#bagel’s train of thought

[anderscim]

✦ a really old minitheory about jax that had been left in my drafts for nearly a year

title is pretty self-explanatory.

// spoilers for the pilot episode of TADC

so, this is actually an old theory that i had created back when the pilot first came out—but i decided that it’s worth sharing now. basically, it summarizes what i think could possibly be a reason behind our favorite rabbitoid’s behavior.

take everything with a grain of salt. (^^)

this might sound like a weird place to start from, but i swear there’s a line of thinking behind it—what could be some of the reasons that a character abstracts?

at the very least, we know for sure that abstraction occurs if a character’s mental state entirely collapses—which could happen for a myriad of reasons. mental breakdown, existential crisis, you name it.

however, the most important effect that comes with abstraction is that they completely lose their sense of identity—which is also shown externally with the abstracted character’s appearance.

this led me to think that a possible reason for abstraction could also play into identity—whether that’s losing it, somehow messing with it one way or another, or, in a crazy scenario, doing something (aka recovering original memories, for example) that would cause them to clash with their current identity. things like that. obviously there’s some very strong theories out there as to what could also be other reasons for abstracting, but for now i’ll stick with the simpler explanations.

okay, but what does this have to do with jax?

basically, i needed to set up the previous context in order to be able to explain a possible reason for jax’s… jacka$$ery. yeah. that works.

as far as i can tell, it looks like he’s essentially being mean to everyone else just for the sake of it. from (allegedly) placing a centipede in ragatha’s room, to constantly bullying gangle, to pretty much every snide comment in general—it seems that he’s completely cemented his role as the “mean guy” of the series. but what if that was his goal?

the reason why i partly discussed identity in the abstraction section is because, to me, it seems like jax is setting up his own identity as the rudest and most chaotic character in the cast as a way to ensure his survival in this digital world for as long as possible. or in other words, this identity of his is something he can consistently fall back onto no matter what happens, which allows him to keep his mental stability a bit better than others. it’s a simple role that was developed only within the context of the digital circus, and he seems completely comfortable with staying in it.

additionally, here are some other circumstances where he could just fall back on his “identity”— - something bad happens to him? sure, let’s call it karma. - in the event that he does something that causes a bit too much destruction? it’s fine, he’s supposed to be the guy that would do something like that anyways. (edit: he did exactly this in episode 2. just my luck. help me.) - hurts someone on accident? wouldn’t be out of the question. maybe even intentionally if the time calls for it.

overall, it feels like his current place as the “rude character” makes it a lot easier for him to stay consistent and keep things less complicated. being nice is difficult and nuanced, you may unintentionally hurt someone by saying the wrong thing—but if you’re already known to harm people one way or another, there’s absolutely no mistakes you can make.

and for jax, it’s a way to keep himself grounded while causing a ton of chaos on the side—which he seems to like doing, so it works. this is pretty much a foolproof method of survival for him; at least, until something happens which he doesn’t expect.

but this is all just speculation. feel free to chime in with some of your own insights (´∀｀*)

———

edit: yes, this is pretty old haha. but i think it still somewhat holds true for episode 2, so i’m posting it for now. would be kinda funny if i was entirely wrong about this though (￣ ￣)

[anderscim]

wait.

let’s go back to the first footnote:

so that’s why david isn’t in there.

(it could be referring to the fact that this song is from his perspective, so in the lyrics david would be referred to as “I,” not “you” or “this person” or “that person”)

(i’ll make a full analysis on this later)

SOLVED CROSSWORD IN NEW DRDT MV

GO WATCH THE NEW DRDT MV PLS >:D

so hey i just watched that mv and slowed down to this frame of a crossword so i solved it :D

uh things to note

Teruko is number 13 ofc

there is no david on this crossword, but only mai can fit

[awetistic-things]

genuine question 👇🏼

why are there no parking lots in nyc? i get there's no space in the city but even near parks they have like 8 spots max like i just am so confused 😭

[spinningbagel]

This is like,, a silly post and isn't at all needed to know for the stories but I was thinking about what everyone would get for breakfast for some reason? (It's quarter to 10pm, nowhere close to breakfast so idrk where this has come from!) but anyways.

Daniel: He's a French toast dude, devours that shit. Usually has it with an absurd amount of maple syrup. ("The Canadian of the syrup cancels out the French of the toast!" "...You know French Canadians are thing...right?" "FUCK") he'd also drink lattes religiously.

Andrew: I think he'd also get dragged into eating French toast (less syrup on his) but would enjoy a good bagel (MY HEAD/j) as well, would have a coffee with a decent amount of milk & sugar

Ray: He'd have a breakfast B.L.T and black coffee. Can I explain this, no? But she's my character so whatever I say goes/lh

Jack & Mimi: Pancakes. You cannot say otherwise, they'd have pancakes, going the full nine yards with it too, syrup, berries, ice-cream, sprinkles if they beg Andrew (he's responsible for acquiring food each morning). They'd also have lil hot chocolates, nothing too big, they're hyper enough as is.

Ace: Toast and an energy drink, Andrew absolutely gets on their case about it but like. She just doesn't care 🔥 ("You can't have that. That's not breakfast." "TOO BAD OLD MANN")

Luke: They just have bacon and scrambled eggs with a black coffee (they deal with Ace, they need it.). Usually has much larger proportions to everyone else.

Lin: Toasted ham & cheese croissants with some tea 🔥🔥

Kathrine: Has really sweet coffee- much to the surprise of everyone ("yknow I didn't think you'd have a sweet tooth Kathy!!" "....We've barely talked..I'm not surprised you don't know.")

Ringmaster: ..Bugs probably.../hj idrk he'd probably eat toast and drink cappuccinos.

So yuh! That's what everyone would have for breakfast (in my humble opinion) there is..no reason for this to exist. But it does!!

[harrysfolklore]

ring hard launch - blurb

the content we got today just SCREAMS fiancé!harry for me so i came up with this, enjoy !

gif by @sunkissedlouis <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If there was something that was definitely at the top of your list of favorite activities, was spending time with Harry.

It didn't matter if it was getting groceries, joining him for a bike ride or simply laying on the couch together, every moment that you spent together brought you contentment and joy that you couldn't find anywhere else.

And now that he was your fiancé, it was safe to say that both of you wanted to be glued to each other every single minute.

Harry proposed the morning of New Year's Eve, in the comfort of your home with both of you in your pajamas as you enjoyed homemade breakfast bagels, and it was absolutely perfect.

Ever since, you had been happier than ever, sharing the news with your family and closest friends and enjoying your engagement in private without prying eyes from paparazzi, fans and media.

"We better win tonight," Your train of thought was interrupted by Harry's voice, you were currently heading to the Luton vs Man United game, and even though you couldn't care less about football, your need to be close to him all the time made you say yes when he asked you to join him, "Thank you for tagging along, baby. I know this is not your scene so it's nice you came."

"I'm just here for the drinks and snacks," you teased, watching him roll his eyes at you, "And to enjoy the evening with my handsome fiancé, of course."

"There we go," he smiled now, grabbing your hand and placing a small kiss to the ring on your finger.

Ever since you got engaged, that had became his favorite habit, and it made your heart flutter every single time.

"It sucks that I have to take it off," you said, making him look at you with a raised eyebrow, "The ring, I mean. I have to take it off before we get out of the car, otherwise headlines will go crazy and Jeff is going to freak out."

"Mm-hmm," he paused to think, eyes darting for the road to you, "What if... you don't have to take it off?"

"What do you mean?" you said, noticing that you were about to enter the back of the stadium.

"I mean..." he grabbed your hand again, tugging the ring affectionately, "What if we let the world know about it? I talked to Jeff and the rest of the team last week, they said we could make it public whenever we felt like it, at our own terms. So why don't we do it today?"

Harry parked the car at the spot that was reserved for him and turned to look at you with a wide smile, waiting for your answer.

"Are you sure?" you smiled back at him, noticing the glow in his eyes that almost made you melt.

"Couldn't be more sure, love. Besides, the album is coming soon and everyone is going to connect the dots as soon as they listen to the first song, might as well give them an early heads up."

"Let's do it," you said, leaning over to kiss him, "I feel like everyone is going to focus on the fact that you're finally outside and with brand new hair, they won't even notice the rock on my finger."

Harry rolled his eyes again and gave you another kiss, "I swear to god, woman. You're something else."

You headed inside of the stadium to the VIP suit you were going to watch the game in, walking hand in hand with your engagement ring glistening on your finger, cameras around filming and taking pictures of both of you.

"Do you think twitter is freaking out yet?" you asked Harry as you settled on your seats.

"No idea, baby, I don't use that app," he shrugged, "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Would you get me something fruity that has alcohol that doesn't quite taste like alcohol? That's the only way I won't be bored to death."

"Sure thing." Harry laughed and kissed the side of your head before standing up to get your drink, coming back a few minutes later with exactly what you asked and a bottle of sparkling water for himself.

"So we're rooting for Man U, right?" you asked as you took a sip from your drink.

"Seven years together, months away from getting married, yet you still don't know I'm a Man U ride or die," he put a hand on his chest, "I don't think this is going to work."

"I was just teasing, drama queen," you pecked his cheek, "I know your true loves are Man U, the Green Bay Packers, peas and Fleetwood Mac."

"And you," he winked, making you roll your eyes with affection and take another sip from your drink.

A few minutes into the game, you found yourself quite invested on it, constantly asking Harry about the stuff you didn't understand and getting nervous when the other team was about to score or your team missed a goal.

"Lord, I don't want to watch," you said as a player from the opposite team was getting ready to hit a penalty, hiding your face against Harry's shoulder, "Harry! You're supposed to be watching the game, you've been staring at me for half of it now."

"Sorry, you're just too cute," he kissed the crown of your head, "You can watch now, he failed it."

"Thank god."

By the end of the game, you were both on your feet, cheering as Man United secured a win. Harry was ecstatic, and you found yourself caught up in the excitement, cheering alongside him.

While you were engulfed in your own bubble during the game, cameras has caught up on the ring of your finger, and Harry and you immediately became a world trending topic, with fans speculating whether you were actually engaged or not.

As you laid in bed scrolling through the millions of tweets about the game Harry finally emerged from the bathroom, ready to get in the covers.

"Are you reading about us?" he asked, sliding into bed beside you.

"Yeah," you replied, showing him some of the tweets, "But I don't think it was quite clear for some of your fans, some of them don't think we're really engaged."

"Well, I guess it'll be clear when the album comes out."

[anderscim]

hey! so, similarly to @/fuji-iri, i originally thought the closest guess we had to what was 256 words was the hamlet soliloquy.

however, i think i just found a much more probable answer to this hint.

i decided to look back at the lyrics “異常心情世界は踊る” (the world of abnormal sentiment dances), and see if there was any other sources where it showed up. and according to some sources—this is a reference to one of karasuyasabou’s older songs, “jabberwocky jabberwocka” (which can be found here). the same lyric can be found with a similar melody.

out of curiosity, i decided to look at the word count of the romaji lyrics based on this source: and sure enough, it’s exactly 256 words. (i’m not sure about the word count for the english translation. feel free to look at that as well)

i’m not sure what to do with this information, or how this relates to the code in the footnote, but i hope this could at least help!

Is anyone still trying to figure out the final code on the MV? The one with (the world of abnormal sentiment dances)? No judgement, I have no idea what's going on with it either, but I'm surprised there's so little discussion of it. I’m making this post to share some observations, and some of the things I’ve tried as I go insane over this MV. Warning, don’t expect anything too revolutionary.

+First, the code doesn't have a direct parallel in the original LGI MV, so no clues there.

+But I did find something possibly peculiar. You know the "find the 'n'" bit that shows up right after it? Well, it's lifted straight from the original LGI video, but the symbol you're supposed to find there is somewhere else.

That's the equivalent from the og LGI.

And there's the n. It's in a completely different spot, which makes me wonder if it's somehow related to the code. The n does pretty much coincide with a number of the images. Here's a transcription of the numbers, with the numbers related to the n in blue (you should still check I didn't fuck anything up though). Italics and bold means I'm not completely sure about the number.

1 4 6 3 1 4 8 4 2 6 8

1 7 3 7 4 1 0 2 0 1 4

3 0 3 6 4 5 1 1 7 5 9

2 3 3 6 8 6 3 6 2 7 8

9 3 0 4 0 4 9 2 3 7 4

3 0 8 2 4 3 6 7 7 2 0

6 9 7 0 5 2 1 7 3 2 6

&

4 3 6 0 7 8 8 6 5 0 3

7 1 8 8 1 1 5 2 5 7 9

8 7 6 4 3 2 1 6 8 6 4

9 5 6 2 8 0 7 1 3 5 3

0 8 5 9 5 6 3 3 0 7 1

7 5 8 1 4 9 8 3 7 5 2

9 1 4 4 4 1 0 0 5 2 6

Does it mean anything? Hell if I know! I have no idea how any of this works!

+Perhaps a more out there possibility is the changed alphabet. I've mentioned it before, but there's a point in the David MV where a modified alphabet shows up.

In case you can't tell, not only are letters listed in both capital and non-capital form, the alphabet ends W-U-X instead of W-X-Y-Z. This changed alphabet is not in the original LGI.

This is the equivalent scene. You can see it's perfectly fine, and as far as I can tell (aka: zero Japanese, just the translation and vibes) the letters aren't listed twice. And this is the video the David MV is based on, there are a lot of similarities.

This would imply, in my mind at least, that the alphabet was changed for a reason. I've seen it interpreted as another sign David doesn't see himself as human, as he doesn't even use the same alphabet, but it feels like a weird way to go about showing that to me.

So, uh, if you're trying something, and some words don't look right, maybe this can help?

+I have no idea what footnote 14 is supposed to be. "Hint: word length of 256". I've seen it suggested that it relates back to Hamlet's "To be or not to be" thing, but... while I think I did see one source with 256 words once, the word count is highly inconsistent throughout the internet, and almost none of them have it as 256 words. I checked with wordcounter.net.

-Wikipedia: 275 words.

-Poetry Foundation: 259 words.

-Poets.org: 276 words.

-Nosweatshakespeare: 275 words.

-Representative Poetry Online: 265 words

-Shakespeare Resource Center: 261 words.

-Litcharts: 273 words.

See the issue here? And now I don't have any idea what footnote 14 is. Here's some other things that it isn't.

+Literature Girl Insane: >256 words.

+Colored lyrics in the MV: ~190 words

+Lemon: Way more than 256 words

+The part of lemon in the MV: 113 words.

+The defense of Socrates: Way more than 256 words.

+The defense of Socrates, but only the part in the MV, and extended to the next end of sentence: I want to cry. 257 words. 257. One off. Why? Why are you like this? Please, someone check the fucking text and tell me I accidentally pasted in a word I shouldn't have. PLEASE-

+That part of the Little Prince in that one part before the tally 5 code: 198 words.

+Undefeated by the Rain poem: 139 words (in English Wikipedia, or 180, in the English translation found in Spanish Wikipedia, because my life can't just be easy so apparently the English version of the poem is different in different languages of Wikipedia what-)

+Just the correct/incorrect code: The most is 247 characters, if you include "correct13" and "incorrect".

+Yamanashi, the story "kapukapu" comes from: Thousands of words.

I didn't check anything else, but I can't for the life of me find what this is referring to. And it feels important, seeing as it's on the goddamn equal sign. Maybe it’s one of those excerpts from that part of the MV right before the “correct/incorrect” code? I don’t know.

If it helps, I’m pretty sure the code’s going to translate to something related to Xander, seeing as his numeral flashes on screen right before that. And because of that, it’s possible this 256 word thing refers to some kind of revolutionary speech or text or something the like.

How would the footnote matter? Well, you know the ampersand symbol (&) that shows up between the numbers?

Maybe, if we put the numbers on both rows together:

14 43 66 30 17 48 88 46 25 60 83

17 71 38 78 41 11 05 22 05 17 49

38 07 36 64 43 52 11 16 78 56 94

29 35 36 62 88 60 37 61 23 75 83

90 38 05 49 05 46 93 23 30 77 41

37 05 88 21 44 39 68 73 77 25 02

69 91 74 04 54 21 10 70 35 22 66

Then reference whatever text is 256 words long, we can assign each number a word. Possibly, we would only start where the n appears, just to give that some meaning.

Like, here's what you get if you do that with the Wikipedia version of "To be or not to be", starting with the 05 the n represents (starting from the beginning gives you a completely nonsensical message, I didn't even go all the way).

to - sleep - to - and - dream - of - against - to - die - opposing - to - that - and - no - them - consummation - to - to - fortune - be - devoutly - death - die - not - the - and - question - to - and - arrows - ‘tis

Like, that almost sounds like it works, but obviously we would need to find the actual text of 256 words, which isn’t the Wikipedia version of the Hamlet speech. I also tried with the Socrates text, but I don't think it works (from the n you get, like, "O - but - O - word - ashamed", and that's going to be in there even if you start from the beginning).

I also tried some kind of alphabet cypher thing, both with the regular alphabet and with the modified alphabet, and while I would like second opinions on account of my skill issues, I didn’t get anything.

If that’s not what the ampersand is for, here's what you get if you add the numbers together instead of just putting them next to each other:

5 7 12 3 8 12 16 10 7 6 11

8 8 11 15 5 2 5 4 5 8 13

11 7 9 10 7 7 2 7 15 11 13

11 8 9 8 16 6 10 7 5 12 11

9 11 5 13 5 10 12 5 3 14 5

10 5 16 3 8 12 14 10 14 7 2

15 10 11 4 9 3 1 7 8 4 12

It looks like it could be translated to hex almost perfectly, with the 16s possibly just translated to 10s, but I don't know what to do with it. I tried converting to hex and just putting it in as a Tumblr image URL, but nothing. Though there’s a chance I just didn’t do it right, I guess. I even took the first part up to the "n" and put it in th goddamn tally 5 page just in case it did something, but no. I tried the "word association" thing with the Hamlet thing as well, but nothing. Also tried alphabet cypher, even with the modified alphabet, and nothing. But again, any cypher cracking I tried to do should be taken with a grain of salt, since I’m a bit of an idiot at it.

One thing I didn’t do, simply because I don’t know how to, is try to use column cyphers. You can look them up and try them yourself, but I sorta doubt that’s the answer.

Finally, it’s a possibility “world length of 256” is actually some kind of cypher key. Like, not whatever it’s referencing, just “word length of 256” as a key. I severely doubt it, but if anyone wants to try it, be my guest.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, I kinda just wanted to tell someone, I guess. I’m going insane over most of the MV anyways, might as well share a bit of the madness. Also because of the content drought caused by me working on the MV video which is coming I promise but it’s going to take a while-

Anyways, thanks for reading my inane ramblings for so long! Take care!

[marlenesluv]

۵pairing: fem!albonsibling!ballerina x platonic f1 grid. also, reader x lando norris.

۵type: social media au

۵authors note: sorry it’s been so long! if you want a tag for new updates for this series, leave a comment letting me know! i’ll tag you in upcoming posts :)

۵warnings: dark side of ballet (this includes: ed/not eating as much, self criticism, teacher, etc) please be aware of this while reading. i love you. also cussing.

۵summary: a month after the dinner, y/n is still working to perfect her performance for her role as the black/white swan. luckily, she had her “friend(?)” lando to help her and keep her company.

۵this is part 4! please read part 1, part 2, and part 3 before this one for it to make sense. (part 1 is mine, i just made it on my main blog)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: lilymhe, landonorris, and 854,282 others

tagged: lilymhe, landonorris, and alex_albon

y/n.albon: reminiscing bc i start training for ballet tomorrow, missing friends and shit👾💜

view comments…

lilymhe: noooo i miss you, cant wait to crash ur apartment every few days 💘

↳ y/n.albon: my door is always open for u

↳ landonorris: and me???😪

↳ y/n.albon: 🔑

↳ landonorris: 🙂↕️

↳ alex_albon: wait. LANDO HAS A KEY!?????

↳ alex_albon: why do i even comment. you NEVER ANSWER ME😭🤧

user2: alex is just so offended atp😭

f1wags: new wag manifestinggggg🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

fp4albons: my favssss

ln4updates: lando has a key to her apartment?🥲we know they’re dating like js announce it😁

user7: alr, my favorite people ever (real)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You loved ballet more than anything, but the hours were ungodly. Waking up on a Monday morning at 5am to be at the studio by 7:30am was unforgivable.

But then, when you’re there till 11pm…it’s exhausting.

After those fifteen hours of practice, you needed about a week of sleep and four advil. Not to mention you were starving.

Your instructor said “lay off those bagels.” To which you nodded and then rolled your eyes once you were out of sight.

Your instructor was the best of the best, and you knew she meant well. She wanted the best for you, for you to be the best.

Sometimes, this was draining. In her eyes, the best was as thin as paper. Ballet was like this, and it was hard. But you had dealt with it for so long, that you started tuning them out years ago.

Fuck them. Its a sport. So, on your walk home, you grabbed a slice of pizza and a diet coke. You deserved it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, and 879,238 others

y/n.albon: 🌚⭐️🌝

view comments…

landonorris: never letting you drive my car again

↳ y/n.albon: okay (i hate driving so this is perfect)

↳ landonorris: (thank god because i hate being the passenger)

user3: name a more iconic couple? *crickets* yeah i thought so

f1editpg4: lando on the first slide is a mooddddd

workinglateee3: uhhhhh the second pic🤧🤧🙃

francisca.cgomes: if you’re not rooting for portugal…

↳ y/n.albon: uhhhhh, they’re my second fav team😁

↳ francisca.cgomes: fairrr🫶

user6: me waiting for them to date 🙂

user9: mom and dad fr

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your texts with alex:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After deciding that leaving Alex on read would be best for now, you walked into your favorite little italian restaurant that you ordered some pasta from after practice got over.

Should you be eating breadsticks, gnocchi, and a tiramisu for dinner? Eh, probably not, but you were tired and in need of some comfort food.

The whole situation with Lando felt like nothing and everything all at once. You knew he was single, and he knew you were as well. He also knew how upset you were about Ben quitting, but he didn’t pity you which was nice.

Family that had found out had been texting and calling you for weeks. Telling you how sorry they are, but you didn’t care that much. Truth be told, it was just inconvenient and inconsiderate.

If Lando knew one thing, it would how he knew how you functioned. At this point in knowing each other, Lando knew your schedule more than anyone else. He paid more attention. He never missed a planned hangout, a rehearsal, or dinner.

Stopping yourself, you walked up to the counter and grabbed your food, saying bye to the workers and started walking back home. What you didn't know was that Lando had happened to drive by and saw you walking.

Lando debated picking you up. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was stalking you. It really was pure coincidence that he saw you. After having a mental fight with himself, he turned his car around and slowed down by the sidewalk.

You, wearing leggings, a sweater, long socks and tennis shoes and your hair down. Eyes focused on your phone as you struggled to find a good song to play through your headphones. Your ballet bag hanging off your shoulder and takeout in the opposite hand.

Smiling, Lando rolled his window down. "Y/n!"

You furrowed your brows, looking up and seeing a familiar face.

"Lando? What are you- are you following me now?!" You asked, stopping to talk as he stopped his car.

"What? Wha- no! I was driving by and you were just there!" He defended himself, nervous about your reaction.

"Uh huh..."

"Do you want a ride home?" Lando asked, tilting his head a little.

"Are you going to kidnap me if I get in?"

"Y/n! No! Stop that, just-...do you want a ride, or no?" He asked, hoping for you to say yes.

"Um...." You looked at the ground, then the buildings, and finally met his eyes, "Okay, yeah, thanks."

You opened the back door and threw your bags in, placing the food on the ground. Then, you got in the front, taking your headphones off and buckling up.

"How was practice?" Lando asked, pulling onto the road again and heading to your apartment building.

"It was okay. Lots of criticizing." You sighed, toying with your sweater string.

"About?" Lando loved your love for ballet. But sometimes, he wished he could beat your instructor. Always bringing you down, for no reason. In his eyes, you were perfect. He was well aware that he liked you...more than friends.

“Form, diet, you know..all that shit.” You laughed, watching as Lando skillfully pulled into the parking garage of your apartment. “Thanks for driving me, Lando.” You smiled, getting out and grabbing your bags as Lando exited the car as well.

“Care if I come up?” He asked, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket as you nodded and started walking, Lando quick on your trail.

‘Maybe he does like me…’ you thought as you both walked into your apartment and you started to split up the food you had ordered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.albon, carlossainz55, and 982,194 others

landonorris: nights like this❤️

view comments…

y/n.albon: ♾️

*liked by creator*

oscarpiastri: have something to tell us, mate?

↳ landonorris: nah

f1wags: we have been summoned, WHAT

user3: it’s y/n bro i’m telling you

alex_albon: um…ok…..

ln4editpagee: we all know y/n took that first pic

user8: that’s literally y/n, i know those headphones anywhereeee

williams4life: alex has to be freaking out omg

↳ formula1wags: lily has to deal with the freak out too😭💀

y/ns1fp4: MOTHERRRR MOTHER MOTHER

user1: obsessed with this post, it’s my roman empire fr

user3: do we stay calm or freak out guys??????

↳ vrooms19: BOTH

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

twitter:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

tag: @rhythmstars

if you would like a tag for future parts of this series, leave a comment here and i’ll add you :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[mikkomacko]

begging for more johnny jack luke and reader just being chaotic or something please

“Mr. Hischier?”

Nico grunts into the phone, focus remaining on reviewing the product inventory in front of him. He marks off a box of goods from Switzerland sent by Luca, and then another. Timo and Lazar stack them on their specific pallet before returning to the drop off dock for more.

“This is the Hoboken police department calling,” Nico freezes, pen going slack in his hand and alarm bells are immediately going off in his head. Obviously something terrible has happened, you’ve gotten in an accident and are in a coma, someone broke into the house and hurt you and the dingbats Nico left with you, you fell on your run this morning and knocked yourself conscious, you choked on a bagel at breakfast and had to be resuscitated, you-

“I was calling to let you know that I’ve got three of your boys and your wife down here, and you’re listed as her emergency contact.”

“What happened?” Nico asks, motioning Jonas over and handing over his inventory list. He’s patting at his pockets for his keys and wallet, wondering where the fuck his phone is. “Is she ok?”

Oh right, he realizes, huffing to himself. “Yeah they’re fine sir. We picked them up in the abandoned lot off 32nd-“ the street the boys live on, right by the loft Nico bought them. “-they were running messing around and accidentally ran each other over.”

Unamused, Nico scoffs and shakes his head. “They ran each other over?” He says incredulously, then pauses. “Did those clowns run my girl over?”

The man-officer laughs. “No sir, she was in the vehicle. And no one is hurt, just a little banged up but ya know we had to bring em in, even if they’re yours.”

Nico and the police department have an agreement. They don’t fuck with his boys, Nico doesn’t fuck with them. And they get a heavy donation every month to the training department, and drinks at the bar whenever they want. Nico doesn’t tell them this, but he gives even more the fire department and hospital to make sure his guys are always prioritized. Lucky for him, the department hasn’t realized Nico skimps on them.

“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, running a hand through his hair. It’s fine, he can leave the guys here to finish inventory while he goes to pick you and the three stooges up.

“Had a rookie take the car to the Rock instead of impound, but we can’t let these ones out without your signature.”

“Yeah,” he says again. “I’ll be right there.”

~~~~

“Atta boy Luke, it looks really good.”

“I think my ass is bruised,” the scuffle of shoes sounds down the brick hall. “Will you check y/n?”

“I don’t really want to see your ass Luke.”

Nico rounds the corner, unimpressed hands on his hips when he sees the scene in front of him. You, Luke, Jack, and Johnny are all locked in the holding cell, not that it’s stopping you from looking like idiots.

You’re huddled in a ball on the metal bench, hands held out in defense and eyes squeezed shut in disgust as Luke sticks his ass out at you, fingers on the button of his jeans. He’s covered in dirt and there’s a rip on his shoulder, a bruise on the left side of his face.

He must’ve been the one you guys ran over.

Marino has his phone out, a wicked smile on his face as he films you shoving Luke away. “Make Jack do it!” You whine, kicking at Luke’s knee until it wobbles.

“Eww that’s very taboo of you, I don’t want to see my brother’s ass.” Jack cries, then he’s narrowing his gaze at you. “Does Nico know the dirty thoughts in that head? Because I always thought he was the nasty one-“

“Hey!” Nico barks, and you all go rigid and silent. In unison, every head turns to look at him, a series of timid and apologetic eyes peering through the bars. Not yours though, that are instead looking at him like he’s a single ray of sunshine coming through the clouds on a rainy day.

He waits for someone to speak, but no one does. Finally the officer that called him retrieves his keys, metal jingling as he sticks them in the lock. All four of you rise to your feet.

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, pointing to you. “Just her.” The boys all groan, sitting back on the bench while you clamber to your feet. The door gets unlocked, you step up to Nico with a shy smile, fluttering your pretty eyes at him. It takes all his will power to just stare down at you, expression neutral.

Nico juts his head to side, motioning you down the hallway. He sends the boys one last warning look before gripping the back of your neck, not harsh or painfully, but firm enough that he feels all the muscles in your body relax.

He’s not really sure how he’s supposed to show authority like this in front of the boys when you seem to enjoy it far too much, but what else can he do?

The officer passes them, returning to the front desk and Nico directs you through a door, into an interrogation room. The door slams shut behind him, heavy and loud. Nico guides you to the chair, urging you to sit. You do so politely, hands folded in your lap and eyes following him as he sits across from you.

All he has to do is raise a prodding eyebrow.

“Jack wasn’t supposed to hit him that hard,” you say, not much of an explanation. You must be able to tell, cringing before starting over. “We were trying to make a TikTok since my last one kinda blew up, and it was that scene from The Office, where Michael hits Meredith.

“Except Jack gots a heavy foot and he didn’t give Luke enough time to jump on the hood so he just kinda hit him and I guess someone saw and called 9-1-1 and then Mercer ran away-“

“So Dawson was a part of this too?”

You shrink in on yourself, frowning apologetically. “He was filming Luke outside the car, and then we heard sirens and he just took off back to the loft.”

Nico sighs, running a hand down his face and you tilt your head, eyes big and beautiful, and everything about you so pretty and sweet. He wonders how they managed to put you in a cell without feeling guilty.

“‘Three of my boys and my wife’,” he repeats the officer’s words, trying not to smile when you blush. “What a sentence to hear from a police station.”

Bashful, you flutter your eyelashes at him again. “I thought maybe they’d let us go if I said I was a Hischier.”

That damned smile breaks through, dimpling at his cheeks and crinkling by his eyes. “You are a Hischier,” he murmurs, “just be careful who you’re running over under that name, yeah?”

You smile back, so proud and happy looking that it makes his chest ache and he has to remind himself that he’s here because you in all your sweet innocence, ran over one of the boys.

A sharp shrill rings out in the cold and sterile room, the signature apple ringtone coming from your lap, and you dig your phone out, laughter glinting in your eyes as you answer.

“Hello,” you answer, introducing yourself and Nico watches you, curiously. “What a coincidence, I’m already here!”

Nico chuckles in realization. He was your emergency contact, and he can already picture you heading in here with his name on your tongue, demanding they call him or they’ll be sorry.

And by the look on your face, you’re the emergency contact of the other three idiots here. At least Mercer was smart enough to pump his legs if he’s going to be stupid. Although Nico would prefer that he doesn’t ditch you again in a crisis, especially because it’s his job to protect you.

You hang up, giggling. “Time to bail out my boys,” you cheer. “At least Luke. Poor baby needs to get some ice on his butt.”

“And his face,” Nico snorts. “I get to see that video right?”

“Oh yeah. I’m already asking for the security cam footage in the parking lot too.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

How would König react if wifey asked to stack doughnuts on it or wrap a fruit roll up around it?

Terrified! Confused! Mad! ...lightly intrigued. All things considered, he likes your fascination with his cock. Makes him feel cool and manly, with a dick that can impress his precious little girlfriend so much - honestly, he was kinda okay with you being obsessed with it, at first. This is what you're supposed to do as a girlfriend, right?? Then you bought him a pack of doughnuts and he is totally fine, he wouldn't say no to a sugary treat after the training, or maybe even a bit of food play during sex...and he guesses you got him a bit too deliberate, because now you're begging him to let you stuck this whole box on his cock. First of all, he tells you with disbelief in his tone - it wouldn't even fit! He is a thick man with a thick cock, and you'd have to manually make the donut hole bigger so it could fit. Second, he just doesn't understand why you would want to waste perfectly good food on something so silly! He knew you were his weird pretty girl, he loves you for it - but the feeling of sugary roll up around the sensitive veins of his cock...no, thanks. Besides, he is almost terrified at the thought of you wanting to take a bite out of treat and then chomping on his cock instead. You might sell him this idea, however...much later, of course, if he is drunk enough and wants to cheer you up. Maybe you were really sad about something, maybe you just had a bad day - but he would carefully enlarge the holes in pack of big bagels he bought, just so you could try to stuck at least a few...he is willing to bear the uncomfortableness if it means his precious girlfriend is getting the best laugh of her life!! And especially if you're going to clean his dick after...

[marasmadness]

CW: smut, dom!JJ x sub!reader, dirty talk, pet names, shower sex , overstim, lmk if I forget anything !

With dramatic heaving breaths, you set down your water and lowered yourself back down to the bench. Your girlfriend chuckled at your stare, tapping up by the headrest. During your workout, small strands of hair had come loose, sticking to your forehead. JJ, on the other hand, always looked annoyingly beautiful when you went to the gym with her. Her blond hair perfectly slicked back into a ponytail, a form-fitting matching set that showed off her muscular arms, and only a thin, glimmering layer of sweat coated her skin no matter how much time or effort she spent here. “Come on, just five more,” she instructed while tapping her nails on the bar resting above your head.

“I know for a fact that you didn’t push Spencer this hard when you trained with him,” you protested while already finding your grip on the weight above you.

JJ squatted down to whisper in your ear, playing it off as double-checking the weight plates on either side of you. “Mhm, but I didn’t take Spencer back home to our apartment and fuck his brains out after each session, and I don’t think you can say the same doll.”

Luckily, your flushed face didn’t stand out in the crowd among you. JJ stood up with a stoic expression, as if nothing had been said. “Now five more.”

You listened, taking a deep breath before starting the set. You were acutely aware of JJ’s body right behind your head as she spotted the bar hovering above your chest. She was slightly tilted toward you, displaying her exposed abs with every rise and fall of her breath. You got to the third of five and seriously started questioning if it was possible to trick an expert profiler into changing her ways and adapting to sleeping on Sundays and maybe even breakfast in bed. A light stroll down the block for coffee maybe? The thought was tempting. You reset the bar, dropping your arms to your side with theatrics only reserved for your sassy girlfriend. “Alright, I give up.”

You were honestly slightly shocked at how little JJ pushed you to finish. She only responded with a playful hmph before she followed you out to the car and climbed into the driver's seat, planning to take the two of you back to your shared apartment. She hummed along softly to the radio and rested her hand posessively on your thigh without any other acknowledgment.

Dropping your bags off in the entryway, you both routinely headed your separate ways. JJ dug through the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for two. She always did breakfast, you did lunch, and you split the task of dinner on nights you ate in. You always showered first, being the one to use up less hot water before coming out to join her to eat before she retreated for her own shower.

Turning on the stream of hot water, the previously cold bathroom instantly steamed up, causing a quick removal of your skin tight clothes. Looking into the mirror to detangle your hair, you were startled when a blonde head of hair appeared behind you. You turned around to find JJ swaying in before snaking her hands around your waist.”I thought you were making breakfast.” You asked casually. Knowing she was a woman of habit. JJ reluctantly dragged her hands off your skin, only to start removing her only clothing a mere few inches from where you stood awestruck on the bathroom tile. “The bagels will survive," she teased, tilting her head with a direct stare as she let her bra fall to the ground. “I figured I’d join you.”

She dragged her hands across your bare skin with a taunting slowness before letting them drop to her side and slipping under the showerhead with a tilted, teasing grin. You followed her in under a trance.

Her golden hair darkened a shade as she tipped her head back under the water, exposing the flexed curve of her neck.When you shuffled in around her, she latched her hand onto your hips, ?"her slick fingers firmly pressing pink marks on your skin. Her lips found a spot just below your ear following the stroke of your jawline. Sucking gently at your skin, her mouth followed the water droplets sloping down your breasts until she reached your stomach.

Water droplets clung to her eyelashes, leaving a thin, smudged ring of mascara around her eyes as she looked up at you, simultaneously getting on her knees without breaking eye contact. “What made you so needy all the sudden?”

She only pursed her lips at your slight teasing. Her only reaction was the tightening of her grip as she traced circles along your hip bones with her thumbs. Lifting her fingers to her mouth, she dragged two fingers down her tongue. Without warning, she pressed them harshly to your clit causing your body to curl up towards JJ’s with a shocked gasp.

Her silent, nonchalant act broke only moments before she lowered her mouth to your cunt. You felt her lips curl into a smirk against your slit, her soft, warm exhale making you shiver slightly. Slipping her tongue inside you, she dragged her fingernails down your thighs, leaving angry little red lines.

Her tongue languidly circled your clit with ease that contrasted her lust-filled stare and desperate touch. Quickly unable to focus on staying balanced on the slick shower floor, your hands gravitated to the crook of JJ’s shoulders.

As her mouth expertly delved into your cunt, her hands groped at the flesh of your ass in an attempt to pull you in closer. Her tongue swiping along your g-spot with every tug. Without coming up for a breath, she tapped your thigh, guiding your leg cautiously over her shoulder. JJ reveled in being able to feel your thighs shake against her body as she dragged you to the edge of an orgasm. She pressed her tongue flat against your clit as you came. Tilting her head back, she smeared your slick from her chin with a grin, staring up at you as she sucked her fingers clean.

As feeling sank back down through your body, you looked down at the sensation of JJ’s hair lightly brushing against your lower stomach. She was suddenly back between your legs with the same vigor. A slew of incoherent curses and mumbling spilled from your lips as she brushed against your already sensitive pussy. The second her lips wrapped around your clit, you already felt close and still worked up from your last orgasm. You bit down on your lip as a painful pleasure washed over you, almost too overstimulated to think straight. JJ was talentedly and dangerously quick with it too, having you with your head dropped back against the wall with a guttural moan within a few minutes.Eating you out with the passion of a decade-long starved woman, she nudged you to a second climax, her nose brushing against your clit as you did.

As the post-haze of your second orgasm walked over you, the water streaming over your heads turned cold, and you shakily moved to step out onto the rug with the help of JJ’s extended hand. Your girlfriend rang her hair out and loosely wrapped a towel around her body before stepping off the bathroom tiles into the entryway of your bedroom. She turned around to look at you expectantly and only smiled while running her tongue across her lip at your confused expression.

She reached out for you warmly and gently, a mere distraction, you realized, as you ended up pinned against the door frame under the weight of her strength. “I believe we agreed on 5 more at the gym earlier, hm? Looks like you’re making it up to me here, so I believe that's... three more orgasms you owe me?”

“Fuck,” JJ tilted her head into yours with a devilish grin as your seeming meaningless conversation about reps this morning flashed through your mind.

Twisting her three held-up fingers toward you, she curled them down toward her palm teasingly before clumsily dragging you by the waist toward the mattress with a laugh.

[theblue6ook]

A Quiet Day

Summary: Bruce does not like celebrating his birthday. All of the pomp and circumstance was very “Bruce Wayne Bachelor,” but it wasn’t him. He wants quiet, he wants easy, he wants focus. So Y/N gives him that.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: I tried to add everyone who wanted to be on the tag list, but let me know if I missed you! [B (24) & Y/N (22)]

“Happy Birthday, Master Bruce,” he heard Alfred over the speaker system. 

Bruce couldn’t help but gaze at the digital clock built into his car console. Well, maybe a tank console? Lucious Fox said it was called the Tumbler, but the name just didn’t feel right to him. It was a birthday present he had told Bruce, and Bruce would call it what he liked... when he thought of a name. He was patrolling, as he does, except this time, he would take his new Waynetech Tank out for a spin. Nope, that name feels wrong too.

“Thank you, Alfred.” 

“Anything special planned this year, sir.”

“You know there’s not,” he chuckled.

“I wasn’t sure if you were getting bold with birthdays,” he could feel Alfred's grin, “considering what an extravagant time Ms. Y/N had.” 

“Just doing something nice for a friend, Alfred.”

Friend. That was nice to say. It’s easy to make friends when you’re a twenty-three - well, now a twenty-four-year-old billionaire. Bruce had never been low on friendships, but he had been low on real friendships. Of course, he had good friends. Rachel, Alfred, Lucius, and Jack Drake, to name a few, but that was all before The Bat. After he had left Gotham, he’d been through a lot. He’d been alone a lot. None of them would ever understand what he went through, who he was now. When he had trained, you’d be "assigned" friends. People you had to work with, save. He had met people who would and had died for him. How can you come back to trivial friendships after that?

And when you don’t water something, it dies. So, friendships slowly crumbled. Shriveled away. It wasn’t in a huge, dramatic way, but in a lost touch way. People didn’t want to deal with the Bruce Wayne he really was, a workaholic, stressed, easily annoyed, quick, and yet she didn’t care.

Y/N had come along, and he was used to the petty fights, people making up their minds, even leaving. They'd slowly given up on him. But she didn’t. They could fight all day long, and by the end, he’d be frustrated, grabbing his coat and announcing it was the end of the day for him. She’d look up at him and say, "See you tomorrow."

Once, he had questioned her about it, half joking and half not, “You’re not going to walk out and never come back?” 

She had looked at him strangely and scoffed, “Bruce, it’s fine if we argue and argue and move on. That’s friendship. That’s life.”

“That’s life?” he had asked sarcastically.

“Yeah. Now get over it and get out,” she had smirked at him.

So, they fight, and they move on, and they fight, and they move on, and Bruce doesn’t mind at all. At the end of the day, he knows he’ll see her the next, and then he does. It’s consistent, and god knows he could use some consistency. 

“A good friend gives back,” Alfred stated. “Maybe she’ll plan you a party.”

God, he hopes not.

-

Y/N had been conspiring. Bruce had made her birthday like nothing she had ever imagined, and even if her ex-finance had soiled the evening, she was grateful. So she wanted to do something special for him, except… he didn’t really seem like he wanted to do anything. Everyone in the office was talking about The Bruce Wayne’s birthday except for Bruce Wayne himself. 

Y/N knew she never typically saw his party side, aside from him hopping into the fountain at The Ocelot. The Bruce she knew was more reserved, quiet, and calculated. Plus, when it came to the topic of his birthday, it’s like he shut the complete conversation down. So, how do you plan something for the one person who wants nothing?

You don’t.

At least you don’t plan a party; you make the day itself special. Bruce hated meetings, so she moved them. He loved the bagel place she showed him down by Dorthie’s Flowers, so she scheduled a nice lunch. The last time she was in Dorthie’s, John had told her that violets were Bruce’s birth flower, so she put some in the office. Finally, for the last hour of their workday, she had a cake, nothing special, she had made it with Carrie last night, and a few birthday cards. 

She was nervous as hell. Giving something to the man who can afford everything is more nerve-wracking than she thought it would be. 

Bruce had arrived at his typical noon timeline. He stepped into the office with caution, just praying what had happened in the past years wouldn’t happen today. When he did occasionally come into the office years ago, past assistants and coworkers would plan some Bruce Wayne Birthday Happy Hour where everyone would get plastered, and he would sneak off annoyed. He knew Y/N knew him better than that. Or at least he hoped she did.

When he stepped into the office, there were no decorations, no music, and no surprises so far. He let out a breath. There was Y/N battling it out on the phone like she usually is. She waved at him and mouthed to him I can’t do phone calls anymore, rolling her eyes. He chuckled, stepping into his office.

Violets.

It wasn’t abnormal for Y/N to grab flowers for the office. She was dear friends with his florist, but violets made him think of his mother. Every birthday, his mother would go through the grueling tale of his birth just to tease him. 

“Thomas, you don’t get to laugh. You were no help!” she squealed. “Anyways, my dear Brucie. I was in the worst pain of my life bringing you into this world. All I wanted was my ice chips when our doctor started going on about birth flowers to distract me.”

“It annoyed her to no end-”

“Stop interrupting me, Thomas,” she had giggled, and Bruce had done the same. “Anyways, I was trying to bring you into this world, and he tells me, ‘ma’am it sounds like your son’s birth flower will be a violet. I never cared for violets.’ And I thought, what a terrible thing to say to a mother. So I kicked him out, and the nurse and I worked hard for you.” 

“She’s not joking, son.”

“But now, every birthday I just have to douse the house in violets for my sweet Brucie.”

 Bruce stepped closer, touching the edge of the petals with his fingertips. It had been a while since he’d been given any flowers... but violets, he was sure he had only gotten them from Mama.

There was a light cough behind him, and he turned to see a bashful Y/N. “So, no meetings today, but we have some paperwork to go through.”

“No meetings?” he questioned. That would be a first.

“Yeah, this donator work really should take priority,” she tried to act casually. “Oh, and I was going to run to Upper East Bagel later if you want to come.”

“We’re not getting delivery?”

“Well, it’s nice outside,” she started innocently. Bad lie, she thought. It’s February. It’s never nice. “I figured I’d walk, but if you want me to go by myself I can grab something for you.”

Bruce scoffed, “You’re not walking by yourself in Gotham.”

She grinned. Bait taken. 

For the few hours before lunch, they worked on paperwork. The donator paperwork did take up a chunk of time. There were so many details like which benefits he needed to attend, which non-profits were approved for the Wayne Charity donation program, etc. He was whipped, and even worse, he was hungry. Stepping toward the door, he leaned on the frame. Y/N was digging through one of her bags, and he cleared his throat.

“Bageles?”

She grinned, “I’m literally starving.”

Y/N was excited, not just for the bagel, but because as soon as they walked down to get their lunch, Alfred was going to come and help her set up Bruce’s office. Again, nothing crazy, a cake, cards, and maybe a balloon. It was nothing that should take long. She even had everything in a tote bag under her desk. 

The bagel line wasn’t long, and they didn’t have any issues other than a few people recognizing Bruce and wishing him a happy birthday. When they did, he’d look at her curiously. While Y/N had no reaction, Bruce was suspicious. So, she knows it’s my birthday, and she hasn’t said anything. Not that Bruce cared about things like that, but Y/N wasn’t the type to forget or be silent on the subject. She had only glanced at him innocently, batting her lashes, “Should we eat lunch in the park?

Bruce humored her, so they sat in Gotham Park and ate their lunch. While the bagel was great, it was fucking freezing outside. Y/N looked over at Bruce, pleasantly eating his bagel. It didn't look like the cold had bothered him at all. Despite not being cold, the whole ordeal had Bruce's mind moving. God, please no office parties when we get back. 

He was on edge stepping back into the office, waiting for some insane ordeal… but nothing. They took the elevator straight up to his office, and walked in by Y/N’s desk and… nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she forgot and didn’t want to say anything. Y/N walked casually over to her desk and set her purse down while Bruce put the code into his office door and stepped inside. There was a balloon attached to his desk chair, a cake that was clearly not from a bakery, and cards. 

He chuckled, looking through them. One from Rachel and Harvey Dent, one from Alfred, one from Lucious, one from Jack Drake (who he hadn’t spoken to in so long), and one from Y/N. Except it wasn’t just from Y/N; her brothers had signed it with little notes and doodles, and Carrie had signed a nice message as well. 

It was so simple, so homely, and wonderful.

“Happy Birthday,” Y/N appeared behind him with a couple of paper dessert plates.

He looked at her but said nothing. In the best way, he didn’t know what to say, and suddenly she became nervous.

“I know it’s not much, and you probably have friends planning something crazy, but,” she paused, unsure of herself, “it’s just… you didn’t really seem like you wanted a party.” 

Bruce chuckled quietly. “I don’t,” he said honestly. “I’ve had friends plan a few insane things over the years, and I’m grateful, but I never really felt like celebrating my birthday without-” He stopped, a little embarrassed. “I sound like a child.”

“You don’t,” she stepped over to him, bumping his shoulder with her own.

“Yeah, I do,” he mumbled.

“After my mother left, I tried to make birthdays special for my brothers, but my dad didn’t really celebrate, and neither did I,” she wasn’t sure why she was whispering. Maybe it was the close proximity between them, or maybe it was because she had never admitted what she was about to say aloud. “John, Carrie, even Russ, they all tried to make things special for me, but… I didn’t want to celebrate. I’d always leave early or fake a headache.”

“I didn’t know your mom left,” he replied back.

“I don’t really talk about it. It’s not like it’s a secret, but I don’t know. It feels so awkward to mention.”

“It’s awkward to mention your dead parents too,” he looked over at her, grinning. 

“At least you know they loved you,” she cringed like she regretted what she said. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

“I get it,” he said honestly.

“So, cake,” she quickly diverted the topic.

Bruce smiled. A real true smile, “Cake.”

@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky @maxinehufflepuffprincess @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @mariadvorak @100520s @st0rmyt

[anderscim]

well, now that the first (and second, but i wrote this before seeing the second) episode of chapter 2 part 2 is out, there is one major thing i should address:

✦ what the fuck, david?

// spoilers for DRDT up to ch2 ep12 + implied tally5 spoilers

is there much else i can say here, honestly?

as you can probably tell already, this is more of a reaction post than anything.

i'm simply just... kinda surprised by some of David's actions here. especially regarding his view with Xander. saying that he’ll “do anything to follow in Xander’s footsteps” (paraphrased) even if it means stooping down to the lowest of lows for it, insisting that Xander was a good person, even claiming that his attempt to kill Teruko (and the rest of the class) might’ve been justified… it's almost as if more than anything, David holds Xander to what's nearly a position of worship. i knew from the start that David idolized Xander to some extent, but i never expected it being this… intense. it’s kinda as if he doesn’t see Xander as human, you know?

but do you know what finally makes sense now as a result of David’s behavior?

…

that’s right. tally fucking 5.

or more specifically, the text under the image. i won’t show it to you guys, but most should hopefully know what i’m talking about. (*･ω･)ﾉ (if you don’t, feel free to send me a DM and i can help you there!)

//spoilers for tally5

• • •

firstly: it’s (as far as this episode goes) very true that David idolizes Xander to all ends—and seems to have a vague idea about his goal in ending the killing game (or at least, killing Teruko). and that because of this, David himself took action to follow that goal, even if it meant looking like a “villain” to the rest of the cast. (the reason he told Teruko after that was definitely made up on the spot, but his sentiments about Xander when he was starting to explain why he acted the way he did were—as far as i’m aware—quite genuine).

secondly: he couldn’t understand what Xander’s true plans were, or the exact reason behind his attempt to kill Teruko, but he holds Xander to such a morally correct standard that he… pretty much concluded that he must’ve had a justifiable reason behind it. (and so far, we know that Xander had a reason at the very least. it’s unknown if it was justifiable, but it definitely is a reason.)

thirdly: well, i think this is self-explanatory.

pay attention to how David says “it’s an action that you have to take.” almost as if it was an obligation for him, and that he couldn’t have done anything else.

fourth…ly? this is just something very clearly implied within the LGI MV—the drosophila, the albino mouse, and other elements used show that David more or less sees himself as a “model organism” and not exactly as a true human in its actual meaning. his pessimistic and cynical view of the world (as we saw from ep11—even if he did exaggerate it a bit in his theatre-kid heel-turn, i think he still believes it to be true) adds to this even more—if even humans can’t change, David definitely wouldn’t be capable of ever becoming human in the first place.

5. that’s why footnote 13 is associated with correctness. because no matter what happened, David will believe that Xander was a good person. he will continue to believe that what Xander did was right. and it will take him a while, if it even happens, for him to view Xander as an actual fellow human being, not as a idol of morality who was always correct.

———

obviously, this is more of a reaction that i just casually wrote at 3am, so not everything is really polished. also, who knew i’d talk about the LGI MV again? or tally5? wow, i’m really getting some nostalgia here.

i don’t even know if i fully agree with some parts in here. (-_-) but hopefully, this helps get my point across.

as always, take this with a grain of salt.

[anderscim]

hey, 1moreff-creator! do you have a nickname /lh

no problem at all, i’m always here to help! and yeah… both of us have already gone (literature girl) insane from this MV, so we’re in the same boat (_ _;)

i put your (paraphrased) questions in purple, for the sake of readability.

#1: what is that extra text in the tunnel scene?

the additional text is actually just the word “惨状” (“sanjou”), the exact pronunciation, and other ways it can be read. if you look at online dictionaries of the word, a similar format shows up:

it’s strange, though—the lyric itself doesn’t seem to be a direct reference to the opening of “Snow Country,” (the original japanese text doesn’t seem very similar), but many people on both the original japanese song and the english translation believe it’s a direct reference. maybe the artist made a statement on it, but for now, i’m not sure. i do understand your concern with this one, but honestly i don’t see it making a huge difference with re-contextualization—especially since the “reference” is commonly agreed on within the community, even if it isn’t explicitly shown there.  also—there’s actually no way to distinguish “if we” vs “if you,” since that’s not included in the phrase. so whether this says “we” or “you” is entirely up to the translator and the interpretation. though, the line succeeding it is “逃げましょう” which is often translated to “let’s escape,” so based on context “we” might actually be the more fitting word here. take that how you will.

#2A - background noises in the “bibliography scene”—are there any hidden lyrics?

2:31- so—this is actually coherent japanese, but it’s just looped like a broken record. (this is also specific to yoppei’s cover only.) 

the first part is just “watashi wa” (私は—“i am”) looped multiple times, which suddenly changes to “inu desu” (犬です).  these are actually two parts of the same sentence, and when combined it’s “私は犬です” (watashi wa inu desu), which translates to “i am a dog.” 

which—wait, is that why this happens?

well… that’s new. i didn’t notice that. i guess there was more to that part other than monotvid propaganda.

(the actual word they use in this part is “watashi” instead of “wagahai” like the literary reference, but regardless.)

#2B - what did yoppei replace the “1, 2, 3, 4” from the original vocaloid lyrics with?

i had to look at the niconico douga for yoppei’s original video when it came to this one, since i initially didn’t know what it said either—but now, looking at the comments and listening back to it, i think it’s just “カモーン！ピアノ!” (come on, piano!), so honestly i think that’s just yoppei being chaotic as always.  plus, unlike the original song the yoppei cover has a piano instrumental after that segment, which is probably why he said this.

hopefully, there shouldn’t be any important implications to this part?

#2C - “Rise up people!! It's the day to say goodbye to the fools!!” is what the lyrics write, but is it different?

quick note, yoppei’s cover is just him humming along to the tune, doesn’t seem like he’s saying anything coherent here.

and yeah, i noticed that part with the lyrics—but, i’ve never actually heard that lyric, no matter how many times i listen to it. it’s been eating away at my head for days. true, the lyrics are written as “Rise up people!! It's the day to say goodbye to the fools!!” on the wiki—however, it sounds nothing like that in the original song.

in fact, i actually can’t tell exactly what it says (_ _) but part of it sounds like “狂い出せ” (kurui dase)—which means “start going crazy/insane,” so either way it sounds completely different than what’s written on the wiki. which is. weird. i’m not even going insane over the david mv, i’m going insane over the original song. help me.

not really sure how to take this one—sorry i don’t have much to say for this. (￣ ￣)

#3 - what does that background say?

that background is—um. likely going to be a hassle to translate word-for-word, but the least i can say is that it’s a credits screen. it credits the following:

the creator of the song

the thumbnail/video artist

the editor

the publisher(?)

the printing agency(??)

the binding (as in books) (???)

the paper company (????)

and… charan & poran publishing (??????)

(also, remove the ampersand from charan & poran, and you get “チャランポラン,” which is actually an (uncommon) japanese phrase for “sloppy/irresponsible.”)

also, not sure if you saw the description for the english translation video, but it should say “volume three,” not two. (also their description is very helpful with references, a lot of the clues i got came from there ^^)

this was, um, very interesting. i guess the song devolved into a novel or something /j

okay, i think that’s all i have for now. reach out to me if you need anything else!

-🥯

Progress Report on the David MV video I’m working on: 1 week in

(Or basically me rambling for a while to get part of my downward spiral into insanity out in the world. You can ignore this if you want)

I’m not planning to do these weekly or anything, and if it gets annoying, I’ll stop. But I feel like sharing some stuff considering I don’t have a lot of time to make posts on anything else :v

So, good news, I’ve already fully edited (minus background technically, but that takes two seconds to add) over 33 minutes of the video. The worrying news? In the 33rd minute, I am only starting to talk about the first “chorus”. That’s… Fellow Tumblr users, that’s only a minute into the MV. The MV is four minutes long. If the trend continues, the video might actually end up being two hours long. And what’s worse is that the first minute of the MV is relatively simple, since there’s no footnotes or numerals, nor any of the wilder theories that come later. The longest section there is talking for ten minutes about the “tunnel scene”, which is literally just me interpreting lyrics and background text. Admittedly, it’s one of the more complex parts of the song, but still.

Why would the video be so obnoxiously long, you ask? I did say in my original post about it that it likely wouldn’t contain much new information. Well, the truth is.. I was a fool. Most of my analyses before had been about insular parts of the MV, like the numerals and footnotes and stuff like that, but I had never bothered to do a complete analysis of the lyrics and the background text, which is taking a lot of time. The closest I’d seen of something like that is weightedblankettt’s analysis from back when the MV first came out, but as amazing as that post is (and as much as I am taking from it), it didn’t cover a lot of the things I’ll talk about. LGI is already really complicated, and then you have to add all the other text in the damn background and I-

Goodness gracious. One like equals one footnote 6 ([Prayer]).

One thing that particularly struck me is just how prevalent Language Theory actually is. Like, anderscim’s original post only covers a few examples, so I figured it wouldn’t extend much beyond that, but seriously, like every other line is intentionally mistranslated. There’s on point where the lyrics are so screwed I straight up have to explain what the original LGI says, then translate that into the David MV’s changed lyrics, otherwise it’s just nonsensical. Geez.

In other, possibly worse news, I may be giving myself Stockholm Syndrome, and now David is my third favorite character. That wasn’t- This wasn’t how this was meant to go. I considered him sorta mid, now he’s the most fantastic character ever written apparently. I dread the day I start liking him more than Veronika, and I hope it never comes. And I don’t even want to conceive the possibility of me liking him more than Min, but I’m worrying it’s not fully farfetched. I am undergoing negative character development.

I blame him for getting such a banger song tbh. The more I look into it, the more I appreciate just how good LGI is. Like, wow, it really is an incredible song. If only it was on Spotify, I would put it in my playlist after being done with the video.

I also have gotten irrationally attached to the titular Girl of Literature Girl Insane. I may give her a name, since she doesn’t have one. I… may have a problem, but that’s not exactly news.

But anyways. Just as anecdotes, here’s a few of the deranged things which have gone through my mind while writing the script. I hope they’re somewhat amusing without context, because for me they simply represent suffering.

+Okay, so we’ve made the link between David and Bowser from hit video game series “Mario”, how much lower can we go?

+The MV says “it will”, but both anderscim’s post and the Vocaloid wiki say it’s “it has”, but the video I’m also referencing for translation says “it will” as well, and the credits of the MV list the video’s uploader, but the Vocaloid wiki’s translation was made by the same uploader-

+How many interpretations am I on for the “ideal country”? Like, five, six?

+I can’t believe David would say that to the square oOo

+Okay, so if Diana is the lemon- <- Theory crafting, probably won’t be in the video.

+Why does every fucking number represent “change” or “new beginnings”?! Get some new fucking material, people!

+What the hell does this quote mean? David doesn’t have enough of a purpose in life for it to work here.

+why am i looking at a tumblr rp blog.

…

might read through it later-

+Oh, so now it’s “we”! Every other time you’ve said “you”, David! What is your deal?!

Anyways, sorry for not posting anything of substance and then rambling, but wanted to scream into the void for a while. Thanks for reading, and take care!

[threewaywithdelusion]

You Me Her

Since AO3 is down and I'm sure people are losing their minds looking for fics (I am people), I'm posting some of my fics over here. If you look in the tag "Mia writes fanfic" you can see all the fic I've posted on tumblr. If you prefer to read on AO3 now that it’s back up, you can find this fic here

Robin was the first person to notice something was wrong with Steve Harrington. 

By the end of the day, everyone had noticed. People were whispering up and down the halls, wondering what had happened to Steve since yesterday to make him act so drastically different. He hadn’t flirted with a single girl all day. He’d told Tommy Hagan to “knock it off” when Tommy had started tormenting a freshman. He’d treated his friends weirdly – avoiding Jason Carver, a sophomore on the basketball team who he’d been training, losing patience with Carol Perkins’s snappish remarks, freezing up when some cheerleaders talked to him. 

Robin heard all of this second-hand. King Steve was so notorious that even the band kids were gossiping about his personality transplant. Multiple people came up to Robin to share some tidbit of gossip that they insisted proved that Steve had been body-snatched. 

But Robin didn’t need rumors to know that Steve Harrington was different. She’d known since first period, when he’d walked into Ms. Click’s class on time and without a bagel. Steve had barely glanced at Tammy, even as she’d looked at him from under her lashes, beautiful and enticing. Instead, Steve had, for the first time in his entire life, looked at Robin. 

And he’d smiled at her. Not a polite acknowledgement of her existence – which still would have been more than Robin had ever gotten from him – but a huge, friendly smile. The kind that would have had most girls falling at his feet. 

Robin glanced behind her to see if Steve was smiling at someone else, but unless Steve was smiling like that at Fred Benson – even more unlikely – he was definitely directing that expression at her. 

Robin spun back to Steve, unsure what her face was communicating. Confusion, maybe, or wide-eyed shock. 

Steve didn’t look offended or surprised by her reaction, just gave her a dorky little wave and sat down. 

Robin stared at the back of his head, still trying to process what had just happened. Tammy turned to Robin, scanning her up and down. Robin knew she was just trying to figure out what about Robin had caught King Steve’s interest, but her scrutiny made Robin feel all hot anyway. It was Tammy, looking at Robin intently. With purpose. Taking in Robin’s stupid perm and her smudgy makeup and her layers of jewelry. 

Robin blushed. 

Tammy turned back around. 

Ms. Click began talking, but Robin didn’t hear a single word for the rest of class, lost in thought. She alternated between loud mental screaming about the fact that Tammy had looked at her and staring at Steve Harrington’s famous hair and wondering what the hell had inspired him to notice her existence. 

Robin was packing in a daze at the end of class when Steve gave her another smile before leaving. Robin accidentally met Tammy’s eyes, which were just as confused as Robin felt. 

Tammy bit her lip, which was pink and soft-looking. “Robin? Did you talk to Steve over the weekend?”

Oh my god. Tammy was talking to her. It wasn’t like Tammy never talked to her, but every single time it made Robin lose her mind and babble like a freak. 

Robin just shook her head instead of risking opening her mouth. 

“Oh,” Tammy said, looking disappointed. “But you like him?”

“No,” Robin said honestly. “I don’t even know him.”

“But you like him,” Tammy said, and this time it wasn’t a question. “I saw you blushing after he smiled at you.”

“I guess so,” Robin said. What else was she supposed to say? She couldn’t tell Tammy that she didn’t give a damn if Steve Harrington looked at her and that the blush had been all for Tammy. That would send Tammy running the other way.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Tammy said. “A lot of girls like Steve.”

She didn’t mention that she was one of those girls, but she didn’t need to. Robin knew. 

Maybe it would be okay to pretend to like Steve. It would give her and Tammy something in common and it would help her hide in plain sight. Steve was the perfect fake crush for a lesbian, pretty and athletic enough to be an acceptable crush, but unattainable enough that she would never have to act on it. Robin had never faked a crush on him before because of the principle of the thing, but now that she’d accidentally already done it, she might as well keep up the pretense. 

“Today must have been a fluke,” Robin told Tammy, trying to sound both reassuring and lovelorn. She didn’t want Tammy to see her as a threat. She wanted her to see her as a friend. “I don’t think Steve even knows my name.”

***

But Steve kept smiling at her for the rest of the week and on Thursday, Tammy asked Robin if she wanted to hang out after school. 

“Really?” Robin asked. Then, “I mean, yeah, sure. Sounds fun.”

So Robin went to Tammy’s house with the rest of Tammy’s friends. Apparently they did this every Thursday — Friday and Saturday were date nights, which made Thursday the perfect girls’ night. 

They went up to Tammy’s room, which was like peeking into her mind. The other girls paid no attention to the room, probably having seen it a million times. They settled on the floor, spreading bowls of chips and chocolates around and pulling out magazines and nail polish. But Robin couldn’t help but try to take in every detail of the room. The walls were pink and the curtains and bedspread a gauzy white, giving everything a bit of a princess feel. But there were posters on the wall, and not the kind Robin had expected. There weren’t handsome movie stars — these were girls with guitars. 

“Who’s that?” Robin asked, pointing at a poster of a girl with long straight hair, standing over a microphone and holding a guitar. 

Tammy twisted to see who Robin was pointing to. “That’s Emmylou Harris. She’s incredible. She was one of the first women to really make it big in country music.”

“So you want to be like her?” Robin asked. 

Tammy blushed a little, playing with the end of her long blonde curls. “I mean, I don’t know if I’m as good as Emmylou Harris. But that’s the dream.”

“You’re really good,” Robin said sincerely. “I heard you singing Kiss On My List before class the other day and it was-“ captivating. life-changing. beautiful. “Really good,” Robin finished lamely. 

“Thank you,” Tammy said, looking touched. 

One of Tammy’s friends — Olivia? — rolled her eyes. “Tam, we didn’t invite Robin here to talk about your singing. We want to hear about Steve Harrington!”

The two other girls — Karen and Melissa — giggled and nodded their agreement. 

“What did you do to get his attention?” Olivia asked Robin. 

Robin tried not to obviously deflate. She wanted to talk to Tammy about her passions, see the way Tammy lit up when she smiled. She didn’t want to gossip about stupid boys, especially not Steve Harrington. 

But that was why they’d invited her over. Her fake crush on Steve was her in with these girls, with Tammy, and she had to make them believe her if she wanted to be invited to spend more time with him. 

“I don’t know,” Robin said honestly. “I’ve sat behind him all year and I didn’t think he knew I existed. And then all of a sudden on Monday — bam! — he’s acting like he knows me.”

Melissa hummed, passing around bottles of nail polish. “Maybe it’s your hair? Did you perm it recently? Cause Heather Holloway says Steve has a thing for girls with curly hair.”

Tammy frowned at her own hair and shook her head. “Robin’s hair has been like that all year.”

Tammy had watched Robin closely enough to notice what she did with her hair? Robin bit down on a smile, grabbing blue nail polish from Melissa. 

“Did you go to the party last weekend?” Karen asked. 

Robin shook her head. She’s actually spend last weekend reading a book, listening to her language tapes, and playing board games with her parents. Nothing that could be remotely considered cool. 

“Did you look particularly pretty on Monday?” Olivia asked. 

Robin shrugged. “I think I just looked how I always do.”

Tammy put on a Kris Kristofferson record then sat down beside Robin again. “I guess we’ll just have to watch what he does in class. Collect more information.”

“I guess so,” Robin said, hoping Steve forgot her existence soon for her own sake. She didn’t know what she would do if he actually asked her out. 

But maybe if he kept giving her attention she could keep this new friendship with Tammy, at least for a little while. 

Robin sighed, loud and long. 

“Don’t worry,” Tammy said, “We’ll figure it out.”

“And you don’t… mind?” Robin asked. “I know you like him too. I don’t want to break girl code or something.”

Robin had never worried about breaking girl code before, for obvious reasons, but she’d seen girls fall out over liking the same guy. 

Olivia snorted. “Please. Girl code doesn’t count when it comes to Steve Harrington. He’s slept with half the school.”

“Yeah, everyone knows he’s just a good time,” Karen added. “He doesn’t actually date girls for real.”

“I went out with him for two weeks in middle school,” Melissa said. “We made it to second base and then he dumped me for Erica Tanner.”

“You’re in good company here,” Olivia promised. 

Tammy still hadn’t spoken. Tammy was  focused on painting her nails bright pink, a color Robin would never choose for herself but that perfectly matched with Tammy’s pink cheeks and pink lips, which she was biting. 

Because Tammy cared, Robin realized. Steve might be the school slut, and he might never date a girl seriously, but Tammy liked him for real. 

Melissa, Olivia, and Karen were now arguing over whether Melissa’s two-week fling with Steve Harrington counted as a relationship. They seemed sufficiently distracted, so Robin dropped her voice low and leaned into Tammy’s space. 

“Do you mind?” she asked Tammy. “Because I can back off.”

“No,” Tammy said, smile pretty and entirely a lie. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Robin didn’t know what to do with that. Was Tammy trying to save face by not admitting she had a real crush on Steve Harrington? Was this her way of testing if Robin was worthy friend-material? How was Steve fucking Harrington Robin’s key to getting to know Tammy and also the one who was mostly likely to ruin this new friendship?

“Okay,” Robin said, staring at her nails so she wouldn’t have to figure out what facial expression was appropriate. She cleared her throat. “So you were telling me about Emmylou Harris?”

***

Steve Harrington came up to Robin at her locker on Friday, when she was getting the books she needed to take home for the weekend. 

“Hey,” he said, like it wasn’t supremely weird that he was approaching Robin Buckley, band geek and wallflower and no one who ever should have caught his eye. 

“Hi?” Robin answered. 

Steve ran his fingers through his hair. “Do you want to go to the diner with me? We could get milkshakes.”

Robin stared at him. Was this a joke? A prank? Had one of his friends dared him to ask out the weird band kid?

“What?” Robin asked. 

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. He looked nervous, which was crazy. He was Steve Harrington and she was just Robin Buckley. 

“I can drive us,” Steve said. “And I’ll pay.”

“I’m not going on a date with you,” Robin said. It was a gut reaction, but a second later Robin couldn’t help but wonder if she should have said yes. What was she going to tell Tammy about why she’d turned down her supposed crush?

But why was Steve Harrington even asking her out in the first place?

Steve didn’t look offended at her rejection, but he did hurry to say, “I know. I didn’t mean as a date.”

Robin looked down the hall. A group of cheerleaders at one end was watching them, giggling and tittering. Had the cheerleaders put him up to this? Girls could be vicious, but trying to embarrass a girl by having a boy ask her out seemed like a more guy type of prank somehow. 

“You want to hang out with me just as friends,” Robin said skeptically. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. 

Robin rolled her eyes. “Right. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“I mean it,” Steve said. “I want to be friends.”

He was lying. Robin didn’t know why, but he was lying. Maybe he thought that if she hung out with him as “friends” she would eventually change her mind and agree to date him. 

“Why?” Robin demanded. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

Steve opened his mouth, then paused. He thought for a few seconds before he said, “You seem cool.”

Robin snorted. “I’m the furthest thing from cool.”

“No, I know,” Steve said. “I mean you seem… interesting. Nice. Fun.”

“You don’t even know me,” Robin said. “We’ve never spoken, and now all of a sudden you’re interested in me? I don’t buy it.”

“It’s true,” Steve said. He jumped as a hand landed on his arm and then Carol Perkins was there, staring Robin down with disdain in her eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Carol asked. 

“I was asking Robin to milkshakes,” Steve said. 

Carol gave Robin an up-and-down and it didn’t feel good like when Tammy had done it. Carol wasn’t admiring her. She was looking at Robin like gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe. 

“Are you that bored of going out with pretty girls?” Carol asked, voice all fake-interested like it was a real question. 

Steve scowled, shaking Carol’s hand off his arm. “Robin’s pretty.”

Carol rolled her eyes. “She’s not terrible, I guess, under that bad perm, but she dresses like a dyke. If you want to rebel and date a freak or a charity case, you can do better.”

Robin flinched violently when Carol said the word dyke. She fought to keep her expression straight even as her heart raced and her lungs constricted. 

Did Carol Perkins know? Or had she blindly thrown out an insult, hoping it would hurt?

“Don’t call her that,” Steve snapped, his face dark and furious. He looked frightening enough that Robin skittered back half a step. 

Carol didn’t look scared of Steve, but her mouth did drop open in shock. 

That was fair. Robin was shocked too. 

Was Steve defending her?

Maybe this was what it meant to be a girl Steve Harrington liked. Maybe he didn’t like Carol calling Robin a dyke because that was an offense to his own masculinity. That was the only thing that made sense. Robin had heard Steve throw around gay slurs just last week, so it couldn’t be the word itself that he had a problem with.

“Seriously, Steve?” Carol asked, haughty and judgmental. “You can’t actually like her.”

“Robin is great,” Steve insisted. 

Carol rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll remind you of this when you come to your senses.”

With that, Carol spun on her heels – red hair smacking Steve in the face – and walked away.

Steve’s posture loosened, like he had also perceived Carol as a threat. 

“I’m sorry,” he told Robin, looking sincere and apologetic. 

Robin hated him. 

“Stay the fuck away from me” Robin told Steve. 

She slammed her locker and walked away, clutching her books to her chest to hide her shaking hands. She kept her head up as she walked by the cheerleaders, who laughed loudly as she passed. 

***

Steve kept smiling at her whenever he walked into Click’s class, but he didn’t try to ask her out again. 

He looked a bit like a kicked puppy every time she glared back at him, but Robin didn’t care. 

“What are you doing?” Tammy asked one day after class. “He’s going to give up on you if you keep glaring at him like that.”

“He asked me out as a joke,” Robin told Tammy. 

Tammy frowned. “Are you sure it was a joke? I don’t think he would do that.”

“I’m sure,” Robin said darkly, thinking of Carol hovering and the cheerleaders watching. Did Steve believe what Carol had said? Was that the joke: to put Robin in a position where she had to either go on a date with a man she didn’t like or else turn him down and confirm she was a lesbian? What kind of girl said no to a date with Steve Harrington?

Tammy bit her lip. She had on bright pink lipstick today. It would have looked tacky on anyone else, but it made Tammy look like a pop star. Robin wondered if the lipstick was flavored. She wished she could kiss Tammy and find out.

“You don’t mind if I flirt with him, right?” Tammy asked, echoing Robin’s words at her house last week. So far, Robin hadn’t been invited to girls’ night again. 

Yes, Robin thought. Yes, I mind. I mind so much, but not for the reason that you think. 

“Not at all,” Robin said. “It’s like you said, girl code doesn’t apply to Steve Harrington. Go for it.”

So Tammy kept trying to get Steve’s attention. He was nice to her. He never outright ignored her when she talked to him, but he never talked to her for longer than politeness required. He would always turn away, missing the way Tammy’s face fell. 

And he kept fucking smiling at Robin. Picking up her books when she dropped them. Apologizing to her when he got bagel crumbs on the floor, even though she’d never mentioned how much it annoyed her. Turning to catch her eye when someone said something funny, like he thought she was someone he could share inside jokes with. 

Slowly, Tammy stopped smiling at Robin. She started flicking annoyed glances in Robin’s direction whenever Steve gave Robin attention. Started snapping at Robin whenever Robin tried to sympathize with her about how much of a douchebag Steve Harrington was. Started avoiding Robin unless Robin directly started conversation with her. 

Steve Harrington was ruining everything.

***

“What are you doing?” Robin demanded. She’d chased Steve after Ms. Click’s class, following him to the little alley out by the gym. She was going to be late for math, but she didn’t care. She needed to talk to him before he ruined everything. 

Steve frowned as he lit up a cigarette. “What do you mean?”

“In Click’s class,” Robin said. “Tammy is practically throwing herself at you but you never even look her way. And I don’t talk to you at all, but you keep trying to talk to me.”

A flash of something crossed Steve’s face, but Robin didn’t know him well enough to read his expressions and it was gone in a heartbeat anyway. 

“You don’t want me to talk to you?” Steve asked.

“Yes!” Robin said. “No. I don’t know. Why won’t you flirt with Tammy?”

Steve’s face scrunched up. It was a face Robin had seen before when they were taking tests in class – it meant Steve had no idea what was going on. “You’re upset because I’m not flirting with Tammy Thompson?”

“I don’t get it!” Robin said. “She’s really nice and she’s a good singer and she’s really pretty. Objectively. I mean, she seems like the Steve Harrington type.”

“Right,” Steve said, his lips twitching like she had said something funny. 

“So I don’t get it,” Robin said. “She’s right there, and I don’t even try, but you keep looking. What’s so special about me?”

“Oh,” Steve said, like he had just realized something. “She’s jealous of you.”

Robin shuffled but didn’t say anything. Of course Tammy was jealous. Steve sat next to her every day, did he really not see it?

“And you don’t like that,” Steve continued, like he was figuring something out. Unfortunately, he was figuring out entirely the wrong thing. Robin wasn’t here to talk to Steve about her friendship with Tammy, she was here to find out why Steve didn’t like Tammy and why he seemed to like her. 

“It’s not about me,” Robin said. 

“Right,” Steve said, inhaling his stupid carcinogens. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Robin asked. She was pretty sure she was smarter than Steve Harrington, so she didn’t know why she was the one feeling lost in this conversation. 

Steve stubbed out his cigarette against the wall. “I’ll fix it.”

The late bell rang. Robin wanted to ask Steve what he’d understood from this conversation, but she really did need to go to math class. Arriving late wasn’t a good way to fly under the radar. 

“Okay,” she told Steve, not quite sure what she was agreeing to. 

He gave her another one of those big smiles as she left the alleyway. It made something churn in her gut. 

She wanted to be the kind of girl who got excited when Steve Harrington smiled at her like that. She wanted Tammy Thompson to smile at her like that. She wanted to fall in love with someone who loved her back, and she wanted to not get chased out of town by an angry mob with pitchforks for it. 

***

The next time Robin walked into Ms. Click’s class, Steve was flirting with Tammy. 

Robin had to stop in the middle of the aisle, feeling like she’d just been punched in the gut. 

Tammy was leaning into Steve’s space, twirling her blonde curls around one finger. Steve was smiling at her, arm stretched over the back of her chair, listening attentively as she spoke. 

Robin forced herself to walk mechanically to her desk. She took her notebook and pencil case out of her backpack and very carefully arranged everything on her desk, doing anything she could to prolong looking up. She didn’t want to watch this. 

After what felt like the longest few minutes of Robin’s life, Ms. Click began talking. Robin risked looking up and saw that Steve had pulled his arm back and Tammy was sitting in her own seat again. 

She couldn't stop seeing them wrapped up in each other. 

At the end of class, Steve walked out quickly, the way he always did. Robin wondered if he always went to smoke behind the gym and that was why he ran away so fast. 

Tammy whirled to Robin, squealing, her face lit up in a beautiful smile. 

“Robin! Did you see that!”

Tammy hadn’t started a conversation with Robin in two weeks. Robin managed a real smile in the face of Tammy’s happiness. 

“I did,” she said. 

“I think he likes me,” Tammy said, almost shy, playing with the bracelets on her wrist. 

“Yeah,” Robin said, ignoring the sinking feeling in her gut. “I think so too.”

***

The rumors at band practice told Robin that Steve was still flirting with other girls. He seemed particularly interested in Nancy Wheeler, who was a priss and a nerd but who was pretty and definitely his type. He seemed to be slowly wearing her down. 

It made Robin furious. So Steve Harrington had a crush on Nancy Wheeler, fine, that made sense. But if he really liked her, and the rumors said he was absolutely head-over-heels, then what was he doing playing with Tammy and Robin? What the fuck was he up to?

***

A week later, Steve didn’t run out of Click’s class at the first sound of the bell. Instead he turned to Tammy and Robin and said, “I’m having a party at my house tonight. You’re both invited.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tammy said, smiling like this was a game. It was. They all knew Tammy would be going to see Steve and she was just trying to play it cool. 

“Cool,” Steve said. He met Tammy’s eyes, then Robin's. “I’ll see you there.”

Tammy waited until he walked away, then did a little shimmy of excitement. It was kind of lame, but also hopelessly endearing. Robin liked when Tammy didn’t try to act cool around her. 

“You’re going?” Robin asked dully. 

“Of course I’m going!” Tammy said. “This is going to be so much fun! You’re coming, right?”

“Yeah,” Robin said, her mouth running before her brain could catch up with it. Tammy wanted her there. What else could she do? “I’ll be there.”

***

Robin got her dad to drop her off at the party. She was willing to bet she was the only teenager being dropped off by their dad, but her parents weren’t the type to be upset about her going out and they trusted her to drink responsibly. Plus, Robin couldn’t drive, so she didn’t know how else she was supposed to get there. 

By the time she arrived, the party was already in full swing. Music came from inside the house and a few people spilled out into the yard. 

Robin headed inside, dodging around a few couples making out against the hallway walls. Tammy was probably here already, right? Robin passed through the kitchen, filling a red solo cup with a tiny amount of vodka and a lot of coke. Jason Carver was there, flirting with Chrissy Cunningham, who was blushing at the attention. 

Robin slipped into the living room and that was where she found Tammy. She was standing against a wall, surrounded by Olivia, Melissa, and Karen. Tammy was holding a red solo cup and staring out at the other end of the living room. 

Robin followed her gave to Steve, who was talking to… Eddie Munson? Robin watched with her jaw slack until Steve came away with a grin and a joint between his fingers. 

That made sense, actually. Of course the only reason Steve Harrington would ever speak to Eddie Munson would be to buy drugs.

Robin went up to Tammy, hovering at the edge of the group as she said “hi.”

“Hey,” Tammy said, giving her a distracted smile. 

“I like your dress,” Robin said. She wanted to say that Tammy looked good, but that wasn’t a safe compliment. 

“Thanks,” Tammy said. “I got it in Indy.”

“It’s cute,” Robin said. It was — pink and ruffled at the edges and unlike anything anyone else was wearing. Something that screamed Tammy Thompson. 

The music went quiet for a moment, and Robin spun around, trying to figure out why. Carol Perkins was standing by the speakers. 

“Let’s play a game!” she said, blowing a bubble with her gum like the picture of teenage insouciance. “Truth or dare.”

She sat on the ground, Tommy Hagan and Steve Harrington sitting beside her. A few more jocks joined — Jason and Andy from the basketball team, Chrissy and Fiona from the cheerleading squad. Heather Holloway and Patrick and Brenda. 

“We have to join!” Tammy said. She grabbed Robin’s hand and dragged her over to the circle.

Robin complied in a daze. Tammy was holding her hand. Tammy’s hand was soft and warm and not sweaty at all and Robin could die happy, Tammy’s hand in hers. 

Tammy released her as soon as they got to the circle and Robin felt suddenly bereft, taking a seat mechanically beside her. Melissa, Karen, and Olivia sat on Tammy’s other side. 

Steve Harrington was looking in her direction, eyebrows up, and Robin scowled at him. Steve smiled, hands up like he was saying don’t shoot, and Carol noticed and shot Robin a glare. 

“Tommy,” Steve said. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Tommy said. 

Steve grinned. “I dare you to let Carol take a body shot off you.”

Tommy scrunched up his face. “Don’t you mean I should take a shot off her?”

Steve blinked, absolutely nothing behind his eyes. “What do you mean?”

So Tommy lay down and balanced a shot glass on his stomach, so low it was practically on his hips, and Carol grabbed it with her mouth, tipping her head back to drink. Robin didn’t like Carol at all, but she had to admit there was something attractive about it, about the long line of Carol’s throat as she drank the shot and the dainty, self-satisfied way she wiped her mouth afterward. 

From there, they kept going around the circle. 

Heather Holloway gave Andy a lap dance. Fiona admitted to having done mushrooms. Jason Carver was dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the circle, which made him turn to Chrissy Cunningham and say “A good girl like you deserves better than some drunken kiss during truth or dare. What do you say I take you out to dinner tomorrow and then give you a kiss on your front porch at the end of the night?”

Chrissy’s smile was disarmingly wide. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “That sounds nice.”

“It’s a date,” Jason said. A few of the boys hollered and whooped, patting Jason on the back and shaking him a little. Jason looked bashful, hiding a smile behind a sip of his drink. 

“Finally!” Carol Perkins said. She turned to Chrissy. “He’s been pining over you since last year and it took him this long to work up the guts to ask you out.”

Jason screeched at Carol, who ignored him and winked at a pleased-looking Chrissy. Robin was hit with the sudden realization that Carol Perkins could be nice, when she wanted to be. 

Melissa got dared to swap clothes with Patrick, Karen revealed she’d shoplifted a pair of earrings once, and Olivia admitted to having made out with a boy in the school janitor’s closet. 

Then it was Tammy’s turn. 

“Truth or dare?” 

“Dare,” Tammy said, something brave in her eyes. 

A few of the girls conferred together — Carol and Heather and Fiona — before turning to Tammy with smiles on their faces. “We dare you to shotgun with Steve.”

Tammy’s eyes went wide. Robin didn’t think Tammy was the type to smoke weed, but Tammy pressed a confident smile onto her face. Maybe she didn’t want to back down from a dare. Maybe she just wanted a chance to press her mouth against Steve Harrington’s. 

Steve looked at her from all the way across the circle — if he, Tommy, and Carol were the North Pole, Tammy and Robin were the South, the antipodal point — and raised the joint questioningly. 

“Okay,” Tammy said. 

Steve took a drag off the joint and crawled across the circle. Tammy met him in the middle and he was gentle as he used one hand to tip her chin up, pressing his lips against hers and exhaling. Robin could only really see the back of Tammy’s head, but she was hit by a burning jealousy at the way Steve so casually touched her. 

It felt like it had been years since Tammy had held her hand. 

Tammy sat back beside Robin, a pleased little smile on her face. 

“Band kid,” Carol said, smiling meanly. “Truth or dare.”

Robin shuffled uncomfortably. So far all the dares had involved some kind of sexual display with the opposite sex and Robin did not want to kiss a boy or give him a lap dance. But she also had a lot of secrets she didn’t really feel like sharing. 

She should pick truth, right? Worst come to worst, she could just lie. It’s not like any of these people would ever know — none of them really knew her. 

“Truth,” Robin said. 

Chrissy started to say something, but Carol spoke over her. “Who was your first kiss?”

Robin’s cheeks flamed. Carol was doing this on purpose. 

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet,” Robin said, trying to sound casual. It wasn’t that unusual, at least in the circles she ran with. 

But Carol reacted with extreme shock, her eyes going wide, her mouth dropping open. “Ever? That’s so sad!”

“Not really,” Robin said. Everyone was staring at her. She’d spent months trying to fly under the radar, and now they were all watching her and it was just as terrible as she’d thought it would be.

Carol kept going. “But why haven’t you kissed anyone? Aren’t there any boys you like?”

It would have been fine if Carol hadn’t paused a little, put more emphasis on the word boys. But Carol knew what she was doing, insinuating exactly what she had when she’d stood with Steve by Robin’s locker. 

Everyone in the circle was staring at Robin. Jason Carver looked disgusted. Tammy pulled back a bit from Robin’s side. 

Robin felt like she was going to throw up.

Then Steve Harrington scoffed. All eyes moved to him, to see what the King was going to say. Steve was relaxed, weight back on one hand, legs kicked out in front of him. “Not everyone is a slut, Carol.”

The like you went unspoken, but Robin saw it land. Carol’s face scrunched up with real hurt for a second, like she wasn’t sure why Steve was attacking her. 

Tommy, sitting between them, gave Steve a what the fuck look as he pulled Carol into his side. 

Steve either didn’t see any of this or pretended not to. He turned to Patrick, sitting next to Robin on the opposite side as Tammy, and said “truth or dare?”

Robin relaxed. It was over, right? They weren’t looking at her anymore?

She glanced around the circle and it seemed like everyone had moved on. A sneaky glance at Tammy showed that she wasn’t sitting as close to Robin as before, but she also wasn’t looking particularly repulsed. Maybe she had just forgotten to move back again. 

Robin didn’t really believe it. 

She tried to calm her racing heart as the next few people went. But when it was Steve Harrington’s turn, she couldn’t help but tune in. 

“Steve,” Tommy Hagan said. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Steve said, like every teenage jock ever. 

Carol leaned over and whispered in Tommy’s ear and Tommy grinned. “I dare you to kiss Robin Buckley.”

Robin’s blood turned to ice. Once again, all heads in the circle swiveled to her. 

Robin didn’t want to kiss Steve Harrington. She had been saving her first kiss because she wanted it to be special. She could have pretended to like a boy, to kiss a boy, to date a boy. But she had wanted to save all her firsts for a girl — to have them be real and meaningful instead of a stupid farce. 

She didn’t have a choice though. Not after what Carol had implied earlier. If Robin didn’t kiss Steve, she would practically be confirming that she was a lesbian. 

Robin looked to Carol, who was smirking at her. 

“Yeah,” Robin said shakily. “Okay.”

Steve was watching her intently, something indecipherable in his eyes. He got to his feet and crossed the circle, kneeling down in front of her. 

Robin didn’t think she’d ever been this close to a boy. He smelled like hairspray and beer, and his eyes were brown and serious as she watched her. 

He gave her the same friendly smile he’d been giving her all semester, then leaned in to whisper in her ear. His breath was uncomfortably hot on her skin as he said, “trust me.”

Then he pulled back and squared his shoulders, cocky and unapologetic about it. He smirked around the circle, a boy proud to be showing off that he was kissing a pretty girl. 

Robin was going to throw up. Her heart was pounding and she was going to have to kiss a boy and Steve had been playing games with her all semester. 

Robin closed her eyes, preparing for the kiss and also trying to hide the hot tears she could feel building up. 

She jumped a bit when Steve’s hands landed on her face. He wasn’t holding her jaw delicately like he’d done to Tammy. Both of Steve’s giant palms where splayed across her cheeks, one of them half caught in her hair, dragging it in front of her face. Great. Her first kiss was going to taste like hair and that wasn’t even going to be the worst part of it. 

Robin kept her eyes screwed shut as Steve’s skin pressed against her lips and his nose bumped hers and — those weren’t Steve’s lips. 

Steve was close, yes, so close they were sharing the same air. So close that it probably looked like they were kissing. 

But this was a stage kiss. Steve’s thumb was over Robin’s mouth, his lips pressed to one side and hers to the other. 

Robin opened her eyes in shock. She couldn’t really see Steve — he was too close not to be blurry — but his eyes were pressed closed, brown eyelashes fanned over his cheeks. As if this were a real kiss. 

Where had basketball-playing, prom king Steve Harrington even learned what a stage kiss was? This couldn’t be standard practice for the popular kids — they played these games as an excuse to kiss each other, not to fake it.

And more importantly, why was he doing this? Was he that opposed to kissing her? Or had he somehow noticed her reluctance and decided to protect her while allowing both of them to save face?

Steve used his hands to tilt Robin’s head and she followed without resistance. He pressed closer, moving her back, and they still weren’t kissing but it probably looked like they were making out. Like he was into this. Like she was.

Robin closed her eyes. She could figure out the mystery that was Steve Harrington later. Right now, she had to help Steve sell this. 

She raised her hands to Steve’s shoulders, pulling him closer, hoping he wouldn’t misinterpret her sudden ardor as a request for a real kiss. 

He let out a little moan, his nose brushing hers as he tipped his head, and she smiled against his thumb. Holy shit. They were totally faking it and everyone was going to think she was a good enough kisser to make Steve Harrington moan.

After a long moment, Steve pulled back, simultaneously slipping his thumb to the side so it wouldn’t be over her mouth. 

He stayed in her space a second longer, eyes locked with Robin’s. He seemed pleased with himself, or maybe with her shocked expression. 

He licked his lips and Robin copied him automatically. Her lips tasted like beer and smoke but it was from Steve’s hand, not his lips, and that made all the difference. 

Someone wolf-whistled. 

Steve backed away, returning to his seat next to Tommy Hagan. Robin was speechless as the room returned to focus.

Carol looked pissed. Tommy was elbowing Steve, leaning in to tease him. 

“Damn, Harrington,” said some basketball jock Robin didn’t know. “I didn’t know you were into band nerds.”

“That was a hell of a first kiss,” another one said. 

Steve smiled, cocky and pleased and bashful all at once. He was a better actor than Robin had ever given him credit for. 

Tammy nudged Robin, and that’s when Robin realized she was still staring at Steve, dumb with awe. 

As everyone turned to Tommy Hagan, Tammy leaned in and whispered, “it looks like you really enjoyed that kiss.”

She was trying to smile, trying to gently tease like a friend would, but Robin could see the heartbreak in her expression. Robin wished she could tell Tammy that it had all been for show and that she hadn’t actually kissed Steve, but Tammy had pulled away at the accusation that Robin was a lesbian and only been okay touching her again after that performance of a kiss. 

This wasn’t a world where Robin got to have both Steve and Tammy. 

“Yeah,” Robin said, surprised to find she was telling the truth. She was glad she’d been dared to kiss Steve and not any other boy here. There were apparently layers to Steve Harrington, who she’d thought was nothing more than a pretty, empty-headed, girl-obsessed jock. 

She kind of wanted to know more about him. 

She glanced across the circle. Steve was watching Tommy try to do a handstand, until Tommy overbalanced and fell into Steve’s lap, making him yelp. Steve laughed as he leaned over Tommy, asking if he was okay, and Tommy’s eyes lit up in a way Robin recognized. The way she had probably lit up when Tammy had taken her hand. 

In that moment, Robin felt like she understood something about all of them. 

Carol’s frozen smile as she watched her boyfriend beam at Steve. The way Tommy pretended to fumble a bit climbing off Steve’s lap, if only to stay there a second longer. And Steve’s sharp eyes, catching Tommy’s adoration and Carol’s pain. 

“You’re too high, man,” Steve said, waving his joint in a big circle. Giving Tommy cover in case anyone else had noticed what Robin had. 

“Way too high,” Carol agreed, snatching the joint from Steve’s fingers. She took a long drag, then blew the smoke out, passed the joint back to Steve, and curled into Tommy’s side. 

Tommy and Carol looked like the picture of a happy couple and Robin realized it was another type of performance. Had Carol known before she started dating Tommy? Or had she fallen in love with him first, only realizing he liked Steve when it was too late to stop her heart from being broken?

Robin didn’t want to feel sympathy for Carol Perkins, who had tried so hard to ruin Robin’s night. But she pitied her a little, watching her playact at being happy and realizing that they were all doing it. All these stupid popular kids were just pretending to be shiny, happy people and the rest of the school was buying it, standing too far away to see the imperfections that would have been obvious up close.

Steve met Robin’s eyes across the circle, bringing the joint to his lips. His eyes were perfectly clear, pupils small, not like someone who had been smoking at all. Another slight of hand, like the stage kiss. 

“I think he likes you back,” Tammy said. 

Robin looked at Tammy, who was faking a smile just like the rest of the popular kids. Why hadn’t Robin seen it before? Tammy was brave and Tammy was kind, but she hid those parts of herself, trying to seem just as cookie-cutter perfect as the rest of the people in this circle. 

Robin didn’t want cookie-cutter perfect. She wanted real. 

She still didn’t want to break Tammy’s heart, so she said something she didn’t really believe about Steve. Not anymore.

“Maybe,” Robin said. “But like you said, he’s just a good time. He’ll be over me in two weeks.”

***

On Monday, Robin found Steve at his locker after school. 

His eyes went wide as she came up to him and he smiled at her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Robin said. She kicked the toes of her converse together. She’d spent all of yesterday doodling on them while watching tv. Maybe it was stupid, given how close Carol had come to outing her, but Robin was feeling a little bulletproof. She’d written I may not go down in history, but I’ll go down on your sister in pen on the whites of her shoes. 

Steve looked down at her feet and smiled. “Nice artwork.”

Robin froze, even though there was no way Steve could read her shoes while standing up. “Thanks,” she said stiffly. “I thought they could use some, uh, personality?”

“I like them better this way,” Steve said. 

Robin cleared her throat. “Do you, uh, wanna get milkshakes? You’re paying, of course.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “I’ll buy you however many milkshakes you want.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Do girls really fall for this desperate act?”

“I’m much cooler around girls I’m interested in,” Steve said. Robin believed him this time. He’d put his thumb over her mouth and then swaggered like he’d kissed her and she trusted him in a way she hadn’t before. 

She was dying to know why he’d done it.

“So it’s just your friends that you bribe into liking you,” Robin teased. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, shameless. “Usually more with free rides and arcade money, but I’ve used ice cream before.”

“You’re so weird,” Robin blurted out. Then she froze. It was practically social suicide to call Steve Harrington weird. 

But Steve didn’t get mad. He just laughed and said “you have no idea.”

“Yo, Harrington,” called a  basketball player walking down the hall. “Hurry up, you’ll be late for practice.”

“I’m not going today!” Steve called back. “I’m sick.” He gave a very unconvincing cough. 

The basketball player rolled his eyes. “Lovesick, maybe.”

Steve scowled playfully. “Fuck off, man.”

“I’ll tell Coach you’re too pussy-whipped to play,” the basketball player said. 

“Don’t you dare!” Steve called. Robin expected him to sound more offended at being called pussy-whipped. No teenage boy wanted to be told he would do anything a girl told him to do, even in exchange for sex. And Steve was definitely not getting sex. But the insult rolled off Steve like water off a duck’s back. “Tell him I have the flu.”

“Sure, sure, whatever.” The boy rolled his eyes as he disappeared around the corner. 

Steve closed his locker. “Ready to go?”

“You’re not going to basketball?” 

“No,” Steve said. “We’re getting milkshakes. I’m not giving up a chance to make Robin Buckley my best friend.”

“Aren’t you, like, first chair?” Robin said. She watched a lot of basketball games by virtue of being in band, she knew it was called starting line. But she enjoyed seeing Steve’s face scrunch up at her words.

Steve groaned. “God, that is annoying. Remind me to stop calling Dustin’s campaigns his nerd practices.”

“Who’s Dustin and what are campaigns?”

“A kid I babysit, and a Dungeons and Dragons game.”

Robin blinked. “Dungeons and Dragons? That Hellfire game?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “He’s not in high school yet, so he doesn’t play with Eddie as his DM, but I’m sure he’ll join in a few years.”

DM? Was that some Hellfire term?

Apparently the new Steve Harrington knew the terms to nerd games. He stage-kissed lesbians at parties and thought it was worth skipping basketball practice for a chance to be Robin’s friend.

“Who are you?” Robin asked. “And what have you done with Steve?”

“I’m a time traveller from the future,” Steve said. 

Robin laughed. What a nerd. “No, really.”

Steve started walking backwards down the hallway, keys swinging around his fingers. “I’ll tell you over milkshakes.”

He held a hand out to her, beckoning, a hopeful smile on his face, and it didn’t feel like a joke anymore. Robin had no clue why, but Steve Harrington really wanted to be her friend. 

Robin peeled herself off the lockers and took Steve’s hand, their fingers twining together, letting him pull her outside. 

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 2)

In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.

+++

“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.

She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.

“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”

“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

Prose Masterlist

[meazalykov]

acts of service

sydney lohmann x bayern!reader

summary: you and your girlfriend's love languages revolve around words of affirmation and acts of service

opening your eyes, you took a few moments to move your head up. seeing that the orange retro clock on your bedside table says “6:45 AM”, you smacked your head back onto the soft pillow and closed your eyes. you didn’t need to wake up for another hour. training for the pre-season starts at ten o’clock so you wanted all of the sleep that you could get. 

it wasn’t five minutes until you closed your eyes that you flipped your body to its side. usually, your leg would come into contact with your girlfriend's leg while doing this in the morning. so, when your leg landed onto the soft mattress instead, your eyes shot open-- seeing an open space. 

sydney isn’t the girlfriend that will wake up first in the mornings, its always you. this wasn’t normal, so you moved your tired body to sit up.

your hands moved to rub your eyes before you heard the front door in the apartment close shut from the living room. 

your eyebrows knitted together, knowing that sydney must’ve left to go somewhere or she is coming back from somewhere. she didn’t leave too long ago, as you woke up to use the bathroom at 5:00am and saw sydney sleeping.

as you take the pink comforter off of your body, you hear footsteps approaching the room along with the aroma of your favorite breakfast wafting through the air. 

your legs were on the edge of the bed as sydney stops in the doorway with a surprised look--- she is surprised to see you awake. 

you looked at the brown paper bag in her right hand with suspicion as syd had a grin on her face. in her left hand, sydney held a 2-drink cup carrier with two drinks placed inside of them. 

“baby, did you really just-?” you cut yourself off as you stood up in front of her, surprised at the gesture. you took the drink carrier out of her left hand as she moved to the other side of the large bedroom to grab the two bed trays you guys keep in the closets. 

“yes i did!!” sydney said excitedly, which surprised you because the clock turned to 7am and usually sydney isn’t too energized this early. 

you look down at the two drinks to see two iced lattes. one was a bit darker than the lighter one with strawberry cold foam on top of it. that one is yours, considering that sydney knows your order for the cafe on the corner of the same street you both live on. 

sydney pulls out the food in the bag and you notice both of your favorite orders being sat on the bed trays. 

the german girl usually orders an avocado toast topped with hard-boiled egg and a plain croissant. you get a plain croissant too, along with a plain bagel with light cream cheese. 

the golden morning light filters through the ivory colored curtains, casting a warm glow over both of your features as you start to eat.

"i forgot to tell you good morning, sleepyhead," she starts to speak, her voice a melodic whisper. 

“good morning, early bird,” you joked. this is a joke that started between the both of you even before you guys started a relationship two years ago. 

everytime you woke up before her, which was everyday until this morning, she called you an early-bird because you were fully awake by the time she would wake up. most times, you’d have to force her to wake up with you so you aren’t late to training or games with bayern. 

it looks like the roles switched this morning.

"I thought I'd surprise you when I saw that you were still asleep." sydney blushed as she looked at you sipping on the strawberry latte. it was made perfectly. 

"this tastes amazing, but you’re even more amazing for this," you murmur, placing the iced drink down and stretching your tired arms before smiling at your girlfriend with tons of love in your eyes. "I don't know how you always know exactly what I need."

sydney laughs softly. "it's a gift. now, eat. we've gotta go training soon."

you spend the morning together, savoring each bite and sip. the intimacy of the moment is a reminder of why you love her so deeply. this isn’t the first time you’ve done this, it's almost a weekly thing. most of the time its you going down to the cafe and picking up sydney’s iced hazelnut latte though. 

a week later, shortly after the first game of the season, sydney fell ill. her usual happy energy was diminished by a fever and sore throat. you both share an apartment, so you’re more than prepared and determined to take care of her.

sydney can be a little stubborn. at first, she said she was fine but you made her rest after taking medicine (given by the doctors at bayern) so she will feel better.

its been an hour since she fell asleep in a nap--- you start chores in the kitchen by tackling the dishes piled high in the sink, the clinking of plates and running water calms your mind as your tv in the living room serves as a nice background noise. next, you move on to do the laundry. 

usually, sydney has a huge preference of doing the laundry while you tackle the dishes. both of you share the same clothes in the huge closet in the bedroom– so you chose to do all of the laundry this time to make her life easier. 

in the laundry room– you threw most of the clothes in the washer and looked in the cabinets where you keep the detergents and other things. sydney likes to use the vanilla scented fabric beads for the washer– while you like the fresh clean scented ones– so you chose to use the vanilla beads with the regular laundry detergent. 

you have to come back and do another two loads, considering how much clothes you and sydney own, so you sort out all of the jerseys and training gear, placing them in a pile so you’re prepared to wash those too after the first load is finished.

when you go to check on sydney in the bedroom, you find her awake. she has the tv on and is watching one of her favorite netflix movies. you felt terrible, sydney is shivering and you hated to see your sunshine so miserable while being sick. 

“hey sweetheart.” you sat on the edge of the bed and ran your hands through sydney’s soft, yet tangled, hair. you felt terrible and knew you had to get sydney cleaned up. 

"i know you might not like this but let’s get you cleaned up, sunshine. it might help you feel better." you say softly. due to her sore throat, she can’t speak much without irritation. you understand as you pull the pink comforter off of her body, helping the taller girl stand up as you led her into the bathroom ten steps away. 

you undress the woman who was just settled into a sports bra and shorts before. you take your hands and help her into the shower, supporting her weight as the warm water cascades down her body. 

first, you let her sit down as you started to wash her hair first. this step takes about 20 minutes, since you mainly gave her head massages while cleaning her scalp. after saturating one of your hydrating hair masks into her hair, you helped her stand up in the warm (not hot) shower.

next, you take the antibacterial soap as you started to wash away the sweat and sickness from her body. 

as you take the silicone scrub and clean her body, you rub her back and murmur comforting words, feeling her sick body relax under your touch.

after double cleansing her body with her favorite citrus scented soap, you washed the hair mask out of her hair and helped her sit back down. you plugged the tub and allowed the water to run, adding a few of her favorite essential oils and bubble bath soap that will calm her body and mind. 

you didn’t notice– or care– that your entire front side is soaked. you didn’t get into the shower and bath with her, but you allowed her wet body to hold onto your clothed body. your blue shirt sticks to your front due to how soaked it is, along with your white pajama shorts, but you didn’t care. 

sydney stayed close to the edge of the tub as she held onto you. you sat on your knees outside of the tub and cuddled with your arms wrapped around her body. 

this might’ve been dumb, considering that you can catch her sickness next and miss out on the next game against slavia praha– you couldn’t care less knowing that your sweetheart is sick. 

"you're too good to me," you hear sydney whisper, her voice weak but filled with gratitude as she felt your small kisses on the back of her shoulder.

"you're everything to me syd," you reply, moving your body over so you could kiss her cheek. "i’d do anything for you."

two weeks later– it was the evening on a day off from soccer-related stuff. sydney started to get over her sickness a week prior, so she is back to normal. 

as you both sit in the living room, with you on the floor in-between sydney’s legs on the couch— sydney’s fingers weave through your hair with practiced ease. 

"hold still," she instructed as your head looked up at the TV playing mean girls. the german is concentrating on forming perfect french braids in your hair. you feel her breath against the top of your head, her presence is calming. the gentle tugging and twisting of your hair is almost meditative, each braid giving a symbol of her love and care.

when anybody plays with your hair, your body goes into relaxation. since it's sydney playing with your hair, you could’ve fallen asleep right here. your eyes continue to close and shut as sydney continues to move her fingers in your hair.

"why do you always braid my hair?" you ask softly, smiling at the thought with your eyes closed in relaxation. 

during games for bayern, you’re an attacking midfielder– or a forward if someone is injured– who is considered to be one of the best. 

many pictures taken of you during games capture you with nice french braids in your hair– or with a low ponytail that's braided. sydney is the hairstylist behind those braids which made her so happy seeing you on the pitch with them nicely finished.

"because i love your hair– it's so soft, and i know it makes you relax." she replies simply as she ties together the first braid. 

a month later-- after a particularly harsh game at bayern, with sydney getting into a fight with a ref that gave her a yellow card– you both return home. 

her shoulders are slumped and her eyes are filled with frustration as her mind replayed the moment when she got a yellow card. 

you got a yellow card too earlier in that game, after failing to side tackle a ball– and hitting the wolfsburg forwards ankles instead– but you brushed it off as a mistake. however, you can see the weight of her bad moment pressing down on her. 

in the car and in the locker room you gave her space– now you’re back home. without a word, you wrap your arms around her on the couch, pulling her into a tight embrace. sydney melts into you, her facade cracking as she lets out a shuddering breath.

you held her hand and caressed her face with your fingers. "talk to me," you urge gently. sydney used to have a thing for holding her thoughts inside of her mind until they exploded. now, she is aware that she can talk to you about anything. 

“i’m so mad! the ref saw that she pushed me first, so why did i get the yellow card while she was able to walk away with no consequences.” sydney begins to unload, her words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. 

by “she”, sydney is referring to a wolfsburg defender who pushed her from behind as she tried to pass a ball to you. you listen intently, knowing that sydney is telling the truth. as you watched sydney fall to the ground, all of your teammates ran over to the ref and demanded a foul and yellow card for the player’s action. 

you on the other hand, you ran over to help sydney up from the ground. she acknowledged your support but jogged over to the ref. the conversation was short but got heated quickly. your eyes widened when you saw the ref pull out the yellow card looking at sydney.

as sydney continued to talk, you offered words of reassurance and understanding. sometimes, refs make the calls you don’t like– and all you can do is move on. 

after getting her to calm down by cuddling on the couch and watching the women’s el clasico match on live television, sydney spoke out randomly as the game paused for halftime. 

"y/n, i feel a lot better after talking about what happened. thank you– you're always here for me," she murmurs, her head resting on your shoulder as she gives you a kiss on your neck. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"you don’t have to thank me baby, it's what i love to do– and you'll never have to find out what it's like without me," you promise, stroking her hair. "we're in this together, forever and always."

<3