#all it took was the lack of sleep and four times the amount of caffeine i normally consume to get it done. now it is time to collapse

[dreamdripdistance]

i did two of the extremely scary (yet very easy) things ive been needing to do for weeks. i think i deserve a medal right now what the fuck

[myherowritings]

PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month. 

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place. 

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of. 

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista. 

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores. 

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do. 

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour. 

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack. 

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming. 

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?” 

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!” 

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.” 

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot. 

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.) 

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.” 

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?” 

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now. 

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?” 

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.” 

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.” 

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded. 

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.” 

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either. 

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit. 

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.” 

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.” 

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.” 

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility. 

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter. 

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through. 

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?” 

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron. 

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!” 

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?” 

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.” 

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning. 

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.” 

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude. 

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh. 

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows 

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice 

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

[spicykiwiis]

Late Night Café (pt. 1)

Summary: The streets of New York seem to change at night, and Bucky gets drawn in to the little café with strange work hours during a heavy storm. Lucky for him you really don't mind that he's drenched head to toe.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning: None :)

Word Count: 2k

Series Masterlist

New York City completely changes at night.

Maybe it’s the lack of sunlight. Although these past few days have been pretty bleak, with rain forming puddles that cover the sides of the road and splash onto the sidewalk anytime a car drives by. Not that the sidewalks weren’t already wet though, this heavy rain hasn’t been forgiving, and not an inch of outside New York remains dry. Still though, even when the city hasn’t seen sunlight for what feels like forever now, the ambiance still shifts when it gets fully dark. It’s not that there’s a lack of people keeping it lively, no. I don’t think there’s ever going to be a point where the streets of New York have no people on them. Maybe it’s the type of people that are out. Surely that girl that walks by every early morning with her dog wagging its tail beside her is not the same girl that walks by at four in the morning with her heels in one hand and a beer in her other, bumping shoulders with her friends as they walk back from a night out.

You’d think with all the people that are out and about during those late nights in the city, some type of noise or chaos would follow them, but no. At some point in the night it always gets quiet, almost like a sense of stillness that slowly creeps up on you as the moon climbs up higher in the sky. And with that sense of stillness comes a sense of peace that covers the little café that lits up the dim streets of New York.

There’s a small sign on the door that says open 7am-6pm and then again 1am to 5am. It’s a weird schedule for a small local café to have, but still the little bell that hangs at the top of the door doesn’t cease to chime during those dark hours. It’s normally students that come in so late at night, looking for a caffeine boost that will help them get through those assignments that they’ve left for the last minute. There’s the insomniacs too though, and those always seem to be the same regular customers that have their orders ready for them when they stop by, like a sort of routine that gets created over time.

It’s been more quiet than normal the past few days though - heavy rain really seems to stop people from leaving the warmth of their apartments, no matter how sleep deprived they might be. The clock’s already at 2:34am, and if it were a normal day you would’ve already made and served at least 5 coffees. Even old Mike hadn’t shown up like he usually did every night at around 1:40, and now his mug stays empty and unused in the shelf, making you extremely aware of the absence of customers. You understand though, the rain is hitting extra heavy tonight, and the water that cascades down the windows makes the streetlights look distorted and blurry. No sane person would think to be out on the streets with this weather, but still you leave the small café open, busying yourself by wiping down a few tables and cleaning a few mugs and dishes Alfie from the dayshift had probably forgotten to clean.

The playlist you always played during these late shifts played quietly in the background, the smooth 40s jazz making you sway slightly side to side as you set the now clean dishes aside to dry. As much as you love serving customers, these rare empty nights are always appreciated from time to time, even if sometimes you can slowly feel loneliness creep up on you. You pushed those feeling down though, and right as you were about to step foot on the kitchen the small chime of the bell you had grown to appreciate over the years stopped you, catching you slightly off-guard.

It was a tall man that had just come in through the door. His short hair was completely drenched and was sticking down on his forehead, water droplets falling down his face. The black leather jacket he had on was completely wet, but lucky for him the impermeable material probably stopped the water from getting to the shirt he had underneath. He brought up a gloved hand and pushed back his hair, careful to not get anything wet.

“Sorry I- I don’t want to make a mess. I don’t have an umbrella and this was the only place open” his voice caught you off-guard, it’s softness making you relax your shoulders. You hadn’t noticed how tense you’d gotten, but a man his size coming in at almost 3 in the morning during a night like this would get anyone on edge. The hard look in his eyes had completely disappeared when he noticed and spoke to you, and you were glad about it.

“Oh please! Don’t worry, come in. Weather’s rough tonight. You can take a seat wherever.”

A small smile appeared on his face and disappeared as soon as it came, but you didn’t miss the look of relief on his face as he took a seat on one of the stools placed behind the main counter. You still took notice of how careful he was of not getting anything else wet, which was nice.

“What can I get you?” you smiled as you grabbed the little notepad clipped to your apron, ready to take his order.

“Uh- just a black coffee’s fine. Thank you.”

You nodded and walked over to the coffee maker, making sure everything was in order before making his coffee. He kept his jacket and gloves on, which slightly concerned you since he was drenched in water and probably freezing. You waited for the coffee to be made and watched from the corner of your eyes as he looked around the small café, stopping to look at all the doors in it for slightly longer periods of time. He seemed to be alert, but after a couple looks around the place he finally settled down completely.

The coffee machine came to a stop and you grab one of the mugs you had just cleaned, filling it to the top and grabbing a clean rag along the way as you went to serve it to him.

“Here’s your coffee. And here’s a clean rag if you want to dry yourself off a bit. Sorry I don’t have any towels on hand right now, I’d give you one if I did.” You placed the coffee in front of him and the rag next to it, smiling as he looked up to meet your eyes.

“Thank you.” He took the rag and brought it up to his hair, rubbing it to get rid of the excess water. “I’m sorry again- about the mess.”

You reassured him it was fine, that he didn’t even make a mess. It was only the entrance that had gotten wet, nothing a couple swipes with the mop could fix.

He still kept his gloves on even when holding the hot cup of coffee between his hands, but you decided not to question anything and went back to working. Most of the customers that came in during the late nigh shifts weren’t there to have a conversation anyways, just there to have something to drink and think about their lives. It was always interesting to see. There’s a lot of characters that come in so late at night, and working there you end up learning how to read people very well.

This guy though – he was hard to read. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, but you could tell he was still alert about what was going on around him. It was safe to say you hadn’t gotten a customer like him in the years you had been working here, and yet there was something weirdly comforting about his brooding presence. With the smooth jazz paying in the background, he seemed to belong there.

“Weird time for a café to be open.”

His deep voice catches you of guard again, he certainly didn’t seem like the type to come in and make conversation.

“Weird time to be drinking black coffee.” You replied back with amusement, both of you turning to look at the clock hanging on the wall to the left. 3:22am.

“Touché.”

He took a sip of his coffee and watched as you grabbed another clean mug and a tea bag, turning on the kettle that was next to the coffee machine. He seemed to be up for some distraction, so you spoke up again.

“So, what’s a guy like you doing walking around under pouring rain? With no umbrella too.”

“A guy like me?”

“I asked first. You can’t answer a question with another question.” You smiled in amusement, watching as he sat up on his stool. He looked at your face, and stayed silence for a few seconds. It was as if he was taking you in, deciding whether or not he wanted to have this conversation with you.

“Apartment felt crowded. Got too far out before I realised it was raining.”

“Wow. Must’ve been really deep in your thoughts if you didn’t notice yourself getting drenched.”

He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee, eyes wandering to the side. Taking in the empty tables that were scattered along the place. The café was small, so there where only three tables along with the six stools that were placed in a row along the counter. Plants covered most of the place, and if you paid close attention you could smell the fresh and somewhat sweet scent they gave off. He changed the subject.

“I am curious though. I’ve never seen small cafés like this open so late.”

“You’d be surprised at the amount of people that stop by. Some people just need an escape late at night that sleep can’t give them.” The corners of his mouth turned up at this, almost like he knew exactly what you were talking about. “And students. Sleep deprived students that leave their assignments to the last minute sure do keep the business alive.”

He let out a chuckle at this comment, and for a second your breath got caught on your throat. There was no denying this man was extremely handsome, and something about his laugh gave you a weird feeling at the pit of your stomach.

“Late Night Café. It’s a fitting name.”

“Funny enough there were no night shifts when we started. Figured we should stay true to the name though, and here we are.”

It seemed like the rain was slowly starting to cease now. The loud noise of the water hitting the window glass was slowing down, and the streets were starting to look clearer now that the rain was not constantly washing down the glass.

“You’re in luck, it looks like the rain is starting to slow down.” You nodded to the glass and he turned his head, taking in the way the once pouring water turned into water droplets that slid down it. He let out a hum in response.

Now that the rain had slowed down, a couple other customers appeared through the door, bell chiming each time they walked through the door. You could see him taking in the people that came through, listening to their orders and watching as you moved around getting the orders ready. He had asked for a refill in the middle of this, and you smiled as you poured more hot coffee into his empty mug. As much as you liked the empty nights, there was something about serving the people that came through that made you feel peaceful. It was like second nature to you.

“You really seem to be in your element.” He spoke again as you cleaned the mug of a customer that had just left, and you smiled in content.

“Been doing this for a long time now.”

You took in his state now, noticing how his hair was completely dry now and his leather jacket no longer had water droplets sliding off it. He seemed to be less alert now too, maybe because he had taken in the whole café now. As you went to set down the mug you just cleaned he looked at the clock, noticing it was already almost four in the morning. You watched as he stood up from his stool.

“I should probably get going. Thanks for the coffee. And the shelter too.” He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table besides his coffee mug and gave you a small smile getting ready to leave.

“Woah- wait. Coffee here’s definitely not that expensive. Let me get your change.” You went over to the cash register, but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, keep the change. Consider it an apology for getting the place wet.”

“I can’t let you do that; you didn’t even make a mess-”

“Really it’s okay. I won’t take the change if you give it to me.” He smiled once again, placing his hands on his leather jacket pockets to stop you from trying to place the change in his hands.

“Okay fine – but let me at least give you something for the way back.”

He wanted to say no, but you were adamant on this, so you grabbed one of the savoury pastries that you had on display and placed it on a takeaway bag for him, smiling in achievement when he took the small paper bag. He smiled at you, saying a quick bye as he left through the door, bell chiming and leaving the café feeling more quiet than ever.

You soon realised that you never got his name, and part of you wished that you had asked, even if that was something you never asked to new customers. Besides, who knows if he’ll ever stop bye again. You were grateful for the heavy rain now, and little did you know he was too, because thanks to it he found out about the little café lighting up that dark street of New York.

******

A/N: Hey! I haven't written anything in what feels like years, let alone post anything. I hope yall like this, i might turn it into a series, i'll have to see if inspiration hits. Anyways thanks for reading!

[weewoo186]

Strawberries and Stars

A Tsukishima and Yachi fanfic.

(I can’t write x reader since the reader is supposed to be pretty and I’m obviously not ehe~)

Genres: Slice-of-life, Married under 25, Married life, Friends to lovers, Memories, College days, Rare pair, etc

Warnings: Language not suitable for all ages

Word count: 5.4k

(Note: I used their first names at present time and their last names during their memories uwu)

Kei sighed. It was two in the morning, and he was extremely exhausted by the sheer amount of paperwork stacked upon his wooden desk. Ever since he's started his job, insomnia hovered over him more often then usual at night. Daydreaming whilst keeping his hands moving was possibly the only way for him to get all the work done, blocking out any outside distractions he didn’t want to be involved with. During times like these, he would imagine himself not as a the caffeine-induced workaholic he was forced to become, but simply as a normal partner who's there to accompany Hitoka at home. But today, he simply could not get his work done.

He glanced outside the office room's moonlit windows. He smiled fondly as he recalled how the streetlamps of Miyagi prefecture would light the alleys in flickering, golden hues. Those same lights used to shine upon so many people in a single day: elementary students giggling amongst themselves as they raced home, sport clubs making a racket in front of Sakanoshita's, ladies in their parasols chatting about on their phones, and young couples wandering the streets as they held hands whispering sweet nothings to one another. In comparison, Tokyo at night was dimly lit and quite silent, to his surprise. The only noticeable source of light was the bright, full moon. He chuckled, for who would've thought that the city so full of people presented this type of scenery under the clear moonlit sky?

A sudden gust of cold wind caused him to wrap his arms around his chest, cursing at himself for not bringing anything to warm himself up.

Snapping out of the short daydream, he reluctantly glanced at the paperwork piled under a mini wood-carving of a slightly deformed monkey that Hitoka gave to him as a birthday joke. He took a handful from the pile in front of him and began to read and sign through stacks of documents and requests given to him by his co-workers. A little less than four minutes later, his hands started cramping in the most uncomfortable way possible. He cursed for the umpteenth time as he struggled to keep himself awake, relying mostly on the so-called "special brew" he made that consisted of three whole packs of instant coffee and a small bottle of his favorite strawberry milk that Hitoka gave to him before setting off for work. His eyes kept fluttering, trying to fight the drowsiness that had accumulated from his obvious lack of rest. The dark bags under his eyes honestly didn’t help either, only further indicating to everyone else that he needed rest. Despite the daily concerns of his co-workers, he continued working, not giving himself some slack even for a single moment.

Well, at least until he felt a sudden wave of fatigue coarse through his body.

“Ahaha, the sugar and caffeine are already starting to wear off, I see” he chuckled darkly, contemplating on whether or not he should take another swig of his god-awful brew. “Should I add a few more packs of sugar next time..?" he mused, wishing that some miracle would grant him the power to stake away at willpower.

Inhaling sharply, he still forced himself to work til morning. As his co-workers started checking in one by one, he tried his absolute best to brush off the fact that majority of them were practically forcing him to sleep. He smiled at their futile attempts, assuring them that he was absolutely fine. Despite his co-workers offering to cover for him for a few days; he flatly refused, not wanting to bother them for his inefficiency. As the midday sun rose and hovered above the towering buildings of Tokyo, his peers decided to take a one hour break. After refusing a handful of invitations to go and eat out, he kept himself seated at his desk, determination overflowing as he finished up the remaining papers that needed to be signed. As his ink pen danced over the last document, he heard the concerned voice of Hitoka replaying in his head.

“You're... working too hard," she had said, her dark eyes scanning his tired state, "Ah, don't get me wrong! I just noticed that you're pushing yourself too much and I'm a bit concerned” her voice was laced with worry despite her usually jittery appearance. From this, he let out an amused puff of air. He stood up from his desk, stretching his stiff and tired muscles. Turning, he arranged the files on his desk and switched off the lights in one swift movement as he prepared to go home. From there, he excitedly rushed out of the room, trying not to skip as he imagined his wife waiting for him at home.

-------2 hours later---------

Standing outside his house, he rummaged inside his pocket and pulled out a silver key with mint green dino key chain hanging on one end. He smiled at the funny-looking item and proceeded to enter his humble abode.

Stepping inside the odd, yet, comfortable scenery of his home, he took a single whiff and suddenly felt his fatigue and drowsiness disappear in an instant. To come home and be welcomed by the heavenly aroma of butter and meat being sautéed from the kitchen is an experience only the truly fortunate can indulge in. The scraping and clacking noises of pots and pans filled the room as if to announce to anyone nearby that people are indeed inhabiting the place. After taking in his shoes and placing them on a nearby rack, he silently made his way to the kitchen and saw Hitoka sprinkling foreign ingredients of all shapes and sizes into a pot in small, happy movements, humming a tune he couldn't quite make out. He peered over her shoulder and widened his eyes in pleasant surprise. Although he knew for a fact that he wasn't experienced much in the field of cooking, he at least knew was that whatever Hitoka was making would taste simply amazing once it's finished. He grinned silently, holding his breath as he prepared to surprise his wife.

Stifling a laugh escaping from his throat, he whispered a wheezing “I’m home~” in her ear.

She screamed. And... nO- despite her being absolutely adorable, the demonic sound that escaped from her wasn't the cutesy kind of scream that you oftentimes see in films. It wasn't necessarily loud, but it was extremely high-pitched, to his surprise. The scream lasted for a solid second before quieting down to a handful of curses from the rather short female as soon as she saw the person who startled her.

She gave him a rather irritated smile, an obvious vein popping out from her neck as she crossed her arms waiting for some sort of reaction or apology from the taller male. Kei, on the other hand, just stared with his mouth slightly agape.

There was something rather out of the ordinary about this... foreign scenery standing in front of him.

He took one look at her and tried his utter best to keep himself from fucking laughing. “This is...” he snickered, keeping a palm over his lips. “Quite amusing.” He commented with a smile hidden beneath his palm. When he first entered the kitchen, he was much too intoxicated by the aroma of the food that he didn't noticed his wife's rather... new appearance. He took another quick glance at her as he nearly choked himself from trying to keep his laugh from escaping his dry throat, for Hitoka looked absolutely haggard. Her normally well-kept hair looked more like a bird's nest at this point, although her iconic side-ponytail was still intact, much to his shock. Brandishing a grease-covered spatula like some discount fairy godmother, she was wearing oversized clothing underneath a light blue apron that he bought for her since he knew just how much she loved to work in the kitchen despite him saying over and over that he could take over if she wanted to.

"Hey.." he started, composing himself as he went, "what's with the get-up?" Hitoka simply huffed in response, trying to hide the dust of pink that was slowly spreading across her pale face.

"...Welcome home." she simply said, looking at him before turning, "And in my defense, I wasn't expecting you to be home this early." A small laugh escaped her as she flicked his forehead with her free hand and proceeded to go back to handling whatever she was previously doing in the kitchen.

"Did I bother you that much?" he asked with a smirk as he reached for the shirt folded neatly on top of the table right in front of him.

"Hmm, I wonder.." she replied, re-tying her hair in response.

After much bickering and forehead-flicking, the two of them quieted down and decided to simply accompany each other in silence. Hitoka was tossing around heaps of food inside the large cooking pot as Kei helped out by chopping additional ingredients and spices from their stash. When their bodies occasionally brush against one another, both of them would be warmed by the gentle reminder of each other's presence after a wave of familiarity surrounds them. It was comforting to say the least, because even that much was enough for them. From time to time, Kei would absentmindedly give a small smile as he takes notice of how his and Hitoka's hands would accidentally touch during the whole process. Likewise, she would sometimes even sneak glances at Kei, as if trying to assure herself that he really was there beside her and not just a figment of her overactive imagination.

From an outsider's perspective, one might often think that their relationship is something that people should be concerned about given their common lack of experience and perhaps even communication. But one thing you simply must know about the couple is that both of these individuals are people of few words. And for them, it simply meant that being with each other was more than enough.

Hitoka paused as a memory flashed. Eyes misting, she set the spatula aside and leaned on the kitchen counter, crossing her arms as she simply stood there trying to recall familiar fleeting moments that had long since came to pass. She quickly glanced at Kei who so dedicatedly chopped up vegetables and spices in a surprisingly elegant manner.

For someone who acts like a child every now and then, he sure does have some style.

As the sun snuggled behind the mountains and the day began to cease, golden rays that were left behind spilled through their home's glass windows, gently bouncing off from Kei's hair, making him seem more pure and angelic than he already looked like. She caught his eyes as he simply glanced at her, only noticing now that her hands have stopped moving. He settled down the knife. Curiosity in his voice, he asked what she was thinking about.

"Remember that time? When we first met after graduating?" she asks, a gentle smile touching her pale pink lips.

After her upperclassmen had graduated on her first year of high school, she and the other first-years had become extremely close, to say the least. The club had only increased in members when they made it to the nationals, but like all good memories, this one had to meet its eventual end. She recalled the time where it all began. Five years ago, After they had graduated from Karasuno high, Yachi hadn't been able to keep in touch with anyone outside family as she started becoming extremely busy reviewing for the college entrance exams.

“You can't be a manager forever.”  they said. “Start thinking about your future.” they said.

So she did.

The extreme pressure of having to maintain her status was practically tethering at the edge of insanity as she furiously, yet diligently, studied to the extreme. The days had gone by quickly, but during the time she spent prioritizing the exams, the more her relationship with the team grew distant. It was only after she got the acceptance letter when she realized that she had no one close to share her joy with.

Life goes on, and you let people go. Although she's always been aware that she wasn't the talkative or interactive type, the feeling of emptiness surrounding her started growing as she yearned for the feeling of home that she grew so familiar with since the day she first stepped onto the polished floorboards of the volleyball gym.

And she blamed herself for letting the distance grow.

College life didn't really help either. During the start of semester, she had decided to keep as much as a low profile as she could. Despite her outward appearance being childish, bubbly, or perhaps even annoying, she was actually quite aware of the effect she had on people... And it really wasn't something she was comfortable with.

Her first year had gone by without a hitch. Her class had started forming small groups and circles since the first day, and despite a few friendly people inviting her to hang out with them, she would apologetically refuse to do so after using "I need to study" and "I'm a bit busy" as the usual excuses. So by the end of the year, she was all alone with no one to talk to. Although, as lonely as it sounds like, it wasn't as if it had actually bothered her. In truth, she was comfortable with herself, and that allowed her to get plenty of things done. But.. she really did miss the volleyball team.

---4 years ago---

And as cliché as it sounds, the first time they met after high school was during spring on their second year of college, two years after they had graduated.

It was during the school festival when her professor asked her to bring a box of some materials to a department at the far end of the college campus. In order to get there, you had to pass by a ton of classrooms, at least three different staff offices, five flights of stairs, and a weird statue that seemed extremely out of place. Although she reluctantly agreed, she realized that doing this would give her enough free time to stroll around some of the brightly decorated booths without being told to help around every five minutes being the “reliable classmate” she was. As a response, she asked the professor if he needed help with anything else; so by the time the classroom door had shut behind her, she was holding not one, but three different boxes as she made her way to the other department.

After some time had passed, she eventually arrived at the almost empty classroom where she was supposed to drop off the materials. Well, emphasis on the word 'almost'. Sitting inside was a teacher whom she got rather close to during the time she spent studying inside the college library. The woman who was arranging test papers inside worked as a literature professor and a librarian at the same time. She noticed Hitoka standing outside the classroom and stood up as she opened the door and gestured her to enter the classroom with a kind smile. As usual, she and the teacher engaged in idle conversation over cups of tea that the mysterious woman had somehow produced in thin air. After setting down the items, she prepared to leave until she heard an “oh!” behind her. The older female beckoned her to come closer.

“Ah, Hitoka, come here for a second,” the teacher said with a smile.

“What is it? Is there any chance that you need my help?” she asked politely.

“No no no, nothing of the sort,” she waving her hand, “I'd like to give you an extra copy of this department's library key.” she said, fishing out the said item from her very full right pocket, mumbling as she went.

“Oh? But why?”

“Hmm, I wonder..” the teacher mused as she held out the key “I suppose you could think of it as being the only member in a club?” a hint of sadness laced the kind lady's voice. “Well, just make sure to lock up every time you leave the library, understood?”

---Present---

“Wait wait wait, so you basically had a free pass to the library since second year?” Kei asked in disbelief, his childish side showing, “some of us actually had to pay every time, now that seems a bit unfair, don't you think?

“And I used to pay thrice the amount because of how often I used to go there. Can't help being the favorite, I suppose.” she said with a small shrug, a hint of smugness in her tone.

“But still.”

“If it weren't for that key, we wouldn't have hung out now, wouldn't we?” she said casually, wiggling her fingers in the air.

After another round of bickering, she had finally sat Kei down, allowing her to start placing food she cooked on the table. Just as she's done it tons of times before, Hitoka easily balanced three large plates filled with food on her arms and served them in light movements despite the actual weight of the dishes. Barbecued crisp meat, seasoned fresh leaves, and an assortment of bite-sized rice rolls were to be seen on top of the plates which made Kei's mouth water just a teeny bit. Glancing at him, Hitoka snorted, setting the dishes down carefully as she proceeded to get some drinking glasses and utensils.

“Ah, this might take a while actually,” she said after eyeing something inside a small pot, “Do you want a bath first? I opened it just a while ago.”

“Hmm,” he playfully mused, “but what if I want y-”

“Don't. Even think about finishing that line.” she said, an obvious smile forming, “As if I'd say something that cliché.”

“Ehhh, but-”

“Do you want me to take away Dino?” Dino was a plushie that lived on top of their bed because Kei usually sleeps with the small thing beside him.

“Fine fine, I'll stop,” he said laughing, “but this reminds so much of that first time we met in the library, you know?”

---4 years ago---

Exams week was fast approaching and Tsukishima knew that if he didn't get started on his studies, there's a possibility that he might overwork himself later on. More often that not, he'd receive “compliments” about being better than most students despite his reputation of being rather laid back or apathetic. Sometimes he'd reply with an strained smile saying something along the lines of “Ahaha, I don't think that's true at all. Maybe I just study longer than the average person?” and would proceed to slip on his headphones in annoyance.

In truth, it felt quite suffocating when he received backhanded compliments like those. It was like attributing all his hard work to just talent alone- and never once mentioning the time and effort that was needed to reach the success of where he is today, and-

He sighed. Maybe I'm just sensitive.

Despite the time that had passed, he felt like he was affected by those kinds of words way more than his former teammates were. His heart really wasn't into academics even though he excelled at it, but to people like his teammates who work themselves to the bone being labeled as “just talented” felt insulting, to say the least. Because he himself saw how dedicated they were to the sport (unlike me, he thought), and people haphazardly calling it their talent was like saying they didn't do anything to achieve the skill they have at present.

Ah it doesn't matter, you're still in touch with most of them anyway.

Most of them.

He took his time thinking about where he could possibly find peace and quiet inside the campus... if there even was such a place. Although his department would likely be off limits considering how a lot of people knew who he was, he couldn't exactly study in the hallways of other departments since he doesn't really belong there. Maybe a nearby café? But he might meet some of his peers there.. How about the cafeteria? No one really stays there, but it is full of of noise--

Oh. The library?

An odd choice on his part since no one actually uses it, but why not? It fits his standards perfectly.

In any case, I should probably start now, he thought. Standing outside the rather unimpressive exterior of the library, he started doubting if this was actually a good choice. I mean, look at it. It was the only unlit area of the school like it was trying to purposefully ward off people. The doors were covered in grime from decades of being left unused, and the rust forming on the handles were layered in oil because apparently the school couldn't afford new ones.

Let's just get this over with.

Slightly cringing at the rusty sound the hinges made, he slowly pushed open the heavy wooden doors before he was blinded by the bright rays of sun that filled the area.

Towering shelves of odd shapes and sizes filled the grand room. Although layers of dust had accumulated between the wooden floorboards, not a single speck could be seen on the thick hardbound books that had occupied every corner of the library. Wooden tables were neatly arranged in parallel groups accompanied by an assortment of random chairs and cushions placed haphazardly that kind of gave the “neat but chaotic” feeling. Looking up, you could see orange lights flickering in warm hues, radiating a friendly aura to those who wish to spend their time sitting inside this room that might understandably be mistaken for something akin to paradise. But what was most impressive of all was the sleek baby grand piano sitting at the very middle of the room, perfectly homey amidst the calm interior of the sunlit library.

In awe, he examined the room, wondering how such a beautiful place was left unnoticed by so many people. Wandering amidst the tall shelves, he spotted someone moving from a slightly hidden area behind several sections. He slowly made his way there, wanting to see just what this person was doing, before he saw who it was.

Of all people, it was Yachi.

He swiftly inhaled out of surprise as he tried to convince himself that the person sitting in front of him wasn't who he thought she was. On the other hand, her eyes simply widened as she processed his face, holding a book that was dangerously close to being dropped. Tsukishima's mouth was agape for a while before he managed a stuttering “h-hey..?” which earned him a wordless stare from his former manager.

She tried to hold herself back from reacting to his uncharacteristically awkward attempt of greeting her. When he realized this, a throaty laugh escaped him just before they both fell into a misfit of giggles. Who would've thought they would meet again after their graduation? He smiled and occupied the seat before her as they each caught up in the odd chain of events that was their lives, talking just like they did before as if not a day had gone by since they last saw each other.

---Present---

“...And we just started hanging out after that.” Hitoka said as she took a bite from her plate, pointing her fork at him afterwards, “didn't we use the library more often, too?”

“We did, actually. It's probably because we weren't there to use the books.”

“Oh that's true.”

“Except during exam weeks when we both had to tutor each other.”

“More like you tutoring me since I'm pretty slow.”

“Hmm..” Kei contemplated, “yeah that's accurate.”

“...Ahaha,” she said darkly, “you were supposed to say something like 'that's not true!' to comfort me.”

“I don't lie now, do I?”

And Hitoka just gave him the surprised pikachu face before slamming her hand down the table saying something along the lines of “you take that back!” while trying desperately to defend herself from Kei's casual, yet, witty comebacks. The cycle of bickering had repeated several times, and suddenly both of them were engaged in a heated argument about... something. The two people sitting on the table was a nonchalant Kei eating peacefully, and a stammering Hitoka blushing from embarrassment. If anyone outside so happened to look inside their house, they would see two idiots arguing for absolutely no reason.

“Now now, let's stop this shall we?” Kei said with a smile, completely ignoring the gawking Hioka in front of him. “It's getting rather late so we should probably get some sleep” he said while stacking plates and glasses on top of each other. He  silently walked towards the sink, holding the stack carefully until one of the glasses decided to yeet itself and fall to the floor. So of course, Hitoka wanting to have something to hold over Kei, took advantage of this and decided to make fun of him.

Turning, he smiled sweetly despite the annoyed aura surrounding him.

“I think this conversation had gone past its initial purpose don't you think?” He stepped towards the shorter female, eyes glinting with hidden intent. Taking advantage of the immense height difference, Kei looked rather intimidating as he towered himself over her. He slowly walked towards Hitoka who stood still in response. He placed his hand on her shoulder and said:

“We're going to sleep now, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” She said.

“Good.” Tone changing, he returned back to the calm person Hitoka’s used to seeing.

Their large bedroom was usually quite dark as soon as night falls, but today, however, the moonlit sky illuminated the room, sending wisps of light bouncing off different surfaces, making the room shine in the colors of the night sky. The neatly arranged white sheets of the large bed in the middle of the room was immediately wrinkled as the couple decided to lay side by side in the middle, peacefully drifting off to sleep.

Well, at least Kei did.

Some time had passed before Hitoka heard Kei softly snoring beside her. His soft hair was tousled by all his moving while he softly mumbled in his sleep. She watched him quietly in the darkness, stifling a giggle so as not to wake him up. Although she was oftentimes extremely tired after working at home and handling the chores, she felt an unfamiliar feeling of wakedness that she hadn't felt in a long time. Not wanting to tire herself more, she then decided to get up and read something instead to help her sleep. Slowly reaching for the book atop a nearby desk, she carefully took the said item and began reading under the clear, moonlit sky.

…

Ahaha.

Hitoka felt disappointed in herself.

One more page, she said. I'll be done in a few minutes, she said.

Except that clearly wasn't the case, seeing how it's already 7 in the damn morning.

This is what books do to you. You pick them up, thinking that it's a harmless object that casually passes the time until you check the clock and see that a decade has already passed. Books mess with your sense of time, and she knew that all too well given her habit of reading every so often.

It even messes with your sense of hearing. Rain had been pouring for quite some time now, but obviously she was too busy to notice. And although Kei was a deep sleeper, the loud  gushing sounds of rain (that's apparently inaudible to Hitoka) had stirred him awake. He slowly sat up and met his wife's baggy eyes looking back at him while she held a thick book in her hands that clearly indicated what she'd been doing the past few hours.

“Ahaha..” his wife laughed nervously, obviously guilty about what she's done, “good morning..?”

He just stared at her blankly in response.

“I'm not even going to ask.” he said stoically as he pulled over the blankets and went back to sleep.

Hitoka pretended to be insulted as she buried him in pillows and placed a small stuffed Dino on top of the fortress she had made on top of him, as if marking her territory. She huffed proudly which furrowed her eyebrows just a little bit. But when he didn't react, she just assumed he was asleep and went back to reading the book right beside him, deciding to accompany him until he woke up again.

When the rain had quieted down to a gentle drizzle she quietly asked:

“Hey, are you awake?”

Amidst the amount of pillows balancing on top of him, he met her eyes a second time and can't help but think how in the world did such a sweet person end up with someone salty as him? He’d been nothing but apathetic to her when they first met, so it truly is a wonder as to how and why they ended up together. Eyes wetting, he reached for her, long arms escaping the fortress and-

He hugged her.

And that was enough.

No I-love-yous, kisses, or words were exchanged. She understood. And that was all that matters. Cradling him gently, she let him stay in that position until he pulled away with a peaceful smile on his face

---4 years ago---

“Hey Tsukishima...” Yachi started.

“Mm?”

“Isn't spring supposed to be the season of cherry blossoms and youth?”

“Mhmm.”

“Then why..” she said, pointing outside, “is it raining so hard?”

“I was gonna ask the same thing.”

Ever since they started hanging out, the library had become some sort of a special place to the both of them. It served as a change of environment from the bleak sceneries they're used to seeing day by day; as if it was like a gentle reminder that there was a place for just the both of them.

But even the homey feeling of the library couldn't permanently ward off the glum aura that came with the rain. Which is why both of them were standing right outside the building.

Yachi sighed. Neither of them had brought an umbrella since the weather forecast said that the chances of it raining today were slim to none. So what were they supposed to do now?

“Hey, let's just go back inside,” she said motioning him to come with her, “Maybe we can borrow- hey Tsukishima?” she tugged on his sleeve, but he hadn't moved a single inch. “Come come, let's go inside now”

“Say..” He turned, looking straight at her. “Have you ever played in the rain as a kid?”

“Huh? My mom was strict so no I haven't. Why do you ask?

Without a word, Tsukishima cheekily smirked in response. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her under the rain while Yachi's usually unreadable face gave way to one that just looked at him in surprise.

“What are you-!”

“Now is the time to do it, no? Rain is very rare after all.”

Tsukishima simply chuckled as he held her wrist tightly, not wanting to pass up the opportunity to make memories under the sky of white velvet whose tears invite a cascade of umbrellas to color their gray world. The people around them stared, silently judging the two odd individuals under the rain: a girl protesting but not pulling away, and a guy determinely leading her with a warm smile plastered on his face.

They were just surrounded by so many people. And when you're surrounded by so many people, it can be lonelier than when you're by yourself. You can be in a huge crowd, but if you don't feel like you can trust anyone or talk to anybody, you feel like you're really alone. But in this moment, as the two of them held hands laughing, it didn't matter if they were the only two people in the world, for they felt that each other's company was more than what the world could offer.

---Present---

“That was so cringey.” Kei said, disbelief written all over his face after he recalled the memory with his wife. “'Rain is very rare after all'-- who says that??”

“You did,” she snickered, only causing him to bury his face even further.

“I'm done. I'm so done.” he said, standing up, “I'll make some coffee to clear my thoughts.” Deeply inhaling, he left the room with a twinge of red coloring his face. Following him, she stood up as well, preparing to face the day ahead of her.

Tags: @neoheros @coophi @perruvianily

[robinsarm]

Heya!! Can I get some sleepy Quentin headcanons? I'm on a "monster befriends human" kick, so maybe something involving that? You said you needed ideas, so here ya go?

Sleepy Quentin, huh, @chaoticlovingdreamer? I think I can scrounge up a couple >:3

I assume that a lot of people see Quentin as a pill or caffeine fiend, especially while he lived in the real world. But what I think some people forget is that he also has ADD/ADHD as stated by his movie. Do you understand what lack of medication and exhaustion does to a person with ADHD? It's not fun, I'll say that much.

When Quentin is really hitting the bottom of his energy tank he gets more and more distant from everyone else. He'll stop talking, start sitting further away from the fire, and intrusive/depressing thoughts start to riddle his mind. Since a healthy dose of sleep isn't on the menu for Quentin usually, he'll start to cope with his exhaustion in other ways; other ways that aren't healthy and can be left up to the imagination for now.

Some of the survivors that have been there the longest have learned to spot these signs from Quentin before he begins "coping". They'll immediately get up and take him for walks or bring him back to the fire and in front of 20+ other sets of eyes. Claudette, Ace, Meg, and Laurie are usually the nicest and manage to cheer him up faster than anyone else. Steve, in recent years, has also grown to notice and make sure his teammate is okay.

Have you ever seen the joke of someone getting hit in the head on a cartoon and they fall flat on their face, knocked out? Visualize that, and realize Quentin does that on a regular basis just without the hitting part. Like someone with narcolepsy, when Quentin’s brain and body are tired of being awake, he’s out like a light; heaven forbid he’s standing near anything sharp when this happens. From time to time, Quentin will just suddenly fold like a GMOD player hit their kill key. There’s no waking him up for a while after that. So far, it’s never happened in a trial; who knows why, Quentin is just grateful for that much. 

When Quentin is tired and actually decides that he’d rather sleep then Collapse™, he will pass out just about anywhere. On the logs, in the bushes, up a tree (won’t do that anymore because he’s prone to falling out of said trees), on someone. Quentin has no shame when it comes to finding a place to rest his head for a minute and the others, for the most part, are fully understanding.  

Sleepy Quentin can also be confused with what Drunk Quentin would look like, only in his movements, however. I’d compare it to those really yanking pulls that Boiled Over can do in-game that just send the killer 5 meters to the left. Yeah...Quentin will do that a lot when he’s really tired. It’s normal to see him firmly planted on the ground when he’s extra tired just so he doesn’t fall into something or someone. (He took out a game of Blackjack that Ace and Bill were playing and felt incredibly bad afterwards) If Quentin can help it, he won’t move when he’s on the very verge of passing out. 

Not so much headcanons but two scenarios I’d like to imagine have happened to Quentin:

I.

Quentin doesn’t sleep due to Freddy’s constant torment that he resumes every time the survivor falls asleep. But Quentin isn’t the only one Freddy torments. It’s been known that Freddy will hop from person to person if Quentin goes for too long without sleeping. However, the killer once made the mistake of pulling the same shit on the Legion which earned him a proper beating from the four teens afterwards. Because of this, the Legion made sure that the Nightmare can’t enter Ormond unless he’s in a trial. 

(I have a personal headcanon that killers can ask the Entity to block a different killer from entering their realm if given proper reasoning, and that’s how I’d see the Legion being able to keep Freddy out of Ormond)

Quentin, by an odd string of occurrences, ends up at Ormond and gets to talking to the killers - since they’re in a good mood. One of them brings up how shitty Quentin looks and actually offers if he’d want to sleep there for a bit. Quentin, taken slightly off guard, shrugs the invitation off, explaining Freddy would just show up and start attacking him again. The Legion, ever so boastful, counters with their story and clue him in on the fact that the Nightmare can’t enter the realm outside of a trial. Quentin’s not buying it but the killers insist just to prove themselves right, eventually having to hold the boy at knife-point to get him to stay and sleep. After a three hour, uninterrupted nap, Quentin wakes up and realizes they were telling the truth.

Regardless, Quentin doesn’t trust the Legion. However, if he’s feeling exceptionally tired and has a few 100k bloodpoints lying around, Quentin will pay the Legion to let him sleep for a few hours, undisturbed. They’re happy to take his money and he’s happy to sleep off his exhaustion.

Still, Quentin does sleep at the fire on occasion; he does only because of the fact Freddy wants him. If Freddy can’t get to Quentin, he’ll start tormenting and hurting his friends. Since Quentin doesn’t want that, he keeps his trips to Ormond few and far between. 

II.

There’s one killer Quentin never thought in his life he’d manage to “befriend” outside of trials. Slinger is a fat no; the man is still a hard-ass to everyone other than Zarina. The Yamaoka family keep to themselves and kill anything on sight. The original four are apathetic towards everyone. Michael, Freddy, Ghostface, Pinhead, Nemesis, Pyramidhead - all psychopathic monstrosities that earned their own circle in hell. I could go on.

No, of all the killers to actually show any sort of compassion (or just lack of hostility) towards Quentin was the Demogorgon. 

It started during a horribly unfortunate trial on Azarov’s. Felix and Yun-Jin were long since dead, leaving only Quentin and Feng to do the last two generators. The thing was, Feng seemed to be trying her absolute hardest to screw Quentin over every time the killer got close. She ran in front of him while they were both running from the killer, she blocked pallets, blocked windows, if the killer got close she immediately hid behind anything large enough. Sure she apologized at the beginning of the trial, but those quickly trailed off. Quentin just wasn’t in the mood for it. So, when he went down for his third and final time due to Feng’s not-so-subtle body blocking, Demo surprised both of them by not picking up the boy immediately. Instead, the killer hunted down Feng (for all of 20 seconds) and threw her onto a hook immediately, not leaving her until she was dead and gone. Quentin had the foresight to bring Unbreakable before entering the trial, so, by the time Feng had reached second stage, he was up and running. 

Even though hatch was visible before Feng died Quentin couldn’t find the damn thing to, literally, save his life. As he ran back into the territory where the killer was last, Quentin’s hope began to dwindle more and more as he heard and saw nothing. Demo, seeming to appear out of thin air, found him first and shred-tackled him into the dirt. On his back, Quentin thought he was going to be mori’d for sure, but then something...worse happened. The killer regurgitated Feng’s med kit onto his chest then stepped off and away from Quentin. Quentin didn’t know whether to thank the killer or puke himself. The amount of slime and saliva that drenched his clothing and neck had him pressing his mouth shut tight. What the hell is this killer doing? was the only thought in Quentin’s mind as he pealed the kit from his chest. 

Quentin didn’t believe that Demo could sit on his haunches like a dog before that trial, but he does now. 

The killer only watched as Quentin used the non-soaked medical supplies on himself until he was fully healed. Afterwards, the killer rose and started walking towards the killer shack. When Demo realized Quentin wasn’t following, it turned back, pathed behind the survivor, and herded him towards the decrepit building. Quentin had seen a lot when it came to weird shit, but this experience was quickly climbing the list. Rounding the far corner of the shack, Quentin found the hatch humming where it usually was. He turned and saw the Demogorgon, not trying to stop him but lying down like it was ready to take a nap. 

Quentin pointed to the hatch with his free hand. “I can have that?” The killer, not understanding human speech, looked down at the hatch then back up to Quentin. The survivor figured that was good of an answer as any, thanked the killer with a shaky voice, and hopped into the backdoor exit. 

Ever since that trial, Quentin has had this weird relationship with the Demogorgon. It’s fully based off the killer’s mood at the time, but for the most part, the pair seem to respect one another at the very least. Some trials, Demo will slaughter everyone mercilessly; others, the killer attacks everyone but Quentin. The survivor hasn’t found any rhyme or reason to the killer’s decision on how to treat him that day, but he’s grateful for the break when they come. 

[huntertales]

Part One: Abstinence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder. (Rock And A Hard Place S09E08)

Episode Summary: Sheriff Jody Mills enlists the help of Y/N and the Winchesters to help investigate multiple kidnappings that belonged to the same chastity group. The three decide to infiltrate the group for themselves. But things go wrong when Y/N and Dean disappear. Sam and Jody must rescue them before it’s too late. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,223.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

NOTE: Yes, this is a repost. I edited a few things around because I didn’t like it when I read it over. Took me a few days to actually get around to doing such thing. Sorry about that, but please enjoy!

Dean wasn’t sure if he should be concerned at the state he found you in when he walked into the kitchen this morning, or take a picture to tease you about this later. It seemed you were in the process of eating breakfast before you somehow fell asleep at the table, your head cradled in your arms as you quietly snored, notifying Dean that you were in a deep sleep. You hadn’t taken a hunt in the past couple of days since coming back from New York, giving you and the boys a chance to catch up on some sleep between looking for jobs and trying to figure out how to fix the mess Metatron made. While you helped when you could, your sleep hadn’t been disturbed all that much. Dean thought this might have been the first time since you started hunting you’ve gotten a healthy amount of sleep. 

He could tell because you slept like the dead last night. Dean had to lovingly, but quite forcefully, push you off his chest so he could get a jump start on the day. Normally it was you who slipped out of bed first and Dean eventually got himself up. Instead you rolled over to your side of the bed and slept for another twenty minutes before you got up. You seemed your usual self when you woke up this morning, eyes half-shut and grumpy, signaling to him you forced yourself up against your own will. On mornings like this Dean learned to wait until your first cup of caffeine to speak a word to you. It seemed you had just done that from how the pot was still hot and plenty full for everyone else. But for some reason, you were still exhausted and in need of a little cat nap. 

“Sweetheart?” Dean quietly spoke out to you, making sure to keep his voice at a soft enough level so he didn’t disturb you from your slumber. Normally you were a light sleeper on a good day. He made his way over to the table and leaned over to see your peacefully sleeping face. You were out cold. His lips twitched into a small smile at how adorable you looked. Dean knew he was going to get it from what he did next, but to hell with the consequences. He never got the chance to prank you like he did with Sam. 

Dean made his way over to the table with a bowl in hand and a little too roughly dropped it down, causing you to wake up abruptly and with a rush of panic. The man snickered to himself behind his coffee cup as he watched you frantically look around the kitchen wondering where the noise came from. When you realized who was to blame for your rude awakening, there was a few second delayed reaction before you rolled your eyes. 

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Dean greeted you, smiling from the way you tried to fix your disheveled hair and smooth down your wrinkled top. “Did I disturb you?’

“What? No.” You mumbled. You rubbed your eyes like a tired child and forced yourself to keep a yawn from escaping your mouth. Sam happened to come into the kitchen right as you dropped your arms into your lap. The younger Winchester gave you a slightly confused reaction at your groggy demeanour. Your face scrunched up in annoyance from his lingering stare. “What are you looking at, Sasquatch?” 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Sam asked you out of concern, wondering if a bad nightmare kept you up most of the hours. None of you were strangers to restless nights due to a wandering mind that went to dark places you traveled to. Your entire life was a living nightmare, your past troubles liked to come and haunt you when you tried to sleep. But it seemed that wasn’t the case for you. 

“On the contrary, she slept like a drunk baby. I had to pry her off me this morning.” Dean answered his brother’s question for you on his behalf. “And I caught her napping on the table.” 

“Before either one of you waste your breath, I’m fine. It’s just…I’m fine.” You reassured the younger Winchester before he could bombard you with his typical worried expression and a follow up question. Despite your lack of a proper answer to explain your exhaustion, you didn’t want them to worry. They liked to over exaggerate things when it came to you. It's always been that way. Lately you didn’t want them looming over your shoulder, asking you every few minutes if you were feeling okay. Before either one of the brothers could drag out this conservation farther, you quickly changed the subject. “How’s Kevin? Has he found anything yet?” 

“Jack. He’s on about four days of no sleep.” Dean said. He grabbed the box of cereal and poured himself a bowl while Sam joined the both of you at the table after fixing himself a cup of coffee. “He looks worse than you.” 

“Dean, please. You know Sammy doesn’t like it when you flirt with me out in the open like this.” You replied with a sarcastic remark with a little hope the boys might think you were in decent shape after all if you were able to keep up with the petty banter. Despite how you looked. Somehow you thought you might feel worse. “What about Crowley? Do you think he might be lying about the whole ‘Metatron spell being irreversible’ thing?” 

“Crowley lie?” Dean pretended to sound shock at such a possibility, causing Sam to scoff between sips of his coffee. While the situation was grim, there was a small silver lining that you might be able to use to your advantage over the demon. “I do know one thing. Next time that junkie’s jonesing for a hit of blood, we got leverage.” You were about to agree with the plan, knowing it was better than anything you had, but the words failed to come out of your mouth. Instead a rather loud yawn escaped first. “Seriously, you want a pillow?” 

You rolled your eyes from your boyfriend’s concern hidden behind his behavior. “I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look so good, Y/N.” Sam shared his concern along with his brother’s. He’d been silent for most of the conversation since settling beside you. It didn’t take much observations to see you weren’t looking that great as of lately. He was starting to grow uneasy with the possibility that there might be something wrong with you. Something deeper than you realized. “Do you feel like you’re getting sick?”

“I’m not sick. I just—I feel like my battery can’t recharge.” You admitted to them, trying to explain how you felt to the best of your ability to them. “I don’t know. It’s probably just stress or something.” 

You reached for your bowl of soggy cereal when the room fell into a moment of silence. The brothers glanced over at one another from hearing how you felt. A string of unspoken words were said between them as they processed what you explained about your current situation. You were being held together from the inside out with duct tape and angel grace. Things weren’t moving quick or as efficient as they wanted. Despite wanting to talk about it, Ezekiel remained silent on a possible reassuring update, choosing to stay silent. 

You scooped up a spoonful of flakes and stretched out your head to take a bite, only stopping at the sound of a cell phone going off. Dean reached a hand inside his pocket to pull out his phone after realizing it was his own and answered the call. The person on the other line was a familiar one to the boys, you however gave the older Winchester a slightly confused expression at hearing the name he greeted. 

”Who’s Sheriff Mills?” You whispered to Sam, wondering why the name sounded a bit familiar, just not enough for you to put a face to a name. 

“Jody Mills? The sheriff up in Sioux Falls? We worked on a case with her years back with all the dead people rising in town?” Sam tried refreshing your memory. You thought about it for a second before shaking your head, coming up blank. He tried to resist the urge to pass his brother a look of disbelief as he continued on to try and jog your memory. “She went on a blind date with Crowley and nearly died.” 

“Oh. 

 Jody.” You finally figured out who was on the other line, your fingers snapping at your eureka moment before the call could be put on speaker for all of you to talk to the woman to see what she was calling about. 

“Uh…I got a bit of an oddball to pitch your direction.” Jody said. You leaned forward to listen to the call better as you placed your elbow on the table to cradle your head. For a second you swore you heard a faint sound of something crashing in the distance. “A small town I cover outside of Sioux Falls—only crime to speak of being the occasional cow tipping. Then last week, four people go missing.” 

“All right, so, what makes you think this is our kind of weird?” Dean asked the woman. 

“I’ve got a witness who says he saw someone lift an S.U.V. to nab a girl last night.” She told you the key detail that made her think of the boys and call them for some extra help. 

“Huh.” You glanced over at the boys with a rather intrigued expression as the possibility of another case for you to dig a little bit deeper into to see if it might be a hunt. “I don’t know about you, but I’d say that’s definitely our kind of weird.” 

+ + +

 You and the boys packed up your things and made the drive up to South Dakota to visit the sheriff. You figured it wouldn't hurt to keep yourselves busy while Kevin worked himself to the bone with the tablet. All of you decided to meet at the latest crime scene and go from there while you caught up on details. You were happy to be out of the bunker and moving around. You hoped going back on another hunt might give you a second wind. There was nothing better than a couple of missing people to get the adrenaline pumping. You just wished you knew what was making you so damn tired. You bit back another yawn when the Impala pulled into the parking lot of some diner. 

You were the last one to get out when Dean parked the car next to the sheriff’s truck, still moving a bit slower than you intended. The boys greeted Jody with wide smiles and tight hugs after seeing her again. You slammed the backseat door shut and smoothed out your outfit before approaching the woman, giving her a friendly smile. However it seemed she wasn’t expecting to see you. Your smile faltered slightly at the confused and startled expression that crossed her face. It seemed the boys failed to mention about your resurrection from the dead when they called to see how she was after everything that went down earlier this year with her blind date with the King of Hell. 

“What’s wrong, Jody? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Dean joked with the woman, finding her reaction at seeing someone who thought was dead was rather funny. She turned her head to look over at the man, demanding an explanation. “Yeah. We felt the same way when I saw her again. It’s a long, messy story.” 

“I’m 

 a ghost. Or a zombie.” You reassured the woman before she could try and process how you were somehow alive. “It really is a messy story. Short version of it all: not really dead, just lost my memory and thought I was someone else for two years.”

“It never is easy with you boys, huh?” Jody felt the need to ask. You could hear the humor in her voice at the trouble that seemed to follow them. “Anyway, it’s nice to see you again, Y/N. Glad you’re not dead.” 

“Me too.” You agreed with the woman, smiling at how her personality peeked through her words. From what you remembered about the woman all those years ago when Bobby was still alive, you liked her. And the things the boys mentioned about her during the drive here made you think she was going to be a good friend to have on your side. “Luckily, I’m back and ready to hunt down whatever is kidnapping these people.” 

“That’s the spirit. So, car was right over there, ass over teakettle.” Jody gestured over to the other side of the parking lot where the abduction took place, all that remained was the broken glass from the car that was currently being swept up by a maintenance worker. “Now, normally, if somebody would tell me that one guy lifted an S.U.V, I’d tell him to take a flying leap, but after what I’ve seen and now heard…” 

“Nothing’s impossible.” You said. You opened up the case file to one of the missing people and skimmed through the information, wondering if there might be something important here to make note of while the boys went through the others. "How does this match up with other missing people?” 

“Well, four abductions, strong evidence left at every scene—literally.” Jody said. 

“So, the first vic was a pastor?” Sam asked, wondering if there was another more solid connection to the rest of the victims. 

“Yeah. Door of his study was punched in. And the next two—an engaged couple.” Jody explained the case in better detail. You looked down at the case file Dean laid open on the trunk of the Impala and the black and white photograph attached. All of the victims appeared to be the small town folk who were innocent at first glance. Someone went out of their way to snatch them up. 

“Locked bedroom window was ripped open.” Dean noted the similarly strange and destructive pattern between each kidnapping. 

‘And then we have our waitress here with the topsy-turvy ride.” Jody added. 

“Any other connection among them?” Sam wondered. 

“Yeah. They were all members of Good Faith church here.” Jody said. You narrowed your eyes slightly while you thought of the possibility of what might be might be to blame for this if there was a religious connection to all of this. You and the boys dealt with something like this a little similar earlier in the year. “My church group back in Sioux Falls was in a tizzy over it.” 

Dean hummed his response at hearing the sheriff and her new found spiritual faith. You tossed him a dirty look at his reaction to the woman’s faith to God. She had every right to believe in whatever she wanted, even if you didn’t feel the same way. Jody seemed to have picked up on the same feelings you had when she asked him what that was all about. “I didn’t peg you for churchy.” 

“Yeah. You know…choking on the ladies’ room floor ‘cause of witchcraft kind of makes a higher power seem relevant.” Jody gave the man a truthful response to her sudden urge to join a church. You offered a weak smile when you saw her eyes direct over to you. “And seeing someone you were told was dead doesn’t help, either.” 

“Jody, are you sure you’re ready to jump back into the fray?” Dean asked the woman in a concerned tone of voice, knowing all the things she witnessed last year and the passing of Bobby didn’t help the woman. But it seemed he underestimated her. 

“This wackadoo stuff keeps coming. More I know, better armed I’ll be.” Jody gave an honest response to the man’s question. She was a sheriff, after all. If she wanted to protect her town from creatures that went bump in the night, she was going to have some practice in order to do that. You had a feeling from what Jody witnessed over the years, it was going to take a lot to scare the woman to the core. 

“Okay, so, we have missing church folk and super strength.” Sam summarized what all of you knew at the moment so far about the case. He decided to take a shot in the dark, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to throw his theory out there. “Maybe angels harvesting vessels? Could be a Buddy Boyle type thing.” 

“Wh—angels?” Jody repeated the creature the younger Winchester spoke out in the open like it was nothing. She looked at all of you with disbelief at how casual you were being. “You’re joking.” 

“Don’t get your pants on fire.” Dean said, stopping the woman from becoming thrilled at hearing about creatures she thought only existed in the bible. “They suck.” 

“You said there was a witness.” Sam said, circling back to what Jody mentioned earlier. 

“Yeah, well…” Jody shrugged at the person who was waiting for you to talk to them. She didn’t seem too set on the idea they were going to be any help to you. “More or less.” 

You and the boys decided to get a booth inside the restaurant while Jody rounded up the witness so you could speak to them. You sipped the coffee you ordered out of politeness and patiently waited. A few minutes later Jody arrived with your witness, a homeless man who most likely camped out near the place from the looks of him. You offered a friendly smile when the man's eyes scanned across the table to see what this was all about. Jody pulled up a chair while she ushered the man to take the seat in the booth next to you when you slid over to be close to the window. He set his coffee cup down to the table, seeming comfortable enough to give his side of the story. 

“Okay, Slim.” Jody said. “My friends here want to talk to you about the missing girl.” 

“Honor. Her name was Honor.” The man started off by giving the missing girl’s name, indicating that he knew her on some personal level. And it seemed he remembered her from the kind behavior given to someone like him. “Nice girl. Always left me meatloafs.” 

“Slim, why don’t you tell us what you saw that night?’ Sam asked the man, hoping to get to the reason why he was here in the first place. 

“I heard a big noise, got woke, and there’s somebody over there lifting a car up—like this.” Slim demonstrated what he witnessed last night, lifting up his arms the way he saw the stranger did to the car, as if the several ton machine weighed nothing. 

“And did you happen to see who it was?” You asked him another question. 

“I was too far. But I saw a light go off.” Slim made sure to add a small detail he thought was important enough to mention. Sam guessed it was a white light, “Blue. Blue like fire. But not. Then she was—she wasn’t there.” 

“Could you think of anything else?” Dean hoped for a little bit more from the man, but Slim shook his head before he looked down to his cup of coffee. He was helpful enough for you and the boys at figuring out what you might be tracking. Dean pulled out a small wad of cash from his pocket and handed over a twenty dollar bill to Slim, hoping to give him a hot meal for his help. “Well Slim, thank you for your time.” 

Slim happily pocketed the money and went on his way with the cup of coffee he came over with. You let out a quiet sigh from trying to figure out the proper direction you should be going to figure all of this out. While you didn’t have much at the moment, Slim’s description of the kidnapping might have been something for you and the boys to go off on. 

“Okay. So, no white light. No angel.” Sam said, feeling confident enough to cross the creature off the list at the endless other monsters to blame. 

“Has anybody talked to the victims’ families?’ Dean asked the sheriff. 

“It’s next on my list.” Jody answered. 

“Okay, and you said that they were all part of the same church?” Dean’s question was replied with a nod of the head from Jody. This connection, strong or weak as it might be, was the only one you had going for you as a possible hunting ground of where this monster was picking their victims. It was better than anything. Your lips stretched into a frown when Dean looked over at you. “Ready to get your worship on?”

+ + +

You and the boys decided to change out your clothes meant for posing as federal agents in favor of something more casual. The church all four of your victims seemed the usual run of the mill place of worship. You pretended to play along as the new people in town interested in joining to get a better understanding of how things worked. The woman who helped give you a tour of the place was a little too friendly and squeaky clean for your liking. She smiled in delight when you and Dean introduced yourselves as a happy couple "engaged to be engaged" with his little brother tagging along.

You roamed around the church hand in hand with Dean while Bonnie, your overly peppy tour guide, told you all the things Good Faith church offered to its members and the public. Usual things like Sunday school and charities for the homeless. You decided to have a little fun and play into the whole loving couple when Bonnie mentioned the church was perfect for weddings as well. You smiled at her when she occasionally turned to see you and Dean whispering to each other, acting like a couple of crazy kids in love with a religious ceremony in mind. It wasn't that far off from the truth. You did love Dean, and while you wanted to marry him someday, a church would be the last place you'd choose to do it. 

After the tour was complete, the four of you made your way to Bonnie's office where she took a seat at her desk before gesturing for the rest of you to follow with the few chairs she had available. Sam missed out when his brother swiftly snatched the chair next to yours, causing Dean to smirk in victory while the younger man awkwardly looked around to find another seat and pulled it up next to the desk.

"We hope you enjoyed the tour." Bonnie said, the smile she greeted you with felt as if it never left her face. It was starting to make your cheeks hurt at the welcoming disposition she carried on. "Any questions before we get you all registered?"

"Yeah. Uh, look," You pretended to be apprehensive from the subject you were about to approach after she had been so kind to you. "Ms. Futchko—"

"Oh, please, dear." Bonnie quietly laughed at the formalities and corrected to you something more casual, wanting to treat this situation like you were among friends. "Bonnie will do just fine." 

"We love the church. We do." You cushioned the strange questions you were about to ask her, deciding to pretend and act as if you were a concerned citizen wondering what you might be getting yourself into. "But...well, we've heard that a few members have gone missing. And while my boyfriend likes to think he's Superman," You flashed a quick smile as you reached out to squeeze Dean's hand before letting it rest there to continue milking the little performance on sharing your fake concerns. "We’ve been talking in private about it. And to be honest…that kind of scares us.” 

"Let me assure you, with our increased security, Good Faith has never been safer." Bonnie told you, placing a hand to her chest to try and give all of you a better peace of mind. It seemed she was worried about her fellow churchgoer, just in the way a little too religious person thought was the best form of action. Leaving it up all to the chance God would intervene and save the day. "And those people who have gone missing, well, they are front and center in our prayers." 

"What a relief." Dean let out a breath at the reassuring sounding news, making Bonnie's smile return after it disappeared shortly from the change in conversation. "Now, you must have been close to them." 

"Well, we do share the A.P.U. bond." Bonnie. Dean pretended to be intrigued at hearing such a thing when he asked more about it. "Our chastity group. ‘Abstinence Purifies Us.’” 

You pretended to turn your head to another direction when you scratched your nose, the easiest way to sneak an eye roll of frustration at hearing the new connection to the victims. Out of anything, you should’ve seen the virginity angle coming from where you were. 

"Wow." Sam laughed and smiled, faking interest about such a group. "You mind if we sit in on that, maybe see if it's for us?"

“I’m afraid it’s members only. I'm sorry, but it can get pretty personal." Bonnie apologized for the inconvenience after offering so many things for you to join, but it seemed this one was off limits for obvious reasons. You, never being the one to miss an opportunity, jumped to it before either one of the boys could back out. 

“Then count us in.” You said, lightly smacking your thigh as you grinned. 

"Well, I'll be a squirrel in a skirt." Bonnie softly laughed in delight at hearing your eager enthusiasm to join a group, intidicating to her that the three of you were good Christians. You mirrored her behavior as you smiled over at Dean when he squeezed your hand a little too roughly, wondering what the hell you got yourselves into. "I'll be back in a jiff with the papers." 

Bonnie wasted no time jumping up from her seat and heading to another room across the way, allowing you to watch what she was doing. She opened up a filing cabinet and shuffled around some papers to find what she was looking for. Your attention fell back to Dean when you felt him softly smack your arm. 

“A chastity group?” Dean asked you, wondering if this was really how you wanted to spend your afternoon. And why you needed to drag him into your plan. You knew he would love to do anything else than listen to a bunch of horny virgins go on about temptations and sins brought on by the world. 

"It's not a bad idea." Sam seemed to have agreed with your plan of action, figuring out the same possible pattern you had. If you knew who was in the group, you might have a better chance at saving others from going missing. "If all the members were in A.P.U., then maybe whatever took them is stalking virgins." 

"And that Slim guy said he thought he saw fire." Dean added another little detail that went together with the virginity part. Something you've dealt with before. "So, what are you guys thinking, dragons?"

You never got the chance to finish the conversation when you saw Bonnie return back with the forms in hand. You cleared your throat and went back to acting casual as if that’s what you had been doing the entire time she was gone during the short period of time. You forced yourself to smile again when she handed you over a clipboard with a piece of paper attached. 

"You can just sign here, and your purification can begin." Bonnie instructed you, letting you glance down at the piece of paper. You read the title of the paper and slowly your expression fell as to what you were about to promise. Something you lost several years ago. You bit your bottom lip when Sam mentioned the pledge, only to be taken by someone who had never had intercourse before. "It's a commitment to your virginity." 

"I don't think we can really un-ring that bell." Dean thought he was funny with the innocent sounding joke, deciding to humor himself. Bonnie, however, stared at the man with a blank expression. It hadn't dawned on her just yet why you couldn't sign right away. "You know what I mean?"

A moment of silence fell across the room as Dean's smile faded away when Bonnie continued to stare at the man with eyes too wide for his personal comfort. Slowly, the wheels in her head started turning, making her realize the sins you've committed. "Oh. I see." Bonnie's gaze quickly darted away from you and Dean specifically, as if she was trying to hide her disappointment. However, like the good Chrisitan that she was, the woman offered you a chance at redemption. "Well...if you just ask for God's forgiveness for your sins and make a new vow of chastity, well, then you'll be born again as a virgin in His eyes." 

"So, you just hit the 'virginity do-over' button, and all is good with the man upstairs?" Dean's question meant to come off as sincere and curious, but he had a way of coming off a little igorent at times. Sometimes he didn't understand the kind of people he was dealing with and how to adapt.

"It's not a button." Bonnie corrected the man. Her tone of voice fell into a softer, and yet slightly colder one as she defended her personal views in a way to make him better understand. "And...this isn't just a piece of paper. I mean, this is your clean slate, your chance to be a virgin until marriage. Isn't that something you want? To be pure for each other until your wedding night, the way God intended?”

You raised your brow slightly from the way Bonnie tried to guilt trip you for doing something thought of as a sin. Premarital sex was the least horrible thing someone could do. However, just to get yourself into this damn group, you decided to pretend and feel remorseful for a second. You looked over to Dean, the both of you nodding your head and shared matching smiles. "Well, you had me at 'clean slate.' Right, sweetheart?" Dean asked you, clicking his pen to be the first one to sign. "Let's do this." 

You and the boys signed your names on the pledge and handed over the clipboards back to Bonnie's awaiting hands. She glanced down at the names you scribbled down and smiled in delight. "Congratulations Sam and Dean Winchester, and Y/N Y/L/N. You are all virgins." 

You found yourself letting out a quiet laugh at hearing something you hadn't heard in a while. Sam faked his enthusiasm while Dean took it a smidge too far, grinning a little too wide and seeming excited at the news. At least making a show out of it for Bonnie. You knew one thing for certain: this was going to be one interesting afternoon. 

Rewrite Taglist:

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[otomefoxystar]

Let Me Take Care of You

Fandom:  MLQC

Pairing:  Victor X MC

Warning: None

Genre: Fluff 

Word Count: 763

Written by: @otomefoxystar

For my friend @leoamber66 for @voltage-vixen discord giveaway. I feel so blessed to have met you and formed a friendship with you! 

Work had been hectic lately with a lot of different projects coming in and _ _ _ was practically running off a caffeine IV. When was the last time she slept? She didn’t remember anymore. She was typing furiously on her computer.

“ _ _ _?” She kept typing not hearing her name being called.

“ _ _ _!”

“ AHH!” She almost jumped out of her seat.

“ Christ Anna you shouldn’t scare me like that!” Anna cocked an eyebrow.

“ If you hadn’t ignored me the first time I called your name I wouldn’t have had to shout.”

“ I didn’t ignore you, I didn’t even hear you.” Anna furrowed her eyebrows

“ When was the last time you ate?”

She wracked her brain trying to remember when she did eat.

“ Uhh, last night before bed I had a candy bar.” Anna looked appalled 

She swung _ _ _’s chair around to face her.

“ You haven’t eaten since last night? It’s already four o’clock! Not to mention it wasn’t even anything substantial. You’ve got to take better care of yourself.” She huffed turned on her heel and strode off towards the office. 

_ _ _ sighed, she knew that Anna only had her best interest in mind, but she had to finish this before she could think about herself.

The lights had dimmed and she was rubbing her temples when someone cleared their throat behind her. She lifted her head up and turned her head to the side and she saw him standing there, shocked she turned around in her swivel chair.

“ Victor! What are you doing here?” He shook his head and crossed his arms looking at her sternly.

“ You are such a dummy. I got a text from Anna saying you haven’t eaten anything all day and have barely slept in days. Seeing as how she reached out to me I am assuming she is worried. I understand that you have a lot to do but if you don’t want to get sick you have to take better care of yourself.” She was dumbfounded and didn’t know what to say for herself.

“ You are spending the night at my place and I am ordering for you to take tomorrow off. Your employees can handle you being gone for one day.” 

“ Victor I appreciate the offer, but I’m so close to finishing this.” He creased his eyebrows.

“ It was not a request, you are coming with me now and you are going to eat and sleep. If you are going to finish your work you need a clear mind and a healthy body.”

He reached down and grabbed her hands and pulled her up out of the chair. He took a nice hard look at her seeing how her eyes looked sunken in and her hair lacked its usual shine, and she was having a breakout. 

He smoothed her hair and looked her in her eyes. He gave her a gentle chaste kiss on her lips. Then another kiss on her forehead.

“ Let me take care of you” He put his hand on her cheek.

“ When you say it that way I can’t deny you.” He smiled softly

“ Good, because I wasn’t going to let you deny me anyway”

Victor had treated her to a delicious meal as well as her favorite pudding, and now they were in his large bathtub with copious amounts of bubbles. As he washed her hair he massaged her scalp. She closed her eyes and let the sensation take over. She felt completely relaxed as if all her worries and stress had vanished under Victor’s gentle touch. He kissed her neck and began running the clean water over her head to rinse out the shampoo. Never had taking a bath felt so special. It was usually her that hounded him about working too hard, and now that the tables were turned she couldn’t help feeling happy at the way he was pampering her.

“ I want you to promise me something _ _ _.” She leaned back against his strong chest and he wrapped his arms around her body.

“ If you get stressed or you get worried about something come to me. It doesn’t matter how small it is I want to take care of you and love you. Let me be the strong one when you are feeling weak.”

“ Yes I promise Victor, but in turn, you have to promise that you will let me do the same for you.” 

He squeezed her tighter to himself and put his chin on her head and hummed. She lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. She sank into his embrace feeling warm from the water and his love. 

[silvermoongirl10swfics]

Learning to deal with emotionally crippling pain

For @codywanweek 2021 Day 2: AU (Modern University AU.)

You can also read this fic here on A03.

(The title of the fic will make sense after reading the fic.)

This is set at Manchester Metropolitan University in the UK, where I went to uni. As I wanted to combine the uni I loved going to with one of my favourite ships.

No major warnings, but there is a slight, non-graphic, description of how bodies were buried during the Black Death (this may seem very random, but I don’t want to gross anyone out.)

(I was inspired by @catawampuscorner​ drawing adorable baby clones in animal onesies, the cuteness now lives rent free in my brain and my brain desperately wanted to add baby clones and baby Jedi in animal onesies to this fic due to their wonderful drawings of the baby clones. So, I have referenced codywan and some other clones being youngsters in animal onesies near the end of this fic.)

Also Wolffe and Fox are twins because I thought of the idea about a month ago and loved it so much. 

Cody hefted his kit bag onto his shoulder and nodded in thanks to the bus driver as he stepped off the bus on Oxford Road. He turned hearing a loud thump and rolled his eyes, Fives had, against Cody’s and Rex’s advice, decided to sit on the top deck of the double-decker bus while carrying his heavy rugby kit bag. Unsurprisingly Fives stumbled and hit the wall of the stairs as he tried to walk down the steep steps, his bag over balancing him. Rex threw out an arm to steady their younger brother and then the two of them joined Cody on the pavement.

“We did warn you,” stated Rex with a roll of his eyes.

“Whatever,” griped Fives. Without another word, Fives was walking through All Saints Park, no doubt heading back to the student halls where he shared a flat with his twin Echo and six other first year students.

“I really hope Echo is better soon. I don’t know how much longer I can take Fives in this mood,” sighed Rex shaking his head.

“You and me both,” agreed Cody with a nod of his head at his younger brother.

Cody was the eldest of the four brothers, and was currently in his third and final year of studying his undergraduate history degree at Manchester Metropolitan University. Rex was eleven months younger than him and was in his second year studying law, Echo and Fives were their younger brothers who were twins. The family hadn’t thought that Fives was interested in going to university, which was fine with them as they didn’t want to push him into something he didn’t want. But when Echo announced his intention of going to study mathematics at the same university where Cody and Rex were studying, Fives suddenly announced that he was also going to Man Met to study physiotherapy. The twins were in their first year and two years ago, at eighteen, Cody had thought he would be getting some peace from his three younger brothers, in the end he only got one year of peace before his brothers joined him in quick succession. But thankfully he only had to put up with living with them when they were all home for the holidays. As Cody shared a one-bedroom flat with his long-term boyfriend Obi-Wan who had also chosen to study at Man Met, also in his third year, studying English literature. Obi-Wan and Cody had been best friends since their first day at primary school aged four, later confessing their romantic feelings for each other when they were sixteen, both coming down from the stress of getting their GCSE results. They hadn’t actually told each other where they were applying for university, not wanting to influence each other’s decision. But they still ended up at the same university anyway, not that Cody was complaining.

Like Cody, Obi-Wan had not been able to escape his younger brother. Anakin was friends with Fives and Echo as they were the same age, Anakin was in his first year studying engineering at Man Met. It was funny to Cody, because Echo and Anakin’s subjects were in the same faculty, they often saw each other as their lectures and seminars took place in the John Dalton buildings, whereas Fives went to lectures across the main road on the slightly smaller campus in the Brooks Building. Fives had always been protective of Echo, his reasoning being he was the older twin so had to look out for Echo. But after Echo got hurt in a car accident when they were fifteen driving home with their dad, Fives had grown even more protective, somehow blaming himself because he wasn’t there in the car with Echo. The youngest of the four brothers hadn’t been seriously hurt, but the accident had gained him a constant shadow. So, when the twins applied to the university, they looked at the map of the two campuses and picked Oxford Court for their student halls accommodation because it was pretty much in the middle of where the two of them would have their lectures and seminars.

With another look in the direction Fives had gone, feeling a rare moment of relief at seeing his brother walk away. Cody loved his brothers, but because Echo had gotten injured in their last rugby game, he couldn’t take part in practice and it had left Fives in a mood for the past week. Neither Echo, Cody or Rex could seem to talk Fives out of his mood, leading to Cody thinking he may have to call their parents to talk some sense into Fives. But he didn’t want to worry his mum, which is what would happen if Cody had to tell her Fives still wasn’t okay a week after Echo badly spraining his ankle. So, Cody’s only other option would be to call his twin cousins, Wolffe and Fox who were both in their third and final years of studying at the same university in London. Wolffe was studying sport science, while Fox was studying history like Cody, but with more of a focus on medical history while Cody preferred military history.

Wolffe and Fox were the closest cousins Cody and his brothers had, due to their parents all moving to Britain from New Zealand due to his father and uncle getting jobs with the same tech company before Cody, Wolffe and Fox were born. Leaving the rest of the aunts, uncles and cousins back in New Zealand with their grandparents. Cody then reflected, calling the other twins might not be a bad idea. Wolffe would be gruff but caring in talking to Fives and if that failed, Fox would just beat sense into him either verbally or physically. With there being direct trains from London to Manchester, Cody wouldn’t be surprised if Fox came in person to beat some sense into Fives. Fox had no patience for Fives’ protective older brother routine of Echo and that was down to Wolffe being protective of Fox. Which he hated, but to be fair to Wolffe, he was fully justified going by the amount of coffee and lack of sleep Fox was powering through to work on his assignments and dissertation. Despite the fact it was still January and Fox had three months left until he had to hand in his dissertation.

Thinking of dissertations, Cody waved goodbye to Rex and headed towards the cafeteria in the Business School building to get some tea for his boyfriend. Once he acquired the tea in a take away cup, he went next door to the library where Obi-Wan was working on his dissertation, thankful that their university library allowed food and drink as long as it was silent. Fox was insanely jealous as his university library forbade any food or drink to enter the building, meaning Fox was deprived of his precious coffee. Which was why Wolffe pushed Fox to work in the library as often as he could. Cody didn’t mind plying Obi-Wan with tea, because while he could say Obi-Wan was additive to his tea, he didn’t drink any caffeinated tea two hours before going to bed, unlike Fox who was known to drink a mug of coffee before going to bed if Wolffe hadn’t managed to stop him. It was a wonder Wolffe hadn’t gone grey with the amount of time he spent worrying over his twin brother.

Cody scanned his student card to let him past the barriers and started walking up the two flights of stairs to the floor Obi-Wan liked to work on. The library was massive, with its different wings and five floors, but Cody was glad it was so big because it could be divided into silent study areas and group study areas, where you could talk so long as you were quiet. Obi-Wan, like Cody, hated working in complete silence and in their first year they found a nook between some shelves that had a table where they could bring their own laptops to work on their essays together. But were conveniently close to university computers so they could log on to print their work if needed. It was also a space their brothers had been unable to find them in, although Cody was fairly certain Rex knew where he liked to work, but was kind enough to leave him alone. Anakin, Echo and Fives would not be as considerate.

He walked through the doors into the study area and walked halfway into the big room with its rows of computers and shelves of books, until he found Obi-Wan hunched over his notes and two books he was using for his dissertation. Cody silently reminded himself that he was due to meet with his dissertation supervisor tomorrow to check the progress on his second chapter. He placed the cup of tea on the table beside Obi-Wan’s laptop and pressed a kiss onto the mess of copper hair, noting that his boyfriend hadn’t shaved again, making him wonder if Obi-Wan was committing to growing a beard. If he did, it would be because Obi-Wan was fed up of people thinking he was sixteen or seventeen, rather than being almost twenty-one years old, something that delighted Anakin to no end. Obi-Wan slowly sat up and blinked owlishly at him and rubbed a hand over his face. “Rugby practice is over already?” he asked in confusion as he looked at his watch.

Cody snorted in amusement, “thankfully yes.” Obi-Wan had come to the library just after Cody left their flat for practice, that had been two and half hours ago.

Obi-Wan reached for his tea and sighed in pleasure when he sipped on the hot liquid. “Fives still in a mood then?”

“Yes,” he sighed in exasperation as he sat down beside Obi-Wan and putting his kit bag on the floor with a roll of his shoulder.

Raising a knowing eyebrow over the rim of his cup, Obi-Wan asked. “Are you going to call Wolffe and Fox?” Cody nodded in agreement, smiling to himself, happy at how easily Obi-Wan fit into his family. Obi-Wan, Cody, Wolffe and Fox had all gone through school together. Obi-Wan and Anakin’s dad, Qui-Gon, was a friend of Cody’s parents and often came over for dinner. According to his dad, Cody’s mum and Qui-Gon had been having wine nights when they lamented over their empty nests and how it was unfair how quickly their children were growing up. While Cody’s aunt just laughed at them because Wolffe and Fox had left home for university almost three years before.

They lapsed into silence, and Cody just let himself day dream as he listened to the clack of Obi-Wan’s keyboard. He also ran through a mental list of things he needed to do for his dissertation and thought he could do with another trip down to London to go to the National Archives again for some more primary sources. His phone buzzed and Cody snorted at the text message from Echo.

[Echo] Fives is in SUCH a bad mood! Please help me!

[Cody] Sorry Echo. Rex and I had him for two hours, we need a break.

[Echo] WORST BIG BROTHERS EVER!!!!

[Echo] I hope you marry Obi-Wan so I can adopt him as my favourite older brother.

[Echo] You know what. I’m not waiting until you marry him. He’s my favourite brother now.

Cody chuckled to himself, he couldn’t argue with Echo, Obi-Wan was his favourite person too.

[Cody] What WILL Fives say?

[Echo] Right now I don’t care. He’s driving me INSANE!!!!

[Cody] I was going to call Wolffe and Fox to see if they could help.

[Echo] PLEASE!!! I am BEGGING YOU!!!!

[Echo] You know what?

[Echo] Just skip straight to Fox.

[Echo] And record it. I want to relive that future moment for forever. Fox’s position as my favourite cousin will be secured.

Cody snorted in amusement again, Obi-Wan turned to him in question. So, Cody just showed him the messages and Obi-Wan shook his head in amusement, but he blushed slightly. No doubt due to Echo’s comments on Cody marrying Obi-Wan.

“Echo wishing harm on Fives. I never thought I’d see the day,” commented Obi-Wan, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter. No doubt remembering the times Fox lost his patience with bullies and idiots they went to school with and just went for them. Their aunt had to give Fox the disapproving lecture, but she also slipped Fox money for standing up to bullies for other kids. So, Fox’s handling of bullies and idiots had never been stopped, only been encouraged.

“Oh, Echo can be pushed to it,” chuckled Cody, recalling the few times Fives had made Echo lose his temper. Echo was a nice and quiet person, which also made him one of those people you did not want to make angry, because when his patience snapped. It snapped. He could be worse than Fox, and that said something.

“By the way, your dad text me. He’s invited me to a family reunion dinner in a month’s time. So, is anyone coming over from New Zealand?” Obi-Wan asked as he started to tidy his books away and turn off his laptop.

Cody nodded. “My grandparents are coming over in three weeks and are staying until the summer as they want to be here for mine, Wolffe and Fox’s graduations. Then a few of the cousins are coming over in the summer.” He smiled to himself; it would be nice to see his family members again. They all saw each other every year, one year Cody and his family would fly out to New Zealand and the next year the family would fly over to Britain for a few weeks. With all of the cousins now at university, it made sorting out reunions easier due to the longer holidays they all had.

Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkled with amusement again, “anymore family arguments to look forward to?” he laughed.

“Probably,” Cody sighed as he rolled his eyes. Obi-Wan had come out to New Zealand with him last summer and witnessed some truly spectacular family arguments and rather silly ones as well. The most prominent being about Fox and Echo’s names.

When Fox had been a toddler, he and Wolffe had been put into animal onesies (Cody and his brothers also shared that misfortune with their cousins, but the less said about that the better), Wolffe into a wolf onesie and Fox into a fox onesie. Ever since Fox wanted to be called Fox, as he hated his proper name, the name being Frederick. If anyone ever called him Frederick when he was a small child he bit them, leading to his parents to tell their school when they started that it would be best if they didn’t call Fox Frederick for the safety of their own fingers.

Then when Echo had been four and in school, learning about words that began with the letter E, he heard the word Echo and wanted to call himself that, because he didn’t like being called Eli. Cody’s mum had tried to tell Echo his name was Eli, but Echo said Fox picked his name, so why couldn’t he? Cody’s mum tried her hardest to get Echo to forget about calling himself Echo, seeing as he was named after his mum’s father-in-law Elias and didn’t want to offend him. But Echo just started repeating everything everyone said, until the point their dad begged their mum to just let Echo call himself Echo. Fives didn’t want to be left out, and chose the nickname Fives, but he wasn’t involved in the arguments because he let their grandmother still call him Felix. Echo and Fox on the other hand, both refused to answer to their given names. And Obi-Wan had witnessed their grandmother once again getting annoyed when Echo and Fox didn’t answer her when she called them Eli and Frederick. That was also the visit where Obi-Wan learnt just who Echo and Fox inherited their stubbornness from. Grandpa Elias was not offended and found the whole thing hilarious and continued to congratulate Echo on his name every time he saw Echo. Cody was also convinced, his grandmother only continued the argument for the sake of it, he had seen her handwriting in birthday cards calling Echo and Fox by their chosen names. But she still wrote Eli and Frederick on family Christmas cards, again probably just for the drama.

But some uncles and aunts were not happy with Echo and Fox changing their names, albeit not legally, because other cousins began following their lead. Namely their four cousins who were all siblings (two sets of twins), Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker and Tech. The four of them changing their names and even happily calling themselves the Bad Batch at family gatherings much to the ire of their mother. Fives was blamed for their collective nickname, as Obi-Wan found out and thought it was hilarious. The Bad Batch had invited Echo to play with them when they were small, and Fives who had not been invited to play had been jealous and called them the Bad Batch, the four of them had loved it and adopted it as their group name.

Obi-Wan started to laugh quietly to himself as he put his laptop away in his bag. At Cody’s questioning look he smiled and said. “I’m just wondering who will be the first to say something to disrupt family dinner. Either you, your brothers or your cousins will say something. You have done ever since the first family dinner I was invited to when I was five.”

Cody smirked to himself and nodded, “honestly I’m expecting it to be Fox again. You know he deals with stress in the weirdest ways.”

“You mean like putting everyone else off their food?” teased Obi-Wan, his eyes glinting at the memory of the last dinner everyone had together.

Over the four-week long Christmas holiday, Cody’s parents had hosted numerous family dinners, wanting to spend as much time together as possible. As it was understood with Cody, Obi-Wan, Wolffe and Fox graduating university later that year, they may not get to come home as often anymore. Also, as Cody’s uncle and aunt lived next door to them and Obi-Wan lived five houses further down the road, it was very easy for Cody’s uncle and aunt, Wolffe, Fox, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon and Anakin to join their family for dinner. Which also meant, Cody and Obi-Wan had to suffer the embarrassment of watching Qui-Gon and Cody’s mum tearfully looking at photos of them growing up, mourning the loss of their ‘little ones’. While Cody’s aunt sipped on her glass of red wine and cackled at them, saying it was better to have both her kids leave the nest at once, as she didn’t have to go through kids moving out more than once.

Cody had also been horrified to learn there existed a photo of him in an animal onesie after all, and to make it worse, he was four in the photo. He was at school, but because his mum wanted a picture of all her boys in their animal onesies, he had been put into his old lion onesie (mane included on the hood) that was getting too small for him. But it had interested him to see it was a group photo of all of them sat on the living room floor. Obi-Wan was also in the photo, in a onesie that resembled the fictional varactyl creature he had been obsessed with when he was four. His unimpressed look matching Cody’s, in the photo both of them had their arms crossed as they glared at their parents off camera. Wolffe and Fox were also in the photo, but too busy pulling on each other’s hoods, Wolffe almost taking off one of Fox’s onesie’s ears. Rex, at three, was happily beaming at their mum in his elephant onesie that included a small trunk attached to the hood. Leaning against Rex on his left was Anakin, who at two, was too busy trying to eat his own foot as he sat in his dog onesie. On Rex’s right was the little twins, Echo beaming at the camera in his giraffe onesie as he lifted a hand up to squeeze the felt face of the giraffe attached to the hood and Fives, in a moose onesie (seriously where had his parents found these?), was busy trying to grab one of his felt antlers and eat it. Apparently, their parents had kept all of the onesies, what they planned to do with them Cody couldn’t guess.

But while the onesie group photo had been embarrassing, it hadn’t put anyone off their food. No, that came when Cody’s dad asked all of them how university was going. Everyone listened as one by one, all the boys explained what they had been doing. The adults patiently listened as Cody, Obi-Wan, Wolffe and Fox talked about their dissertations and skilfully manoeuvring the conversation so as to avoid third year meltdowns as the families had taken to calling their tearful, stressed rants. While Rex, Anakin, Fives and Echo stared at them in dawning horror as they realised what was in their immediate future. Fox had given Cody advice on where to find primary sources, as Fox was writing his ten-thousand-word dissertation on the Black Death and at this point, was basically an expert on where to find medical documents from varying time periods. Which was immensely helpful for Cody because his dissertation was on the treatment of shell shock in the First World War.

Dinner seemed to then settle, with all the boys commenting on funny or interesting things they had heard at university. When Fox piped up, “I was reading a chapter for my dissertation when the author commented that they buried people who had died of the Black Death by lying down a layer of bodies, then a layer of soil, another layer of bodies, more soil, more bodies and then the final layer of soil. It was interesting that the author used the analogy of the bodies been buried like how you make a lasagne.”

Everyone stopped, many of the people gathered around the table stared at Fox, with forks paused in the air. Fox, oblivious continued to eat his dinner with a smile on his face. Which was lasagne. Wolffe just shook his head and sighed in exasperation as he stopped eating his portion of lasagne and instead reached for a piece of garlic bread. Obi-Wan, taking interest in the analogy, was asking Fox if he had come across any other analogies like it. Rex, Echo and Fives dropped their forks and looked at their food in faint disgust. Qui-Gon and Anakin, who normally didn’t find anything disgusting, looked down at the lasagne on their plates in muted horror. Cody’s parents and uncle just sighed, with his uncle massaging his forehead in exasperation, while Cody’s aunt lifted her wine glass up and saluted Fox with it before taking a sip (Fox was a lot like his mother). Cody raised an eyebrow at his cousin, Fox smirked and then reached for the serving dish in the centre of the table. “Oh, no one else wants anymore? Guess I’ll finish the lasagne up then,” Fox stated with a mock innocent look on his face. Wolffe just sighed again and thumped his head down onto the table. Leaving Cody with the impression that Fox was hungry and saw how quickly the food was disappearing and decided to take matters into his own hands.

As Cody and Obi-Wan walked out of the library holding hands, Cody turned to Obi-Wan and smirked. “It is safe to say, lasagne will not be on the menu.”

Obi-Wan laughed loudly as they made their way into the cold air outside, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. Obi-Wan also admitted that neither his father nor Anakin, had been able to eat lasagne since that dinner. Anakin had seen lasagne being served for lunch at the university one day and had practically fled the cafeteria.

Together they walked to the bus stop that was less than a minute walk from the library and sat in contented silence as they travelled from campus on the short bus journey to their flat. Their shoulders knocked gently together as they swayed as the bus pulled in and out of bus stops. Their hands were still clasped together, and Obi-Wan was looking out of the window with a smile on his face as he watched people go about their day. Cody found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Obi-Wan’s face, watching as his eyes crinkled as he smiled at the sight of a giggling child play peekaboo with their younger sibling. The bright winter sun turned Obi-Wan’s copper hair into flames and it was a sight that always memorised Cody without fail. It was the sight that led to four-year-old him talking to Obi-Wan on their first day at school because he had never seen someone with the same-coloured hair as Obi-Wan before. Cody only realised they had reached the bus stop they needed when Obi-Wan pressed the button to alert the driver to stop. He reached down for his kit bag and swung it up onto his shoulder, they walked off the bus, thanked the driver and continued walking while holding hands. Obi-Wan began to talk about a book he had had to read for one of his modules and while Cody never heard of the book before, he enjoyed seeing how excited Obi-Wan was about it.

Once they got inside their flat, Obi-Wan put his bag, that contained his laptop and some books, on the floor by the door and went into the kitchen. Cody watched him for a moment, glad to see Obi-Wan was distracted making them both some lunch. Cody sat at their table and turned his laptop on and logged into the website where he was creating a photobook of photos of himself and Obi-Wan throughout their lives as a birthday present. There were hundreds of photos of them together over the years they had known each other, there were photos of primary, secondary and sixth form last days. Seeing how they had changed in those years was endearing and funny at the same time. Cody caught Obi-Wan looking over at him and Cody playfully tilted his laptop screen away from Obi-Wan’s view, not that his boyfriend could see it from where he was anyway. Obi-Wan smiled and then turned back to the sandwiches he was making. Obi-Wan knew he was getting his birthday present, just as Cody was aware Obi-Wan was also organising his birthday present, as Obi-Wan’s birthday was two days before Cody’s.

Cody checked through the photobook one last time and then seeing that everything was as he wanted it, he clicked order and waited for the confirmation email to arrive. Once it had, he closed his laptop down and smiled as Obi-Wan, at that moment, walked up to him and handed him a plate with his sandwich and an apple.

“I love you,” Cody said with a smile.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes fondly, “ah yes. You only love me for my sandwich making skills.”

“You caught me!” chuckled Cody as he held his hands up in defence. They shared a smile and then both began eating their sandwiches in earnest. They chatted about friends from home who had gone to other universities or who went into work, the friends they had made in Manchester, the antics of crazy younger brothers and they also talked about if they wanted to do a Masters degree in their subject and if they did, where should they go? As it wasn’t a question about if they would go together, even if Obi-Wan decided to do a Masters and Cody didn’t, he was still going to move to whichever city Obi-Wan chose to go to for his Masters. But Cody was also liking the idea of doing a history Masters himself. “We could go to London. Wolffe and Fox are both going to do a Masters, we could go to uni with them.”

Obi-Wan frowned at him in amusement. “I thought you loved living in Manchester.”

“I do,” agreed Cody. “But I also want some peace from my brothers.” He added with a faked whining tone.

His boyfriend chuckled and then said. “You could apply to University of Manchester. So, you can stay in the city, but be in a different university to your brothers.”

Cody rolled his eyes. “As if that would stop them just turning up on Uni of’s campus,” he grumbled under his breath. He didn’t even think moving to the moon would stop his brothers from turning up to inconvenience him.

Obi-Wan just chuckled to himself as he shook his head, having to admit that going to Uni of would not stop Rex, Fives and Echo from turning up to see Cody. Within three weeks of starting the academic year, they had already worked out what rooms Cody had his seminars in and at what time they finished, so they could stand outside and wait for him. Despite Cody never once showing them his timetable.

After lunch, Cody began looking through some books for information he could add to his dissertation, while Obi-Wan turned his laptop on to work on one of his assignments. At the sound of an exasperated sigh, Cody looked up with one raised eyebrow to find Obi-Wan glaring at his laptop screen. “Problem?” he prompted lightly.

His boyfriend rolled his eyes and stated, “I hate this. We have a dissertation and other essays we need to complete that count towards our final degree. But then we are asked to write a two-thousand-word essay on the skills we have learnt doing our English degree and how those skills can help us in the workplace. While also having to give examples of jobs that use and need those skills.” Obi-Wan growled in frustration, “it is so pointless, but we have to do it otherwise we can be penalised if we don’t. But it’s wasting our time, we have other more important things to do.”

Cody grimaced and then reached out to squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand. “I totally get your frustration. We have been asked to do the exact same thing.”

Obi-Wan just groaned and thunked his head on the table, “I hate this. This is stress I do not need.” Cody smiled to himself and with his free hand, he ran his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair, gently scratching at his scalp with his nails.

When Obi-Wan had relaxed, Cody recalled the lecture when he had been told about the assignment and how the career’s department guest lecturer and one of his usual history lecturers asked for people to give examples of skills, they had learnt doing their degree. He must have laughed to himself, because Obi-Wan was turning his head, leaving his face resting against the table top, and gave him an unimpressed glare. “Are you laughing at my pain?”

“No,” soothed Cody, brushing the hair out of Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Just remembering what Bly said in our lecture about the skills we have learnt doing a history degree.”

“Care to share? It might help me out,” asked Obi-Wan.

Cody smirked, “we have learnt to deal with emotionally crippling pain.”

There was a pause, and then Obi-Wan was laughing, his shoulders shaking as he lifted his head up from the table and instead rested it against Cody’s shoulder. “Oh, that’s a good one. I wonder if I could get away with using it?” he mused.

“I have no idea. But like you, I am tempted to use it,” stated Cody, happy to see a bit of life back in Obi-Wan’s eyes. There was nothing more depressing that having to complete a pointless assignment when you had a hundred other things to do that actually mattered for your degree.

They made the collective decision to stop working for the rest of the day, they were both mentally tired and decided they could do with a break. So, they found a film to watch, which led to another film, which led to another, until it was time for them to eat dinner. After they had shared the cooking, eaten and then shared the washing up, they decided to have an early night. Seeing as they both had nine am lectures on campus and arranged to meet in the library afterwards before Cody’s meeting with his dissertation supervisor.

As they stretched out on their bed, Cody pulling Obi-Wan to half lay on top of him, their legs tangled together. Despite the early time of the evening, the warmth and the presence of each other led them both to become drowsy and their eyes flickered heavily.

“Good night Cody,” yawned Obi-Wan, his jaw cracking at the force of the yawn.

“G’night Obi. Love you,” Cody breathed out on a sigh, his eyes closing as he felt himself begin to drift.

“Love you Code,” mumbled Obi-Wan as he pressed his face into the crook of Cody’s neck. With his nose pressed into Obi-Wan’s hair, Cody pressed a kiss against Obi-Wan’s forehead and felt a kiss pressed against his neck in return. With a smile on his face, Cody drifted off into sleep, where university stress faded away until it captured his attention tomorrow, but for now, he was able to sleep peacefully with his boyfriend in his arms.

End note:

I would draw the photo of all the boys in their onesies, but alas I cannot draw so let the image live on in our imaginations. 

Also I really enjoyed writing this AU, so if anyone wants to see more from it (including Rex, Fives, Echo, Wolffe, Fox and Anakin) let me know!

I went to Manchester Metropolitan University and as I loved it there so much, I chose to make it the setting for my AU for codywanweek. The road, buildings, halls and park are real places at the university and writing this fic has just made me want to go back there. I couldn’t come up with a degree for Cody so I just gave him my degree and dissertation focus (so yes there does exist a 10,000-word dissertation on the treatment of shell shock in WWI). At MMU we did call the University of Manchester Uni of, to differentiate between the two universities.

The Black Death lasagne analogy does actually exist in a historical book somewhere. I didn’t actually read it, but one of my flatmates in first year, who also did history, did. He was revising for one of our exams and he excitedly burst into the shared kitchen, saw me and geeked out over the funny analogy, we laughed about it, about how it was such a random analogy to use. (But after a few years I still remember it, so I guess it’s useful.) But then one of our other flatmates, who wasn’t studying history, turned around and complained at us, because she was in the process of making lasagne for her dinner. So, the reactions to Fox’s gleeful explanation of the analogy are based on truth. Our flatmate didn’t want to eat her dinner because of us. As I was writing this fic, the analogy popped back into my head and I felt it would be such a Fox thing to say.

Cody’s line of “we have learnt to deal with emotionally crippling pain” during a career’s lecture. Is something that I heard said in a career’s lecture I had to sit through in my second year. So again, something else in this fic that is based on truth.

[sasa-gay-yo]

Just Us   (Chapter 1: His Eyes)

Sometime before The Fall of Wall Maria

The hum of customers seemed louder that day. Normally four or five regulars were sitting in the corner, drinking coffee and sharing baguettes, but today, it seemed most of the tables were filled. Newspapers were being passed back and forth between people and if I cared much about the news, I might have taken myself away from kneading bread to glance at the pages. Just by hearing the customers, I filled myself in on the town gossip without having to be confronted by the old ladies trying to make me marry their sons. 

“I can’t get married right now, Miss. Schmidt. There’s too much to do with the shop that I have no time to give my attention to anyone else.” Those excuses and a smile seemed to hold them off for a few days. 

“Eva! Can we get a refill of coffee here?” I looked up to the three Garrison soldiers who were hiding away from their morning watch duties. At least they weren’t drinking whiskey. Nodding, I put the dough in the oven to prove and wiped my hands. Now, I would have to talk to some people. If it made them want to come to the café more, I guess I would sacrifice a little of my sanity. 

“Here you go,” I held up my hand as they tried to slide a few more coins my way, “You already have had three, this one is on the house.” The Captain looked up and smiled at me before putting them back in his pocket. The, too, had a newspaper laid out in the center of the table. 

“Have you heard about the Survey Corps recently, Eva?” I shook my head and he held up the paper. 

“Apparently they’ve gained some recruits worth our tax dollars! They didn’t lose half of their people on the last expedition. It’s front-page news for some reason.” One of the subordinates pointed at the portrait on the front page of what I assumed to be the new commander of the Scouts. Last week's news was the retirement of Keith Shadis and the promotion of various Corps peoples. Perhaps with the promotion also came the recent success. 

“I think anyone who goes out to fight titans on our behalf is worth my tax dollars. If I recall, soldiers only pay a fraction of our taxes. In fact, I’m paying for you to sit here in my café and drink away my coffee supply. It’s hard on me to travel to the capital markets every month.” I raised an eyebrow at them and it seems the pleasant conversation they wanted to have had ended, especially with the other customers listening in. They made it a point to stand up, leave the coins on the table, and walk out of the café. 

“Finally doing their job.” I picked up the untouched pitcher of coffee and wiped down the table. They didn’t even have the decency to put their cups in the dish bin. I rolled my eyes and cleaned up after them, going back to kneading more bread dough and warming up their coffee for the next customer. 

Maybe the success of the Scouts will make the Garrison and MPs care about the people inside the walls. You can only be self-serving for a little bit before it comes to bite you in the ass.

“Delivery!” Again, I’m distracted from my bread making. This is why I should have prepped last night. I wiped off my hands, noticing how dry they’d become, and turned to get what I assumed to be my portion of flour. 

“Hi Jonas, just put it on the table here.” 

“Eva, did you hear the news?” I poured him a cup of juice and handed it to him, nodding. 

“The Survey Corps?” He nodded hard and drank it all in one big gulp. 

“You should’ve seen it when the scouts came through the city a few days ago. I don’t think I’ve ever seen people cheer for them, but this time they did. Did you watch them come by?” I took his cup and put it in the sink before turning back to him. 

“No, I was stuck in here. I did see the tops of some of their heads though, but the crowd around the window was pretty thick.” I decided to lean against the front counter and take a break from baking to talk to Jonas, one of the only people my age who seemed to come around here and stay. If you were young in Trost, you were always working. They would come in and right out of the café, never staying to talk or look out the windows. I only know a few of their names, but all of their drink orders by heart. The only ones who seemed to talk a bit when they came in were, in fact, Scouts who got a few days off. No conversation ever really amounted to anything and I didn’t take time to memorize their orders as they would always stop coming a few weeks after they first arrived. 

“How is Reeve’s doing on orders? I heard that there might be a shortage of meat soon.” He shrugged at me and I signed his papers. 

“I don’t have a clue about that. I just go where they tell me to. I mean, I haven’t been delivering a lot of meat lately. You don’t need it though, do you?” 

“No, I just need flour, coffee, and sometimes tea. I go to the capital for the last two. If anything, I’d just stop being a bakery.” Jonas pouted and pointed to the croissants in the glass case. 

“I’d fight to get those if there was a shortage. You have the best bread in Trost!” I smiled and waved my hand. 

“No, I don’t, Jonas. I kn-” 

“Tea, please.” Jonas jumped and turned around to see the man behind him. His grey eyes bore holes into Jonas who was in his way. I’d seen him before, but it was his first time into the café. 

“C-Captain Levi!” Jonas even bowed to him, slightly shaking. I tilted my head, looking at the man, no taller than me. Why was this shorty making Jonas shake in his shoes? And Captain? He didn’t seem like the type to be in the Garrison. 

When I was done looking at his form, I looked back up to his eyes which seemed annoyed that he was having to wait for his tea. They were a pretty grey but were almost overshadowed by the dark circles under his eyes. I’d seen those type of eyes...tired from death, not from lack of sleep. He was definitely a Scout.

I stood up and wiped my hands again, slightly wincing at their dryness. 

“What type of tea, Cap’n?” He didn’t seem to be amused at my abbreviation of his title and I lost my customer-friendly smile. Guess I didn’t have to play pretend around his negative attitude. 

“Black.” I raised an eyebrow and looked at his form again. Tired, strained, busted, sad even… He needed something less… anxiety-inducing than straight black tea. He needed something soothing. 

“May I make a suggestion?” He looked up again having already put the money for plain black tea on the counter. I didn’t fail to notice how when he looked up, so did everyone else in the café. Was he radiating some form of intimidating energy to everyone in this place? He didn’t look scary, just tired and stressed. I guess the darkness of his features didn’t help his cause. 

“What?” Every answer was short and low. He did have an impressive voice for being short, but it also sounded like he had a scratchy throat. A mental note to add honey. 

“Mint?” He looked at me for a few seconds, probably deciding whether or not I could ruin his tea routine, “No extra cost. You just seem like you don’t need any more caffeine at the moment. Perhaps a few more hours of sleep.” The last sentence was mumbled, but I’m sure he had to hear it. Hopefully, he heard it and took me up on it. 

“Sure.” He waved his hand and walked over to the corner table where the Garrison was sitting, staring out the window. It seemed that he was far away enough for everyone to start gossiping about him. I stared at him for a few more seconds before taking out one of the few teacups I owned. No one wants to drink tea anymore… such old taste. 

“E-Eva? How did you talk to him like that?!” I glanced over at Jonas who was crouched over the counter and whispering to me. 

“What do you mean? Why is everyone so afraid of him? He’s no taller than me, Jonas.” 

“He’s Captain Levi! Humanity’s strongest soldier. It’s said that he’s killed over 100 titans by himself! And, and, and he just joined the Corps this past year. He used to be a…” He leaned in even more and put a hand in front of his mouth like that was going to help block out this secret, “a famous gangster in the underground.” I looked back at him again and met his eyes. He quickly looked away, but I did notice he was still staring at me from his peripheral. It was the way he was sitting that made it possible to spy on me unsuspectingly. 

“He does look a bit mean, but I don’t see danger...I think he just intimidates you and you don’t like it because he’s shorter than you.” Jonas was exasperated at my comment and looked back and forth between the Captain and me. 

“But he’s from the underground! You know how dangerous those people are! Kenny the Ripper and The Sniper… he’s one of them!” I rolled my eyes again and watched the tea as it brewed. 

“You forget I was born in the underground too, Jonas.” It was a low whisper to keep gossip down to a minimum and he shook his head fast, tapping on the counter. 

“But you’re different, Eva. You didn’t live there for very long either and you were adopted by Mister Flynn. I know he’s murdered like so many people.” I held the honey jar up, debating how much I should put in. He didn’t seem like the type of person who would like something overly sweet, but his throat sounded like it needed a bit more honey. 

“So, if I wasn’t adopted and you met me on the streets, would you be treating me like you’re treating him?” He groaned again and tried to grab my hand to get me to understand his point better. I moved my arm so he fell a bit farther on the counter. 

“I’m happy that someone who knows how to kill is now killing titans. You read the newspapers. What if he’s the reason the Scouts are doing better now?” I put the teacup on the tray along with a small bowl of honey. I couldn’t decide. 

Everyone in the café watched as I walked over to his table and put the tea down. 

“Peppermint tea. I don’t know how you like your tea so there’s some honey. You should put it in.” I pointed to the tiny bowl and he looked down at it too, grunting. I guess that was his way of saying thank you. 

Something made it so I didn’t move from standing in front of him. Maybe I was just curious why everyone was afraid to meet his eye or why they thought he was so intimidating. I mean, Jonas was shitting his pants talking about him and here I stood, not feeling anything like that. I was grateful, if anything, for his service in the Corps and just how many titans he’s rumored to have killed.

“Do you have a question?” It was harsh and it woke me out of the trance while looking at him. I had to recover quickly, or it’d be a bit embarrassing to just admit I was staring at him. He really… wasn’t so bad looking either. Just short. 

“I’m waiting for you to put the honey in your tea.” A good recovery with a hard tone behind it. Hopefully, he didn’t see through it. He groaned again, taking one spoonful and making a grand gesture about putting it into the tea and stirring. I smiled when he followed my fake orders, but it was funny. The titan serial killing maniac gangster had done something that I told him. I nodded once before walking away from his table, noticing, again, everyone's eyes. It was easier to face his grey ones than it was to look at all of theirs. Annoying. 

“Jonas, get off my counter! You’re making it dirty!” 

Orders and people kept flowing in as the hour passed by, but as it reached lunchtime, everything slowed down. No one would want pastries until later in the day for an after-work snack and coffee and tea had lost their use as everyone was now knees deep in work. The only people left in my café were three older women gossiping, two men playing chess, and the Captain himself. 

He was still in the same position, staring out the window, and he slowly sipped his tea as if he was savoring it. I noted that as a victory for my tea-making skills and also noticed that he had used up all the honey I had given him. Interesting. He did like his tea sweet. Maybe he is scary and I’m just not good at judging someone’s character.  

All there was left to do was keep the bread and pastries rotating in and out of the oven and tend to the customers who came every fifteen minutes or so. When I was on downtime, I would debate on whether to go talk to him again or just let him be. Maybe me talking to him would make him more tired and a waste of the peppermint tea I gave him. Just a bag of that tea costs a fortune in the capital, but I was now glad for my decision to buy it. 

Maybe he's sitting there, try to get me to notice him and go talk to him. I can feel it when he looks at me while my back is turned. Is that a call to come over? Has my wit and good looks made him interested in me? Or, my last hypothesis, he can’t read me like I can’t read him. He is a Scout, so maybe he’s surveying me as they do. I was definitely trying to study him behind the pastry glass.

Around one, almost four hours after he stepped foot into my café, he stood up and walked the teacup and plate to the counter next to me. The dish tray wasn’t empty, so he either hadn’t seen it, or my second hypothesis was right and he had finally gotten annoyed that I didn’t approach him. 

“I don’t know where this goes.” His voice was still as stiff as ever, but perhaps it sounded a bit less scratchy. Up close again, I got to study his features. He was handsome, but not your average Trost brown-hair-brown-eyes boy. His eyes told stories the longer you looked at them. Stories of titans and death and the underground. I wish I could stare at them for longer, but he lowered his head again, pushing the cup forward. I got to see his side profile from the other side and it was the same. He was perfect and symmetrical. Sharp jaw and nose hide under strands of raven hair. Everything about him was so… not dark, but I guess the right word would be intimidating or... hard. He just seemed to be hard. Nothing would break his shell, not even small talk, but damn, did I want to try. 

“I can take that for you, Captain.” He nodded and stood there as I put the dish in the sink. He was studying me like I had when I delivered the tea. I decided to use this against him. 

“Did you have a question?” He opened his mouth to say something, probably a quick remark, but it didn’t come out. I turned, smiling, looking at his stance. He still had a blank expression, hiding any emotion, but I knew deep down that my question affected him. 

“How much is that?” He pointed to the baguette in the glass display which conveniently already had the price marked. Humanity’s strongest wasn’t very perceptive if he missed two things. First, the dish tray, now the price tag. Jonas couldn’t have been right about him… it was just a mirage for people inside the walls. For someone to kill that many titans, they had to be some sort of killing machine. They needed him to fit the narrative and his past and facial expression helped him to mold into it seamlessly. The narrative I broke out of as a child. 

“For Humanity’s Strongest? Free. Thank you for fighting the titans, Captain.” Without a word, I put the bread in a paper wrap and handed it to him. I had hoped he would say something back so I could talk to him more, but like every Scout, he just turned to walk out of the doors and probably back to the outside of Trost. 

“How long till you don’t come back, Captain?” 

                                                                                                      Chapter Two →

Chapter Masterlist

[yourillusoryenvy]

Just a dream

This is my first time writing a one-shot and sharing it with people. I’m really excited but also super nervous! I am open to feedback, questions, ideas, anything. Just let me know your thoughts!

Word Count: 1,032 

Note: (f/n) means “friend’s name”, I had no idea how to abbreviate so I just shortened it to (f/n). So in the couple instance you run into the abbreviation here just plug in one of your closest friend’s name.

*3:34AM, (y/n)’s bedroom*

Your eyes jerked opened. You could feel it.. It was here.

It had been weeks since you first started feeling this uneasiness. No matter where you were and what you did, you could not shake off this feeling of being watched. Could it be that you were being followed? But by who? And why? For revenge? Money?

You were an average person. A good student, with a few friends and a somewhat normal family — at least from an outside perspective — , normal hobbies, no crazy exes, no enemies per se, and no known stalker..  On top of that your family wasn’t rich and, for now, you were drowning in student debt. Your part-time job as a cashier only allowing you enough money to pay your bills. So money couldn’t be the reason. And neither you nor your family ever wronged anyone to warrant stalking so… Why would someone follow you? 

This is exactly what your friends had asked as they laughed off your concerns. They were right. You were being silly, maybe even completely paranoid. 

For weeks you had attempted to shrug off the feeling, repeating yourself it was all in your head, until a few days ago. You had started loosing sleep over it. Your own room did not feel safe anymore. It felt like someone was here, with you, in your room. Unable to ease your worries, you had started pulling all-nighters. After four days without sleeping, surviving on various caffeinated drinks, you were barely a shell of yourself. This morning, after seeing your exhausted face and your difficulty focusing in class, your friend, (f/n), had offered to stay at your place for a few nights so you could get some rest. 

And here you were. Laying in bed next to her. You could hear her calm, steady breathing. She was sleeping, unbothered by the presence in the room. You could almost touch her, so close yet so far... You were paralyzed, frozen by fear, your body refusing every one of your desperate plea to move.

As your eyes started adapting to the darkness, you were able to faintly discern a tall humanoid shadow in the far right corner of your room… On second look, there was no mistake: it was a human, a man to be exact. His face was lightly dimmed by the device he was holding in his hand. Your first guess would have been a phone but the shadow of the device showed weird angles that you couldn’t make sense of..

You wanted to scream, to run, to turn on the light, to wake up your friend, to do something… Anything. But you couldn’t. Your body refusing to cooperate, leaving you as a mere spectator of this terrifying scene. 

Your eyes were glued on the figure, as you were trying hard to pick up on any characteristic that would help you identify the man. Unfortunately, all you could make out was that he was relatively tall and lean; maybe even muscular considering the shadow of his arms. His hair must been short to mid-length per the few strands falling on his forehead. His face appeared to have soft features, and he was… smiling? No visible scar, no tattoo, no strong recognizable features. You couldn’t even see his hair or eyes color. 

“Just turn on the light… Just. Turn. On. The. Light”, you repeated mentally as if it would change something. Instead, all you could do was carefully watch for any movement. But the shadow stood perfectly still.. Did he know you were awake? 

When your internal pleas did not help, you slowly started focusing your attention on your right hand. “Just move one finger. He won’t see it”, you bargained internally. After a few agonizing minutes that felt like hours, you were finally able to move your pinky. The ability to control your body slowly spreading in your other fingers, your hand and arm. “Just turn on the light”, you implored yourself one more time.

You took a quiet but deep breath before lunging on the light switch that was on your left. The warm white light immediately filled your room. As you turned your head to get a look at the the far right corner, to see who was here, you saw… 

Nothing.

“(y/n)?” (f/n) grumbled, “What’s going on?…. Turn off the light and go back to sleep!”

“N-n-nothing… I-I’m.. Sure.. I-I’ll leave it o-on for now” you apologized, still trying to process what had just happened. (f/n) sighted and turned around before hiding her head under the blanket, as she fell back asleep.

You heart was racing from the adrenaline pumping in your veins.. You had experienced sleep paralysis before, but this time it felt different. It felt real, even now that you were undoubtedly wide awake. But no human being could have left the room in such a short amount of time. You must have only taken your eyes off of the shadow for a second, two maximum. No-one could have made a run for it, completely quietly, in that time frame. Was it just a very bad nightmare? Maybe it felt so real because you were so sleep-deprived? Or maybe were you making it up? Had you gone crazy? 

You slowly laid back down still questioning your sanity. While you did not want to let your guard down anymore, the comforting light, the presence of your friend next to you, and the lack of rest in the past 4 days, were enough to convince you to attempt to fall back in a much-needed sleep.  After all, it wasn’t real, it was just a bad dream… 

…Or was it?

.

.

.

.

*3:47AM, a few streets from your appartement*

“That was close call” Feitan noted while walking, hands in his pocket, next to his fellow troupe member. Shalnark only answered with a laugh, his attention focus on typing something on his bat-shaped phone. The young blonde had clearly enjoyed the thrill of almost getting caught.

“Why wait? Why not take her now? We thieves, we take what we want, when we want” Feitan continued.

Still smiling, Shalnark looked up from his phone, a smile plastered on his face. “Toys are meant to be played with”.

[spectrumed]

5. sleep

It hardly gets dark in the Swedish summers. Between dusk to dawn, you’ve got about an hour to fall asleep before the sun rises again. If you struggle to fall asleep that fast, you can invest in some good window blinds. Or you can do as I do and place one big pillow over your face. Then the birds start singing around three o’clock in the morning. You can practically hear the sounds of Edvard Grieg’s Morning Mood playing at around four o’clock in the morning. Around five o’clock in the morning, it is as bright as midday. Did you have a good time sleeping? Or did you pace around in a circle having one hell of a panic attack? I thought you took some of those sleeping pills you got prescribed, they should have helped you fall asleep… wait, you did take them? They didn’t work? Oh, they did work, you just felt your body falling asleep while your mind stayed awake? That sounds terrible, real terrible. Very well. It’s morning now. Want some coffee?

You could form a religion out of sleeping. Let’s have sermons where we fill a whole auditorium full of beds and have our congregates take a big collective nap. Sleep for the sleep god! Pillows for the pillow throne! Sleep is a billion-dollar industry, there’s a plethora of handy products you can buy that promise to send you on a luxury liner to dreamland. Pills, mattresses, dreamcatchers, whatever your snoozy heart desires. You can go to a proper doctor and they might help you, or you can settle for the placebo effect and go to some fraudulent quack, instead. He might make you swallow some pills that contain arsenic, but hey, arsenic is a naturally occurring element. It can’t be all that bad for you if it is natural. And you do want to sleep, don’t you? If you take this pill in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water, I promise you, you will sleep for a very long time.

The esteemed former president of the United States of America, Donald Trump, claims that he only needs four to five hours of sleep every night. While Mr. Trump is well-known to be a paragon of honesty, I do doubt he’s telling the truth. No, I actually do believe him when says that he only gets about four or five hours of sleep each night, I just don’t believe him when he says that is all he needs. He doesn’t look very well-rested, does he? And Margaret Thatcher, the similarly adored former prime minister of the United Kingdom, claimed that she also only needed about four hours of sleep every night. Yes, while researching the sleeping habits of famous monsters, I’ve come to the conclusion that amongst powerful individuals, not getting enough sleep has become a proper badge of honour. The belief is that if you don’t get enough sleep, that must be because you are living such a vibrantly successful life, and are so career-driven, that you simply haven’t got enough time to sleep for the full eight hours. People who sleep for more than four hours are lazy liberals. Go-getters like Trump has got to be out there, working, making decisions, raping women, and showing daddy what a good boy he is. Sleep is for the weak. But maybe I am weak. I sure like sleeping.

It’s the cultural hangover our society has had since the 80’s. Back when the yuppies wearing jackets with obscenely padded shoulders would happily chuck down eight to ten espressos in one go while A Flock of Seagulls was playing on the radio encouraging everyone to go running. And to be fair to them, with the constant fear of the doomsday clock hitting midnight, they really had no reason to think that they’d survive the decade. The new millennia, it seemed, would have no cities, no nature, no humans, only radiated mutants scouring the rubble that remains of civilization for cans of preserved something edible. Self-destructive behaviour was in. It was fashionable. Doubt people got enough sleep back then, between snorting coke and wondering if the next pandemic that hits the night clubs would start killing as many straight folks as gay folks. Well, here we are in the new 20’s, and we’ve got a pandemic that does appear to kill people regardless of sexual orientation. Sure, the looming threat of nuclear obliteration has been lessened dramatically, but we’ve largely come to exchange that anxiety for the fear of total environmental collapse, instead. No wonder 80’s nostalgia is a big thing right now. History doesn't repeat itself, but It often rhymes, said Mark Twain (supposedly.) I wonder how much coke Mark Twain would snort if he lived in the 80’s.

I notice a palpable difference in my mood and mental state when I’ve been getting good amounts of sleep. Lack of sleep results in lack of clear thinking. Caffeine, though it is something I am chronically addicted to, does not help fix a sleep-deprived mind. There are no tricks of revolutionary “life hacks” one can employ to get out of sleeping. To recover from depression, one has to sleep. Sleep often and sleep well. I cannot understate the importance of being well-rested. You cannot process information if you are tired. I am reminded of my teenage years seeing friends of mine who’d stay up all night, then come into school shuffling like agonised zombies. They got so frustrated when the teachers reprimanded them for snoozing in class. Well, dummies, it is your fault for drinking several dozen cans of Red Bull every day! I know that sleep does not always come easy. I know the terror of insomnia. But, c’mon! At some point, you’ve got to realise that sleep is essential. Maybe most of your problems stem from the fact that you refuse to get enough of it? Here’s where the tough love comes in. If you wanna get better, kiddo, then listen to me. It’s bedtime. Yes, I know you’d rather stay up late playing monopoly with your friends, but I’m confiscating your dice and I’ll only give it back to you when you’ve gotten some good sleep. Okay? You hear me, missy? You listen to your daddy now, and go to bed. No ifs or buts about it, princess, I’ve made myself clear. I know what is best for you, and you know that I am right. I’m your daddy.

But what if I can’t seem to fall asleep? Normally, it takes a long time for me to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for me to stay awake for two hours, maybe more, before I finally begin to sleep. Fearing that I won’t fall asleep gives me anxiety. That anxiety keeps me awake. I turn my body. I try lying on my side. First my left side, then my right side. I then try to lie on my back. I’ve got a song stuck playing in my head. Not even the whole song, just a ten-second segment of it. It’s playing over and over. I’m worried about the future, will I ever find security, will I ever find a wife, will I get to grow old? I worry about death. I keep hearing the music playing, it’s grating. I rearrange the pillows, in hopes that will make me feel more comfortable. But no, I keep tossing and turning like a fish caught on land. I’m getting frustrated. If only I could shut off my brain. I’m constantly thinking. I turn to my side again, but now I notice I’ve moved arounds so much that now the bed has shifted away from its position next to the wall. There’s now a gap between the bed and the wall. I almost fall down that gap. I get up and I push the bed back against the wall. I lay down in bed. The song is still playing.

How am I ever going to become a successful businessman if I am wasting so many hours just trying to get to sleep? This is the time I should be spending on the phone, yelling at people and making inappropriate sexual comments to my female employees. That is what good executives do. I need to get my life in order. I need to exercise more. I should practice mindfulness. I should get a life coach, a personal trainer, a stylist, an accountant, an assistant, a trophy wife, and a mistress. I need people in my life to take care of me. It’s funny how rich people create the sort of environment around them where people will take care of all their needs, effectively infantilising them. These people don’t even get to decide how to dress themselves. They’ve got fancy apartments, but they don’t choose any of the furniture. They’ve got art on the walls that they don’t like, but the art looks expensive, and that is all that matters. They’ve got kids, but they don’t raise them. Their spouses are cheating on them, but in fairness, they are cheating on their spouses. They don’t really even know what their jobs entails, as they’ve gotten promoted so many times that they’ve ended up in a position that is totally outside their realm of expertise. But they’re so powerful that no-one is able to fire them over their pretty blatant incompetence. They’re successful. They’ve made it. But they still can’t sleep at night. They only manage to successfully fall asleep at night after swallowing a fistful of pills along with a swig of vodka.

It must be easy being a self-help guru. Well, what I mean to say is that all you really need is charisma, which is something you need to be born with. But you don’t need to do any actual studying, any real research, or any kind of soul-searching or deliberation. All you need is to state what is obvious. You go on stage in front of an anxious audience, mostly composed of middle-class salesmen and miscellaneous white collar ghosts. You smile, show off your eerily bright teeth, and they clap. You tell them to go take care of themselves, to eat more healthily, to take walks, or go swimming, and love their partners. You tell them to drink less, or maybe, if they feel like it, they could drink more. I am sure you could spin alcohol as a positive or a negative, depending on what crowd you’re talking to. Tell them to appreciate family. Tell them to appreciate others. Live, laugh, but most of all, love. Tell them to go clean their rooms. Tell them to remember that if they’re on an airplane that is about to crash land, they need to put their own oxygen mask on before they can help others put theirs on. If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Now, go to bed!

You know all this stuff. Me telling you that you should sleep more doesn’t really help you. You know that you should sleep more. It’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that. And it’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that it is better to drink in moderation, and that you should smoke less weed. There are many small little things you can do to improve your life, to stop being a terminally unemployed slacker. It’s like your grandpa who tells you stories about life after the war when you could walk into the biggest building in town, slam your fist against the table and demand to be given a job and a house and a wife and a couple of kids, and that was all you needed to do. He can’t comprehend the fact that society doesn’t work like that, any more. Most people my generation have given up hope of ever owning a home, at least if they happen to live in the vicinity of a larger city. It seems that, no matter where you live, the cost of homes has risen to an impenetrable degree. It seems just as likely that you will be able to afford your very own genetically-engineered pet dragon before you will get to be a house-owner. It’s the fault of those damn boomers, why bother changing your ways, when the boomers are still in charge? Others may accuse you of wallowing in your own depression, but you are perfectly aware that this is exactly what you are doing. You are self-aware. But self-awareness on its own is not enough to motivate anyone. You still can’t see the point in doing anything constructive with your life. Life just feels so aimless. It’s easier to sit, smoke weed, and watch cartoons.

Pop psychology is problematic. To say the least. Take all those self-help gurus suffering from their messiah complexes and put them through the shredder. Don’t buy books thinking that they’ll offer you the kind of treatment you would get from an actual psychiatrist. I know that, depending on where you are in the world, treatment can get very expensive, but you’re not going to get better reading the book of some self-aggrandising narcissist’s collection of wishy-washy platitudes. Dr. Phil has done great evil pretending to be a therapist on the TV, and Jordan Peterson (despite having once been an esteemed scholar) has turned a generation of young internet-savvy zoomers into proto-fascists obsessed with the monogamy of lobsters. Pop psychology has become a guise for cult leaders to reap new followers. Getting treatment should not feel like joining a new religious movement. Maybe I’m just one of those annoying atheists, but I dare say, psychiatry works at its best when it's secular. You should not look at your psychiatrist as a prophet speaking to God. They’re just a doctor, and you need treatment.

I do not aspire to create a self-help blog. I do not promise that reading this blog will help you in any way. I would be overjoyed if someone came up to me and told me that I had inspired them to seek help. You may tell me that reading my words have made you feel less alone, knowing that others have gone through all these things that you are going through. When I felt at my worst, I remember reading the memoirs of people I admired who had similarly struggled in their lives, and I felt less alone. But none of those books pretended to exist principally to help others. Those books did help me, through the candid descriptions of struggles that I thought I was alone in experiencing. Knowing that some people had pulled through, managed to find a light at the end of the tunnel, it made me think I could one day be like them. The books didn’t seek to fix me, but they offered me a perspective that came to be very valuable later on, when I started going to therapy, and when I later started taking medication. Sometimes that is all you need. Not someone standing over you and telling you to go to bed, or to clean your room, or to stop drinking. You know all that, already. What you really need is the reassurance that things can indeed get better. Sleep will come.

[rjhpandapaws]

A Cup of Something Better

Ch 10: Down to the Wire

This was it, the week that had been two years in the making, his last finals week as a gen ed student. Assuming he passed all his tests, he would be able to take the nurses exam the following Friday. If he passed that he be enrolled into the nursing program for the fall semester. Five tests over three days, not the worst test load that he'd dealt with. The fact that they were between five and eleven at night was a pain in the ass.

He'd asked for the week off from the cafe so he could have more time to study. Some of the time he spent studying was also spent at the cafe, he preferred the idle chatter over the silence of his apartment.

Connor was spending the morning at the cafe again, going over calculus today. He had an Iced Americano that was helping to keep him concentrated. He'd had a few late nights that he was beginning to feel the effects of. His first set of tests was tonight, calculus and art history. Tomorrow was biology and mythology. The day after being his sociology final. Hank thankfully didn't have a final for his class so Connor had a chance to recuperate before his nurses exam.

He finished the problem he was working on and sat back rubbing at his face to try and wake up more. He needed to focus. He took another drink of his coffee and looked around the cafe, it was almost empty. As one would expect at ten in the morning on a Monday. He finished his coffee and figured he could use the break to order another drink. Hopefully he'd be more awake afterward.

He headed for the counter and ordered his usual before heading back to the table. Refueled and somewhat ready to go again, he sat back down and got back to work.

Connor woke up sometime later to North knocking on the table. He looked up to find that it wasn’t North, but Hank, though the red haired she-devil was behind the counter laughing.

“So, uh, North asked me to bring you this.” Hank said after a moment, setting the bigger of the two cups on the table, “she also said that knocking on the table would wake you up.”

“Thanks.” Connor took the cup and yawned, “you can sit down if you want. I’m just studying.”

Hank chuckled as he took a seat, “planning on learning through osmosis? I was lead to believe you had to be awake in order to study properly.”

Connor rolled his eyes as he took a drink from what turned out to be a large cup filled with just espresso shots, “I’ll do whatever works at this point.” He covered a yawn and leaned forward, “how do you like having the week off? Getting any writing done?”

Hank laughed as Connor got back to work on his calculus, “I’ve gotten a couple of chapters into my manuscript and started a couple of short stories.”

Connor took another drink from his cup, “you’re planning to release another collection then?” He yawned, “how is Sumo doing?”

When Connor looked up Hank was looking at him with a concerned expression. HIs brow was furrowed and his sky blue eyes were clouded over with worry. Connor knew that he looked rough but he was pretty sure he wasn’t bad enough to warrant that level of concern.

“Sumo is doing fine.” Hank leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, “can you answer something for me Connor?”

“Hmm?” Connor sat up from where he had been slouching into his textbook again, “what’s up?”

“How many days has it been since you’ve gotten a full night’s rest?” Hank watched as he took another drink of his ‘coffee’.

“Today is Monday so...” He counted back on his fingers, muttering the days of the week under his breath, “Saturday, I think. Why?”

Hank sighed, and the sound was pure disappointment, something that if it hadn’t been directed at Connor would have impressed him, “Since you’re the one of us going into nursing, I feel like I shouldn’t have to tell you what’s wrong with that Connor. Do me a favor and get some rest. You can’t keep going like this.”

“I sleep two hours before classes. I’ve increased my calorie intake and added more caffeine into the mix as well.” He stumbled over his words as he yawned again, “five hour energy and espresso have been life savers for me.”

“Connor.” Hank groaned, “I was in college too, so I can’t argue with you, but try and get at least get four hours today alright?” He put a hand up when Connor opened his mouth to argue, “I know your nurses exam is important to you Con, but what happens if you burn out before then? You’ll have to wait a whole semester to take it again.”

In theory Connor knew him to be correct, but he had so many tests and he wanted to make sure that he was ready, “I just don’t want to fail Hank, if I can’t pass these then I won’t even be taking the nurses exam.”

Connor could feel tears pooling behind his eyes from the lack of sleep as well as the stress. The nickname made Connor give a watery smile as he rubbed at his face trying to collect himself.

“Hey now, don’t cry.” Hank reached out and squeezed his wrist reassuringly, “I’ve gotten to see you at work Con, you’ve got these tests in the bag. Go home, get some rest.”

Connor let out a wet laugh and wiped his eyes with his free hand. After another reassuring squeeze Hank let go of his wrist and Connor began packing up his things and putting them back in his bag not quite managing to bite back another yawn. He was starting to think no amount of coffee was gonna help this. With everything packed he sat back and rubbed at his face again hoping to wake up a little more.

“Alright.” Connor said before he drank more of his coffee, “time to go home and nap I guess. Sorry you had to wake me.”

Hank chuckled, “Its no problem. Do you need a ride? The weather looks like its going to take a turn for the worse.”

Connor looked out the windows and despite it being early afternoon apparently, the sky was almost black and the wind was howling through the streets, “thanks, but I’ll just get a cab.”

Hank nodded and stood. They walked out together and parted ways at the parking lot with a wave. Connor hailed a cab and checked his phone which had been vibrating consistently since Hank had stood up. There were several new messages in the coffee shop group chat, probably because he had been crying.

The Coffee Crew:

Northern_Lights: Aww, you two are so cute together

Northern_Lights: Why are you crying?

Northern_Lights: Is it his fault? I’ll kick his ass if I have to

Northern_Lights: Holding hands?

Northern_Lights: You’re good then?

Northern_Lights: Connor?

RunawayArkait: North, everything is fine.

SimonSays: Are you sure? We saw you cry

RunawayArkait: I haven’t been sleeping and the stress from finals got to me

RunawayArkait: Hank kind of gave me a pep talk is all

SimonSays: Aww his name is Hank, that’s fitting

Northern_Lights: That had better been all. Or I will fight him.

RunawayArkait: It’s fine North. I’m gonna get some sleep then get to class

Northern_Lights: Sleep well

SimonSays: You got this!

Connor smiled at his phone as he paid and got out of the cab. He walked up to his apartment and set an alarm for a half hour before he needed to leave. He set his backpack by the door and went to change into pyjamas. Connor was still fighting off the embarrassment from having cried in front of Hank, if he needed to sleep anything off it was that. Hank probably found him to be weak and pathetic for having cried ever a few tests. Whatever chance, if he’d even had one, was gone.

He sighed and rubbed at his face again and climbed into bed, double checking that his alarm was on and also at full volume. He plugged his phone in and rolled over falling asleep almost instantly. When his alarm went off he hadn’t moved. The song blared to life yanking Connor violently back into consciousness. He groaned, sat up, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes He turned off the alarm and checked his phone. He had quite a few messages.

The Family Feud:

Sixty-Second-Set: You’ve got this Connor!

UnluckyNine: You’ll be a nurse in no time

RunawayArkait: Thank you

The Coffee Crew:

Northern_Lights: Good luck college boy!

SimonSays: Don’t worry alright? You’re a genius

What.Josh.Does: See you in calculus. Who ever scores the lowest buys drinks on Friday

RunawayArkait: Thanks guys. You’re on Josh.

Made-By_Markus messaged you!

Made-By_Markus: Good luck Connor!

RunawayArkait: Thank you Markus.

Connor dressed in his day clothes again and made a pot of coffee. Travel mug filled, he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. He pulled up his hood as he got to the parking lot since the storm picked up since his nap. He walked toward the road and caught a cab to head to the university. On the ride over he pulled out the notes he had taken for his calculus class and got in some last minute studying.

He arrived early and made his way to the Math and Science building. Josh was waiting at one of the hallway tables and waved Connor over. There were two paper Hand Brewed Hope cups on the table, when Connor took his seat Josh slid one over to him.

“Figured you could use the pick me up.” Connor took a drink of what turned out to be Chai Tea with cinnamon and nutmeg as Josh spoke, “I know finals week is rough on you.”

Connor gave a dry chuckle, “It’s just stressful, and even more than usual this time because of the nurses exam.” He sighed softly, “You had tow tests earlier today. How do you think you did?”

He was distracting himself, but thankfully Josh let him, “Good. I was more confident for my philosophy exam than I was for chemistry, but it is what it is. Once I finish this up I’ll get to move on to student teaching. Which I’m looking forward to.”

Connor smiled, Josh was excited to becoming a teacher. He was going to be missed at the cafe but he would have more fun as a teacher, “You’ll be great at it. Those kids are going to adore you.”

Josh beamed at him and Connor took another drink from his tea, “I’m gonna miss the cafe though.”

“We’re gonna miss you too.” Connor said kindly, “I’m sorry that I can’t join you guys this weekend but I’m going to be getting ready for my nurses exam.”

“It’s alright Connor. We know how much this means to you, so no one is holding it against you.” Josh responded with a gentle smile.

When it came time to, they grabbed their things and headed for class. Josh gave Connor’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he headed for his seat at the back of the class.  Connor headed for his as well, letting out a shaky sigh. He had an ‘A’ in this class, he could handle one last test. Probably.

The two hour test block seemed to crawl by. He fell into routine, solving the problems as he went and then checking them over when he had finished. Then, just to be sure, he checked them again. With a half hour left in the test block he grabbed his things, turned in his completed exam, and made his way to building one to study for his art history final. Having found a bench to sit at and go over his notes, he sent a few messages.

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Calculus is done, just Art History left

RunawayArkait: Just finished calculus

UnluckyNine: Good job! You’ve got this one in the bag too

Sixty-Second-Set: Look at you go!

SimonSays: Bet you nailed it

Northern_Lights: Nicely done, you beat Josh

_

RunawayArkait: Calculus is done

Made-By_Markus: Congratulations Connor!

Connor was smiling as he put his phone away as he put his phone away and began to study, wanting to be as prepared as possible for the final. He packed up when the door to the lecture hall opened. When the class had emptied he took his seat and got ready for his exam.

This two hour block went by a little. Though that was probably because he had the confidence of having finished one already. When he finished this one he could go home and sleep for a couple hours before he got back to studying. This final took him a little longer but he finished it with ten minutes to spare. If he napped in the cab he could spend even more time studying. He probably wouldn’t though, he hated sleeping in cars. He sent messages as he headed out.

The Family Feud: 

RunawayArkait: Done for the night

UnluckyNine: Nice. Now you can get some rest

The Coffee Crew:

Sixty-Second-Set: You’ll be a nurse in no time

_

RunawayArkait: First day of finals is over

What.Josh.Does: Congrats! Meet me at building 27 and I’ll give you a ride home

SimonSays: Three more to go, you’ve got this

Northern_Lights: You’re doing great

@Made-By_Markus

RunawayArkait: Thanks. I’ll be there soon Josh

_

RunawayArkait: One night down, two to go

Made-By_Markus: Don’t forget to get some rest.

Tuesday morning found him back at the cafe, is biology textbook as well as the semester’s notes spread over the table. He’d been at this since about midnight; rotating between biology, mythology, sociology, and subjects that would be covered on the nurses exam. His travel mug still had some coffee in it so he hadn’t bought a drink yet and he also had a couple of five hour energy shots in his bag if needed them. He figured he would, because despite the extra sleep he had gotten yesterday, Connor could still feel exhaustion hanging off of him.

After a couple hours he switched from biology to mythology when his concentration started to wane. When that didn’t work he grabbed a five hour energy bottle and got in line to order. He tossed the bottle between his hands without looking at it, occasionally tossing it straight up only to catch it and start the cycle over again. He had put it back in his university sweatshirt pocket by the time it was his turn to order. He was ordering a drink that North had made up that wasn’t on the menu, so he said it out loud.

“I’ll take a large Due North, Simon.” Connor said around a yawn and Simon looked at him with concern.

“You do know that drink is basically just straight espresso with a couple pumps of chocolate syrup right?” Simon was typing the drink in anyway, “with how much coffee you drink in a day, I’m worried you might vibrate out of existence.” 

“I’ll be fine Simon,” Connor said as he paid for his drink, “I just need a little extra help staying awake today is all.”

“If you’re sure Connor,” Simon said as he handed the cup off to Josh who looked at it with worry.

While he stood in the crowd to wait out his drink he got out his lucky quarter and began to toss it between his hands. He would stop and roll it over is knuckles, toss it straight up, catch it and then start over. On the third pass his drink was called, he pocketed the coin as he walked up to the counter. He thanked Josh and took his drink. When he got back to the table he took the lid off of the cup and added the energy shot, stirring it with the straw so it would mix in. He put the lid on and took a drink when he finished. If the sheer amount of caffeine didn’t keep him awake, the taste probably would.

Connor was surprised that he actually finished the monstrosity that North had created. He’d moved on from mythology to sociology, and despite all of the caffeine pumping through his body, he could still feel himself fading. He knew he couldn’t go up for another coffee so soon after pumping so much espresso into himself, Simon wouldn’t let him. So he would just have to tough it out. He leaned more into his notes, resting his arms on the table.

He woke up to talking, “North, why are you drawing on him?”

“Because, he fell asleep and he knows the rules.” Came North’s reply, and now that Connor was slightly more coherent, he could feel something moving against his face. He opened his eyes with a tired groan and whatever had been on his face was yanked away. North laughed, “Shit.”

“Morning Sunshine.” Hank said with an amused smile as Connor sat up, “how is your studying going? I can see you’re trying that learning by osmosis thing again.”

He gave Hank a tired smile as North laughed, “it seemed to work well enough yesterday.”

“Alright Point Dexter, go wash the dicks off your face. I’ll have another Due North for you when you get back out.” North said as she pulled Connor to his feet.

As Connor made his way to the bathroom to clean his face North retreated back behind the counter. He checked the mirror to find that, yes, North had actually drawn cartoon dicks of various sizes along the left side of his face and a detailed shooting star down the side of his neck, He wet a paper towel and started rubbing at his face, glad that they didn’t use permanent marker to write on the cups.

With all the marker washed off his face and neck Connor went back to the table to find Hank had settled in and gotten to work on his laptop. As promised there was another large Due North beside his sociology notes. He sat down and gave Hank a tired half smile.

“So why was North drawing on your face?” Hank asked as he looked up from his typing, “she said something about rules.”

“Yeah.” Connor laughed rubbing at the back of his neck, “the first time you fall asleep in public is a freebie, after that whoever catches you gets to draw on your face. Either she caught me, or Simon chickened out again.”

“So you fall asleep while out and about pretty often then?” Was Hank’s follow up as he watched Connor get out his biology textbook.

“Sometimes,” he said with a casual shrug, “usually during midterms or finals week when I spend most of my time studying.”

“Your nap yesterday was your freebie then?” Hank’s attention was returning to his work, as was Connor’s.

“Probably, or your timing saved me.” With that the conversation fell away to be replaced with the clicking of a keyboard and the occasional turning pf a page.

It was a few hours later when Hank stood, “I’m gonna go get another drink. Do you want anything?”

Connor looked up from his notes, “A Chai Tea please. Thank you Hank.”

“No problem kid.” He said as he headed for the counter.

Connor put his biology book away and got out what he needed for mythology. He had about two hours until he needed to leave for the university. Time to concentrate on his test subjects. He sat back and stretched, his back popped like a line of fire crackers since this was the first time he had moved in a few hours.

By the time Hank got back with the drinks, Connor was once again absorbed in his work and jumped when a paper cup came into his line of sight. Hank laughed as he sat down.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got tunnel vision Con?” He remarked with a laugh, “I called your name three times before I gave up.”

There was that nickname again and the bubbling warmth that came with it. Connor was fighting not to grin like an idiot when he spoke, “A few times. Sorry though, I wasn’t trying to ignore you.”

Hank chuckled as he got back to work, “I get the same way when I work sometimes too. Don’t worry.”

“After tonight I’ll at least be getting my sleep schedule back,” Connor said as a way of making conversation, “I just have sociology tomorrow and then I can pace myself for the nurses exam.”

“North won’t be able to draw on your face anymore,” Hank laughed, “but honestly, I’m glad you’ll be catching up on your rest.”

“I’m honestly just looking forward to getting back to my normal work schedule.” Hank gaped at him.

“Connor, do you ever take time off?” He asked, worry lining his voice.

“Yeah. When I’m sick, for finals week, and whenever Silas has a performance that’s within travelling distance. Why?” Connor asked with a tilt of his head.

Hank shook his head, “Let me rephrase that. Do you ever take time off for yourself Connor?”

“Well no. But I don’t need to, I’m happy.”

Hank sighed and leaned forward resting his forearms on the table on either side of his laptop, “Connor are you working this weekend?”

“No. I have-”

“Great. You’re gonna meet me here at noon on Saturday. I’m going to bring you to my place and you’re gonna meet Sumo. One day, that’s all I’m asking.” Hank’s tone made it clear that he wasn’t going to be taking no as an answer.

“Alright.” Connor wouldn’t have turned down the offer anyway, not when it came to spending time to Hank.

With that taken care of, they both got back to work. Connor nearly jumped out of his skin when the alarm on his phone went off. From the looks of it, the sound had startled Hank  as well. Connor turned it off quickly and began packing his things.

“Well, that’s my cue,” he said with an awkward laugh, “I’m gonna grab a drink for the road, Want me to get you anything?”

When he looked up, Hank was also getting his things together, “how about you get the drinks Saturday. I’ll join you in line though.”

Connor waited for Hank to finish getting his things together and then they joined the line. Now that he was standing, Connor stretched slightly to alleviate some of the stiffness in his back and let out a satisfied sigh when he finished.

“Do you have plans for the night Hank?” He asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Go home, order take out and pend time with my dog.” He replied, “What about you?”

“Take my finals. Then when I get home check to see if I passed the ones I took yesterday and either order victory or pity pizza.” He responded which got a laugh out of Hank.

“How about this. Since I’m so certain it will be victory pizza, I’ll pay for it.”

“But you don’t have my number,” Connor said turning to face Hank.

“You’ll have to give it to me then, won’t you.” He said with a wink and Connor died. Or maybe he was already dead. Adding that energy shot to the Due North probably killed him and this was just a hallucination.

Hank tapped Connor’s shoulder to get his attention and he took the offered phone. He put his number in and set his contact as Connor :). He handed the phone back and by the time he got to the counter he felt his phone vibrate with a message, he could guess who it was from. Josh gave him a suspicious smile.

“Don’t even start.” Connor muttered, cutting him off, “a medium black coffee please.”

Josh put one hand up in mock surrender and used the other to put in the drink order. Connor paid and headed for the end counter, fighting a smile the whole way.

He checked his phone for new messages, and sure enough there were two from a new number.

3132480705: Hello

3132480705: This is Hank :)

Connor: Hello Hank :)

He added the other to his contact list under Hank <3, because he had a crush and couldn’t help himself. He put his phone back in his sweatshirt pocket as Hank joined the group at the end counter.

“So what tests are you taking tonight,” Hank asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a relaxed manner.

“Biology and then mythology. Tomorrow is sociology.” Connor pulled his phone out to double check his calendar, then put it away again, “then assuming I’ve passed those I’m scheduled to take my nurses exam next Friday.”

“It’s good that you gave yourself a week to study,” he said as Connor went up for his drink, when he came back Connor was wearing a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, didn’t plan it like this. The first testing block was full when I applied.” He waved at Hank as he stepped away, “anyway I’ve got to go. I can, um, text you updates if you want.”

“Sure. Good luck Con.” Hank said as Connor left the cafe.

As soon as he got a cab he texted the group chat which had been suspiciously quiet the whole time he had been with Hank.

The Coffee Crew: 

RunawayArkait: Hank gave me his number!

RunawayArkait: Also! I am meeting Sumo this weekend.

RunawayArkait: So, progress. I think?

What.Josh.Does: You have his number and you’re meeting his dog. Yet you’re still questioning if you made progress

Northern_Lights: Go get your man!

SimonSays: Be safe please

RunawayArkait: I mean, Saturday is more of a hostage situation

RunawayArkait: I don’t take enough time for myself apparently

Northern_Lights: Oh. So you’ll listen to him on that!

Northern_Lights: What does that make us?

RunawayArkait: Friends who I love dearly

What.Josh.Does: Well either way, congrats

SimonSays: Don’t forget to tell your brothers

RunawayArkait: Thanks

-

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Guess what?

Sixty-Second-Set: Your finals were cancelled!

UnluckyNine: You passed your exams?

RunawayArkait: Close, but no

RunawayArkait: Hank gave me his number

UnluckyNine: Nice

Sixty-Second-Set: It’s about fucking time

Sixty-Second-Set: If I had to hear you shine about him one more time I was going to pose as you and get it myself

RunawayArkait: Silas!

UnluckyNine: Just be glad it didn’t come to that

Connor rolled his eyes as the cab pulled up to the university. It shouldn’t surprise him that Silas would threaten him with something that extreme, in Silas’s opinion the more dramatic the even the better. Connor was glad it hadn’t needed to come to that, he knew Silas had meant it. He paid for the cab and made his way to building 27 for the last time this week.

He made his way to the second floor and took a seat at one of the hall tables. He took out his biology notes to go over them again before it was time for the test. He had half an hour, he wouldn’t get through everything but it was better than nothing. Science was a bit like math in that following a predetermined procedure would lead to one of a few results.

The half hour passed quickly since he was preoccupied, when students began leaving the lecture hall he began packing up his things. Just like his two previous finals, he didn’t feel like he was ready. He knew his grades by themselves were good enough to get him into the program, but the tests also came with a passing margin and he didn’t want to rely on his grades alone.

HIs  father had raised him and his brothers under the belief that it wouldn’t matter how hard they worked toward their goals since there would always be someone out there that could do it better. He had meant for it to encourage them to go to school and help with the business, but Connor had taken it to mean that he needed to be the one working the hardest to get where he wanted in life. Silas had done similarly albeit in a very different way, and Richard had worked to make himself as close to invisible as possible.

He was waiting outside the classroom for the last of the students to leave when his phone vibrated and pulled him from his thoughts. He pulled it out of his hoodie to put it on silent and saw a message from Hank. He had time, so he opened it.

Hank <3: You’ve got this kid

Connor: Thanks :)

Connor smiled and put his phone away. The room was finally empty and the professor allowed them to come in. He took his usual seat and took a moment to mentally prepare. He got drawn into the test into the test and what he needed of the two hour block flew by. He finished with fifteen minutes left after having gone over his answer just to be sure. He texted Hank first as he left the classroom.

Connor: One more then I’m done for the night

Hank <3: You’ll do great, don’t worry

Connor: :)

He waited until he was in building 1 to message everyone else. He sat in the second floor study area and took a break from his notes.

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Just mythology left

UnluckyNine: That should be easy

Sixty-Second-Set: Hopefully there aren’t any essay questions.

-

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: Last test for the night is mythology

SimonSays: You’ll be able to get some decent sleep tonight

What.Josh.Does: Good Luck

Northern_Lights: God I hated that class

He spent the hour before his mythology final studying for it. Working his way through all of the lecture and reading notes he had taken during the semester. This particular professor didn’t believe in midterms so the final covered everything they had gone over during the semester. It annoyed Connor slightly, he would rather take two smaller tests than one massive one. They had been told that there would be at least ten questions from each era of mythology they had covered. it was a daunting undertaking and Connor didn’t think he was ready for it. Not that it mattered much, considering as he didn’t have a choice, but the sheer size of the test made his looming anxiety seem heavier. If he didn’t finish in time he would fail automatically and could kiss his shot at the nurses exam goodbye.

Connor did his best to shake those thoughts from his head as he go this things together. Maybe if he got there as the first exam was finishing he could get an early start. He grabbed his bag and made his way to the classroom waiting across the hall for the other exam to let out. He got his quarter out again to calm his nerves. He went through the same motions as the cafe. Rolling the coin over his knuckles before tossing it in the air and catching it. He did all of this without looking. On the fifth toss the door opened and Connor caught his coin putting it away. He waited for a gap in the students so he could enter the classroom. The professor wouldn’t let him start early, but he did gain extra time to study as he waited on his classmates. He hoped it would help him get through the test faster to have some of the information fresh in his mind.

When the exam was handed out Connor silently cursed Silas and came to understand why North had hated the class so much. More than half of the test was made up of short answer or essay questions. This was going to take forever. With a sigh that was just as much annoyed as it was anxious Connor started on the exam. He finished with a little over five minutes left in the test period. He was one of the last students in the room. He turned in the exam and left quickly, letting out a relieved sigh once he was back in the hall.

Connor: Done for the night and about to head home

Hank <3: How are you feeling?

Connor: Stressed and relieved

Connor: Happy that this is almost over

Hank <3: Take a break tonight. Alright?

Hank <3: Try and unwind

Connor: That sounds like a good plan

Connor: When I get home I’ll let you know if you owe me a pizza :p

Hank <3: Cheeky bastard

Connor: That shouldn’t be news to you

Hank <3: Its not ;)

Connor smiled at the conversation and opened discord as he got in the cab. He tapped his apartment address into the terminal before he messaged his brothers.

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Silas you jinxed me

RunawayArkait: More than half the test was short answer or essay questions

Sixty-Second-Set: Oops. But you finished didn’t you?

UnluckyNine: Obviously. Congrats by the way

Sixty-Second-Set: Then everything is fine

RunawayArkait: Anyway, I’m gonna be offline for the night

Sixty-Second-Set: Enjoy talking with Hank

UnluckyNine: Don’t do anything Silas wouldn’t do

RunawayArkait: That leaves me a lot of options

RunawayArkait: Also I hate you both

-

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: Done for the night

RunawayArkait: We can compare test scores tomorrow Josh. I’m going to be offline tonight

SimonSays: Tell Hank hello

RunawayArkait: Why is everyone assuming that!

Northern_Lights: Are we wrong

RunawayArkait: Well no

What.Josh.Does: Alright. Tomorrow then. Have a good night Connor

RunawayArkait: Thanks

He opened Canvas in his phone’s web browser to check if the exams from yesterday had been graded. They had been and he had passed them both. He had gotten 100% on his calculus exam and a 95% on his art history exam. Both above the cut off. It was definitely going to be victory pizza. Then he was going to unwind with a glass of wine and a bubble bath. He’d use what was left of his night to catch up on his sleep.

The cab pulled up to his apartment complex, he paid and got out to head up to his unit. Once he was inside and had put his backpack away and sent Hank a screen shot of his test results.

Connor: So, victory pizza?

Hank <3: Victory pizza. You got any place you usually order from

Connor: Nope. You can pick

Connor: Medium with cheese and mushrooms please

Hank <3: I really should have known that your pizza order was going to be fucking weird

Hank <3: I need your complex name and your apartment number

Connor: Ridgewood Apartments building B5 apartment 205-B

Hank <3: Alright. It’ll be there in an hour

Connor: You’re the best

Hank <3: You only say that because I bought you pizza

Connor: And coffee ;)

Hank <3: You’re the worst

Connor: I try my best

He put his phone on full volume and walked into the kitchen and got out a stemless wine glass as well as the bottle of white wine Silas had bough him the last time he came over. He poured himself half a glass and put the bottle away. With the glass in hand he made his way back to the living room sat back on the couch and kicked his socked feet up onto the coffee table. He turned on the tv and turned it to the true crime channel, quickly getting absorbed in what was on. An hour or so later when there was a knock at his door Connor just about jumped out of his skin. He collected himself and answered the door. He took the pizza and tanked the delivery person before heading back to the living room. He opened the box and set it on the coffee table beside his wine glass. He took a picture and sent it to Hank.

Connor: The right way to celebrate finals (almost) being over

He received a picture in return. It was of Hank’s coffee table, there was a half full whiskey glass and Chinese take out. Sumo was sprawled out in the background.

Hank <3: You’ve got the right idea Con

Connor: Glad we can agree

He moved to the floor in the space between the couch and the coffee table so he could use it as a dining table. He had a couple slices of pizza and finished his first glass of wine before he put the left overs away. He poured another glass of wine and made his way to the bathroom. He started the bath added bubbles and let the water run as he went to his room to get pyjamas. He texted Hank again before he got into the bath.

Connor: Now for the best part of the night. Relaxing with a glass of wine.

Hank <3: I’m more of a whiskey guy myself, but that sounds like a good plan.

Connor let out a content sigh as he sank into the water and relaxed into the warmth. He played music from his phone and stayed in the water until it went cold. He rinsed off and got ready for bed and texted Hank as he plugged his phone in for the night.

Connor: Good night Hank

Hank <3: Sleep well Connor

Hank <3: We wouldn’t want North drawing on you again :)

Connor: No we would not

The next day he didn’t wake up until around noon, his body deciding to try and make up for all of his lost sleep in one go. He got up and got ready, taking what he would no longer need out of his backpack and heading for the cafe. Deciding to walk since it was nice out. While he was waiting to cross at a crosswalk he sent the screenshot of his test results to Josh.

What.Josh.Does: Nice! I got a 97%

What.Josh.Does: I’ll cover your first drink as promised

RunawayArkait: You’re the best

What.Josh.Does: You’re only saying that because I’m buying you a coffee

RunawayArkait: See you soon

He tucked his phone away and crossed the street and continued on his way to the cafe, He put his bag at his usual table and went to stand in line. Connor hadn’t been in line long when Hank’s voice sounded from behind him.

“Late start today Con?” Hank asked, the nickname he had given Connor rolled off his tongue like they had known each other for years. The dopey grin it caused to curl over Connor’s lips made him glad that Hank was behind him, “you’re usually passed out at your table by now.”

“That’s only happened like twice this week,” Connor argued, it was weak but it was all he had.

“Connor, its Wednesday,” Hank continued, “two out of three days this week you’ve been asleep at the table. A two-thirds average isn’t that great when you’re on the third day.”

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that today considering as I didn’t wake up until like noon.”

“So you finally made up for your lost sleep.”

“Apparently.” Connor said as he stepped up to the counter, “a large Iced Americano please.”

Josh put the order in and Connor walked to the end counter to wait. He was tempted to pull out his coin but the cafe was pretty busy today and the sound tended to annoy people. So he settled for signing the alphabet in reverse. This would be his last test for the semester, he’d had plenty of time to prepare and yet his anxiety was still eating at him. He finished one cycle of the alphabet and started over.

“So what are you doing with your hand?” Hank asked, scaring the life out of Connor who had retreated into his own thoughts.

“Signing the alphabet backwards.” Connor replied once he had collected himself.

“Why?”

“I need something to keep my hands busy when I’m anxious and I don’t want to annoy anyone with my quarter.”

“Test anxiety? Is that why you’ve been studying so hard?’

“Yeah. I want to do everything in my power to make sure I pass my exams.” His drink was called and he went up to the counter to grab it. He pointed to the table where his bag was and when Hank nodded Connor made his way over.

Connor took his seat and got out his sociology textbook and notes. By the time he had gotten his stuff out Hank was taking his usual seat across the table. He got out his laptop and they both got to work. They passed the time in busy pleasant silence until Hank asked him a question.

“So what do you do with your quarter that annoys people?” Hank asked as he looked up from his work.

“This.” He said as he pulled out the coin rolling it over his knuckles then flicking it up in the air, catching it in his other hand and then showed it off with a ‘tada’ motion.

“That’s a pretty neat trick.” Hank said with a half smile, “but i can see why you wouldn’t want to d it in a crowded place.”

“It annoys some people so I try to avoid doing it if I can.” He said, returning his attention to his notes.

The conversation fell away after that. Hank was the first to leave today, Sumo had a doctors appointment. They said their goodbyes and Connor got back to work. A few hours later when he was on his way to the university he sent Hank a text.

Connor: Last one. Wish me luck

Hank <3: You’ve got this Con, luck or no luck

Hank <3: But good luck

Connor: Thanks Hank. You’re the best

Hank <3: I try to be

Connor was smiling at his phone like a love struck idiot and it took all of his strength not to send a heart back. He didn’t want to make Hank uncomfortable. They were only friends and most friends didn’t do that. He set his phone in his lap and used his hands to cover his blush and matching dopey grin. He knew he had it bad. Going back over the texts, some of them sounded like flirting. Connor took a deep breath trying to collect himself, he needed to focus on his final for the time being.

He was somewhat back to himself when he got to the university. Once this test was done he had four days of what amounted to free time. Thursday, Friday, and Sunday were days he was going to use to study for his nurses exam and Saturday he was going to meet Sumo. Monday it was back to work as usual and then that Friday he was taking his nurses exam. Then it was back to business as usual until the fall semester started, He got out and made his way to building 1 for the last time this semester.

He made his way to the classroom as the previous class left. There wouldn’t be any last minute studying this time. He took his phone out of his pocket to double check that it was on silent then put it away. When the last of the students filed out Connor entered the class and took his usual seat.

Once it started, the testing block seemed to fly by. He finished with half an hour left. Surprisingly this test was the one he felt the most confidence for. When he got in a cab, he messaged Hank first.

Connor: I’m done!

Connor: My finals are finished!

Hank <3: Congratulations! For the next two weeks you’re free

Connor: I’m going home and taking a fucking nap

Hank <3: It’s well earned

Hank <3: Sleep well Con

-

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: I’m done

UnluckyNine: Congratulations

Sixty-Second-Set: Time to celebrate

RunawayArkait: Time to take a nap

UnluckyNine: That works too

Sixty-Second-Set: Boring

-

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: I’m free

SimonSays: Nice

What.Josh.Does: Good for you

Northern_Lights: Party time!

RunawayArkait: Sorry to disappoint, but I’ll be taking a nap

Northern_Lights: That’s boring

Connor rolled his eyes as he closed discord going back to his conversation with Hank.

Connor: Apparently I’m boring for wanting to sleep off my finals

Hank <3: They’re your tests. You get to pick how you celebrate

Connor: Exactly. So I’m going to make up for lost sleep

Hank <3: Sounds like a good plan to me

Connor: Thanks

The cab arrived at his apartment and he paid and got out. Exhaustion weighed down on him as he made his way up to his unit. He’d reheat a couple slices of pizza for dinner and then head to bed. He fumbled with his keys for a moment before getting his door unlocked

Once he was inside he dropped his bag by the door and kicked his shoes off. In the morning the mess would probably bother him, but he was tired now so that was future Connor’s problem. He opened the fridge and grabbed two slices of pizza and put them on a paper towel then in the microwave. Tonight was a lazy night. He changed into pyjamas and came back into the kitchen when the microwave went off. For the sake of convenience he ate over the kitchen sink. He rushed through his nightly routine, Before he climbed into bed he pugged in his phone and messaged Hank one last time.

Connor: Good night Hank

Hank <3: Sleep well Connor

Thursday found him awake around eleven. Unlike yesterday there was no sleep hangover, for the first time in a long time he felt well rested. He spent the first part of the day cleaning his apartment and doing laundry. Giving his brain a break from the bookwork, which felt pretty nice.

Around three o’clock he made his way to the cafe. He stood in line and looked around. He found Hank at their usual table, he was absorbed in his work and had earbuds in. Since he had the time, he messaged him to see if he wanted anything.

Connor: I’m in line. Would you like anything

He scanned the menu deciding on a chai tea rather than coffee since he felt well rested for once. He looked down when his phone vibrated.

Hank <3: Fist of all, you scared the ever loving fuck outta 

Hank <3: My usual with two shots please

Connor: Got it :)

Connor: And sorry. I just thought I’d ask since I was up here

When it was his turn he noticed one of the new trainees, Echo, he believed, working the register while North worked the bar. He smiled at the blue haired woman, “Could I get a medium Chai Tea with cinnamon and nutmeg as well as a Vanilla Latte with two shots of espresso.”

She seemed to struggle with the first drink and North came to her aid, staying to help with the second and writing on the cups to make things easier. Connor always spoke his orders to the new hires since knowing how to sign wasn’t a requirement and he didn’t want to assume they knew it.  Shifts were designed so that at least one person who knew Sign Language was there. Once the drinks were up, he headed for the table.

He sat across from Hank in his usual seat and slid the cup across the table while Hank took out his earbuds, “so manuscript today or short stories?”

“Manuscript surprisingly enough.” Hank said before drinking from his latte and letting out a content hum, “what about you? What book are you rubbing your nose against today?”

“Today I’m going over the notes and study guide Markus gave me to make flashcards to go over on my breaks since I go back to work on Monday,” Connor said as he got out what he would need. Typed out notes, a hand written study guide, a stack of one thousand notecards, and a pencil pouch with that said ‘always look on the bright side’ on the front.

Hank gave an amused chuckle and shook his head, “I still think you should go over the definition of the word break Con.”

Connor drank from his chai tea to cover the involuntary grin that the nickname caused, “I’m taking an ‘actual’ day off on Saturday. Remember?”

Hank rolled his eyes but seemed to accept Connor’s flimsy argument. They lapsed into a companionable silence. Connor was working on his flashcards and Hank was working on his manuscript. Occasionally Connor would catch himself staring at Hank, but would look away before he got caught and forced himself get back to work. Until his luck ran out and Hank met his eyes cracking a smile that lead Connor to believe he hadn’t been nearly as stealthy as he had thought.

“See something you like Connor?” Hank joked, and it had to be a joke. Despite the way some of their messages read there was no way Hank would ever flirt with him. Connor turned into a tomato anyway.

“I was, um, I was just staring off into space...” he trailed off never having been all that great of a liar. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow them whole.

Hank didn’t look like he believed Connor but he didn’t comment on it. They went back to their easy silence until Hank had to leave.

“Sumo is getting groomed tomorrow, so I’m not gonna make it to the cafe,” Hank sounded almost upset that he was going to miss a day. Like he looked forward to these days too.

“That’s alright,” Connor said with a slight shrug, “we’ll see each other on Saturday.”

“See you Saturday then,” Hank responded with a half smile as he turned to leave.

Connor watched him go before getting back to his notecards. It took him a few hours and a couple cups of coffee to get them finished, and once he was done he headed home. He would probably stay home tomorrow too. Take a day to himself and mentally prepare for meeting Sumo and what that would bring.

He finished off the pizza and did the rest of his laundry. With his apartment mostly clean and his laundry done, Connor decided to call it a night. Once again messaging Hank before falling asleep.

Connor: Good night Hank

Hank <3: Night Connor

Hank <3: Don’t work too hard tomorrow

Connor: No promises, but I’ll try my best

He spent most of Friday morning fretting over what to wear. Eventually deciding on a black short sleeve button down that was patterned with gradient grey roses, black jeans and grey converse. It wasn’t a date, but looking nice couldn’t hurt anything. He hung the outfit on his closet door and paced into his living room debating on if it would be better to message his brothers or his friends. Richard hadn’t dated anyone before so seeking him out for romantic advise probably wouldn’t be the wisest. Silas preferred a friends with benefits arrangement over dating so he wouldn’t be any help. North would just make fun of him. That left Josh, Simon, and Markus. Simon and Markus were dating so that would probably be the best bet.

RunawayArkait has started a group chat with Made-By_Markus and SimonSays!

RunawayArkait: I need help

RunawayArkait: What does one do on a not-date visit to their crush’s house to meet their dog

SimonSays: Send their kind and supportive friends pictures of said dog. Obviously

SimonSays: Keep a level head, but pay enough attention to see if he is flirting back

RunawayArkait: Flirting back? That implies that I flirt with him. Which I don’t!

Made-By_Markus: But you do. I’ve heard all about it from Simon

RunawayArkait: Rude!

Made-By_Markus: As cliche as it sounds, just be yourself

SimonSays: Relax. Like you said, it’s not a date

RunawayArkait: Thanks I guess

Made-By_Markus: Anytime. Also Simon, I’m in the lobby

SimonSays: Alright. I’ll be down soon

RunawayArkait: And that’s my cue to leave. Enjoy your date!

Made-By_Markus: Thanks

Connor groaned at the lack of help. Figuring he was stressing too much over something that was decidedly not a date, he decided to spend the rest of his Friday curled up on the couch catching up on all of the true crime shows he had missed on his study binge.

He woke up at eight in the morning on Saturday. He took his time getting ready and once he was satisfied with his appearance he left for the cafe at around eleven-thirty. He decided to walk so he could work off some of the anxiety that was thrumming beneath his skin. He debated cancelling several times, but eventually decided that he deserved to meet a new dog after having worked so hard to pass all of his finals. If it so happened that he was reading too far into this, which was incredibly likely, he would have at least gotten to see a new dog. He would be able to add a Saint Bernard to his mug which he would have to edit and then reorder. He won either way.

Connor arrived to find Hank waiting outside the cafe with one of the biggest and most fluffy dogs he had ever seen. Sumo sat neatly beside Hank looking to be very well trained, which was probably pretty helpful considering the dog’s size. He took a picture of Sumo with is phone before greeting Hank.

“You’re here early.” Connor said in way of a greeting and Hank turned to him with a smile.

“So are you Con,” he said, lifting his free hand in a lazy wave, “but that’s more expected of you than me.”

Connor laughed, “Yeah.”

Hank changed the subject, “So I didn’t find a no pets sign but I just wanted to check if Sumo would be allowed inside.”

“Unfortunately no. We do have a service animal policy tough.” Connor kept himself from gesturing at the door with his free hand by reaching it out toward Sumo so the large dog could sniff at it, “I can go inside and get the drinks then meet you back out here, since I’m covering drinks today anyway. Your usual?”

“Sounds good to me,” Hank said with a thankful smile. “I’ll let you know if we head back to the car.”

“Thanks/” Connor said as he headed inside.

The line was thankfully short and it didn’t take long to place their order. An iced Americano for Connor and a Vanilla Latte with two shots of espresso for Hank. When he exited the cafe, both Hank and Sumo were at the bench.

“Ready?” Hank asked as he got up, Sumo obediently following suit.

“Yup.” He handed the latte off as they walked to the car and Sumo happily snuffled at his free hand as they went.

When they got to the car Connor opened the back door on the passenger side so Hank could get Sumo in. With that taken care of, Connor got in on the passenger side, only to have Sumo lean forward and lick a stripe up his face when he turned to look in the back seat. Hank laughed at the sight.

“Hello to you too Sumo.” Connor said, using his jacket sleeve to wipe the drool off of his face then reaching back to pet him, “its nice to meet you.”

“What kind of dog do you think you’re gonna get once you graduate?” Hank asked as he pulled out of the parking lot and began the drive to his house.

“Either an Australian Shepherd or a Golden Retriever,” Connor replied, “small enough to keep in an apartment but big enough to socially be considered a dog. I hope to be able to put them through search and rescue as well as service training.”

“Why am I not surprised you have all of this planned out.” Hank shook his head with a fond smile.

“I like being organized.”

“I can tell.”

Connor rolled his eyes, “What made you decide on a Saint Bernard?”

“I picked him up from a shelter a few years back.” He paused for a moment, seeming to consider his words, “my fiance and I had split and I didn’t want to be alone in the house. Took about a month to realize i was going to need a bigger yard and then we moved. Whoever had him first had already trained him which has made things a lot easier.” He looked in the rearview mirror at Sumo for a moment, “the big lug even knows a couple of hand signs.”

Hank had a fiance at one point, a few years back apparently. Connor wanted to ask about it, but the rapid change in topic made it clear that Hank didn’t want to, “Really? What commands does he know the signs for?”

“I’ll show you when we get to the house, how about that?” Hank suggested.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

As it turned out, Sumo knew the signs for sit, stay, laydown, and roll over. Connor spent the next few hours teaching him the sign commands for speak, play dead, shake hands, and high five. It didn’t go well, which was fine because hank seemed to get a kick out of it. Once he gave up and settled beside Hank on the couch they ordered take out and talked enjoying each other’s company. It was a few hours later, when they were getting ready to leave that Hank asked him a favor.

“So I kind of had an ulterior motive for asking you over today,” Hank started with a tentative smile. “There’s a writers’ conference next weekend, I was wondering if you would mind stopping by to check on Sumo while I’m away since he seems to like you.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind,” Connor said as he headed for the door. “He’s well behaved and a sweetheart.”

“Thank you so much.” Hank sounded genuinely relieved. He opened the front door and called over his shoulder to Sumo, “I’ll be back soon. Be good while I take Connor home.”

“I’ll see you next weekend,” Connor called to the dog as he left.

The ride to Connor’s apartment was filled with idle chatter, broken up occasionally by Connor giving Hank directions. It was nice, and his anxiety over today seemed distant and unnecessary. Today had been easy and comfortable. They arrived at his complex about twenty minutes later and Connor wasn’t ready to be done yet.

“Uh, today was nice,” Connor said eloquently. He was pretty sure he couldn’t have been more awkward if he tried.

“Yeah, it was,” Hank said seeming just as nervous, “um, if you want to come by again just let me know I guess.”

“Yeah. Uh, thanks then.” Hank unlocked the door as Connor reached for the handle, “I’ll um, I’ll watch Sumo whenever you need me to.”

“Thanks Con,” he said as Connor opened the door and got out, “have a good night.”

“You too Hank.” Connor gave him a slight wave before he shut the car door and went inside the complex. He had been so awkward. Hank definitely know now and he was probably uncomfortable.

Connor let out a frustrated groan once he was in his apartment. He made himself a cup of tea to help wind down before bed. The best thing he could do would be to act like nothing had changed and maybe they could still be friends. He sighed and finished his tea and got ready for bed. He texted Hank as usual before calling it a night.

Connor: Thanks for today Hank. It was a lot of fun

Connor: Good night

Hank <3: I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Sleep well Con

Connor smiled at his phone before setting it aside and falling asleep. As long as he could keep his feeling tucked away, things would be fine. 

Sunday went by in a blur of studying and self pity. He answered messages as they came, trying to make it seem like things were normal. Like he hadn’t potentially fucked everything up. He was thankful he had today to wallow because come tomorrow he had to be a functioning human being. When he was getting ready for bed, he checked the messages from Hank like he hadn’t been avoiding him all day.

Hank <3: Are you coming to the cafe today?

Hank <3: Is everything alright?

Hank <3: Connor?

Connor: Sorry

Connor: My exhaustion from the week came back with a vengeance

Connor: I didn’t mean to worry you

Hank <3: It’s alright

Hank <3: I’m just glad to see that you’re okay

Connor: I’m going to call it a night

Hank <3: Sleep well

Connor: Thank you

Guilt clung to Connor as he drifted off making his sleep uneasy and restless. He didn’t mean to make Hank worry he just hadn’t known how to face him. When morning rolled around he was exhausted. He went through his morning routine on autopilot. He made coffee and poured it into his travel mug before walking to work. He was almost late, but made up for it by working part of the lunch rush. He didn’t see Hank before he clocked out for the day. He walked back home and took some time to himself before studying. 

The rest of the week went similarly. His texts to Hank throughout the day and before bed became the parts of his routine he looked forward to the most. he had Friday off so he could take his nurses exam. Connor didn’t feel like he would be ready, but this was all the time he was going to get. He would deal with it come Friday.

He woke up early on Friday and spent his morning studying. He left for the university around two and messaged Hank first when he got in the cab.

Connor: On my way to the exam

Hank <3: Good luck

Hank <3: Let me know how it goes

Connor: Will do :)

-

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: Time for the exam

Sixty-Second-Set: You’ve got this

UnluckyNine; You’re more than ready

-

The Coffee Crew

RunawayArkait: Exam day

Northern_Lights: Bet you’ll be in the top half of the class

Echo-Over-The-Water: Good luck Connor!

SimonSays: You’ll do great

What.Josh.Does: Here comes the cafe’s second nursing student

Connor put his [hone on silent and spent the rest of the cab ride going over his notecards. Markus had given him a general idea of what the test would cover, though the specific questions were changed every testing period. The test was a mix of essay, short answer, and multiple choice questions. They would have three hours to finish. Connor wasn’t exactly confident that he would pass, but he was fairly certain he would finish before the testing period ended. The results would be posted on Monday and he would have time to register for the recommended classes and buy books after that. Not to mention a whole weekend with Sumo to help with his worry.

He took his time on the exam, and then more time to go back over and correct some of his answers. He turned in the exam with fifteen minutes left in the period. He ordered a cab and messaged Hank, knowing that the other was on a flight and he wouldn’t get a reply.

Connor: Finished my exam and I’m feeling pretty good about it

Connor: I’ll swing by in a couple hours to check on Sumo and send pictures

-

The Family Feud:

RunawayArkait: It’s done

UnluckyNine: Congrats

Sixty-Second-Set: Look at you go Mr. Nurse

-

The Coffee Crew:

RunawayArkait: Finished!

RunawayArkait: I’m gonna be gone for the weekend

SimonSays: Give Sumo lots of love for us!

Echo-Over-The-Water: Congratulations!

Northern_Lights: You did it

What.Josh.Does: Enjoy your weekend

When he got to his apartment he set his bag on the couch and set an alarm on his phone for three hours from now and laid down for a nap. When he woke up he would pack for his weekend with Sumo.

[himbowelsh]

Well now I need touch starved Liebgott something! I always imagined Webgott to work the other way around. Y'know Web being unused to hugs and Lieb having no sense of boundaries. But I'm really intrigued by a concept of switching it up.

hello i’m in tears bc this took so long to write, but...  enjoy an extremely touch-hangry boi.  be warned, for copious amounts of obscenely soft cuddling.

Long story short, it goes like this.

David’s just finished an article, two hours ahead of the frankly unreasonable deadline sent by his editor; he collapses on the couch, promptly kicks his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table, and slumps against Joe’s side.

Joe goes very still.

At first, David thinks it’s because of his feet. Joe can be weird about things like that; he values cleanliness, and “not acting like fuckin’ animals in the house, Jesus, Web”. All the things David was never allowed to do growing up in his family’s Manhattan penthouse  ---  like leave dishes out or discard his clothes in messy piles  ---  are exactly the sort of things that drive Joe insane. He kind of relishes doing them, just to see the twitch Joe gets by his eye, and for the way he grips his hips roughly when he growls at him to “quit leaving your shit everywhere”. David’s natural sloppiness leaves Joe needing an outlet for his frustration… and their shared bedroom is kept very clean. It works out great for both parties.

So, sure, it’s probably just the feet on the table… he thinks for a grand total of eight seconds, before looking up to catch Joe’s eye.

His boyfriend’s gaze has gone impossible soft. It takes David’s breath away, a little, because Joe isn’t like that as a rule. He’s sharp edges and broken glass, jagged teeth and bladed grins. He’s harsh as sandpaper and smooth as steel. He’s frustrating, and his gentle moments come and go like fickle summer storms.

To be fair, impromptu cuddling on the couch isn’t like them either… but David needs it tonight, and stepping outside the bounds of their normal relationship can’t be the worst crime in the world. He holds Joe’s gaze for a moment, questioning and careful… but, instead of pulling away, Joe just takes a moment before sighing. His arm wraps around David’s shoulders, pulling him close.

“Rough night, Web?” he asks, an undercurrent of implication in his voice. This ain’t like you. You alright?

“You have no idea.” David rests his stubbled cheek against Joe’s chest, sighing deeply as the tension slowly drains from his muscles. Joe is hesitant to react; his actions, even as he rubs up and down David’s shoulder, lack his usual fearlessness. Joe can grab his ass in the middle of a crowded bar, or ruffle his curls just to get on his nerves… but this casual intimacy is uncharted territory for him.

He needs a distraction from his own head. David’s got just the thing. “How would you,” he sighs, “like to hear about the plight of Heteractis anemone? Because I just wrote four thousand words on it.”

“Heter— huh.” Joe sighs into the crown of his head, ruffling his curls. “Pretty sure Guarnere caught that once.”

“Knowing him, he’s still got it,” David replies. When Joe laughs, it reverberates in his chest, a low rumble in David’s ear.

“Yeah, alright, Web. Tell me all ‘bout your anemoles.”

“Anemone.”

“Yeah, what’d I say?” Joe presses his grin into David’s hair. “Amenemes.”

“Anemo-- damn it,” he mutters, burying the words against his boyfriend’s chest. Joe laughs even harder… and, like it or not, the sound it a balm to David’s frayed nerves. Even better are the strong arms which wrap around him, fully encompassing his shoulders and pulling him against Joe’s body. It’s… more than he was anticipating, more than they probably need, but it feels nice, and he doesn’t want to pull away. David melts against him, curling his legs with Joe and letting himself drift off. Fingers card gently through his hair; his boyfriend’s warm breath caresses his temple… and being this close feels so good that he forgets to remember it isn’t ordinary at all.

If he looked up at that exact moment, he might have found Joe enjoying it even more than he was… but David, as usual, preferred to sail away.

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

That really should have been the end of it… but after their night of unexpected intimacy, it’s like a dam has broken.

Joe does it at unexpected moments. While David is flipping pancakes in the kitchen, he comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, chin looping over his shoulder. They just sort of… stay there. David is so surprised that he ends up charring the pancake, which Joe eats anyways, because he’d inhale charcoal if he was hungry enough… but while his boyfriend is wolfing blackened pancake lumps down his throat, no explanation is offered. David doesn’t know how to ask.

He’s brushing his teeth; Joe comes up behind him and holds his hips, just staying there for a few minutes. He’s reading a book in bed; Joe lies down, curling into his side like an automatic reflex. They’re watching whatever B-rated action flick Joe just insisted on going to see at the Cineplex, and Joe holds his hand the entire time.

Calling it strange is an understatement. It’s fucking bizarre.

Which isn’t to say Joe’s been shy about physical contact before, because he hasn’t. He’s just always been measured with it. Joe doesn’t hold back from touching people, grasping their shoulders or clapping them on the back… but he never goes overboard with it. His touches don’t linger. He’s a handsy person by nature, but David never considered before that he weighs every touch before giving them out. 

If that’s the case, what’s changed? Why has he suddenly become so free — even apparently craving — touches he’s never asked for before?

David doesn’t know much about the scientific method, but any good journalist can test a hypothesis as well as a lab tech. Early one night, before either of them have gone to bed, he sits down next to Joe on the couch and sets the remote in his boyfriend’s lap.

“Anything but reality TV,” is all he says, and Joe smirks as he turns the station to some late night show.

He’s paying attention; David is not. Instead, his attention is fixed firmly on Joe, not even trying to hide it. The curve of his profile, the shadows along his neck and collar, the way he always lounges when he sits… like he’s trying to take up as much space as possible. Something about him seems inexplicably, undeniably lonely.

David leans over and wraps an arm around Joe’s shoulders. The reaction is expected; Joe goes tense, like he’s trying to figure out what the hell is going on. David counts back in his head:  ten… nine… eight… seven…

Before he gets to five, Joe’s relaxed into him. Easy as that — it’s like teaching a puppy to eat food, or a baby to cry. Joe and touch go together like authors and caffeine. Touching is easy for him, but being touched is the most natural thing in the world.

A flame kindles to life within David’s chest, and soon it’s warming him from the inside out. He can’t keep a fond smile from his lips. After a moment, his hand strays up to Joe’s hair, threading gently through the well-maintained strands. Joe’s always had a weakness for having his hair touched, and tonight is no exception. He makes a tiny, content noise and leans into David, the tension slowly draining from his body. It doesn’t take long before he’s leaning against him, head balanced against David’s chest. Arms still around him, David holds Joe tenderly, caressing his hair while occasionally pressing kisses to the crown of his head. Joe’s heartbeat is steady, his muscles lax. David charts the gentle rhythm of his breathing until he’s sure his boyfriend has dropped off to sleep.

When he looks down, a wave of tenderness washes over him. Joe Liebgott with every guard down is a thing to see. He so rarely looks peaceful. There’s something restless about Joe, a relentless hunger thrumming just beneath his skin, determined to break free. He’s always had an edge of urgency to him… but now, dozing against David’s chest, he looks without a care in the world.

He ought to be this way all the time. He deserves to be happy all the time. God help him, if David has any say in it, Joe will be.

“Is it my birthday or something?” Joe asks, when David, completely unprompted, begins massaging his shoulders. “Shit, don’t tell me I’m another year older and just forgot.”

“Not for another few months, old man,” David replies. On reflex, Joe tries to twist and grab him, but David’s massage doesn’t let up; after a minute, he relaxes into it, slumping further back against David’s chest.

“You been acting weird lately,” Joe declares — as though David needs to be good, and as though he wasn’t the one acting weird to begin with. “Everything fine at work? You didn’t… gamble away our savings to the mafia, or promise Sobel our firstborn kid or something? If you got news for me, Web, I can take it without a bonus massage.”

“Why do you think — wait, we’re going to have kids?”

“Head in the game, Web. What’s going on?”

At once, he’s glad Joe is facing the other way, because David’s not sure what he could say otherwise. He frowns at Joe’s back muscles, kneading into them with a bit more force than necessary. Sure, he’s been… more physically affectionate these days. Joe no longer has to seek it out, because he gives it willingly… and even if touch doesn’t come naturally to David, the obvious way Joe eats it up when his touches linger in public or they draw close to each other in private makes it all worthwhile. Joe seems happier nowadays, so clearly it’s working fine.

Why’s he getting interrogated now?

“Am I not allowed to touch you?” he asks. “Just because I want to touch?”

“You ain’t a touchy-feely person. Never have been.”

“People change.”

“Not you.” Joe’s observation is too neutral for David to justify flaring up at it. “Come on, Web. What’s going on?”

He’s silent for a long moment before summoning a reply. “I want you to be happy,” he declares, finishing off Joe’s back massage with a caress of his neck. “I want you… to feel loved.”

Joe is silent for a beat before turning his head to look back at him. “That’s all, huh?”

“Yeah,” David huffs. “That’s all.”

It’s hard to make out Joe’s expression when one half of his face is cast into shadow, but David spots the amusement in his eyes… and something else, too, something softer that he can’t put his finger on. It sparks a familiar warmth in his chest, and he smiles.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” Joe sighs. There’s no warning before he’s leaning back against David’s chest, but David’s ready this time. He opens his arms, embracing him as they go. Slowly, Joe relaxes into the comfort of his touch, and the world feels a little warmer.

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 7

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 5.5k

warnings: mentions of mental disorders, foul language, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of alcohol

description: from jisung’s psychoanalysis to the crime investigation, nothing seems to be adding up. jisung and hyunjin have an unpleasant first encounter, and a conversation with hyunjin’s grandmother leaves you with more questions than answers. hwang hyunjin wanders the streets like a ghost, and the police are hot on jisung’s trail.

watch the trailer here!

07| seeing ghosts

You unlocked the door to your apartment and stepped in, the space as dark and cool as a tomb. 

You made a beeline for your room and chucked your bag onto the desk, rummaging through your closet for a comfortable hoodie. With a relieved sigh, you flicked on your table lamp and let the warm glow soften the darkness. The sun had gone down during your walk home, the busy sounds of the city hushed by the chirping of crickets and the rustle of the evening breeze. Jisung had held your hand the whole time -- two or three of his fingers gently hooked around yours and lightly swinging back and forth as you walked.

He had waved you goodbye from the stairwell -- heart-shaped smile and all -- but even as you propped open your laptop and shuffled through your notes, the feeling of his fingers lingered on your skin. You felt the blood rush to your face as Jisung’s voice -- soft and achingly vulnerable -- echoed in your ears.

Promise...you’ll never leave me?

You slammed your notebook down with unnecessary force, violently shaking your head as if trying to fling the thoughts away. Damn it, y/n. Focus! The notes you had scribbled looked as if they were falling off the lines of the paper. With a deep breath and a light slap to your own cheek, you began typing them up.

Patient: Han Jisung

Age: 20

Memories and short bits of dialogue flashed in your mind as you read over the papers. 

Session One. 

Patient has undergone mandatory psychological evaluations in the past, in educational institutions. 

Mentions racing thoughts, rapid heartbeat, and possibly palpitations when in the presence of the therapist. **(May simply be conversational and therefore unreliable). 

Suffering from nightmares as of late; sleep problems. Appears uneasy when speaking about said problems. 

End of session.

You frowned. Straightforward enough. Slightly strange, if read out of context -- but nothing that stuck out in particular. Biting your lip and shrugging, you flipped to the notes from today.

Session Two.

Questions were focused on family and childhood. Patient looked 

Your fingers stalled on the keyboard, Jisung’s expression from earlier flooding your memory. How his eyes had widened like a deer in headlights’ when you’d asked about his family. And -- had you been imagining it? -- they way his voice had wavered when he finally answered. Frowning, you shook your head -- no, no. You were probably just overanalyzing things, right? 

Still, you found yourself typing out the one detail that had always been nagging at the back of your mind --

Patient looks upset at any mentions of family and childhood

At this, you hesitated again. You had barely known the boy for two weeks. There were things that Jisung wasn’t telling you about his childhood, that was for sure -- but wasn’t it normal not to know everything about each other yet? And it’s not like Jisung comes from a broken family or something, you thought. After all, he did say that his mother loved --

You froze.

Slowly, as if like a ghost was whispering in your ear, you felt an icy cold chill trickle down your spine, Jisung’s hollow voice echoing in your mind.

“My mother...like I said, she loved unconditionally. Patient, nurturing, kind...everything, well, you could ever want from a mother.”

Loved?

Past tense?

Your hand shot for your notebook and you practically ripped through the pages, looking for any other quotes you had written down.

“I don’t think my family was like everyone else’s.”

“My mother’s eyes were always so...loving and caring.”

Your eyes widened, a horrible sinking feeling in your gut.

“It sounds like your mother loves you a lot, then, huh? That’s so cute.”

“Y-yeah, she did.”

“Your father?”

“I wasn’t close with him. He was never...never around, so…”

What the hell had happened to Jisung’s parents? 

You barely suppressed the urge to bang your head against the table. Am I stupid? How had you not noticed what he’d been saying? What else had you glazed over and swept to the back of your mind?

You reached into your bag and pulled out your textbook, mumbling under your breath as you scanned the glossary. Mood swings. Nightmares. Anxiety. You’d read about this combination of symptoms before, hadn’t you? Sure enough, your fingers landed on the page you had been searching for.

POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER

The words glared coldly back at you as you read aloud, “Patients who suffer from PTSD are those who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event in the past. Any mentions or reminders of this event can trigger the patient and send them into a distressed state. Symptoms include…” you felt a lump in your throat and swallowed thickly. “Nightmares, inability to concentrate, and an exaggerated startle response at any mention of the traumatic event.”

Your thoughts immediately wandered to Jisung’s sudden flashes between moods -- his bright, blinding smiles, easily swept away by the cold, stormy look in his eyes. How he sometimes seemed so far away, expression glazed and unfocused. And now, with what he had mentioned about his family…

Jotting this down with an increasingly uneasy feeling in your gut, you continued flipping through the textbook, skimming through familiar case studies and theories. Words leapt out at you from the pages and made your stomach turn: Abusive childhood. Case study: Jeffrey Dahmer. Psychopathy. Case study: Ted Bundy. 

You held your head, groaning, and slammed the textbook shut. Were you really looking at serial killer cases to compare your boyfriend with right now? If Jisung could see you, he’d probably think you were being intrusive and paranoid -- trying to diagnose someone just because a couple of symptoms matched up. You’d been lectured in class over and over again that it wasn’t your job to speculate and form baseless assumptions -- rather, that was exactly what made an irrational therapist, but...it almost felt like you were trapped neck-deep in quicksand. The more you tried to stop thinking about the secrets Han Jisung seemed to be hiding behind his dark eyes, the deeper you found yourself sinking.

It was nearly midnight by the time you finished the outline of your report, cicadas languidly chirping outside your window as you leaned back in your chair and yawned. In the end, you had included a bit of everything -- from the most harmless theories to the darkest case studies. Skimming over your notes warily, you shut your laptop and rolled into bed, completely drained. Speculations. That’s all they were -- it couldn’t hurt to write down all the possibilities, right? 

You shook your head before finally drifting off to sleep, a relaxed smile on your face.

What were the chances that Jisung was hiding anything serious, anyways?

────────

Bang Chan threw another shot of espresso down his throat, not tearing his eyes from his papers. His fingers were vibrating slightly from the amount of caffeine coursing through his veins, and he swore he could feel his heartbeat all the way to his toes -- but frankly, he couldn’t care less.

He’d received the crime scene files an hour earlier -- sketches, photographs, coroner’s report, witness statements. He’d spent the better part of the night arranging and rearranging them like a madman doing a Sudoku puzzle. Everything was fanned out now, his desk looking like a filing cabinet had exploded all over it. Cold cases, his own theories, even research he’d done on the side…

And yet not a single damn thing was adding up.

Every lead Chan had gotten had steered him into nothing but dead ends. He’d never seen anything like it -- the same type of killings, occurring within the walls of what was supposed to be the safest school in the country. They had occurred at irregular intervals at first -- a handful in one month, followed by a four month period of uneasy quiet before the killer had struck again. He could count the cases off of his fingers by now; Chan had read them so many times, raking through the files for even the slightest of clues.

First, it had been an arson in one of the health sciences laboratories -- one male student pronounced dead at the scene, ghastly chemical burns having melted away most of his facial features.

Then there was the body found hanging from the rooftop of one of the dorms, skull practically crushed from blunt force trauma.

The list went on and on, small details linking what had otherwise seemed like a spattering of anonymous murders. The killer was a pyromaniac, for sure -- more than half of the deaths were fire-related -- and might as well have been related to the Hulk or something, because the rest of the victims had been killed -- seemingly -- by bare hands.

Even Minho seemed reluctant to answer his questions, and Chan couldn’t blame him -- the sheer lack of evidence found at each crime scene was embarrassing. He could hear the coroner’s exasperated voice in his head:

“No fingerprints -- the killer probably wore gloves. No murder weapon, so no DNA to sample off of, either. Heck, there isn’t even that much blood spattering to analyze, Detective.”

That ruled out the usual causes of murders taking place in Miroh Heights -- drunkards who took a bar fight too far, crimes of passion, domestic violence. No, Chan shook his head, his brain feeling like mush slopping around in his skull and making him wince. They were dealing with someone much, much more complex.

Chan had a fistful of blond hair in one hand and a cup of nearly-empty coffee in the other. What was this killer’s M.O.? Serial killers almost always had a motive, and their victims usually had some things in common. Chan flipped through the victims’ profiles, gears in his head beginning to turn again despite his drooping eyes.

Na Jangmin, Victim #1. Cause of death: Smoke inhalation and respiratory burns. Chan remembered interviewing his classmates, and being surprised at how indifferent they had been about the supposed tragedy.

“He never saw us as his classmates, you know. He’d pick on the first-years like fresh meat. They say half of the new med students dropped out because of him.”

Interesting. He flipped to the next file, tapping his pen against his lip.

Park Beomsoo, Victim #2. Cause of death: cervical fracture and asphyxiation from hanging. Found nearly decapitated and swinging from the rooftop balcony of a dorm building. What had been interesting about this case, however, was the sheer amount of date rape drugs found in the man’s system during the autopsy.

“Rohypnol, mostly,” Minho had informed him. “Along with traces of GHB -- enough to cause brain damage for life. The man was likely already knocked out for good by the time he was hanged.”

This had been baffling until Chan had investigated further, and found out about the man’s reputation.

“He’d slip pills into girls’ drinks at the club,” one of his friends had told Chan, “and was proud of it, too. All he’d brag about was how many half-conscious girls he’s taken advantage of.”

Chan exhaled with a low whistle. That couldn’t be a coincidence -- the killer had to have known about Park’s disgusting habits. So the victims did have something in common -- although it wasn’t like any case he’d ever seen before.

None of the victims had been, per se, good people. They were, interestingly -- and revoltingly -- enough, monsters of another kind. They were people who wouldn’t be missed, simply because they were hated so much already.

Huh. A killer targeting killers. Interesting. But how? And why? Did the killer have some sort of fucked-up sense of justice?

He tapped his fingers anxiously. All his hopes lay on the evidence they had collected from the Yellow Wood attacks -- but the crime lab had yet to hand it over to his team. He grimaced at the memory of the body, whose head had caved in completely and rendered the victim practically unrecognisable. How could there not be a single trace of incriminating DNA from something so...brutal? And then there was Yang Jeongin, who, as far as he knew, was still in critical condition at the hospital. If only he would wake up, maybe Chan would finally get a lead…

Chan didn’t even notice the sun beginning to rise outside of his window until the first ray of morning light pricked at his eyes, making him blink in disoriented confusion. His burning pupils flickered to the clock. 6:25 A.M. Damn it.

He kicked his chair back and threw on a wrinkled suit jacket, stuffing all his notes into his briefcase before promptly stepping out of his office. Work never ended for Detective Bang.

Chan glimpsed his reflection in the shop windows as he made his way back onto Miroh Heights’ campus, running his hands through his hair in a feeble attempt to tame his bedhead (was it even a bedhead if he hadn’t touched a bed in 48 hours?). His eyes caught the familiar storefront of Glow Cafe and he immediately steered himself towards it. Wouldn’t hurt to grab himself a fresh cup of coffee, and maybe he could look at the crime scene again with fresh eyes.

The barista -- Hyunjin, was it? -- was scrawling something on the chalkboard sign propped outside, stumbling to his feet and brushing the chalk dust off his hands when he saw Chan approaching.

“All right, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin gave a small smile that looked more like a grimace, his tired eyes wandering behind Chan. The detective didn’t have to turn to know he was staring at the spot Jeongin had been found -- the barista looked like he was seeing ghosts. Chan took a deep breath before plastering a reassuring smile on his face, throwing an arm around the younger boy’s hunched shoulders and steering him into his cafe.

“I’m gonna need you to make me a cold drip, kid, because I feel like dea--” he caught himself, clearing his throat awkwardly. No death. No death. “Like shit. I’m feeling like shit.”

But Hyunjin didn’t even seem to hear him, wordlessly making his way behind the counter and starting the coffee machine.

Chan watched him and sighed, pulling out a chair and collapsing over a table. Seconds later, the diner door swung open, the windchimes ringing brightly as two familiar faces walked in.

“Good morning, Chan. How’s--bloody hell, you look like death.” Woojin’s eyebrows shot up when he joined Chan at the table, looking the sleep-deprived detective up and down. Behind him was Han Jisung, backpack slung over his shoulder.

Chan grimaced and checked his reflection in one of the empty glasses. Sure enough, his eyes were puffy and ringed with layer upon layer of dark circles, and his mop of dandelion hair was at the point of no return. “To hell with it. What brings you two here this early in the morning?”

Jisung and Woojin exchanged a look before Jisung spoke up, grinning his usual sheepish grin. “I set my alarm way too early and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went out for a morning walk. We bumped into each other, and were both in need of some coffee.”

Woojin nodded, pulling out a chair for the younger student. “I take it you’re here for the same reason, Detective?”

Chan grinned. “Guilty as charged, Captain. How--”

A sudden crash rang through the empty cafe, cutting him off. All three heads snapped up to see Hyunjin standing over a broken pot of coffee, glass shards splaying all over the floor tiles and the dark, bitter liquid seeping into the crevices. 

Chan jumped to his feet, holding his hands out. “Hey, you okay? Don’t move, I’ll get a mop. Uh, where do you keep your mops?” The detective’s voice trailed off when his eyes landed on Hyunjin’s face. The barista’s hands were still frozen in place, but his eyes were livid and staring straight at Han Jisung.

“Why the hell are you here?” Hyunjin was speaking through gritted teeth.

Jisung blinked. “Is...is it too early? Sorry, dude, I can leave if--”

“Why are you always interfering with the investigation? You were at the crime scene for no particular reason, and now you’re here again.” Hyunjin’s voice was getting louder and louder. “It’s pretty damn suspicious if you ask me--”

“You seem to be more of an interference than me,” Jisung replied, standing up abruptly. All childlike humour had vanished from his expression. “Rushing the investigation, hanging around the crime scenes despite not having an ounce of experience.”

“My friend is in the hospital, and nobody fucking knows why--”

“Jisung!”

All four men turned towards the direction of the voice, and saw you waving cheerfully through the window. Unbeknownst to the situation, you pushed open the glass doors and ran up to a bewildered Jisung, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “What brings you here?” You turned to Hyunjin. “Hey, ‘jinnie, I just thought I’d come early today, since I’ve been arriving late for the last couple of shifts. You know Jisung? He’s the blind date!”

You smiled at Chan and Woojin, who both nodded back but seemed at a loss for words, their gazes flickering between the two boys and you. Hyunjin’s face of confused shock mirrored Jisung’s, words finally spilling out of both boys’ mouths at the exact same time.

“This is your boyfriend?” “This is your friend?”

You blinked, taken aback at their raised voices. “I--yes? B-but--”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at Jisung. “So you’re the one y/n’s been talking nonstop about? Is this a joke?”

Your stared at him. “Hyunjin!” Your eyes fell on the shattered coffeepot at his feet and you yelped. “Holy frick, what happened? Hold on, I’ll get th--”

You were interrupted by Jisung shoving his chair aside with a loud bang. His expression wasn’t exactly angry, but you could see his fists and jaw were clenched so tightly they were shaking violently. “Fine. I’ll get going, then.” He looked to you, sighing. “See you later.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Hyunjin cut you off. “No, you won’t.” 

Giving Hyunjin one last long, wordless look, Jisung strode out of Glow Cafe.

When he had gone, you turned on Hyunjin, fuming. “Hwang Hyunjin, what the fuck--”

“Do you really have to date him? Him?” Hyunjin threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Why on earth are you so worked up about who I date?” 

“The guy’s suspicious as hell, y/n! I have a bad feeling about him. And I don’t fucking like it.”

You sighed, reaching behind the counter for a dustpan and rag. Woojin took them from your hands and handed the rag to Chan to clean the spill, and you turned back towards Hyunjin. “Look, I know you’ve been shaken up lately. We’re all on edge, Hyunjin. Lashing out isn’t going to help.” You rubbed his back gently, and, despite his expression softening slightly, his brow remained furrowed. Exhaling slowly, you tried to change the subject. “Is your grandma awake? We should make sure she takes her medicine.”

After making Chan and Woojin a new pot of coffee, you and Hyunjin headed upstairs to the studio apartment where him and his grandmother lived. Here, the walls were made of old red brick, foggy panelled windows letting in weak strains of sunlight. Still, Hyunjin insisted it was cozy, the wooden frame bed his legs were too long for shoved against the windows, his architecture sketches and designs hanging from the walls. Down the hallway was his grandmother’s room, which Hyunjin paid much more attention to than his own -- keeping it as clean and comfortable as possible.

Hyunjin’s parents lived and worked abroad, leaving Hyunjin in the custody of his grandparents. The moment he’d gotten into Miroh Heights, he’d moved into the shop his grandmother had started, and had eventually also taken up the responsibility of storeowner once her dementia had worsened and his grandfather had passed away. Nowadays, she seldom got out of bed, Hyunjin being the only one taking care of her and keeping her company.

When you entered her room, Grandma Hwang was sitting up in bed, a newspaper in her hands. Upon closer inspection, you saw that it was the morning paper from two days ago: MURDER AT MIROH HEIGHTS, with the burnt-down flat on the cover.

Hyunjin quickly pulled the newspaper from her hands, tucking it away under his arm. “Don’t let her read the newspaper,” you remembered him telling you once, “I don’t want it to upset her. I don’t know why, but she’s started saying these strange things ever since the murders began. I don’t want her dementia to get worse.”

“Good morning, Grandma Hwang,” you smiled at her, patting her hand. She turned to you, looking as if she were staring straight through you. Hyunjin reached into her bedside cabinet for her medications. “Have you taken your medicine today?”

Slowly, the old woman shook her head, her eyes landing on the newspaper under Hyunjin’s arm. “Familiar…”

You frowned. “What’s familiar?”

She lifted a crooked finger, pointing straight at the burnt-down flat. “The old Han house...from years ago. So familiar. So...so long ago…”

Hyunjin and you exchanged a look. Are you sure she’s just rambling? You mouthed at Hyunjin, who nodded, but his expression was unsure. I’m gonna get her some water, he mouthed back, and disappeared from the room.

A few moments of silence passed as you watched the old woman, the soft morning glow smoothing out her wrinkles. Not being able to suppress your burning curiosity, you blurted, “Why--why is it so familiar?”

Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration but her eyes were blank slates, hands gesticulating meaninglessly. “Pastries...the pastries, need to deliver the pastries to all the houses. All the houses except the Hans’--” she shook her head wildly now, voice trembling. “No, no, not the Han house!”

You could feel your heart leap to your throat, a cold sweat beginning to form on the inside of your palms. Even if she was just rambling, like Hyunjin claimed, it made you extremely uneasy. “Why not the Han house?” You pressed, your own voice quavering slightly.

“Nowhere to go, my dear, nowhere, nowhere, went up in flames--” she gasped, hands clutching her face as she babbled. “So much burning, Lord help me...and...and everyone...burned to ashes...except for that tiny, little boy. Crawlin’ out--”

You heard Hyunjin clear his throat from the doorway, and the old woman’s voice faltered. He was holding a tall glass of water in one hand and shot you a look as he reached for his grandmother’s box of medications. You turned back, hoping she would continue, but her eyes were already glazed over with the fog of forgetfulness. 

As she swallowed her medicine, you turned to Hyunjin. “She was talking about...about delivering pastries.”

“Mm. Back in the day, when she still used to run the store, we did pastry deliveries,” Hyunjin explained, stroking his grandmother’s hand absently as she finished the glass of water. “She used to go door to door, around the neighbourhood, handing out baskets of them.”

You nodded slowly. “Was...was there ever a fire in Miroh Heights? A really big one, like -- like a house burning down.”

Hyunjin gave you a weird look. “A fire? The deliveries stopped around 13 years ago. I wasn’t there, you know. Whatever she told you, don’t listen to her. Her memories get all mixed up.” He saw your expression and frowned. “What? Did she say something weird?”

You bit your lip, but shook your head. “No. Nothing at all.”

────────

Jisung tore down the darkening backstreets, not knowing where he was going and feeling like the ground beneath him was spinning wildly out of control. Fucking hell. He had barely sat through his classes without losing it, the paranoia eating him from the inside out like a parasite. The air was cool and damp, the sky crammed with grey storm clouds knitting together ominously.

They didn’t suspect him, right? There was no way they knew it was him.

Imagine his barely concealed panic when he’d run into police captain Kim Woojin first thing in the morning. They’d talked about his major, the weather, everything but the investigation. And Chan -- the detective had greeted him just like he always had.

It was just that damn Hwang Hyunjin.

“You were at the crime scene for no particular reason...it’s pretty damn suspicious if you ask me.”

Bloody hell.

No, no, no. He couldn’t let them find out. Everyone knew Hwang Hyunjin had been showing the early signs of post-traumatic stress disorder from finding the delivery boy half-dead in a pool of blood. There was no way they’d take him seriously. 

He began limping as he wove through the alleyways, the foot he’d dropped the rock on still throbbing from the impact. He turned a corner briskly -- and slammed headfirst into a stout middle-aged man.

“I’m sor--”

“Look where you’re fucking going, punk,” the man screamed, the foul stench of liquor hitting Jisung’s nostrils and making him stumble backwards. The man was clearly homeless, judging from the state of his clothes and his matted hair. He must have wandered onto campus while the gates were still open. His milky eyes were squinty and he was swaying, an empty beer bottle swinging precariously in one hand.

Jisung lunged forward, ripping the bottle from his hands, and in one savage motion broke it over the man’s nose. The man howled in pain and Jisung raised the jagged glass again, ready to plunge it straight through the man’s open mouth -- he knew this motion well, he’d done it so many times he’d lost count--

But when he stared into the man’s bleeding eyes again, he saw a flash of your face. And he felt his entire body seize up, his arm stopping dead in its tracks.

You smiling at something he’d said. The way you’d hide your face behind your notebook when you were flustered. The smell of your hair when you hugged him tightly. The warm, familiar feeling of your skin brushing his when you ran your fingers through his hair--

The broken bottle slipped from Jisung’s hands, crashing onto the cobblestones. The man was whimpering, nose still spurting bright red blood. Jisung’s gaze flickered from one of his milky pupils to the other. Blind. He let go of the man’s tattered shirt collar, breathing hard as he turned around and did the only thing he seemed to know how to do.

Jisung ran.

Above him, the sky rumbled with deafening thunder before the clouds split open, sheets of rain pouring down on him as he stumbled down the streets. Blood was welling in his hands, crimson and sticky, and he wasn’t even sure whose blood it was anymore. All Jisung knew was that he needed to find you. He needed you by his side, to tell him it was okay, to say you would listen. To make him feel sane again.

He made it onto the main road and spotted a figure in the distance. Squinting through the rain, Jisung made out the shape of a taller man stumbling towards him. Before he could muster up the energy to turn away, the man had already reached him, hands shooting out to grab Jisung’s shoulders in a vicelike grip. Blood roaring in his ears, heart leaping to his throat, Jisung forced himself to look up.

It was Hwang Hyunjin.

Jisung immediately shoved his blood-soaked hands into his pockets, forcing himself not to yell when shards of broken glass dug and sliced into his palms. His mind was racing, running over a million possible things he could say. But Hyunjin didn’t even look down -- his gaze stayed on Jisung’s face, eyes glassy but narrowed.

Jisung realised with a start that the barista had been drinking. 

Hyunjin’s face was twisted into an expression of raw, tormented grief -- the kind of sadness that could only be felt when one was heavily intoxicated. “I s-see him ev’ry time I close m-my eyes,” he suddenly choked out, and Jisung didn’t have to ask to know he was talking about Jeongin. “His c-cold hands, the pool of b-blood, the poor kid--”

Jisung tried to wrench himself from Hyunjin’s grasp, but the barista didn’t budge. This was bad. He had to get out, had to get away, before Hyunjin sobered up and recognized him--

As if he could hear Jisung’s thoughts, Hyunjin’s grip on him tightened, the barista’s voice barely a whisper. “Who are you, Han Jisung? What are you hiding?”

Jisung felt his heart stop. “There’s nothing--I’m not hiding anything!” He stammered, feeling Hyunjin’s dark gaze bore into his own. The blood on his hands were beginning to seep through his pants, and it took all of his willpower not to cry out in pain. There was blood on Jisung’s face, too; he could taste it trickling into his mouth with the rainwater, but he could only hope it was too dark -- and that Hyunjin was too far gone -- to see.

Just as abruptly as he had grabbed Jisung, Hyunjin let go of his shoulders, looking like he was either about to cry or throw up. The taller boy pushed past Jisung, shambling down the street and disappearing into the thick veils of rain. Jisung watched him go, a sick, hollow feeling in his gut.

Above him, the rain began to fall harder.

────────

You woke with a start to a crack of thunder, eyes snapping open and your chest heaving. Your clothes were soaked through with a cold sweat. You’d had a nightmare after going to bed early, but any recollection of it was already beginning to fade away.

There had been a killer in your dream, covered in hot, crimson blood and surrounded by endless fire. Screams and children wailing echoed in your ears, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t remember the killer’s face.

On your bedside table, your phone buzzed, sending your heartbeat into overdrive. Calm down. It was a dream -- just a dream. Shaking, you reached for your phone, reading the notification that had startled you. And just like that, you blood ran cold again.

DANGER

ACTIVE SERIAL KILLER AT LARGE

10:44 P.M. AN ATTACK HAS OCCURRED ON CAMPUS. POLICE BELIEVE THE PRIME SUSPECT IS THE PERPETRATOR OF THE MIROH HEIGHTS MURDERS. THE KILLER IS STILL ON CAMPUS.

MIROH HEIGHTS IS ENTERING LOCKDOWN.

REPORT ANY SUSPICIOUS PERSONS TO MHPD IMMEDIATELY. 

RESIDENTS STAY INDOORS.

You nearly dropped your phone, fumbling with it to check the time. 10:46 P.M. This was real. This was happening. Bits of your nightmare came back to you in hot flashes. A sudden burst of lightning and a rumble of thunder sent you burrowing underneath the covers, terrified tears beginning to form in your eyes. Pulling the comforter close, you pressed the Phone app and called the first person you could think of.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Be--

“Hello?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as soon as Jisung’s familiar voice filled your ears. “I-I’m sorry,” you gasped, voice trembling uncontrollably, “did I wake you?” 

There was a long pause before Jisung finally answered. “No, of course not. Is everything alright?”

“I--I’m scared,” you mumbled, chewing on your lip. The sound of Jisung’s voice, and even his breathing, was already beginning to calm you down. “Did you -- did you get the alert too? There’s a s-serial killer on campus right now.”

Jisung’s legs had threatened to give way the moment he heard your voice, pressing his phone to his ear like a lifeline. Despite your voice sounding small and shaky, he felt his erratic heartbeat beginning to steady. He quickly skimmed over the lockdown notification, cursing underneath his breath. Shit. Breathing hard away from the receiver, he tried to sound as calm as possible when he brought it back towards his mouth. “Yeah, I just got it.”

Your ears strained, and you frowned -- you swore you could hear something that sounded like heavy rain coming from the other end of the line. “Are you...outside right now? Get home as soon as possible--”

“I’m home,” Jisung interrupted you, a small smile in his voice. “Bad service, yeah -- a lot of static. Probably the storm outside.” The lie tasted bittersweet on his tongue. His hair was drenched in water, dripping onto his face as he spoke. Even through the tinny phone, he felt a rush of warmth fill his hollow chest, the corners of his parched lips tugging upwards. He could almost see you curled up in blankets in your bed, hiding from the storm outside. 

No, he corrected himself with a pang, you weren’t hiding from the storm.

You were hiding from him.

Jisung unclenched his fists, broken glass falling from his palms and leaving half-moon shaped cuts in his skin. You’d called him the moment you felt scared. You had trusted him. Jisung felt the water droplets sting at his wounds, his hand feeling as though it were burning away. 

Who am I?

Was he the boy you loved, the one who made you laugh, the one who made you feel safe?

Or was he the depraved serial killer that sent everyone he loved running?

You heard Jisung clear his throat on the other line. “Listen, don’t be scared, okay? The killer, he -- he won’t hurt you.”

You laughed, just the sound making Jisung’s breath catch in his throat. “How do you know?”

Jisung tilted his head back, face to the sky, feeling the torrents of rain wash away the tears that had begun to well up in his eyes. With the hands of a wanted murderer, covered in blood that wasn’t his own, he pressed the receiver closer to his mouth, lips curling into a sad smile.

“I just do.”

[sxfterhearts]

22. [4:22 pm]

“That’s all for today, good job everyone on your midsemester exams, and don’t forget to submit your assignments by midnight on Saturday.” Loud rustles echoed around the room as impatient students began to pack up their things and leave. “See you next week, class.”

Even before you dismissed your tutorial class, nearly three-quarters of the room was already vacated. As the last few students got up and bid you goodbye, a few of them stayed back to ask you questions about the midsemester exam you just reviewed. Being an experienced tutor for this unit, you listened intently to every single one of their questions and worries, providing them with answers to the best of your knowledge. It was common for you to get held back for nearly fifteen to twenty minutes because the unit you tutored was known to be difficult yet essential for all students from your major. You remembered taking this unit yourself two years ago and all the grief it had caused you, hence you fully empathised with your students.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar blonde-haired boy leaning against a table and browsing casually on his phone as you placed all of the midsemester exams back into the cardboard box, along with your stationary and other tutorial material. He was the last student left. “Bambam,” you called the boy. “How can I help you?”

“What are you doing after this, Y/N?”

You tried your best to resist the strong urge to roll your eyes. Bambam had been over the moon when he found out that you, his former class president from high school, was assigned to tutor his class for the entire semester. Ever since high school, he had made countless futile attempts to get closer to you. Most girls back then would have been flattered by the vice president of the student council’s undivided attention – he was always trailing around you like a lost puppy, offering to help you with tasks that you were fully capable of handling, or leaving you small gifts like chocolate and miniature wooden figures from his Woodwork class.

Undeterred, you never caved to his advances, for many reasons. For one, the two of you were polar opposites. The only similarity that you shared was that you were both teachers’ pets who sat on the student council. Anything beyond that, such as your personalities (you were the studious, quiet type; he was popular, smart and sporty) and your interests (you loved escaping to the library and reading; he practically lived on the basketball courts) were miles apart. Secondly, you absolutely loathed all the attention he gave you. You disliked his grand gestures that quickly became the talk of the school. There was so much unnecessary gossip surrounding you due to Bambam’s actions and you hated it when people talked behind your back. Some girls even started sending you anonymous threats on social media for being the apple of Bambam’s eye and for rejecting his heart. It was just too much for you and you decided that you wanted nothing to do with him.

Things were much more different now, of course. Most people mature when they enter university and thankfully the students who used to harass you either studied elsewhere or lost interest in the situation completely. You had enjoyed your peace and quiet without him in your first year when Bambam had decided to take a gap year, but he had since returned from his worldly travels. You rarely came in contact with him in your second year as you had completed a year of studies abroad, but this year, by some twisted stroke of luck, you had been assigned as his tutor.

He was the same old Bambam, always so persistent, but a bit more mature in his approach. He would ask you the same question every other week, about your schedule, and whether you were free to ‘catch up’, but he knew how to stop and wish you a good day once you rejected him. You always gave him the same answer, a polite “No, thank you,”, before parting ways with him. That is, until last week.

It was the week of midsemester exams. Due to the exam timetable, the exam of the unit you tutored fell on a Monday, four days before the exam that you had to sit which was on the Friday. Normally, this would be an ideal timetable, however another one of the tutors came down with a serious case of the flu and the professor assigned you to mark her load of papers by Friday. By Wednesday afternoon, you were marking papers in an abandoned corner of the cafeteria, running on a lack of sleep and an astronomical amount of caffeine in your bloodstream. When Bambam walked up to you and sat across you, spouting his usual questions, you just lost it. “No! I have nearly two hundred papers to grade and a difficult exam to study for. No, I am not free, so leave me alone!” You yelled at him, nearly on the brink of tears.

Bambam was clearly taken aback by your outburst, of course. You were soft-spoken and demure, never one to raise your voice in a public place. He could see the resemblance between the woman before him, struggling to hold back the tears, and the girl he saw hiding in an abandoned classroom three years ago, bawling her eyes out as she crouched amongst a sea of books and papers. He remembered that you never really dealt with academic stress very well.

On the surface level, Bambam seemed the stereotypical rich boy on campus, shooting hoops with the boys every day while playing with a different girl every night. It wasn’t true, though. There’s more than meets the eye.

You learned that when he had respectfully asked whether he could stay with you, and if he could bring you somewhere to take your mind off things. Suddenly exhausted, you finally gave in to him, watching him tidy up your things and place them into your bag. You figured it was about time you took a break from this madness anyways. He led you towards the footpath by the riverside across the road from your university campus. The two of you walked in silence, with nothing but the sound of waves crashing against the bay filling your ears. He took you to the far side of the bay which you rarely frequented and sat on the bench facing the river. There were many more yachts docked nearby, their periodic swaying therapeutic to watch, and the occasional dog would pass by, wagging its tail in greeting. Being in nature was calming, and you felt yourself relax in his presence.

“Hello, earth to Y/N.” Bambam waved his palm in front of your face. “Are you alright? You spaced out there for a sec,”

You swung your backpack over your shoulder and picked up the heavy box filled with stacks of paper. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Did you miss my question? I asked you about your plans after class.” The blonde boy reminded, walking side by side as the two of you exited the tutorial room.

You were still somewhat shaken by the flashback you had. It left a deep impression on you, and casted Bambam in a completely different light. “Uh, yeah, sorry.” You readjusted the box in your hands. “I’m just dropping these off at the professor’s desk.”

“Wait, did you just give me a proper answer?” Bambam wondered aloud, clearly taken aback by your less-than-usual response. I’m making progress, he thought. “Can I come with? I was hoping you’d be free after that too, I wanted to take you out for a coffee.”

“Why?”

“Well, see, I wanted to talk to you about last week. You know, when-” He was interrupted by your soft wince as you readjusted the box once more. “Do you want me to carry it?”

You shook your head adamantly. “It’s not heavy.” You shot him a pointed look. “I’m stronger than I look.”

Bambam stifled a laughter at your determined expression. “Yeah, I have no doubt about that.” He quickly stole the box out of your arms and cut you off before you could protest. “You know, Y/N, you don’t have to act so strong all the time. Let others help you once in a while, no one will think any less of you for sharing your burden.”

“I-”

“Ah, Y/N!” Your professor exclaimed, stumbling upon you on his way to meet a colleague. “Are those the papers?”

You and Bambam bowed in greeting. “Yes, sir.” You answered, taking the box away and handing it to your professor. “One of the students had their marks calculated wrongly, I’ve already sent you an email with his student number and the new score. I’m really sorry for the mistake, sir, I promise-”

“That’s fantastic, Y/N. Always so efficient and meticulous. There’s really no need to be sorry! As humans, we are bound to make mistakes. What’s important is how we fix them and how learn from them. Thank you for your hard work, Y/N. You’ve done a good job.”

You turned your gaze downwards, slightly shy due to his kind words. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” You replied softly.

“And who is this young man, Y/N? Are you getting him to do all your dirty work? I saw him carrying the box earlier. It is heavy, though, if I do say so myself.” The professor extended his hand in a handshake, to which Bambam responded with a bright smile on his face.

“My name’s Bambam, sir. I’m doing your unit too, and Y/N is my tutor.”

The professor’s eyebrows quirked up in interest. “Oh? Is this something I should be worried about?”

“Sir, what does that mean?” You asked hurriedly.

He laughed boisterously in response, his half-moon glasses nearly falling off the tip of his nose as he did so. “I’m just joking, you two. Tell me, Bambam, how is it like being tutored by your girlfriend?”

“What-” You shrieked.

Bambam denied hastily. “Girlfriend? She’s not-”

“Sir, this is a misunderstanding, he’s not-” The two of you were gesturing and shaking your heads in unison, denying the professor’s words profusely.

“Ah, young love.” The professor readjusted his glasses as a knowing smile graced his lips. “Listen, son, I’ve known this young lady for two years now and I can assure you that she’s one of the good ones. Treat her well, she’s hard to find and hard to keep.”

Bambam flushed pink at his words. “You can say that again, sir.” His eyes met yours as he flashed you a bashful smile. Little did the professor know that he had been chasing you for the past six years, since the first day of high school.

(And little did you know that, indeed, opposites do attract. Seems like the blonde boy had a soft side that he kept hidden under that goofy exterior of his.)

(Of course, a few months down the road and a dozen coffee dates later, he would ask you to be his girlfriend.)

(And you agreed.)

[vannahfanfics]

The Healing Properties of Oolong Tea

Category: Hurt and Comfort, Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Ochako Uraraka, Katsuki Bakugo

Hey, everyone! This piece was made for @bnhabookclub‘s weekly SFW prompt, “I’m fine.” I hope you all enjoy it! ^u^

The ceramic mug was pleasantly warm in Ochako’s hands, as it had absorbed much of the heat emanating from the piping hot Oolong tea Momo had courteously prepared for their weekly girls’ night. Steam was curling in faint tendrils in the air above the cup, which was still full to the brim with the dark liquid sweetened with honey, sugar, and a dash of cream.

The tea, though still hot, was the perfect temperature to drink after several minutes of cooling, but Ochako made no move to do so. The heat continued to bleed out of the cup into her fingers and palms, turning the soft flesh a faint hue of pink. Distantly, Ochako heard Kyoka quip something about her tea going cold, and so she robotically lifted it to her mouth to take a dainty but mechanical sip. Its robust flavor, highlighted by the undertones of the sweeteners, spread a comforting warmth through her mouth and body. Ochako barely noticed. She was too busy staring at the entranceway leading up to the boys’ dormitory rooms, where one Katsuki Bakugo had made his exit not three minutes before.

“Guys… Does Bakugo seem a little more… tense than usual?” she finally posed and looked back at the girls with raised eyebrows. They were all snuggled up on the common room couches together, preparing to watch whatever romantic comedy Mina was loading into the DVD player. At her question, the pink, fluffy-haired girl peered over the edge of the coffee table with a frown.

“He does seem a little snippier than usual. He yelled at me this morning because I didn’t pour my cereal fast enough and was ‘hogging the box like a stupid extra,’” she pouted. Momo rubbed her chin thoughtfully, and her gaze shifted up to the ceiling as she pondered the notion.

“It’s only been four days since Kamino Ward… He was kidnapped by the League of Villains and held hostage and witnessed All Might’s fight against All for One up close. Even for him, it must have been a very traumatic experience.”

“Yeah, ribbit, but he’s Bakugo,” Tsuyu sighed dejectedly. “He’s not the type to talk about his feelings or accept help dealing with them.” At her poignant statement, the troupe of girls collectively heaved weighty sighs. Ochako sipped once more at the tea, finding its spreading warmth more therapeutic now. She knew she should focus on girls’ night, because they started the weekly get-together specifically to create a safe space away from their problems, but she simply couldn’t help but worry about Katsuki. Everyone is so convinced they’ll be rejected that he probably hasn’t even been offered help, she moped. Deku hasn’t even made any gestures to help him feel better. He just says, “Kacchan is strong. He can manage.”

But could he? All Might’s retirement had proved that even the strongest people had their breaking points. Katsuki could be suffering immensely, and they would never even know it because he was bottling it all up inside, and no one even attempted to twist the cap open to let out a little of the built-up pressure. That’s it! Ochako decided and set down her cup of tea to pour a fresh one from the teapot. Kyoka raised a critical eyebrow at her as she stirred in a small amount of sugar.

“Uh… Ochako, what’re you doing? You have a full cup right there. Are you going all space-case on us again?” she teased with a playful smirk. It fell from her face when Ochako abruptly rose from the couch and began stepping over their legs.

“It’s not for me. I’m taking it to Bakugo.”

“Why are you even bothering, ‘Chako?” Tooru quipped. Ochako could tell by the way her llama-patterned pajamas bunched at her bust that she had crossed her invisible arms. “He’ll probably yell at you to go away!” Just as she had clambered over Momo’s legs, Ochako stopped and stared down at the bitter tea swirling in the rose-patterned teacup.

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. She watched the swirling light patterns of the sloshing tea slowly settle with her lack of movement. “You’re probably right. But he may open the door and take it, too. If he does that, then I’ll know that I’ve helped, even if it’s just a fractional amount.” The group of girls fell into awed silence. She continued to stand there at the edge of the couch for a second, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she steeled her nerves. Bakugo would probably yell at her to go away and not even open up the door… but at the very least, she ought to try. That’s what friends were for, after all. Even if Bakugo didn’t consider them friends, she considered everyone in Class 1-A her friend, and friends always made an effort to be there when they were needed most- even if the recipient didn’t know they needed help in the first place.

“Wait, Ochako,” Momo interrupted when Ochako began walking again. Ochako looked over her shoulder to see that the black-haired girl had taken a saucer and was loading it up with the small tea cakes and tartlets that Tooru had bought from the supermarket. “Take these to him as well. I’m not sure if he has much of a sweet tooth, but at the very least, there should be something he likes,” she said with a smile and held out the pastry-laden saucer. Ochako adjusted her grip on the teacup before taking the small platter with a grateful smile.

“I’m sure he’ll love them! Feel free to start without me, guys. I’ve seen this one!” she chirped before whirling on her heel- not too fast, because she didn’t want the tea to spill and scald her hand. She carefully walked from the common room to the boys’ side of the dormitory, using the placards hanging on the doors to guide her to Bakugo’s room. She knew she had reached it when she stumbled upon a slightly crooked and bright red “Keep Out!” sign hanging on a door. Ochako kept Momo’s expensive teaware close to her body and kicked the door a few times with her foot since she couldn’t knock. “Bakugo! I brought you some tea and cake!”

“What the hell?” she heard him grunt from within. His voice sounded thick. He had announced that he was going to bed before stomping out of the common room, so it could be from sleep… But Ochako knew from overheard conversations that Katsuki fell asleep remarkably fast. It had only been about five or ten minutes since he had left; by all rights, he should be sleeping. Did that mean that Ochako’s instincts were right, and he was having difficulty sleeping because he couldn’t stop thinking about Kamino?

She jumped slightly at the harsh shriek of a chair scraping across the wood floor, then hissed as a few droplets of scalding tea landed on her hand and sizzled against the vulnerable skin of her fingers. Katsuki’s heavy footsteps echoed behind the door, but never seemed to grow any closer; he was muttering under his breath, too, words she couldn’t hear enough to comprehend. Is he… pacing? “I’m fine!” he barked suddenly, making her violently wince once more. She clenched her teeth with a little whine as more small, circular burns appeared on her hand from the hot Oolong.

He said he was fine… But he didn’t tell her to go away.

“Bakugo…” she murmured pityingly. Her eyebrows cinched a little, and she pouted determinedly before kicking the door with the toe of her slipper a few more times. “Momo worked really hard to make this Oolong tea! I didn’t add a lot of sugar because I wasn’t sure if you would like it too sweet, but I brought cakes, too! So please open the door and take them.”

“Stop bangin’ on the door, Uraraka; you’re givin’ me a headache!”

“Caffeine is great for headaches!”

“Shitty Round Face…!” Ochako grinned victoriously as his hefty footsteps finally thundered in the direction of the door. She kept the grin plastered on her- as Katsuki called it- round face, even as he flung the bedroom door open to glare scathingly at her. “I said that I am fine.” Her expression trembled a little at the unquestionable venom dripping from his voice, but she had come too far to yield to his defensive maneuvers. Wordlessly, she offered up the tea and cakes to him. His vermillion eyes bore seditiously into hers before slowly drifting down to the Oolong tea. His words were but a breath as he repeated, “I. Am. Fine. I don’t want the stupid tea.”

“Bakugo, I-” Evidently, as she began to protest again, her grin finally wavered and was replaced by an expression that Katsuki absolutely detested.

“Can’t you take a fucking hint?! I don’t want your fucking help, Uraraka, so stop looking at me with that fucking pitying look on your face!” He roared and, on reflex, knocked her hand away.

Ochako screamed in agony as the piping hot tea splashed all over her forearm. The scalding heat dissolved her fragile skin with violent relish, and she wasn’t sure if the steam billowing over her arm was just from the heat rapidly dissipating or her skin cells evaporating. Katsuki’s red eyes went as huge as blood moons as she crouched down over the shattered teacup and splattered pastries. She held her trembling arm at the elbow, wailing shrilly at the burning pain dominating her senses. Tears streamed down her cheeks to puddle at her chin, then drip down onto her fluffy purple spaceship pajamas.

“I just-” she could barely choke out the words with the sobs heaving in her chest at the terrible stinging pain, “I just didn’t want you to suffer all alone.”

“Jesus, I- Uraraka, don’t just sit there, here,” Katsuki huffed and grabbed her by the elbow of her good arm. It took no effort for him to haul her to her feet and drag her into his bedroom. He kicked the door of his bathroom open and flipped on the light. He lugged her over to the sink to flip on the tap. Ochako quailed at the sight of the stream of cold water, knowing it was going to burn like Hell, and tried to tug away. “No,” Katsuki insisted, and his grip tightened around her arm, but only just enough to keep her in place. “No,” he repeated more softly. With a gentle movement so unlike him, he pulled her back to the sink and lifted her burned arm to the stream of water. “It’s gonna hurt,” he warned.

“I’m fine, Bakugo, really! It’s worse than it looks!” she attempted to dissuade him with fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

“No, Uraraka, you’re not fine!” he barked savagely, and all the protests died in her throat as his voice cracked. While she was reeling, he jerked the burned section of her arm under the cold water. The sudden change in temperature along with the liquid streaming over the wounded flesh tore a shrieking wail from her throat. Soon it died into a few pitiful sniffles as the ice-cold water soothed the stinging flesh. “You’re not fine,” he repeated in a broken whisper. “You’re not fine, I’m not fine, this whole situation is fucked up and so far from fine, it ain’t even funny.”

Her red, puffy eyes found his. While her brown irises swam with awe and shock, his red ones burned with the most vicious self-loathing. He stared miserably at the disfigured skin of her forearm. “’S not fine,” he grumbled. “You were just tryin’ to make me feel better. Now look. I’ve gone and scarred you all up.” Ochako wanted to argue that it probably wouldn’t scar at all, but her tongue was unwilling to voice the fact. She went ahead and closed her mouth that was hanging open, since she clearly couldn’t use it. Katsuki’s face sagged woefully as he watched the last dregs of the dark tea swirl down the sink drain. “That’s all I can do, is fuck up and hurt people.”

“Bakugo, that’s not true.” This time, she was able to voice her opposition. He continued to gaze wretchedly at her arm, so she raised her good one to cup his cheek and force him to meet her eyes. He didn’t resist her. When those vermillion eyes met hers, she couldn’t help but whimper, because she had never seen him wear such a lost and devastated expression.

“I hurt you,” he insisted in a small voice. Ochako smiled forgivingly and caught the single tear that leaked out of the corner of his eye with her thumb. The fact that he was so passive right now, accepting her gestures and even deigning to shed a tear, meant that Ochako’s instincts had been correct. Katsuki was so overwhelmed by the incident at Kamino Ward that he was shouldering the blame entirely. In his mind, it was he and he alone who caused the downfall of the invincible, infallible, indestructible All Might.

“It’s not your fault.” She only had to say it once before the dam broke. He let out a choking sob and put a tightly balled fist to his mouth, obviously trying to contain the roiling emotions inside him. She let out a soothing “hey” and stroked his cheek a little. “It’s okay. You can let it out. I won’t judge you. It’s okay.” It was the most distraught she had ever seen him- face flushed, eyes brimming with tears, teeth clenched, and breaths heaved in between little sobs. At her coaxing, he slowly dropped his hand from his mouth and let out a little choking snuffle, then hung his head.

“I was so fucking useless, Uraraka.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” she said firmly. She reached up to put her hand on the back of his head, guiding his forehead to her shoulder. His hands came up to dig into her upper arms, like she was his lifeline, keeping him from sweeping out into an unforgiving and perilous sea. His body shuddered with an agonized groan, and she began to feel the shoulder of her pajama shirt dampening as the tears finally poured down. “It’s not your fault,” she repeated while rubbing comforting circles into the muscles of his upper back, just above his shoulder blades. “All Might doesn’t blame you. We don’t blame you. Please stop blaming yourself. Sometimes there are just things we cannot do alone, and it’s okay if you need help. But it’s not your fault if that help doesn’t turn out the way you wanted it to.”

His grip on her arm tightened as he heaved another wracking sob. She rested her head against his as he sought ought more of her reassuring presence, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She closed her eyes as tears of her own began to prickle in the corners of her eyes. It was just so heartbreaking, seeing the ordinarily confident and proud Katsuki reduced to such a state. It was enough to bring even the stoutest, staunchest stone wall of a person to tears. Ochako was not made of stone at all, so the tears began to cascade. “It’s not your fault.”

Finally, he nodded weakly. Ochako smiled as he began to wind himself down, inhaling and exhaling deeply to steady his breathing. With each deflation of his lungs, she could feel the tension working out of his muscles. Soon, he was breathing normally again, but he remained with his face buried into her neck and her small frame supporting his bulky one. “Bakugo-”

“Katsuki,” he interrupted quietly. Her face flushed pink. No one called him by his given name, not even Deku- just Kacchan, but that was a little different. “Call me Katsuki, and just… I need a little longer.” Ochako smiled sweetly and nodded. Her head still leaned against his, and his ash-blond hairs twisted a bit with her chestnut locks.

“You take as long as you need to. I’ll be right here.” She closed her eyes to relax, just allowing him to recover his mental state when he did something she would never have expected. His hands slipped from her upper arms to slowly slide to her lower back, and then he pulled her body against his in a small but firm hug. Ochako was so shocked at the intimate gesture that she just froze. She didn’t want him to think it was unwelcome, however, so she quickly gave him a squeeze of her own in response. Her cheeks reddened further when she felt him grin against the junction of her neck.

“Thank you... Ochako.” She hummed affirmingly, and he finally retreated, giving her a small smile. He then returned to serious, kinda-grumpy Katsuki, frowning at her burned arm and lifting it to inspect the injury. “Jeez… Can’t believe myself for this.”

“It’s okay!” she chirped brightly, and he gave her an inquisitive side-eye. “I don’t mind a scar. Scars are sexy, right?” He stared at her in utter disbelief for a second before bursting into a fit of incredulous laughter. Ochako started pouting, very unappreciative of his complete disregard for the sexiness of scars. “What?”

“You? Sexy? Come on.”

“Katsuki, that’s mean,” she frowned. She knew she wasn’t as sexy as Momo or Kyoka, but damn, did he have to go for the throat? His cheeks darkened, and he gave her a stern look.

“Dammit, that’s not-! I just mean-! Gah, I just meant that you’re cute, that’s all! Cute and sexy are two different things, but bein’ cute ain’t bad!” It was evident that he was saying these things well before actually realizing it, because after he finished babbling, he went as red as his vermillion eyes. Ochako stared at him with a gaping mouth.

“You think I’m… cute?”

“W-well, yeah,” he grunted nonchalantly, but the increasing hue of his face belied his words. “With those cheeks of yours, how can I not?” She squeaked in protest as he playfully pinched one of them emphatically. She swatted his hand away, protesting loudly but very much enjoying the compliment as betrayed by her blush. She was so focused on maintaining the unbothered act that he didn’t notice his face approaching her other cheek until he pressed a quick, chaste kiss to it. Her face immediately blazed with heat, like he had dumped some more hot Oolong right in it. He moved so that his face was hovering right in front of hers, their noses nearly touching. “Thanks for the help, cutie.”

It probably would’ve been the smoothest line ever if his face wasn’t the color of Tooru’s llama pajamas. Literally, it was the exact shade, a bright pink bubblegum color. Ochako got the image in her head of Katsuki dressed like a fluffy llama and immediately snorted piggishly in laughter. He reared back as she doubled over, giggling and holding her stomach. “The fuck you laughing at? I mean it!”

“No-! Ah, it’s just-! Ahahaha… You’re just so cute!”

“The hell? I ain’t cute! I fall under the category of sexy, thank you very much! Damn Cheeks…” he grumbled. Still holding her arm aloft, he began rummaging through his medicine cabinet and procured a tub of burn cream and some bandages. They quibbled back and forth over his levels of cuteness and sexiness as he applied the thick white cream to the burn and then wrapped it up. She was so absorbed in trying to keep from breaking into hysterical snickers that she barely registered the little spikes of pain his ministrations caused. After he secured the loose end of the bandage with a fastener, he playfully shoved her in the head. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Cheeks.”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?”

“Damn right,” he confirmed haughtily with another pinch. She groaned as he yanked on the sensitive skin and slapped half-heartedly at him, making him grin widely. “Better get used to it, Cheeks.” She sniggered happily and looked down at her bandaged arm. He had been very gentle in nursing her injury, applying only the necessary amount of pressure, and hadn’t wrapped the dressings too tight. It made her smile warmly. “Oi. Space Case,” he huffed and knocked on her head with his knuckles.

“What?” she pouted. She shrilled as his face dove down to steal a little kiss from her. All she saw was his triumphant grin as he strolled out of the bathroom with his hands stuffed into his sweatpants pockets. “K-Katsuki…!”

“You make it too easy! Let’s go.”

“Wh-where?”

“You were so damn insistent on that tea, so I’m goin’ to get some.” She jumped when she heard the click of his doorknob.

“Ah! Wait for me!” she cried and rushed out of the bathroom. It wasn’t necessary, as he already stood in the threshold. He frowned at her with the faintest hint of a smile. As she hurried to his side, he roughly threw his arm around her shoulders and steered her into the hall. Her face steamed hot with embarrassment, but she snuggled into his form with a tiny smile. “… Are you gonna try the little cakes too?”

“Eh? I ain’t tryin’ no frou-frou girly-ass cakes.”

“But they’re good!”

“Just one! But you better pick wisely. I ain’t gonna forgive you if you give me something gross.”

“Hehe, don’t worry,” Ochako reassured him brightly. He grinned and hugged her a little tighter.

“Ochako?”

“Mhmm?”

“… Nuthin’.” He didn’t say it, but she knew he was thanking her again. She decided against embarrassing him by acknowledging that, and instead said, “Thanks for your help with the burn.” He raised an eyebrow at her, then looked away, faintly blushing.

“Anytime.”

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