’s looking expectantly at her, and she swallows hard, trying to clear her mind of Crystal’s tanned skin and cute freckles.

“No worries!” Her voice comes out weirdly high-pitched and she cringes inwardly.

Crystal doesn’t seem to notice her strange behaviour, flashing her another sunny grin. “Okay! Is there a specific section you want help with?”

Right. Tutoring. That’s why Crystal is here. Not so Gigi can stare at her, and certainly not to get to know Gigi or anything like that. Gigi can’t help the pang of disappointment that she gets at the reminder. Part of her forgot this is strictly a school-related thing. Gigi suddenly feels stupid for overthinking her outfit and draws her jacket closer to herself. Hopefully Crystal doesn’t notice how dressed-up she is today, because Gigi doesn’t know if she’ll be able to survive that embarrassment.

“I’ve been having trouble with secondary dominants,” Gigi says, pulling out her workbook.

“Okay, yeah, I can help you with those!” Crystal grabs a pen. She leans over, tracing the chords with it. “Can I write on this?”

“Huh?” Gigi asks stupidly, cheeks warming. Crystal’s shoulder is pressed against hers, and although it’s perfectly innocent, Gigi’s still hyper-aware of the way her skin feels too warm from the contact. She tries to stay perfectly still, not wanting to spook the other girl into moving away from her position. “Oh, uh, go ahead, totally. That’s fine.”

“Right, great, so let’s use this question,” Crystal says, marking something down on the book.

She’s close enough to Gigi now that her perfume envelopes the space around them. She smells like honey and coconut, a warm mixture that Gigi finds comforting. A curl slips over Crystal’s shoulder, and the girl bats it away. Gigi almost melts at how cute the action is.

This week Crystal’s hair is a muted matcha colour, and Gigi thinks that it suits her. It’s the prettiest she’s ever seen Crystal. Then again, she thinks that every time Crystal walks into class with a new colour, so maybe it’s less of a testament to the colour itself and more to how utterly head-over-heels Gigi is.

“The key signature is A Major, and this chord starts on a C. So you can count down a fifth from C, and you get F, which means that the chord is an F Dominant Seventh,” Crystal explains. “Do you know what the next step is?”

“Um,” Gigi says eloquently, brought back from her daydream by the question. How long did she zone out for?

“Sorry,” Crystal says, tapping her pen on the workbook rapidly. “I lost you, didn’t I?”

“No, it’s okay, just,” Gigi chews at her lip nervously, then immediately regrets it because she definitely has lipstick on her teeth now. “Can you go over it again?”

Crystal nods. She takes a sharp inhale like she’s going to say something, but seems to change her mind, instead offering Gigi a reassuring smile. “Of course, yeah.”

Gigi shifts awkwardly in her seat at the action, unsure what Crystal’s thinking. She’s about to ask, or say something when Crystal jumps into the explanation again. Gigi tries her very hardest to pay attention this time, but she still finds herself staring at Crystal’s lips. They’re coated with a glittery red gloss, and they look so shiny and plump that Gigi really, really wants to kiss them.

“Wanna try one on your own now?” Crystal asks.

Gigi blinks. “What?”

Crystal sets her pen down, eyebrows raised. “Did you get any of that?”

“I, uh,” Gigi stammers, trying to find some way to save the situation. Her cheeks warm, and the realization that she’s blushing makes her even more flustered. “Sorry, I’m just really out of it.”

Crystal offers her a sympathetic smile, patting Gigi on the arm comfortingly. “Hey, you’ll be fine, okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m just worried, I guess.” That’s not it at all, but Crystal doesn’t need to know that.

“I won’t let you fail, promise,” Crystal says with a wink. Gigi can’t help but giggle at the action, and Crystal pokes her playfully. “You got this!”

“Thanks,” Gigi mutters, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth through a soft smile.

There’s a slight pause, both girls regarding each other with a hint of shyness. Gigi swallows thickly, eyes flicking around Crystal’s face. Her breath is coming quicker now, and she feels a bit lightheaded.

Crystal has picked up her pen again, nervously clicking it under the table. The sound is threatening to overpower Gigi’s already scattered thoughts. Gigi’s hand goes to cover hers out of instinct, to stop the rhythmic clicks. The back of Crystal’s hand is soft, and Gigi’s fingers loop lightly around her wrist, feeling the fuzz brush against her fingertips. Crystal stops clicking the pen, but Gigi doesn’t remove her hand.

Crystal takes another sharp inhale in, and Gigi thinks the girl is going to shake her hand loose. Nothing happens, though, and for the second time, Crystal seems to swallow her words.

Gigi’s mouth feels sticky, and she runs her tongue along her teeth in an attempt to get rid of the feeling. Crystal presses her lips together at the sight, and Gigi feels a wave of adrenaline so strong it almost knocks her flat. Every fibre in Gigi’s body wants to crash herself against Crystal. She wants to feel the lip gloss slathered on the other girl’s lips on her own, and to drape her arms over Crystal’s shoulders. Her clammy hands twitch as if they might truly act on the desire without Gigi’s approval, and she balls them into fists to suppress the urge.

“You look pretty today,” Crystal says, more air than sound to her words.

Gigi hums. “So do you. You always do.”

Another few moments of stillness. Gigi finds it surprisingly comfortable, existing in Crystal’s space. She focuses on the rise and fall of Crystal’s chest, subconsciously mirroring the pattern with her own breathing.

Crystal’s the braver of the two.

She makes the first move, flipping over their hands so that hers is on top and using that to tug the redhead closer to her. Gigi slides obediently forward in her seat, her legs slotting around Crystal’s. Crystal walks her fingers up Gigi’s arm, raising goosebumps as she gets higher and higher. A chill runs through Gigi’s body, and she regrets not wearing a bra for the second time today. She shifts, straightening her spine, and immediately has to bite back a whimper when she feels her nipples brushing against the knit of her cardigan. By the smirk on Crystal’s face, the moment hasn’t gone unnoticed. There’s a challenge in her eyes, and Gigi feels her throat close when Crystal’s hand brushes her cheek.

Fucking tease, Gigi wants to say, or maybe scream. Hurry up and kiss me.

But Gigi doesn’t, she just sits there and tracks Crystal’s movements with her eyes, and shivers when Crystal tucks a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, agonizingly slow.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Crystal asks, tilting her head in faux innocence.

Gigi bristles and feels her hands jerk impatiently in her lap. “Yes, fuck.”

But Crystal doesn’t let her get it that easily. She shakes her head, curls bouncing gently around her face. “No, say it.”

Gigi splutters something in between a curse and a laugh. The absolute nerve of this bitch. She doesn’t bother saying it again, just rolls her eyes lightly and leans in. Her patience has worn thin, and Crystal’s lips are too inviting to not feel them on hers right this moment.

Crystal ducks away and Gigi is left hanging there for a second, confused, before she opens her eyes with an annoyed huff. “You-”

“Say it,” Crystal repeats. The corners of her lips turn up slightly like she’s fighting a smile. Her hand goes to cup Gigi’s chin. “Wanna hear you say it, Geeg.”

Gigi literally feels her vision cloud over for a split second at the nickname.

Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but her blood is buzzing in her body and she swears everything has gone a bit fuzzy around the edges. In any normal circumstance, Gigi would probably be over this little game of cat and mouse. She could just kiss someone else. But this is Crystal Methyd in front of her, and that’s enough to make her decide to shelve her pride for now.

She wets her lips and whispers what Crystal wants to hear. “I want you to kiss me.”

Crystal narrows her eyes at Gigi, and for one terrible moment, Gigi thinks Crystal is going to find another excuse to deny her, that she’s going to pull away and tell her that this has all been some kind of cruel power play. But then Crystal’s closing the remaining distance between them, and Gigi takes a sharp shock of air in and has to blow the breath out in one great big rush because Crystal is finally, finally kissing her. It’s tender and soft, a bit more elementary school than anything, and it’s perfect.

Crystal pulls away before Gigi can slide even closer, and she whines unashamedly, shuddering out a shaky breath. Crystal’s hand brushes against Gigi’s chest as she lets it fall, and Gigi’s breath catches. This girl is going to be the death of her.

“Been waiting to do that for a while,” Gigi admits, still a bit breathless.

“I know,” Crystal says. There’s a pretty blush adorning the highs of her cheeks, still visible when she continues. “I was wondering when you’d work up the nerve to talk to me. You stare at me every class.”

“Bitch! I wasn’t that obvious,” Gigi defends.

Crystal just blinks at her. “No, you were obvious as fuck.”

“Oh.” Gigi feels heat blooming on her cheeks.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I know that?” Crystal prompts. Gigi still looks a little confused, so she continues. “I only noticed because I was watching you, too.”

“You liked me and didn’t make a move?” Gigi exclaims, hitting Crystal on the arm playfully.

“It was more fun to watch you struggle,” Crystal says, waggling her eyebrows.

“You suck.”

“If I kiss you again will you forgive me?” Crystal pulls an exaggerated sad face, clasping her hands together.

Gigi just snorts and closes the distance. Their lips mesh together softly, just as dizzying as the first kiss, and when she pulls away Gigi can still feel Crystal’s gloss on her lips. She smacks them together, trying to blend her own lipstick with the bright red goop.

“So. Do you think you can try a problem now, Miss Goode?” Crystal grins mischievously at Gigi.

“I don’t know, you’re quite distracting,” Gigi counters, a smile pulling at her lips.

Crystal just hums, pointing at a row of questions. “If you get three of those right in a row, I’ll kiss you some more.”

“On my own?” Gigi really would rather go on kissing Crystal.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun, we can make it a game!” Crystal sounds hopeful enough that Gigi finds herself wanting to keep her happy. “Please?”

“What, now you’re the one begging?” Gigi teases.

She picks up her pencil, getting to work. Something about this new studying strategy is more effective than anything she’s tried before, and before long, thanks to Crystal’s teaching (and the kisses peppered between each problem set,) Secondary Dominants make perfect sense.

Come test day, Gigi sits right next to Crystal, in the front row, and makes a respectable 82.

If Professor Visage notices the hand-holding and stolen glances they exchange in the following lectures, she doesn’t mention it. The professor just seems grateful that Gigi’s finally absorbing the content for once. And as for the extent of her knowledge of why Gigi is suddenly so motivated to come into her class every day, well, Visage’s knowing smile says it all.

[kareofbears]

blinding lights, chapter 3/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality.“

—

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

read on ao3 or under the cut!

——

On a technical standpoint, rain doesn’t bother Akechi.

Whenever it rains, no matter if it was just a drizzle or a downpour, people scramble to the nearest overhang, praying that they don’t get drenched. Such a trivial thing to get panicked by, he thought. City rain like this was hardly something to fear, yet it remains a constant in societal culture—water starts falling from the sky and people stop whatever they’re doing to duck for cover.

And since Akechi had long since accepted to reform himself into the mold of society rather than the other way around, here he was, in the middle of Kichijoji, shoulders pressed back against the building of Darts & Billboards, waiting for the rain to tire itself out.

Out of all the habits he’s practiced and perfected from his days of deceit, it’s strange that hiding out from rainfall is one of the few that he still can’t shake, inconsequential as it was. He had learned that mimicking what can be considered societal norms and exercised it in everyday life can at least trick most people that he, Akechi Goro, can be lumped in with the norms and be heightened to excellence later on. People hid from droplets and because the path of normalcy is what he wanted, he decided that he’ll hide with them.

It took him a long time to narrow down why it bothered him. Why, for some reason, it had pissed him off that idiots would commit to such an insignificant action. It’s because when people run for cover, when they prioritize the act of hiding over everything else, they’re essentially allowing the rain—this overall harmless entity—to prevent them from reaching their destination. Fools let their decisions be dictated by the weather, wasting their time waiting it out, letting themselves be dictated beyond their control.

It’s a product of the collective unconscious; rather than pushing past the drizzle to reach their destination, or continue living their life as it were before the storm clouds rolled in, the masses decided that the better decision was to cease all movements because it would be easier. When it rains, society comes at a standstill.

“D’you always just stand in the middle of the promenade lookin’ pissed, or am I just lucky?”

Akechi blinks and turns his head to see a patch of bright, blond hair with an even brighter grin. His purple hood was pulled up, but it’s too short that it does little to block out the downpour.

Sakamoto Ryuji stands in front of him, completely drenched and unbothered.

“I’d hardly call it luck, so much as a coincidence.” Flicking his eyes downward, Ryuji adjusts the heavy looking plastic bags hanging off of his wrists. “And you?”

“Doing some grocery shopping for my ma. She’s been real busy at work, so…” he shrugs.

It really was a strange coincidence that he shows up like this, unprompted. The universe, if it ever was sentient, had never thrown him a bone. However, for Ryuji to show up, it almost seems like a waste to let it go.

If he’s been wanting to see Sakamoto up close, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

“How do you feel about joining me in some people-watching?” Akechi asks.

Ryuji’s eyes light up. “Sure! These bags are getting heavy anyway, could use a break.” He dodges a stream of water flowing cleanly from the gutter and joins Akechi underneath the overhang. Whether he can sense Akechi’s discomfort or perhaps it’s a feeling residing from the real reality, Ryuji had kept a gap of about a meter between the two.

“I hope I didn’t take you away from any pressing matters, Sakamoto.”

“Nah,” he gently sets down his bags before turning to give Akechi his full attention. “Don’t got much waiting for me back home with my ma at work, but can’t stay for too long,” he nods his head down to his bags. “She’d kick my ass if I let the milk go bad.”

Ryuji laughs, shoulders shaking. “But y’know, I see you hangin’ with ‘Kira sometimes, and any friend of that bastard is a friend of mine. And, uh, speaking of…” With an expression of guilt and reluctance so tremulous that Akechi can only compare it to a child getting caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Yes, technically he’s an unforgivable hypocrite for advising Sumire against speaking to Ryuji, but that won’t stop him from getting the information he needs. (It never has.)

After all, there must be something special about Sakamoto in order to have Kurusu Akira wrapped around his finger.

“Oh?” he responds.

“Yeah, it, uh, might be a bit awkward so I’ll do my best to be straight about it,” Ryuji looks embarrassed, but determined. “I know the feeling of not wanting to say something, to have it weigh you down and shit. Basically, what I’m tryna say is: you don’t just gotta rely on Akira!”

Akechi’s eyes widen. It should’ve been impossible. How did he figure out about Akira and the other reality when he hasn’t even been snapped out of it—

“You looked super stressed back in New Year’s and I get that you’d rather talk to Akira, but he’s a busy guy. And I know we aren’t close, but if you want to vent, or just, I dunno, get some ramen together?” he shrugs and throws a smile in Akechi’s direction. “I’m here for you.”

Akechi’s face is carefully blank. He’s wrong, because of course Sakamoto didn’t figure it out. (Has he ever figured anything out?)

He had done extensive research on the Thieves the second he got a whiff of who they might be, and that was especially the case for the initial members of the group. Sakamoto Ryuji, a second-year in the now infamous Shujin Academy. Formerly the star of the track team, his leg was snapped beyond repair by Kamoshida, the Thieves’ initial target. While he had always possessed a temper, it had grown exponentially when the teacher had faced no charges and he was shunned by the rest of the school. It’s like the Boy Who Cried Wolf—except there had undoubtedly been a wolf, and the boy ended up with a lifetime’s worth of permanent damage.

At first, he had chalked up Ryuji’s temper as yet another weakness—Akechi had learned firsthand just how fast the hand of authority strikes if one were to place a toe out of line. It’s how he decided to perfect the weapon of deceit. Akechi learned from his mistakes, to the point that his heart had split itself into two people he could become: Loki as his true self, and Robin Hood as who he needs to be.

Even Akira had understood the hubris of exposing himself, had felt the same punishment that Akechi was subjected to (ironically by the same person). In a world where a mask can be the difference between life and death, Akechi and Akira had decided to be its executioner rather than the one subjected to the sharp end of the guillotine.

By the nature of these rules, Ryuji should have been beheaded. And he was.

But instead of learning his lesson the way Akechi and Akira had, he had been rejuvenated. Instead of bending to the will of authority, he let that pressure mold him into something tougher, let the anger inside him fester and grow.

It had made sense, in hindsight, why Ryuji had treated him the way he did (it’s not like Akechi had the best intentions). So seeing him like this, where he never found out Akechi’s true personality, allowed him to see Ryuji in his natural state.

A feeling surges within Akechi, so foreign that it takes him slightly too long just to name it. All around him, deep in his gut, spread all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes is wave after wave of…

“I’m done here,” Akechi says.

Discomfort.

“Huh?” Ryuji cocks his head. “Uh, was that weird of me to say? My bad, Ann’s always said I had a big, fat mouth. Sorry, yeah we aren’t close and stuff. Just thought it’d be nice—”

Akechi holds back a click of his tongue and, with a little effort, morphs his expression into one of false platitudes and plasticity. A slight quirk in his lips (not too high or it’ll scare them), tilt his head at a certain angle, and raise his voice an octave to indicate an apology. “Sorry to leave so suddenly. Thank you for your time.”

The rain had stopped sometime during their conversation and he hates that the universe seemed like it had taken pity on him.

Ryuji says something to him, but Akechi refuses to listen to another word—he doesn’t need to. He got what he wanted. All it took was one conversation for Akechi to know exactly what Akira sees in him.

That incessant authenticity and kindness shouldn’t exist in a world like this. It shouldn’t have existed in an angry boy like him.

Akechi tries (and fails) to look like he isn’t running away.

It was only when he was in bed later that night that he realized he didn’t find out what Ryuji’s wish was. Given the way he said Akira’s name though, Akechi didn’t have to think too hard.

—

AG: The biggest gray area in this has to be with Niijima Makoto YS: wow. I didn’t think you’d be straight-forward with your relationship with her. thank you for your honesty. YS: you both must have a difficult history with one another :( AG: What are you talking about? AG: I’m saying I don’t know where to find her. YS: ah. i see. YS: haha how about we just pretend that never happened?

They checked Shujin Academy (closed for winter break), Aoyama Itchome (for good measure), and finally the bookstore in Central Street (the smell of books is so lovely) before Akechi began to lose his temper.

“It wouldn’t be a huge surprise if we just found her in the middle of Tokyo University impersonating a research assistant as some sad excuse to feel some adrenaline for the first time in her life,” he says as they walk down the escalator, prepared to hop on the train and try somewhere else.

Sumire frowns. “Being studious doesn’t make someone boring.”

“Of course it doesn’t. Kurusu is at the top of his class and a huge public nuisance. No, Niijima’s absolutely underneath the sole of academics and government propaganda from her father since day one.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I don’t like anyone,” he replies. “Especially not someone so tied with practicing law like she plans to.”

They round the corner. “You can talk to her about that yourself.”

Standing by the overpriced-looking smoothie bar is Niijima Makoto, accompanied by a beautiful older woman who looks like she can melt down a rusted car with a single glare.

“I would think that Sae-san would quite actually murder me if I were to bring that up.”

“You know the other woman?”

“It would be rude not to know my co-workers after all,” says Akechi. “That’s prosecutor Niijima Sae—Makoto’s sister as well as one of the Thieves’ targets from the past.”

Sumire ponders over the odds for a second. “Did she happen to have a casino as a Palace?”

He pauses. “Yes. As a matter of fact, she did.”

“Amazing! What luck!” she beams. “May I try and guess what their wish may be?”

“Is this nothing but a game to you?” he says immediately, before stopping himself. “…One guess.”

Brows scrunching together, she leans towards him, shoulders sagged as if she was carrying a secret so heavy that it physically weighed her down. Poker chips, alcohol bottles, and slot machines… “Did Makoto-senpai wish for Sae-san’s gambling addiction to go away?”

Akechi stares at her. “Who was it again that taught you how Palaces work?”

“Morgana-senpai.”

“If that’s the case, I’m simply over the moon that he didn’t join us on our mission.” They walk towards the Niijimas, who were still chatting amicably with one another. “Their father passed when they were young; it left their family jaded, it was traumatizing, et cetera, I’m sure you get the gist.”

“Wait, I really don’t—”

“Akechi? What a coincidence!”

The sisters greeted them with kind eyes and soft smiles, and Sumire has to accept that she’s out of her league for this one—the student council president may have been a common name around school, but it hardly ever came with more information other than how good her grades were, as well as the potential ‘narc’ comment. But despite what Akechi thinks, no Phantom Thief could possibly be on the side of the police; they’ve all had enough firsthand experience with that particular institution to see just how often the system has failed them.

Akechi nods. “It truly is,” he says, as if they hadn’t spent half the day walking around Tokyo scrounging for them. “This is Yoshizawa Sumire, Sae-san.”

“Pleasure to meet you!”

“Likewise,” Sae says.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised to see you here,” Akechi says. “Did we interrupt you both?”

“Not at all. We were just doing some grocery shopping for dinner tonight. Our father’s been having a craving for teriyaki,” she answers. “Why so surprised, Akechi?”

“Nothing in particular,” he says, and Sumire can feel his smugness radiating from where she’s standing. Well, he is a detective, so she’s not too shocked. “It’s simply refreshing to see you spending time with your family, despite being as busy as you are.” With a tilt of his head, he turns to Makoto. “I haven’t heard about your father for a long time.”

Makoto recoils a little, and winces. “My…father? No, wait, dad’s been gone for…It doesn’t make any sense…:

Sumire nearly startles when Makoto suddenly straightens up, gaze clouded. Akechi clicks his tongue.

“Sorry,” she says, a bit dizzily, already taking a step back. “Sae and I need to make it to the grocery store before it closes.”

Sumire waves half-heartedly and sighs when they’re gone. “Niijima-senpai perhaps had the most graceful escape so far,” she comments.

Pulling back his sleeve, Akechi peers at his watch. “It’s two pm. She could’ve done better,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame. I had high hopes for her to be the first one. She’s the only one in that circus who had more than one brain cell and isn’t named Kurusu.”

“…May I ask you something?”

“You’re already asking a question, just ask it.”

Sumire rocks back and forth on her heels. “Why do you call him that?”

“Because that’s his name?”

“Last name,” she corrects. “Why not call him by his first name?”

“What kind of question is that? Is this a test? A trial to prove that I’m willing to be honest?” Sumire stays silent. “Alright then, if it’ll help you sleep at night. I can’t possibly fathom how you still haven’t figured out that he and I aren’t as buddy-buddy as you think.”

“Well, yes, I know that but—”

“And you?”

Her heart rate skyrockets. “What about me?”

“You call him by his surname as well, even topped off with a ‘senpai’ at the end,” Akechi raises a brow. “Why not on a first name basis?”

“W-we aren’t that close!” she exclaims. “That’s reserved for people who’s close to him, like a good friend, or a girlf—boyfr—partner. We just… aren’t that.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Akechi says. “We aren’t even on a first name basis with him, yet here we are; fresh from New Year’s, running around Tokyo for his friends who should be doing this instead.”

(Sumire very nearly says it, what’s been on her mind since Maruki’s Palace. But as it stands, she doesn’t want to ruin the foundation—very unstable, can most definitely blow away with a strong gust of wind, but a foundation nonetheless—that she and Akechi reluctantly built.)

“Yes, it really is strange.”

—

AG: Are you particularly close with Okumura? YS: unfortunately not, no. i’ve heard about what happened to her father, though. Perhaps her wish is related to his passing. AG: …Yes, I believe it is. I would think that the two of them would look at ways of expanding the Big Bang business. So basically, Tokyo Hotspots. YS: kichijoji? that place is always bustling YS: not to mention, i’d love for them to open up there. their milkshakes are incredible ( ◜‿◝ )♡ AG: Good call. We’ll try there first then. AG: At any rate, it will be a very quick confrontation with her.

“So I’ve been thinking—”

“A dangerous pastime, but go on.”

Sumire huffs without heat as they traverse Kichijoji—busy even in this time of year, though in no small part because of the shrine nearby. “We’ve been doing this…” What are they doing? “Saving our known reality business for nearly a week now. It hasn’t been going the best.”

Neither of them need a reminder that their victory ratio is currently at a strong zero to six. “So maybe we need to change it up a bit! I thought up a strategy last night that I think we should implement today,” she beams up at him.

Akechi’s gaze can wither flowers. “Do you need me to explain how idiotic that sounds?”

“Oh, come on Akechi! We need all the help we can get, especially since we only have two left. Plus, you haven’t even heard the strategy. Would you like to hear it?”

She doesn’t wait for his response before eagerly pushing through. “I understand and accept that you’re a bit ruthless, which is great! Well, great if that’s who you are. And since you called me a goody two shoes that one time, I figured we can go with that.” Sumire steps in front of Akechi and raises her hands to the sky, chin tilted upwards. “We can do the ‘good guy, bad guy’ strategy! That’s what we’ve been doing anyway. It can be like Zootopia.”

A silence stretches out—Sumire’s grin unfaltering and Akechi’s perfectly blank.

Then, “What the fuck is a Zootopia?

“Did you not watch that movie? It was pretty big.”

“Do I look like someone who’d watch a documentary on the animal kingdom?” His eyes zero in on something. “Lucky us, we found them.”

Okumura Haru stands with whom Sumire can only assume is her father. The speak amicably with each other, adoration radiating off of them as they point and gesture at the various businesses around the promenade.

“Don’t forget the strategy,” she whispers.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds sarcastically.

A feeling of optimism blossoms in Sumire’s chest as they approach the Okumuras. Maybe it’s the nice weather, or it’s another opportunity to finally achieve their goal of gaining one of Akira’s allies. Mostly though, she chalks it up as relief that even though it’s far from perfect, Akechi’s finally starting to let down the drawbridge, bit by bit.

And that’s when Haru decides to look in their direction.

Instead of the initial small talk, the breadcrumbs that hint towards their other reality, instead of gently edging them to the truth, Haru had completely bypassed all of that. A feeling of deja vu tugs strangely at Sumire as she takes in her expression—the usual confusion and pained tightening of the brows, but this time, a raw, unquestionable fury morphs onto her features.

It’s a near-perfect replica of Futaba’s expression.

After a few seconds, Haru says something to her father, and they leave, leaving Akechi and Sumire mid-stride in the middle of the promenade.

Another silence reigns over them, heavy and suffocating despite the bustle of Kichijoji.

“We didn’t even need to talk to her,” Akechi says. “An efficient failure.” The silence stretches on. “You have something to say..”

Sumire shoots him a dark look. “Alley,” she says, voice uncharacteristically low. “It might upset the families if we speak rudely in front of them.”

She leads them to the backstreets, where most stores are closed until the nightlife crowd rolls in. It was empty, and only the metal shutters and stray plastic bags strewn about the pavement were present to hear them.

“Of course I have something to say,” Sumire says, fists clenched tightly at her sides. “You promised back at Leblanc. You said that you won’t withhold information from me anymore, for the sake of the mission.”

She points behind her in the direction of where the Okumura’s left. “Despite what you may like to believe, I’m not an idiot who won’t notice something as obvious as Okumura-senpai running away the second she sees you. She didn’t even speak to us before she ran, which is considerably worse than Sakura-chan.” Sumire’s eyes narrow. “What are you still hiding from me?”

Throughout her speech, Akechi didn’t even blink. “Has it occurred to you that I simply lied when I made that pesky promise to you, or are you still the same person who fell right into Maruki’s waiting hands last spring?”

Sumire recoils as if she’d been hit. “Don’t bring that up, it has nothing to do with this—”

“Doesn’t it?” his voice is cold. “Isn’t the reason why you’re so desperate for me to be open with you is that you have some sort of trust issues?”

“That’s not it.”

“Finally we’re getting somewhere,” Akechi’s red eyes seem to be glowing despite the darkness in the shadowed alley. With a sickening feeling, she realizes he’s enjoying this. “Let me take a guess. You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, an overflowing kindness that you have to act on and spread across the globe. And, if you’re simply good and lucky enough, maybe, just maybe, your beloved ‘Kurusu-senpai’ will look away from his little group long enough to see how sweet and kind you are—”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off. Her voice is slow and deliberate. “You want to know what I’m doing this for? It’s because I’m sick and tired of these hellish lies.”

Akechi stays quiet as she continues, struggling to speak while her eyes blazed with fury. “I basically just found out that I’m not who I thought I was for the past ten months. Do you know what that feels like? It’s like if someone kidnapped me, shoved me in the back of a van, blindfolded. Maruki, bless his soul, forced me to believe whatever garbage he thought was best for me. It makes me sick to think that I fell for that reality, never once did I question it.”

She clenches her jaw. “You know what I want, Akechi? It’s not the philanthropy you’re so obsessed with, or senpai’s affection. What I want is my kidnapper to fail. I want him to regret what he did to me, to stop what he’s doing to everyone else. Even if his intentions were good, I am not going to let him get away with this,” Sumire looks directly into Akechi’s eyes. “And you are not going to be the one to slow me down.”

Chest heaving, she realizes she’s breathless. After a brief pause, Akechi speaks.

“Our motivations aren’t too far off from one another,” his voice is strangely cool, as if his fury and long since dissipated from the surface and had manifested into something sharp and dangerous. “You said you’re tired of the lies? Of being used like some kind of puppet, a test subject? Of having the rug pulled from you just because someone fucking felt like it? Good. But our similarities stop there.”

He leans back against the metal gate of a closed bar. “At the root of it, you want to stop Maruki so that he doesn’t push his beliefs to anyone else. Whether you like it or not, your motivation is accidental philanthropy. I could not give less of a shit about Maruki, or Tokyo, or even the rest of this damned world. I just want to be able to live in a reality where I get to choose what I want to do.”

“So let me help you!” she exclaims, frustrated. “Some detective, you are—keeping secrets isn’t going to help this situation.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? I tried to make this as easy to understand as possible, but I guess I just have to make it obvious.” Akechi straightens up and from the smirk resting on his mouth and the way his brow is lifted, condescension is simply dripping from him. Sumire refuses to recoil. “I don’t care if you want to help me. I am a selfish person who does what he wants. I’m willing to tear down anyone in my path, use anyone in my way, if it means that I get what I want.”

“Maybe you are!” Sumire says. “A selfish person, I mean.”

Akechi blinks, and throws his head back, loud laughter echoing through the alley. “‘Maybe I am?’” He laughs again, nearly doubling over. When he sobers up a bit, she has to force herself not to flinch. It’s as if something had unhinged in Akechi and she’s seeing the result of that—his eyes are twinkling as his smirk stretches even further over his face; an edged grin. “Do you need an example, Yoshizawa? Proof? Citation for what I’ve done just so you can understand? Look forward to it, since you’ll learn at long last why Sakura and Okumura took one look at me and fled.”

Bending over slightly so that he’s eye-level with Sumire, he announces: “I killed Sakura Futaba’s mother and Okumura Haru’s father. I am a murderer.”

“So am I.”

Akechi stops breathing, blinking as he processes what Sumire just said. She only looks back through narrowed eyes, daring him to say something.

When he doesn’t, she relaxes a bit. “Are you in the mood for darts? Since we finished with Okumura-senpai much earlier than expected, we have some time. And besides,” Sumire brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “There’s more to discuss, and I’m not really feeling this alley anymore.”

—

“It’s different. You must know that it’s different.”

Sumire waits until she gets their darts from behind the counter. “I know.”

Darts & Billiards was never particularly full, but it was never empty either. There were a few groups, pairs, and serious soloists that filled the entire room with indecipherable chatter and the loud clack of eight-balls colliding with one another. Anything that Akechi and Sumire might talk about thankfully gets shrouded by the white noise.

“Any preferences?” she says, waving around the dart in her hands.

“701,” he says immediately. “Anything lower is child’s play.”

Sumire nods as she inputs the settings. “Kurusu-senpai said something before he went with Dr. Maruki,” she began. “He said that he was doing this for his friends—the Thieves, myself,” she glances back. “And in his words, ‘especially you.’”

“And what of it?” Akechi asks.

“I believe that Kurusu-senpai knows of your past, knows your struggles and whatever you’ve gone through. I can only guess what you’ve had to endure, and how it led you to what you did to their parents.” Sumire offers him his set of darts. “May I go first?”

Akechi nods and she takes her stance—despite everything, she’s a little nervous playing darts with someone who actually plays to win.

Sumire throws it as best she can when Akechi speaks. “Does it justify it, then? If my life was difficult enough, would you give me a pass for killing innocent people?”

“No,” she casts another dart. “It doesn’t. Nothing really justifies that.” Pinching her last dart between her fingers, she fiddles as she thinks. “But I accidentally killed my sister over my incompetence in gymnastics.”

“But that’s the difference,” Akechi waves his hand. “It wasn’t an accident that they died by my hands. I had planned it, plotted it, and accomplished it. What you did wasn’t deliberate; it was a spur of the moment decision to run into traffic.”

Sumire hurls her final dart a little harder than usual. “I didn’t say that you should be forgiven, Akechi! I mean, I still don’t forgive myself. But even if it is different, I can at least understand your sentiments a fraction better than anyone else can. Do I think that it’s fine that two people who’re the same age as us lost their parents? Of course not. It makes me ill just thinking about it.”

She walks to the board and gingerly plucks off her darts. “But if I tried to pretend that I don’t understand what you’ve done—that isn’t right, either.”

He has a thoughtful expression on his face, his darts rolling between his fingers similar to how people fidget with loose change; Sumire hadn’t even known it was possible to do that. “Interesting.”

Stepping up to the mat, Akechi tilts his body sideways, obviously practiced in the game. His expression doesn’t change when it lands on a triple twenty.

“Do you regret it?”

His hand is steady as he throws—another triple twenty. “The murders? It depends.”

“On?”

“Do I regret being caught, used, and humiliated by losers who I thought were beneath me? Yes. Do I regret ending the lives of many?” casting his third dart, it lands so close to the others that they wobble in unison. “No. Not really.”

Sumire’s next round was a silent one, Akechi’s confession playing on repeat in her mind. He had simply said it with no hesitation; his tenor hadn’t changed, posture didn’t shift. The words that flowed out of him had no emotion whatsoever—they were clinical, like a doctor stating the facts to a terminal patient.

The ongoing background noise paid no mind to their silence, stuck in its blissful ignorance despite the pair’s topics. If there’s one guarantee in this world, it’s that it’s extremely likely that no one will listen just as the conversation is getting important.

Akechi’s on his second turn when he says, “You took well to the fact that I’ve killed in cold blood.”

“I knew that you were hiding something,” she says. “It’s because of how you act. You were a little cruel back in the Palace, and while it’s no excuse, people who have…” she scratches her head. “A hardened heart usually has a nasty past, and what Kurusu-senpai said only confirmed it.”

No matter how many times he does it, Sumire still gets impressed by his casual triple twenty.

Swapping places with him, she closes one eye as she ponders over her strategy. “But despite the fact that you’re a ruthless sort of person—” her dart sails forward and sticks to the board. “I’m willing to look past it if it means we can change reality.” Sumire cocks her head at him. “Can you?”

Akechi stays silent as Sumire launches another dart—one more and they can win it. “Selfish is what we call ourselves, right?” she says. “That we’re only in it for yourselves, regardless of what happens to everyone else. If we work together and it raises the odds of getting what we want, doesn’t that still play into the fact that we’re acting for our own benefit?”

She lines herself up for the last point, and takes a deep breath. “What did you call it? Accidental philanthropy?” she throws her dart and watches as it curves beautifully—only for it to miss her mark by quarter-inch. “Oh no!”

“Accidental philanthropy…” he muses, indifferent to their loss. “That doesn’t sound half-bad.”

Sumire raises her eyebrows, skeptical. “Really?”

“I know that my past actions may have dictated our failure to some extent. That was my fault,” Akechi crosses his arms. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Maybe she was too forgiving, or too trusting, or maybe it’s the closest she’ll get as an apology out of Akechi, but she finds herself nodding. “That’s all I wanted.”

He moves to put on his coat. “Was it to your satisfaction?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve wanted to talk even before we discovered Maruki’s schemes,” he shoves his arms through his coat sleeves. “Are you satisfied”

“Pretty much,” Sumire nods. “I understand you much better than before, at least.”

Collecting his darts, he heads to the register. “Why do you want to understand?”

“…Because I’m curious. You changed so abruptly, I didn’t even know who you were anymore—not that I did to begin with. Not to mention, the people Kurusu-senpai knows are always interesting, and you’re definitely not an exception.”

Akechi turns, and from the doubt on his features, he doesn’t take the bait.

“Fine. That wasn’t a lie, though. I just…” she hesitates, and decides to throw caution to the wind. “I want to get to know my teammate better.”

Anything could’ve happened in that beat of silence, much to the ignorance of the loitering patrons.

“See,” he replies. “Now that I can believe. And here I thought I was the only one who needed to practice honesty more.”

He walks back to register. “I’ll handle the bill. Call it a repaying of debts, in a way.”

“For what?”

“That’s what teammates do, don’t they?”

Sumire feels herself smile widely. It had only taken about six days, their entire reality shifting, and a busted game of darts, but it finally feels like she and Akechi are fighting the same battle.

—

AG: If it all goes to plan, we should’ve at least been able to convince one of them AG: As much as it truly pains me to say it, putting our faith in them is our best chance at success. AG: Worse comes to worst, there’s a reason why we’re making him the last one to convince. He’s our trump card. YS: you mean sakamoto-senpai? AG: Ugh, don’t make me say it.

According to Akechi’s knowledge of Ryuji’s whereabouts (as unhappy as he was to recite it), there are two places that he frequents—the arcade in Shibuya or loitering around Shujin.

The arcade was full of random teens and pre-teens, all deeply invested in games that Sumire had never taken up but Akechi was apparently knowledgeable in (“Good practice,” he had replied when she asked, and she opted not to pry any further).

The two had hopped back on the train to Aoyama-Itchome, forced to stand as life resumes back to normalcy post-holidays. Despite the tight fit of the car, Akechi had placed a good amount of space between them—whether it’s for his sake or hers, she can appreciate the gesture.

The morning was a strange one. Ever since their darts game and impromptu heart-to-heart, the atmosphere between them had shifted. It’s still a few miles off from being friendly, but it’s easier now; there’s an unspoken understanding between them, a common goal that drives them forward.

Still, it would’ve been nice if they had gotten their act together prior to meeting with their last Phantom Thief.

“By the way,” Akechi says, and Sumire’s eyes flicker up at him in interest. They had been silent since they stepped on the train. “In the acknowledgement of…team spirit,” his lips curled, unable to keep the mocking out of his words at such a ridiculous concept. “I should let you know that I’ve spoken to Sakamoto.”

“Oh.” She can’t seem to muster up any shock. “When? Did you plan it?”

“A few days ago, and no, it was by chance,” his eyes narrowed. “Did you speak to Sakamoto?”

“Not on purpose!” Sumire defends, shifting her sweaty grip on the plastic handle. “He just happened to be there.”

“He seems to have a knack for that,” Akechi says, and Sumire doesn’t comment on the strange quality of his voice—bitterness? “Well? Anything worth repeating?”

“Uh…” she racks her brain. Somehow, she doesn’t think that Ryuji’s blow by blow of the new shounen manga was what Akechi’s looking for. “Nothing in particular. Oh! He spoke quite a bit about Kurusu-senpai, but that’s not too surprising, considering his wish and all.” ‘Quite a bit’ might be a bit of an understatement.

He squints at her. “Whose wish?”

“Kurusu-senpai’s? Obviously Sakamoto-senpai would still be affected since he’s directly tied Kurusu-senpai’s wish.”

His stare doesn’t relent. “Why on earth would Kurusu’s wish still be affecting Sakamoto? He already broke free of the fake reality, meaning that Sakamoto isn’t affected by Kurusu’s wish,” says Akechi. “The idiot has his own wish. Did you not know?”

Sumire would describe herself as a person with a decent amount of pride, but an obvious fact like that has heat rushing to her cheeks. She ignores him and instead asks, “Did you figure out his real wish?”

“On a technicality, no. Though I have a rather strong hunch on what it is, based on my interaction with him,” he cringes a bit when the train rocks someone into him. “It’s likely that his wish may be the exact as Kurusu’s.”

“As in…” she blinks. “He wished to be with senpai?”

“It’s possible. Disgusting, how desperate they are to bring something to fruition that could easily be done without the Metaverse.” And he adds, “Your conclusion wasn’t too far off.”

“Wow,” as articulate as it was, it was really all she could say about his observation. It sounds like an impossibility; having two people wish for each other, like some cheesy rom-com but with way more monsters and magic. Yet it makes sense—the way Ryuji spoke of Akira like he put up the moon, with a feeling of undeniable admiration and respect sandwiched between friendly jabs at him. It sounds like an impossibility, she realizes, because it probably is one. It would take something as insane as the Metaverse to create something as equally improbable as their level of requited love.

The speaker overhead announces their station and they both exit with no small amount of polite shoving.

It’s a short walk from Aoyama to the school, a route familiar enough to Sumire that she can probably traverse it with her eyes closed.

“Do you know where in Shujin he might be?” Akechi asks, and belatedly she realizes she hasn’t given him any indication for where to go. Not that it was a problem—for someone who doesn’t go here, he seems to know the path just as well as she does. “Is the school even open?”

“It should be fine,” Sumire says. “The grounds, maybe? Actually, the track is probably our best shot, since he goes for a run pretty often.”

A beat passes.

“How often?” he asks slowly.

“Um—” she spots a familiar patch of bleached hair. “Look, there he is! It looks like he’s talking to…is that the track team?”

Akechi hums. “Is it, now?”

“Pipe down, dumbass!” Even half a block down, Ryuji’s voice rings loud and clear. “I’m only tryin’ my best so you guys don’t laugh me—oh, no effin’ way. Yoshizawa! Akechi! Sorry, gimme a sec,” he calls back to the others as he half-jogs towards them.

“I knew it,” Akechi mutters.

“Huh?” she asks.

“His leg. He isn’t limping.”

Sumire’s brow creases. She’s about to ask Akechi to clarify when it dawns on her:

Kamoshida had explained to her (in full, descriptive, unhesitating detail) about the delinquent students that roamed the walls of Shujin, there was one in particular he had a special hatred for—Sakamoto Ryuji. Rumors had done little to reveal the truth of his declaration, but a single conversation with Ryuji had cleared away any possibility that he was the type for unnecessary violence.

However, there is one truth that came from every lie that was spread about him; his leg has been damaged to the point where professional running is no longer a possibility.

Ryuji approaches them, smiling and limp-free.

Which means—

“What’s up?” he asks. Just like when Sumire saw him before, Ryuji is donned in the standard school P.E track pants (red and white and cuffed at the bottom). It didn’t mean much to her then. “Whatcha doin’ here, Akechi? You transferring schools, or something?”

In all of ten seconds, Ryuji had proved them wrong without even knowing it.

“I was here to pick up a few books from the library when I bumped into him,” she lies for the both of them. “And you, senpai?”

Ryuji takes a step back, shocked. “Damn! You’re makin’ the rest of us look bad. Nah, the track guys just forced me to hangout with them to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah, uh,” sneakers scuffing the concrete, Ryuji turns a light shade of pink when he admits, “The school might’ve let slip that there’s some colleges that might be scouting after me after my last meet.”

Even Akechi looked a little impressed. “That’s no small feat.”

“That’s incredible, senpai!” Sumire cries, unable to hold herself back. “That’s—that’s huge! Bigger than huge, it’s being scouted! Do you know how cool that is? Of course you do, you’re the one who got scouted!”

She throws both her hands up to the sky and Ryuji slaps them, the pleasant echo resounds through the alley and leaves them both shaking out their palms.

“Thanks,” Ryuji grins. “But don’t get too excited. It ain’t confirmed or anything,” he tries to keep the elation out of his voice and fails miserably. “I’m just so dang happy cause that means things’ll be easier for my mom down the line, y’know?”

It’s like a slap to the face, a jolt that sends her crash landing back to reality. Because she isn’t here to congratulate Ryuji for his success—she’s here to take that away from him. Not for the first time, she wonders if they should be doing this.

Then she recalls the painful but relieving feeling of getting her own memories back. Yoshizawa Sumire back. She recalls the boy beside her who’d do quite literally anything to get rid of this reality. She recalls a busy street, blood pooling on the concrete.

Sumire focuses. If not for herself, or for Akechi, then she’d focus for Kasumi.

“I’m happy for you,” she says, meaning every word. “How did Kurusu-senpai react?”

“Oh, that guy? I haven’t told him yet, so let’s keep it between us, y’know what I’m sayin’?” Ryuji goes for a wink, though it’s definitely closer to a blink.

Akechi coughs. “Is there a reason you haven’t told him yet? You both are quite…close, after all.”

“He’s been tough to contact the past week,” Ryuji shrugs, and neither of them mention that working with a Palace ruler probably consumes a good chunk of one’s leisure time. “I really wanna surprise him, though! Considering that he supported me more than anyone when it comes to track.”

“That’s kind of him,” says Akechi.

“Well, yeah. Both of us had to deal with Kamoshida toge…ther…” he seemed to listen to what he was saying, and stops abruptly. Any excitement that was on his face is wiped clean. Finally.

“How did you deal with Kamoshida together?” Akechi asks slowly. They had to be careful—this is their last shot.

“It, uh,” he purses his lips. “It was an accident at first, I think. Didn’t mean to.” Eyes sliding shut, he mutters, mostly to himself. “It was raining, I remember that. So why can’t I…?”

The two of them lean forward unconsciously as they gauge Ryuji’s reaction.

“You’ve got this, Sakamoto-senpai,” Sumire prompts gently.

It isn’t too different from watching someone do a math problem and seeing them do one, tiny thing wrong; seeing that tiny mistake being overlooked, even though it’s so obvious to the observer. He is so close, one breath away from—

“Sakamoto!”

Ryuji jerks, eyes flinging open and her heart sinks, irritation blossoming towards this random athlete who unknowingly jeopardized their known reality.

“Uh, yeah!” he calls back, shaking his head as if ridding himself of a bad dream. “Be there in a sec!”

“If that pesky runner is in Mementos, I swear he’ll be dead by tomorrow,” Akechi mummers darkly, because he always takes things too far.

“Sorry, gotta bail,” Ryuji apologizes. He still looks slightly unsettled, a little unnerved. “It was good to see you. We should grab some food sometime!”

“Wait!” Sumire blurts out before he can leave. She scrambles for something to say, finding the thought of their failure unbearable. “If—if you change your mind (or start to remember), we’ll both be in Odaiba tomorrow! At the stadium, to be exact,” she tries for a reassuring smile. “You were there in the summer, remember?”

“If I change my mind…?” he repeats, blinking. “Nah, you guys are wild. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but thanks for the invite. Later!”

He throws double peace signs up before joining his track mates once more, laughing and shoving each other in a way only teenage boys can pull off.

“An outstanding zero to seven loss,” Akechi dictates with a dead voice. “What a team we make. I’m floored.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice!” Sumire exclaims, slapping her hand to her forehead. “I literally saw him running, and I didn’t put the pieces together.”

He shakes his head. “How are you focusing on his wish?” Akechi asks, leaning against the stone pillar near him. “It doesn’t matter what his wish is. The point is, we lost. We wasted this week, and we don’t have a choice other than to confront Kurusu alone.”

“You forgot about the whole point of our plan, Akechi. Just because his friends didn’t realize the truth right away, doesn’t mean they won’t.”

“They probably won’t.”

“We’ll just have to see, then. If Kurusu-senpai has one talent, it’s his natural…thing, with people. You get what I mean, right?”

“No.”

“Liar. And hey!” Sumire gives him a pointed look. “You aren’t doing this alone! We’re working together—like two peas in a pod.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten our oath of team spirit. But still, that doesn’t change the fact that with the combined powers of Maruki and Kurusu, we’re as good as dead,” he says, and pauses. “Unless Maruki isn’t there.”

Sumire frowns, “Even if we could, I don’t think we should kidnap a doctor.”

“I meant that he might willingly not be there. He’s quite democratic and trusting—I can see that he might leave this in Kurusu’s hands. Don’t be fooled, though. If Kurusu wanted us gone, we probably would be.”

“I can’t imagine that he would ever do something like that.” The idea of Akira using his powers in that way… she doesn’t even want to indulge in the thought.

“He won’t,” Akechi agrees. “He never shoots to kill when it comes to real people,” he sighs. “A weakness on his part.”

“But you’re still saying that we should fight senpai. Fight Kurusu Akira.”

“I’m saying we should beat some sense into him. Convince him like we tried to convince all of his little gremlins, except we succeed this time around,” his face pinches together, as if he had something sour. “It’s not as if we have a choice.”

She hesitates, despite knowing that Akechi’s right. He scoffs at her. “Worried about scratching up the pretty boy? Trust me—we couldn’t finish him off even if we tried.”

It’s a little worrying to see how sure he is that Akira is apparently very difficult to murder. “Fine,” Sumire relents. “But I’m still going to hope for the best with his friends.”

“Then I’ll prepare for the worst, as per usual.”

A water droplet hits Sumire’s cheek, startling her. She looks up to be greeted by dark clouds.

“It’s raining.”

“I suppose we should rest for today, considering what we’re up against.”

“Hold on,” Sumire says, feeling bold. “The Metaverse—I’m still a little unsure about all that but bear with me—is about the strength of the heart and cognition, right?”

“Yes?” he nods at her in a go on manner.

“So, hypothetically, if we got some…cognition strengthening breakfast food together—”

“No.”

“I think it would be beneficial to us!” she says. It really did seem like a good idea when she first thought it up, but she really should’ve expected the resistance that comes with it; Akechi seems to hate the notion of fun. “The way you looked at my plate from back then is still stuck in by brain on loop—”

“That look is called disgust—”

“It would be really fun! Or um, not fun, but advantageous to the strength of our—our Personas?”

She’s grasping at straws, but optimism is one of her better traits. Still, Akechi’s withering glare is proving to be a tough foe. Sumire’s not going to back down, though. Whether she wanted it to happen or not, she finds herself liking his company more and more despite his thorns (many, many thorns).

Sumire couldn’t help but break out into a grin when Akechi speaks, voice void of any emotion:

“I’m picking this time. IHOP is an abomination.”

—

She didn’t think that hole-in-the-wall breakfast cafes existed, and if she did, she most definitely never would’ve guessed that Akechi would be leading her to one.

Laughing out loud at the situation would grant her a death wish through Loki, but it’s impossible not to. The light pastel shades of the cafe are comically paradoxical to Akechi’s eternal conniving expression and tone, yet the employees seem to light up when he enters and even greet him by name.

He orders without even looking at the menu and she decides to get two of whatever he’s getting; partly because she has no idea what to get, mostly out of curiosity.

They seat themselves in one of the frilly booths and once the food arrives, she has to physically stop herself from drooling.The three tall stacks of pancakes were steaming, thick, fluffy, and perfectly golden brown. The neapolitan ice cream was placed precariously on top, slowly melting and all completely drizzled in chocolate and strawberry syrup. Akechi almost looks like he wants to tell her that it physically isn’t possible to fit both stacks inside of her, but she’s already halfway through her first stack by the time he eats a forkful.

Unable to hold back, Sumire brings up his comment from back when they all went to the Kichijoji cafe with Akira.

“Oh, that?” Akechi reaches over to grab the syrup bottle. “I said I didn’t like sweet bread. Sweets are, in and of itself,” he pours an alarming amount of strawberry syrup on his plate. “Not bad.”

The conversation is light—none of the darker topics that were present during their darts game. Sumire hesitatingly asks him what it’s like to work with the police as a detective. She wasn’t expecting a detailed point-by-point explanation about the cops being the most ‘incompetent people who have ever wielded any amount of power, and yes I’m counting Mona in his normal cat form.’

In turn, Akechi seems genuinely interested in Sumire’s athletic career, wondering if her skills help her fight in the Metaverse.

Eventually, they even start talking about more mundane topics; clubs that they might have been participating in (“Gymnastics, obviously” and “Detective work if that counts, but not so much anymore”), what Akechi’s high school is like (“Boring, but I get excused often enough that it makes it bearable”), if they’re on social media much (“Yes! But my smartphone can barely open up any apps” and “I have a phone number and an email—that should be enough”).

Despite Akechi’s ever-present clipped comments, Sumire has to admit that this was all a nice change of pace. She’s having fun, sitting here, eating pancakes and talking. And if his replies were getting less snippy and more talky, maybe he’s feeling the same way.

Even if it’s only for an afternoon, even if they have to fight their counselor who now apparently controls reality, even if they have to fight Kurusu Akira—

It’s nice to just act like two teenagers with a sweet tooth for a day.

—

It’s just as cold as it was a week ago.

They’ve already been transformed into their Metaverse customers, and it’s blessedly warmer near the elevator than it is on the outskirts. None of that matters though; not with them standing in front of Maruki’s Palace once again.

“It has a certain beauty,” Sumire comments. “The Palace.”

“It’s a safety hazard, is what it is. Realistically, these would all crumble like tissue paper without Maruki holding it all up.”

“Still,” the abnormal swirls and teetering light fixtures possess a charm that she finds lovely in it’s own way. “I can admire it for what it is.”

Akechi nods at the elevator, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait.”

He stops. “What?”

“Kurusu-senpai gave sort of a battle plan before we went in,” Sumire reminded him. “Do you have one?”

“Hit him harder than he hits you,” Akechi pulls out his serrated steel, reflecting the light of the entrance hall. “Other than that, don’t die, and don’t fall behind.”

All things considered, it isn’t the worst pep talk she’s ever heard.

They start off to the depths of the Palace. The journey to see Akira is different without him present, but it’s as if the shadows are purposefully less aggressive with them—whether it’s because Maruki wants them to get there safely or what, but it lets them traverse through the lab with a fair amount of ease.

An announcement rings through the grand halls. “VIP patients identified. We will now begin the grand tour—please head to the auditorium through the door on your left.”

Definitely Maruki, then.

“How kind of them to politely inform us of their location,” Akechi remarks, and they head further inward.

They pass by what looks like research centres—powerpoints plastered by pie charts and numbers, shadows giving lectures on cognition (which is a strange sight to see), brain scan posters and lab coats strewn about. Sumire imagines that this might be what a university would look like in amidst of organized chaos.

Turning the corner, a double-door awaits them.

“Alright,” Sumire steels herself, hand finding her rapier’s hilt. “I hope senpai’s ready for us.”

“Trust me,” he reaches out to grab the handle. “He will be.”

A hallway meets them when they pass through. A long, white staircase elegantly leads them down and into what looks like a small version of a football stadium—seats filled up with faceless shadows and unlit theatre lights are hung from the beams above. Maybe it’s because this area has an uncanny resemblance to her competition venues, but she feels a tingle run down her spine: the feeling of anticipation.

They walk to the centre of it with caution, footsteps slow yet it resounding out all the same. She glances forward, squinting slightly against the darkness; a set of stairs that lead atop a stage are laid out in front of them, carpeted and plush. Ready for a performance.

Suddenly, all the lights flash on, white fluorescence blaring down on them mercilessly. Sumire and Akechi cringe against the unrelenting assault on their corneas.

“Welcome back.”

On top of the steps stood Akira, cloaked in his black Phantom Thief garb and drenched in blinding lights.

“I’m glad you two seem to be doing good. Honestly, I was a little nervous at first,” he descends the staircase, unhurried, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Looks like I was worried for nothing.”

“Worried? About us?” Akechi levels him with an incredulous look. “We aren’t the ones who are actively advocating the side of brainwashing.”

“I’m advocating the side of my friends being happy again,” he corrects firmly, turning to make eye contact with Sumire. “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that they weren’t happy, that they weren’t over the moon with euphoria. If you can tell me that, then I’ll join you in the fight against Maruki.”

Gazing into Akira’s eyes, Sumire opens her mouth, before looking away.

“That’s what I expected,” he shrugs, “It’s nice seeing them happy, right? But I’m not stupid—that won’t stop you two. You’re nearly as stubborn as I am.”

“Senpai,” she pleads. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Neither do I. But you need to get Maruki to revert reality back to what it was,” Akira adjusts his gloves, and they both tense. “And to get to him, you have to get through me.”

“He’s really not backing down, isn’t he?” she mutters, her heart rate picking up rapidly.

Akechi snarls. “The tide sooner stop washing up before he quits being a fucking idiot.”

“You guys ready?” Akira calls. His tone is light, but there’s an undeniable glint to his eyes, similar to how the edge of a knife reflects light, and spreads his arms out. “Give it all you’ve got.”

Sumire meets Akechi’s eyes, and they nod.

They had a strategy, as loose as it was; there’s strength in numbers, and for once they have the advantage—pin him down, corner him, whatever they can manage, and incapacitate him until he listens to what they have to say. While this plan would certainly be more effective with more people, two should be enough to get the job done.

The air whistles around them as they dart forward, masks burning blue.

“Give him hell, Loki!”

The monochrome trickster bursts from the cinders with its eyes dead set on Akira. He raises a heavy hand and brings down his blade, slamming into the flooring as if it was warm butter, but Akira was already gone—he had hopped away just in time, giving them a cocky little smile.

Akechi snarled and swung again, only for Akira to bend backwards as if he’s in the most crucial game of limbo in recorded history, Laevatein missing him by an inch.

Before he can straighten himself again, Sumire shouts, “Dance, Cendrillon!”

As if the bells of midnight were calling her, a woman of glass and elegance manifests, white cloak blowing back from an unknown wind. A burst of light shoots from her crystal form but Akira had expected it, turning his bend into a backwards roll, not even trying to hide his grin. She’s starting to think that he was lying to her when he said he had no history with gymnastics. Maybe once this is all done, she could introduce him to her coach.

This back and forth continues, black and white and red all clashing together without anyone finding a target at all—that is, if Akira even had a target to begin with.

It’s as maddening as it is impressive to see him dodge and parry every attack; a hop here, a tilt there. It’s almost as if he knows what they were going to do before they even did it. It’s glaringly obvious why, yet it was another simple fact they overlooked—he was their leader, the person who made sure they had two, three, four possible strategies in their back pocket going into every fight. If not to ensure victory, then he does it to make sure that each and every one of them were capable enough to keep themselves safe.

But that just makes it all the more impossible to gain the upper hand.

By the time Akira had traversed nearly half the stadium in his evasion, not a hair out of place and unperturbed, Akechi and Sumire were breathing hard.

“He has,” Sumire gasps between breaths. “No intention of hitting us.”

“Dammit,” he hisses. “He’s turning this into a stamina battle.”

“Did you guys think I’d attack?” Akira frowns. Squinting at Sumire, he rummages through his pockets and tosses something to her. She catches it on instinct and peers down at the bottle of Arginade in her hand.

“It isn’t much, but I don’t want you hurting yourselves over this. I’d, uh, give one to Akechi too, but I think he’d throw it at my head or something.”

“Thank you,” Sumire sets the bottle down gingerly. “But I don’t think I should.”

“Suit yourself.”

“He’s wasting our time,” says Akechi. He points his steel at the corridor behind Akira. “Let’s just move past and find Maruki ourselves.”

She nods and they take a step forward before—

“Come, Black Frost.”

A flash of blue and a split second is all it took for the hallway’s entrance to be completely concealed in thick ice. “If you do that though, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“That wall won’t be enough to stop Cendrillon, senpai.”

“Probably not,” Akira agrees, gloved hand touching an invisible mask. “But a week was a lot of time to mix up some Personas.”

The implication makes Sumire swallow—Akechi wasn’t exaggerating.

“We have to stop him here,” she says quietly. “Even if we got lucky and ran, there’s no way we can reach Dr. Maruki with senpai trying to catch us.

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Unfortunately. We can’t win against him in a battle of stamina, but if we move fast and hit hard enough, we can catch him off guard.” His eyes flicker at Akira watching them speak, posture relaxed. “I’ve never had to reserve energy in a fight much, so this is the best plan with what we have.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t hold back,” Akechi huffs the same time Sumire says, “Don’t kill him.”

And then they sprint forward, rapidly closing in the distance to Akira.

Akechi meets her look before they split off wordlessly, approaching their target from either side.

“Hit him hard, Loki!”

“Aid me, Cendrillon!”

Curse and bless, dark and light come at Akira like a hand of judgement, narrowly escaping by flipping backwards with one hand and throwing out the other. “Let’s go, Yoshitsune.”

And like a scene from a classic Japanese period tale, a swordsman emerges from the embers, dual-wielding Katanas in either hand. WIth an air of divinity, he slices sideways, forcing the two to jerk away.

Perhaps it’s the effect of the Metaverse, its link to cognition, but the use of words became futile beyond the calling of their Personas—she can judge what Akechi had in mind without language just as he can support her in her strikes, where to stand so they don’t get caught in each other’s crossfire.

Sumire pulls out her rapier and swipes at Akira’s torso but it’s too slow; he shifts out of the way and again to dodge Akechi’s bullets like a true Phantom Thief—as elusive and hard to catch as mist.

“You’re pulling your punches, Yoshizawa!” Akechi shouts.

“I’m not trying to kill him!” Cendrillon moves her own weapon impossibly quick, glowing lines appearing midair like a child drawing on paper, and it all bursts in unison—slicing through everything indiscriminately, yet Akira remains untouched.

“Give me some credit,” he calls, coattail swishing stylishly. “I don’t think I’m doing too bad.” Yoshitsune dashes forward, armor glinting and steel sparking as lightning shoots from his katanas, several inches to Sumire’s right. It leaves her hair filled to the brim with static.

Exhausting as their back and forth was, Akira hadn’t once attacked them directly. Even when they roll or sidestep, every movement is accounted for and he adjusts his blows in turn—close enough for them to stagger back from him, but never enough for them to be touched. The message was clear: I’d never hurt you, but there’s no chance in hell I’m letting you win, either.

Still, Sumire wipes her glistening temple as Loki brings down his blade where Akira was and into the ground, the collision forceful enough to make the stage lights above rattle. It’s beginning to be clear that it would be near impossible to maintain Akira’s pin-point accuracy, given his lack of compromise on it. His rolls are getting lethargic, backflips half-assed; whether he knew it or not, he’s beginning to slow down.

And Akechi is starting to get desperate.

Precise swings from before are losing control, wild ones taking place instead.

Akira reaches up once more. “Lend me a hand, Metatron.”

What looks like an archangel crafted during the industrial revolution bursts forth where Yoshitsune once stood, eyes filled with divinity and judgement as he launches a small army of rainbow, psychokinetic spheres around Akechi’s vicinity, but fatigue causes a slight miscalculation—one of the pink orbs barely grazes his brown hair, causing him to flinch back from shock.

It didn’t hurt, it couldn’t have hurt, but it’s the first hit the Akira had landed all day, accidental or otherwise.

A beat passes as they both freeze, and Sumire slows when she sees the expression on Akira’s face, unobstructed by his mask; all the bravado, the cockiness and boldness is gone like it was never there. In its place, a gaunt, horrified look.

“I…” he breathes, unnaturally pale. “Shit, I’m sorry. Here, just…” he starts rummaging through his pockets, hands shaking. “I know I have a bead in here somewhere, just let me—” Akira’s voice cracks. “Dammit, of course I can’t find it when I actually—why can’t I—”

Akechi takes an uneasy step backwards, overexertion threatening to take over. As if it weighs a hundred pounds, he raises an arm, red eyes disturbingly bright and dead-set on Akira.

Sumire feels her breath catch in her throat; she’s in a clear position to see it happen. Akira is still frantically looking through his stuff, an overwhelming guilt seeming to cloud his senses. Akechi, in his state of mind and body, is refusing to see the facts in favor of following his instincts—because even now, he still truly believes that Akira will remain untouched, no matter what.

Because, to Akechi, he is Kurusu Akira.

“Come, Loki!”

“Goro, wait!” Sumire cries.

Time slows down as Loki raises his blade, serrated steel exuding a curse potent enough to bring down any archangel to its knees several times over. And Akira looks up, eyes wide and dilated, but it’s too late to do anything other than take a deep breath and tense himself for the devastating blow—

Footsteps resound behind them, light and fast, and before Sumire can even turn around, a familiar voice yells out:

“I don’t fucking think so.”

Sakamoto Ryuji sprints past her and as Loki brings down his sword, stands directly in front of Akira, arms wide and acting like a barricade between him and the rest of the world.

[yourlocalenglishmajor]

Commonplace Book

Hello everyone! This is my first post on this blog, and it is going to be a project for my college English course! Feel free to read through it if you’re interested; if not, that’s okay, this is really just for my professor ^^

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Piece 1: “Big Guns, Small Dicks”

Unfortunately, this piece does not have a specific author or creator; I found it on State Street in Madison last summer. It is an anonymous piece of graffiti that speaks to the movement it was created during. For those who may be less familiar with Madison, Wisconsin, it is considered a very liberal and even leftist city, especially with how frequent and powerful the Black Lives Matter protests were. This was created during those protests, as well as hundreds of other works all along historic State Street. As ACAB - All Cops Are Bastards - protests went hand in hand (usually) with BLM protests, the phrase “Big guns, small dicks” is a jibe at the police and its racist foundations and use of excessive force.

It best relates to class through the conversations about race and equity we’ve had. Our readings have been centered around a diverse cast of authors instead of the one viewpoint of the cisgender, heterosexual white man, which is something the BLM movement also aimed to achieve. In addition, although it has not been a focal topic yet, we have talked about police brutality and how it impacts POC most; another key point of the BLM movement. Lastly, we talked about what mythic America, or the American Dream, really is, and why it is never realized for so many people. The Black Lives Matter movement is all about how the American Dream is something almost no one can truly achieve, and how it leads to othering and a sense of disillusionment with the effectiveness of our society.

Piece 2: Vonnegut’s Slapstick

For my second piece, I chose to utilize a work of a famous satire writer to draw comparisons to our coursework. As for the image, I took a picture of the copy I own and edited it. Kurt Vonnegut’s Slapstick centers around two twins who are geniuses together, but entirely stupid on their own; they are neglected by their parents, who are a family of renown and ashamed of having deformed children. Their parents look at them as if they are to be pitied for the very nature of their existence. They use this to sneak around and live lives of luxury, continuing this ruse of being entirely stupid so that they may live as freely as possible in their circumstances. 

In this work, the children are quite literally tossed in a house and locked away to prevent others from seeing them; this is something I personally connect to the concept of silencing, which happened frequently during the BLM movement. Protesters, peaceful or not, were arrested; protests were escalated by cops far more often than by protesters, but that was generally ignored and used as a way to disregard the protests as nothing more than “riots”; large platforms such as Twitter and Instagram incorrectly labelled some posts as “misinformation”. Voices were silenced all over the internet. In addition, some white allies were not using their platforms to actually help/spread information, but were using them to spew white guilt and accomplish very little. As L. Ayu Saraswati says in her textbook Introduction to Women’s, Gender & Sexuality Studies, Interdisciplinary and Intersectional Approaches, “Guilt as a response to...racism...does very little to contribute to efforts toward social change as it recenters whiteness” (page 15), basically saying yes, these folks are speaking their mind and are at least partially aware of their privilege, but their feelings of guilt without taking action are not actually doing anything to help what they feel guilty for.

Piece 3: The Hymn to Demeter

My last selection will be an ancient work known as the Hymn to Demeter, and the version I am using is translated by Gregory Nagy. I am using this statue of Demeter and Persephone as the visual accompaniment to this analysis. This piece was originally written to be performed orally by a poet/performer as praise to Demeter. It details the kidnapping of Persephone, Demeter’s daughter, and the subsequent founding of the Cult of Demeter in the city Eleusis. 

When Persephone is first kidnapped, it is said that “she cried with a piercing voice, / Calling upon her father, the son of Kronos, the highest and the best. / But not one of the immortal ones, or of human mortals, / heard her voice” (lines 20-23). To me, this draws clear parallels with the silencing of victims of police brutality and their families. Public outrage did nothing to bring accountability to Breonna Taylor’s killers or the flawed justice system that let them get away with it. The victim’s family was silenced and the movement to convict her killers has died down since it happened almost a year ago. 

Additionally, it is later revealed to Demeter through Rhea that this kidnapping was not only endorsed by but planned by Zeus himself. As Greek households were patriarchal, it was not uncommon for a father to arrange a relationship/marriage without informing the daughter or allowing the daughter to meet her betrothed first. This endorsed act of violence can also be paralleled to the actions of the police; their brutality is actively supported by a flawed, racist justice system, just as the actions of Hades were actively supported by the all-powerful Zeus. What’s more, nobody stood up to Zeus or questioned his actions because of all the power he has, which is another perfect example of how this parallel functions.

Lastly, Demeter’s pure rage and grief is reminiscent of the rage and grief of the black mothers who lost their children to police brutality. Last semester, I attended a Theater of War performance known as “Antigone in Ferguson”, and after the performance was over, there was a discussion led by a panel of educators and victims of police brutality. Several of them were mothers who told painful stories of how their children, usually sons, were murdered and how they are still trying to find a way to keep living. Their powerful grief is parallel to Demeter’s; the only difference is that Demeter gets her child back.

A Meta-Commentary

My process in finding these works and deciding which would draw the best parallels was to find a bunch of subjects I thought would work well and then cut down on them. I knew the “big guns, small dicks” would be included for sure, as it was an image I took myself and had good parallels to draw right off the bat. It’s a good way to catch someone’s attention! And the message is powerful. Seeing all the graffiti on State Street last summer was impactful, but this simple phrase stood out to me and was (I believe) the only picture I took out of all the graffiti down there. The Kurt Vonnegut work I included because I like the comparison between how the twins are treated in the book and how folks who were active and open about their opinions were silenced; also, I’d be lying if I failed to mention that part of the reason is because I adore Kurt Vonnegut and wanted to find a way to bring a work of his into this. My third choice, the Hymn to Demeter, was chosen because it’s a cool way to connect one of my other classes to this one. In addition, it’s a good piece to reinterpret as an allegory for how the justice system enables the wrong people and fails the right ones.

Also, although I did not choose many direct quotes, I think the parallels I drew between the content of these works is substantial! I put a lot of thought into how I worded things and what content actually related best to the works of this class, specifically the themes we’ve discovered so far in Claudia Rankine’s Citizen. The heaviness of the book relates well to the power behind each of these pieces, especially the first one, as the message is plain and simple but impactful. The prose and structure of Rankine’s work is incredibly unique and not directly paralleled in any of the pieces I chose; however, the Hymn to Demeter is written in a very specific structure that is almost poetry? It’s a very confusing structure, because it does not seem to have any meter or consistency, but is still patterned in a specific way. This may be a result of translation, it may have been intentionally created this way by the original writer (who is not known; the transcript of this hymn was found in a stable in Moscow in 1777), or it could be a byproduct of the format itself as a hymn. The repetition Rankine takes advantage of in Citizen is actually something Vonnegut is known for as well. Several of his works have anaphoric phrases; Slaughterhouse V has both “po-tee-weet” and “and so it goes”, and Slapstick has the comedic “hi-ho”, used as a way to break the tension of the work, as it is supposed to be satire. This repetition and the more casual grammar these authors both share give their works a heavy feeling (cut far more frequently in Vonnegut’s than in Rankine’s) that also works as a conversational element, making both of the works feel like the audience is also in the narrative itself.

Commonplacing is a valuable step in making powerful literature more accessible to people! Providing unique and interesting analysis of a work makes it much easier for people to casually consume! Additionally, using platforms like Tumblr for this analysis makes things even more accessible, as anyone can see it and Tumblr allows posts to be any length! Opening thoughtful literature and analysis to the public like this also allows for good, guided conversation on a variety of subjects, and creates interest for the works in their entirety. This can easily inspire people to pick up a copy of their own of any of these works if someone is interested enough in how these can be interpreted! (If any of you are interested in the Hymn to Demeter, I used the one found at this website , it’s free ^-^)

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A big thank you to any of you who read this all the way through (including you, professor)! I’ll be doing more fun and less serious literary analysis on this account as well, so if that’s something you’re interested in, stay tuned!

[my-name-is-alice-ayers]

Chaos Theory pt 2

When the man had finished explaining, Charles let out a sigh, this had been a tolling day and it was barely lunch time. Piecing this together had been trying emotionally and even mentally for the three of them (four if you count Logan), “So you're saying... they took Raven's power, and what? They weaponized it?" Charles asked sitting up as he rubbed his hands over his face.

"Yep,” Logan nodded.

“She is unique." Hank spoke up, for the first time since they had entered the study, choosing his words cautiously as you sat in the window seat cross legged, a ball of the tension. For some reason sitting by the window seemed calming, until you heard what Logan had to say, now you contemplated jumping from the window.

“Yeah, she is, Hank,” Charles sighed looking over to you as you rolled your eyes, failing to agree with them.

“She’s a menace, sorry Charles, but she’s reckless and I always said she was going to get us all killed,” you pointed out.

Logan adjusted himself in the chair, as he began telling them more details of the future, “In the beginning the Sentinels were just targeting mutants, then they began to identify the genetics in non-mutants who'd eventually have mutant children or grandchildren. Then they started targeting everybody. Many of the humans tried to help us, it was a slaughter. Leaving only the worst of humanity in charge.”

You rose giving in to pour yourself a real drink as you watched Charles walk over to the other couch and sink in to the cushions next to Hank.

Logan continued, “I've been in a lot of wars, I've never seen anything like this. And it all starts with HER."

“Shocker,” you whispered under your breath, Logan raised an eyebrow at you making your cheeks flush again.

“Let's just say for the sake of... the sake, that I choose to believe you...” Charles spoke carefully glancing at you awaiting a reaction, “that I choose to help you. Raven won't listen to me. Her heat and soul belong to someone else now."

You felt it all over again, the emptiness that Erik had left inside of you. You felt all of their eyes on you as you bit your bottom lip staring at the ceiling to try and keep it all together. You closed your eyes trying to count slowly in your head (something Erik had actually taught you as a calming technique which in reality enraged you more), you could feel your emotions radiating off you like a heat wave, the tension in the room rising.

“Chloe, take a breath,” Hank spoke slowly. The more out of control your powers were the more it drove out other mutants. Even Logan shifted feeling his claws trying to break from the skin of his knuckles. Charles could even hear whispers of voices, returning as your pain amplified everything.

You shook your head closing your eyes as tears streamed down your face, your shoulders tensing as you gripped the molding on the counter, “She took everything...” you practically growled at them.

"Chloe, I know...and you’re going to hate me for this but that's why we're gonna need Magneto, too." Logan spoke slowly, lighting a cigar as he watched you cautiously.

“Erik? Honestly,” Charles remarked sarcastically.

“You know where he is?” You looked up meeting Logan eyes.

“Yeah,” he sighed as if it was nothing.

Hank narrowed his eyes looking between you and Charles confused at how passive he was acting.

Charles laughed even harder, "He's where he belongs." You could feel the anger radiating off him as he stood ready to stomp off.

"You're just gonna walk out?" Logan stood now confused, he knew mentioning Erik was going to set out Chloe, but Charles he assumed would be on board.

Charles smiled,”Ooh, top marks. Like I said, you are perceptive,” he waved his glass spilling some of the contents as he walked off.

“The Professor I know would never turn his back... on someone who'd lost their path. Especially someone he loved,” Logan replied confidently.

"You know, I think I do remember you now. Yeah... We came to you a long time ago seeking your help. And I'm gonna say to you what you said to us then...Fuck off!" Charles spat back.

Logan was quick as he angrily grabbed Charles, “Listen to me, you little shit. I've come a long way, and I've watched a lot of people die. Good people. Friends. If you're gonna wallow in self-pity... and do nothing, then you're gonna watch the same thing... you understand?"

You stood up now, "Let him go,” you demanded, “You can’t walk in here and expect all of this to erase the things they have done to us..to our family.”

Logan still held Charles as he turned to you,” You think I don’t understand but I do, but none of that petty shit going on between the four of you matters right now.”

You felt like he just smacked you, "Petty?Let him go. Now,” you raised your hands energy flashing all over you fingertips and Logan backed down, listening this time, letting Charles go, causing him to stumble back.

"We all have to die sometime." Charles turned his back, walking up the stairs, back into his room.

“I told you there's no professor here,” Hank stood next to Logan his hands in his pockets as he watched Charles sulk up the stairs.

"What the hell happened to him?" Logan was told this would be hard, but he never imagined Charles in this state.

Hank looked at you, “He lost everything. Erik, Raven... his legs.... We built this school, the labs, this whole place... then, just after the first semester... the war in Vietnam got worse. Many of the teachers... and older students were drafted. It broke him. He retreated himself. I wanted to help, do something... so I designed a serum to treat his spine... derived from the same formula that helps me control my mutation. I take just enough to keep myself balanced... but he takes too much. I tried easing him back... but he just couldn't bear the pain, the voices. The treatment gives him his legs... but its not enough. He's... He's just lost too much."

“Hank can you give us a moment,” you cleared your throat, signaling towards you and Logan. You had to admit your curiosity after all this was definitely piqued and you knew one extremely dangerous way to get to the bottom of it.

“I’m going to go check on Charles, don’t kill him Chlo,” Hank teased smiling at you as he walked out of Charles office, heading for the stairs.

“Can I see?” You leaned against the desk, your hands in front of you almost reaching for him.

“Excuse me?” Logan asked.

“You say you’re from the future, I want to see...whatever I can. Charles doesn’t have his powers but as you can see mine are in full force, it works better if it I have your cooperation,” you stated plainly as Logan walked over to you slowly.

“I have don’t this with you in a while...” Logan began stopping mid sentence, he hadn’t don’t this with you ever at this point. By the time you two met you had a much better control of your powers and you often spoke of this time as just a vague memory. Usually you two were in a more compromising position when you read his mind and he had a feeling that wasn’t what you were suggesting.

You didn’t have to read his mind to know what he was thinking, your cheeks flushed pink, “So in the future my power works the same, the more...intimate I am with someone the more I can feel or see,” you asked trying to piece it together. Logan nodded as he stood in front of you. “You say you know how I feel, but is that really true?”

“Yes, I’ve felt that heartbreak before, but it was an older wound, I supposed this might hurt more,” he pointed to your heart before he moved his hands over yours slowly as your fingers curled around his palms.

Your eyes flashed crimson as you locked into Logan, the memories were fuzzy but you could see bits and pieces, fragments of his past life...you could feel anger building inside him as he grew Into a man...but you were barely touching the surface.

“I can take it, just let go,” Logan muttered through clenched teeth as he braced himself.

You took a deep breath, letting ribbons of light come from your hands holding him in place, as you tip toed up to reach him. Your ran your hands over his beard, sliding them into his dark hair as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then it hit you like an earthquake.

You felt the full force of him past present and future, like a ton of bricks. If Logan hadn’t of moved to hold you up, you would have collapsed, your knees going weak. He had definitely been telling the truth, about Hank...about everything and even your future relationship.

You broke away from his grasp, coughing as you tried to catch your breath, falling against the desk, “Bloody Hell...”

“Did I hurt you?” Logan asked inspecting your body closely, there had been times his claws came out when you did this, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

“I really thought you might be lying,” you held your throat, your pulse pounding against your fingers, “I’m so sorry Logan...” you closed your eyes trying to erase fifty years of chaos from your brain.

“You don’t have to apologize, we can change it... all of it...but we’re going to have to do it together,” Logan soothed.

“I don’t know if I can face them,” you cried, “it seems so...so human to be this weak...you’re right it’s petty...”

“Erik loves you, I know he can be an asshole, but one thing that he never stopped doing was pinning after you and fighting for you,” Logan smiled as your heart finally settled.

Charles walked back into the study, his voice slightly uneasy, “I'll help you get her. Not for any of your future shit, but for her."

“Fair enough." Logan nodded towards you, “I can’t get Erik without you, you saw that.”

“I'll tell you this, friend. You don't know Erik. That man is a monster. A murderer. A man who abandoned his family. You think you can convince Raven to change? To come home? That's splendid. But what makes you think you can change him?"

"I know I can’t, but SHE can,” he pointed at Chloe, “and because you and Erik sent me back together." He looked back at Charles and you wished he’d had his powers to see just a glimpse of what you had felt.

Charles jaw almost dropped as he looked at you, at a time that all four of you couldn’t be further apart, how the hell was that possible.

Logan turned to Chloe, "And they said you were the only one who could find a way to break through to Erik, and I think now you see that is true, Chloe. It’s going to take you and Charles to bring Erik back on our side."

“Oh this ought to be good,” Hank sighed.

[logansmessy]

Can we stop splitting up the ‘gifted’ and ‘stupid’ kids. Like I can remember almost nothing because I got such good grades before high school that literally no one checked in to make sure I knew what was going on, leaving me till last, not letting me ask questions because clearly I should know this shit, right? Then high school came and I wasn’t prepared. All the kids that were called dumb and stupid do better than me because teacher gave them time and effort to make sure they do better, let them achieve more, make sure they know what’s going on. All the kids that got put into ‘special’ classes are the same way as me but that’s because their teachers saw them as worthless and will never go anywhere so they didn’t give them attention and time (and every kid is different this is just what I’ve seen and gone through).

What I’m trying to say is, give every kid the same attention, more if they need it. Make sure every kid actually knows what’s going on before you dismiss them. It’s a lot of work, yeah, but that’s your job. To teach kids, make sure they comprehend what’s being taught. Because I may be bomb ass at Shakespeare, but that isn’t going to help me with the math I failed twice and the biology I failed once because no one in middle school or early high school gave me the proper attention I needed to succeed. And even still I’m going to class to redo those courses to do better, clearly being failed by my teachers before by not giving me attention (as I have told the teachers), just to go again through the same pain of not getting help I need, throwing a name on me but instead it’s not ‘gifted’ it’s ‘stupid’ ‘unfocused’ ‘lazy’. I’m not lazy. I’m dealing with the realization that I don’t understand this shit and all you care about is the actual smart kids rather than those struggling.

Not every teacher is like this, I’ve had amazing teachers, the ones I’m talking about are the ones that made me cry because I don’t know what’s happening and they won’t take the time to even start to understand why I can’t focus in their class. Instead they critize me in front of the whole class and make it known that I’m fucking failing because of a school system that failed me years ago. Because of adults that failed me years ago. An environment that puts too much pressure on every kid to be perfect or else they’re a failure. I’ve never gotten an 100%, close but never dot on. That fell farther and farther and it’s never gotten close to an 80% halfway through a year or semester, because as my grades fall and as I study and study and work as hard as I can, all my teacher can do is tell me to figure it out when I go for help.

Yes, I could have studied more, gave a little bit more of a shit of my grades, but they started to slip so fast with such little help from those around me I no longer can be the only one to blame for it. This is not preparing me for real life. In real life I will get help when I need it in a job, if I need something explained. I can talk to people who will understand and assist me in whatever way they can. I will not be so shut out like the adults made me feel. The real world is so much more understanding than they think it is. Teachers and adults in general telling me to ‘figure it out’ does nothing but create distrust, anxiety, pain, tears, and a divide in who I think I am versus who I actually am. I’m smart, I’m so fucking smart. I know who I am, but the bullying and neglect doesn’t end with kids and family, it continues with however the teacher treats us. And it creates a big rift in how we see ourselves if people who swore they’d be there for us, are no longer there for us but are actually part of the problem.

Listen to students. Help students. Make sure your students are learning. And don’t put shit ass titles on them because those will fade, worsen, and hurt the kid more than you could ever know.

[love-loser]

cocky student tony x professor peter moved here for mobile users

Even though college was a volatile time for many, this whole higher education thing was going pretty well for Peter. Granted, he’s the one teaching the class, but still, pretty good seeing as see he was so young (25) and oh so (very) endearing, both of which helped him get along with his students.

Well, most of his students.

He never knew just how much one person could annoy him but walking into class, seeing that stupid smirk on the younger boy’s smirk, just made his coffee taste that much bitter, the junior never failing to make his day just a bit shitty, somehow.

Even more- he’d always managed to somehow know the material even though Peter was sure he was either sleeping or on his phone half the time. The Engineering professor could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d seen the brunette actually take notes. And it was already halfway into the semester. It hadn’t even caught Tony off guard when he tried to call on the boy.

What he hated the most, though, was the way Tony’s stupid, stupid, intense, dusky eyes always seemed to undress him everytime he walked into the room. The way his hands made his excessively big iPhone look tiny when he wrapped his capable fingers around it and- not to mention those same fingers that rubbed against his lips as he blatantly checked his own professor out, in class, no less. Did kids these days have no manners?

Yes, maybe Peter was exaggerating just a tiny bit–– it’s not like Tony tormented him everyday or openly harassed him, but it’s the principle of it, see. In Peter’s mind, he only has one goal when it comes to Tony Stark, aka (surprisingly) straight A student, aka genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist most annoying boy on campus.

And that goal: To put him in his place.

Peter can’t imagine what it’ll be like for the student when he gets to senior year in just half a semester–– in fact, even the very thought of Tony treating any of his teachers this way (or anyone) sends the assistant professor’s matchbox heart into insistent, restless flames.

(He chalks it up to just pure concern for his student.) Not jealousy.

Peter even writes up a list between inputting scantron grades, of why exactly he hates Tony’s guts.

Eloquently, he titles it, ❌ Tony Stark ❌.

1. Taller than me by an inch 1.5 cm.

2. Somehow knows my favourite breakfast from panera bread.

3. Always borrows notes from other people when he’s absent EVEN THOUGH HE KNOWS I HAVE COPIES BY MY DESK!

4. Wears those stupid glasses all the time.

5. Spends an average of 6 minutes after class just cleaning up, making me WAIT

6. Never pays attention in class but always sets the curves on tests.

7. Always flirts with other people outside the hall before class. (distracting!)

8.

On the eighth, Peter’s mind draws a blank. He’d thought that he could go on and on when given the chance, but maybe now isn’t the time- after all, he does only have 2 braincells left after mindlessly typing in scores.

It’s about 5:43 pm now, which probably means he should go after entering this last girl’s score and-

Done. Rarely do other professors ever stay this late, but Peter isn’t really in the mood to stick around and see. He grabs his trusty bullet journal- the one he proudly spent 2 and a half hours on in the beginning on the year, and also the one he just slandered Tony in, which, speaking of the devil- Shitshitshit, avoid him before he annoys you, Pete. It turns out his stiff, minecraft esque speedwalking in the other direction still isn’t enough to deter Tony, who looks up from his phone and calls out a nonchalant, “Hey, Mr. Parker!” Peteralmost scoffs at the sheer level of disrespect in that one line- how dare he? Who does he think he is?! At least, that’s what he sputters mentally.

Physically, the brunet is ready to embrace a thousand year nap.

Peter mentally debates whether or not to stop and give Tony the time of day, his aforementioned 2 brain cells bantering back and forth before, eventually, Tony just decides he will have a conversation with Peter, whether he likes it or not. “Hey, earth to Mister,” Tony says, suddenly in front of his face, dangerously close.

“Hi, Tony. You do know my first name isn’t mister, right? And you should be calling me Professor.” Peter says, voice scolding. “Okay, then, professor,” Tony says, though Peter knows he won’t really listen to him, “What’re you doing so late? Isn’t it past your bedtime? You need sleep to grow taller.” Well- okay, this is getting ridiculous.

“That’s no way you should be talking to your elders, much less your lecturer, Tony,” Peter reprimands, starting to walk again. Hopefully, he’ll be left alone now. Unsurprisingly, and to Peter’s horror, Tony only starts striding backwards easily, as if he’d grown up learning how to walk that way. “But you’re so young. You barely look like my elder, much less a teacher,” Tony’s eyes flicker down, then drag back up, and Peter tries not to flush at this. “That’s not to say you don’t look good, though, the opposite, really.”

Peter only scoffs at this, round eyes rolling in disbelief, a warm tinge to his cheeks to top it all off. He stops abruptly, ego puffing just a bit when Tony stumbles.

“Actually, why don’t we talk about that, Tony?” He stops just to mentally imprint Tony’s somewhat panicked expression, before continuing with an adamant, “I’ve seen the way you act in class- the way you look at me,” which sounds much more scandalous than it should be.

Peter’s voice lowers to a hush, registering that they’re still in a school building, where anyone could be listening. Trust no one, not even yourself.

“It’s not appropriate. I’m not some romantic interest for you to try to indulge in, and I’d much rather you put some of that attention to the lecture’s material instead.”

A moment passes by, then two, and Peter is still staring Tony straight in the eyes, his own hard with determination, brows furrowed.

After a pregnant pause, the student clears his throat.

“Do you wanna be?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, yeah, you’re cute professor,” Tony admits shamelessly, “Why don’t you just give me a bit of a chance? I’m not that bad, I’m actually very great.” “That’s exactly what a bad person would say,” Peter points out.

“Let me prove that I’m not, then,” Tony says. Then, his phone dings, “Well, I have to go. But I mean it, mister! Bye,” And with that, Tony bids him goodbye with a wave and a blown kiss.

Peter shudders.

Yuck.

-

What is not so yuck, though, is the next morning, is when Peter gets in at approximately 8:30 am. There’s a still toasty croissant on his desk, with a orange post it note.  

Hope you enjoy this. I was late bc i was picking it up so i just decided to skip for the whole day- TS<3 xoxo

Peter, infuriatingly, knows exactly who wrote the note, and couldn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. He’d been doing that alot lately. ‘Late picking it up so he just decided to skip the whole day over a croissant, are you kidding me,’ Peter doesn’t bother actually protesting against the innocent pastry, though, instead setting his bag down and taking it out of the pastry bag. He recognises the label- it’s from the campus coffee shop. Tony was late to class picking up food from an establishment on campus.

The kid’s gotta have a demerit, or something, because that might be going just a little too far, even for him. It’s like being late to a party you’re already at, but leave it to Tony Stark to somehow find a way.

Well, that’s too bad. There was suddenly going to be a pop quiz today.

-

Peter, later, finds that he has to reach deep inside himself to not literally slap the living shit out of Tony’s face when the boy opens the door to his lecture hall as the professor is packing up later that day.

“So you are here,” is what he says instead, eyes narrowed accusingly. He still doesn’t get why Peter doesn’t just come to class if he’s already there- are his lessons really that bad?  

“Indeed I am,” is the answer that comes, infuriatingly nonchalant. “Miss me?”

“Never,” He huffs, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Did you at least like the breakfast I got you?”

Hell yes. “No. What would be better, Stark, is if you actually attended class while you were on campus.” Then, he adds in without thought, “Especially mine.” There’s a beat of silence, the words not quite sinking in for the professor yet- it’s a different story for Tony, though. “Especially yours?” Tony asks with a grin, and the tone in his voice makes Peter immediately regret whatever he said to induce said piece of shit’s intonation. “Yes. Is there a problem?” One strong brow raises in inquiry.

“Not at all,” Tony’s stupid smile only widens, “The opposite, really.”

[honeychilialligator]

The Comfort of Strangers

Gabe's POV

The first time I saw her, it was a Saturday - most likely in the middle of September, nine months ago in a public library, four blocks away from the building that I once inhabited.

Of all things to note, the initial thing that would flash was the day - always the same day. She probably wore an average sweater, and dark skinny jeans - a style I eventually noticed. And even without the glasses, I always remembered her even back then as nerdy, introverted and of course, bookish.

It was a school research that motivated me to visit such a weary place that I couldn't imagine ever stopping-over - not because I was allergic to studying (if anything, I don't mind reading books) but because the place in itself was a bore to look at. The library was Egypt's pyramid. Historical. Old. Ancient. Pick your term. There's a helpful thesaurus inside to help you in such a predicament.

Then again, the same reason has urged me to step inside the old-fashioned site. Mr. Lanburton (not sure if I spelled his name accurately), our history teacher, had loaded us a big stack of dreadful tasks to fulfill at the end of the weekend. Surprisingly so, my memory has reclaimed the thoughts of my heavy homework, to which my class was asked to recollect important historical terms of a long list of nearby places in the vicinity of our humble locale.

It was also the first time my best friend, Google, has disappointed me terribly for failing to deliver an automatic answer to my difficulties (Apparently it was not one of those "God bless the internet" days). Unfortunately our locality and its small populace were a little unfit for specific and in-depth information about what Mr. Lanburton had required.

As tempting as it was to abandon the task at hand, my grades in that semester was not as cooperative. It took me a week to recover on an illness that got me hospitalized for days and the teachers were not very considerate. The only option left for me was to take the route to the oldest public library in town and start a customary way of active research.

The heavy creak brought from the antique wooden door entrance unsurprisingly attracted too much attention in an almost-deserted library. I met her stare as she lifted her gaze - our first contact. Yet at that moment it seemed so ordinary - so unappreciated. I couldn't recall clearly what book she was reading or how she looked at me, no matter how hard I try, but I guess that's just how I will always remember her: the girl who always has her face trained on books in the old library.

At the end of the day I was happy for having the task lifted off of my shoulders three days before the original submission, and I also recalled that my parents treated me and my four-year old little sister in an expensive restaurant outside town. My mother bought me a black jacket that I remembered wearing the next day. That specific Saturday was special in ways that I could only fully realize now.

Visits to the library were followed by more when our history teacher realized how effective it was (for him) to leave advanced schoolwork for a progressive study on our next topics. More items were given that I had to reserve extra time to the library to fulfill the task every week. The second and third time I stayed in the public library, I sat three chairs away from her and maintained the same position for the week because it was nearest to the air conditioner and I was rather comfortable. The quiet girl maintained hers just the same. Each time we were near each other I was more intrigued about the novels she was reading and how she seemed to be unfazed to her dusty surroundings with a different book each time I came. By my fifth visit, I was able to comprehend a clearer assessment on her features when I snuck in a slight glance.

Evergreen - like spring. That's how I remembered her full bright eyes. It seemed enchanting now the more I think about it, as only a few people could possess such unique detail. Her cheeks are always flushed - it must have something to do with the cold atmosphere (but later, I realized she was always like that). Her slightly-curly hazel brown hair, she always secured in a careless bun. It was curiosity that compelled me to her - a teenage girl my age who would just spend most of her time reading classic novels in the stinky dinosaur-age public library instead of going shopping or doing whatever sassy teenage girls do. Does she even go to school? Is she constantly alone if she doesn't have anyone to hang-out with? Where does she live anyway? What's in these books -these novels that got her hooked in this place? Why can't she just borrow them and bring them home to read? Why here where everything is so grubby and old, I have to stop myself from sneezing when I get too close on a dictionary?

It started as a thought, which intrigued me, and then it changed into a deep curiosity that later became a sudden interest. She was not from my university, that's for sure. I would have known. I never bothered to ask because I was uncertain on her response. It was not my forte, conversing with the opposite gender. Back then I had a mental overview on how my conversation with her would be like. I just couldn't gather enough courage to start even a casual conversation.

Scanning through old textbooks, I'd sneak in a little look at her - I don't know why I did - I always felt like even through her solemn focus on the material she was reading, I've always imagined her noticing every slight glance I pass on to her. Having her around three chairs away from me every Saturday afternoon in the library eventually turned into something natural - like a schoolmate a table away from me in our usual place in the cafeteria. Without even speaking, I guess our positions were a mutual contract. Without even knowing it, my visits and these weekly tasks no longer bothered me as much as it did at first.

Finally, I devised a plan to get her attention (it didn't sound as creepy when I thought about it before). This peculiar bookworm returns the books to its shelf and leaves the place fifteen minutes less before I could finish my research homework. On a particular Saturday in October, I took notice of the exact bookshelf location she left her novel before she stepped out of the library. Coincidentally Mr. Lanburton was kind enough to lessen our burden with simple common terms to hunt and I was able to finish the task earlier than most. I took the book out of the bookshelf five minutes after she left. I tried considering asking the elderly librarian about the name of the girl (surely she knew about her only customer in ghost town's library) but for some reason I didn't pursue it.

The moment I glanced at the cover of the book I remembered thinking: "Nicholas Sparks. Well what do you know? I guess she is a romantic at heart."

"The Choice" by Nicholas Sparks.

Reading the synopsis was my last pull to borrowing the book and bringing it home. Alas, I have also read some of his passionate collections but it was my first to encounter this specific book. I started reading that night - continued and finished it the next day. It was compelling and I was hooked. I thought about how she could be feeling the same emotions that I was sensing as I read through Spark's masterpiece, and when I am overcome with extreme emotions in the climax of the plot, I remembered how I caught her wrinkle her nose as she read through all those literary pieces as if she was dismayed by the outcome, or how a trace of a smile would form on her delicate lips for a moment at the remaining pages of her novels; all the emotions rushing out of her when she reads - I realize how she understood all kinds of sentiments organized by the author or how she paints the characters out of her beautiful imagination.

For a regular guy who sees life as a featureless routine, she was remarkable.

The next Saturday, there were no tasks to accomplish, but I returned the book to the library. When I arrived, the girl was already sitting with a different (probably about another romance) book on our usual table as I had expected. I felt her eyes follow me when I returned the book that she read. After doing so, I returned to my usual chair, took a random book on her usual bookshelf and pretended to read it - hoping she would notice me again.

The bookworm cleared her throat. Twice (in the first, I was a little too overwhelmed to hear her). "Excuse me."

"Yes?" I must have smiled like a fool back then.

"Hi," she started nervously. "I just couldn't help wondering: what genre do you usually prefer? I mean if you don't mind." Wait, British accent?

The question initially confused me, but it made me more than glad to hear her talk. I answered her in way that might have ineffectually and failingly conceal my tense and awkward self. "I-I guess I'm more into Action, Sci-Fi. Those kinds of stuff." (Not really). "And probably a little romance would do." (A guy reading a romance novel? Can't you get any weirder? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid).

"I see," she spoke out the words slowly. "Action, huh? Specifically of Sylvia Day's?"

Her tone had demanded to alert me, as I saw her look curiously on the book on my hand. I quickly turned to the cover.

"Bared to You" by Sylvia Day.

Oh.

I slammed the book shut, not daring to behold a scene of its twisted plot. Funny, how I must have looked like to her: A perverted little maniac.

That's when I heard her laugh. I was unprepared for my reaction to the most potent weapon this girl had in her arsenal - a real genuine laugh that reverberated from inside her. It was too infectious for me to resist, and on an unguarded instant, I joined in.

Of course, the librarian shushed us out of it.

"I'm sorry," she blushed - adding more color to her flushed face, and apologized to the wrinkly old librarian.

"Look, I wasn't really reading it, I mean - "(What am I getting myself into?) "I was just scan- " The girl stifled a laugh. "I didn't mean it like that, I was just...just..."(Seriously dude, stop embarrassing yourself!)

"I'm Eveline," she offered, a bright and foreign (but genuine) smile on her face and an extended hand. "You are?"

A for being attentive. I just couldn't stop embarrassing myself, could I?

"Gabriel, 'Gabe' for short" I shook her soft, dainty hand. "Nice to (finally) meet you."

"Sorry if I disturbed you." Another short laugh.

"It's fine. I wasn't really reading it," I shrugged.

"I can tell," Eveline smiled - a sparkle on her emerald eyes. "I mean I noticed you were so out of it. I didn't mean to appear so despicable."

"It's okay, really. I don't usually read novels - especially this kind."

"You're usually on research and textbooks," she added gently, and I couldn't help but grin at the thought of her noticing me.

"Schoolwork," I supplied. "My history teacher keeps giving us a big load of homework every weekend."

"Ah, I see," she nodded in understanding. I waited for her to elaborate about her high school life or at least relate to me how her history teacher could be the same terror professor, but she didn't and our conversation fell short.

"Are you always hanging around here?" I probed further.

"Only on Saturdays and sometimes on Sundays," Eve caught a stray hair and pushed it on her ear.

"Always on the same schedule?"

She nodded cheekily, "Yeah."

Her enigmatic stance put me in place and I decided not to push my luck on her privacy. "Cool."

I looked at my wristwatch and realized that I was late for my sister's little rehearsal, knowing I had to pick her up after. "It was really great to see you, but I'm done with my work here and I need to fetch my sister out of ballet class." As much as I still want to hang around...

"I understand."

"So, next Saturday then?" I said a little too hopefully.

"Of course," she smiled her gentle smile.

That night I lay on my cozy bed thinking about our hilarious - though a little ungainly, dialogue. Eveline. Witty, cute, and bashful Eveline. Even when I decided to shut my eyes, I could see a picture of her perky face in her natural glow and hear the sound of her symphonic laugh. Since that day, thoughts of her became a frequent visitor and Saturday wasn't just any ordinary Saturday. Like a refreshing holiday, I was looking forward to it.

On our next meeting, I wore a navy sweatshirt and khaki shorts - turning my charm on like a light switch untouched for decades. I smiled brightly even before I could enter the library, wanting to match hers and hoping she'd return it. Eveline would be inside, reading a romantic novel, and I hope my smile would greet her. She was still selecting a book when I came in; her face lit up as she mouthed "Hello."

Instead of going my way to proceed on my research, I watched her pick a book or two in the shelf before taking my own set of textbooks to copy information. As I derived coherent notes on my notebook, I clucked my tongue twice in a playful way of getting her attention. From the corner of my eye, I saw her glance to my direction but I pretended to be so focused on my homework. I repeated it again, louder this time to also get the old librarian's awareness. The withered old woman looked around and turned on our table, confused at my mock innocence. She shrugged a little and went back on arranging the filthy pile of old archives. From the corner of my eye, I saw Eveline smile in amusement even without her looking at me.

I purposely sped up taking down notes for research in order to catch up on Eveline on her way home. I asked permission to accompany her and I was happy that she was fine with it. She owned an average bike for transportation and her street was 2 miles away from mine. I offered to guide her bike as a friendly gesture while we talk a little until we reached my apartment building.

"You're not as behaved as I thought you are," she teased lightly.

"You mean what I did to that librarian? Well at least she has someone to watch over. A little hobby might get her rusty old brain working a little," I winked and she laughed.

We shared jokes even though they were mostly mine. I enjoyed making her laugh and smile. I began talking about myself when we started sobering up; about my family, high school, my hunky best friend named Kevin, and my favorite sport, tennis. I casually asked her about her own share of the bargain and I was more than pleased to hear her describe a little more about herself. Financial problems had caused a temporary break for her education when her father was dropped out on his business firm. She didn't talk about her plans for the future which seemed odd when I think about how much I disclosed my desired career as an architect, but I still marveled at the way she talks about her present and how she sees her life like a ready canvass. She loved her parents dearly even if they couldn't give her siblings to take care of. Eveline had a little pet dog named Sponge, and he was her only best friend.

Little facts added to my little biography of her, and each Saturday I was determined to get closer to her as I know she was a keeper for a friend. It turned into a fantastic innocent habit. When Saturday comes, I'd still stay on my usual distance and she'd read books peacefully. I'd cluck my tongue like a little check-up call and she'd smile. We'd pretend we didn't hear anything when the librarian gets irritated, and we'd squeeze ourselves to hide a laugh. But still I was afraid of annoying her on her reading with my behavior so I'd stop and sneak glances at her instead. Overtime she started whistling, a sign that she wasn't bothered about my tongue-clucking at all. The first time she tried her 'notorious' act and the librarian glared at me accusingly, I bit my tongue so bad to conceal a hideous laughter and my stomach was aching, it was so hard to breath. On our journey home, I was able to make her play "20 questions" where we take turns in interrogations about ourselves. Each new detail was a new color to add to cluster of feathers she blooms each day.

By the time we agreed to meet up on days besides Saturday, I had nicknamed her "Eve" even when her mother calls her "Lynn". On our first "friendly" date, I took her to a little café and treated her with chocolate cake that she told me was her favorite. I bought her "Papertowns", a novel written by John Green, and she was so happy and giddy that Eve kissed me tenderly on the cheek; I wasn't able to hold a blush.

Even though I was afraid to admit it, when I was with her, it seemed it was worth doing all those normal things that normal people do.

She was amazing in ways that I couldn't describe. Eve could make simple seem complex. Everything about her had a deeper sense of sentimental value. There are certain ways only she can do that could make me immeasurably happy.

Eve had suggested I meet up with her on a night of meteor showers last December. It had been my dream rendezvous. As we sat there stargazing, I had took the book that we both loved from my sling bag, "The Choice" and read a little excerpt of Nicholas Sparks, one that I intended with meaning.

"It was inevitable for people to try to create a sense of normalcy in a place where nothing was normal. It helped one get through the day, to add predictability to a life that was inherently unpredictable."

She had listened with her eyes closed, lying on the evergreen grass that sent a neon glow to her emerald eyes.

"You've been quoting my books," Eve grinned, after a long moment of observing the distant, twinkling stars.

"Sadly, you've miraculously turned me into a bookworm like you," I sighed melodramatically.

"Well I never forced you to read them," she smiled.

"But there was no other way of getting your attention," I pouted, playfully.

"There was, you're just too dumb to try it," Eve laughed.

"Name one."

"I don't know, how about just a casual 'hi!'" she muttered sarcastically and I rolled my eyes. "You could also have tried asking me what I was reading. Did I appear that stiff to you?"

"To be honest, yeah" I said teasingly.

"Dud!"

"Nerd!"

Tickle fights are the usual aftermath of our casual bullying. How we managed to get that close so fast? I have no idea.

So yeah, we rolled off our butts in the prickly grass like it was no one's business. And after we finished laughing like hyenas and sobered up, we just lied there peacefully under the stars.

"Well I'm glad you did it," she suddenly brought up.

"Did what?"

"Read the book I mean," Eve chuckled.

"How come?" I arched an eyebrow.

"I guess there was no better way to get me to trust you." (She was serious, by the way.)

"Yeah, right" I smiled. "Starting a book club, eh?"

"You're my first member," she joked and we both laughed.

"You've put me in a lot of effort for just a simple conversation," I whispered.

"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy, remember that," she quoted a memorized sentence from the book that started it all.

It was her own happiness that did the trick: in her brilliant smile, in her adorable pout, or in the way she smudges ice cream all over her mouth, or how she falls asleep with her lips slightly apart, or how she seems so vulnerable and honest and kind that it would be a difficulty to stop the urge to wrap her in your arms and protect her. She was heavenly, but earthly in that amazingly complicated way.

Yes, indeed. I, Gabriel Felix, a plain average teenage boy who couldn't appear normal and comfortable with teenage girls, was falling in love with a bookworm. At that time when I came to terms with my little crush, I surrendered and didn't fight back. I didn't have anything to lose except for our strong bond and resilient friendship (that I couldn't imagine ever giving up). But knowing Eve, I knew it wouldn't take long for her to figure out about what I really felt. Being in love, I comprehended, was not about being concerned if she could ever accept your feelings and affections. It's more engrossed on ensuring the happiness of your loved one above yours, even if that took you out of the equation.

Every time I have these insecurities in my mind when I think about confessing, I replay all the moments we spend together inside or outside the library. The way she smiled made me feel like it was mutual, and I know I had to try; Eve was worth it.

So I decided to express my intense emotions towards her on our next meeting next Saturday, in the place where it all began - our sanctuary.

That morning I put on my favorite black jacket, and styled my raven black hair with gel. In the bathroom while having my shower, there was nothing else in my mind but on what to say and how to express it without her running out the door. I was nervous even though I've made up my mind.

I read through my lines and my cheesy quotes (obviously it's from the same book), knowing she'd appreciate it. I slipped further into my own fantasies, understanding that there was a big chance of rejection, but all I cared about was being close to her, keeping her. I wanted so badly to keep her.

By then I knew, the moment I stepped inside the public library - as I saw her empty chair, that a love like this was too good to be true.

When I arrived at her address, I asked around for her and she wasn't home - none of her family was. None of her neighbors knew where they went. I went to random places - anywhere where hope could blossom. I tried the café, Borders (her favorite bookstore), the central park, but I was chasing fiction.

I never felt more drained in my entire life the moment I reached home. I attempted to call her number but only voice message replied.

Days passed, and Eveline still remained as a haunting mystery. I didn't break my visits to the library even though it was already summer vacation - hoping she'd show up with her dazzling smile on a sweater shirt and black jeans and explain how she disappeared and I'd forgive her, then she'd reassure me that she'd stay.

I've had my heart broken by love songs and I've had my own share of repetitive and agonizing travels to memory lane. Theories crossed my mind but it was worthless when there is no evidence to support them. Five times - I think - did I visit her house, only to find it empty once again.

"Do you ever do this, you think back on all the times you've had with someone and you just replay it in your head over and over again and you look for those first signs of trouble?"

Why, Nicholas, are you a psychic?

Months passed; each day was a struggle on moving on - on filling this void in my chest whenever I see her empty chair on lonely Saturdays.

My own copy of "The Choice" had been repeatedly thrown off the wall but I still had no perfect reason to hate her - even more in forgetting her. And in doing so, I've shunned myself in taking chances in romance. The harder I wanted to forget the more I kept remembering.

"But things change. People change. Change was one of the inevitable laws of nature, exacting its toll on people's lives. Mistakes are made, regrets form, and all that was left were repercussions that made something as simple as rising from the bed seem almost laborious."

I was able to memorize this stupid passage from that stupid book the day I had given up in waiting for Eve to come back. It seemed pitiful, but there were things you couldn't prevent from spilling. But then maybe I deserved this much for being too attached and for trusting too much on our "mutual" contract.

Unfortunately again for me, I didn't also deserve a "goodbye".

Time did its magic - no matter how slow. I've tried smiling again, and I went back on track with my priorities. On my next semester, I did better and passed every subject. I've tried playing sports like football and I was busier every day.

But still life has a way of proving you wrong. Three days ago, another research came up that needed public library help. The thought brought back unwanted memories that I've tried so hard to ignore but it can't be helped. At the same time, I dared myself to go through this like a test - to prove myself that I've really moved on.

So yesterday I took a step inside the ancient place, purposely in the same time that I practiced my past routine. The librarian regarded me with a look, as she bent down her spectacles to observe me. I tossed her a smile as if we were old acquaintances and I wasn't sure if she could still remember me in the way she returned my friendly greeting.

I took the same old World History textbook, and sat on my old place. Turning the pages, I was suddenly aware of the seat three chairs away from mine. I felt a familiar ache in my heart as I took down notes.

This was too much, I shouldn't have done this.

The price of going back through everything was not worth the pain. I closed the textbook wearily and decided to leave at once, when I heard it.

A whistle.

As if it was a sound of a bullet piercing through my ear, I turned around, perplexed and slightly hopeful.

The librarian was looking at me, her hand on her mouth and a smile on her pale and bony face.

"Made you turn," and she laughed (although it sounded more like a witch's cackle) "I knew that would do the trick." She motioned me towards her, and as the confused bloke as I was, I complied (It's not like she's harmful anyway).

"Your girlfriend," the librarian muttered. "She came here a week ago."

"She's not my girl - Say what?" I think my heart just did a somersault.

"Between you and me, who do you think is supposed to be deaf?" the old woman laughed, betraying her age. "She left something - inserted it on this book," she took "The Choice" (the book that I borrowed) out from the drawer. "You teenagers seriously need to remember that a library is not meant for -"

"Did she say anything?" I cut her off impatiently, taking the book from her wrinkled hand.

The now-annoyed librarian shook her head no.

I removed the little piece of paper from the pages of the book and read the note.

You probably didn't expect an apology from me after I left you alone without any explanation. You didn't deserve it and there is nothing I could say worthy of your forgiveness. You can crumple this paper or forget me - I'd accept all of it. But even after everything that I did to you, it would be such a shame to say that I did it all intentionally.

But here is my explanation: I was dying. My cancer was spreading and an operation could only result to a fast demise or a little chance of survival. From the start I meant to keep this from you - after all, who would have thought that a stranger like you would mean so much to me.

Everyday I wither in the pity of those around me, when all I really want is to do more than just breathe - I want to live. That's why I read lives that have happy endings, something I thought I was never granted to have. It was a torture I designed for myself. At that time all I really thought about was that since this cancer started controlling my life, all I am allowed to feel was pain.

I noticed you long before you borrowed the book. In all honesty, I was just as nervous to talk to you as you mentioned to me. I thought it was a game, really, on who can approach who first. And I lost when you did the irresistible: taking an erotic novel and pretending to read it with an expressionless innocent face. That little encounter started all the hilarious jokes and the little dates. There was nothing wrong about your questions and little interviews but forgive me if I am so reserved (Yes, the reason why I didn't choose to finish school was because of my condition). You'd never think of me as the same bookworm in the library if I told you all of my secrets - specifically about Leukemia.

But we started to hang-out and I let it all happen. There was nothing more refreshing than taking your guard off and having fun. I don't know what made me trust you- maybe it was because you don't look at me with pity, or the way you made me feel safe or that you built up some hope in me. You were a constant reminder of who I can't and never have. But you were there, three chairs away from me, so close yet so far. Ever since I started getting to know you, all I wanted was to close the distance.

So I made a gamble with myself, to give this one last chance, if that meant I'd have an opportunity to have a future with you, even if all we will ever end up is friends. And I accepted the operation, provided with the risks. I couldn't explain everything to you before I'd undergo operation. What's the point of worrying you over something you can't control especially if I'd just end up dead?

God answered my prayers, and I was saved. I got my second chance and all I want to do is spend it with you. But that's your choice. I'll be right here waiting where the heaven's cried.

Love,

E.

Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy. I know Eve.

I know.

[ppaltagon]

September - Yanan (pt. 3)

Part 3 out of 3; ~ 4.6k words

[Part 1]; [Part 2]

The days after spontaneously moving in with Yanan went by surprisingly fast, despite me burying myself in my studies. I was determined not to fail this class again – not because of my parents or because I was hoping they would take me in again, but because I didn’t want to look like a failure in front of Yanan. Though he assured me he didn’t see me as one, no matter what, I felt better about myself when I was studying instead of lazing around in my free time. He even offered to help me with it, though he had said previously that he was bad at business maths, but somehow he was able to explain to me the bits that I did not understand by myself. As for my living situation my grandma had contacted me a few days after getting kicked out. She had sounded super worried on the phone, more than I had ever experienced her worry before, and she had offered to take me in, because she couldn’t just let her granddaughter sleep on the streets. I hadn’t dared telling her that I was actually living with a young man, or she would have gotten a heart attack – and above all, a completely wrong idea. I remembered the story of when my mother suddenly didn’t come home anymore in her early twenties because she had moved in with her boyfriend at that time, who had turned out to be emotionally very unhealthy for her. She had never explicitly told me about that last part, but from the many stories I had heard about him from mostly my grandparents, it wasn’t hard to put the puzzle pieces together.

Understandably, my grandmother was traumatized after that, so I had spared her the unnecessary details that would’ve only lead her to believe the same was happening to me. I remembered her words after the phone call and arriving back from school that day, Yanan was waiting for me with a gentle smile on his face and two cups of coffee in hand. As I took the soothingly warm cup from him, I spent a while peering up at his beautiful face, probably a little longer than I should have as he cocked his head and raised his eyebrows as if asking me what I was staring at him for. I shook my head.

“Let’s go,” I said and started walking into the direction of his flat, with him following a few steps behind. I knew that he wouldn’t treat me badly, no matter what. I trusted him.

We took a little detour to go shopping for some groceries. I wanted to make proper dinner tonight, as a thank you for letting me stay with him. As we were walking home from shopping, bags in hand, I noticed he started humming a familiar melody, and it didn’t take me long to recognize the song. It was the same song we had already talked about briefly when dancing together and I decided to sing along a little. “...fighting against all odds, I know we’ll be alright this time…” Upon hearing my voice, Yanan looked over to smile at me, then started singing the lyrics as well. We walked like this the rest of the way, quietly singing together, and I couldn’t keep the broad smile from appearing on my face when I felt a sense of unity because of it.

Arriving home, after we put the food where it belonged in his kitchen, I cleared my throat to tell him that I had an announcement to make.

“Um… I talked to my grandmother today,” I started explaining and found a hint of an emotion in his expression that I could not interpret. “She said she would take me in. So I thought living with her might be smarter than continuing to freeload here…” I saw his face drop, but when answering he made sure to keep his voice stable.

“That means… you’re leaving…?” he quietly asked. I could swear he was disappointed, even though he did his best to hide that. I glanced over at the bundle flowers on the table, one or two of them starting to wilt slowly, and bit my lip.

“It’s better if I live with family,” I reasoned. Silence followed. Then he took one step towards me, then another one, until he stood right in front of me. Slowly, his big hands wrapped around mine and brought them up between us, his soft fingertips sending warmth and an almost electric feeling through my skin. Not daring to look me in the face he took a deep breath and called out my name.

“Stay with me for a while longer,” he asked and added after a short pause, “Please.” I watched as the features on his face changed slightly. Barely noticeable they went through all kinds of complicated emotions one by one, but I saw all of them, until his eyes finally met mine and for a moment those warm brown pupils loaded with all the emotions his face wouldn’t let show properly wiped all my thoughts clean and for a while I thought I could feel what he was feeling. And it almost ripped out my heart, clenching it and wringing it out, trying to drain it of all good emotions so that only pain was left. I didn’t quite understand that the thought of me moving back out brought him so much agony, but I understood that it did, and tears of sympathy started welling up in my eyes. I got a little closer and carefully wrapped my arms around his tall body, embracing him while leaning my head into his chest so I could feel his heart slowly beating against my ear. He too put his arms around me, holding me while leaning down so he could bury his face in my hair.

“Then I’ll stay… maybe it’s better if I avoid running into my mother for a while longer anyway,” I mumbled and felt him softly nod. My curiosity as to why he didn’t want me to go so badly grew, but I figured it would be better not to ask. So I made dinner as planned and managed to put a huge smile on his face with it, which made me feel relieved in return, and while he did the dishes as he insisted, I buried myself in studying once again. It didn’t take long until he sat down next to me on the ground, helping me solve the more difficult problems and praising me when I was able to get the answer right by myself.

“You’re really getting better and better!” he exclaimed, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Keep it up, you’re doing well like this!”

“You think I can ace the class next semester?” I laughed, thinking that would never happen anyway. However, he took a hold of my shoulders and answered in a completely serious tone.

“Yes. I think you can if you keep working hard like this.”

The following week I had my day off on Tuesday as usual and sat down to begin studying right after breakfast, but just as I was about to open my textbook, Yanan put his big hand down on it to prevent me from doing so. A questioning expression in my eyes, I looked up at him.

“You’ve been studying so hard non-stop. How about we use today to take a little break?” he offered.

“Like what?” I asked him, curious as to what he had planned.

“Well, we could go into town, do some window shopping if you like, get us some sweets,…”

“So like… a date?” I asked and noticed his cheeks lighting up immediately.

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, turning away shyly. “If you want to call it that then it’s a date.” I chuckled and jumped up to take his hand.

“If you want to go on a date with me, then just ask!” I laughed at him, but added on a more serious note and in a way he couldn’t have possibly made out the words exactly, “I couldn’t say no to your handsome face.” As I went on to change into more suitable clothes in the bathroom, he remained standing there as if he was in shock, then silently muttering,

“Only my face…?”

As planned, we took the fastest way into the shopping district of my hometown and we went down the same street where my mother bought the dress for his aunt’s party for me. I sighed at the thought of my home and my family, and realized that after all, I missed them a little. Walking closely next to Yanan, the backs of our hands were bound to touch every now and then, until somehow we ended up holding hands and I couldn’t hold back a smile while passing by the big shopping windows and the colorfully flashing and blinking signs overhead.

“Found anything you want?” he asked me after a while.

“No, I’m just looking. I can’t afford anything here,” I chuckled back.

“I’ll buy you something,” he offered and I looked at him in disbelief.

“You can’t…!” I protested. He was already doing so much for me, I couldn’t let him buy presents for me as well.

“My relatives are rich, remember? And sometimes they spare me some of their… leftovers.”

“You saying it like that doesn’t make it sound shady at all, you know…” I remarked, causing him to laugh a little.

“Maybe it is shady. Who knows?” I raised my eyebrows at the answer, but he immediately denied it himself. “It isn’t, don’t worry. Me and my cousins just get a lot of financial support from them.”

“…then why does your cousin’s flat look so plain?” I wondered out loud. “If he has the money, shouldn’t he at least decorate his home accordingly?” Yanan let out a sigh.

“I’m not sure. I suppose he just doesn’t like all that colorful stuff around him all the time. His parents’ house is filled with decorations. Maybe he got tired of them. But that aside, my offer still stands. Let me buy you something.”

“Then…” I looked around carefully and found a street vendor selling candied fruit and pointed at his stand. “I want strawberries!”

“Huh?” Slightly confused, Yanan followed where my hand pointed, then let out a sound as he understood what I meant. “That’s not a lot though…” he commented.

“I don’t need much,” I stated. “But what I do need is my regular dose of sugar!” I laughed and we walked over there. Yanan bought two servings of the candied strawberries, all lined up on a stick and the smooth surface reflecting the sunlight coming from above. We decided to sit down on a bench nearby and after enjoying my first strawberry, I stared off into the distance for a while, getting ready to talk.

“Say, Yanan…” I started and had his attention immediately. “What do you do if there’s something you’re just not good at… or that just doesn’t work out for you, and you keep failing at it? Like, what would you do if you were in a situation like I am with that maths class?”

“Hmmm,” his voice resounded next to me while he was visibly thinking about how to answer, obviously aiming to pick the right words carefully. “I guess I just try over and over again, until it works out someday. I can’t keep failing forever.”

“You keep trying? Even if it takes years?” I asked, amazed by his answer.

“Even if it takes years,” he said, his facial expression determined.

“That’s a lot of dedication,” I remarked and took the next strawberry into my mouth. “Isn’t that draining?”

“It is,” he admitted. “Of course it can be draining.”

“Then why hang on? It has to be enough at some point…” But he shook his head, maybe with a little too much force.

“No. Not with everything. There are certain things I would never… I could never give up,” he stated, looking at something far off in the street, but I couldn’t make out what it was that he was staring at.

“Wow… what is that thing you would never give up, even if it takes years to achieve it? Is it okay if I ask you that?”

“It’s…” Yanan slowly let his eyes sink to the ground. “Nothing.” I couldn’t bring myself to believe that. But I hesitated to pose any further questions. He must’ve had a reason why he didn’t want to speak about it.

We both finished our snacks and I held out my hand for him to give me his wooden stick the strawberries had been carefully lined up on, so I could go and throw them away. Just when I was standing right in front of him and he passed it to me, I caught a glimpse of his tongue licking the remaining sweetness off his lips. Unconsciously mimicking his movement, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would taste like to kiss him with the flavor of the sugar and the strawberries still lingering. He slightly raised his eyebrows as he must’ve caught on to what I was thinking and he leaned back a little, holding out his hand to gesture I should come closer. Blushing and my heart rate speeding up, I leaned down to him and closed my eyes, waiting for him to make our lips meet. I heard him let out a soft laugh right in front of my face and a kissing sound, followed by the feeling of his fingers across my lips. I opened my eyes in disappointment and looked at him angrily.

“That’s not what I was hoping for…” I uttered, trying to hide my disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Let me do it properly,” he gave me a mischievous smile, but I wasn’t having any of that. Just when I was about to shake my head and straighten up, I felt his hand behind my neck. He pulled me closer so my lips landed on his, and as soon as I sensed the softness of the kiss combined with the sweet taste of the treat we just had, all my anger washed away immediately. When he released me, I remembered he was toying with me just a few seconds ago, so I awkwardly walked over to the nearby trash bin, not sure if I should still be angry or just let it slide. He too got up and approached me from behind.

“Let me carry your bag as an apology,” he said, but I refused.

“Leave it, it’s not heavy anyway. Also, I don’t want to seem like the evil girlfriend that makes her boyfriend do everything for her like a slave,” I answered and turned to look at his bright face.

“Oh, so we’re a couple now?” he asked, and upon realizing we hadn’t officially talked about our relationship status yet, I blushed madly.

“W-well…!” I stumbled over my words. “O-only my boyfriend is allowed to kiss me like that, y-you know-“ Before I could do anything else, he shut me up by leaning in and placing another lingering kiss on my lips.

“Like this?” he asked, whispering while the distance between our faces was still small enough that I could feel his breath on my skin while he spoke. As soon as he had taken a step back and I had time to breathe properly, I yelled at him.

“Since when are you so overconfident?!” He only answered with a sweet smile, looking to the side in his usual shy manner, confusing me even more. While reaching for my hand and intertwining our fingers, I could hear him mumble into a different direction,

“It’s all because of you.”

We got back from our little date in the afternoon after having lunch outside, which I couldn’t keep him from paying for me. I immediately went back to studying, and even though he tried to convince me to take it easy for the rest of the day as well, he understood that I would feel guilty if I didn’t at least revise the stuff I learned the day before. He sat down with me to see if I needed help with anything and come evening, we prepared dinner together and let the day come to an end naturally, both going to sleep in our separate spaces, feeling content with the successful day.

That night I woke up from one of my usual nightmares. I opened my eyes, the petrifying fear slowly letting go of me as I scanned the apartment shrouded in the dim light of the moon and stars entering through the thin curtains. When my pulse was back to a rather normal pace, I tried falling back asleep with the sheets pulled over my head, but somehow the unsettling feelings which the nightmare brought with it came back every time I closed my eyes and had nothing but darkness in my vision. Sighing, I eventually gave up and got my tired body out of bed, walking over to the kitchen to get a glass of water. But even then I couldn’t quite calm down, and on the way back to the couch, my eyes landed on the door to Yanan’s room. With silent steps I tiptoed over there and put my hand on the handle, before carefully opening it, trying to make as little sound as possible. His room as well was partly veiled in the moonlight and I could make out his figure lying on his side in the bed, peacefully sleeping. As I set one foot in front of the other, I noticed a book and loose sheets of paper lying next to him on the bed. Huh? Was he reading something? Getting a little closer, I recognized the cover, and letting my eyes scan the notes on the sheets and the highlighted parts, the realization hit me. I took all of it into my hands and recalled doing the first few calculations with him just a few hours ago, leading me to believe that the rest of the notes would be what I would study later on today. I looked up at him and his slightly messy hair and my chest filled up with warmth and thankfulness. He’s studying all that so he could help me with it… I carefully placed the study materials onto the floor next to the bed and crawled in, resting my body right next to his and placing one hand on his upper arm, that slid to his chest when he suddenly rolled over and opened his eyes a little. He gave me a confused look before he understood what was going on.

“I-is it okay if I stay here…?” I whispered. A sleepy smile curled up the corners of his mouth and he nodded barely noticeable. The next second, he put his arm around me and pulled me closer, so I was lying half on top of him. I lifted my head to look at his face and let him brush his fingers through my hair. The feeling in my chest from earlier appeared again, and this time it spread all throughout my body, and I smiled to myself when I finally realized what that really was. I brought my lips up to his and placed a gentle kiss on them, and again we locked eyes when we parted.

“I love you.”

His eyes grew wide upon hearing me say those words and I repeated them.

“I really love you.” With one hand behind my neck, he led me into another kiss, slightly tracing his thumb over my cheek while moving his lips against mine and our mouths opened slightly to deepen the kiss further.

For a while that felt like an eternity, but still far too short, just like back then in the pouring rain, I felt him close to me, closer than I ever thought I would. His gentle touches gave me nothing but reassurance, his soft lips exploring my body never failed to send shivers down my spine. With every little movement of his he poured in so much care, and I felt overwhelmed with love, that I did not want to let go of him ever again. And after that night shared in the dim moonlight, weakened by the swaying curtains, I wouldn’t see him the way I saw him before ever again. We both knew we’d cross a border we couldn’t just return from, and neither of us thought twice about the kiss that carried us somewhere different, and the connection that would bind our hearts together unlike anything else. And when I woke up in the morning, lying in his arms skin on skin, I knew I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

The days living with Yanan passed by faster than ever. Sometimes I felt like they were flying away too fast, as if there was something we could lose, something that was waiting for us at the end. What end? As October progressed, the days got colder and the coffee he always bought for me while he was waiting for me to return from college was more appreciated than ever. I wanted to repay him somehow, but he just brushed it off, telling me in sincerity that he was content just having me with him. In the meanwhile, my grandparents tried convincing me to come back once more, but I wasn’t even thinking about returning to them. For now I was happy living together with Yanan and sharing my days with someone who I felt cared about me more than anyone in my life ever had. We started sleeping in the same bed regularly, and ever since then my nightmares had gotten fewer. And even if I woke up from one, having him right there next to me filled me with a feeling of safety and washed all other negative emotions away.

There was only one thing I noticed. I was probably interpreting too much since I was used to worrying more than I should. But still it made me think. As it got colder he would hug me more often, holding me longer than he had, and for some reason it had a hint of a sad feeling to it. When I asked him about it he insisted it was nothing, but still that lingering unsettlement didn’t go away, no matter how much I tried to make it disappear with reason. Until I came back from college late in the evening on the last of October. As per usual, he picked me up at the station, patiently waiting for me in the cold night. We held hands and walked home in silence, and from the way the air around him felt strange that day I vowed myself I would ask what was up with him these last days as soon as we got home. However, after we both took off our shoes and had put aside our coats, I looked at him standing there in the dark living room and a bad premonition came with the way he looked at me from a distance that felt bigger than it was.

“Don’t you wanna turn on the lights?” I asked, but he cut me off.

“Y/N, come here for a moment,” he said while doing a hand movement to underline his words. Surprised, I left the light off and approached him with unsure steps. He cupped my face with his big hands, movements careful as ever.

“I just…” he started a sentence and his voice broke off. He took a deep breath to collect himself while I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Yanan, what’s wrong with-“

“Shhh.” He put his index finger in front of my lips. “It’s okay.” He looked at me fondly while his voice carried a deep sadness, but in his brown eyes looking directly into mine I found nothing but warmth and love. “Remember what I told you back when we first got to know each other?”

“What do you mean?” I whispered back.

“I said I was from both the past and the future.”

“What about it? Wasn’t that just a story you came up with?” The confusion started tying knots in my brain and thinking about it became painful. He shot me an apologetic smile but didn’t further answer my question.

“I just want you to know that I am thankful I got to know you,” he said.

“Stop it, Yanan! This feels like you’re breaking up with me!” I shouted, and he took a strong hold of my shoulders.

“That’s not what this is. It really isn’t, please believe me,” he explained as if pleading that I would understand. Then he added more silently, “I would never want to leave you.”

“Then what is it…?” I dared to ask, preparing myself for all kinds of wild reasons, but getting none of them in return.

“It’s the same thing that always happens on this day when the clock hits midnight…” he said, giving the one hanging in the kitchen a look. I knew it wasn’t long until then, but I didn’t want to know how long exactly. “I’m so sorry I’m doing this to you over and over again…” he then muttered.

“What do you mean by ‘this’? Please tell me! What is going on?” I begged him, taking a hold of his shirt and clutching the fabric in my hands.

“I can’t explain it well either, but… let’s just say I need to move on.”

“Move on? From what…?” Was this about… the dimension thing he mentioned when we first sat down and talked? Was that all… real? He shushed me again while slightly shaking his head. His hands wandered to behind my back and I let him pull me close. I felt like crying but the confusion wouldn’t let any tears come out. Instead I felt his hand starting to slowly pet my head, and focusing on just his touch as I closed my eyes, I calmed down a little. Holding each other tightly, some time passed until he whispered right next to my ear with a clear voice and unmistakable words.

“Please… continue to do well, as you’ve been doing up until now. I know you have the strength within you. And thank you. Thank you for lighting up my life. When I first came to this town I really didn’t like it. I felt like a stranger among all those people I’ve never seen before. But then there was you. You made my days a little brighter. You brought me joy and a reason to look forward to the next morning. So thank you. Thank you for letting me love you.”

Having said those words he could never say enough, he couldn’t hold back the tears that had welled up in his eyes any longer. As if she wanted to comfort him, she wrapped her arms around him more tightly. Even just that little gesture of kindness made his heart overflow with warmth. As he was embracing her tiny body and a bitter but thankful smile formed on his lips, his eyelids fell shut and the clock hit midnight.

It was the 30th of September. He set foot into the cursed town in the early morning hours and made his way to the station where he would get a bite to eat and then wait to bump into her by the staircase to platform B, just as he had done so many times before in the past, and would continue to do for who knows how long in the future. But for now, he still had some time, so with his take-out coffee in hand, he leaned against the brick wall of the station building and sighed, unbuttoning his long brown coat with his free hand. It was unusually warm that day.

~Admin Salty